Shortly before midnight, and the start of the new year. I've been watching the CNN coverage with Anderson Cooper and Kathy Griffin. I should probably channel surf on this, but the pairing of these two is just too irresistable to resist. Kathy put on twitter that she would take questions and I sent her one. What if Anderson Cooper and David Gregory mated and produced a super race of silver haired babies?
I want to wish all a very good, prosperous (me especially), and healthy New Year. We are turning a corner here in 2010, and I think, or I hope, that we can put aside idiocy and ignorance and treat each other as we would like to be treated ourselves. This means full equal rights to all and the realization that love of any kind is not only acceptable, but indeed something to be yearned for. When it comes down to it, it's the gift you remember, not the wrapping paper. Love is only love, and it's wonderful enough. I have had the opportunity to love a number of people, and my only regret is that I, for one reason or another psychological, was not able to love them back as much as I should. To all of you that I do love, and you know who you are, Please know that I love you to the very best of my ability. It may seem inadequate or stunted to you, but still waters run deep.
Almost midnight here...Ball is dropping in Time's Square. When did this become the only place the New Year happens?
There... wait for it... That's it. Happy 2010 everyone. My resolutions for this year: Laugh more often, not be afraid to cry or show weakness, smile as much as I can, appreciate the people around me, and, as always, try to be a better person to myself and for the benefit of others. This, of course, means no more drive-by shootings, but then again, I can't afford bullets anymore, so that one's not a stretch. I will probably stop rubbing my hands together saying "Now I've got you," along with not tying Little Nell to the railroad tracks. Again, not a huge stretch, but I like to keep my goals attainable. I will kiss Boris and Natashia on the mouth, and be nice to moose and squirrel.
Yours, lost as usual, in the ether.
Fearless Leader
The Virtues of hair dye
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Happy New Year's Eve
Kind of hard to type right now. Harder than my usual problem of shake, rattle and roll typing that has become my usual habit of late. The reason? I burned the fingers of my left hand last night while fixing dinner, so I've got blisters on the tips of my digits. This would not be notable were it not for the fact that dinner last evening was a Salad. "Darth Vader. Only you could be so bold." Well. "Don. Only you could blister your fingers making a cold salad." I won't go into detail, but it was a Cobb Salad invovling hard boiled eggs and bacon.
It's about 2:40 a.m. as I write this. The clouds have parted and the almost full moon is giving the outside an eerie glow. I thought it was false dawn until I looked at the clock. It is that bright. I read, I think, that we're having a rare full moon on New Years. I hope that portends well for my upcoming road trip and reminds me to pack my hair trimmer. Never know when the lycanthropy will set in these days, and even during the daytime, it's good to keep your palms shaved neatly.
I posted yesterday of my plans, or "to do" list. That all went straight to hell. But then again, I expect these things, which is why I like to think of immediate goals and orders as "suggestions." It started raining early in the afternoon and to celebrate (as one does), I promptly took a nap on the sofa, waking at around 4:00 p.m., when it was time to feed the kids, and then did the litter boxes, and by then it was time to start thinking about dinner, and so on. I'm going to (quietly) try and undertake some of my tasks now while Ter is sleeping, but the cats, figuring that I am up and about so it must be time to be fed, are constantly underfoot. Nothing like filling and carry about a large watering can for the indoor plants while they are doing their very feline best to trip you. More fun in the dark (which seems to inexplicably happen every night).
Speaking of the road trip tomorrow, I looked at the local weather for Springdale UT, which is at the entrance to Zion. As of late afternoon yesterday, it was a balmy 27 degrees. Global warming be damned, the Mormans have decided that the Beehive State will do as it pleases, just the way their great, great grandfather's decided it should be. Seriously though, if the precipitation is headed inward and downward toward that locale, it does make road traveling a bit more interesting. No worries on the first leg of the trip; I've never seen snow in the daytime on I-15 going to Vegas, but heading towards St. George and onward the next day? You don't know, you can't know. I have a festive ski cap for my head (purchased when Ter 'inadvertently' shaved my head. No really, that was a misunderstanding, but the effects were the same), and a weather resistant parka, big hiking boots, and the like, and with the amount of vodka I generally keep in my system, I'm like a car radiator filled with an ethylene-glychol mix. The only thing I really don't own is any under-garments against the cold. I've been going "comando" for the past three decades or so. I have two pairs of tight briefs for use when I go to the doctor's office and may have to drop trousers for the purpose of cortizone shots to my knees or such; other than that, it's a free for all in there. In freezing temperatures (and I know this from my years in Idaho, winter means that your testicles are happiest when they are nestling against your lungs), I am a less imposing creature viewed sideways, or any way, for that matter.
Boy, I am off track here. What I was driving at was that I am, while not approving of same, rather used to snow and cold. Alan's lady is not, and is not readily accepting of same. I am SERIOUSLY hoping we will have clear skies and bright sunshine for our trip. Alan has a number of pictures of me writing my name in snowbanks by the roadside, but I can't imagine the lady doing the same. That is definitely a guy thing, although my money is on Hillary on that one. Once again, I digress...
Yours in the ether. Delores is getting jealous of my pouring a drink for Carmen Miranda, and you know how that can get.
It's about 2:40 a.m. as I write this. The clouds have parted and the almost full moon is giving the outside an eerie glow. I thought it was false dawn until I looked at the clock. It is that bright. I read, I think, that we're having a rare full moon on New Years. I hope that portends well for my upcoming road trip and reminds me to pack my hair trimmer. Never know when the lycanthropy will set in these days, and even during the daytime, it's good to keep your palms shaved neatly.
I posted yesterday of my plans, or "to do" list. That all went straight to hell. But then again, I expect these things, which is why I like to think of immediate goals and orders as "suggestions." It started raining early in the afternoon and to celebrate (as one does), I promptly took a nap on the sofa, waking at around 4:00 p.m., when it was time to feed the kids, and then did the litter boxes, and by then it was time to start thinking about dinner, and so on. I'm going to (quietly) try and undertake some of my tasks now while Ter is sleeping, but the cats, figuring that I am up and about so it must be time to be fed, are constantly underfoot. Nothing like filling and carry about a large watering can for the indoor plants while they are doing their very feline best to trip you. More fun in the dark (which seems to inexplicably happen every night).
Speaking of the road trip tomorrow, I looked at the local weather for Springdale UT, which is at the entrance to Zion. As of late afternoon yesterday, it was a balmy 27 degrees. Global warming be damned, the Mormans have decided that the Beehive State will do as it pleases, just the way their great, great grandfather's decided it should be. Seriously though, if the precipitation is headed inward and downward toward that locale, it does make road traveling a bit more interesting. No worries on the first leg of the trip; I've never seen snow in the daytime on I-15 going to Vegas, but heading towards St. George and onward the next day? You don't know, you can't know. I have a festive ski cap for my head (purchased when Ter 'inadvertently' shaved my head. No really, that was a misunderstanding, but the effects were the same), and a weather resistant parka, big hiking boots, and the like, and with the amount of vodka I generally keep in my system, I'm like a car radiator filled with an ethylene-glychol mix. The only thing I really don't own is any under-garments against the cold. I've been going "comando" for the past three decades or so. I have two pairs of tight briefs for use when I go to the doctor's office and may have to drop trousers for the purpose of cortizone shots to my knees or such; other than that, it's a free for all in there. In freezing temperatures (and I know this from my years in Idaho, winter means that your testicles are happiest when they are nestling against your lungs), I am a less imposing creature viewed sideways, or any way, for that matter.
Boy, I am off track here. What I was driving at was that I am, while not approving of same, rather used to snow and cold. Alan's lady is not, and is not readily accepting of same. I am SERIOUSLY hoping we will have clear skies and bright sunshine for our trip. Alan has a number of pictures of me writing my name in snowbanks by the roadside, but I can't imagine the lady doing the same. That is definitely a guy thing, although my money is on Hillary on that one. Once again, I digress...
Yours in the ether. Delores is getting jealous of my pouring a drink for Carmen Miranda, and you know how that can get.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Getting close to Countdown
Getting close to the out-the-door portion of the road trip. Still have 1001 things to do. Anyone remember the old Ricky Gervais joke? "A thousand things to do with peaches: a thousand and one if you eat the mother-f**kers." It's kind of like that. I was going to post something last night, but my rich and detailed fantasy life took me away and I spend the late hours listening to music on my Palm and ear phones securely nestled under blankets and a comforter. Sounds silly in So. California, but it is getting seriously (to me) cold here in the evenings. Days are still generally warm and sunny, but the nights are getting raw. I'm having to re-think my packing for this trip. We generally share hotel rooms on the road, and I sleep the way I was born (mucus covered, screaming and naked; well at least the naked part. Well I take that back, the way I go through tissues and with my nightmares, who knows?). This is not prurient, Alan and I have known each other for over 40 years, and his lady is used to seeing me in the all-together also, but I find myself oddly concerned over the puckered, red, surgical scars on my torso. If I had the money, I believe I would have tattoos done to incorporate them in a visual fashion (Maybe dragons breathing tongues of red fire), but in the meantime I have to bring clothes in which to sleep. A novel concept for me.
I am a bit concerned that my oldest child, who will be 189 in human years in March, will not be around when I get back. Then again, her feline Katherine Hepburn impersonation is working so well, she may make the cut. Cat personalities being as they are, when the matriarch of the pride is old and weak, other females will start to torment them, as is happening now. Tatiana, who has already grasped the concept of room service, takes every opportunity to do so. Anastasia, who is already a study in feeble, is nearly (or quite possibly) blind, has to be shown where her food is and misses the litter boxes by quite a large margin, is no threat to Tatiana's claim to the throne. The only reason I mention this Morbidity and Mortality Report is that I don't want Ter to have to go through losing another child by herself while I am out photographing some of the most beautiful places nature gave us.
