While I was back home visiting, one of the first things my older brother asked me if I had traded in my car again for something new. I'm just like my father. When he was alive, he couldn't keep a car for more then 3 years. A new model would come out and he just had to have it. His words were to me, "Plan on always having a car payment for the rest of your life". Guess I've taken that to heart. Every three years, I'm ready for a change. My roommate also recently mentioned the same thing and had asked if I was going to go Jeep Wrangler shopping soon. I'm on the fence about the whole idea. Maybe I'll wait for the new 2005 Mustangs.
Thinking about cars lately and the anniversary of my Dads passing coming up has caused me to remember one of the only father and son activities he and I ever did. We fixed up vintage Mustangs together. He would spend hours teaching me all he knew about an engine and how to fix it. He taught me how to care for a car and treat it like it was your baby. My father would work on the outside of the cars and I was taught to restore the inside. Once I hit 15 years of age, he gave me my first Mustang to drive. It was a pale yellow 1967 Coupe. I was the envy of a lot of my classmates in 9th grade. It wasn't long and someone wanted to buy the car so we sold it. My Dad always had another one waiting in the wings for me to drive. I was given a 1965 Fastback, 1965 GT, 1968 Fastback. We probably had on an average of 5-7 cars being worked on at any given time. All in all, I was probably given 5 cars to drive throughout Highschool.
The next to last one was a 1965 Mustang Coupe. A little old lady (who wasn't from Pasadena) bought it brand new and wrecked the front end in 1969. She parked the car and never drove it again since that day. The car had only 19000 original miles on it. We were both salivating just looking at her. She became mine not long after that. She was MY baby. It wasn't six months and someone approached my father and I over lunch and said that he would write us a check for 15K right there on the spot for her. My heart sank. My father looked at me and said, "Son, it's up to you." Jokingly, I said only if I can have a convertible. I wasn't serious. I knew this was a lot of money and we could find another car and fix it up just as good as this one. I gave the guy a call.
I'm not sure how he found these deals, but the next afternoon, my father comes home with the car you'll see below. She was a 1968 Mustang Convertible with a Pony Interior. Of course it wasn't in mint condition. She needed a lot of work. My dad knew this guy who had this convertible and that he was very hard up for money. That never stopped my father from taking advantage of the situation to buy a car. He offered him $500 dollars. The guy handed him the keys as he cursed him under his breath. Six months later after a lot of painstaking hours working side by side in the garage, this is what she looked like. I drove her throughout college and gradschool. She was so much upkeep and I had bills to pay. I put an ad in our local paper and sold her for 20K. I cried as he drove her away.
If heaven is a perfect place designed for each specific individual, my fathers heaven is full of Mustangs.
Big hugs Pop.
I'm laughing so hard I'm pissing my pants. Well, not really but I'm close to it.
Check out this item on Ebay. You only have an hour to bid on this guys!!
As the duplex mates and I sat in the living room chatting away, it didn't take long for one of to suggest going out for a couple cocktails. I didn't want to go and was practically dragged out of the house kicking and screaming. It had been a while since just the four of us hung out together. Which is probably a good thing. We tend to get into trouble.
A few months back, I slept with a guy we hang out with on occasion. He's a very handsome guy, blue eyes, beautiful silver hair, goatee, early 40's. Quite the woofer I must say. It was one of those nights where he can't drive home and asks if he can crash on our couch and have me take him to his car the next morning. This guy has always told me that I was his type, showering me with compliments and kisses while at the bar. I knew where his request to "crash on the couch" was leading. Who am I to turn him down. It had been so long since I had someone in my bed I almost forgot what it felt like. They say it's just like riding a bike. You never forget how. Guess that saying is true. I just have one thing to say about the evening. If you're not going to kiss me, you might as well pack your shit up and get the hell out of my bed. Needless to say, there were a few tense moments. 'Nuff said about that.
Anyhoo, last night was the first time I've seen him since that night. We barely made eyecontact. He gave me a quick pat on the back and went back to his conversation with friends. I decided to be the bigger man of the two and later went up to him, gave him a hug and asked how things were going. WHY are men like this? It takes so much fucking effort to avoid someone and be awkward then it does to just deal with a situation and get it over with. Grow some fucking balls is all I have to say on the subject.
