DUUUUUD NEWWWWWWW!!!

You can't stretch words out and have them make sense in text.

This is one of the major dilemmas I think that will affect us as a society as we continue to text and utilize social networking rather than actually communicate face to face, or even over the phone.

I have a phone with me at all times.  It drives me nuts.  I'm always getting texts and e-mails and game requests.  And when it rings, because someone actually has the nerve to call me on my phone, I often do not answer because, well, I just don't want to be bothered.

So, why do I keep my phone with me?

I've no freakin' clue.

Maybe it's the whole inner monologue of power and rejection?  You know, I fear being alone, so I keep my phone with me at all times hoping for someone to reach out to me just so I know I exist and I am thought of.  However, deep down inside I want the power to reject someone so that I feel more important to myself?

No... that can't be it.  I think I keep it with me for all of the pictures I have stored in it's memory.  So, I have my phone that I use to "talk" with people and share memories without really having to talk to them.  Makes perfect sense!

Aaaaand... back on point...

A friend of mine posted a link on their Facebook page about Jim Neighbors getting married.  That's great for him.  In fact, I think that's awesome for him, mainly because I honestly thought he was dead.  Getting married has got to be better than death... right?

So, in an attempt to be "cute" I commented "Well Golly" under her link.  Jim Neighbors played Gomer and one of Gomer's catch phrases was "Well Golly" except that he stretched it out and said more of a (phonetically spelled) "Gahhhhhhahhhhleeeee!"  So, that's what I was really going for, but you can't just type all of that phonetic nonsense.  So, instead, I stretched out the O and really posted "Well Goooooolly."

Now look at that; "Gooooooolly."  Sure, people understood what I was going for, but I basically typed a word that should be pronounce more closely to "goonie."

In fact, the person who commented after me tried her best to mimic Gomer's other catch phrase where he says "Surprise, surprise surprise" except that she avoided phonetic correctness and went with "suuuuuuuurprise, suuuuurprise suuuuuurprise" which just doesn't work for me.  Especially because I thought he enhanced the Prise part of the word more than the Surp.

But I digress.

Does this not annoy you as it does me?  I am victimized by my own attempt at humor.  I could go with the correct phonetic approach, but that would be visually unpleasing.  So I go with the more visually aesthetic variation closer to the original words design but I have created a different sounding word altogether.

Now, for some reason, the same problem does not apply to southern swear words.  You know, like "Dayum" and "Sheeyut!"  You can use the phonetic spellings to make your point and include the southern drawl but that's only because we do not want to spell out swear words in print.

So, typing them funny or incorrectly makes them more acceptable!

Am I right?

You're G@%d&!ned right I'm F$*?ing right!  Just so you know, I didn't actually swear there.  The first word is just a mess of letters and the second word was really "fishing."

But there's other cases in print where you just can't use the more accurate phonetic spelling (which should be spelled FONEHTIK) as opposed to the incorrect sounding more accurate looking word.  For example, when you foolishly thought I was swearing in that last paragraph, did you think to yourself "Nohhhhhhhhh Dooooooood" or did you think "Noooooooo Duuuuuuuuuude?"  The fist one is "No Dude" and the second one is clearly "New Duddy."  However, the second one is more visually pleasing.

There are so many more cases but I'm almost certain I am losing you, so I will move on to another example of what we're losing by communicating through text.

Here, I've got a question for you.  What's that song on organ that you sometimes hear at a wedding or some event at a church.  You know the one.  It goes like this

duh duh
d-duh duh
d-duh duh
d-duh duh

d-duh duh
d-duh duh
d-duh duh
d-duh duh

dah duh duh
d-duh duh
d-duh duh
d-duh duh

d-duh duh
d-duh duh
d-duh duh
d-duh duh

And repeats slowly changing to lower octaves each go around until it starts back up at the top again in the original octave?

Now don't confuse with that other one, that should never be played at a wedding, that goes:

Dah Dah Dah Duhhhhh

Dah Dah Dah Duhhhhh

Dah Dah Dah Duh Dah Dah Dah Duh Dah Dah Dah Duhhhhh
Dah Dah Dah Duh Dah Dah Dah Duh Dah Dah Dah Duhhhhh

and so on....

So my point is, without actually talking face to face and trying to sing this melody to someone your chances are slim in finding out what it is.  Granted actually singing it to them in person may actually increase your chances of being locked up.

Maybe I'm putting too much thought into this?  Perhaps fonehtik spelling is the wave of the future?  In fact please read the text below that I've copied and pasted from the page I've linked it to:

"May Ive yr attn plz? Ncase u may nt av realized, txt msgN hs Bcum a vry populA 4m of r Coms. sum ppl av diFrent ideas bout hw txt msgN S afectin r lang. S txtN makeing us laZ n iliter8 or openng r minds 2 nu 4m of lerning n lang?"

Oh Crap.  We're screwed.

"And I stiiiiill haven't found, what I'm looking for..." Or have I?

I have to say, the greatest love in my life will always be my daughter.  So let me just put that one out there right now!  Before I go any further, I think it is safe to say that the way I feel about my child is unconditional!

Now with that stated, she IS going to leave me.  She needs to leave.  As a parent, I am raising her to be able to stand on her own and go off and be her own person and live her own life.  She has to make her own mistakes and experience her own thrills in attempt to achieve her own level of greatness!

That breaks down to the basic fact that I will always love her and she will leave me.  She has to.

Now, as a parent, I started out married.  I felt remarkably similar about my wife as I do about my child.  However, apparently, much like my own child, our marriage was all about me helping her grow to a point where she could eventually leave me too.  YUP.

Soooooo ... I can try to invest my love in a dog right?  A dog will love me unconditionally and I must admit, I will keep any dog I adopt for the duration of their life, but I am not certain if my love is "unconditional."  It's the whole "Don't crap in the house" condition.  I'm pretty keen on dogs accepting every aspect of "the world outside is your bathroom... the world inside is your bed" policy.  But if they can't get the whole "don't go potty in the house" thing, that my friends is a condition!

But aside from that, dogs leave too.  I've never had one run away, but painfully enough, they die young.  They are such fragile creatures that we accept into our family.  Three dogs in three years has not given me the confidence in yet another long lasting relationship.  Yes, one dog I lost to old age a little over three years ago and a second I lost at 18 months old to a fluke illness of sorts.  My current dog has been with me a little over a year now.  She is a great joy, but she's still nuts.  I'm guessing that in about two years she'll settle down and be "normal" and then I'll have maybe 8 more years with her?  It's sad to think about it, but she will leave me too.

So, what do I know right now....

1. Kids = Leave
2. Spouses = Leave
3. Pets = Leave

And all three leave a lasting impression on your heart, good or bad.

So, I can be all macho and say "I love my truck!"  It is scary to me how much people have loved their cars in the past.

"WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT?  I'VE BEEN POLISHING HER UP ALL DAY!  I USE SPECIAL SOAP AND WAX AND CHAMOIS HER WHOLE BODY EVERY SATURDAY!!!  LOOK AT THAT CHROME SHINE!"   Followed by, with much less excitement I might add, "over there is the wife and kids.  Honey, could you move, you're blocking the sun light from hitting HER front bumper."

Nope, that's not me!  Sure, I do appreciate my truck but it's going on ten years.  Yes, it takes me where I want to go, but I'm pretty sure I have some say in it.  Let's face it, it's a vehicle to serve a purpose.

I'm just not the car loving type.

So, what I am looking for you might ask?

Well:

I want to be loved unconditionally too!
I do NOT want to be judged for what I am wearing, or the lack there of, at any given time!
I DO want to be held; hey, I'm an 80's guy!
I want to be able to lounge around for hours and watch television.
I do not want to have ANY fear of ever being left!
I want soft skin to caress at all times.
I want it to get better with age!

Well, guess what folks!  I have found what I've been looking for all these years!!!

You've been with me all along and you'll NEVER leave me oh so comfy chair!

Yes... goals and perspective do change after 40!  Just... just be happy for me!

I am still writing.. but I am so easily distracted... WAFFLES

I swear I'm writing.  I do it every day.  The problem is that I am unable to finish.  I am unable to finish every day.

Actually I have about 12 incomplete posts right now and one of those has been on hold since the very week I started this thing.

You know, I wrote so much when I started and my mind kept generating new stuff to write.  It's all still there.  But lately, as soon as I get started, I find my mind wandering.

Have you ever seen the movie "Awakenings?"  It's that whole Robert Deniro comes out of a Coma with the help of "El Dopa" story.  El Dopa sounds like something that would have the opposite effect on you.  Anyway, once he's essentially "awake" he starts living a life.  However, eventually, he needed more and more El Dopa until it got to the point where it simply didn't work anymore.

Well that has very little to do with me.  However, I guess my point is that the blog, when I first started it, really helped me focus.  I would sit at my computer with an idea in my head, and I'd start typing it out.  As soon as I was finished, I had a rush of accomplishment.  "To hell with paying bills or cleaning my house!  I've got a blog to write!"  Is pretty much how I felt.

