Sad but True!

I can't really write this week for reasons I'll explain later. So, I thought I'd post this image on my Facebook page, but it was too large.

I must say that this is so correct in how, as technology has advanced how we communicate, it has hurt communication to a certain degree.

The image says it all:

I'M ON A TEAR... about paper products!

Okay.... I've had it!  I'm angry!!!

WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?!?!?!  Or, more like, PERSON!!!

Granted, there either has to be a lot of people just like you, or you are somewhat omnipotent with the ability to visit every bathroom I "visit," either public or in a business, pretty much anywhere in the world I've ever been!

No seriously... How is it that every bathroom, meeting the previously mentioned criteria of being either public or in a business, manages to have the toilet paper, loaded in the metal box of forward facing toilet paper, loaded backwards?

First off, I must explain that I AM talking about the tp dispensers that can hold two rolls that face forward, meaning the dowel holding the roll is parallel to the wall (much like a standard home tp dispenser but in a metal casing) and when one is depleted the other one simply falls into place.

I am NOT talking about those big circular ones where the rolls are sideways and you may have either 4 to 6 single rolls in the big circular casing or one giant roll made of sandpaper.

So, I am talking about the metal box, dowel parallel to wall, one drops when the other is spent tp dispensers.  Just so we're clear.

HOW THE HELL DO THEY KEEP GETTING LOADED BACKWARDS?!?!?!?!?  By backwards I mean that they are loaded into the metal casing (with the dowel parallel to the wall) in a manner that as you unroll the roll, it can actually slip from the top behind the dowel and into the case instead of rolling from the top out of the front of the metal case LIKE THEY'RE SUPPOSED TOO!  Does this make sense?  Rolling down from the front should be correct.

Let's face it, NONE OF US want to have to waste time digging for tp from the back of the metal box when you need it MOST!!!

How does this keep happening?  What idiot does this to all of us all the time?

Now, to make matters worse, I think this is the same idiot who feels that it is absolutely necessary to load as many of those paper towels into the bathroom paper towel dispenser.  Surely, you know what I'm talking about?

Once again, it's a metal casing (box) with a key hole at the top and a gap at the base for tiny brown (sometimes white) almost legal envelope sized folded sheets of paper towels to be pulled from.  No, I don't spend a lot of time in fancy shmancy bathrooms with blow driers for my hands (as well as for the crotchal region of my pants for when "the sink sprays me").  No, I spend my time in a working mans' bathrooms with overly packed paper towels.

So, some yokel feels that they need to cram two or more packages into the casing.  So, when I try to pull out one brown folded legal envelope sized paper towel, I get either chunks that I almost blistered my fingers trying to pull out, or I get anywhere from 5 to 16 of the damn things!!!!

WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH THE PERSON WHO DOES THIS?  ARE YOU A CRAZY PERSON?  Or, is there some sort of Bathroom Paper Products Gnome?  Does he travel the world to torment us?  Does he do this to mock us and fill us with anger?  Or is he testing us to see if we are kind and patient people?

I DON'T WANT TO BE KIND OR PATIENT IN THE BATHROOM!!!!  I WANT OUT!!!!

That gnome is probably the same s.o.b. who make that thing that happens with regular paper towel rolls....  You know that thing?  You know, you grab the one paper towel you need and you do the quick little paper towel tug that we've all been unwittingly trained to do since childhood where you quickly snap your wrist and one sheet tears off of the roll.  But then... then the "thing" happens.  You know, you're in a hurry, or in a crowd and people are waiting for you to move.  You grab one paper towel and you do the wrist snap and suddenly, EVERY DAMN SHEET OF PAPER TOWEL IS NOW SHOOTING OUT AT YOU AS IF SOME DERANGED PAPER TOWEL SHEET CANNON IS GUNNING FOR YOUR SOUL!!!!!!

I....  I might.... There's a small chance that I hold some resentment for paper products.

I think I'll stop here.

Technology is soooo stupid.... When I say "WHOA TECHNOLOGY," I MEAN WHOA!!!

Sometimes I truly hate technology.