We all proceeded to the new little semi-outdoor, glassed in patio area of the bar. They have some laser light show which makes the walls look like rippling water. We dubbed the new space "The Aquarium". My friend invited some lesbians to join us in the Aquarium. I didn't think they thought it was very funny. We did.
It only took us 2 hours to become just obnoxious and silly as hell. As we were leaving the bar, driving through the gayborhood, a friend who shall remain nameless was yelling "NICE ASS!!" at the people walking along the street. I have to say that the 85 year old woman, the homeless man and the utilities worker didn't find it very amusing. Half way home, we really turned up the fun a notch. We drove into the new parking garage that was recently completed at Southwest Airlines. They have MILES of moveable sidewalks with this incredible artwork on the walls that changes as you move by. Yeah good times. See what all of you have to look forward to if you come visit? Never a dull moment with this crew.
Telling people that they had a nice ass ended on a sour note. Another friend who shall ALSO remain nameless (Troy) yells it to this very hot latino STRAIGHT man in the alley of our block. He wasn't pleased with the compliment that spewed forth from my vehicle. He hops in his car, parks behind our garage, then starts circling our house. If you don't see any entries here after a couple days, you can safely assume that I've been murdered.
It was great knowing you all.
First and foremost, please take time out of your busy schedule and check out my good friend and a fantastic blogger, Brian over at Cheap Blue Guitar. He's started a series called "Interview with the Blogger". The lovely and irresistible Zenchick was his first interview and now me. It felt so "Inside the Actors Studio" for a while there.
I know you're going to be blown away by the next tidbit of information. You might want to sit down.
The deodorant I've been using since I was 15 years old has stopped working. Out of the blue. Just like that. Not one word of warning. No fuck you I'm leaving, kiss my ass, I'm outta here........nothing. I told you not to leave your seat. Two hours after application and I smell like rank butt. I know some people like the smell of rank butt so for you, I'll bottle this fragrance and send it your way. Has my body changed all of the sudden? Am I going through some sort of male menopause? Do I have such an over abundance supply of testosterone that my sweat glands are working overtime? Maybe I'm just a male in heat and I can start using this as a way of marking my territory. I highly doubt it on all accounts. Well, except for the male in heat part.
Has my toothpaste stop making my teeth their pearly whitest? Has my neutrogena soap stopped making my skin soft as a baby's bottom? Has my aloevera shaving cream stopped giving me the most kissable cheeks on the planet? Have my Ginger flavored Altoids stopped making my breath minty fresh? No I say, they haven't! Ok, my Oil of Olay cream hasn't taken away one fucking wrinkle but I digress. Everything else hasn't stopped working so why my deodorant? I'm one of those people that absolutely HATES change when it comes to something like this. I didn't even know where to start! So I went out and bought Right Guard EXTREME Sports deodorant yesterday. Holy Crap that shit's good. Makes me want to take up some kind of sport.
Maybe I should just pretend I'm French and say Fuck You to rose petal smelling armpits. No, I couldn't do that. Don't get me wrong, the thoughts of having hot butt munching, headboard banging sex with a cute sweaty man after he's been out working in the yard or doing some sporting event is kind of a turn on. That manly "funk" to a point, can be mesmerizing and cause me to go weak in the knees. Do not confuse this smell with bad body odor. There's a huge difference.
Hey Jimbo, Johnny or Crash, whatch'all doin' right after your next rugby practice?
I made it back on one piece. My trip home was was uneventful. It was nice to see my family. Although, this trip had an uneasiness about it which I can't seem to put my finger on. Everyone seemed preoccupied and busy. Tempers flared and arguments ensued. I'm not sure what was going on, so I spent many hours by myself. Upon my arrival, I was greeted with a good ol' Nebraska thunderstorm, complete with heavy rain, lightening and tornado sightings. This continued throughout my entire visit. I forgot how amazing it is to see a storm approaching as I looked out the front porch of the farmhouse.
Since most of my family forgot that I was in town visiting, I spent many hours driving around town which I hadn't had time to do before. I'm not going to bore you with pictures of the house I grew up in, my gradeschool, junior and senior high schools or the old German Five and Dime Store I would visit with my father when I was growing up. I even visited my old college and spent hours talking with former professors about the past, viewing and discussing new artwork and talking about the future. I spent one afternoon walking around campus taking pictures. I almost developed whiplash from jerking my head around checking out all the campus hotties. I know I got caught gawking a few times.