So here I am 7 months later and the thoughts are still flying through my head and I still sit to write, but suddenly, I'll get up and clean my house, pay my bills, feed my child, walk my dog, take my cold medicine, deal with being sad over the holidays, go on a date, do my job, play a game, watch a movie....

I noticed my focus first slowing down when my daughter's school year started.  Wow!  It is amazing how her schedule is such a major part of my life!  Granted, I live for that.  Unfortunately that's not as consistent as I had originally hoped for what with her having to grow up in two households and all.

Then, football season started.  I work on the weekends a lot during college sports seasons.  And, so, exhaustion and just being busy sets in.

As the football season came to an end, I was lambasted by the holidays.  You, know that time of year when no matter how happy you try to be and no matter how much happy stuff you try to surround yourself with you can't help but be sad about everyone you've lost and how where your life is right now is NOTHING like what you had hoped for.  Seriously, I know people who have lives I'd love to have who are sad about it and wish they had my life.  HAH!!!!

As a kid the holidays are blast because you can enjoy them for what they are.  A time to celebrate!  But as an adult, they become reminders of better times, or just a time of "reflection."  Growing up sucks sometimes!

I stay in hotels quite often as of late.  Do you remember when you were a kid and staying in a hotel was like sleeping in a them park?  It was SO EXCITING AND NEW!!!!  As an adult, all I want is my own bed and my own pillows and dammit, MY OWN COFFEE MAKER!!!

It's like going to McDonald's.  As a kid, eating at McDonald's was a victory in your life.  As an adult, it is a complete failure.  When I go to McDonald's now, I try to eat healthy, or as healthy as I can.  I might try a salad, but often I'll go with the grilled chicken sandwich.  However, as I have been informed by my so-called friends, "going to McDonald's for something healthy is liking going to a hooker for a hug."

Well, I don't have need for a hooker, but I sure could use a hug... AND A GRILLED CHICKEN SANDWICH IN MY OWN BED!!!

Of course (getting somewhat back on point here) once I survived the holidays the new year started.  We're remarkably busy at work and I've been on the road a lot on the weekends, staying in a nice hotel. Of course, "nice hotel" indicates to me these days that it loses some of the niceties I'm looking for.  Maybe I'm just not classy enough, but, now matter how nice the hotel, as I mentioned before, I miss my bed, my pillows and my coffee maker! 

Nope... I missed my point...

Of course, yes, I can compensate with the hotel coffee maker in my room and then grab a cup from the lobby on my way out.  However, at this particular "nice" hotel, there is no free coffee in the lobby.  No, they have a nice bistro where I can pay for a cup of coffee.  But worst of all, the one thing that I actually DO love about staying in a hotel these days is making my own waffle in the morning (seriously, I may not be classy).  But this nicer hotel (which I really do appreciate) that I've stayed at three times this month alone, WON'T LET ME MAKE MY OWN DAMN WAFFLE!!!!  I have to go to the bistro if I wanna eat in the hotel and the bistro don't got no waffles!

Get back on point (again).  I'm writing still.

Love Letter to a Twerp

I found this file on my computer today.  

I had completely forgotten that I had written this to a co-worker after having worked together for only 9 months.  Wow.  I was obviously un-pleased with him. But I am oh so proud of my writing!

Please keep in mind as you read this, that yes, we were friends (and still may be having not spoken in a few years) and yes, he wrote something similar to me but mine was WAY BETTER!!!

May 16, 2007

Dear "You,"

    You suck. . . I do not mean this in a metaphysical way, or even a homo-erotic/ sexual way.  I certainly do not mean that you do in fact compel anything or anyone to approach you.

     It is more that you suck as much as a black hole that devours everything in existence around it including any sense of joy, reason, logic, respect, pleasantries, and all general socially accepted activities, mannerisms and niceties.  It then basically corrupts these and excretes them from some unknown end into a state of limbo never to be enjoyed again.

    It is much too clear that you have designed the world around you to reflect such a disdain for all there is to cherish.  Being that you have been successful existing within such an environment as you desire, I commend you.  "Well done" as it were.

    With that said, your fascination with fecal matter, flatulence, various forms of contempt and misery including the “screaming and whining” from the other side of that sarcophagus you call an office brings to the forefront the idea that what you truly need is a hug.  Not from me mind you . . . in fact if you try, I will promptly relocate your testicles from nether to within, making them dangle from your ear-lobes like a Peruvian Headpiece!

     I spurn you as I would spurn a rabid dog.

     You are a pain in my side! I am not referring to a cramp one may receive while jogging (that’s a form of exercise you ubiquitous dolt)! I am not even referring to a pain so gentle as to be given by the compassionate hands of Longinus!

     No, you sir are much more like a small city that is growing as though it were a cancer. Urban sprawl gushing from within and vomiting itself in virgin terrain spreading pollution, sewage and trendy little café’s all about mucking up a perfectly good side of my body! From within this growth, pains radiate through my skull at the mere mention of your concerns as if they were a visit from one of those kids who stop by right when you’re sitting down for dinner to see if you will purchase a magazine subscription so that they may attend college. Oh yeah, like any school that promotes it’s curriculum before it promotes its’ dining hall menu is going to be pleased with your application!

     Your misery and inner monologue of utter disgust would be cause for even Yoda to collapse in tears and wish for flowers to arrange for the mere opportunity to find “a place happy.”

     My only hope is that you get a paper cut from this very note which causes you great annoyance and brings you to such a low state that you attempt to remove your head with this very same paper cutting letter that has given me so much joy to write.  You will fail at your paper cut decapitation as you have failed at not being a social pariah!  And I pray that your pending failure may humble you greatly!

     Good day to you sir... I. said. good. DAY!

"Me."

So, yeah... apparently that's what I sounded like "angry" a little less than 6 years ago. 

Don't cross me.  'Cuz, given time to carefully think about my response, I might just put you in your place!!!  Or at the very least, a place.

Pugsly and (The one that has little to do with) The All Nighter

I had a dream last night about the only "all nighter" study session that I ever had in college.  I really did that.  Once.

My old friend "Pugsly" and I decided that we were going to stay up all night and study for our exam!  This was the first end of semester exam period of our Freshman year.  It was the 80's.  It was a crazy time!  But I wasn't stressed in the least.  It was his idea and Pugsly had never led me astray before. 

I had been through midterm exams and those freaked me out more than I had ever been freaked out before.  I got so upset about being worried about my exams that I called my Mom up and scolded her for raising me to have such a "worry gene."  She laughed at me over the phone but I like to think that when she hung up with me, she was worried. 

I finally called "Merph" a girlfriend of mine (in the traditional sense that she's a girl and we're friends) who was a Junior and had been through these "mid terms" before.  In her best air-traffic-control-tower-operator-trying-to-talk-down-a-passenger-who-is-now-flying-the-private-plane-because-the-pilot-died-having-just-eaten-the-fish-dinner voice, she calmly and seriously said "okay, now, do you have a beer or can you get access to a beer or any sort of alcohol....."  There was more to it, and I was able to find an emergency beer.  Eventually I relaxed.

So anyway, "Pugsly" was, of course, his nickname and to this day, I do not know why he was given that name.  He looked nothing like Pugsly from the Adams Family and he certainly didn't look like a Pug.  I had no part in his nickname.

We lived on the same floor in a dorm with roughly 39 of us on the floor.  I think there were 20 rooms shared by two roommates except that one room was a single where the RA lived.  The RA (Residential Advisor) was essentially the "warden."  Anyway, we shared one "community shower" that had like six spigots.  Dorm life was not glamorous.

Of all of the guys living on our floor, almost all of them were from New Jersey.  I could never figure out why so many people from that state would come south for college.  I still don't get it.  As best as I can tell, when I see how many people from New Jersey migrate south for college, I don't think there is anyone left to occupy New Jersey.  But somehow there is.

My first roommate that semester was from New Jersey.  I did give him a nickname; "Cockroach."  He LOVED IT!  I was not a big fan of him.  He ended up switching rooms and moving in with another guy from New Jersey.  His nickname was "Bonernose." I had no part in his nickname, but, it was pretty spot on.  Bonernose was a nice guy as I recall.

To the best of my memory, I was not overly popular on my hall.  It wasn't that no one liked me, I just didn't fit in and so I pretty much did my own thing.  Pugsly and I were both from the same southern state, although I am a Chicago transplant myself, but that happened about ten years before college.  So, in the eyes of all the New Jersey folks, we were both "Southerners."  I was fine with this.

Anyway, Pugsly fit in.  They liked him.  He's a great guy.  He always had the best spirit and wasn't shy, (I'm actually ridiculously shy, although when I tell people that, they laugh in my face).  So, Pugsly seemed to be quite comfortable with watching out for me and making sure I was "in the know" with everyone on my hall.  He'd invite me to join them on their adventures, and I would when I could, and he'd basically just make sure I wasn't too far out of the loop.