Ah, guilt, it is a wonderful thing. Still have some things to do today; got my drugs, most of the laundry done, half the bathroom cleaned (I saved the toilet area for last, for reasons surpassing obvious), and I think today I'm going to bring out the big guns and bring in the shop-vac for some serious litter scatter removal. At least, that is my plan. What I will end up actually doing is any one's guess.
Yours from the ether. I had to break it off with Tiny Tim. Have been seeing Delores Del Rio. Once you clean off the vomit stains, she's quite a lovely woman.
I am a bit concerned that my oldest child, who will be 189 in human years in March, will not be around when I get back. Then again, her feline Katherine Hepburn impersonation is working so well, she may make the cut. Cat personalities being as they are, when the matriarch of the pride is old and weak, other females will start to torment them, as is happening now. Tatiana, who has already grasped the concept of room service, takes every opportunity to do so. Anastasia, who is already a study in feeble, is nearly (or quite possibly) blind, has to be shown where her food is and misses the litter boxes by quite a large margin, is no threat to Tatiana's claim to the throne. The only reason I mention this Morbidity and Mortality Report is that I don't want Ter to have to go through losing another child by herself while I am out photographing some of the most beautiful places nature gave us.
Ah, guilt, it is a wonderful thing. Still have some things to do today; got my drugs, most of the laundry done, half the bathroom cleaned (I saved the toilet area for last, for reasons surpassing obvious), and I think today I'm going to bring out the big guns and bring in the shop-vac for some serious litter scatter removal. At least, that is my plan. What I will end up actually doing is any one's guess.
Yours from the ether. I had to break it off with Tiny Tim. Have been seeing Delores Del Rio. Once you clean off the vomit stains, she's quite a lovely woman.
Monday, December 28, 2009
Panic in the year 2010
Just found out this morning that all of my carefully laid plans to be ready by Monday for the road trip are a little off. Turns out the 1st, when we are leaving, is on Friday. I though I had a weekend also to prepare. Accordingly, I have been busy enough to require inhaler breaks on a regular basis. Sounds dumb, I know, but when you don't work, you never check the calendar, or in my case, rarely know what day it is. Every night when I retire to my room to read, I have to ask myself if I'm packing a lunch tomorrow for Ter or not. This, and season premier trailers, are generally the only way I keep track of time.
We are headed for Vegas on the late morning of the 1st to pick up HJG, which, I am told, I was wrong about, I think I actually just heard her say "Holy Jesus God" once. My mistake, I get confused easily. We're picking her up at the airport and staying the night there, and then on the way to Zion and the lodge there that Alan I have had such good times in during past years. I know it sounds like a repeater, but HJG has never accompanied us up there, just been bombarded with pictures from the both of us so much that she feels like the City of Dresden. Couple of nights there, and then on to Bryce, Canyonlands, Arches, maybe Great Basin, and Redrock, and whatever form of rock structures that they take a fancy toward. I have a strong suspicion that that Mesquite may be involved also. Alan has a great time there last year when I got sick and he had to conquer the pleasures of the casino and buffet alone while I played dead (of which I am quite accomplished). It's also cheap rooms. Hey, I'm just along for the ride, so I can sleep in the back if I want and let them do all the heavy choices. From there, we will probably swing back through No. Nevada so we can deposit her back in Sacramento. I'm pretty sure the major passes will be open, if not, there is always 80. I've driven that in conditions where the roadsides are nothing but the tail lights of the cars that have spun into the snow banks. Looks like we're going to be gone a little longer than I thought, but I didn't take the side trip to Sacto in mind when I did my original estimates. Truth be told, if we hit Great Basin, it is a pretty smooth sail to Laughlin, NV, but that doesn't make it any easier to cross over to Sacto. From Sacto it is that incredibly long and boring drive down 5 back to home.
Trying to get things in shape here so it is as low maintenance for Ter as possible. Also battling the insurance company who didn't want to renew my prescriptions as it was too early. I had to explain that what I had, while sufficient for here and readily available, helps me not when I am out of state until the 11th. Finally got that on straightened out. I am reminded on a line I read from Carrie Fisher talking about to LA Society women in the back of a limousine, "The champagne is warmish, and the caviar salty; does it never end?"
Anyway, as I said I will try and post as I can en-route. Most places have a WiFi service now, and I will have my trusty laptop (which I have named 'Skippy,' although that is not really pertinent). Then comes the fun of editing a couple of thousand pictures. And that's just mine. All of us will be packing and I swear HJG goes to sleep with the camera and her finger poised on the "take" button when she gets to travel. Since we often share a double, I think she's just looking to catch us guys in compromising or embarassing situations. No, not really (well not much).
Caught by Miss Vicky in the ether (I swear I'd forgotten he was married).
We are headed for Vegas on the late morning of the 1st to pick up HJG, which, I am told, I was wrong about, I think I actually just heard her say "Holy Jesus God" once. My mistake, I get confused easily. We're picking her up at the airport and staying the night there, and then on the way to Zion and the lodge there that Alan I have had such good times in during past years. I know it sounds like a repeater, but HJG has never accompanied us up there, just been bombarded with pictures from the both of us so much that she feels like the City of Dresden. Couple of nights there, and then on to Bryce, Canyonlands, Arches, maybe Great Basin, and Redrock, and whatever form of rock structures that they take a fancy toward. I have a strong suspicion that that Mesquite may be involved also. Alan has a great time there last year when I got sick and he had to conquer the pleasures of the casino and buffet alone while I played dead (of which I am quite accomplished). It's also cheap rooms. Hey, I'm just along for the ride, so I can sleep in the back if I want and let them do all the heavy choices. From there, we will probably swing back through No. Nevada so we can deposit her back in Sacramento. I'm pretty sure the major passes will be open, if not, there is always 80. I've driven that in conditions where the roadsides are nothing but the tail lights of the cars that have spun into the snow banks. Looks like we're going to be gone a little longer than I thought, but I didn't take the side trip to Sacto in mind when I did my original estimates. Truth be told, if we hit Great Basin, it is a pretty smooth sail to Laughlin, NV, but that doesn't make it any easier to cross over to Sacto. From Sacto it is that incredibly long and boring drive down 5 back to home.
Trying to get things in shape here so it is as low maintenance for Ter as possible. Also battling the insurance company who didn't want to renew my prescriptions as it was too early. I had to explain that what I had, while sufficient for here and readily available, helps me not when I am out of state until the 11th. Finally got that on straightened out. I am reminded on a line I read from Carrie Fisher talking about to LA Society women in the back of a limousine, "The champagne is warmish, and the caviar salty; does it never end?"
Anyway, as I said I will try and post as I can en-route. Most places have a WiFi service now, and I will have my trusty laptop (which I have named 'Skippy,' although that is not really pertinent). Then comes the fun of editing a couple of thousand pictures. And that's just mine. All of us will be packing and I swear HJG goes to sleep with the camera and her finger poised on the "take" button when she gets to travel. Since we often share a double, I think she's just looking to catch us guys in compromising or embarassing situations. No, not really (well not much).
Caught by Miss Vicky in the ether (I swear I'd forgotten he was married).
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Slow Sunday
Not really much to report today. I got up around my usual time to feed the kids, and rather than go back to bed, decided to actually cover my sad nakedness with some sweats and continue reading my book in the living room. One of the new books we got yesterday. I had hoped that the books would last so I would have a few for unwinding in strange hotel rooms on my upcoming road trip. Went through one last night/this morning. Not looking good here. I'll have to download things to my PDA. That or if I want to read something-write it myself. Editing is always somnambulent.
Ter picked up some Lima Beans at the store yesterday, and after soaking them overnight, is proceeding to crock pot them with some of the copious ham leftovers. This will be three nights in a row for ham. Like I've said before, we're getting even with the flu that doesn't seem to go away. Tomorrow, I'm seriously thinking of a chicken ceasar salad. I like my ham, but oh you kid. Wow, I really can't help dating myself sometimes.
The plans for the aforementioned road trip seem to be firming up. This is good, now all I have to do is prepare, do some personal grooming (when you very rarely leave the house, hair-cuts and beard-trimming are rarely done and you end up looking like a roadie for ZZ Top). Having a huge and full beard so long you can use it as a shoplifting device is all well and good, but the neck hair threatening your shoulder blades is a little off putting. This and the fact that we'll be traveling in southern Utah, mean that a more acceptable (dare I say mormonesque) appearance is advisable. Better for (and this is my own personal experience) getting tables at restaurants and soothing inn keepers that you are not really the country's only pasty-white terrorist. Seriously on the white part. With the gray comming in so well now and skin you can see a light bulb through, I am nearing translucence. At least I have my health. Whoops. Remember the old joke about the staff officer who has to tell one of his men that his parents died?---Everybody with living parents take one step forward. "Not so fast Jenkins."
Anyway, I'm still together with Tiny Tim in the ether. We're thinking of getting a hard drive together with more room. Happy New Year to all (or at least the three or four people who read my blog).
Ter picked up some Lima Beans at the store yesterday, and after soaking them overnight, is proceeding to crock pot them with some of the copious ham leftovers. This will be three nights in a row for ham. Like I've said before, we're getting even with the flu that doesn't seem to go away. Tomorrow, I'm seriously thinking of a chicken ceasar salad. I like my ham, but oh you kid. Wow, I really can't help dating myself sometimes.
The plans for the aforementioned road trip seem to be firming up. This is good, now all I have to do is prepare, do some personal grooming (when you very rarely leave the house, hair-cuts and beard-trimming are rarely done and you end up looking like a roadie for ZZ Top). Having a huge and full beard so long you can use it as a shoplifting device is all well and good, but the neck hair threatening your shoulder blades is a little off putting. This and the fact that we'll be traveling in southern Utah, mean that a more acceptable (dare I say mormonesque) appearance is advisable. Better for (and this is my own personal experience) getting tables at restaurants and soothing inn keepers that you are not really the country's only pasty-white terrorist. Seriously on the white part. With the gray comming in so well now and skin you can see a light bulb through, I am nearing translucence. At least I have my health. Whoops. Remember the old joke about the staff officer who has to tell one of his men that his parents died?---Everybody with living parents take one step forward. "Not so fast Jenkins."