The trip for me was kind of a bust. Except for finally meeting this this little bundle of gas. Sunday while at church, Peyton lets out a fart that lasted at least 15 seconds. The loudest and longest fart ever produced from a baby's ass. Oh, you should have seen the proud father. He was beaming. My Niece on the other hand was absolutely horrified. She ran out of the sanctuary with him and never returned. Not sure she'll grace the doors of the church ever again.
The night before I was able to spend some time with my Nieces, their husbands and their kids watching The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Don't worry, the women and children ran upstairs once the movie started. My Great Niece Camron finally warmed up to me for the first time, but was always leery. It seems I couldn't be trusted unless I had gum or candy. My name was "HEY" the entire night. She refused to say my name.
But I have to say I have a new love. Her name is Avery. The entire trip was worth the two hours I had her asleep on my chest. I wouldn't trade that moment for anything in the world. I know I'm never going to have one of my own, so I have to live vicariously. Talk about another bundle of noxious gas. She farts in her sleep.
Glad to see the newbies are following in the family footsteps.
I woke up last night around 12:30am, 3:30am and 5:00am usually from some strange dream. I even had one where I was arguing with the giraffe from the Toys R Us ads because he ate everything in the buffet line. Of course, each time I woke up from a dream I had to pee. You know us boys and what happens from REM sleep (and I don't mean the band). Man, if I could just pee doing a handstand. I'll let you think about that one for a moment.
I always wear myself completely out before going on a trip anywhere. Whether or not it's a short 4 day trip or a longer full fledged vacation, it doesn't matter. Monday night, I spent the evening doing 4 loads of laundry, bathed the dog, cleaned my room, picked up a birthday gift for my Mother, went to get dog food, copied a few cd's for the road and also cooked dinner. I was so pooped I could barely keep my eyes open last night.
Today I'll be getting my oil changed over my lunch hour, finish up everything that needs done at work, head to the grocery store after work and pick up fresh grown Okra and something here in the south they refer to as Chow Chow (some sort of spicy southern relish). Both are for my mother. I need to pack my clothes and clean and fill up the car. Wednesday I'll be waking up around 5am and drive almost 9 hours home.
Are y'all tired yet? I know I am. I'm beat. Why I do all this before I leave is beyond me. I'll be back blogging Monday morning hopefully with some pictures from back home. If I can get access to a computer while I'm gone, I'll stop in for a quick hello. Hope everyone has a great rest of the week and a fantabulous weekend.
Have you gotten rid of the mental picture in your head of me doing a handstand yet?
After all my options Saturday, I didn't end up doing a damn thing all day. Spent the afternoon watching movies. Around 6 o'clock, I received a phone call from a friend asking me to meet him out for cocktails. Well you don't have to ask me twice.
I arrived around 7pm and we hung out at the bar sitting next to a couple in their mid to late 70's. They would chat with us ever so often. We would help them get the attention of the bartender who seemed to not pay attention to them at all. If you're not young and pretty it's easy to be ignored in our community sad to say. All these men wanted was a little conversation. It was cute to watch them check out every single man that walked into the bar. I wish we could have chatted more. I could only imagine what these men have seen and gone through being openly gay men in the 1940's and 1950's. I had so many questions.
As they were grabbing their canes and getting ready to leave (after way too many cocktails I might add), they came over for a hug from each of us. The older man of the two, leans over and actually says, "Can I have a kissy-poo before I leave?" His voice was frail and his body had a slight tremble as he held himself up with his cane. I was thinking, well sure why not. He leans over and plants one right on my lips. Thank God there was no tongue. He leans back with a big ol' grin on his face and said, "OH, MY!" He yells to his friend that he got a kiss from the bald guy. I laughed my ass off. Meeting someone like that makes me stop and wonder what I'll be like when I'm that age. Will I be hanging out at a bar? Will I have someone by my side? Will I be telling kids half my age what it was like during MY day? Will I even be around?
Well that was enough to make me want to do a couple of shots and get totally trashed that night. I was in a funk all weekend. Things I would rather not discuss openly. Sunday night just made me realize that things don't always turn out like you want and when they don't, you have to move on.
