Rain-X……. water on a duck’s feathers…..

Chicky at work, nice chicky, we were summing up work (it can be hell, lemme tellya… love where I work… what I do… but virtually every employee has 40 hours to do what takes 50 hours… ).. Anyways… this chicky winged a nice one… she said “You know Victor, I want to be like you… where everything rolls off your back.”…..

Woah Nellie… dunno about that one… but I’m appreciative of the comp.

I do try to stay non-excitable, and I spose the reasons are various… I’m slow in deducting what’s been said - and my Murpy’s Law reaction to same.. WAY too many times over the years I’ve muttered words to reply to what’s just been said - and I regret what I blurt THE VERY SECOND it escapes my lips… so mebbe from that I’ve learned…

Are u like me though in that people probably wouldn’t like you if they knew exactly what was going thru you brain about them/the situation?… I mean, sometimes I wanna wail, but I do resist the urge…

Thankfully, I guess, there are one or two around our camp that do ‘talk ugly’ about a co-worker - and it’s like fingernails on the chalkboard listening to it….

And… I guess I’m nice because you just never know where one’s “LAGNAF” (let’s all get naked and foolaround”) may come from!

Not all things roll of like rain on a Rain-X windshield though… (Have u used that crap? It rocks)..

We’ve all had things said to us in a millisecond that affect us forever and ever. I personally have been haunted for six years now by whatshernamerodeoffonaHarley’s statement “You need someone.” It sets me up for failure and diminished self esteem pretty decently.

Funny, how in one single sentence, you can carry something for life. There are good ‘carries’, and there are yuck carries. None of ‘em stray too far from our brain, too long.

The positive ones keep us going, trying harder, working harder, the angst to “do good” in this world because someone thinks we are/were/should/will.

And then the comments that backhandedly tell us “you’re a worthless piece of shit.” that we have to fend off… thwart… just so “no” it ain’t true… for the remainder of our time here.

Cuts, about our looks.. Our minds.. Our lives… our families… - we never forget them….

That Rain-X, it’ll block that crap from the windshield.. But from there.. It goes into the vents into the engine.. And that ain’t good…

I’m sorry this isn’t funny… edge-of-the-chair ‘ha-ha’ kinda words… but….

It’s a reminder… to me… maybe to you….

When we open our mouths… please Lord give us the fortitude and the short-range planning ability to never-ever say something to someone that will affect them negatively forever and ever.. And grant us the ability to discern what would and what won’t affect our friends…

Water does run down windshields… Work/and all that crap that comes with it does roll-off… Stuff said that’s highly personal has an anchor-like affect - and it’s hard to get ridda it.

Hey, thanks for being here… oh.. And… have you ever tried ‘Crest for Halitosis Breath”.?.. Did you forget where the friggin’ front door is? (ie, get out there and walk a bit.)…

Just teasing. Make it a point to NOT HOLD BACK and say GOOD THINGS to someone when you think ‘em. We all know “feel good” when good crap is said to us. Make it a goal THE RESTA your life - to share when you see good in a person. Trust me, it’ll feel good, both ways.

Loveya bunches, Victurd

If I were dying…..

I ain’t… well, am… but we all am…

I don’t know how much of the every day stuff I’d change if I did suddenly find out if I was dying.. You?

I know I’d go to photo albums to try to recreate the years… relive them… somehow artificially extend those years.. I know from reading my own crap I’m in love with yesterday – and perhaps it’s not a wonderful trait… but I kinda think it is.. why would one look excitedly to tomorrow if yesterday didn’t conjure up fun mems?

Oh, I think come hell (please, say no) or high water, I’d make my way to Cooperstown, Niagara Falls, NYC, the 4 dead guys in granite….

Ifn’s I was told “one year”.. hell, I might even call hospice and see if they could recommend some hot 50-something chicky in the same boat – for a six month excursion to nowhere.. just go…

Then I’d come back and stare at my two nieces so I could “see” my sister again… I’d go to Fulton, my roots, and envision growing up there from my folk’s eyes…

I’d write, s’more and s’more… I’d tell all those in my life that have given me a chuckle, or set an example – just that. I’d use the L word without caution. I’d maybe tell a few that I’ve wanted to sleep with so badly that “I’ve wanted to sleep with you so badly.” Hehe. Victor, you’re a pig. Oink! I’d undress ‘em with my eyeballs right there and then. (Again!)

I think I’d skydive. No desire to now, but if I learned I was keelin’, I think I would. I’d go do the “Richard Petty Experience.” (Where you drive a race car at unheard of speeds around the track.)

I’d hug, everyone from the lady handing me my breakfast at HyVee, to my son – who walks with my blood. I’d study eyeballs more closely. I’d focus on other’s smiles. I’d makea list of 20 people older than me that I haven’t seen in awhile – and go find them.

I’d buy a new stereo, CD burner, and immerse myself with favs.. loudly…

I’d buy a new suit. (Hell, if I gotta wear one the resta my… what would you call it?)… Might as well buy one I liked. Maybe puta pic of Elisabeth Shue in ma pocket!

I’d drive buy every place I’ve ever worked, sit, and simply remember. Victor, that’s a lotta gas. Screw you, I know I’ve had a lotta jobs – but – thinka all the people I’ve been afforded to know.

I’d make a list of all the ones I’ve doinked, and try to remember the feeling. Perhaps that’s piggish, but I don’t think either one would mind! Hehe.

I’d tell you, the sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t blog reader, thanks.

In a way, we’re all dying. No, it shouldn’t be a goal to wakeup and thinka that… perhaps if we just remember time, and it’s preciousness..

Gotta run now. Gonna Google “skydive, Kansas City, Mo”… Love you all… Love life.. Victurd.

Bloggy Mountain Breakdown....

No. I just don’t wanna.

I think this is a mood all of us get in occasionally. Go to work? NO, I don’t wanna.

Cook dinner. NO, I don’t wanna.

Fool around? NO, I don’t wanna… (Victor, be for real, you’ve never said ‘no’ here in your life…. Yeah.. Mebbe so… but heard it plenty so figured some could relate!)…

Write? NO, I DON’T WANNA. I just ain’t had the passion, the creativity needed, the want to. I don’t wanna. I know I know, Victor whoever said you were creative?…

Ringgggg… “Oh hi boss… uh huh… ok… ahm, NO, I don’t wanna.”

But Victor, Friday is casual day here, you can’t wear jeans on Tuesday. You’ll have to wait till Friday. No, I don’t wanna.

Dad, can you take me to.. NO, I don’t wanna.

What’s the logic behind this Pink envelope from Geico?? NO, I don’t wanna.

“Hi, this is ________, I’m not available to come to the phone.. Please leave a message at the NO I DON’T WANNA. I’m calling back again and again and again until I get a warm body!

Mow the yard? No. Getta haircut? No. Go to the gym? NO. Go see a movie? NO!. Browse thru a singles website? NO!

Some days I just wanna ‘be’. No have to’s. No gotta be here by such-n-sucha time. No lists to do on the way home. I’ll answer that email tomorrow… mebbe…

Victor, this ain’t funny, please stop…………………. drum roll……………. NO, I DON’T WANNA!

I see the need upon occasion to clam up as a two anda half year old might… Call one’s own damn shots for awhile. Fold the arms across the chest to form an unpenetratable guard. Live in the lap of luxury, whatever that is we choose it to be. Answer to no one. Responsible to no one. Devil may care. Unplug the damn phone. Turn the cell to silent. Victor, you don’t have a cell. Go buy one. NO, I DON’T WANNA.

I REALLY should go to bed, but I don’t wanna. I really should brush my teeth.. (That one I think I’ll do, I’ll like me more)…

May you pick a day to be your own boss… Just say no. Fold your arms, let ‘em know you mean business. F-in A Ray.

Happy evening, but only if you wanna…. Love, Victurd

R I an idiot?

There’s a pattern here. Really, there is.

My first ‘love’, my first “uh huh”… Her name was __RI.

__RI was fun, giggly, full of smiles. Damn pretty (to me anyways.). I was addicted to her eyes, her laugh, her walk. She had a gRIp on me.

Dated in and outta momentary breakups all thru High School. Did the Proms, The Courtwarmings, The dRIve inns. __RI and I were split up due to college. I’d dRIve home every weekend to see her… Sometimes, I’d even dRIve two hours each way in the middle of the week to see her. I blame __RI for my 1.65 GPA that first semester!

One day, __RI moved away - and that was the last of Victor and __RI.

Transferred home to go to college. Shortly thereafter, met __RI__. There’s a pattern here. Third letter R, fourth letter I. __RI__ was also fun. She was a tiny thing, yet rode a motorcycle, drove heap big school bus, and did just about every other thing society said a woman wasn’t supposed to do - and I fell in love with that.

__RI__ and I dated for several years. She even played basketball for me when I coached at the small college we went to together. All our fRIends were getting married… College was ending - time for the real world. Hey __RI__, wanna get married? K. So we did.

Bigass wedding. Some real nice tRIps to different places. We’d wRIte love notes and put ‘em in each other’s lunches.. We had heap big parties.. We did my family, her family.

Then…. I worked days, she worked nights. The gRIp we had was lessening. We’d visit for the hour of the day we had. One night, it all came down, peacefully, amicably. In a millisecond, Victor and __RI__ were over. Seven YeaRItch I think they called it.

In the short span after __RI, and between __RI__ and ‘the RI-bound”.. I played softball. And more softball. It took the two pRI-vious RI’s off my brain. I was playing three nights a week, umpiRIng women’s softball the other two nights. “Yes, I’d like to umpire, but all I wanna do is women’s games.” And tourneys on weekends. It was during this time I finally learned howinthehell to do laundry the RIght way. I hadta. College, who cared about wRInkles in clothes. I was an adult now. (Chronologically anyways.)

RI-bounded with __RI____. Yes, third letter R, fourth letter I. There’s a pattern here. The gRIp was quick. In shortime, living together. Tiny lady she was/is. To me, __RI___ was the prettiest lady I’d ever been with. I got lost in her natural beauty. I’d simply sit and stare as she slept, bathed, did whatever. Smitten. RI-eally I was.

We RI-produced in 1985. Twenty years with __RI___. Eighteen wonderful, one and a half not bad.. ½ RI-eally bad. That look she once gave me - gone. Ne’er again. She would give it to others - and I knew it wasn’t with intent a want of hers to go - but the feel of not being on the receiving end of that look was unbearable. Then, one day, I guess she followed the look she was giving, and she rode off on a Harley, ne’er to return.