Anyway, I'm still together with Tiny Tim in the ether. We're thinking of getting a hard drive together with more room. Happy New Year to all (or at least the three or four people who read my blog).
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Just some thoughts
Went shopping today. This entails actually leaving the residence. Went to Barnes & Nobel, PetSmart, and Albertson's. Was planned to do other chores, but that is for tomorrow. The 40 lbs. of cat litter and the like, along with the wandering which seems to be necessary in bookstores, and the further wandering which comes with a stop at the groceteria, all tend to wear me out quick and smart. Then, unload said purchases and get home in time for the cats to drive you batty if they are not immediately fed.
Good quote, it's mine, so you all have my permission to steal it: "The good thing about being a drunk is that you go through life with a light load." Read that as how it's meant, and it's kind of funny. Better, if you are somewhat of an invalid, even less is expected of you. Of course, you are broke and a dissapointment, but hey, if you keep a light load on, you don't care as deeply.
Saw something funny at Barnes & Nobel. There were two stack of Cussler's new book "The Wreckers." What was funny, is that one stack of hardbacks had 20% off stickers, and the other 30%. I was half tempted to buy it, I have read the first of this series, but I figured I'd better wait until they get their act together. Found some cheaper paperbacks though, so it was not a waste. Ter was looking for a WWII-book writer and the store was crowded and the info kiosk busy, so we did even more wandering then necessary. She dissapeared for a bit and when I saw her she was in the proper section talking to a youngish vet who was describing all the war books to her and making recommendations of the proper choices. Naturally, you take your chances in this scenario. I thought maybe he was hitting on her, and you don't mess with another guy who is trying to be charming and knowledgeable by showing up, sans visible wounds, saying something like, "Is this clown bothering you?" Secretely, I was kind of hoping he was hitting on her. Good for the ego, and who knows; she's not gotten antything in that department from me in a long, long time. Personally, I firmly believe that anyone who shows an interest in you and can carry on a good conversation and not be obnoxious, is a keeper. No need to take them up on any offer, but still, it's nice to be asked. If you're a woman and you're not interested you can say "Thanks, but I think my wife Melinda would not approve," or if you're a guy, "I think my husband Steve is looking for me." Another good thing for a woman, "Have you seen my six kids running around? They always get away from me, and with their runny noses and sagging diapers, they can be quite a handful for a single mom." I guarantee you that will send everything with testicles running far and fast.
Trying to figure out how I am going on an upcoming road trip with Alan and HJG. That's his lady, but I am assuming it stands for "Happy Juicy Goodness," at least, that's what she tells me. I just hope I can survive the journey. Big nature hiking in the snow is right out. Taking pictures from the window of a warm car is much more likely. Ter has told me that if I die, we'd better make a side trip to the Grand Canyon so my corpse can be tossed off and look like an accidental death. There is insurance in that. Our first stop will be Vegas, half-way to the southern Utah National Parks, but since I no longer can afford to spend multiple ten's of thousand's of dollars at my favorite casinos, we'll have to pay for the rooms. I got spoiled for the last ten years or so by just being able to call and tell them what I need, and get it all comlimentary. If you've ever stayed at a top floor suite at the Rio with a view of the whole strip, you'll feel my pain.
At any rate, if there's no WiFi hookups where we are, I will be out the blogging business for a week or so the first week of January. If I can, I will keep up. Happy New Year to all.
Still yours in the ether.
Good quote, it's mine, so you all have my permission to steal it: "The good thing about being a drunk is that you go through life with a light load." Read that as how it's meant, and it's kind of funny. Better, if you are somewhat of an invalid, even less is expected of you. Of course, you are broke and a dissapointment, but hey, if you keep a light load on, you don't care as deeply.
Saw something funny at Barnes & Nobel. There were two stack of Cussler's new book "The Wreckers." What was funny, is that one stack of hardbacks had 20% off stickers, and the other 30%. I was half tempted to buy it, I have read the first of this series, but I figured I'd better wait until they get their act together. Found some cheaper paperbacks though, so it was not a waste. Ter was looking for a WWII-book writer and the store was crowded and the info kiosk busy, so we did even more wandering then necessary. She dissapeared for a bit and when I saw her she was in the proper section talking to a youngish vet who was describing all the war books to her and making recommendations of the proper choices. Naturally, you take your chances in this scenario. I thought maybe he was hitting on her, and you don't mess with another guy who is trying to be charming and knowledgeable by showing up, sans visible wounds, saying something like, "Is this clown bothering you?" Secretely, I was kind of hoping he was hitting on her. Good for the ego, and who knows; she's not gotten antything in that department from me in a long, long time. Personally, I firmly believe that anyone who shows an interest in you and can carry on a good conversation and not be obnoxious, is a keeper. No need to take them up on any offer, but still, it's nice to be asked. If you're a woman and you're not interested you can say "Thanks, but I think my wife Melinda would not approve," or if you're a guy, "I think my husband Steve is looking for me." Another good thing for a woman, "Have you seen my six kids running around? They always get away from me, and with their runny noses and sagging diapers, they can be quite a handful for a single mom." I guarantee you that will send everything with testicles running far and fast.
Trying to figure out how I am going on an upcoming road trip with Alan and HJG. That's his lady, but I am assuming it stands for "Happy Juicy Goodness," at least, that's what she tells me. I just hope I can survive the journey. Big nature hiking in the snow is right out. Taking pictures from the window of a warm car is much more likely. Ter has told me that if I die, we'd better make a side trip to the Grand Canyon so my corpse can be tossed off and look like an accidental death. There is insurance in that. Our first stop will be Vegas, half-way to the southern Utah National Parks, but since I no longer can afford to spend multiple ten's of thousand's of dollars at my favorite casinos, we'll have to pay for the rooms. I got spoiled for the last ten years or so by just being able to call and tell them what I need, and get it all comlimentary. If you've ever stayed at a top floor suite at the Rio with a view of the whole strip, you'll feel my pain.
At any rate, if there's no WiFi hookups where we are, I will be out the blogging business for a week or so the first week of January. If I can, I will keep up. Happy New Year to all.
Still yours in the ether.
Friday, December 25, 2009
Merry, Merry
Heck, no one will read this, I haven't actually cuaght on like a house on fire yet here, but anyway, to those who so chose to do, MERRY CHRISTMAS, and a happy nude year.
I haven't really made plans for the New Year specifically, but in my case they present themselves to me. If I can ride in it, stay in a hotel with it, photograph it, pitch stories with it, and get delivered safely back home, this is a deal breaker and I may rise from my grave to say "Well, o.k. then."
Off point there. Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.
I'm actually having sex with Tiny Tim here in the ether.
I haven't really made plans for the New Year specifically, but in my case they present themselves to me. If I can ride in it, stay in a hotel with it, photograph it, pitch stories with it, and get delivered safely back home, this is a deal breaker and I may rise from my grave to say "Well, o.k. then."
Off point there. Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.
I'm actually having sex with Tiny Tim here in the ether.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Christmas Eve
I'm in sort of a blind panic here. It's about 2:00 in the afternoon and I have still not gotten my sorry butt off the couch to clean the kitchen and do other househusbandly duties (not to mention, and this is no particular order of importance, but more ollefactory, taken a shower or trimmed my beard). Terri will probably get off early today and find me in a state of dishevelment with no housework done. I have totally given up on planning Chrsitmas dinner. Hell, I don't eat anyway, the ham is already pre-baked, and the sides can be microwaved in about three minutes. Nothing of the personal touch today I fear. If I had a large can of baked beans and some bacon, whatch out, killer dish on the way. Some potatos, mayo and dill, same thing. Very Holiday and fitting with a ham dinner. What we'll do now is anybody's guess, it just probably won't be mine. We do have a dozen eggs, but other than deviling them, I can't think of anything festive to do with them. They are great in the potato salad, for which I have no potatos, and a rich and creamy ingredient for the delightful white chesse sauce I make for my hollindaise asparagus, but again, no ingredients. Hell, maybe we'll just save the ham and have beer and corn dogs.
My best wishes to all on this Christmas Eve.
Yours in the ether of despair.
My best wishes to all on this Christmas Eve.
Yours in the ether of despair.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Worse before it gets better?
I just figured out it's two days before Christmas. Seriously. When you have no working schedule anymore, the days of the week are defined only by the shows on network TV. Last night it was NCIS, so I'm thinking today is a Wednesday. That would make Christmas on a Friday this year. What luck that. An actual Holiday weekend.
Terri works for a company which is owned and operated by a Jewish family (and yes, nepotism runs about like clear stream water over soft polished stones of an igneous variety), but they do have to let the kids off for Christmas. I could relay stories... Ter got out of the mandatory appearance at the "Holiday" party this year, using my illness as an excuse. I think that worked out for everyone. You understand that the "Holiday" party is restricted only to actual employees, no husbands, wives, or families. Cheap bastards. Not that I would go, but really, having a party for the Holidays and not allowing you to bring your husband or wife, what are they thinking? Plus they don't celebrate with any alcohol. This of course does not stop the "flask brigade," which I would call them, but letting a designated driver in might be a lessening of a liability risk in a public place such as Crown Point, where they generally throw these events.
I was thinking about the year this morning while I was reclining tastefully in bed, naked as the day I was born, and I came upon the conclusion that the only thing I have not been afflicted this year is a case of rampant maturity. Pity there, it would be the one ailment that I could actually use. Sorry about the naked part, but I'm going to take it on reliable sources that this is how babies come out. I just haven't grown out of it yet. I figure there is not much left for me illness or injury wise this year. Cross my fingers, there are still what, eight days left. Think I'll be extra cautious. No telling when wild hedgehogs and wombats will attack you when you shower. Maybe I should close the door... Nah.