Thank goodness I'm heading for Nebraska on Wednesday for some quality time with the family for a few days.
I'm about due.
Ah yes, Spring is in the air. I've just received a freshly shaved back and shoulders, eyebrow plucking and a tiny little trim 'down there'. (Sorry Jimbo, if I don't, even YOU would have trouble finding me under all this hair. Chest hair I left alone just for you) I'm getting ready to hop in the shower then shave. I've laid out my favorite pair of A&F Cargo Shorts and tanktop. Dug out a stylish pair of sunglasses that would make Carson from QE proud. I've even picked out my favorite spring type cologne.
It's sunny and 85 degrees outside with a slight breeze. I'm thinking that a nice lunch somewhere, sitting on a patio sipping margs sounds perfect. I've been invited to a Southwest Airlines Chili Cookoff (40 kegs, lots of chili and hot men) or to the Fort Worth Arts Festival (lots of artist, tons of food....and hot men). My problem is that I have no clue to what I want to do today. I just know I can't be sitting inside. I can't make up my mind. I have a feeling that I'm just going to be finding a patio and getting drunk.
I'm in that mood.
Our illustrious I.T. Department......assholes. I.T. should stand for Idiotic Tools, since that's what they seem to be. I tried to open up the various blogs I read on a daily basis this morning and I get the following message:
"The Information Technologies Department has deemed this site to be unacceptable for the workplace. If you feel this site should not be blocked, please contact the following people, blah blah, fucking kiss my hairy ass blah."
Now I have to wait until I get home everyday to ready y'alls entries. I'm going through withdrawal.
*starts pouting*
UPDATE: I figured out, that any website address with the word BLOG in it is blocked.
Yesterday was payday for me. To which I have to say, it couldn't have gotten here any quicker. Sometimes this boys budgeting skills just go right down the crapper. Normally I'm pretty good, but once in a while I just plain suck at it. After going through a rough few days before payday, I always swear to Jebus that I'll never ever do it again. Kind of what I do when I go out and have too much to drink.
Last month was also our annual performance review. We are rated on some suckass point system. I received 4.82 out of a possible 5.00. The only thing I have to say about my raise, despite my high performance rating, is that now I can finally biggie size my order when I go through Wendy's drive thru. Sometimes you just want to tell them to take back their money and shove it up their ass. Probably not a good idea though.
I remember back in the good ol' days, when I was able to work overtime and actually got paid for it. Our CEO would come around after we've put in a lot of hours and just hand us an extra $100 for a great weeks work. They would reward us with a substantial raise every 6 months if the company was doing well. Times have changed. Only way to get a decent raise or have extra cash is to find another job, get a part-time job or start prostituting myself. I'm too lazy to attempt any of those three.
The radio show I listen to sometimes during my exhausting 7 minute drive to work, had on Troy from The Apprentice. He stated on The Early Show that he was "As happy as a puppy with two peters". It's obvious that during Troy's interview on 106.1 that he had a list of at least 10 corny phrases to use. It was completely scripted. Of course the press has had a field day with him saying that and many other phrases. I guess radio morning shows are trying to jump on the bandwagon. They had a game today called, "Tell us if Troy said one of these following three phrases."
I find myself saying odd phrases that many people deem as "southern". Damn we get blamed for everything down here. I put together a list of sayings that have been known to come spewing forth from my lips. I blame my mother for this.
1. I'm gonna to slap you naked and hide your clothes.
2. It's slicker then snot on a doorknob out there today.
3. It's as cold as a welldiggers butt out there.
4. Well that's worthless as two tits on a boar.
5. Oh he's so stupid, he wouldn't be able to pour piss out of a boot with the directions on the heel.
6. I'm as tired as a one armed paper hanger.
7. He's as worthless as hen shit on a pump handle.
8. I'm as fine as frog hair.
9. Don't make me open up a can of whupass.
10. I'll slap you clean into next week.
11. That's as hard as trying to herd cats.
12. He fell out of the ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down.
13. Don't need a weather man to tell ya how the wind blows.
I'm not joking when I say that I use these frequently. It makes me sound like a big ol' goober doesn't it? Do you have any phrases you find yorself saying? I know Myke has to have a couple.