So, here I sit… Wondering… Waiting for “HEY, you look like my 3rd wife.” Oh yeah, how many times you been married? Twice.

Please, steer clear if your name is apRIl. caRIna, jeRI, loRI, saRIna, etc. I’ve got a gRIp on that finally. RIght Victor, sure you do.

Hey… let life RIp. Take TRips. Enjoy the tRIals and tRIbulations. Life’s quite a RIde.

I R the expert. RIght? Love, Victurd.

Things I’ve noticed…..

People born between 1980 and 1987 all have… cell phone addiction. Go to lunch with one sometime… Take a break at work with one sometime… Ain’t sayin’ it’s a bad thing.. but it’s an addiction… Cell “ticks”…

Mexican people are virtually always happy…

I think we oughta switch to a 4-day work week. No, don’t mean Monday thru Thursday.. off three.. Mean work four, off two, work four, off two… It’d only be 17 days less worked a year.. People would live longer.. You could get three weeks vacation insteada two.. Less natural resources utilized…

Sorry to share. I just went and pooped. I find it disgusting, I drove into work – and there – right there in my belly, was that poop the entire time. Hehe. Eww. Gives whole new meaning to when asked “how do you feel?” – Shitty.

Emails are feel goods.

Close your ears fellow old people… I think the youth of today interact with, understand better, the baby boomer generation – than we did our older counterparts when we were termites.. We always had respect, admiration… Youth of today, they befriend. Hang with. Nice.

Water is a sedative.

We get, on average, roughly 28,000 days here on earth to perform, react, live, adjust, interact, love, hate, however we choose to live. I’m up to 19,974. Go ahead. Add yours up. Compare the two totals. Kinda maybe changes one’s perspective on how to do it after awakening. At work, we use the Julian calendar. January 1 is #1, January 2 is #2, and so forth thru December 31st – which is #365. I think insteada mowing the yard, cleaning house this weekend.. we oughta make calendars allllll the way thru our supposed demise date.. Like for me, lemme see.. 28,000 minus 19,974 = 8026 days left.. So.. today would be day #8026… and tomorrow #8025.. and so forth – and complete ‘em allllll the way to the dreaded ZERO. Ok, someone get a patent. I think it’d sell.

Heard about the fella that said “I don’t wanna live to be eighty.”… Ask him if he still feels that way he’s 79 years, 364 days.

Why do they call the tall, round white thing in our basements a hot water heater.

Funny.. one looks for work where he/she doesn’t have to deal with the weather.. not work so much physically.. so.. we work at monitors.. freeze our ass off in the summer here.. sweat to death in the winter… and our backs ache like crazy at the end of the day.. go figure.. Just before I’d quit the job on principle – gone to be a mailman.. I mowed grass on a golf course.. Most relaxing job I’ve ever had. Just Nature and me.

Gotta run. Going to “great” great-nephew’s HS football game. Braggin… A-Student. Sophomore. STARTING middle linebacker.. Calm, mild off field.. one tough hombre’ on.

Have a great weekend.. and if there’s anything about life you’ve happened to notice.. unusual.. quisitive.. whatever.. I’d love to hear.. Love, Victurd

Done now…..

Finito, finished, over… all there is…

Everything ends… Thoughts of “done now” go thru our brain almost constantly… Could be the simple drive into work… Breaktime… The 5 o’clock bell… the drive home…. “the day”… the peepers - done being open for the day..

Watching a Chief’s game.. I was done at halftime last week…

Friendships… sometimes we stand back and say - Ok, I’m done. When the effort on one end outdoes the effort on the other - you reach a point where you say “done now.”

Jobs. You either increase your skills and become more attractive to a better $uitor, or.. You’ve had enough… done now…

A meal… you sit wanting.. You devour.. And devour… s’more… and s’more… and you reach the point “done now.”

Cooking a steak - different “done now”s to suit each..

Popcorn… begins silently, slowly, methodical.. Starts going faster and fasTER and FASTER, FRENETIC.. BANGING POPPING. .and then.. . Almost to the bursting point.. And then… slow, baby pops… done now..

Sex… begins silently, slowly, methodical.. Starts going faster and fasTER and FASTER, FRENETIC.. BANGING POPPING. .and then.. . Almost to the bursting point.. And then… slow, baby pops… done now.. Hehe..

Christmas shopping… FINALLY done… no… wait… doesn’t look like enough.. So and so has more than so and so… back out… impulsive buys… ok…. U look at bank balance.. Ahm, done now.

A behavior. Could be one that’s bugged others forever - but it finally smacks you in the face hard enough to realize - that’s ugly.. I don’t like being ugly.. Done now…

A project.. Wallpapering.. Painting… building… fixing… putting in a new alternator… done now.. (AND NO PARTS LEFT!)

A relationship… you wonder exactly when, how one gets to the point - done now. Could it have been years they wondered if ‘done now’.. and what puts someone over the edge enough to say done now…

Telling kids it’s time to leave the playground now. Done now. NOOOOOOOOOOO… and they act hissy… weird… outta sync… like you just stole their last penny..

I remember once at the Lake of the Ozarks - when Maynard was 3, brother Denton 12.. We’d taken this nifty portable wading pool with us… maybe twelve feet round with two foot tall walls.. Came time to go… My father (Maynard’s grandfather) - rather than scoop all the water out - simply put his foot on the edge, pushed down - and the water was gone in a millisecond… prompting Maynard to say “YOU STUPID IDIOT.. WASTE HIM DENT!”.. I laughed… perhaps.. That’s why I’m “done now.”

All things end. Victor, will this blog ever end? Yes, as swipe. Now. Done now.

Happy day, love Victurd.

Control….

Close your ears… What an ominous fucking word….

In control… in charge.. The leader… the one we lean on… the one who gets those off the path, back on… the one who, when it’s questioned “who’s in charge?” - steps up to the plate..

Out of control… The idiot the barkeep served up two too many too… The angry person who is so easily set-off… The gambler - who wins once outta six times, thus, goes back, and back, and back, and back..

Controlling personalities… I’m very close to one of these… If way was had, this person would have onea them generic remote controls u buy - and you punch in the code for what you’re trying to control… I guess I’d be RCA Victor… I’d much prefer to call it tail waggin’ the dog, but you’d haveta walk a mile in my shoes to comprende…

Whatshername said I was controlling…in the end at least… yeah… again.. That one is a chicken or the egg kinda question… a close family member, after whatshername so willingly spread legs, did that.. Was talking to my/our son.. “but don’t you know how controlling your father was?”… My reply, at the time, was “if my beloved sister were here… and she were talking to my son.. I really think she’d paint a picture where neither was a loser..”

Victor, control yourself, you sound bitter. Nah.. What’s past is past.. I was just trying to get closed in on control…

It’s kind of an evil word…

We try to control a fire… control the influx of ants… control our temper… direct…

We struggle to control our car going 65 and brake lights ahead… we struggle trying to mesh Sunni/Shiite - and have little say in control…

We need control on fuel prices… Greenspan pretty much controls the interest rate…. The control group in a scientific experiment….

Control is kinda like going to the Mexican joint for lunch.. And you walk out “hurting-good”… Satiated, yet overdone.. Filled, yet, heartburn..

I will admit I don’t like being controlled. Whether it’s dealing with a mate, a boss, or a son. I’m from the 60’s, and my logic was borne there. I really don’t believe I attempt to control others - other than to relate “please keep an open mind.”

In some instances, I thrived when I was the authoritative figure (teaching/coaching.).. In others, I really sucked - managing kids @ Sonic… I know this much - I’d rather be in charge (VICTOR, AHA, YOU ARRRRRE CONTROLLING).. Eh, mebbe.. But not really… I just know that in situations where I am in charge, people would be treated decently, humanly.

Victor, I think it’s time you CTRL-ALT-DELETE outta this one. Perhaps you’re right you controlling bastard. Have a happy Monday <-- not controlling. Make it a Happy Monday <-- controlling.

I hope you get laid ß only YOU control that. I hope I get laid. Lord knows I have ZERO control here.

Going to switch channels.. . Now where’s that GD remote control?.. Brb, going to flip couch… “What’s that son?”.. “Needa ride to Piggly Wiggly and Long John Silvers?… and drop that movie off at Blockbuster?”…

Riding the Mamba at Worlds of Fun… no control… Sailboat at Clinton Lake.. Some control.. Other’s heart for you… little control… how we view life… Ultra-control… how other’s view us… no control… how we control our “ride out”… pretty much in charge…

Bye.. Found the remote… Going to watch “Charles in Charge.”… After that I’ll think I’ll watch Dr. Phil.. Then maybe catch Tiger Woods in today’s final… Or.. “De Bears.” We all know them sumbitches were in charge.

Love, Victurd.

Rubik’s Cube…..

Funny, there are 54 “facelets” on a Rubik’s Cube… That be my age…

Life is a Rubik’s Cube… We hurry, we try to solve. Do do something and.. “nope.. .that don’t look good.”.. “nope, that ain’t right.”

“GD this is getting frustrating trying to find ‘right’, trying to solve Rubik” (life).

Some dude has been timed solving it in fitteen seconds. That’d be kinda sucky, figuring out all there is to life in fitteen seconds. Then whattaya do??

We hurry (I know I do anyways) to get there… to find utopia… perfection… and for idiots like me (Pit Boss where I dealt craps long ago after I’d toppled a stacka $25 chips for the 93rd time that night - “Victor, you have the hands of a sturgeon.”) He’s right.. I probably do.. And I’ve noticed sometimes I go thru life like that.

This turn, that turn. Wrong turns. Wrong house. Shuffling shipments at work to try to get all the colors lined up on the correct side.. Seems to always be that one outta place. Howinthehell do I ‘right it’?

I bet that bastard, said lovingly, giggled as he shipped the very first batcha those GD things.. He knew there’d be peoplea cussin’, sweatin’, waiting impatiently for their turn, throwing it, stomping it, pulling the colors off and repasting them so we could cheat our way to perfection.

Rubik (life) is just a game. Reckon it ain’t the end all that’s the most important.. It’s the gettin’ there… the fun… the sometime angst… the enjoyment.. the camaraderie.. the trip… the ride…

I love games… I love this game… I reckon solving Rubik would be kinda like an orgasm. GD I hate these “hands of a sturgeon.”

May you have fun with Rubik. Enjoy the twists and turns. If you should solve it.. Go ahead and give it a few “oh baby oh baby”s… but… don’t let that shit go to your head.

Love, Victurd

Hot to cold…..