Alan is finishing up his semester teaching the unwashed and idiot masses at SDSU, and is really having a time of it this year. Some enterprising young gentleman stole one of his final exams, and Alan tried to chase him down the hall yelling "thief." I wish I had been there for that. Campus security got involved and I guess it was quite a scene. I make it sound funnier that it is, as Alan had three hours to re-do the exam before his next class, and that must have been a chore. Sometimes, when Alan and I go up to Laughlin, or some other hotelier place to get away, I get to read some of the essays that his students turn in. I don't know how he can even grade them. I know, I'm not the brightest bulb in the socket, but seriously, these kids are having an education, and an expensive one no less, paid for them and I wouldn't give a single one of them a job as a parking lot valet.
Well, in case I don't post more. Merry to all from the ether.
Terri works for a company which is owned and operated by a Jewish family (and yes, nepotism runs about like clear stream water over soft polished stones of an igneous variety), but they do have to let the kids off for Christmas. I could relay stories... Ter got out of the mandatory appearance at the "Holiday" party this year, using my illness as an excuse. I think that worked out for everyone. You understand that the "Holiday" party is restricted only to actual employees, no husbands, wives, or families. Cheap bastards. Not that I would go, but really, having a party for the Holidays and not allowing you to bring your husband or wife, what are they thinking? Plus they don't celebrate with any alcohol. This of course does not stop the "flask brigade," which I would call them, but letting a designated driver in might be a lessening of a liability risk in a public place such as Crown Point, where they generally throw these events.
I was thinking about the year this morning while I was reclining tastefully in bed, naked as the day I was born, and I came upon the conclusion that the only thing I have not been afflicted this year is a case of rampant maturity. Pity there, it would be the one ailment that I could actually use. Sorry about the naked part, but I'm going to take it on reliable sources that this is how babies come out. I just haven't grown out of it yet. I figure there is not much left for me illness or injury wise this year. Cross my fingers, there are still what, eight days left. Think I'll be extra cautious. No telling when wild hedgehogs and wombats will attack you when you shower. Maybe I should close the door... Nah.
Alan is finishing up his semester teaching the unwashed and idiot masses at SDSU, and is really having a time of it this year. Some enterprising young gentleman stole one of his final exams, and Alan tried to chase him down the hall yelling "thief." I wish I had been there for that. Campus security got involved and I guess it was quite a scene. I make it sound funnier that it is, as Alan had three hours to re-do the exam before his next class, and that must have been a chore. Sometimes, when Alan and I go up to Laughlin, or some other hotelier place to get away, I get to read some of the essays that his students turn in. I don't know how he can even grade them. I know, I'm not the brightest bulb in the socket, but seriously, these kids are having an education, and an expensive one no less, paid for them and I wouldn't give a single one of them a job as a parking lot valet.
Well, in case I don't post more. Merry to all from the ether.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Failed again
Trash day is tuesday here, and I have always made the cut. Blew it today. Doesn't pay to take the trash out at 4:30 or so when I get up, racoons and other beasties about the neighborhood, even coyotes, will rip up the bags and scatter trash everywhere. So, as normal and customary, I go back to bed until sun-up, when the coast is clear. Did the going back to bed thing a bit too well. Now I will have to carry the bags to the dumpsters myself. Which entails putting on pants and everything. The neighbors could scare easily if I did not.
I used to leave the sliding glass door open a bit for the kids. Blocked at about six inches so only very small criminals could get in, but I got a huge surprise at about 3:00 one morning. The local racoon population, who are nothing if not crafty, opened the screen door and helped themself into the kitchen, where the cats have their huge crunchy bowl. When I heard unfamiliar noises, I went to investigate. My cats, fearless lions that are, were nowhere in sight, but the four racoons who were eating their food and trailing themselves through the water bowl, were quite apparent, and making a real mess. You have some choices in life. When you're naked and there are wild animals in your kitchen, you have to think clearly. They have claws and teeth. True, so do I, and I outweigh them considerably, but I though it best to invite them to leave in a cordial manner. I would have just picked them up, but really, the claws and teeth thing. You don't know. They still come around the patio in the evening, and I should not, but I do, put food out for them. Really, they're just adorable until you have to mop up after them. When we lived next to Balboa Park in San Diego, I put out food for the stray cats and often found my front porch full of oppossums. They too are adorable, from a distance. It's that teeth and claw thing again.
Where was I going here? Oh yes, I was bemoaning the fact that I have to face up to my shame in not getting the trash out on time. Terri will be especially pissed, as she reminded me when she went to work this morning that the fridge needed to be cleaned out of bad, or soon to be bad, leftovers. Probably comes from growing up poor white trash, but I save leftovers, even though I don't eat much anymore. They start to pile up, and the entire tupperware family becomes invovled. So, I will man-up and put on pants and a shirt, and take my bags to the dumpster. I shouldn't have to when you think of it, my neighbors have all seen me covered in only a sheet on a gurney, but I still think I have enough good stuff to cover.
Yours in the ether.
I used to leave the sliding glass door open a bit for the kids. Blocked at about six inches so only very small criminals could get in, but I got a huge surprise at about 3:00 one morning. The local racoon population, who are nothing if not crafty, opened the screen door and helped themself into the kitchen, where the cats have their huge crunchy bowl. When I heard unfamiliar noises, I went to investigate. My cats, fearless lions that are, were nowhere in sight, but the four racoons who were eating their food and trailing themselves through the water bowl, were quite apparent, and making a real mess. You have some choices in life. When you're naked and there are wild animals in your kitchen, you have to think clearly. They have claws and teeth. True, so do I, and I outweigh them considerably, but I though it best to invite them to leave in a cordial manner. I would have just picked them up, but really, the claws and teeth thing. You don't know. They still come around the patio in the evening, and I should not, but I do, put food out for them. Really, they're just adorable until you have to mop up after them. When we lived next to Balboa Park in San Diego, I put out food for the stray cats and often found my front porch full of oppossums. They too are adorable, from a distance. It's that teeth and claw thing again.
Where was I going here? Oh yes, I was bemoaning the fact that I have to face up to my shame in not getting the trash out on time. Terri will be especially pissed, as she reminded me when she went to work this morning that the fridge needed to be cleaned out of bad, or soon to be bad, leftovers. Probably comes from growing up poor white trash, but I save leftovers, even though I don't eat much anymore. They start to pile up, and the entire tupperware family becomes invovled. So, I will man-up and put on pants and a shirt, and take my bags to the dumpster. I shouldn't have to when you think of it, my neighbors have all seen me covered in only a sheet on a gurney, but I still think I have enough good stuff to cover.
Yours in the ether.
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Another day
Started out easily enough. The guys at the liquor store were playing with my head--Sorry the card's been declined--I was sufficiently mortified. Card was fine, and we all had a good laugh (Well, at least they did). Just a tip here, Arabs are mean. Sorry on that one, I love these guys, and they have every reason to love me.
Had to take another shower to go to the store with Ter. I have mentioned that showering is a bugger thing with me. Full tile enclosure and glass doors, and my seemingly incontrovertable skill of falling down. You get the picture. To the paramedics who took me out last time, Cindy, Chuck, Mike and Eric, my hat's off to you. When a person of my size goes down, there is a large thud.
Went to Albertson's. Always a treat when you can barely walk. I rely on the shopping carts to keep me upright. Went through the checkout line with the store manager, Angie, whom I know from years of patronage. She worries about me. A kindness that I rareliy experience. We got food for us and the cats, and some treats. Got petrol also, Terri does have to work with a commute of 23 miles each way. I love to pump gas, so it all works out.
Yours in the ether.
Had to take another shower to go to the store with Ter. I have mentioned that showering is a bugger thing with me. Full tile enclosure and glass doors, and my seemingly incontrovertable skill of falling down. You get the picture. To the paramedics who took me out last time, Cindy, Chuck, Mike and Eric, my hat's off to you. When a person of my size goes down, there is a large thud.
Went to Albertson's. Always a treat when you can barely walk. I rely on the shopping carts to keep me upright. Went through the checkout line with the store manager, Angie, whom I know from years of patronage. She worries about me. A kindness that I rareliy experience. We got food for us and the cats, and some treats. Got petrol also, Terri does have to work with a commute of 23 miles each way. I love to pump gas, so it all works out.
Yours in the ether.
Saturday, December 19, 2009
A busy day
I have some trouble with activity, after the surguries earlier this year, and the general lack of the capacity to breathe, going out for errands on the weekend is problematic. I did however, today, go to Lowe's, Staples, and Fry's. I was a near mess when I got home, particularly since I was driving (the VW Van needs to run every other day or so) and that takes all my shifty skills. It was time to feed the kids when we got home, and that always is a pleasure. In all honesty, I am sitting down at the sofa with a vodka and tonic to gather my strength to clean the litter boxes. You wouldn't think the loss of one lung would be so frustrating in your physical day to day life, but it really is. Seriously. I never wear a seat belt when I drive, it's kind of a "well I would welcome death," or "that is the least of the infractions I am commiting right now," type of thing. But it drives Terri to distraction. I do the mamly thing, and ignore her when she comments on this, thinking instead of large barbeque grills and power tools.
I'm following some new people on Twitter. Who knew Jane Fonda and Dolly Parton could be so funny? Oddly enough, Dolly and I follow the same people. Guess the steroid induced man boobs finally paid off. Her "Come any closer to this chest and you'll get your Christmas Punch early" really cracked me up. A stretched out T-shirt from her fetched $34,000 for charity. Really would have loved to be at that auction, even if it did entail a trip to Memphis.
Yours in the ether.