Meetings are worthless. You sit there discussing what you talked about during your last meeting and decide what to discuss on your next meeting. People go off on tangents about what they did the previous weekend, who serves the best Kung Pao Chicken or who got voted off American Idol. There's always someone in the room yelling, "Focus people!!" No one listens. No problems ever get resolved. More problems to fix are always found. It wastes an hour or so out of your day and you have an hours worth of work to catch up on. Thank God your VP doesn't ask to see your notes since you did nothing but create a fabulous piece of artwork on your memo pad while she rambled on about company sales figures. It's also a good thing she didn't ask your opinion on anything since you weren't paying attention anyway. Does she realize that I've counted the number of times she puts her hair behind her ears while she talks? Can people tell that my nipples are so hard they can cut glass due to the sub zero temperatures in the room? I wonder if she would get pissed off if I left meeting to go pee. The most important thing we accomplished is deciding where to go eat lunch on Friday.
Can people see the "I don't give a shit" look on my face?
It's a good thing they bring Krispy Kreme Donuts, otherwise meetings would be a complete waste of my time.
Last week I received a phone call from my Mother. She was her normal talkative, perky, laughing every minute Mom. Right in the middle of our conversation she said, "Oh by the way, the Doctor found a lump in my breast so I have to go in for a mammogram and biopsy next week. Thought you would want to know." Then she proceeds to tell me about her day. I had to stop her midsentence and ask her to slow down and tell me this important information again. She was very nonchalant about the whole thing. She mentioned that at the age of 76, she's never had an exam or mamagram. Ever hear a son lecture his Mother? Funny how our rolls change as we get older.
Due to my HIV medications, I developed lumps myself last year under both nipples (I'm not big enough to have manboobs) and had to go in for an exam, mammogram and to have fluid withdrawn. Nothing like being the only male sitting in a room with 30 women waiting for your breast exam. If I could have crawled under the chair in a fetal position when the nurse called my name, I would have. I'm sure most of you know I'm pretty slender. Do you know what it takes to get my nipple pinched inbetween that vice grip of a machine? Let me just say I had bruises the next day. The young girl was very sweet about the whole thing and told me that I shouldn't be embarrassed and that she has probably 2-3 men come in a week. I know it was just me being paranoid, but I felt like every woman was staring at me wondering why in the hell was I there. They were all walking around in their smocks with nervous looks on their faces. My feelings for what women go through completely changed after that. I'll never understand what they go through for a papsmear thank GOD, but mammograms....I'm with ya baby. Then again, men have prostate exams I guess. Some of us tend to like those though. I chalk this whole thing up to being one of the most embarrassing moments in my life.
Luckily my lumps were nothing to worry about and eventually went away. Yippeee.....just another side effect of a drug. My mother called me yesterday and told me not to worry anymore. Her test came back negative. What a huge relief. As I sat there lecturing her about the importance of having a breast exam every year, she told me that my sister has never had one either. She's 56 years old. She even went with my mother when she had her exam last week!
I can't wait to go home in a couple weeks for a visit and have a very long talk with her. After having prostate cancer run rampant in our family, I'm not even going to talk about how often my brothers have an exam.....or have ever even had one.
I really don't understand my family sometimes.
Yesterday morning as I was sitting on the couch minding my own business, I saw something literally fall from the sky and land in our back patio. Let me remind you that our patio is a nice size, but overall it's not a huge back yard area. I'm thinking a branch fell or my dog climbed up on top of the roof of the garage and tried to commit suicide. I go out back and I see a Mallard Duck waddling around about 4 feet from me. I was careful not to get to close. I have a fear of birds. I'm worse then Tippy Hedren.
I ran inside to yell at G and T about the duck. You would think I had never seen a duck before in my life. As I walked back outside to find our little feathered friend, I didn't realize that two females (they're not pretty like the males *ahem*) had hidden themselves around our potted plants. I'm walking back towards G and T's place when they decide to "take off"as I walked past. Just picture me with my hands and arms flopping around trying to protect my head and face while I'm jumping up and down screaming like a scared little girl. G and T come out with a camera to take pictures. Luckily they didn't witness this behavior.