Victor, you ain’t written since Sunday, what sup with that? Eh, you know, hot to cold…

This timea year, gotta love it… Was this THE most rapidest change from short sleeves to long sleeves you’ve EVER seen? As one who hasta go to the GD (gosh darn) Laundromat, I’m diggin’ it…

Ya gotta… no, reckon ya don’t gotta anything.. But how could u not like Fall… I tremendously enjoy summer, I don’t mind the heat, the sweating - I don’t think, as much as the next… but I do love fall…Football cranks up… termites go back to school… towns gather for Friday night football…nervous parents worry their kids will make it thru with the designated teacher… College football is in full swing.. And finally, after 100+ games, to the leaders, baseball games mean a damn…

Wet Tshirt contest. GD it Victor, when’s the last time you went to a Wet Tshirt contest? Well, I reckon it’s been awhile… but… ‘twas onea the best examples I could come up with for the topic… “Hot to Cold.” Wow, you really are a simpleton aren’t you.. Why are they.. Those ones that continually read… here? I dunno.. I reckon because some blogs are hot… some are cold… ya know?

Online dating… Hot to cold…Online dating is a unique Gosh Darn thing… You quite literally go from living, breathing, sleeping, eating, thinking, checking (Pavlov’s dogs) your email…to the emotions that are followed by the result. If you have an email from “oh baby oh baby”, life, it be Gosh Darn good… If ya’aint, it really sucks… Hot/Cold. Shake your head, disbelieve, scoff - but it’s true, in a millisecond here (online) you can go from Hot to Cold. Oh baby Oh baby to tears. Smile to frown. Giddiness to disappointment…

Hot to cold…. .a McDonald’s ¼ pounder with cheese ifn’s no one has ordered one in awhile.

Hot to cold… The Euro…

Hot to cold…. The dollar…

Hot to cold… Actors, Actresses…

Hot to cold.. Us, aging… Victor, I beg your pardon.. Whoever said you were hot? FU, it was the gist of the comment you biotch…

Hot to cold… A casino gambler.. Been there… frozen that…

Hot to cold… Marriage.. And this is a sonofabitch… Mebbe you see signs.. But you’re thinking like “hot to luke warm”… no friggin’ idea you’re in Antarctica, but you are. By the time you realize there’s trouble… you’re sweating yourass off, and that crap feezes to ya…

Hot to Cold…. When someone is appointed/designated/uplifted from peer to manager/supervisor… the fun emails cease… the “let’s talk about that sumbitch” or “I can’t friggin believe he/she did that”… done, finito… from different shoes they look… hot to cold…

Farrah Fawcet… hot to cold..

Has beens… Hot to cold…. Donka shane… Moon River… Go go--Go Johnnie go…

Life…. Life can be hot to cold… Yesterday was cold to hot… (I left at 3pm to run to bank to beat checks that would be coming thru at 4pm.. OH was that a good/hot feel)… today.. Because I took off early… had friggin’ stupid meetings yesterday… the feel of life at work went from hot to cold…

Ok, I’ve loitered about this sumbitch too long. You mighta been hot when first here - but the value of the verse is slipping, I know, and you cold… or getting colder…I will end, versus talk about outdoor projects we’re hot on… only to become cold… Sex, that was good for so GD many years… that’s become cold… Enjoyment, of so many things that were once hot, gone cold…

Perspective I guess….It’s my hope that life for you is hot.. Even in cold times…Please accept this hot apology to admit I don’t have a fun/happy ending to this.. Thus I leave you cold… Please have a great night… day tomorrow.. And cover your nips.. They’re showin.. Love, Victurd.

That was the week that was………

Never understood why Sunday is the first day of the calendar week… I know I know there are peeps out there that ain’t in the Monday thru Friday grind… but I thinks most of us is… Also, Dolly’s song, “9 to 5”.. that always bugged the shit outta me… who works ‘9 to 5’? Are we’n’s in the Midwest gettin’ screwed?

Morning paper…. Southwest Airlines boots lady off flight because her dress is too short…. Nuther article… Parental Advocate groups are complaining because there is no monitoring of motion pictures onboard airlines and today’s movies of aggression and somewhat ‘indecent’ scenes have the PA group wanting the FAA to set guidelines.. Make up your minds airlines! That was a weird combo…

Impetus… Sometimes in life we needs impetus to get our lazy butts off our ass and into gear… into action.. A recent emailed pic of Wally, The Beav, and Eddie Haskell - (how they look, today, 2007) wadn’t pretty - and the thought was “holy shit’… makes ya wanna take a few laps around the track… buy some Oil of Olay.. Do something young and stupid like a 1anda half off the diving board… Saw Bob Newhart reunion.. Same thing… GD time flies..

Life’s been a big zit of late… Victor, are you gonna bitch, moan, throw pity party? Mebbe.. .but justa tiny one! Remember the feeling of having a humongous zit on your face? You didn’t wanna go out in public.. You couldn’t wait for this time to pass… No matter what you did, that big ole zit stared you in the face.. You got the hee-bee-jeebies looking in the mirror? The ‘complexion of my life needs a change… ‘a pinch’…. eww.. Hehe..

I, an old fart, am a lucky Kansas Citian.. I got to sneak outta school in for the Super Bowl parade my Senior Year… and… I sat proudly in the VERY last row of Game 7, 1985 World Series (we played the Cardinals.. I had on an old shirt.. I’d drawn a picture of the State of Missouri on it… and written in magic marker “May the WEST team win”.. corny, I know.. But you’ve been here.. So deal with it!).. Anyways.. I’ve lived thru the best of times with sports teams in our town… I pity anyone 22 or younger… They’ve got to think we’ve always sucked. On the other hand - we did get more than one first down today.. And A-Rod only hit one homer today versus two yesterday… reckon we should count our blessings…

Seen in the paper… somewhere back East… kids are no longer allowed to play tag… holy crap.. To me… that was the very first inkling of any such thing as there being something special about boy/girl… if Suzie chased you, that meant she liked you.. Wouldn’ta known what to do had she caught me.. But I remember the thrill of it.. No longer… Tag was followed closely by climbing the rope… I remember… as I climbed the rope.. WOW… .what’s that kinda sensation? Hey Coach? Can I do it again?.. Victor, did you really just tell that? Uh huh, I thinks I did!

Reid and Soanya… only 859 days left at sea to make it 1000.. Not much new really… They were painting places Reid repaired from their collision at sea.. She said she wanted to help.. So he harnessed her in.. helped her over the edge… she had second thoughts.. .basically, without saying as much, said “are you fucking crazy?”… Sad thing is, yes, I think he is. (Victor you’re just jealous because he convinced a 23 yr old to live with him for three years)… yeah.. Mebbe you’re right…

Ok, done. Tired. This week: let’s… let’s email someone we ain’t emailed in awhile.. let’s call someone we ain’t called in awhile… let’s pop in (I’m rude that way, but it usually gets me a free beer) on someone we ain’t popped in on in awhile… and let’s… let’s do one nice thing to spoil ourselves… Deal?

Have a great week… oh… and for experimentation purposes… hell… let’s give anyone and everyone we see (of the opposite sex) that look.. Like… “bebbe, I WANT you”.. and see what happens.. Victor, you’re tired, go to bed… Ok dammit… Happy week, love, Victurd.

Rainbows......

Thursday morning, as I drove into work - there was this incredible halfa rainbow in my path… no matter which way the Interstate curved - it always managed to be at the precise location of where I was going.

I hurried a bit - anxious to get to the parking lot at work…. Kinda a big, huge open space - perhaps there I’d get a closer view of the end of the rainbow. The pot of gold.

So…. The thirty-five minute drive was reduced to twenty-seven minutes - and as I arrived at the vast, open space - I was no more closer to the end than I was when I left from home.

Then I deducted, rainbows are like life. Gorgeous. Those super special, perhaps somewhat infrequent moments - when everything has to be simply perfect. We have those in life. A moment when you look at your kid and their zestful exuberance for something - and you catch the wondrous smile…

A mate… perhaps simply sleeping there… Thoughts roll thru the brain… smiles happen… you look and you’re reminded of the good times, the fun times, the intimate times… a rainbow moment…

The joy that comes to your face when you’ve purchased a Christmas or birthday present that is opened and met with exhilaration. Catching an elderly one smiling and taking it all in….

In the old movie Parenthood (sorry, stuck on that, it’s a fav of mine)… when Steve Martin’s youngest has forged up to the stage to stickup for his brother.. And the play was basically ruined… Martin went thru a rainbow moment… some of the people were laughing at him for being the parent of this child who ruined the play (like life’s dips).. Then he glanced at his wife’s mother - and remembered her line “the roller coaster is my favorite.” He rode the low into the high.. Then glanced across to his wife - who was so proudly smiling for the vim and vigor of her youngest… an out of body experience for him of life - and all there is about it - and what there is to appreciate - and to not worry about. A rainbow moment.

I lost eight minutes that day hurrying up to find the end of the rainbow. I coulda taken that time to actually count the hues. To perhaps more closely observe the eyes of other motorists - taking this wonder in. Coulda peeked closer at the storm in the Western sky, and then over to the calm of the Eastern sky, and then penciled in on the wonder ‘tween them.

I didn’t. I hurried for gratification - and once I arrived I missed the point, living, watching, taking it all in as we go IS the gratification.

Life is gracious. Please drive the speed limit of life. Love, Victurd

Sponge Bob ‘Long‘Pants….

I could while away the hours
Conferrin’ with the flowers
Consultin’ with the rain
And my head, I’d be scratchin’
While my thoughts were busy hatchin’
If I only had a brain….

Of course. The scarecrow on Wizard of Oz… His brain was madea straw.

I hearda rumor, there’s a company in our fine region, they allow Fridays to be Casual Days. There’s big tadoo at this company - as they’ve recently tightened the noose on the rules… as in two full page size 10 type put me to sleep by the third paragraphs setta rules.

Onea the rules, I hear, is “You may wear shorts on Fridays, but not before Memorial Day, nor after Labor Day.”

I hear tell there’s a real smartass that works for this fine company, and he thought this was a pretty stupid rule. As in “GD it Ralph, get in outta the rain” kinda rule. So said smartass, wrote this Resourceful Human in charge of the two page novel… and I hear tell it went something like this:

Subject line: The scarecrow….

Meat of email: “was famous for ‘if I only had a brain.’…. Well, we do. We use them. We know when to wear shorts, when not to.”… yada yada yada and said smartass wrote a memo (Very nice one I might add… I seen it) as if it were a note from Management to the Foot Soldiers rescinding the Memorial Day to Labor Day rule “leaving it up to the discretion of the individual employee as to when to/when not to wear shorts.”