Seriously.  I remember wanting so much to have a TV in my bedroom and then when I finally got one, I suddenly stopped talking to the person I shared my bed with every night.  We just started watching TV in bed and stopped talking to each other until we fell asleep like we used to. 

That wasn't what I wanted.

I remember so much wanting a cell phone!  "MY GOD!!!  I CAN TALK TO ANYONE FROM ANYWHERE!!!"  Now, I don't want to be able to be reached at all times.

I never wanted the fax machine, and I still don't like them or trust them.  I put a piece of paper in a shelf thingy, it gets sucked into a scanner thingy, then I push a dial the phone number button, the scanner proceeds to scream at me with high pitched clicks and whinnies, it spits out my paper, then I hear some other awful high pitched noise and then, VOILA!  Maybe it went through, maybe it didn't?  Maybe the person on the other end got it, maybe some other office drone on the other end saw it and tossed it away.  Maybe they didn't have paper loaded into the thing and so Tom Cruise had just enough time to sneak his brother out of  a prison and then jump out of a window.  I DON'T TRUST FAX MACHINES!!!!

But, today's post isn't about fax machines.... no... It is about the curse of technology and computers especially.  No, I am not going to go into the grand scheme of how computers may or may not be harming humanity.  I think humanity looks for ways to harm itself all the time.  Computers are just another way of doing that.  Eventually we'll have something like "COMPUTERS ON JET SKIS" to add to the whole virtual reality excitement to physical harm ratio.

No, today's post is me ranting about why today's post is what it is and isn't what it was supposed to be!

Perhaps you'll recall this post from last week: MOO-1 (My Offensive Opinion: Group 1).  If you don't recall this one, that's because, only 8 people read it.  I thought it was good.  Yet, apparently not.  Anyway, it got to be so long that it had to be turned into a two parter.  So, on the same day I completed MOO-1, I completed MOO-2. 

I was quite proud of myself.

Now, I pretty much try to post two blogs a week as of late and as I posted MOO-1 on Tuesday, and Valentine's Day was Thursday(and truly deserved a post dedicated to such a day ) I opted to hold MOO-2 off until today! 

So, last night, I was making a few last minute revisions to MOO-2.  At the same time, I was working on a very sweet post about me getting all mushy over how much I love my kid.  I really do love her so. 

MUST. FIGHT. BACK. THE TEARS OF MUSHINESS!!!

Anyway, I had written out some text and had copied and pasted it to the post about my daughter.  Then I went back to MOO-2 and made a few changes.  Then I went back to the Daughter post.  I made a few typos and did the whole "CTRL-Z" thing to make corrections. 

I CTRL-Z'd about 8 times and was finally back to the original pasted text on my daughter post, which is where I wanted to be.  Then I hit "SAVE."  At this point, the world went in slo-mo, but I could not stop my forefinger  from clicking the mouse and saving my revisions.

Some how, I was no longer working in my daughter's post but had been transported back to my MOO-2 post but with the copied and pasted text from the mushy post about my kid.  I never CTRL-A'd (highlighted all) my MOO-2 text and I never CTRL-V'd (pasted) the mushy text into MOO-2, but there it was.  And now, my original many many many pages of text for MOO-2 were gone.

I've no idea what happened.  But alas, I currently have two matching posts about my kid and one of them is just wrong.

I got very upset and drowned my sorrow in a few rounds of Words With Friends. 

I will eventually get back to re-writing MOO-2(explaining the significance of "MOO"), but alas, right now, I just need space.

I'm going to go climb into bed and watch TV.  Maybe I'll call someone on my cell phone.  I have a house phone line right next to my bed, but, it is just too far to reach for.  Seriously, I'd have to roll onto my side to reach it and I'm just not up for that right now.  My cell phone is just too damn easy.

Screw (cut, strip, clip, file, open, thread, filet and scale) VALENTINE'S DAY!!!

What is Valentine's Day to me, you might ask?

Seriously... someone ask.

I could be negative and say the traditional things like "It's a disappointment," or "It's a reminder of how empty our lives are," and "it's a relationship day of obligation" or even the mas supremo negative comment of "it's a danged Hallmark holiday" (which it really kind of is)!