I have a reason for being this way. When I was about 7 years old, my parents bought me a parakeet. After forcing him into his cage once we got home, he was fluttered around like crazy. He was scared. As I was watching him, all the sudden he hits the side of the cage, wings spread in almost a crucifixion like stance. How appropriate this story is with Easter being just yesterday. He stayed like that. Frozen in time. Then I see blood trickling down his back. It seems that a piece of metal was protruding inside the cage and he impaled himself while flying around like an idiot. My mother rushes to the kitchen to get a towel. My face was splattered with a little blood since my nose was about an inch from the cage. I didn't realize that at the time. My parents took the cage with the bird stuck to the side back to the pet store with me sobbing uncontrollably. I really didn't want a bird at this point. Go figure.
A few years later, I was attacked by a mother bird that was protecting her babies. The little bastards were probably 30 feet in the air, but for some reason she thought I was a threat. My head and face was a scratched up mess. Even back then I was running around screaming, "NOT THE FACE!!!"
My last run in with the demon animals from hell, was an Owl that had taken up residence inside our garage. I guess I scared him and he decided to attack the intruder. Do you realize how big their claws are?
At least my fear of birds is not as severe as my fear of horses or any sort of amphibian. Another post for another time.
I hope everyone had a pleasant Easter. That's if you celebrate it at all. We were actually going to be playing it pretty low key until one of our sisters while in a drunken stupor decided to cook dinner. Thank God for Alcohol.
Before our late lunch while the boys were cooking, a few of us decided to relive our childhood and decorate some eggs. Luckily we decided against hiding them and having an Easter Egg Hunt. Not sure what the neighbors would have thought about a bunch of 30+ year old men looking for eggs in the front yard. Maybe we should have gotten drunk first.
Others decided to lounge in the living room with the dogs while we played.
Afterwards, we sat down to a nice dinner of roasted chicken, ham, fried okra, grilled asparagus, mac and cheese casserole, mashed potatoes and home crescent rolls. The evenings entertainment was watching our duplex mate T ravish a creamcheese filled black forest cupcake like he was eating.....well, we'll leave that up to your imagination.
I topped off the evening by wearing a cross on my forehead in honor of Easter. I'm so going straight to hell.
I've been chatting recently with Spyke about him wanting a dog. Yesterdays entry was a post of him bearing his soul talking about the lost of a pet and his love for dogs. Often I've also chat with Zenchick about her loss of Reggie a little while back. Do we ever really get over the loss of that first pet? Once I got home, I dropped my stuff and searched for my shoebox full of old pictures and had to find pics of my first dog Church.
While rummaging through the dusty boxes, I found a black and white pic of he and I. Damn, I was young. I also found a pic of him at 2 months old. After Church died, I was bought two more Chows by my family. Bless their hearts, they meant well. The last thing I needed only a few months after he had passed away, is two more dogs. I named them Syn and Max. I couldn't handle having both of them and gave them to good homes in the country after only one year. I didn't get a dog again until I bought Palin almost 8 years ago.
In other news, I'm a Great Unka Mawk again. Seems my Niece is capable of giving birth to a monkey. It's Planet of the Apes all over again. I'm kidding, she's a cutie. Looks just like her mama did when she was born.
I'm not going to turn this blog into a recap of nothing but reality shows outcomes, so don't worry. That would be boring for me and you.
But did anyone watch The Swan last night? I'm not at all into reality TV, but I'm totally hooked on this show after one viewing. Ok, I know we need to examine our culture when we have shows where we take women and completely redo their face, bodies, boobies, hair, teeth and the way they dress. They put them on radical diets and make them do a workout that would put me in the grave. We put so much emphasis on physical beauty and shows like this do not help. Every part of my being agrees with this philosophy.
Well fuck that thinking. I couldn't take my eyes off this season opener. When they were hacking into their body, sucking fat out of hips, inserting fake titties and attaching new teeth, then and only then would I turn away. I have a very weak stomach. I get light headed when I have blood drawn. I can't even handle sitting at the dinner table when someones eating a rare steak. Watching liposuction drove me over the edge.
The two girls transformations were pretty good. I'm actually hoping that one of the girls tells her husband to go to hell. He was an ass. I guarantee there will be quite a few divorces due to this show. One of the girls got chosen to compete in the final pageant at the end of the series. One girl is selected each week out of the two.
They make matters worse by bringing in their families to see their 'Swan' for the first time in 3 months. I was a blubbering idiot by the end of the show. I'm a sensitive person, what can I say. I even got teary-eyed at the end of the movie Hellboy.