A birdie told me said smartass got email back that said sumpin to the likes of “we appreciate your input. The owners are out of town until Monday. We will forward your suggestion.” So, using my brain, er, smartass using his brain, he deducted this to kinda say “nice try, seeya tomorrow in blue jeans.” I can’t believe that little smartass wrote that to this Resourceful Human.

In some ways, I resemble that smartass who said all that. I mean, I’ve gone thru times wheres I’m sure there were doubters as to whether I did have hay up there insteada medulla oblongata.

Likens the time I delivered appliances as a kid for the local GE Dealer. I huffed anda puffed this GD (Humongous) fridge up this lady’s porch steps… rolled it down the hallway bein’ careful not to knock off the plates she hada hangin’ on the wall. (Why do people hang plates on the wall? Don’t that make it hard for ‘em to hold food? Wouldntya look kinda stupid all standin' there lickin' the GD plate?).. Anyways, I unboxed it… plugged it in.. took off all the protective crap around the handles, trays, etc.. and then hooked up her icemaker to the hot water line. You didn’t? I did. If I only had a brain.

I’d unravel ev’ry riddle
For any individ’le
In trouble or in pain….

With the thoughts you’d be thinking’
You could be another Lincoln
If you only had a brain…

In the early 80’s… I coached the women’s basketball team at a local college. Not badly, if I do say so myself. I, at one point, thought I had a brain. Playing the Ottawa Braves.. Or Bravettes, hell I forget. We had road uni’s (with odd numbers) and home uni’s (with even numbers.)…

Well… they had a rule, if a player tried to enter the game that had a number that wasn’t in the scorebook, it was a technical foul (for you’ns that ain’t gotta brain about basketball.. That means something really bad happened.. And the other team gets to shoot two free throws.. AND THEN.. They get the GD ball back outta bounds…

So… Out for the tipoff runs ole #’s 22, 32, 40, 44 and fitty. Scorekeeper was a scratchin’ her head… hollered for the ref to come over and takea peek at the scorebook. Seems our manager had entered the ODD numbers when she shoulda entered the EVEN numbers. Oh shit. (Ceptin’ it was a Baptist College, so I really said “Oh heck.” So.. We begin the game with a technical foul… two free throws… oh, and wait.. That twas just for number 22 who was listed in the book as 23... Uh huh… two more for 32 (who was listed as 33).. And 40/41..etc..etc… Oh heck, before the clock ever ticked we was down 8-0.. AND they got the ball.

SUB REF… We’d like number 10 to check into the game. Sorry coach, we got #11 in there, but no 10. Technical foul. It was an Oh Heck good thing this was before the day of the press covering women’s sports.. For I could see the headlines… “Ottawa 64, that Baptist College 42... Coach bemoans “If I only had a brain.”

Victor, tell ‘em about the time you built a fireplace… hung and nailed the mantel but it was a shade uneven so you took the hammer and tried to knock it off as hard as you could and hit your middle finger instead. Up yours.

I would not be just a nuffin’
My head all full of stuffin’
My heart all full of pain.
I would dance and be merry
Life would be a ding-a-derry
If I only had a brain - Whoa!

So… tomorrow is Friday… Happy Sponge Bob ‘Long’Pants to you. Love, Victurd.

WAIT A MINUTE!!!!!

Wait is an interesting word…. Victor, is this gonna be like another Seinfeld friggin’ episode? Ahh go brush your teeth harsh breath, just lemme speak… k?

Wait is soooooooo very friggin’ diverse.

We think of waiting in line. In a line. I remember from my Sonic days (“Victor, do you know what your problem is? You’re too God Damn nice!) that, for every minute a customer waits, it feels like three to them.

Damn daddy I don’t miss those days.. Whenever a car beeped in an order… “the wait” started.. Goals… we had goals… had to serve ‘em by such-n-shucha time.. (All the whilst there was a clock/$$$ thingy that computed your labor costs/versus your sales…)… I couldn’t wait, I hadta follow it, observe it…

Whaddya say to someone who’s been waiting that’s PO’ed to begin with? “Welcome to McDonalds may I take your order?”…. or… do you go the rebel route and say “geez :Louise, I feel some crunches could do you some good mister… would you like a look at our Healthy Menu?”

“Wait a second” is reserved for someone who’s got something important to say.. But it’s on the tippa their tongue.. And we must wait.. Whilst their brain tries to recall what it is we’re waiting on…

“Wait justa minute” is conjured up by someone who’s slightly pissed off… perhaps offended by whatever action it is you’re taking.. And they makeya stop and think.. “gulp, am I doing the right thing?”

“Wait justa GD minute”: comes from the mouth of someone you’ve really perturbed, and in most instances, it pays to listen to their retort, for you never know if they’ve worked for the Postal Service or not. (Please know… I HAVE.) hehe.

“WAIT!” can be said to young punk at street-crossing… Mandatory.. Emphatic…

“Worth the wait.” This could be anything from the dude that hung out at Best Buy until midnight for their 20% off sale ( bought a 47” HD TV) to the feller that’s been pouring out dollars on the chicky he’d always dreamed of being with… and….. Uh huh… he was…

“Wait”… said as a last resort to a group that outnumbers you… and you’re hoping they’ll listen to reason….Usually, you’re outnumbered, and this request goes for nil.

“I can’t wait!”… Kids at Christmas time.. Dude in like third month of dating same chick.. Group of twelve trying to get in/out of joint for lunch in the allotted 60 minute time.

“You just wait”… a threat… “You’ll get yours”… Because of some action we’ve demonstrated, we’re instructed to wait for the payback. Never really understood this one until ex’s like 8th month of pregnancy and said with wink of eye by momma inlaw….

“Wait”… for Christmas… for “her”… for “him”… for tomorrow.. For 5pm… when we toss and turn - and await alarm clock… for the baseball season… football… opening day of hunting season (NOT me)… for a better day… for our mate to get home.. For a concert… a gathering.. The weekend… the reunion…

“I can’t wait for the next blog so hopefully it will be something of quality versus this shit.”

Opening up MSN, Yahoo, SBCglobal, and waiting for the return email to the one you’d sent.

Putting you’re heart on a limb, and awaiting whether it will be met by a chainsaw, or, by a ton or Miracle Grow….

Ok, I know you’re awaiting the end of this blog. I’m waiting until 11pm to retire. I’ve waited for friggin’ ‘her’ for like six years now… I’ve waited to do laundry due to insufficient funds this week (tomorrow is a “flip ‘em”)… I am VERY anxious in this wait for ‘her’, but I hope it’s after said laundry day…

We spend virtually all of our life in wait. The phone call. The letter. The next task. The next communication.. .The next interaction.. The next invite… The next RSVP… The next blog…

I’ll wait to calculate… lemme see… separated in 2001... (she rode off on a Harley)…. Been waitin’ since (for “her“, whomever she may be)… and.. Using the rule “for every minute one waits, it feels like three”… then that’d make this the year 2019...

Wait a minute on that thought. Yikes, wait!.. Just waita second.. Wait! Please!. Would you wait a minute?… Can you wait a sec?…

Waiting frustrates me. If it does you, and you’re 40-something (or hell, 50-something) rich, blonde, divorced and well off… please call me at 867-5309.…

I’ll be waiting…. Love, Victurd…

Victor, I’m 25, and I take offense to your blog “Was yesterday a better place and time?”

Well.. Talk then.. I’ll listen…

YES, text messages are generic (kinda-sorta) but I bet back in your day… if you sat in the far back righthand corner of class… and you thought the chickie settin’ in the front row, lefthand corner had a nice booty… if you tried to catty-wampus a note to her to let her know that, you’d be ‘history’ before the note made it to the 3rd row…. Yeah, you’re probably right…. See? In a millisecond, we can reach out and touch… Get with the millennium….

K, give ya that one… but what about meals as a family.. Watching the tube together.. Going on visits with your folks, to see loved ones… My mother and father have access to the internet ALL day long.. I ‘touch’ them often.. Just to say “:hey, I love you.”… My grandma, in Sheboygan, she’s “with it” as far as the internet.. In fact… I just took a pic of me and my new boyfriend and emailed it to her between classes… she’s already emailed back “well, you’re right uptown now!”… How longa drive is it to Sheboygan? How much did it cost you to call her?

Ok… not bad.. how about snail mail? Hah, gotya there… It’s tons more fun to get a card in the mail insteada a GD “E card”… ya know? Ok, Victor… Let’s be honest here.. I read you blog about you ‘owing’ your Aunt in Jeff City about 54 birthday cards… Am I right? I’m sorry, what were we discussing?… Uh huh, what I thought.. Do you know that I ‘touch’ all my aunts on New Years Day, Valentine’s Day, St. Patty’s Day, Easter, Cinco De Mayo, Mother’s Day, Independence Day, Labor Day, Columbus Day, Halloween, Thanksgiving AND Christmas via “E Cards”? And HOW MANY snail mail cards have you sent this past year?

Were you aware, in the time it took you to drive across town to visit your friends, I coulda already called and congratulated my friend Shea, clicked in to see how Sarah was feeling, buzzed Naomi to tell her I love her… and, of course, called Sean to tell him he was the hottest thing since Tabasco Sauce?… Yeah but, I got Koolaid and cookies…

And you made some smartass comment about the “grounded 7th grader who already knows what he wants to do jobwise.”… HAVE YOU SEEN “ARE YOU SMARTER THAN A FIFTH GRADER” and if so, will you admit to being a little humiliated? How does this stackup to your jar fulla dead lightning bugs? HOW can you compare “whiffle ball, hide-n-seek, operation-Monopoly to cha-ching, understanding a 401K and the magic of compound interest?” Yeah but… you’ve never seen the view of chasing Susie Smith from behind…. I rest my case…

AND… in the time you spent “exploring” to come up with a GD (gosh darn) crawdad, our surfing unveils what’s going on at the Gaza Strip, CNN Headlines, an update on the War in Iraq, followed by a thirty minute study of the Shiite/Sunni conflict, AND how to tune up a 1999 Honda Accord. So how’s your hands smell from that crawdad now?

And PROGRESS… “little bitty towns being proud, not wanting to reach out and build, butt up agin’ the next town.”.. In a 30 minute jaunt, I can get my nails done, pickup a pizza, rent three movies, pay my water bill, grab Herb’s suits from the cleaners, buy bread from the bread store, have my favorite cappuccino, and get the right sized drill bit… you can have your pastures of unmowed grass….