I'm following some new people on Twitter. Who knew Jane Fonda and Dolly Parton could be so funny? Oddly enough, Dolly and I follow the same people. Guess the steroid induced man boobs finally paid off. Her "Come any closer to this chest and you'll get your Christmas Punch early" really cracked me up. A stretched out T-shirt from her fetched $34,000 for charity. Really would have loved to be at that auction, even if it did entail a trip to Memphis.
Yours in the ether.
Friday, December 18, 2009
Got some sleep last night
Hardly sounds noteworthy when you spell it out, but it is an occasion for me. Normally my bed is used only as a convenient library facility, and my only down time is a nap here or there on the sofa. Last night I turned out the lights, and without benefit of a book of any kind, did some serious eye closing. Did some heavy surreal dreaming also, which is a welcome change as my dreams tend more toward the horrifying and macabre usually. A word of warning to all, I do talk in my sleep, scream in my sleep, jump, twitch and grab knives and other sharp objects and do other inappropriate actions which generally makes sleeping with me an iffy proposition at best. The cats are o.k. with it, they move pretty quickly and have yet to come to harm. Ex-lovers will probably be happy to share stories with you if asked, however. People can be so petty, even if you pay the emergency room bills.
It looks like it's going to be in the mid 70's here again today. I may attempt to take a shower and go out of doors for a bit of a drive-about. One nice thing about living in a somewhat closed community is that you can drive around for an hour or so and never hit a public street. Much safer, particularly when you have no valid driver license. You don't have to wear safety belts either. With the golf courses here (three) there are frequently golf carts on the streets, and I figure if they don't have to wear the damn things, neither should I. There is no actual police presence up here to hassle me for taking a drive, but there are security patrols for safety, and of course, this being a retirement community, locally known as "God's waiting room," there are the daily EMT visits. You catch them up here like you would cabs in New York City. Just stand on the curb and wave your arm. I can speak from experience that if you pass out and fall down in your kitchen, striking your little head smartly on the counter and then the tile floor, emergency services arrive in under five minutes. This is as good a reason for taking a shower every day that I can think of. Unless of course you pass out while you're in the shower, and that has happened to me also. Double trouble. Not only embarrassment, but em-bare-ass-ment. Good thing I have little or no personal body modesty to speak of.
Saw something this morning which cracked me up. There is a web site entitled "I've slept with Tiger Woods also." As of this morning, it has 171,000 subscribers.
Yours in the ether.
It looks like it's going to be in the mid 70's here again today. I may attempt to take a shower and go out of doors for a bit of a drive-about. One nice thing about living in a somewhat closed community is that you can drive around for an hour or so and never hit a public street. Much safer, particularly when you have no valid driver license. You don't have to wear safety belts either. With the golf courses here (three) there are frequently golf carts on the streets, and I figure if they don't have to wear the damn things, neither should I. There is no actual police presence up here to hassle me for taking a drive, but there are security patrols for safety, and of course, this being a retirement community, locally known as "God's waiting room," there are the daily EMT visits. You catch them up here like you would cabs in New York City. Just stand on the curb and wave your arm. I can speak from experience that if you pass out and fall down in your kitchen, striking your little head smartly on the counter and then the tile floor, emergency services arrive in under five minutes. This is as good a reason for taking a shower every day that I can think of. Unless of course you pass out while you're in the shower, and that has happened to me also. Double trouble. Not only embarrassment, but em-bare-ass-ment. Good thing I have little or no personal body modesty to speak of.
Saw something this morning which cracked me up. There is a web site entitled "I've slept with Tiger Woods also." As of this morning, it has 171,000 subscribers.
Yours in the ether.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
I am known and loved
No, not by anyone who will live with me or hire me, pay me, or Goddess forbid, have sex with me. I am however loved and apreciated by my local liqour store. By the time I get out of the car, my order is already on the counter waiting for me. When I was really doing down-time and couldn't leave the house whatsoever, Terri had to go to the store for me. Turns out all she had to do was identify herself as my wife, and the heavens opened up for her. This is probably not something of which to aspire, but it is conveneient.
It's about time to feed the kids. They are getting restless. Sometimes, and I don't feel good about myself for this, I will get up and head toward the kitchen, but go to the bathroom or my bedroom instead. Drives them crazy. Worse on the bathroom front. My kids do not believe in privacy, so if you shut the door, they will scratch the paint off the door, or in the case of the big boy, hurtle his body against it in a very Chuck Norris way. Nothing to help your weak bladder stream like thuds against the door a foot away from where you're trying to do your business. Opps, now I have to go the bathroom. Hold a moment-panamonium will ensue.
O.K. kids fed. Savory chicken and tuna in sauce. Everybody eats in the kitchen but Princess Tatiana. She is the first cat who truly understood and embraced the concept of room service that I have ever had. Tatiana will eat on Terri's bed, or not at all. Even her sister, Anastasia, is nowhere near as precious as she is when it comes to feeding time. I have mentioned in previous posts that we are not getting any more four legged kids, but if one comes across us (and believe me, they find you, not the opposite), I will name no other kids after the Romanov's. Cats already have a healthy sense of entitlement, naming them after royalty is like salting a salt lick.
I'm kind of kicking back and listening to Allanis Morrisette while I type this, and bemoaning the fact that I no longer have long hair to toss dramatically while you porture along with your favorite songs. If you can listen to "Sister Blister," and not toss your head, I will officially pronounce you dead. Of course, I have almost no hair at all now, but I am letting the old man hairs that grow in your ears mature so I can braid them in a strange and truly disturbing soul patch. Just kidding there.
Yours in the ether.
It's about time to feed the kids. They are getting restless. Sometimes, and I don't feel good about myself for this, I will get up and head toward the kitchen, but go to the bathroom or my bedroom instead. Drives them crazy. Worse on the bathroom front. My kids do not believe in privacy, so if you shut the door, they will scratch the paint off the door, or in the case of the big boy, hurtle his body against it in a very Chuck Norris way. Nothing to help your weak bladder stream like thuds against the door a foot away from where you're trying to do your business. Opps, now I have to go the bathroom. Hold a moment-panamonium will ensue.
O.K. kids fed. Savory chicken and tuna in sauce. Everybody eats in the kitchen but Princess Tatiana. She is the first cat who truly understood and embraced the concept of room service that I have ever had. Tatiana will eat on Terri's bed, or not at all. Even her sister, Anastasia, is nowhere near as precious as she is when it comes to feeding time. I have mentioned in previous posts that we are not getting any more four legged kids, but if one comes across us (and believe me, they find you, not the opposite), I will name no other kids after the Romanov's. Cats already have a healthy sense of entitlement, naming them after royalty is like salting a salt lick.
I'm kind of kicking back and listening to Allanis Morrisette while I type this, and bemoaning the fact that I no longer have long hair to toss dramatically while you porture along with your favorite songs. If you can listen to "Sister Blister," and not toss your head, I will officially pronounce you dead. Of course, I have almost no hair at all now, but I am letting the old man hairs that grow in your ears mature so I can braid them in a strange and truly disturbing soul patch. Just kidding there.
Yours in the ether.
Have to leave the house, Seriously
This happens. Take a nap and when you get up you realize that you have four cigarettes left in the house, and that ain't gonna cut it. I know, I only have one lung left, and that is being strained by the flu at the moment, but that does not stop the panic a real addict feels. Truth be told, I'm about out of vodka also, so I have even more reasons to leave the residence. I'll try and successfully eat a peanut butter brownie square for energy and get dressed. That way (the getting dressed part) I will look less manacing in my arrest photos. Hey; when good looking men like Mel Gibson come across like something only a B Movie could use to scare you, there is little hope for someone like me.
I'm still planning on a photo journey the first week of January. Bubba has caught on and is making his plans known also. He's got his bag pretty much packed and some books laid out. It will be up to me to bring a litter box, they never think of it.
Talked to my friend (dare I say good friend) Ryn last night for an hour or two. Hope she had a good birthday. It's fun in a way talking to her. I haven't lived up in Idaho for thirty years or so, but I seem to know more people up there than I do here. Go figure. I should truly try and get up there soon, but am at the moment, relying on the kindness of strangers in a truly Scarlett O'Hara mode. If nobody drives my sorry butt up that way, I won't get there.
Yours, almost out of nicotine, and in the ether.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Just a quikee
Finally got Ter off to work. Sadly, too late and too sunny and beautiful here to climb back under the covers and hide from the day. When one of my half-brothers was living in Ireland we would send him pictures of us celebrating Christmas day outside in our T-shirts and shorts. Truth be told, I think that was Mom's doing to punish him for leaving the nest. Today is Ryndy William's Day, otherwise known as December 16th, and it is already pushing 70 degrees. I'm recording (I used to say video-tapeing, but then DVD killed the radio stars) a Moonlight marathon on the SyFy network. Carefully, and with an eye on the upcoming nuclear winter and other catastrophies, I have been recording whole series to watch when network TV goes the way of print media. Sadly, and you can see the flaw in this plan comming a mile away, by the time the apocalypse hits, I will have no electricity to run my toys. Maybe I should invest in large hampster wheels and a breeding population. Goddess know the cats would be useless for generating any electricity other than a static charge. Of course, you can rub fair skinned teen-aged blondes together for the same effect, but I believe there are laws against that.
Today's new challenge. Use the hair trimmer/clipper/home-barbershop tool to do some trimming, clogging the sink, and then cleaning same. My beard trimmer went the way of the Edsel recently, so I have to use the huge trimmer on my face and neck, which can on occasion produce hilarious results. If you see pictures of me without a beard, this is why. I still have the smooth skin of a baby's butt; however, without the beard, my face actually looks like a baby's butt. It's a lose-lose scenario, and also shows off all the surgical cars under my chin. The picture I used for this blog was after such an occurence, and that, along with the un-flattering camera angle which makes me look like one of those blow up toys you can punch and it springs back, makes me think I should do an update. What do you think? Funny picture or snappy picture? I am nothing if not open to suggestion. Perhaps I should just post a picture of one of the cats.