I can tell The Swan will be my guilty pleasure.
I'm not sure what I would have done if I had the chance. Maybe shave a pound off my nose. Would you go under the knife and have anything about your face or body changed if you could?
Can someone tell me why that red headed crooner with the horrible voice and stage presence of a wet mop is still on American Idol? First thing we do here at work on Thursday mornings is bitch and moan about the Wednesday nights results show. We have no life.
Have you also heard that Nick Lachey and Jessica Simpson are going to have their own variety show? *blank stare* I was a fan of The Sonny and Cher Show, Donnie and Marie and could even stomach Shields and Yarnell. The only way this show is going to make it is if Nick is buck ass naked the entire hour. Now that I would watch. He doesn't even have to do anything. Just stand there. Maybe he could pinch his nipples, rub his crotch.....whisper my name............tell me what a bad boy I've been..........
Shit, forgot what I was doing.
Ever have one of those songs that you just can't get out of your head no matter what you do?
At least the boys are really cute.
I think I have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. After I put up an entry, I'm constantly going back ever so often and re-reading it to make sure that I didn't spell something wrong, use improper grammar, sounded like a complete idiot or basically had my head shoved so far up my ass that I didn't know what I was saying (SEE? Spellcheck said that was too long of a sentence and now I'm paranoid). I swear to Jebus that I tweak most entries at least 5 times. I've decided it's a sickness. I need help. I even question Spellcheck. It's obvious that I'm not a Pulitzer Prize winning writer. What? You mean you didn't know? I guarantee that this entry and every one prior to it has problems.
I've never considered myself a writer and I still don't. I'm just a guy who has never had a dull moment his entire life. I like to recreate those times and pretend as if I'm telling a good friend a story. I come from a long line of storytellers in my family. We're all known for sitting around the dinner table, bullshitting about the past, making fun of each other or telling something that happened to us recently. We're known for rambling, interrupting each other and being very animated when we talk. We love teasing each other and telling everyone the family's most embarrassing moments of their life. No one in my family is shy or hides anything. We like to talk.
Anyone meeting me in NYC in May should start preparing themselves now. Did I mention that I talk more when I'm nervous?
If you see an error in an entry of mine, just email me a pleasant little note saying I fucked up and that I should have my testicles cut off. I promise to be nice and will thank you for catching the error. Be prepared for me to return the favor.
I can already tell that I'll be editing this entry the minute I post it. Is anyone else this bad?
(1st Update: correction made 9:03am)
(2nd Update: correction made 9:12am)
After running errands over lunch, I noticed something and had to mention it. It has to be a requirement to drive a beer truck that you be hotter then hell, have a great muscular body and sport a goatee. I passed 3 beer truck drivers today and if I could have thrown the fucker in park and mounted those boys like a rabid monkey right there in the middle of the street, I would have.
Afterwards, I could have thrown back a couple brewskies.
I was thinking today about friends and how often my group of friends change, multiply or dwindle within years or even months. Then I stop and remember the friends that I've had since I was 5 years old, since college or since graduate school.
I have a good friend that I made growing up in the church. I was a ringbearer and she was a flowergirl when we were 5 years old. We seemed to be the only kids around that age and were the perfect age for every wedding that came up. We were in a total of 7 weddings up until we were approximately 8 or 9. We were inseparable all the way through Junior High, Highschool and even when each other went off to college. Hell, I just talked to her a few days ago, 33 years later. There are a few others from around the same time, that when we see each other, it's just like time has stood still. We get caught up in each others lives, promise to keep in better touch and part ways. Doesn't mean they're not as good a friend as they were before.
I haven't really kept in contact with many people from Highschool. That time of my life was not a pleasant time ro me, and to be perfectly honest, don't want to be reminded of it. I did go back to my 20th Reunion after a lot of convincing and got reacquainted with a few people. Again, we promised to keep in touch. Have I talked to any of them since last year? Not once. I didn't put forth an effort and neither did they.
I had two best friends while in college. Everyone else seemed to be nothing more then a causal acquaintance, choir or studio friends. I didn't have time taking 18 hours a semester, studio time, choir, voice and piano lessons and working a part time job to have a social life. My best friend through this time, eventually went to away to grad school, got married and now has 4 children. I still consider him to be my best friend although we talk maybe once every 2 years. We cry every time we see each other. Friends for life.