And this “right on time” crap.. We’re aheada time… we do in an hour what took you weeks.. We learn by 6th grade, the knowledge you graduated with.. We can dial up Aunt Rose in Kokomo for FREE when it usedta cost you arm/leg… We can ‘tivo’ our favorite show, watch it when we’re damn well ready to, when you usedta haveta leave a gathering to catch Andy and Barney.. And I TOO can watch Andy and Barney, anytime I wanna…

And I bet when you usedta go visiting, to the drive in, to downtown KC, u spent hours making wrong turns, using wasted gas, and having tempers flare.. Welcome to GPS you old codger.

(Ahm… could you excuse me a sec? I’ve got to go use the little boys room… ‘right on time‘…gulp, love, Victurd)

Was yesterday a better place and time?

We slept in beds that had sheets “clotheslined dried” smelling wonderful… We’d pile in and go to the drive in… sometimes 5-6 cars lined up… nowadays, it’s a Extra Value meal along with a Redbox movie..

We’d go exploring… on foot… not surfing… we passed handwritten notes… no generic Times New Roman text messages…

Drugs came from the Pharmacist when you were sick…. An addict was someone the walked the streets of New York…

"Visits" weren't cell phone calls on the way to the salon... they meant drives across town.. usually included coffee, tea, maybe even a beer for the adults, and Koolaid and cookies for us kids...

"Home schooled" meant the kids from the next block kicked your ass in whiffle ball that day in your front yard.

Instant Messages in the day were “Tim, it’s your turn to bat”, “all-ee all-ee in free”, “first one to see the street lights on!”, “aw crap, there’s the Flanigan’s dinner bell.”

Drives around town were affordable… and it never failed you’d meet friends out and about doing the same thing… no cell phones for parents to stay in touch, we simply knew when we had to be home..

It was Ok to wear base paths in the front lawn… climb up old, majestic trees… and walk to town by ourselves…

Insteada Mario, Yugi, Wi, EA Sports - we played gin rummy, didn’t pass go to collect $200, and spelled out the name of the love of our life on the Quiji board….

HD TV’s of the day were ‘Help Dad” there’s a tube out again…. Families gathered to watch Ed, Marshall Dillon, Andy and Barney… as we aged, we even got to be included to watch Johnny…

We played Baseball in the summer, Football in the fall, and Basketball in the Winter… if it wasn’t that season, our ball gloves, helmets and basketballs stayed in the closet… One good pair of Converse worked for all….

We made our own birthday cards, stamped them, and handed them to Zeke - who threw a bone to Gabe….Back then “E” was just a letter someone forgot to put at the enda our family name…

After gathering the courage to ask a lass out, we knew it would be followed by a 20 minutes “looking over” in her parent’s living room prior to going out… Details of the date ending time were verbalized - and penalties were enforced if that time wasn’t met… Grounded didn’t mean “already gotta handle (in 7th grade) as to what he’s going to be when he grows up.’

Guilty to admit I’ve been divorced twice - back in the day, your brother was your brother, your sister was your sister, you mom was your mom, and your father was your father.

There was more grass than concrete - and it was somehow prettier to look at… Small towns were proud, not in any hurry to reach out, build, to butt up agin’ the next town.. Sure, we had the elite areas of town, and the middle class, and the poorer areas - but, as kids, we were blind to it.. And we all were included in the good times… That involved races too…

Speakin’ o races.. When’s the last time you saw two kids race on foot?… run down a slip and slide?… catch a crawdad?… fill a jar with lightning bugs?.. Play jump the brook?… Have an ironed on knee patch on their jeans?…

Bitter of progress, growth, technology, the new ways? No… you can’t fight, stop, change all that… I am happy about growing up when I did…Perhaps ole Buck O’Neill termed it best. Buck lived thru the era that wouldn’t allow him to play in the Major Leagues due to the color of his skin…Bitter?… Sullen?… Grudge?… Nah, Buck wrote a book and entitled it “I was right on time.”

Children of the 60’s… we were right on time… Happy day.. Let’s not lose the traditions.. .take your grand kid to catch a bluegill.. Organize a game of hide and seek.. Buy a pack of ball cards and see if they enjoy the taste of gum as much as we… Drive ‘til you find a place that sells mugs of root beer… giggle as you play Operation together… top it all off with a peanut butter and banana sandwich… right on time… Love, Victurd.

Why?

Why?

In science… when there’s a question… why is followed by research.. Oft times, the research helps lead to an answer, an explanation… a cure… answers are found..

In an ended relationship.. We ask why… Normally, we won’t know, or don’t know the answer even though it probably festered and stared us in the face for some time… so the answers were there - we might have been wearing blinders…

In forming children into adults… they’ll question “why?”… .Why must I do this… Why can I not play out after dark.. Why do we lock our doors at night… Why can’t I have more ice cream.. Why does that man walk so funny.. Why doesn’t that lady fix her teeth… Why must I share with my sister… Answers… to all…

Why do we have rules at work… at school… at play… we must… to conform.. To coexist… in the sense of fairness to all…

Why do we rarely/never hear from that old friend any longer… Why do our bodies become frail as we age… Why do we not pickup the phone and call those we love more often…. Why do we occasionally let house repairs linger in disrepair until it comes to being a have to…

Why opens our ears to understanding… to learning… to observing... to remembering… to repeating... to listening… to responding… to questioning… to thinking…

Why is usually answered by a boss… a parent… an educator… a coach… a physician…. A friend.. A loved one… sometimes we even turn the why question back to the one who asked - and let them try to reason/deduct… there are reasons to ask why, and for virtually every time why is asked - there’s an answer…

This morning I watched a beautiful young couple bury their two-month old infant who recently succumbed to SIDS…

For this why there is no answer… May God bless his soul and lend comfort to these grieving parents…

She said.....

"Victor... You said to read you 'blog' and see into your heart.....well I see a very lonely person who is doing his best to keep his sunny side up. We've all known lonely Vic....I mean really known lonely. It sucks. We're all looking for Utopia in the opposite sex but I guess we have to find our Utopia in us first.”

He said…. Yeah, mebbe lonely.. but I’m in love with life.. so not totally lonely… Honest, I can be driving my car – as I was about ten minutes ago, and this bigass ole smile flashes as I think of a moment in my life… I’ve been lucky enough to have lived an incredible life..

Utopia? I’m too self deprecating for that.. I’m too keen to the fact we’re human, I’m human.

Gotta sign on my desk… “Transportation is like umpiring… you should start out perfect… and then get better.” (It’s just Northa a my sign that says “A clean desk is the sign of a blank mind”  thank you Kendra)… And kinda Northeast of my sign that says “When Kendra has flatulence, it’s impossible to sit here and type.”.. and a little Westa my note from Kendra with a smiley face and the word “Dork!” written on it.)

I know this person meant well.. and that perhaps the intent was to be happy, like one’s self. That I am. That I do. I get mad at myself, but I likes me.

Sunny side up? You’re damn tootin’. (Although when you’re talking eggs, I’m a scrambled fan.) Life is all about choices. If you work with me, and you don’t know me, there’s a reason. If I see you out in public frequently, but we don’t know each other, there’s a reason. I try to immerse myself with good. Upbeat. Happy. Non-cruel. Light. Loyal. Smiley. Reasonable. Human.

Yes. Lonely. Physically lonely – and I don’t just mean the “oh baby oh baby.” Touch. Big on touch. Sure, ain’t fun to not be able to. But it’s kinda like pullin’ your car into the BBQ joint – you know – sometime – hopefully soon, you’ll be lickin’ your chops.

“Gloom despair and agony on me” until then? Not no’s, but hells no’s. The older I get, the more I appreciate the day, the hour, the minute. I’d like to think I finally “get it.”

However, if you are of the opposite sex… and your name happens to be Utopia… 867-5309. Can call collect if ya wanna.

May your life be sunny side up, and your eggs of your own choosing. Love, Victurd.

A real phone call some years ago......

"Hello."

"Hi, my name is Mrs. Smith, and I'm Denton's first grade teacher." (Gulp, what's the kid done? Must be pretty severe for her to call us at home.")

"Well hi Mrs. Smith, I'm Vic, Denton's stepfather.... Denton talks awfully nice about you, and he loves going to school.. so I add that up to the fact you must be doing a very nice job."

"Hey thanks... I appreciate that... the reason I'm calling today...."

"Yes? Yes?"

"Is Denton got put in time out today, and I just felt you should know about it."
(We'll murder the bum... what'd he do? Is anyone hurt? Was there pencil lead involved?)

"Ouch, sorry to hear that... what happened?"

"Well... we were discussing planets."

"Ok"...

"And right in the middle of our discussion he raised his hand."
(Did he ask to go pee right there infronta God and all? Did he cuss? IF SO HE LEARNED IT FROM MOM, NOT ME!!)..

"Yes ma'am.. and what'd he ask?"

"He stood up... and said 'Girls are from Jupiter, that's why they're stupider.' "

I can't remember what I said... but I know it was a good three minutes of covering the phone whilst I laughed and peed my pants a bit..

Ya just gotta love children. And I could see Denton's bright smiley face as he proclaimed this. Handsome kid, but reckon I'm a tad biased. A few weeks later, this first year teacher dialed us up again... seems this time Denton was chasing girls on the playground.. "oh yeah.. how come he was??"... "because they were hitting him."

As the year went on, Denton adjusted to life with the first year teacher, and they grew pretty nicely together.

Whew... long day today... short blog.. I'm scooting to find the nearest napping spot... May life be nice to you.. May you be nice back.. love, Victurd.

Writer’s block….

Before you EVEN start in on me, I never professed to be a writer. This blog has come about because of an email exchange from a co-worker. It’s a lady that pisses me off, because, the more creative, more animated I try to be, she easily one up’s me.

Finally, I gave in. I sent her an email. “My brain is plain ole plain ole gray matter… yours is like a rainbow, vibrant, colorful, passionate, decorative, descriptive, outtaleftfieldive, whydidn’tIthinkathative..”

She emailed back. Basically saying I’m the funny one, she’s tried blogging.. And she gets infronta the monitor and sits. Writer’s block. TWB, or TBW, or Tcougar-Mellencamp, whatever your name is, I find this hard to believe.

As I was contemplating “writer’s block” on the way home, an affliction that every would be blogger experiences… I decided whatthehell… why not a blog on ‘block’…

Block me if you want. Holy shit there’s a lotta definitions for block. Wikipedia mentions the first block we think of… building blocks… I had ‘em.. My kids had ‘em… certain probably same for you.. I was so excited on my 3rd birthday when momma finally bought a 2nd seta blocks.. Allowin’ me enough L’s and T’s to spellout “I W-A-N-T A B-A-S-E-B-A-L-L.”
Quite impressed they were.