I could go all historical and be all researchy and say things like "it was some sort of Holiday regarding St. Valentine" which makes it a good day to make a martyr of oneself.  And it is also apparently a good day to wipe out your mob nemesis.  But noooo, researching and typing out actual facts just ain't* my style!

*Please note that my use of "ain't" is not typical of me.  Even though I live in the South (East) I have been able to use neither "ain't" nor "y'all" seriously in conversation.

So really, I'll just go with my opinion on the day, which is what I'm sure you all wanted to know when you started flooding me with the question "hey dude, what is Valentine's Day to you?" 

Well.... I don't know.  I haven't really thought about it that much.  You've really put me on the spot with this one.

I think, as with most "holidays," as I've grown older, it has become yet another day of reflection for me.  I guess it is a point of reference for me to look back at and see where I have been at this time each year.

But, is it really a holiday?  I am not entirely certain about that.  It's a Feast Day in the Catholic Church.  And it is also a Saints Day which apparently means that if you've given something up for Lent, you can TOTALLY HAVE IT on that particular day... So, Valentine's Day is the one day I can have a CHEESEBURGER* during Lent... that is until St. Patrick's Day... GIGGITY!!!  But I have to believe that there is more to a "Saints Day" than that.

*I am NOT going to go into detail of what I have given up for Lent.  As it turns out, I try to do more Church related stuff than I actually give up and do without during the holidays.  So.. just leave me alone.  I don't have to explain myself to you.  Just let me enjoy my Cheeseburger and be on your way!

Yes it is a day that I do think about that special someone in my life and send her something to tell her that I do in fact enjoy spending time with her and would like to spend more... so at least I covered that much, right?  But, I want her to know that EVERY DAY!  So then I feel like a mindless drone for giving her a gift on Valentine's Day as if to say "Okay, I'll make the sandwich today.  You've got the next 364 of 'em to do now?  We're good, right?"

As a kid... whoa... this day is BIG TIME!!!  Kids are stoked for a good week or two before the holiday waiting to find out just who really likes them.  These days we parents have to decorate a box to send to school with our children so they can properly collect and manage all of the assumed loot that they will (damn well better) receive.

Man, I remember Valentine's day as a kid.  I loved getting all of those awful tasting, but oh so rewarding, "Be Mine" candy hearts.  And then there's all the cards from your classmates.  WHOO HOO!!!  Of course, I would hand out a few (just a few) " I love you.  Do you love me?  Circle YES of NO" cards.  Sadly, 99.9% of the time the girls would write on the card "I love you in God's way!"  DAMMIT!!!!

But, no, we had no box to carry our pride of love cards and candies (or dismal shame of lack of loot) home safely.  I guess box technology in the 70's just wasn't what it is today.  I wrapped a HUGE box for my child to collect her loot in.  Yes, she reminded me afterwards that I had to cut a hole in it for the loot to go in.  "CUT A BIG ONE DADDY!!!"  That's m'girl!

Now, as a Father, Valentine's Day is a day to make sure my child knows how much I love her (but I try to do that EVERY DAY) and so I give her a card, some candy and a rose.  I AM TOTALLY SETTING SOME YOUNG MAN UP WHEN SHE IS OLD ENOUGH TO DATE!!!  And I am totally fine with this.

But yes, most of all, it is a great excuse to give someone you love something that says how much you love them.... right?

I have to say that, I think the best Valentine's present I ever got was this:

Just slip it in to it's leather case and... PURE SEX APPEAL!!!

Seriously, I've had this thing for going on two decades.  It has helped me move six times, build bookshelves and other things, cut tons of rope and open lots of beers and several letters and show it off to people... and open and close it a lot... and ... well... JUST LOOK AT HOW COOL THAT IS!!!!  It really is rather cool and it is the longest lasting useful gift I've ever had for any reason.

I was actually given roses once.  They could NOT cut through anything and they only lasted a few days.  Actually six of them went pretty quickly.  As it turns out, they don't open beers very well either.

But that's irrelevant.  Most of all, for me it's just another day to appreciate those people whom I cherish in my life, and for this year in particular, Valentine's Day is....