Yours from the ether.
Today's new challenge. Use the hair trimmer/clipper/home-barbershop tool to do some trimming, clogging the sink, and then cleaning same. My beard trimmer went the way of the Edsel recently, so I have to use the huge trimmer on my face and neck, which can on occasion produce hilarious results. If you see pictures of me without a beard, this is why. I still have the smooth skin of a baby's butt; however, without the beard, my face actually looks like a baby's butt. It's a lose-lose scenario, and also shows off all the surgical cars under my chin. The picture I used for this blog was after such an occurence, and that, along with the un-flattering camera angle which makes me look like one of those blow up toys you can punch and it springs back, makes me think I should do an update. What do you think? Funny picture or snappy picture? I am nothing if not open to suggestion. Perhaps I should just post a picture of one of the cats.
Yours from the ether.
Commissioned Supermarket checkers?
Went to Albertson's with Ter and remembered to ask her if we needed stamps at the check out. Normally I forget this and when we're unloading the groceries, Ter will inevitably shout "Damn it, I forget to get stamps." This time we didn't need any but the checker had already rung them up. I said no thank you, I was just asking if we needed them. Should have been over then. Wasn't. "You may as well go ahead and get them, what with Christmas and all" from the checker. My reply: "We don't send out cards, don't celebrate Christmas, and can't afford to pay anyone to like us." This went back and forth for a bit, and the manager had to be called over to delete the sale item. We did get out of the store without buying stamps, but it got me to thinking "What if checkers worked on commission?" What a horror story that would be. Think about it for a minute. Naturally, after we got home, Terri realized we only had three stamps left.
Speaking of Holidays. It is the inevitable time of year when out-of-state relations send gift baskets of strange things. Terri's relations, not mine. My own would not send me spit if I was on fire, but I digress. Got a new one this year. Kind of a Russian Doll type of stacked boxes going up in size tied with a huge-ass ribbon. We'll probably get more use out of the decorative boxes than the items enclosed therein, but it's the same with the gift baskets: the cats love them. Put a towel in the bottom, and you've got picture taking opportunities for the life of your cat. Then, every spring, clean out your fridge of the thousand year old bricklike salami and stinky cheeses. Terri's mom, and my adopted mom, Ollie, sends us Honey Baked Ham meals for Thanksgiving and Christmas which she really can't afford to do, but they are indeed welcome and useful. Ham being such a great "keeper," you get sandwiches, chef salads, Denver omlettes, and quiches from the left-overs. Speaking of Ollie, we have a mutual, unspoken forgiveness pact. She forgives me for going to hell, and I forgive her for blaming President Obama for everything wrong (including rain, dust, global warming, poor cell phone reception, incontinence, traffic accidents, and any injury or illness even if self-inflicted and of course, the depression of 1928-30 and the Spanish Inquisition). Al Gore would be very displeased to learn that she also blames Obama for the internet. I have learned to quickly turn the phone over to Terri when I feel and "Obama-thon" coming on. Don't get her started on Nancy Pellosi either. She got blamed when I was having trouble getting an appointment with my pulmonary surgeon.
Change-up here. You know those magnets somebody came up with that you stick on your dishwasher that show clean or dirty? I need to come up with a similar concept for Terri to semiphore the fact that I will not have to get up at 4:00 a.m. to start coffee and make lunch. The lunch will stay in the fridge o.k., but if she's going to sleep in until 8 or 9, the coffee has to be cut with a chainsaw, and I will not be able to sneak back into my warm bed until she is safely away. That's it for now.
Yours in ether.
Speaking of Holidays. It is the inevitable time of year when out-of-state relations send gift baskets of strange things. Terri's relations, not mine. My own would not send me spit if I was on fire, but I digress. Got a new one this year. Kind of a Russian Doll type of stacked boxes going up in size tied with a huge-ass ribbon. We'll probably get more use out of the decorative boxes than the items enclosed therein, but it's the same with the gift baskets: the cats love them. Put a towel in the bottom, and you've got picture taking opportunities for the life of your cat. Then, every spring, clean out your fridge of the thousand year old bricklike salami and stinky cheeses. Terri's mom, and my adopted mom, Ollie, sends us Honey Baked Ham meals for Thanksgiving and Christmas which she really can't afford to do, but they are indeed welcome and useful. Ham being such a great "keeper," you get sandwiches, chef salads, Denver omlettes, and quiches from the left-overs. Speaking of Ollie, we have a mutual, unspoken forgiveness pact. She forgives me for going to hell, and I forgive her for blaming President Obama for everything wrong (including rain, dust, global warming, poor cell phone reception, incontinence, traffic accidents, and any injury or illness even if self-inflicted and of course, the depression of 1928-30 and the Spanish Inquisition). Al Gore would be very displeased to learn that she also blames Obama for the internet. I have learned to quickly turn the phone over to Terri when I feel and "Obama-thon" coming on. Don't get her started on Nancy Pellosi either. She got blamed when I was having trouble getting an appointment with my pulmonary surgeon.
Change-up here. You know those magnets somebody came up with that you stick on your dishwasher that show clean or dirty? I need to come up with a similar concept for Terri to semiphore the fact that I will not have to get up at 4:00 a.m. to start coffee and make lunch. The lunch will stay in the fridge o.k., but if she's going to sleep in until 8 or 9, the coffee has to be cut with a chainsaw, and I will not be able to sneak back into my warm bed until she is safely away. That's it for now.
Yours in ether.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
A new day
O.K. so my last post was around four this morning when I fed the kids. it's about 10:30 now, since I took the time for a bit of a lay-down. I know lay-down is not a proper term, but I refuse to use lie down because it sounds derogatory somehow. Got semi-awake and checked my e-mails (love to all), and am having my daily coming back to earth party of some coffee and cigarettes. I know, cigarettes are bad. They are however convenient (though expensive recently) and give you an actual honest-to-god excuse to continue breathing. I may have stopped smoking more times than I have started. If you think about it, it does make sense. The coffee I have to do anyway; along with feeding the cats, I have to prepare a lunch and get the bread-winner off to work every morning. That done, it's "Calgon, take me away" for awhile. Today it was about three hours. That's a good down-time for me, I generally nod off for about an hour at a time.
That being said, I'll go back to the "v" words. It is clear, or soon will be, that I have a strong respect, nigh on fear, of women, and the "v" is evident, if not unspoken there. Us guys have our "v" words too though. I had a vasectomy when I was in my 20's. Not really a birth control issue as much as a "my family and genetic heritage is so f**cked up that I could never bring another into this world," type of thing. To do that, and I'll probably misspell this, they cut your vas differens. That is NOT in Webster's, by the way, hence my fear of spelling. I write short stories, even publish a few, but find that when I am not sure of the spelling of a word I would regularly use in speech, will substitute for something of which I am sure. I've had vascular issues and angioplasty, and a rash of other things which also contain the letter "v" but you get my drift. That being said, I'll get off that subject for the moment; wouldn't want to be vituperative, would I?
I should get moving. Got to take the VW Van for petrol, and I'll probably vacuum the inside at the car wash and check the tires. See how the letter is insidious? If my rounds of actitity bring something of which to speak or of note, I'll post more.
Yours in ether.
That being said, I'll go back to the "v" words. It is clear, or soon will be, that I have a strong respect, nigh on fear, of women, and the "v" is evident, if not unspoken there. Us guys have our "v" words too though. I had a vasectomy when I was in my 20's. Not really a birth control issue as much as a "my family and genetic heritage is so f**cked up that I could never bring another into this world," type of thing. To do that, and I'll probably misspell this, they cut your vas differens. That is NOT in Webster's, by the way, hence my fear of spelling. I write short stories, even publish a few, but find that when I am not sure of the spelling of a word I would regularly use in speech, will substitute for something of which I am sure. I've had vascular issues and angioplasty, and a rash of other things which also contain the letter "v" but you get my drift. That being said, I'll get off that subject for the moment; wouldn't want to be vituperative, would I?
I should get moving. Got to take the VW Van for petrol, and I'll probably vacuum the inside at the car wash and check the tires. See how the letter is insidious? If my rounds of actitity bring something of which to speak or of note, I'll post more.
Yours in ether.
How exciting!
Even though, myself, challenged by the new blogsphere experience, can hardly find my own posts, I have been honored to receive a comment or two. To "blab," you are kind, verbose, showing verve and verisimilitude. Hey, I started with the "v" thing. My bad, but I'll have to stick with it now. Your comments show me you are the master and I the paduan. I tip the cap which covers my male pattern baldness to you. I am not a real geek, I've just had a lot of time on my hands, read everything that doesn't move faster than I, and watch a lot of video. Well, maybe I am a geek. Are there T-Shirts for this? Do I have to check a box on my passport? Something on the driver license, like corrective lenses?
it's about 4:00 a.m. here. Which means that the kids are being very attentive. Just in case you didn't notice they want to be fed, they will lie on your keyboard, bite you, and knock over furniture (honestly, I have big cats). Hold a moment--silly, this is cyberspace, right? I will shovel some food in bowels (yes, I meant that one--see litter boxes) and be back. O.K. the ravening beasts are fed. Why is that the armed forces cause poor unfortunates to go through six months of boot camp when a week with my cats will train utter submission? Maybe I could do a Blackwater thing and hire the kids out as civilan consultants. protect an embassy? My kids would OWN the embassy and use it as a staging ground for a coup. They might smell each other's butt's; however, they would never use them as shooters. I might, and probably have, just don't remember.