Building blocks. A very generic term, meaning anything from “keep them little bastards occupied at LaPetite” to “we’re gonna turn ole’ wet-behind-the-ears’ into a veteran - soon. A progression.

When you grew up… your street.. it was “your block.” The friends you ran with, played, experienced, explored, there’s NEVER another time in your life like that. It will always be special. No matter how many years later it is you run onta someone from ‘your block’ you see them as they were. You smile. You thinka the good times, ne’er to be replicated, ne’er to be forgotten. Your block.

Around the block. This can be misleading. There’s an old sumbitch at work, I love him, I hate him. He’s always right. He always leaves me thinking “why didn’t I thinka that.” He makes the right ethical choices, the right economic choices, etc.. . You attribute it to “well…he’s been around the block.”

Then…. There’s the HS Senior… or the College Sophomore chickie.. And the term ‘been around the block’ kinda takes on a negative connotation.

There’s the block in football. Fundamental, yet seemingly hard for so many. I’ll never forget, in HS as I watched game film dreaming of my date the upcoming weekend with the girl that “had been around the block” - there was an interception. We had this Big’n on our team. A transfer from Arkansas. Nice enough guy, kinda timid. Anyways, Bill (the Arkansas kid) had gone out for a pass… It was intercepted by the guy guarding him… Bill turned, and literally ran stride for stride next to the guy that intercepted it for forty yards. Within grasp of the dude. Finally, as we sat watching the film, “Ole Ron” (the more vocal of all of our coaches) said “Hell Bill, why didn’t you throw a block for him?” I guess maybe you’da had to been there… I peed my pants a bit I think….

Block. Gang nowadays. Suckers got tats with their block tatted on ‘em.

Block. In basketball… More commonly referred to nowadays as “git that shit outta here.”

Block…like the main part of an internal combustion engine.

Blockhead. As in Charlie Brown.. But he’s got a cool take on it all…

Block, as in Muhammad Ali had it down. Rope a dope.

Chopping is done upon a butcher’s block.

In medicine, an obstruction.

Wouldn’t ya know the psychologists paint it perfectly “A sudden cessation of speech or a thought process without an immediate observable cause, sometimes considered a consequence of repression. Also called mental block . “

Go on the block: for sale.

Out of the blocks: the starting position for a race…

TWB, don’t let a little ole thing like writer’s block strap you down. You rock girl, as does your writing. If you should ever attempt to start blogging again, PLEASE don’t let writer’s block catchup to you.. . You’re much too wise, above that. Please keep on keepin’ on.

I don’t have a clever ending here. Very sorry. My mind is blocked. I do love those that have read. My sense of humor vein must be blocked. Thinking back to ‘passing out’ blogs, I gotta block that shit out… could be a real blockage…

I reckon the main point here… thinka life/your brain, as filter… allow in what u want.. Block what you don’t…Life, inspitea an occasional roadblock, it be good. Race urass around the block? Love, Victurd.

Is it prostitution if you list “penis for sale”?

Pervert. I knew you’d look.

I read the news today oh boy
About a lucky man who made the grade
And though the news was rather sad
Well I just had to laugh
I saw the photograph……………….

Woke up, fell out of bed,
Dragged a comb across my head
Found my way downstairs and drank a cup,
And looking up I noticed I was late.

Today, at the I.M. Chait Gallery natural history auction, lot No. 127. A mummified baculum, or penis bone, from a species of walrus that went extinct 12,000 years ago. The ‘piece’ is more than 4 foot long, curves to a point, and is covered with weathered skin and dry muscle tissue. Bidding starts at $16,000. Holy crap.. At $333.33 per inch, I could get $1833.32.………..

Perverts. You got your calculators out didn’t you. Now, this penis above. Holy shit. Do you think momma walrus would run away fast if he wasa coming…. Or… run TO fast? That’s what I call BIG BOB. I am the walrus Goo goo g' joob

Talk about roller coasters…. Catch the Parade Magazine article on Kelsey Grammar? Age 12, grandfather died suddenly. Year later, father shot to death. Age 21, his 18 year old sister was adbucted, raped, and left abandoned to bleed to death - which she did. Damn.

The next long portion of his life would be a combination of successes, shot down by failures (drug - Ecstacy, Valium, cocaine, etc.. alcohol… 1982 - 2 yr marriage.. Another short one… long love affair… a nine month marriage… a two year engagement…. THEN, he met “her”. Camille Donatacci. He’s clean, he’s sober, he’s happy, he’s a live in parent -- all since “love at first sight” in 1996.

His take: It takes a lot of courage to love. Isn’t that why we’re here - to love regardless of the cost? She decided to give me love. I’m a very lucky man. Somehow, love just came out of the world toward me, and with it, a sense of fulfillment and joy.” Way cool.

The KC Star’s story of a triple amputee (local soldier, has his right arm left) and his statement “Everbody keeps calling me a hero. I have a hard time hearing that. I was just a soldier doing his job. The heroes are the men and women still over there… I got to come back. I didn’t die. That’s a blessing. God Bless this young man for not only his service - but for his wisdom, his heart, and his recovery.

Remember the blog about “I think I can tell” - and we really can’t ever be sure about people, life, jobs, family, situations etc? Remember the article about Jackson hiding? (Lisa I know you do, Kendra said you read it and were bummed.) Happy to report - I think maybe I was wrong. He comes out a lot now. His voice ain’t booming like it was - but I don’t think he’s ready for the kitty nursing home either. He rubbed up agin’ my leg eight, count ‘em, eight consecutive times the other day. I can just never tell - and I’m so glad I’ve possibly been off on his remaining time.

Eh, that about wraps it up for today - I’ve bugged you enough of late. Special note to “M” who’s been strapped in and trapped on the downslope of the roller coaster for sometime. You go girl. There’s too much damn livin’ left in that soul of yours.

I read the news today oh boy
Four thousand holes in Blackburn, Lancashire
And though the holes were rather small
They had to count them all
Now they know how many holes it takes to fill the Albert Hall.
I'd love to turn you on.

I am the walrus Goo goo g' joob. 4’ long? Curved? $16,000? Koo koo ka choo… Love, Victurd.

Razz butt…….

Dear diary. Why are those people here? Why do they care? It’s me, Mr. Not So Much Self Confidence. Mr. Average. Mr. Too-white-a skin (nothing racial intended AT ALL, just wish I could get killer tan.). Mr. Make a Few Bucks, very few. What are they doing hanging around here?

Diary, my car spent from Wednesday morning until Friday evening in the car hospital. Fuggers were nice, but wow do they have expensive tastes. “This and this and this and that, and oh yeah down here this” is all wrong with my Hot….. Rod…. Lincoln… So I asked the Service Manager what are we talking about for this and this and this and that, and oh yeah, that down there?”… I could hear cha-ching going thru his brain, with each hunnerd, he added up his own commission..."Let's see, one-hunnerd (whispered $17).. two hunnerd (whispered $34).. Three hunnerd ($fitty-one)" and so forth.. finally, “oh, somewhere between $900 and $1000.” My gut instinct was to say “u sonsabitches… sold me the (“wonderful…runs good… should lastya a long time”) car for not hella much more than that less than two months ago… and now u tell me it’s a piecea crap?

So, I called CitiBank, told ‘em I’d skip a montha mortgage, wished em a Happy Labor Day.. AT&T next. “Please… I can’t mail the check until sometime in late October, but could you keep my phone line going so I can still have DSL and mebbe, just mebbe, get laid onea these days?” (Computerized voice said “I did not understand that”. You wouldn’t, you’d haveta been in my shoes the last six years to understand. Or my undies. Hell, been dark there, ceptin for puttin’ new ones on when I bathe. Or when I flip ‘em. Hehe.

“Son, see them there 12 jars a fine, fine Skippy Peanut Butter?.. Yep, September & October. Shit, it’s good stuff!”

“Hi boss.. This is Vic… remember me? I sit in that cubicle kinda cattycorner to the International 2 printer…kinda redheaded, always gotta shit-eatin grin on my face? I was wonderin’, ain’t had a raise in quite some time. Bastards want like a grand to fix my Hot…. Rod…. Lincoln.. Ya reckon you could gimme an extra thou this month since I’ve really been workin’ hard for you the last five years.” Click. Bastard.

Soooooooooooooooooo… I told the dude at the auto hospital to do this, but skip that, and that, oh and that down there… that should get it running… not overheatin’….

So they did that… And the owner of the place, I reckon feeling some guilt for selling me the car and having all that crap go wrong shortly after said “you can even make one payment this pay period ($337.64) and one the next ($337.64). But… lemme tell you, the checkenginelight is on, and we probably oughta check that while it’s in here.”

Holy shit. There it is again. The roller coaster. The exhilaration. The pensiveness. The “what next”.. Eh, in a way, it’s comfy. It’s lifelike. Bumps in the road no matter what you drive, even if you drive onea them rollers that presses down asphalt. Even if you’re George Clooney. Selma Hyatt. Hugh Hefner (not many, but I’m sure he deals with bumps. Yes, pun intended.)

Soooooooooooooooooooo………….. I trudge on in my quest for ‘her’. For ‘right’. For ‘oh baby oh baby.’ For receiving that smile. For watching her get outta bed and simply admiring the view as she walks away. For that handhold. The caress. Falling asleep tucked against one another.

Checkenginelight. Rollercoasters. Ups, downs. YES. No. Wrong turns, GPS “turn left ½ mile, you’ve arrived at your destination.” The weeding the narrowing. The hurt, the unintended giving of hurt. Not yet been ‘for sure’. Want to be. If there is sucha thing.

I better go now. Lotta traffic down by the air show at the old downtown airport. Gotta cutup that cardboard box… find the magic marker. makes me my sign… “Friggin broke… can you spare some change in case I need gas money to go meet someone for the potential of “oh baby oh baby?” Shit, I’d pitcha nickel if the holy shoe was on the other foot.

Actually, life is good. Somehow it worked out there’s going to be an extra paycheck there between now and next CitiBank payment. Rollercoaster back up. YES. Oh baby, oh baby.

Until the day we pee our pants and forget our name…. Whether that be in a 4500 square foot house, or, under the 12th street bridge… love, Victurd.

PS: The hell is “Razz butt?” I was trying to thinka whatinthehell I was gonna write about. Razz butt is what my friend Sam says when he misses an easy pool shot. Sam smiles a lot, even though he just got laid off three weeks ago. He hops with joy when he hit’s a good shot. He’s fun. He’s light. He’s life. He’s going thru his own ‘checkenginelight’ and he sets a good example of how to deal with it. Razz butt.