And whenever we'd go to a club (they were really just bars, but we were minors so, I'll refer to these as clubs), he'd always tell me after we got in "You point 'em out and I'll introduce!"  And I'll be damned, he'd do it.  I'd point to some cute little girl and he'd walk right up to her and a few minutes later she and I were laughing with each other bellied up the to club (bar).

I so admired his lack of fear.  It wasn't a stupid lack of fear like "watch me stand up to this oncoming truck that cannot possibly see me standing in the middle of the road," but more his comfort with himself and ability to just talk to anybody with no apparent self-centered purpose.  To this date, if I walk up to a girl I'm interested in, I'm lucky if I can get out two words that make sense.  If I go for more than two words, I pretty much say EVERYTHING.

Yes, my defense for shyness is to just talk.  People think that makes you "not shy" but no, it is really just a diversion.  Really, it's like singing on stage.  I had to do that a lot in my younger days.  I actually have stage fright.  However, if everyone was distracted by what I was singing, they wouldn't notice me.  At least that's what got me through.  The music was the diversion.  Doesn't make sense to you?  Works for me!

I learned to trust Pugsly and feel secure around him.  No, not in a dreamy "his arms are so big and cozy and I feel safe when he holds me" type way as a.) I'm all about the ladies b.) he's all about the ladies and c.) it could never work because he was so much smaller than me; seriously, I don't think he could even get his arms around me.  But, more in a "he was a good friend" way.

He was one of the first people in college I felt like I could be myself around and he wasn't going to give me a hard time about it.  Really, back then he was a great guy.  He may still be one now, but I don't know.  We're just social network friends.  I don't think we've actually spoken in 22 years.  Nothing happened.  College ended and he moved.  It's not like that.  Stop whatever it is that you're thinking.... 

I just hope he's not a real jerk now.

So when he said "hey man, let's pull an all nighter to study," I was all like "ok."  I trusted his judgement. 

And so, basically we studied a lot. 
We went to the 7-11 across the street for coffee a few times. 
I was so tired that I was dizzy when I took my exam and I only think I passed because the Graduate Assistant giving the exam felt sorry for me. 
I swore to myself I would never do that again and I never did.

I didn't say the all nighter dream was a good dream... I just said that I had it.

Oh yeah, one of my nicknames in college was "Woody" because I had a '76 Volare Station Wagon with simulated wood grain paneling on the side.

There you go.

Things I had forgotten that I too had to learn.

Inevitably this has happened to you... surely it has?

You're in the bathroom at home.  You're kneeling on the seat with the lid off of the back of your toilet and you're up to your elbows in icy cold water.  It's winter, so the water is cold.  The chain broke and the toilet will not flush, so you are now working (and freezing) in the cold water.

Your fingers are hurting as you try to replace the chain or just reattach some portion of the chain from the flapper thingy at the bottom to the flusher thingy at the top.  Your fingers are reeeeeeally hurting.

It's at this point that you see your child standing just off to your side where you can barely see her in your peripheral.  The blessed angel, only moments ago, sheepishly approached you in the living room to nervously announce "Daddy, the toilet won't flush."  She now stands with some distance between you both, but not so much that cannot see where your hands are, staring at you in horror.

"Is... is there poop in there?" she asks ashamedly.

And that's when it hits you...

As a parent we know we're supposed to teach our kids the basic "don't go out and get yourself maimed or killed today by doing something stupid" rules like:

• Wait 30 minutes before swimming after eating
• Don't stick your finger in the power outlet
• Don't hide in the refrigerator
• Don't play in traffic
• Don't stick your finger in the garbage disposal
• Don't jump off a bridge with "ANY NAME HERE" (again)
• Don't talk to strangers
• Don't stick your finger in that dog
• In fact, keep your fingers to yourself
• Stay away from hot things

and so on and so on....

And then we also teach them some of the basics like, math, how to use dishes and silverware, how not to use a plastic bag.... yada yada yada...

But there are other things that we just end up teaching our kids because, you just know.  For example, "No honey, there is nothing nasty in the back part of the toilet.  That is clean water that flushes the nasty stuff that you just did far far away!" 

And now she has learned.

But there are other things that we as adults simply take for granted that we know.  I have no idea when I learned them but I'm certain I had to.  Now I am learning all over again that at some point I must have learned them because I now know and you, the kid, obviously do not know.

Our kids are smart.  Probably even smarter than we were at their age.  Luckily, they're smart enough to ask questions about things that may seem silly to us but, well, they just need to know!  Some of the things that I have taught my child that I did not mean or intend to teach her, but she obviously needed to know, are as follows:

1. Of course, the whole "good water in the back part of the toilet" thing
2. Sometimes firemen just drive firetrucks around town and to stores and restaurants and that's not because the place is on fire or is going to be on fire or was recently on fire.  It's because they needed a big truck to drive that they could all ride in and you have to drive things quite often to make sure they still work.
3. Sometimes ambulance people just drive ambulances around town and to stores and restaurants and that's not because some one is hurt or is going to be hurt or was recently hurt.  It's because they sit in their ambulances all day and it's just what they drive. 
4. YES COPS TOO!!!
5. No, there is nobody inside the teller machine. 
6. Well yes the other day we did see someone coming out of the teller machine but that was only because he was getting some stuff out of the teller machine.  He was only in there for a second.
7. Okay, so yes, technically someone has to work "inside" of the teller machine from time to time but there is no one staffing it from the inside doling out money.
8. In this context, "Staffing" means working and "doling" means handing.
9. "Context" means how I used the word in this case.  Okay just stop with the %$#$!!! QUESTIONS!!!
10. Yes %$#$!!! was a bad word and I'm sorry I said it and I don't want you to ever say it.  Let's go get ice cream.
11. Yes, although you never see them, there are baby pigeons.
12. No, not all clowns are killers.. just some... no you cannot tell which ones.

So yeah, it's things like that that we as parents bestow upon our children as shining examples of wisdom and success in life!

You Say You Want a Resolution... Well, y'know?

It's been almost a week into 2013 and so I guess it's time I get around to declaring what I am going to change about myself to make my life better for a year.

Oh sure, on December 31st, 2012, I spent the day reflecting on every resolution I had made for 2012 knowing I had failed miserably at each and everyone.  But by now, that was a year ago!  It's time to move on... haha... NOT.

I think last year I promised myself that I would lose weight, save more money and let go of my past.  How did it work out for me you might ask?

• Well, I certainly didn't lose weight, but actually, I weighed the same on Jan. 1 2013 as I did on Jan. 1 2012.  However, I think I've gotten larger...so that's a FAIL.
• I was unable to save more money than I have any other year but did manage to pay off a lot of debt.  But "debt" wasn't a factor in last years decree and so, I failed.
• Aaaaand letting go of my past... well, my past just keeps getting bigger and it is always thrown back in my face and people keep giving me pictures to remember the past...  FAIL

So, although I survived the year and am certainly no worse off than I was, I'm not entirely certain I'm better off than I was either.  I've managed to stay the same.  However, maybe I'm a pessimist, but I think every failure is the exact opposite of what I wish to have happen. 

It does seem that each year, I set goals on the very first day and I start a countdown to failure.  No matter where my good intentions are for myself and for those around me, the world still happens....

"I want to lose weight"- Family members feed me a lot, co-workers bring cakes, friends get together in bars and eating establishments (instead of back alleys), my kid forces me to eat ice cream....

"I want to save money"- taxes go up, benefits become more expensive, cars break, medical issues occur...

"I want to forget my past"-  Pictures, Social Networking, Family, Photos, My "past" sending me an e-mail telling me how pissed off it is that I didn't handle something the way it chose to handle that something without discussing it with me first so I went off in a different and apparently wrong direction...

The cards are stacked against me. 

In fact all of us. 

It seems that failure is always prevalent in any attempt at anything.  But that doesn't mean "GIVE UP BECAUSE EVERY EFFORT TO SUCCEED LEADS TO A CHANCE TO FAIL!"  For me it just means accept the chance that you will fail whether it is an option or not.  Failure isn't always overly significant as if to say that, "sure, there's a chance you are going to fail in putting that fork full of meatloaf in your mouth and hit your eye instead," but that's pretty slim chance of failure there and always a good reason to not get goofy drunk before eating meatloaf.

But yeah, "I'm going to lose weight over the next 365 days" is a great opportunity to fail.  You really have to change your life.  And even by not gaining weight and staying the same as I did, I still absolutely failed at losing weight.  However I actually did lose weight a few times throughout the year.  Of course, the problem is I celebrated with friends and family and beer and pizza and cake and sausage and little tiny cookies with very little calories that fool you into thinking that since they have so few calories you can eat a ton of them....

It's like quitting smoking.  I know many people who set that as their goal every year:

"This Year I WILL Quit SMOKING!!!"

Well, they do it.  I know what I am about to say is controversial, but, SMOKING IS ONE OF THE EASIEST THINGS TO QUIT DOING!!!!  There, I said it.  It is.  I've never been a smoker, but everyone I know quits smoking each and every day.  Seriously, it's so "easy" to quit that most people do it 6 or 7 times a day.