A Thursday.

MOO-1 (My Offensive Opinion: Group 1)

With this post, there is an ever so slight possibility that I am going to offend two different groups of people.  One I will offend by what I say and the other I may offend by what I have.  I must say right now, that my intention is not to offend anyone, but sometimes, it just cannot be avoided.  I am speaking solely out of my personal experience.  So, I will start off by saying to these two groups right here and right now, "I'm sorry."

With that....

I don't mean to sound racist, but (isn't that pretty much the most racist way to start any topic?)...  Well, in my experience, WHITE WOMEN JUST CAN'T CUT MY HAIR RIGHT!!!!  There... I said it.  I feel better having gotten that off my chest.

Now, please don't get me wrong.  I'm not saying that ALL white women can't cut my hair, just the one's that I have had cut my hair.  In the past, Latina women, Asian women and African-American women have almost consistently always given me a very good haircut; exactly what I am hoping for.  HELL, even white men have given me good haircuts.  However, almost all of the white women in my life seem to fall short.

I say "almost" because I have found that if I go to a high dollar salon and pay a high price, then yes, those white women have done fine by me.  But, they cost too much.  I cannot justify having a high price white woman trim my hair.

See, when it comes to my hair care, I am both ignorant and cheap.  So, I go to discount hair cutteries and I have no idea what lingo to use when I get there.  I am pretty much of the mindset when it comes to the cosmetologist cutting my hair that "you work with this hair... I just wear it!"

So, yesterday, I walked into my discount hair cuttery.  I walked in and was promptly greeted by an African-American lady with her hair cut like a Mohawk (not spiked) with a pony tail.  She looked great!  I liked the contradiction expressed by her hair versus the business suit looking outfit she had on.  This was a classic don't-judge-a-book-by-its'-cover type look.

She turned to me and said "I'll be with you in just a second" and straightened up her area.  I was thrilled.  I looked down at my phone and when I looked up, a little white woman was standing before me and asking me for my information.

"Oh please be the receptionist" I thought to myself, but I knew better.  In this place, the ladies cutting the hair handle the desk.

"Come on back with me" she said.  I followed, staring longingly at the Mohawked business suit lady.  Here's where I should have said "but... her... I want her," but I didn't want to offend the white woman and I didn't want to mess up what may be their office rotation.

I sat in the chair.  The lady about to cut my hair asked me if I still had my hair cut the way they had it registered in their system.

"Still a scissor cut?"
"Yes"
"Still like it straight above the ear?"
"Yes, but I do like the way my hair looks right now over my ears."

When I sat down, I had bangs that, when pulled straight, could reach halfway down my nose.  I had hair over my ears that maybe covered the first quarter inch of my ear tips as they sat naturally feathered back, but, again, if pulled straight would go halfway down my ears.  Also, when I looked at myself in the mirror, I could just see the hair on the back of my head growing out enough to just rest on my shirt collar and be visible under and to the sides of my ears.

I really liked my hairs length, but it was starting to become bushy and unmanageable.  I just wanted to have tips trimmed and my hair thinned out a bit.  So, I mustered up the courage and spoke:

"But, I really like the way my hair looks right now.  I just need the tips trimmed and the whole thing thinned out a bit because it's starting to become a little unmanageable."  I felt such pride in myself for having the gall to actually ask for what I wanted.

She replied "Okay, sounds good.  Please look down."

Then I heard a long drawn out "Snip" and suddenly my left ear was freezing.  She had just lopped off about an inch of hair over my left ear thus cutting a somewhat straight line in my hair over the ear.  At this point, I knew it happened again.  There was no point in stopping her.  I just need to ride it out.

By the time she was finished, I had a nice even haircut, but it wasn't what I wanted.  She cut my bangs!  I like bangs.  My bangs don't even reach the part of the nose that meets my forehead.  Is that the "bridge" of my nose, or just the top?  I'm not good with nasal references.

It isn't this bad, but this image does capture both what I think it looks like and how I feel about it.