Exhaustion……

Can u think of the times in your life when you’ve been exhausted?

Sure, it can be the evening you weeded the flower garden, mowed the entire yard on a 98 degree day… Cleaned the house - every inch of it - with CD’s blaring in the background to motivate your old butt. (sorry!)…

Could be work has gotten you stressy… The boss wants more, you’ve already given the max, and you’re like Ralphie when he dropped the lugnuts…”FUUUUUUUUUUUdge”…. On edge, spent, needing a rest, wanting a tiny pat on the back…

Could be anything that gets your psychy… A concert you’ve organized for ten friends - an counted the days leading up to… A special coming event for a child.. .a sibling.. A parent.. A loved one… a great friend.. When it’s finally past (although you enjoyed the whole damn ride) the combination of nerves, want to do good, physical work, and perhaps playing host or hostess - has left you drained. Exhausted.

A loved one in a sick way. Visits. Moral support in low times. Painting a chipper face to combat not-so-good prognosis. Draining. Tiring. Spent. You fall into bed.

Christmas. December 26th has go to be the biggest “PHEW” day there is. Did I buy enough? Were the gifts right? Was the meal enjoyed by all? Did Uncle Tom and Cousin Eddy get along ok?… Did we spoil the little ones that need to be spoiled enough?

Then new job. First day. You try to fit in, stay behind the scenes. FINALLY time to go home. You made it. You feel like collapsing. They never knew. You were on edge. You smiled amidst the I HATE THIS. The whole day you thought about your living room, plopped down infronta the TV - and how much safer you’d feel. But you can’t.. You hadta. You made it. Sleep by 8pm. Exhausted. Drained.

There is a gist to all this. Ok, I won’t keep it a secret. I have been down this exhaustion road so many damn times… You meet someone… it’s incredible… You wait for their next phone call.. Their next touch.. Their next email… You check yahoo/hotmail every seven minutes… I don’t have a cell.. .but those that do… I’m sure you hold and peek, just to make sure you haven’t missed THE CALL.

Wonder is incredible. Dreams of a gorgeous tomorrow can makeya feel like you just finished the Boston Marathon… in a wheelchair…

Your mind aches because it can’t focus on work. It’s dangerous to drive because your view of the road is skewed… You are SO up, it’s gotten you physically, mentally spent.

I’ve been down this path before. I accept the fact for all times it didn’t quite workout. I understand sometimes it just ain’t meant to be. I can handle Goldilocks saying “you’re just too - whatever.”

The exhilaration for the potential of tomorrow sucks the livin’ bajeebies outta ya. Is it worth it to get this excited, walk around like an idiot with a smile on your face, visualizing one, two years down the road if all is good?

Fuckin’ A Ray it is.

Looking at the weeded flower garden, even though you’re too tired to untie your GD tennis.. Is it worth it? Of course.

Arriving in your driveway, eyelids fighting to close. You’ve left your friend/loved one at the hospital, covering your worry with smiles/feel goods. Do it again tomorrow? You’re GD right you will.

Christmas AGAIN at your place next year? Sure.. You’ve visions of all that happened stuck in your brain forever. Photos/video capture the good. Celebrate those that are there - you just never know from one year to the next.

Pulling in the drive after day one on new job, a smile HASTA friggin’ creep out. “Tomorrow, I won’t be the center of attention. I WILL fit in. I WILL be onea them.” Of course.

As an old fart, communicating with one whom you really really enjoy the communication. Exhausting. Exhilarating. Tiring. Fun. Scary. Been down this lane before. Guarded, yet yippee kai yai. Thoughts turn to tomorrow whilst your body/mind hurt from today. They’ve given their all. You’re too damn old to carve the intials VS + RK into a tree, yet you’d love to.

Hope is very tiring. To yearn is to run a marathon. To fast forward the video tape of life will make your eyes go bad, and perhaps cause hurt.

Sorry to have gotten so personal. All I know is I’m one tired/exhausted mo-fo. I’m reminded of eating at El Sombrero, my favorite Mexican joint. Each and every time I depart there after a meal, I spout out “I hurt good.”

If you’ve been here the entire GD time I’ve written, first thought that comes to mind is WHY? Second thought is you thinking “ohhhhh, here we go again.”

I’ve probably sent 46 goofy THIS IS IT emails to friends/relatives over the past years…Each and every one fun, exhilarating, exhausting.

In sales, every “no” puts you that much closer to “yes.” I don’t know if this is a “yes” but I’m enthralled/excited/exhausted/inspired about the potential.

Of course, to get hopes up, only to be letdown is even perhaps more tiring. I suppose I could live life away swinging on the porch swing, never venturing into ‘gamble.’

Can’t. I’ve got to believe (and it’s what keeps me going) “I’ve yet to be in the best relationship I’ve ever been in.” Those of you that are in relationships - make ‘em even deeper. Think of what you can do to show your appreciation for your man/woman. PLEASE borrow from usn’s that ain’t gotta better half - WE’RE ENVIOUS BECAUSE YOU DO! (and happy for you.) So, let that person know how lucky you feel.

If you’re looking/waiting, and there ain’t no exhausting times… ya just never know. What’d Allen Funt say? “When you least expect it.”

Four weeks from now I might not even remember the email address or the phone number, but for now, I’m tired as hell about the possibilities. Tis a good thing, even if it ain’t Goldilocks-like.

May you someday push your bod/your brain/your love/your ‘do good’/your hope for tomorrow - that you will be spent. Exhausted. Asleep two minutes after your buns hit the mattress.

Loveya, Victurd

This sympathy shit………

Some days are yummy… some days are yucky… some days there’s yum in yuck, and vice versa…

Yesterday there was some major yuck, but, I really really really really tried to handle it with nonchalance… to show… iT rEaLlY dIn’T eFfEcT mE. Did I do Ok?

Hey, lemme tellya… Your car breaks down, and four chicks at work (innocently for sure) say “well why didn’t you call me… you coulda stayed at my house.”… I got 12, count ‘em 12 emails about “man, sorry about that.” Someone even bought me a 12” sub from Subway. Shit, this sympathy gig is kinda cool! “Oh you poor thing you!” Fuckin A Ray.

I’m thinking’, tomorrow, I might quickly walk out infronta a car doing… oh… 10-12 MPH.. Yeah, that’s enough.. Just a good enough BUMP, it’d knock me (mostly unscathed) to the ground. “Oh Victor, lemme nurse those wounds… you really shouldn’t stay alone.” Shit, I might even get flowers. Dinner. Monies from being litigious with the driver…

Then… in a few days… I can stand just behind the corner of our L-shaped hallway, and wait until I hear voices… time it right so I head around the corner I get waylaid. Yeah.. To the ground… “Victor? Are you Ok? Can I pay for your laundry bill? Would you like a 7-up for your tummy? I kinda enjoyed where you bumped me, can we do that again?”

I could quit work and do this.. Get meals.. New clothing.. Maybe next time we could even jointly fall to the ground, and then hell, who knows after that!

Ok, seriously. Thanks for your good will. I gotta good Willie outta it. (Victor, remember your niece reads this.) Oh yeah, sorry. And so does my 88 year old Aunt in St. Louie. Remember wet Willie’s Eileen? That’s what I was talkin’ about, uh huh…

Ok, seriously. Victor, you can’t lead with that two paragraphs in a row. Ahm, I did. And this time I was really gonna be serious. I was actually so up yesterday because people put me there. People, in general, are nice. My neice said "is there ANYTHING I can do." And it wasn’t just chickies. Dave, Hammer, Jim helped. Today Mikey followed me to auto shop where they will perform car surgery. Leon even said he’d pray the bottomline from the mechanic was low. I love all. Receiving love like that just makes ya wanna send it out yourself tenfold. Truly.

Lemme rephrase. Yesterday was yummy with a little yuck thrown in. Yuck leads to yummy. Arguing leads to making up. Confrontation leads to better understanding and appreciation of another. Southward passion can lead to Northward passion. Differences can lead to agreements.

Where was I? Oh yeah, sprawled on the floor about to get.. VICTOR! Sorry. Tongue in cheek. (Mine, you pervert.)

So, he who wallowed in the pity of his coworkers has learned great lesson from the muck of yesterday. If you see someone down, pick ‘em up. And, if you’re down, fight the urge and be up. Don’t worry (unless you’re overdrawn) be happy. Don’t worry, be happy - don’t worry be happy (unless the mechanic looks at you over the top of his glasses!)…

The landlord (CitiBank) say your rent is late
He may have to litigate
Don't worry, be happy
Don't worry, be happy

In every life we have some trouble (WHAT? BLOWN HEAD GASKET?!!!)
But when you worry you make it double
Don't worry, be happy
Don't worry, be happy now

Ain't got no place to lay your head (Actually, the sofa in the lobby at work was quite comfy)…
Somebody came and took your bed
Don't worry, be happy

Here's a little song I (Bobby McFerin) wrote
You might want to sing it note for note
Don't worry, be happy

Sooooooooooo… lemonade outta lemons? NOOOOOOOOOOOOO…
You cut the lemon in half… eat the yummy stuff.. Then hand the two empty halves to the most endowed one there, and say, “look, I got you a new bikini top!’ (Show them to me… show them to me…right Carrington?)

So, the message (NOT PREACHING, I’m reminding me.) is that bad is always followed by good. Sometimes there’s two bad in a row - but it’s followed threefold by good. So look that bad mother (shut your mouth) right in the eye, and don’t let it get you down.

Lemons/lemonade. Lemons/Pasties.. Yuck/Yummy.. Worry/sympathy.. Ugly events/niceness and concern from those that surround you.

Borrowing from Bruce Willis again…….. YIPPEE KAI YAI MOTHER (shut your mouth)…

Don’t worry, be happy… don’t worry be happy………. Love, Victurd

And then it happened......

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HELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!

WHAT’S A MATTER VICTOR? Eh, just hard comin’ up with new crap to write here…
OHHHHH, writer’s block eh? Jane, you ignorant slut, whomever said I professed to being a writer? I see life, I blog it, simple as that.

Oscar. The raccoon. You could write about him s’more. Nah, that fugger, I think, is still in my roof. I wouldn’t want him chuckling as he peers down thru the clear plastic in the ceiling where the sheetrock fell due to my in need of fixing the roof.

K. Then cats. Cats are always popular - you getta lotta comments from both pro and anti cat lovers/haters… Did you like just get here?