The catch is the whole "NOT HAVING ANOTHER CIGARETTE!!!"  That's the tough part.  And that's the part that sucks.  Of course, sure this may sound cryptic, but by setting the goal/ resolution of "QUITTING SMOKING" you will succeed over and over and over again.  However it's the set back of picking up another cigarette that no smoker I know can forgive themselves for.  So, they keep smoking.

Well this blog isn't about quitting smoking, as I do not smoke (and I am lucky to be ignorant of that particular addiction), but more about forgiving myself for not having complete success about achieving a goal or at the very least getting close to them.

So this year's resolution for me are going to be more limits than goals.  I'll see how it goes.

1. In 2013 I will refrain from gaining more weight and strive to keep off whatever I lose
2. In 2013 I will NOT spend more money and try to save any amount that I can
3. In 2013 I will work on accepting as well as reflecting on my past in an effort to avoid making the same mistakes; also I will give myself more time before responding to confusingly angry e-mails and texts from my "past."

I'll see how this works out and perhaps next year I'll make resolutions using the whole "Murphy Factor" and say things like "I plan to gain more weight and make less money" in hopes of the opposite actually occurring.

Oh yeah and:

     4.  In 2013 I will buy only winning lottery tickets! Failure is NOT an option?



The Calendar

I just set up my calendar for 2013.

It's nothing glamorous.  It's the cheapest desk calendar that I could find at the office supply store.

Every year I start with a brand new crisp paper calendar with a cardboard back and plastic corners to keep the pages from going awry.

I take all twelve months and I plan them accordingly.  I write down all events that I know of at the beginning of the year.  I schedule all of my time with my child and all of my work holidays.  I schedule all school holidays and I write down all of the birthdays for family and those special to me.

Yes, I also have all of this down on the calendars on my smart phone and it's comparable tablet but I want this laid out before me where I can see it all at once.  Yes, I can wait for social networking to tell me who I am supposed to remember on any specific day, but again, I want it in writing.

It's the beginning of the year, I want to know what to expect for the next 12 months.

The pages are all so white clean and crisp.  The corners are all so straight.  The plastic seems to do it's job so well.

The calendar is complete. 
I have it all scheduled out before me. 
I know what to expect. 

LET THE NEW YEAR BEGIN!!!

And so it does.

But very little tends to go as planned.

I find myself writing more onto my calendar in the first week alone, appointments, new birthdays, re-scheduled events, adjustments to my child's schedule....

As I flip through the months back and forth, I notice that January is no longer crisp.  It had been pushed out of the way so many times that it is haggard and worn.  I have scribbled so many "adjustments" on the page that it is more like an abused scratch pad than a crisp page of structure and organization.  By the 31st, the page is ready to be torn away and recycled.  As an entity, it wants this. 

But it is no entity.  It is merely one page of my life.

The cycle begins for February... and when I have reached the 28th, it can take no more.  It must go.

Another page has turned, been ripped out and is gone.

By March I am adding vacations for me and for my child with and without me.  It's the time without her that I do not wish to remember.  Easter has passed and now MARCH MUST GO!

I try to remember very little of the nuisances I have scheduled on my calendars.  And so there is a cleansing with the dismissal of each and every page. 

I remember March of last year a co-worker gave me a slice of pizza and it dripped some grease onto March.  The drip soaked through the pages and finally faded leaving it's final mark on September 16th.  This was not an eventful day as I recall, but I did make a note of it on that March day so that on September 16th I'd know what I was looking at on my white crisp page.

As the months pass, each and every month I reach tends to start out less crisp than the last month.  It is as though everything I schedule on the page for the month before is bearing down and pressuring the months to come. 

As I flip pages in and out to see what is to come, the corners of each page become more and more curled and the plastic corners are no longer up for the task for which they were designed.  They are mere decorations by the time I reach December.

As I tear away November, having delved once again into the "Holidays," my calendar looks worn down.  It is beaten.  It has been well used and has very little left to offer.  On December 1st, the page looks as defeated as January did on the 31st all those pages ago.

I must work through this tired page and muster on.  The page is cold and aged.  It has scars on it from scribbles that were made on other pages when they were in their crispy prime.  December is a page that was crisp and new on January 1st but is an old man by December 1st. 

It had no prime.

As I scratch off the passing days through December, I can see the marks made in time, scribbles of some important meeting or a birthday of someone dear to me or an event that I did not wish to forget which I have evidently forgotten.

December bears the burden held by all of the pages throughout the year.  It is the only page to see how the year was expected to go, what was changed and how it actually turned out.  December is the one page that had the most time to age.

December is a tired old man welcoming the clean crisp youth of January.  It is the only page to see the new calendar come to replace it.  And so it rests before me as I fill out my next calendar. 

The twelve pages are very real, but are certainly a metaphor for me for each and every year.

Perhaps it is more than a calendar for you?

Happy New Years everybody!  May your pages stay crisp, clean and neat!

Christmas is over... I survived and I feel much better for it.

So, I just kind of fell off the map during "The Holidays."  I'm not certain how to explain it without sounding whiny, but I must say, I'm now feeling full of stuff to say.

Christmas is what we celebrate in my family.  I'm not any sort of scholar of any religious belief and I am certainly not going to try to be one now.  Of course, it is encompassed with a religious overtone and I stick to the more modern day Pseudo-Christian evolution of this seasonal celebration.  Many friends of mine celebrate Hanukkah (any way you spell it) so I am somewhat familiar with that though extremely ignorant.

For the sake of this blog, I will discuss the "Holiday" in line with what Christmas has become for me.  Again, I may be whiny as I am not certain where I am going with this this early on in today's post; sorry.

"When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child....."  It was wonderful!

As a kid, Christmas was the pivotal day of the year.  However, contrary to that statement, it wasn't a particular day for my family.  Sure, it was "December 25th" for us as it was for anyone, but outside of any religious significance, it was just a day. 

Dad was in the Navy and often away under the waves for long periods.  Our family celebration of Christmas typically happened whenever his boat returned to port which was never on time.  Sometimes, we didn't celebrate Christmas until January.  So, the holiday season became a time for us to share with our family.  Of course, that's what it is supposed to be about for everyone, a time for family.  That's just my version of how I learned that.  It was not so much for the day (again outside of any religious expectation) but more of a season often spent waiting for Dad to come home.

Now, there is absolutely no denying that I started looking forward to December 25th each year moments after I opened my last present on whatever day we celebrated Christmas.  I can remember digging into a Lego set some time in the 80's thinking "next year I'll have enough to rule the world!!!" or something like that.  It is just a common part of Kid-dom... PRESENTS!!!!

I do like how parents can tell you "remember the reason for the season" in the weeks leading up to Christmas, but a few months before that they also say, "Remember, Santa is watching!!!"  These both kind of cancel each other out in the whole "what is Christmas all about" dilemma society has with Christmas.  So as a kid, you rule out all of the politics and controversy and IT'S ALL ABOUT THE PRESENTS!!!!

I didn't get a lot each Christmas, but I got enough to be grateful.  As a child, I don't think I truly appreciated our one day of gift giving (GETTING) and our family time that we shared; I did not know how good I had it.

As an adult, I look back at that time together and think "Thank You!"



"But when I became a man, I put away childish things."  I had to.

Growing up was forced upon me and at times, I honestly resent it even though it came later in life.

Christmas 1987 was the first "difficult" Christmas I can recall.  I was a bag boy at a grocery store, living at home with my folks and I could hardly wait for the next August knowing I would be moving away for college or whatever! 

Christmas Eve was spent working in the grocery store.  We closed early but before we could leave we had to clean up and stock the shelves.  However, my routine was disrupted when my siblings came knocking on the store front and spoke to my manager.  I had to leave urgently.

Dad was in an ICU... something about his heart. 

I don't recall every detail, but it was during those hours that I started thinking as an adult about Christmas.  It dawned on me that I wanted to be with my family, moving away wasn't such a necessity and "Oh God, please don't take Dad on Christmas!"

It turned out to be not so bad.  As I recall, he spent a night or two in the hospital and was home either Christmas Day or the next.  I'm surprised I don't remember more.  I moved away the following August.

Throughout college, I celebrated the holidays with friends and classmates.  They became an extended family, but I was always back with my family at Mom and Dad's for Christmas. 

1993 was a rough Christmas but only because of real life.  I was out of school and had a job.  I worked until Midnight on Christmas Eve televising a church service.  I would continue to do this for the next 12 years of my life.  In fact, that Christmas Eve Church service eventually became part of my personal Christmas Holiday.  I looked forward to it.  I also looked forward to the overly indulgent Christmas Eve Dinner my co-workers and I would have from McDonald's each year.  These are great memories!

So, December 25 1993, I went to bed at 1 am.  I got up around 6 am and drove a friend of mine to his family's house 2.5 hours Southeast from where I live.  I dropped him off by 10 and drove the 1.5 hours north from his place to my folks house.  I was home for about 5 hours when I drove the 2 hours west back to my apartment and returned to work by 10 that night.  This was my life.  It was worth it.  It was Christmas!