It's not that she is bad at cutting hair.  Again, at the very least, I have a clean professional looking haircut. It's just that, I think she simply gave me the only haircut she knows.  I need her to know more!

Now, at the very least, I am quite comfortable with the belief that whatever the person cutting my hair might mess up, it will always grow back.  And right there is where I tend to offend the second group... Of course, that's only if I haven't already offended the second group.

Aaaaaaand... this is going to be a two parter... sorry.

I shall crush no more heads!

Here's a fun thing to do with one of your child's classmates that will greatly impress the friend and make your kid think you are the coolest dad around:

CRUSH THE FRIENDS HEAD!!!!

Now now now, don't get me wrong, I'm not telling you to harm the child or even make contact with the child.  No no no, I am telling you to close one eye, look at the kid with your open squinty eye and use your thumb and forefinger, from whichever hand you choose, to simulate pinching their heads off via your perspective and their distance from you.

DO NOT ACTUALLY PINCH OFF THE CHILDS' HEAD!!!

See, for those of you not in the know, there was this great bunch of Canadians out there who called themselves "The Kids in the Hall."  They had some brilliant comedy sketches back in the day.  One of them was this:

You can also thumb out their faces so you don't see them or you can put up four fingers and lock the kids in jail!  It's so much fun to do this!

So, there I was, standing in the hall at my daughter's school, waiting for lunch.  Some kid approached me in the hall.  "Kids in the Hall" I thought to myself!  "I will crush his head!"  And so, I did.

Well, he ate it up! Shortly thereafter, my child came out in the hall and the previously head crushed boy showed her what I had taught him.  She ate it up and gave me the BIGGEST HUG!  I'm sure she was totally thinking "My Dad is SOOOOOO cool what with how he makes my friends laugh by crushing their heads!"  She and I went off and had lunch and I thought nothing of it.

A few days went by and I was driving down the street in my neighborhood and there was the boy, off to the side of the road, crushing my head as I drove by!  OH IT WAS ON!!!!  I pulled over and I "thumbed out his face" and said "I CAN'T SEE YOU!!!  YOU'RE NOT THERE!!!" and then I held up four fingers and said "NOW YOU'RE IN JAIL."  Oh we laughed so and my daughter, in the back seat, was having a giggle frenzy.

Such happy, happy times!

The next week, I went back to school for lunch and the boy started crushing my head again.  And so did all of the other kids in the hall.  Oh it was a joyful head crushing onslaught of happiness!  I had given these kids the gift of head crushing!!!

This went on each and every time I visited the school.  Oh what fun!  But then, I got a dirty look from a teacher.  She said nothing, just a look.  But we all know that look.  This particular teacher is probably a good 20 years younger than me, but that look she gave me almost brought me to tears.  Instinctively I found myself thinking "Oh God, please don't make me bring a note home for my Mom to sign!!!"  It was that severe of a look.

Then it dawned on me, I only experience this every once in a while.  The teachers are seeing this every day and the head crushing movement seems to be growing. 

I have to put a stop to this.

But, it won't stop.  I can't get within 50 yards of the school without someone crushing my head through a window.  I went to mass a few weeks ago and a kid started crushing my head from one pew over.

Heck, look at this YouTube page.. IT NEVER ENDS!!!

WHAT HAVE I DONE?!?!?!?!?

The kids still love it.  They all do it like little mindless zombies.  They filter out of their classrooms on their way to lunch as if they are staring in a Pink Floyd music video about bricks.  In my peripheral, I can see them, lumbering from side to side as they alter foot to foot... with no expression on their faces... their right thumbs and forefingers poised delicately in front of a squinted eye as they all crush my head...

The teachers all just give me a tolerating look that says "I know you didn't realize what you were doing, but now do you see what you've done?  Do you?  DO YOU?!?!?!"

There's one father who has completely stopped talking to me.  I can only assume he is tired of having his head crushed at all hours of the day.

It's awful I tell you.

I did not know what power head crushing could have over the kids.  It really was an awful amount of fun... in the beginning... but now, I fear we are doomed as a race.

I'm sorry.

High Fives and Stitch Pimps!