Tell a story then. Even CJ once said “Victurd, your stories rival Bobby’s.” Nah… I’m storied out. It’d be like when the ex would roll the eyes when she’d hear a story I’d told 423 times. You’ve heard em all, ‘ceptin’ maybe the ones I’m too embarrassed to tell. You mean like that one time when you were sicky, you’d been to HyVee, you didn’t think you could make it home to the squatter, and you stopped at the City Park, and you ran to the BR, and before you made it to the john you.. SHUTTUP ALREADY. Wtf are you anyways?

Let’s hear a Pollyanna/rose colored glasses story… come on, you always perk me up with that crap… Nah, Pollyanna’d out tonight. It’s kinda a blasé’ old night.

Then retell your frat brother tying his “thingy” in a knot… or… about how Bert (The trash guy) was so damn huge he’d stick his “thingy” out the truck window and say “GD, if it was a snake, it woulda bit you.” Nah, old news all. Besides, fitty-four is too old to be telling penis stories…

Then go back to where it all started.. That shitty car you used to drive. You know, the one that didn’t have Park (only RNDL and how you “couldn’t date a lady that lived on a hill”) and that had halfa bumper, checkenginelight came on, went off, AC didn’t work, radiator leaked, you’d sweat your ass off in line at McDonalds, the headliner was falling down.. Had 2 of 4 hubcaps… Ahm, sorry, think they’ve heard all that crap…

What about getting’ laid. You talk about that A LOT. Yes. Yes, I do. Do you see a pattern here? “Talk about it.” Next idea.

Talk about your hatred of racism, cruelty to animals, “uppity” bastards, bling-bling lifestyles. Bored here. Try again.

You’ve talked about touch, sex, women drivers, old drivers, Chuck Shepherd shit, old folks, and “what is old”, life’s stressors, Mother’s Day, Christmas as a kid, signs, THE SEASONS, “taking pics with your eyeballs”, Louie Armstrong’s Wonderful World…Reid and Soanya, ain’t heard an update of that May-December thing.. Olfactory, Empty Nest, Maynard, Farts, Rivers, hooters, men and urinals, perverts, butts, Sanjaya, The Geese flying - long time no hear that shit, overwhelming, kisses, internet dating.

I’m blogged out…. Sorry. Looking at all that… just the tippa the iceberg, I can see why none of you who started with me are still around!

I remember at one point - we dipped so deep in “searching for stuff to write about” we even talked about time spent in and average lifetime on the squatter. Ya see, I don’t do that. Unless the stall nexta me is occupied and I try to really squeeze it out softly so I ain’t embarrassed, I’m a “wham-bam” kinda pooper.

I hereby promise to jump on the squatter tomorrow… and I WILL NOT get up until I have something, cleaver, worthy, creative - to add. Let’s just call that… a “blog log”. (Victor! Are you talking like that one time when u lived in the frat house.. And you had two squatters in the bathroom… and there was like this silent rule… whomever had “THE KING” wouldn’t flush it.. And you hada “THE KING” sign that you’d tape to that squatter.. And it was Sig-A-Ma-Nu Honor not to move the sign, NOR FLUSH, until a bigger King came along?).. Ahm no, not like that at all. I’m fitty-four now, remember.

Bless you to those that have been here awhile. You’re fucking nuts for doing so. I’d list names, but then I’d miss one and feel like… well… a tiny king..

I’m thinkin’ Mexican for lunch tomorrow. Yeah.. That’ll work… that’ll get me to the squatter.. I’ll sharpen my #2 lead, and hopefully come up with something halfway amusing.

Tune in tomorrow. Same batshit channel. Blog log. Love, Vic-long-turd..

Make mine vanilla please....

Perhaps I rationalize, I dunno..

Going on a trip? I don’t mind the Super 8 or the Day’s Inn… Don’t need the fancied boxed soap.. The exotic toiletries… The Servi-Bar.. 642 channels… I can carry my own luggage, but thank you… I’ll take Vanilla..

House? I’d love 4500 square feet, but know I wouldn’t keep it clean… Got one car, so don’t need the garage for three… I spend however long it takes to pull something offa hanger, put it on, and go.. Walk in for that?… Gimme a room to sleep, a room to compute, a room to stretch and watch TV… a place to cook, and a small shady place to veg out - out back… I’ll take vanilla…

I love to look at silver, gold, diamonds. It’s impressive to see folks dressed as Shaft.. Fingernails with more designs than Good Housekeeping… Brunomagli? Ah, Converse works…Don’t need Eddie Bauer, Nordstrom’s, even the Men’s Warehouse… Kohl’s clearance rack works when money permits, and hell - I like going to thrift stores/garage sales.. I guarantee it… Make mine vanilla…

Hummer? Benz? Corvette? Oh sure, it’d be fun… but my cars always look like shit inbetween rains, and.. If Hazel accidentally lets her grocery cart getaway into the driver’s side door of my Hot… Rod…. Lincoln (1995) it ain’t that bigga deal… It starts.. It goes from point A to point B, and it’s quite comfy/homey.. Make mine vanilla…

Woman? Her wants: “Minimum income $75,000.’ “Must carry no baggage.” ‘I don’t wanna deal with Viagra.” (Victor? Are you admitting?… I didn’t admit to nothin’.. I have just read that on some sites.. And have actually had it said to me as well.” I find that sad. We is what we is.) “I want the finer things in life.” Me too, it’s just that I think we agree to disagree on what tho$e are… Certainly everyone has prerogative, and that’s all good. Gimme the woman who’s stoked talking a walk around Watkin’s Mill.. Who’ll take the $5 ride with me to the top of the Liberty Memorial for an orgasmic view… Who’ll lay beside me on the blanket to watch the Friday night movie outside @ Crown Center… Who doesn’t need 3 different colors of hair.. Who doesn’t spend more in a month for fingernails and nails than clothing for her kid… Make mine vanilla please….

I’d rather have popcorn and coke watching a two overtime High School basketball game than having a nifty, seven utensil dinner on the Plaza… I’d rather take a three hour Sunday spin in the country than to worry about how to extend my pinkie at a wine tasting event… I’m vanilla…

Vanilla precludes me from many things.. Sure there are some things above, I quite frankly would like - but again, I am vanilla.. And I see nothing wrong with vanilla.. It’s me, it’s who I am.. And (Talking to me) ‘deal with it.’…

For whatever reason, I’ve always been attracted to those that don’t need much assistance in their quest for beauty.. Into the shower, outta the shower, combing the hair out - presto.. I guess I’ve heard it called “the natural look.” Lotta things ex and I disagree on in life - but she very definitely had natural beauty. A makeup look with no makeup. A natural twinkle in the eye. But she extracted me! I guess that’s vanilla huh?…

Winning the lottery would be nice. Owning the company would be rather cool. I wouldn’t enjoy dealing with the IRS, and I couldn’t look the 20+ year employee I just let go in the eyes. I’ll take vanilla.

The following, to me, are some of the vanilla joys of life: a baby’s laugh.. The passionate look of a kid in a sporting event.. Lovers holding hands walking.. A gentle rain.. Sitting in the shade beneath a breeze on a hot day… Water, anywhere… Any kinda nice old room to seek shelter in from a storm… Hearing the good deeds of whomever has been selected to sit in the Buck O’Neill Legacy seat at Royal’s stadium… seeing folks having a good time.. Diversity… a forwarded email joke from a friend… a family dinner… coffee, newspaper, and a cig… beers with friends…

I’m a simpleton. A vanilla one. Love, Victurd

I heard "You’re only as happy as…..

Your unhappiest child.”

Heard that the other day. Damn is their truth there. I ain’t wantin’ to shirk my duties here, but, I’m thinkin’ this is mebbe a forever thing eh?

I can just tell........

Do you have that sixth sense about people? I’d always thought I had… Of life, I’ve noticed if I see someone in a knowingly uncomfy position - I try to break the ice, bring in some levity. A new coworker - say. Ya just know their tummy is churning inside - no one likes ‘starting over’ in a new environment - that feel of having all eyeballs placed squarely on you…

But that really ain’t the “I can just tell” kinda thing I meant. One, two, four, twelve trips to a local establishment in our fine old hometown - onea the ‘regulars’ blurts out ‘HI VIC!”.. “Hey Dennis, howya doin?”…

So we sit by each other…. He started talking about people…. In general… and soon he winged a compliment at me.. “Dennis… you don’t even know me and the kinda person I am.”
“I can just tell, and I’m usually right on.”

You?

If there’s someone I don’t know… or am still (dammit) in the judgmental mode - I stand back, afar - and observe. Listening is one of life’s great teachers.

Love. I’ve said it before, I can fall in love in the aisle at Piggly Wiggly. Shit, just this morning, happened to be behind some knockout (wonderful wonderful smile.. Oh and never-ending legs in a short SHORT black dress)- walked out to the car behind her - and I really think I’m goofy enough I’da jumped in with her - and ridden off into Happyland for ‘er and ‘er…

We don’t know… do we?

Love/living, to me, is like exiting the high dive. There ain’t no goin’ back. Only if you video tape it, rewind it - can you go from the water back up to the board. We jump/dive in - and we’re at the mercy of not knowing. I can’t just tell. I think I can, but I really can’t.

Stealing from Mother Teresa: People are unreasonable, illogical, and self-centered,
LOVE THEM ANYWAY….

A marriage covenant. Broken. What you spent years building
may be destroyed overnight, BUILD ANYWAY

Work two hours overtime a night, every night for an entire summer. Come in on at least one, if not two of your weekend days. Then get called into the ‘principal’s office’ for that extra cig - or, for checking one’s Hotmail. The good you do will
be forgotten tomorrow, DO GOOD ANYWAY

It’s really really hard to just know. We, people, are selfish, will upon occasion take for our own taking, spin things to our own advantage. People really need help but
may attack you if you help them, HELP PEOPLE ANYWAY.

To dive in the water, not knowing, not being able to tell - can make water murky. If you do good, people will accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives, If you are successful, you win
false friends and true enemies, DO GOOD ANYWAY, SUCCEED ANYWAY.

We are human, all of us. We get hurt, we hurt. You can’t “just tell” about someone. I’ve learned that lesson in marriage - and sheepishly, have had occasions where I’ve learned about me. Them ALL CAP ones ARE from Mother Teresa. Next one’s mine.

If you do dive in… into friendship… into marriage… into family events… into nuclear families.. into dating… into employment… into life… you’re bound to be dumped, bid adieu, hurt, have a bridge burnt, find out your date is Goldilocks and you’re just “too” something.. Sit back and wonder (in the down times) about life and it’s worth. DIVE IN ANYWAY.

Happy swimming, love, Victurd.