1994 hurt.  I left my job right after our church service and drove to my folks.  I actually ended up staying with a relative in his newly built home.  It was nice.  We woke up that morning very early to the phone call stating that my Grandmother had just died.  On Christmas?  We spent most of our Christmases with her and my Grandfather.  We usually travelled  to their house in Florida for Christmas but now that she had become ill, they had moved up to live near my folks. 

I could not imagine Christmas being such a joy ever again.  It was.

Within a year I had met someone and my life would be forever changed (good and bad of course).  So from 1995 to 2005 I had my routine... Christmas Eve Church Broadcast (McDonald's Dinner)... Christmas morning with her family (as they lived in town) and either Christmas night or the day after at my folks.  It was wonderful.

In 2004 it became the most wonderful time of my life as that was the first Christmas with my daughter and with a complete family of my own.  I did not think life could get any better.

I was right.

2005 was still a wonderful Christmas and at this point in my life, it was the last complete Christmas I ever had.  Sometimes, I wish I had known in advance that it was going to be the last one I'd spend with my Dad.

There was a parallel I have thought of about me and Dad:  it was not "Christmas" until he got home.  Then I was the only one to move away.  Ever since, Mom has held out Christmas until I got home.

Christmas 2006 was when it truly hit me that Dad was gone.  He had been gone for 9 months by the time the holiday rolled around but it was nothing without him.  It was empty.  My God, Mom lost HER MOM on Christmas day and there I was moping about losing Dad 9 months earlier.  It was painful.  I was depressed; the whole family was. 

2007 had potential, but something in my own home was wrong and I didn't know what.  It was an uncomfortable Christmas.  My wife had spent more on my Christmas gifts than anyone ever had before in my life and it just got to the point of feeling awkward.  We separated just before Christmas 2008.

Since then, Christmas has become a painful few weeks.  Who am I to mope, I know I still have it better than a majority of the world but it is no longer what I was trained to believe in.  It is supposed to be a time for family, but my family has split.  I spend the holiday either alone waiting for my child to come home or I spend it with her knowing how let down I am going to be when she has to leave.

But it is still a beautiful time.  It is still an incredible season to try to believe in.  We find a way to enjoy some of it.  I don't need presents.  I want nothing that can be wrapped.  I appreciate anything I received of course, but that is no longer the point.

For me, it has become a season of wishing for peace.  I always thought that the whole "Peace on Earth" thing was to stop war but I now I think it is a time to find an inner peace among all of us.  Sure there is a religious aspect to it all and we all want to be with family, but you cannot always be with family.  And as you lose family, you have to find a way to cherish them during this season.

It is a time that I have to make myself be grateful for what I have and who I have in my life.  It is tough.

Granted for my child, it is a dream of loot!  Unfortunately she is not going to grow up with the stable family tradition I grew up with.  Fortunately for her (I guess) she doesn't seem to know the difference. 

This year alone, she had a night at my house before Christmas opening gifts with the children of a lady-friend of mine (mrrrowwwrrr).  Then a few days later she had a gift opening with her step-family out of state.  On Christmas Day she opened gifts in three different houses with her Mom.  The day after she had Christmas with me and some family at my house and then again the next day at My Moms.

Yes, she knows that there is a strong "Religious" purpose for the season, and she is often sad about growing up in two houses, especially during the holidays, but let's face it... PRESENTS!!!!

It was not lost on her that she had seven different places or times to open gifts.  Coincidentally, she honestly asked me why we don't celebrate the 9 days of Hanukkah.

Yeah, I think she's planning something...

And so this is the apocalypse and what have you done...

Okay, I've been away for a bit.  I'm sorry.... I'm willing to bet that you're okay.

What with staving off a cold and dealing with the holiday season and all the emotional ups and downs that come with these two things, I was kind of looking forward to the apocalypse.  Okay, not really, but how can I avoid the fanfare and bandwagoning that this day brings?

It just seems so unoriginal and somewhat odd that people actually looked forward to this day.  It is almost as though everyone was making such a big fuss about it because, well, what if it really was going to happen?  Man, can you imagine how silly you'd feel if the world was blowing up around you and you were the only person among your peers who told everyone that they were "complete idiots festooned with internal dunce caps eclipsing what limited intelligence they once had" for believing in such a thing?

Instead, if you just joked about the end of the world coming today and commented about it constantly, everyone would know that either a.) when the world actually did end today that you really were a genius, or b.) HAH, you're such the comedian.

As many of you have, I've witnessed several of these "final" days and at least one of them was taken quite seriously.  It was quite frustrating for me was when I had to be at work on January 1st, 2000 at 5 am to be ready to broadcast news of the end of the world.  Seriously, that was normally a morning off for those of us on the morning shift of live television.  We always had a holiday on Jan 1 and got to party it up hard and stay up late on New Years Eve. 

On a side note, when you work the morning shift in television and have to be in before 5 am every day, staying up "late" for you is typically 9-ish in the PM.  So staying up past midnight is a great accomplishment.

Unfortunately we (me and my crew) had to be at the office by 5 am to report what was expected to be the end of the world due to the failure of all modern technology.  I saw irony in this.  We were supposed to use technology (our computers and all of our computerized broadcasty thingys) to tell everyone that none of their technology was working so they would most likely be dead in any minute.

"What's the point" I thought at 12am that morning as I opened another beer.

So, starting at 5am on January 1st, there were about 10 or 15 or so hung over individuals just lounging about with not so much to do.  Every once in a while we would "cut in" to our network programming to say something like "everything seems to be working... if you are experiencing any technological failures and you cannot see this report, please call us and let us know, in the meantime, here's the weather guy!"

But this happens all the time. 

People constantly think the world is going to end... tomorrow. 

I first learned about this when I watched Poltergeist 2 which was about that weird Pepperidge Farm looking guy convincing all of his followers to bury themselves in a cave because, you guessed it, the world's totally ending soon.  Of course the world didn't end so he had to go door to door and haunt people...

"Good afternoon, can I interest you in a Milano Cookie? 
Oh yeah, if you don't buy one, I'm TOTALLY coming back!"

Needless to say, that movie and that guy in particular gave me nightmares.  But I sure do love his cookies!

So yeah, that freaked me out in middle school and then I started learning about Nostradamus and fortune tellers who kept on predicting the end of the world.  WHY DO THEY KEEP DOING THAT?  Seriously, is there some sort of room in the after-life where all the doomsayers are gathered playing some sort of Apocalypse Lottery?  What do they get if they win?

"Congratulations Nostro....you win the LAST BOX OF TWINKIES!!!!"

So, in short, look at this:



I so love the look on this guys face!

This happened back in either 1988 or 1989.  I love the very first line that says,

"... the most amazing thing about today is that it arrived."



My mother cut this out and sent it to me when I was in college.  She mailed me many newspaper clippings over the years.  My Mom, in fact, most of my family, for that matter, has a GREAT sense of humor!

No disrespect for the South Koreans because every culture tends to do this all the time, but I just wonder if this particular guy is still to this day lounging about thinking "what the hell man?" 

I'm sure he's probably saying that, but in Korean.

Sick Day...

One of the worst things about taking a sick day from work, other than the whole "being sick" part of it, is how good you tend to feel while you sit home idle, doing nothing.

You sit at work one day coughing "stuff" up and dealing with a runny nose.  You're eyes are burning, your lungs are irritated then you get the chills and you have some nausea.  It's not stomach bug nausea but it's the whole "what the hell did my sinuses just pass down the back of my throat" type nausea.  I'm sorry if that's a bit graphic but it's true.  I'm somewhat convinced that ingesting large amounts of mucus is probably not ideal for my stomach!  There's that gross "bit graphic" I was referring to before.... My apologies, again...

So, there you are sitting at work dealing with all of the symptoms and having that whole internal battle with yourself of "I'm dying" versus "No you're not it's either allergies or a cold; don't be stupid.... of course you won't know for sure until you either die or you don't!" 

And you cave in when you realize that:

1. You feel like hell
2. Your productivity is really falling quickly
3. Your co-workers don't deserve to have to deal with all of the obnoxious bodily functions of yours that are suddenly in overdrive
4. Your co-workers don't need to catch whatever you have if it's catchable
5. Your co-workers DON'T WANT YOU THERE
6. Yup, you're dying

So, you slip out of the office when you've had enough and completed all of your necessary work.

That night you take a handful of pills and sprays that some guy you know, who talked to a girl he knows, who just met up someone, who spoke to a pharmacy tech who's studying to be a pharmacist (but really wants to act), recommended for each individual symptom you have, sort of.  And now you've just started your very own private rave in your house.  At least, it felt that way.  You're now exhausted from coughing so much all day but you're FREAKIN' WIRED from all of the meds that are apparently designed to give you enough jitters to simply shake the bad germs out of your system.

You go to bed and stare for a few hours.