Yours in either.
it's about 4:00 a.m. here. Which means that the kids are being very attentive. Just in case you didn't notice they want to be fed, they will lie on your keyboard, bite you, and knock over furniture (honestly, I have big cats). Hold a moment--silly, this is cyberspace, right? I will shovel some food in bowels (yes, I meant that one--see litter boxes) and be back. O.K. the ravening beasts are fed. Why is that the armed forces cause poor unfortunates to go through six months of boot camp when a week with my cats will train utter submission? Maybe I could do a Blackwater thing and hire the kids out as civilan consultants. protect an embassy? My kids would OWN the embassy and use it as a staging ground for a coup. They might smell each other's butt's; however, they would never use them as shooters. I might, and probably have, just don't remember.
Yours in either.
Just some thoughts
Hey: The wages you earn are spent before you make them, but the wages of sin will stay with you forever. There. I've said it, and I will stick by it. Am I working up to a point here? No not really, just an observation. I may flatter myself that I am a "bad boy," but in reality, I'm just a sweetie who trys to be a nice guy and works on a persona which makes me tougher than I truly am.
Some people I admire: Wanda Sykes. Big brass ones, really. Had the courage to take on Fox News for having no anchors of color in a hysterically funny piece of "Negro Newsreels," when her show is on the Fox network. Willing to sh*t where she eats to get a point across. I am re-writing my last will and testament to include her. A number of fine folks have signed on to be organ donors in the case of their demise, but my organs are so unlikely to match anything resembling a human's, or are so ravaged by time and misuse, that I can donate maybe my ear lobes, nipples, ring fingers, wrists, and a few toes which have not been broken. But for Wanda, and if she's listening, this is a contract, my testicles are yours when I pass. Not that you need them, but it never hurts to have a back up plan. I can't well leave her my penis, she'd have no use for that (but then again, I haven't either for about fifteen years).
More on that: Rachel Maddow. Could there be another like her? Don't think so. Catch her on Late Night with Jimmy Fallon, and she is a hysterical bartender who is like the big sister you always wished you'd grown up with. Catch her on an interview with a piece of work on her show on MSNBC and she is the avenging angel of war. So smart, well spoken, erudite and informed that she is a literal force of nature. No fear, no mistakes, no prisoners. Any topic, any controversy, any anything. Debate her and die. To her, I leave my tongue and my voice. Again, not that she'd need it, but I want the full force and fury I am capable of at her disposal. There are few people I would trust with such weapons of mass destruction--she is one of them.
Not being sexist, I will also say that Wil Wheaton is a writer of such talent that his blog is dessert to read. I fancied myself as a "whiz kid" when I was young, but failed to find a potential. He didn't, and gets better every time I read him. Kudos dude. Can't really leave you anything you don't already have, but I can leave my copies of your books to others so they can appreciate you also.
Whoops. This seems to be taking on a suicidal note here. Sorry, not intentional, and not about to happen. You have no need to end your life when your life is ending for you without any self-help. Just a tribute to people I admire as I see them from day to day and from their "tweets." If you're not on twitter, and I was not until recently, find someone you admire, and then see who they admire, and you will find a new prospective on life in general. Not always good, but thought provoking and worthwhile to read. Sure, there are a lot of tweets such as: Am at airport, pretzels were too salty, plane delayed; that type of thing, but you also get real gems and slices of life. It's worth the chaff to get the grain to make your own loaf of bread. I e-mailed some friends yesterday about Alyssa Millano's constructive use of twitter to advance her charity cause of clean water in less fortunate nations in honor of her birthday on Dec. 19th, on which date she will turn the ripe age of 37. At the time I wrote my friends, she had raised over 54K for her cause. I was impressed and awed. Checking back later, over 60K and counting. I sent her a "tweet" myself, which I will probably regret. You've all seen Alyssa. I mentioned that 37 was fitting. It's a prime number, and so is she. I know, turn in my politically correct card now, but I really meant that in a good way. I can't help being a guy. Come on.. she's smart, beautiful, caring, loving, kind, and well, hot.
Oh. have another 'v' word to discuss. This one came from Dane Cook. I know a lot of people are polarized by him. Seems to me though that most of the bad posts about him are from men however. I have a theory on this. A stand-up comic who is good looking enough to be in movies as a love interest (come on, count them on your fingers and you'll still be able to peel a potato with the remainders) is a potential threat. He is irreverently funny, and with maniacal glee. I think he may be a bigger hit with women because truth be told, after a bit of manic rough and tumble, he strikes me as a guy who will still be awake and stimulating after he has paid attention the environment after capping his emissions. At any rate, he was talking about that poor, unfortunate woman who just delivered her 19th baby, and likened her vagina to the "Stargate" franchise from science fiction. I won't go into it--if you don't know why that's funny, I could spend a week writing about why it is, and if you have to explain a joke, it's not only not funny anymore, you just get pissed off when no one catches your reference. It's true, isn't it? When you drop a witty bon mot, and some moron doesn't have the native intelligence to pretend they understand your joke and asks you to explain yourself, it just makes you want to wrap their remains in a shower curtain and place them in a cement foundation of your gazebo. Bonus points for anyone who got that one. For the all expenses paid trip to Brazil, name the stars.
Back on more "v" words. I know I've mentioned vicodin. I have a huge stock of this which I don't use as much as I probably should, because I do have enough little gray cells left to know not to mix it with the other "v" word (vodka), but I do keep it on hand. Lately, I have been passing pills out to people in need but is has occurred to me that as an unemployed man with no visible means of support, I should be selling them in the nastier sections of town. I'm supposed to be taking one every four hours, so I get a huge bottle every month. I take, in reality, about three a month and only when it really get's bad, so you can see how I can readily stockpile. Do the math. Even at two bucks a pop, I could help out more around the house expenses-wise, at least until the bail bondsman fees come in.
Well, still in the ether, and probably going straight to hell, as usual. Love to all.
Some people I admire: Wanda Sykes. Big brass ones, really. Had the courage to take on Fox News for having no anchors of color in a hysterically funny piece of "Negro Newsreels," when her show is on the Fox network. Willing to sh*t where she eats to get a point across. I am re-writing my last will and testament to include her. A number of fine folks have signed on to be organ donors in the case of their demise, but my organs are so unlikely to match anything resembling a human's, or are so ravaged by time and misuse, that I can donate maybe my ear lobes, nipples, ring fingers, wrists, and a few toes which have not been broken. But for Wanda, and if she's listening, this is a contract, my testicles are yours when I pass. Not that you need them, but it never hurts to have a back up plan. I can't well leave her my penis, she'd have no use for that (but then again, I haven't either for about fifteen years).
More on that: Rachel Maddow. Could there be another like her? Don't think so. Catch her on Late Night with Jimmy Fallon, and she is a hysterical bartender who is like the big sister you always wished you'd grown up with. Catch her on an interview with a piece of work on her show on MSNBC and she is the avenging angel of war. So smart, well spoken, erudite and informed that she is a literal force of nature. No fear, no mistakes, no prisoners. Any topic, any controversy, any anything. Debate her and die. To her, I leave my tongue and my voice. Again, not that she'd need it, but I want the full force and fury I am capable of at her disposal. There are few people I would trust with such weapons of mass destruction--she is one of them.
Not being sexist, I will also say that Wil Wheaton is a writer of such talent that his blog is dessert to read. I fancied myself as a "whiz kid" when I was young, but failed to find a potential. He didn't, and gets better every time I read him. Kudos dude. Can't really leave you anything you don't already have, but I can leave my copies of your books to others so they can appreciate you also.
Whoops. This seems to be taking on a suicidal note here. Sorry, not intentional, and not about to happen. You have no need to end your life when your life is ending for you without any self-help. Just a tribute to people I admire as I see them from day to day and from their "tweets." If you're not on twitter, and I was not until recently, find someone you admire, and then see who they admire, and you will find a new prospective on life in general. Not always good, but thought provoking and worthwhile to read. Sure, there are a lot of tweets such as: Am at airport, pretzels were too salty, plane delayed; that type of thing, but you also get real gems and slices of life. It's worth the chaff to get the grain to make your own loaf of bread. I e-mailed some friends yesterday about Alyssa Millano's constructive use of twitter to advance her charity cause of clean water in less fortunate nations in honor of her birthday on Dec. 19th, on which date she will turn the ripe age of 37. At the time I wrote my friends, she had raised over 54K for her cause. I was impressed and awed. Checking back later, over 60K and counting. I sent her a "tweet" myself, which I will probably regret. You've all seen Alyssa. I mentioned that 37 was fitting. It's a prime number, and so is she. I know, turn in my politically correct card now, but I really meant that in a good way. I can't help being a guy. Come on.. she's smart, beautiful, caring, loving, kind, and well, hot.
Oh. have another 'v' word to discuss. This one came from Dane Cook. I know a lot of people are polarized by him. Seems to me though that most of the bad posts about him are from men however. I have a theory on this. A stand-up comic who is good looking enough to be in movies as a love interest (come on, count them on your fingers and you'll still be able to peel a potato with the remainders) is a potential threat. He is irreverently funny, and with maniacal glee. I think he may be a bigger hit with women because truth be told, after a bit of manic rough and tumble, he strikes me as a guy who will still be awake and stimulating after he has paid attention the environment after capping his emissions. At any rate, he was talking about that poor, unfortunate woman who just delivered her 19th baby, and likened her vagina to the "Stargate" franchise from science fiction. I won't go into it--if you don't know why that's funny, I could spend a week writing about why it is, and if you have to explain a joke, it's not only not funny anymore, you just get pissed off when no one catches your reference. It's true, isn't it? When you drop a witty bon mot, and some moron doesn't have the native intelligence to pretend they understand your joke and asks you to explain yourself, it just makes you want to wrap their remains in a shower curtain and place them in a cement foundation of your gazebo. Bonus points for anyone who got that one. For the all expenses paid trip to Brazil, name the stars.