This time last year, I had what may be considered by some to be a "minor" surgery.  Well, I'm here to tell you, that as it was my first time getting stitches for anything other than an accident (aka doing something stupid that most likely started out with me saying "Hey Dudes... Watch this!), this was MAJOR surgery.

The nurse gave me something and told me that they were NOT putting me under!  I said I did not want to remember this.  They looked at me as though I was a pansy.

I was.

They wheeled me on a gurney into the surgery room, asked me to slide onto the table and then asked me to slide off of the table and back onto the gurney.  Then they wheeled me into the recovery room. Apparently, between sliding onto the table and off of the table, someone moved all the clocks ahead 45 minutes and removed a lump from my wrist.

I remembered nothing.

I spent the next few days living on my couch while my mother and daughter tended to me.  When I was finally able to move about and start getting back into some of my normal routine I noticed two significant things, A.) the kids at my daughter's school were more cruel than I had expected and B.) the doctor who had performed my surgery just might be a deviant.

As far as the kids go, well, at least every other week I go to my daughters elementary school to have lunch with her. And at least every other week, as I wait in the hall for her class to go to lunch, every kid in her class slaps me a “High Five.” This amounts to 60+ high fives in a five minute time span (I use very much hand sanitizer after this ritual each and every time).

Most of the kids give a gentle tap, but some really put their all into it! They await that oh so important affirmative “OW NICE SLAP” that I'll yelp so that they know how cool they are and that they can totally overpower an “old man.” One day last year (still recovering) when I joined my child for lunch, there were no high fives as my arm was still wrapped in bandages and in a sling.

Seeing my arm in a sling and not getting their high five fix, most of the kids seemed nervous and uncomfortable; afraid to speak to me. After ten or so minutes passed, when we were all sitting at tables in the cafeteria, a young boy at a neighboring table turned to me and looked.

He was kneeling on his seat and leaning across his table to talk with his classmates who were positioned similarly in their seats. As if breaking from the huddle he walked up to me in a nervous and unsure approach. Addressing me as if he were the spokesperson for all first graders, he asked:

“Excuse me sir? Did... did we break your arm slapping you so hard?”

I imagined the guilt this kid and his peers must've been feeling. I worried that they may be so uncomfortable thinking that they had done this to me. As I considered the best way to explain what a cyst is and how the surgery was performed, I simply decided to myself “Awww screw it!” and I looked at the young man and said “Yup, you guys did this to me!”

As I chuckled softly with a sheepish grin, he turned to run back to his table. Before I could tell him the truth and free him from what would surely be gut wrenching guilt, I heard him say:

“YEAH WE DID IT TO HIM!!!!” followed by a round of high fives and “AWESOME”s.

Touche' kids! How could I have forgotten the joy of maiming adults?

Now, as best as I can tell, the doctor who did my surgery is a good doctor and I have been pleased with what he has done for me. So, by no means is what you are about to read a complaint; it's just a very true and very odd observation and theory. No names are being used here, you know, to protect the innocent.

Two significant points he made in my self care/ healing of the tissue, were that I must massage the incision point to stimulate healing and that I should continue to wear my ace bandage, whenever I am active, to protect my wrist.

However, he added for each point, in his very fine and strong Indian accent, “you can get the ladies to massage your wrist” and “when you wear that bandage, some girl is going to feel sorry for you and want to help you.” He said both with a very cocky grin and a mild chuckle. All that was missing, was an “awwww yeahhhhh bro.”

Then it dawned on me who this doctor may very well be. See, he's all about the ladies, he's Indian, and he obviously made enough money at some point to put himself through medical school. He may very well be that gentleman from the back alley in the 80's classic movie “Bachelor Party.” You know, the guy who supplied all of the “working girls” for the party at the hotel? I'm so proud of him for turning his life around and doing so much good with the money he made.

If only I had been able to find his assistant, “Milt,” then I would've known for sure!!! Okay... one name was used.

"Thees beeing Milt!"

Ahhhh... what a difference a year makes.   The kids at school still high five me, but I fear them just a bit.  And I still have a sexy scar on my wrist for the chicks to dig.

Nobody digs it....

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.