Eventually you get up and you know for certain you'll be dead by noon.  It's only five am so it probably isn't the best time to start texting or calling a co-worker or two.  You wait until 5:15 to tell them.  They don't care.  More than anything, they're just happy you're staying away from them.  They are TOTALLY going to talk about you today and most likely assume you are lying....

You have a cup of coffee to start your day and promptly fall asleep for the best 2 hours of sleep you've had all night.  Why did the coffee that usually keeps you up put you to sleep?  It's obvious... YOU'RE DYING!!!

When you wake back you feel somewhat refreshed.  You go to your favorite chair in the living room and you sit and watch tv for a few hours.  And suddenly it dawns on you, "Holy Crap!  I feel GREAT!"

You sit there and run that through your head for a bit.... Is this the peaceful feeling before dying?  Am I really lying?  Did I jitter out all of the bad germs?  What was in that coffee?

And then you do what EVERYBODY always does when they are either in denial that something is wrong, embarrassed that they might really be sick or "HAVEN'T GOT TIME TO BE SICK!!!"  You start doing stuff... What the hell is your problem?

After about five minutes, you suddenly realize that it was the whole calm before the storm thing and you probably have about 5 minutes to live.

That's when you decide it's time go lay back down and stop blogging .... for five minutes.

Sometimes, Rhyming is HARD!

I sat at home and tried to write.
But in my brain there was a fight.
The couch was cozy it just felt right.
What would I do on this here night?

With my laptop sitting by my side
I told myself "I'll write!" I lied.
I stared upon my twinkling keys
and pulled the blanket above my knees.

It felt so good, I felt so warm.
The breeze outside was a chilly swarm.
So I got cozy and planned to write
But instead I pulled that blanket tight.

Above my chest the blanket rose
which complimented the warmth of my clothes.
My laptop sat there all aglow
but my eyelids started getting low.

The puppy watched me from the floor.
She willed me to take her out the door.
I tried to stand but the blanket led
It pulled me back to the couch instead.

As I propped my feet on the couch down there
I felt a pillow brush my hair
I realized I was now reclined.
"This cannot be... I have not dined!"

And so I lay there, warm and cozy
and on tv was my favorite show(zy)
I felt I was starting not to care
For a night to relax is seldom and rare.

So my laundry sat out unwashed and scattered
and dirty dishes by the sink just sat there all splattered.
The puppy gave up and laid on the floor
she had lost all interest in going outside the door.

Cozy in my blanket wrapped like a cocoon
I noticed my laptop had moved across the room.
"How could that be" I stared in wonder
And the blanket got tighter just pulling me under.

My couch was so cozy like a heavenly cloud
I convinced myself reclining was all my blanket allowed.
I had no control in my blankets tight grasp.
I opted to complete not one nightly task!

And so I did nothing I just sat there and stared.
For reclining and relaxing was all that I cared.
So close to two hours I lay there all lazy.
Happily doing nothing while my eyes got all glazy.

I finally broke free of my blankets crude hold.
"But that's all I wanna do" myself I had told.
I let the dog out while I cleared my foggy head.
"I know what I'll do!  I'm GOING TO BED!!!"

The puppy came in and I turned off the lights.
I'm sure in her eyes I was a hell of a sight.
And so we curled up in bed at the ripe hour of nine.
"This sure is early" I thought "and that's fine."

More than nine hours of sleep I got in my bed.
I could not believe how clear was my head.
I remembered things like where I put my keys.
I found lost socks and shoes, "oh this is the bees knees!"

Oh, sleep how I've missed you! I feel energized!
Last night I just wanted to curl up and die.
But now I'm all perked, swimming through my house like the fishes.
Then I got to the kitchen "OH CRAP, there's the dishes!"

Now I have much to do, as I did nothing last night.
But It was all I had hoped for, in my blanket so tight.
So it's morning and once again life feels right.
And I have finally managed to focus and write!



Yup, that's all I got for you.  I don't want to hear any complaints about "showzy" and "bees knees!!!"

"Swine Job" Part III

Yes, this became a three part story.  Part 1; Part 2
Yes, I am amazed at how much I've had to say about this.
No, you're not a bad person if you gave up already.
However, I promise you that you will be thoroughly entertained closer to the end of this particular post thus making it all worth it.

To recap, NINETEEN YEARS AGO:

1. I had a part time job in college
2. I didn't like it
3. I did not respect it
4. I was out "sick" often
5. I was let go
6. They didn't tell me why
7. I can assume why
8. Out of desperation, I took a job as a cook in a fast food barbecue joint
9. It was awful
10. I hated that job too
11. I learned a lesson

At the BBQ place, there were two particular days that I hated the more than ever and on one of those days I actually tried to get myself fired.  I failed at getting fired.  I think they were very grateful to have me (or more like anybody) in that position.

The first "worst day" I had was when I came walking out of the kitchen, during the lunch rush, covered in a coat of my glistening pig balm (I'm tired of typing "fat") carrying a tray of chop when I saw three of my former co-workers just staring at me in awe.  I had never told them where I was working after that day I was "mysteriously" let go.  I did not want them to know how low I had fallen. 

They did not know what to say, but I could tell by the looks on their faces that they did in fact know how far I had fallen.  They just smiled politely all wide eyed and confused and simply said "hi." 

I fell lower.  I can only hope that they saw me in my lowness, learned from my pain and never missed a day of work ever ever again!!!

The second worst day and the day I tried to get myself fired was just an intense and stressful day in the barbecue world.  It was... A Sunday!!!  Everyone comes by after church lets out.  So, by noon we're busy, by one we're swamped and by two, we're just lucky if we can keep up.

It was on this day that the manager straight out of college who didn't handle pressure well (mentioned in Part 2) snapped.  And I snapped right back at him.

I was in the kitchen alone trying to chop ham as fast as I could and turn it into fat free fat laden chop.  Out front the cashiers were taking orders as fast as they could.  I felt like they were messing with me.

The manager kept coming in to check on me, criticizing my speed in my 100+ degree kitchen but refused to offer any help.   I resented that just a bit.

It was not a big restaurant and although the kitchen was hardly visible from the dining area, you could hear everything going on in there throughout the building.  So, every employee and customer knew that the service was slow and that the manager was blaming the one guy in the kitchen.

As if to get his point across more clearly, the manager got onto the intercom and announced over the store p.a. "we need more chop from the kitchen please" only seconds after walking away from me.  My blood was boiling.  I immediately brought out what I had ready.  As I was putting the tray into the serving bin for the food prep folks, the manager got back on the intercom, standing maybe three feet away from me, looking at me and announced again over the p.a. "we need MORE chop!"

This is when I snapped. 

See, this wasn't my career choice by any means.  I was actually working this job whilst fulfilling my internship at a television station; a station which had mentioned to me that that may hire me in a month when my internship ended.  In fact, a month later they did hire me (sort of) and I ended up working there for the next thirteen years.  I say sort of, because the guy who hired me never told me that he had hired me.  He just started putting me on the schedule and never thought to inform me of such.  About two weeks later I called the station to thank my internship advisor who's first words on the phone with me were "WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?  THEY'RE GOING TO FIRE YOU IF YOU DON'T COME IN TODAY" to which I replied "What, I was hired?  I never even applied?"

Anyway, I could have cared less about the barbecue job.  I had only stuck it out so long because of my new found work ethic.  I HATED THIS JOB!!!  I had tried so hard to respect it, but at that very moment, I hated it enough to do this:

I hope the pictures make this so much cuter!

I was not in a good place.

That's me re-enacting what I pretty much yelled as I walked back into the kitchen to make more chop.  Oh yes, everybody in the restaurant could hear me as I called for the piggie and oinked back to myself a downright cute and precious little piggie response.  As I slammed the cleaver on the chopping block and made little piggie screams I felt a warmth in my heart like no other.

Eventually, shortly after the piggie screams started, the manager came running into the kitchen and skidded across the floor as he slipped in pig fat... "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!?!?!" He enthusiastically enquired in a panicked furor.

"I'M GETTIN' YOU MORE CHOP BOSS MAN" I replied followed by a few more cleaver thumps and piggie screams......... 

I was sent home to think about what I had done. 

I still think about it to this very day. 

They actually did not fire me or take any action against me other than to send me home that day, which is honestly all I really wanted.  In fact, they asked me to stay on after I graduated in a few months.  I politely told them "NO!!!."

I had learned that summer that as an employee you should not take any job for granted.  Likewise, I also learned that as an employer, you should not take your employees for granted.  In that one year I seriously grew up so much... no... seriously!

The next job I had was in my chosen career and when I left that job thirteen years later it was for personal growth and on good terms (I hope).

I still cannot eat at my former barbecue restaurant even though they're still around.

I do make really good barbecue though.  I think it's because I talk so nicely to my piggies!

"Swine Job" Part II

In a recent post I told you about how in 1992 I took a lackluster job printing for a large business.  It was something like being Michael J. Fox working in the mail room in the movie Secret of My Success in that it was absolutely nothing like that, but I liked to think of myself as Michael J. Fox whenever I was at work; that was my "happy place."