Back on more "v" words. I know I've mentioned vicodin. I have a huge stock of this which I don't use as much as I probably should, because I do have enough little gray cells left to know not to mix it with the other "v" word (vodka), but I do keep it on hand. Lately, I have been passing pills out to people in need but is has occurred to me that as an unemployed man with no visible means of support, I should be selling them in the nastier sections of town. I'm supposed to be taking one every four hours, so I get a huge bottle every month. I take, in reality, about three a month and only when it really get's bad, so you can see how I can readily stockpile. Do the math. Even at two bucks a pop, I could help out more around the house expenses-wise, at least until the bail bondsman fees come in.
Well, still in the ether, and probably going straight to hell, as usual. Love to all.
Monday, December 14, 2009
Now I've done it
Just sent out e-mails to valued friends/loved ones, to visit my blog, and even I can't find it, and I wrote the motherf**ker. Hope this won't come back and bite me on the, well you know. Anybody know how this stuff works?
Maybe it just takes time to post and be visible on the Web. Maybe I inadvertently sent it only to the Maldives, and it can only be read underwater. You don't know, you can't know. I think I'll give it a rest and get ready for an evening's meal which I probably can't eat but requires all manner of prep, and naturally, feeding my remaing children, who, even with the benefit of eating at the same times, in the same places, every day of their lives, still experience a Bush-esque "shock and awe" every time I go into the kitchen to feed them. I have, on more than one occasion, moved litter boxes when I've rearanged furniture and they always get right to it. Every morning at 4 a.m., they forget where they're supposed to be and scream and twine themselves about in an effort to foul up the process by tripping me and when I do finally get the food in the bowls, forget where they've eaten for all their lives, and act offended when I have to put them in front of their bowls when I get them on the floor. I am reminded why I was a poor waiter, but not a bad bartender.
Yours, lost in the either.
Maybe it just takes time to post and be visible on the Web. Maybe I inadvertently sent it only to the Maldives, and it can only be read underwater. You don't know, you can't know. I think I'll give it a rest and get ready for an evening's meal which I probably can't eat but requires all manner of prep, and naturally, feeding my remaing children, who, even with the benefit of eating at the same times, in the same places, every day of their lives, still experience a Bush-esque "shock and awe" every time I go into the kitchen to feed them. I have, on more than one occasion, moved litter boxes when I've rearanged furniture and they always get right to it. Every morning at 4 a.m., they forget where they're supposed to be and scream and twine themselves about in an effort to foul up the process by tripping me and when I do finally get the food in the bowls, forget where they've eaten for all their lives, and act offended when I have to put them in front of their bowls when I get them on the floor. I am reminded why I was a poor waiter, but not a bad bartender.
Yours, lost in the either.
First Post. Wish me luck.
People tend to send me e-mails which are forwards of other e-mails which they have received. I tend to send long e-mails of things which are actually going on in my life, some of which I find amusing and relevant, and in response, wait for it, I get a forward of cute cat pictures. Don't get me wrong. I am certifibly a "cat" person, having at one time 14, and now down to four due to age and attrition. People have questioned, given my past, why I have not been replacing the ones that have gone on to the litter box in the sky, but the simple reason is that my cats tend to live a long time. My oldest, in human years, is 25. In cat, that's like 182. I am afraid now that if I get another child, it will out-live me, which is a reasonable thought given my health, and have no home in which to be loved and cared for as they become as aged and infirmed as my sorry ass.
I digress. The point I started out for, and like any incompetent marksman, tend to miss, is that I believe if you are going to communicate with someone on a personal basis, either do it by phone, or take a safe route and spill your guts by e-mail so you don't have to hear the recipient's gasps and intakes of breath. Another plus, you can actually go the bathroom while you are communicating, and it is not considered rude. I'll just come out with it--if you have nothing to say other than to share what other people have already shared with you, why are you bothering to e-mail me at all? I have a theory that when Al Gore created the internet, there were fourteen people who got a "master race" status and everything since has been a forward of what they did as a system test and has been altered and basterdized ever since. Alright, YouTube adds new things, but really, anything ever come across in an e-mail which has challenged your though process or made you change your mind about an issue? My point. Please e-mail me. I love to hear from real people, who have real lives. Really. Had a shitty day at work and need to vent? That's a valid e-mail. Bad or embarrassing experience at a public place? That's a valid e-mail. Saw something on television which made your blood boil (Fox news doesn't count-too easy), that's valid.
To the virtue and vodka part. I applaud the concept of virtue. Strenuously. I live to be virtuous; just my idea of virtue may not be mainstream. I am a simple man. I just try and get day to day without hurting and offending anyone else, and if I see an opportunity for a random act of kindness, even to the point of admiring the jewelry of a supermarket checker or a simple smile to a stranger. Little things, like passing in front of a shopper at a bookstore and saying 'excuse me' when you pass in front of them. These are all things which makes life a little easier on us all. Other things too, of course, like resisting the urge to plow your car into another whose driver seems to have taken a graduate class in how to piss other dirvers off (and you know who they are), these are my concepts of virtue. I can't really claim to be a Christian, but some of the ideas of religion are valid, just like in the medical profession. First, do no harm. This is my idea of virtue. Not being a slut doesn't really count, most of the time, that's just lack of opportunity.
The vodka part. That's what I use to numb down all the pent-up rage that this lofty goal of life makes fester in your gullet like potato salad which has been out in the sun too long at a picnic. I read on HuffPost that Hugh Grant, not unlike myself, has made impulse purchases while drunk and his Warhol just netted him an 11 million profit. That's what I believe in. When I go grocery shopping, I will studiously check prices and value (that "v" word again), and be miserly. When I get back from a good weekend in Vegas (need I point out the spelling), I will cheerfully pay cash for cars, jewelery, and other luxury items, without a thought.
I had to have surgeries (is that a word you can plural?) earlier this year and have been having a hard time recuperating. This is partially the reason why I don't go outside much anymmore, although the major reason is still the one that Jenny Agutter voiced in the movie "Logan's Run" from the 70's. "I hate outside, I hate it." Outside equals dissapointment; inside equals home theater system, food and drink within reach, and bathrooms which do not require paper products which stick to your behind if you have to sit down. Hard to be shocked, appalled, or insulted when it's just you, and some cats who are frankly more interested in following you into the kitchen, just in case.
I have had a tenuous realtionship with Vodka since I was a wee one. I was a success story like many of the children who visited the Neverland Ranch, who was introduced to strong drink, among other things, at an early age. Sadly, the urge for said strong drink, along with any type of companionship, however inappropriate, sticks with one for the rest of your life. I'll have to save that one for another post.
If anyone reads this, Welcome. And if you agree with my musings, let me know where you are posting.
I digress. The point I started out for, and like any incompetent marksman, tend to miss, is that I believe if you are going to communicate with someone on a personal basis, either do it by phone, or take a safe route and spill your guts by e-mail so you don't have to hear the recipient's gasps and intakes of breath. Another plus, you can actually go the bathroom while you are communicating, and it is not considered rude. I'll just come out with it--if you have nothing to say other than to share what other people have already shared with you, why are you bothering to e-mail me at all? I have a theory that when Al Gore created the internet, there were fourteen people who got a "master race" status and everything since has been a forward of what they did as a system test and has been altered and basterdized ever since. Alright, YouTube adds new things, but really, anything ever come across in an e-mail which has challenged your though process or made you change your mind about an issue? My point. Please e-mail me. I love to hear from real people, who have real lives. Really. Had a shitty day at work and need to vent? That's a valid e-mail. Bad or embarrassing experience at a public place? That's a valid e-mail. Saw something on television which made your blood boil (Fox news doesn't count-too easy), that's valid.
To the virtue and vodka part. I applaud the concept of virtue. Strenuously. I live to be virtuous; just my idea of virtue may not be mainstream. I am a simple man. I just try and get day to day without hurting and offending anyone else, and if I see an opportunity for a random act of kindness, even to the point of admiring the jewelry of a supermarket checker or a simple smile to a stranger. Little things, like passing in front of a shopper at a bookstore and saying 'excuse me' when you pass in front of them. These are all things which makes life a little easier on us all. Other things too, of course, like resisting the urge to plow your car into another whose driver seems to have taken a graduate class in how to piss other dirvers off (and you know who they are), these are my concepts of virtue. I can't really claim to be a Christian, but some of the ideas of religion are valid, just like in the medical profession. First, do no harm. This is my idea of virtue. Not being a slut doesn't really count, most of the time, that's just lack of opportunity.
The vodka part. That's what I use to numb down all the pent-up rage that this lofty goal of life makes fester in your gullet like potato salad which has been out in the sun too long at a picnic. I read on HuffPost that Hugh Grant, not unlike myself, has made impulse purchases while drunk and his Warhol just netted him an 11 million profit. That's what I believe in. When I go grocery shopping, I will studiously check prices and value (that "v" word again), and be miserly. When I get back from a good weekend in Vegas (need I point out the spelling), I will cheerfully pay cash for cars, jewelery, and other luxury items, without a thought.
I had to have surgeries (is that a word you can plural?) earlier this year and have been having a hard time recuperating. This is partially the reason why I don't go outside much anymmore, although the major reason is still the one that Jenny Agutter voiced in the movie "Logan's Run" from the 70's. "I hate outside, I hate it." Outside equals dissapointment; inside equals home theater system, food and drink within reach, and bathrooms which do not require paper products which stick to your behind if you have to sit down. Hard to be shocked, appalled, or insulted when it's just you, and some cats who are frankly more interested in following you into the kitchen, just in case.
I have had a tenuous realtionship with Vodka since I was a wee one. I was a success story like many of the children who visited the Neverland Ranch, who was introduced to strong drink, among other things, at an early age. Sadly, the urge for said strong drink, along with any type of companionship, however inappropriate, sticks with one for the rest of your life. I'll have to save that one for another post.
If anyone reads this, Welcome. And if you agree with my musings, let me know where you are posting.
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