Then came Graduate School. I met the most wonderful girl who became my best friend instantly. I remember the first day meeting her at the glassblowing studio. She had pink and black stripes in her auburn hair and funky clothing and we usually didn't have the same opinion on anything. I remember thinking, Oh I can never see us hanging out. Boy was I wrong. She became my soulmate if you will. I chat with her often, think of her always and miss her constantly. I can't wait to see her again. The strange thing is, another friend of mine during that same time, I never speak to at all and I felt almost the same about her. Funny how things plays out. My roommate B, I met while in school during this time, and 12 years later we're still living together. No wonder people assume we're a couple.
I moved to Kansas City eventually and made so many great friends. More than my fair share. I talk to only one of them now. It racks my brain to try and understand why. Again, maybe I think too much.
Finally we arrive in Dallas. It took a while to make friends once I moved here. I had never experienced anything like it in my life. Making friends had always been second nature to me. Why was it so difficult? Maybe it was a test. I finally met a group of guys and my little social circle grew from there. Two years later, they had either moved away or we just grew apart. Then a new crowd of friends start to emerge. Out of this enormous group of people, a select few became what we would call, "our sisters". I know, how gay is that, but they were our second family. Even this group that has known each other for the past 5-6 years has gotten smaller and smaller over the years. We're not hanging out as often each other. The phone calls are becoming fewer.
I'm not at all saying that we're not going to remain friends, I'm positive that we will, but it seems that there is change brewing again.
My friend Myke over at Mezannine wants to try to meet me in NYC when I'm there May 21-24. If there is anyone out there that wouldn't mind letting him crash on your couch for a couple nights, I'm sure he would greatly appreciate it. I personally would vouch for his character and say that you are completely safe from being hacked up into little pieces in the middle of the night by him. Give him a holla if you can help a fellow blogger out.
It's Monday.
I'm tired and I'm cranky. I want to be home with my blankie.
That rhymed and I didn't even try.
Be back later.
One day God was looking down at Earth and saw all of the rascally behavior that was going on. He decided to send an angel down to Earth to check it out. So he called one of His angels and sent the angel to Earth for a time. When he returned, he told God, "Yes, it is bad on Earth; 95% are misbehaving and only 5% are not." God thought for a moment and said, "Maybe I had better send down a second angel to get another opinion."
So God called another angel and sent him to Earth for a time too. When the angel returned he went to God and said, "Yes, it's true. The Earth is in decline; 95% are misbehaving and but 5% are being good." God was not pleased. So He decided to E-mail the 5% that were good, because He wanted to encourage them. Give them a little something to help them keep going.
Do you know what that E-mail said?
Yeah, I didn't get one either.......
It seems that I have a few Bloms (blogger moms) and Bladdys (blogger daddys) out there. Makes a guy feel special. I guess it is rare when I don't post during the week. Weekend post are here and there. Nothing consistant. I tend to be running around so much on the weekend I never have time to put up an entry. So don't worry Bladdy Spyke, I'm alive and kicking.
I don't know about you guys, but I'm so ready for the weekend I can taste it. Mall Guy and I will be spending some time together. Hopefully I can talk him into seeing the movie Hellboy. Maybe I can convince him to do a little shopping. It was how we met after all. I'll make him hold my man-purse while I'm going through racks.
Also, a good friend of mine that moved here from Kansas City when I did 8 years ago, called me up this week and wants to spend some time together. It's been quite a while since we have seen each other. Next to Zenchick (aka, My Blewish Blom) of course, she's always been a good Jewish Mother to me. We have quite a long history together. My mother back home took comfort in knowing that I had someone who is like a mother to me while in Kansas City and here in Dallas.
I'm hoping to take her to a few galleries, the Dallas Museum, Dallas Aquarium or maybe the Dallas Arboretum. Anything to just be able to spend some quality time together and get caught up in each others lives. If the weather doesn't hold out, we'll just spend the afternoon eating and having a few cocktails. I know she loves a good Margarita as much as I do.
So again, thanks Bloms and Blads.
If I don't talk to some of you, hope you all have a great weekend and stay out of trouble.