I wasn't at work as often as I should have been. 

Now, much to my chagrin, in that "job" where five of us did the job of one and we took turns each day with one of us working and the rest of us not, I was very bored and unsatisfied.  I was absent, quite frequently.  I justified my absences in that I wasn't goofing off, I was probably working somewhere else and I only called in on the days I wasn't supposed to be working.  I mean, yeah, I should have been at work, but as I mentioned before, just because we were at work, it didn't mean we were "working."

Also, I will remind you that this was a "budgeted" position that tied up money for this company until they found somewhere better to use it.

With all of that, I could completely justify my slack attitude, but in all honesty and hindsight, I handled it irresponsibly, I took it for granted and did not appreciate how lucky I was to have a job that worked with my school schedule.

Sooooo, after, nine months of me calling in sick roughly 4 times a month, I was "let go."  I like to think that it was because they finally found a purpose for my income and since I was the last hired I was the first.  However, it was most likely the absence thing.  Honestly, they never told me.  I got to work one morning (after an unscheduled day off) and the only other person in the office told me "We have to let you go.  We'll mail you your check."  They did.  It was short one day.  To this day, I do not know if I was fired or laid off. 

Regardless, I had learned a valuable life lesson in that I have since opted to respect all aspects of a legitimate job and not abuse my workplace (or co-workers).  The rude awakening really helped me grow up and build a work ethic fast... granted, it took some time to sink in.

I then spent two weeks unemployed and I have not had two weeks off since that time back in 1993.

By the end of those two weeks, I had become desperate and was willing to take any job out there.  I did just that.

Now, here's where I point out how much I hate the whole "twisting the knife" thing that happens sometimes.  You know where you screw up, get punished and then someone (perhaps your sister) keeps reminding you and everyone how much you screwed up and ergo they drag out your suffering for a bit.

Well, that is EXACTLY what fate had in store for me.

As if to drive home how much I had screwed up a good "cushy" job, the only job I could find next was as a cook in a fast food barbecue restaurant.  I'm not knocking either fast food or barbecue jobs, but if you put them together in one place... well, that's what I'm knocking!!!

The interview was odd at best.  It was as if I had walked into an Über Christian cult homestead (you decide what that looks like for yourself) with sky blue walls and people in sky blue and white suits walking around talking very softly.  It was the kind of room where you'd expect to find a Jim Bakker type curled up in a ball crying, next to a Jessica Hahn type.  Also there was Christian and Confederate literature on a counter by the front door. 

Outside the door it was the smokey parking lot of a barbecue restaurant.  Inside the door, it was all that in the last paragraph, plus some sort of joyful noise elevator music being played throughout the office.  It made me dizzy trying to comprehend it all, but I didn't care.  I needed a job!

I got the job.

They assigned me to a "Store" not too far from my residence and they taught me the basics.  Pretty much I shoveled hot cinders out from the bottom of a fire box and put those cinders into the bottom of one of three ovens.  The three ovens were all built together with the firebox.  It was all really well done.  Each oven had I think four racks that could hold something like 3 to 4 hams and had doors that were six to eight inches thick.  Flames from the top of the fire box rushed over the top of each oven.  So there was hot cinders at the bottom and fire at the top cooking the hams from both sides.

This was good stuff!  And the hickory smoke smelled good.... for about a day.  Eventually everything I owned smelled like smoked hickory.  Great when you're hanging with the guys.  Bad way to find a date.

I do not recall how long we slow roasted these things, but when they were ready, the meat would literally fall off the bone.  Then I was trained to carefully cut away all the fat and then chop up all the meat.  From then on it was referred to as chop. I learned to hate chop!

Oh yeah, we even advertised that we cut out the fat but after a few weeks on the job I was informed by my manager, and personally by the owner, to stop cutting out the fat.  Soooo, the fat stayed in. 

Did you ever see that scene in Carrie where she had all of that "stuff" dumped on her at the prom?  Well, here is a bad rendition of it.  I felt like that every day.  Not that I was covered in pig blood, but the fat.  SO. MUCH. FAT!!!  Seriously, I looked like I was trying to tap into my Italian roots my hair was so slicked back by the end of the day.  I do that intentionally some days, but not with pig fat.  It was awful.

This was a family owned business and the owners daughter was our assistant manager.  She was a very nice lady as I recall.  I think she resented that other men were hired to be managers above her, but these were guys with Business Degrees straight out of college.  I'm not kidding.  Manager's had to have a college degree.  However, they weren't family so they rotated a lot. 

We had one manager who was remarkably passionate about the place.  It was as though he had been brain washed to worship this place.  However, he didn't handle stress well and one day, he pushed me hard.  I'll get to that part later; essentially, I snapped and did one of the funniest things I've ever done in the work place and to this day I am amazed I did not get fired (again, later)!

We had another assistant manager who totally sexually harassed me.  I was 100% A OK with this! Kinda... She was a temptress and as country as the day is long (I don't what/ if that means anything, but it sounds country).  She was a little farmers daughter cutey and if she ever needed me to do something for her, she would catch me in the freezer, corner me and flirt.  She was married and absolutely nothing ever happened, but damned if I could resist doing her favors.  I'd get cornered and suddenly I was unloading pickles from shelves....  I dunno... She might've been a Jedi.  Maybe she liked her men slathered up in pig fat?

There were also a few college kids like me.  We were all very confused and broken.

Now I must say, I was equally inspired and confused by the man who managed the kitchen.  He was a black man and was in his fifty's.  He had been in the south his entire life and had grown up during the civil rights movement.  He had seen the worst of human prejudice and had lived through a time that I can never understand.  He had dealt with a pain that I am blessed to have never dealt with.  As much as I could empathize with him, I could never truly comprehend how he grew from his experiences.

Working in this kitchen, that I hated so, was his greatest accomplishment.  As he would say it, "Look at me look at me... when I was just a boy I wasn't allowed to come in the restaurant.  I could only order from the back door.  But now... now I manage the kitchen!  Look at me look at me.  Thank you Lord!"  I could never forget that.  His joy was the only thing that helped me stay focused in what I thought was an awful job.  To him it was a Major Victory.  He was David and this place was Goliath. 

I would honestly think that in that situation I would want nothing to do with the place.  I would leave it alone and let it rot.  But not him.  He needed his victory and his victory would hopefully inspire someone and heal old wounds.  It inspired me and I know that I could never truly understand his perspective, but I respected it.

And that was the only serious thing I ever felt in this job.  But I tried my best to display an ethic.  I only worked there for one summer and I never called in sick once... but I hated every day.

And once again, I have spouted off too much and must give you a break.  I am sorry that this has become a three parter, but I promise you that it is worth it... I'm going to try something new in my next post.

Try to contain your excitement!!!

The more I try, the more I have to do....

You know how you don't want to touch any of your wood furniture for fear that you'll make a cleans spot and then you'll have to clean all of the dust off of of everything?   The same goes with making a clean square foot on your child's bedroom floor. 

It often simply doesn't seem worth the effort.  If you make one clean spot then the rest looks messy and altogether crappy and then you have to do work.

So, I raked my yard yesterday. 

The leaves were like four to six inches deep in my backyard thanks to the two pecan trees and one pine in the back, plus an uncountable amount of azaleas and other weeds that have grown into full blown shrubs!

I started the backyard at 7:30 am and raked 14 massive piles.  The spaces between the piles looked FABULOUS!!!  As long as the piles were still there.

Honestly, I thought my yard looked great before raking.  I like walking through the thick leaves on the ground.  It feels as though I am walking through the forest on a cool fall day.  But, as it is my yard (and not a forest) and I have neighbors, I had to rake.

I loaded each pile into my garbage can and rolled them out to the curb in my front yard.  I managed to get 1.5 to 2.5 piles into each load.  I made a pile that was initially 4-5 feet tall in spots and over 10 feet long.  I say initially because once the leaves settled after a few hours, the pile was down to about 3 feet high.

Upon finishing removing all the piles, I surveyed my handiwork.  My yard now looks trashy to me.  There are small leaves casually strewn across my yard now.  These were the stragglers that slipped out and got away during my work.  It's too much to go back and get them and I don't own a lawn vacuum; yes, they make those. 

So, now I can see the trashy leaves on my grass, whereas before all I saw was a thick bed of leaves and no grass.  The grass I do see now is browning and not necessarily a consistent pretty green.  Of course there are green splotches, but that simply adds to the now trashy look I have created for myself. 

It's heartbreaking I tell you.

The front yard was just coated in a light dusting of oak leaves and the occasional magnolia leaf.  I used my lawn mower to suck up most of those leaves and redistribute what it could not catch.  No, a blower is not an option for me. 

So, I raked my yard to make it better.  Now it looks worse to me although I am sure it is better off.  On top of this, I am sore and I have blisters on my hands because, perhaps I am a big Nancy boy....

I walked into my house broken, sore, exhausted and distraught and saw some toys on my daughters bedroom floor and some clothes on her bed.  I left them there.  They looked fine the way they were.  god knows what I'll find underneath them...

Swine Job!!!

I've been reflecting a lot on my past lately.  In fact, I reflect on my past all the time.  So, I could've written this a long time ago and you'd be none the wiser.  So, you just gotta have faith that I wrote this recently.  Because, I totally did! 

It doesn't matter when I wrote this... seriously... I'm moving on!

I learn from most of my past mistakes.  Unfortunately, I cannot forget them.  I'd like to have my brain remember the importance of the lesson learned but forget the consequences that got me there. 

But that's not my point.

I'm going to tell you a story that taught me a valuable lesson about being employed.

In 1992, as a college student, I got a job out of necessity. The Production Studio I was working at had gone out of business, and that wasn't my fault.  So, I went to the campus career center and looked for a job.  I saw one that seemed to work with my schedule and I called the number.  They told me to come in at 9 AM the next day.

At 9 AM I showed up for the interview and they had someone give me a tour of the facility explaining what we did.  I was shown where micro-fiche was printed every hour, where the film had to be delivered throughout the building and then where all of the items that had to be printed on paper and distributed each day were collected, "burst," "enveloped" and shipped.   I was taking this "tour" for almost two hours before I realized I was not on an introduction to my interview but that I had actually been hired and was already on the clock.

I was surprised as this made me the fifth person in the department to do a job that one person could do easily.  I knew right then and there that I was not a necessary employee.  I was just a body meant to fill a budgeted position until the monies poured (more like dripped) in to that position were needed to be utilized in some other manner.  This made sense to me, but I did not respect it.

So, I did not show this job any manner of respect.  I did what was asked of me when I was there and I collected my check.  However, the key phrase was "when I was there!"  I worked three other jobs, or, should I say, I had three other sources of income at the time, of which all were musical.  I was a paid member in a church choir, I ran a sound system for my school and I was in a rock band.  In my mind, those were all more important than the stable but pointless day job I had just started.

I went on about my life as responsible as a 21 year old in a rock band could go, while working in a job he had absolutely no care for.  Seriously, there were five of us to do this mundane job and each day we took turns working.  One of us would work one day while the other four sat at a table and either read or did homework.  So, I called in sick... almost once a week.  I was irresponsible and damn near useless.  Again, I did not respect the job.

Lo and Behold, after about nine months of this, I was let go!  "Screw them," I thought, "I don't need that job"  I knew!!!

I was soooooo wrong.  It turns out, that right when they let me go, my summer had started.  No sound system school-gig during the summer; very few "rock star" gigs during the summer and the church choir was just enough for beer money (yup this is where I was as a not-yet-overly-responsible student).

I had rent and bills to pay too because wouldn't you know, my roomates moved home for the summer.  I had to get another job... AND FAST!!!  I ended up getting what I still consider to be the worst job EVER! 

Now before I go any further, to aid in my finances during school, I did many different jobs. 

I was:

1. A bag boy, which is not as glamorous as it sounds
2. A roofers assistant, shingling roofs on weekends at a discount
3. A carpet cleaner, which was awfully hot and miserable in the summer
4. A Tiler's assistant, I have tiled many a small bathroom
5. A sausage and cheese distributor, meaning I drove a van distributing well preserved sausage and cheese products of a particular company to stores during the holidays
6. An editors apprentice at a production house (that went out of business due to nothing I did wrong; I swear)
7. And the previously mentioned Musically themed side jobs and mundane printing gig

These were not glamorous jobs... other than the ROCK STAR gig (which still wasn't overly glamorous as I was not a star by any means).  But they proved that I was willing to do anything (legal and maintaining my dignity) to afford school.  I was making an attempt at being responsible, keeping in mind that I felt beer was a responsible priority! 

I had just been fired from a job. 
I was scared. 
I was humbled. 
I was depressed and it was my own fault. 
I was humiliated. 
I thought I couldn't feel any lower.

I was soooooo wrong!

However, I was old enough and on the verge of becoming responsible enough to realize that I had just been taught a very valuable lesson.  I learned that very rarely is any job going to be a wonderful job.  Very rarely will even a good job always be good.  I learned that any job (legal) is worth it if it is covering your bills and keeping you alive. 

Mostly I learned, that no matter what I think, I have to show up and do my job responsibly and professionally.  I have tried my best to follow this with any job I have had since and for the most part, I have done well. 

I've only had three jobs since I was "let go" of which the last two are in my actual chosen career and have carried me through the past 19 years.  However, it's that first job, right after my dismissal, that was awful.  It was my first attempt at "trying" to follow the lesson I had just learned about respecting and appreciating any and all employment opportunities!  I tried and I think I failed, but I could not get fired.

As I said, I didn't think I could feel any worse (lower) than I already had felt, but I was wrong.  After being let go, back in 1993, out of desperation I took the first job I could get. 

I'm sure there are worse jobs.
I know there are better jobs.
But this turned out to be my worst job ever.

I worked.... as... a barbecue cook....

Boy this is getting long winded... I guess this one will be a two parter... I'll let you know how it turns out later.

Ahhhhh Holiday Decorations.... GRRRRRRR

I decorated my house for Christmas yesterday.  I must admit, it's not as much of a thrill as it used to be.

When I was married decorating for the holiday was a "family affair (no pun intended)" and we would all contribute! 

HAH!  Who am I kidding?  I wasn't allowed to touch a thing and decorate the inside of the house for the holidays.  I was there to get stuff out of the attic, move furniture and put stuff back in the attic.  I think that is the role for many men (or non-decorating spouses).  Oh yeah, we're allowed to do lights outside, as long as they are properly approved. 

However, I could never get approval for the landing strip and lights that spelled out "SANTA LAND HERE" on the roof.  Now that I'm single, I just don't feel the excitement about trying that anymore...

I must admit, decorating is not my forte'!  Sure, I have stuff hanging around my house like my daughter's artwork, pictures of my daughter and swords, but, who doesn't have those things (their own daughters, not mine) hanging around.  I also have a lot candles.  I may also have a collection of hats and remote controls. 

Ahhhhh, the modern era where we must have a remote for every electronic device in the house.  The theory is that we don't have to get up and move to do anything, but the remotes keep being moved and so I must get up and find the remotes.  That there's irony!

Anyway, so yeah... I almost died getting five large bins of stuff out of my attic.  Although, I'm pretty sure I looked all cool, like Atlas, bringing those things down.  Had I died in the process, my dog, as she was the only one present, would have thought something like "he sure looked cool!"  Followed shortly thereafter with "how do I get to my treats now?"

I couldn't find anything holiday related to watch whilst decorating the tree so I simply took a shot in the dark and flipped to a random channel.  Luckily I caught a movie that was just starting and would take two or so hours which should get me through the process. 

So there I was rolling the piano out of my living room into the dining room to make room for the tree whilst watching Boogie Nights; a holiday classic!  It's right up there with "It's a Wonderful Life" in the holiday happy film genre if you ask me.  Please don't ask me!  Actually, the movie was on for maybe thirty minutes before it dawned on me what I was actually watching.  I do feel a little awkward about this.  But hey, it was just me and the dog didn't care!

In fact, I think my dog was more in awe that I single handily built a TREE!!!  That must be extremely amazing to a dog when it's Master looks like Atlas (in his later years) and then makes NATURE in the house!  I know she sees me in a new light and is more and more intimidated by me!  She watched me as I fluffed and inserted every branch of my oh-so-not-real tree!  But she didn't care.  It had that new tree smell that only a dog can truly enjoy.  I thought it smelled like year old attic myself.

After creating nature and coating it with multi-colored LED lights, I then unloaded two more containers of just stuff to put around the house.  I wish my child had been with me, but she was not.  I did save the tree for her to decorate with me, but I took care of the house.

Around the house, she has certain things that must go in certain places, so I followed her guidelines as beast as I can remember.  I have a few snow globes.  The all go around the entertainment center.  Her thinking is that they are pretty and should be near the TV where we are looking a lot of the time.  My thinking is that they are full of water and should they break... NEW 3D TV FOR CHRISTMAS BABY!!!

Then I have a few Nutcrackers.  They are soldiers and they are there to protect the Baby Jesus.  So, yes, all Nutcrackers go around the Nativity.  It's as if the manger is surrounded by giant nut crushing Transformers! Yeah, it's pretty cool.

Then there's all the little things that as cute as they are, and have so many memories attached to them, ARE A COMPLETE PAIN IN THE ASS TO FIND PLACES FOR ALL OVER THE HOUSE!!!  They go in the book shelves, hall shelf, bathroom cabinets, kitchen window, on top of the fridge, on top of the hutch..... they go all over.  I was exhausted when I finished. 

The dog just sat like a Sphinx staring at the tree... worshiping it.

Now that that is all done, I can relax inside my house.  I'll get to the lights this weekend (sorry neighbors)... they do get kind of bright.

But tonight, I will come home to well decorated house with the tree all aglow (it's on a timer).

I hope the dog doesn't pee on the tree today while I'm gone.....