Sunday, February 27, 2011

Mother Nature Has Gone Rogue

I don’t know why this winter needs to be so god awful long, but apparently, Mother Nature has cancelled Spring.  AGAIN.


I’m fed up with you, Mother Nature.  We’ve been at odds since oh, I’d say about October, and I’m just tired of asking nicely for 5 full days of sunshine.  It can still be cold, I don’t mind the cold, I just miss the sun.  Cold isn’t too bad, when you can look upward and get warmth on your face. You know, that big orange ball of light behind the layers upon layers of blanketing gray clouds you’ve sent our way?  Stop bogarting the melatonin, bitch!  It’s not all about YOU, okay?  Some of us pale pastey-skinned humans NEED to see the sun, and benefit from it’s rays on occasion.  Even when I’ve got SPF 50 and my big sombrero looking gardening hat on, I still like to get a little color from my knees down to my shoes.  And occasionally on my forearms, when I’m not wearing my protective armor jacket on my motorcycle.  No, a farmer’s tan is quite okay, I’m not asking for the aged leathered old lady in Miami skin.  Just a little color would be nice.  And no, gray is not a color.  Not for skin tone anyways.  I’m so white I’m almost clear right now, for chrissakes.

All I’m trying to say is that we like to know that the sun is THERE, so we can actually go out in it when WE want to.... It’s not something you can just take away and never give back to us.  Hey, we devoted alot of our youth to that damned ball of fire, remember?  Lazily sunbathing on the front of the boat on Lake Cumberland?  Yeah, that was me.  Shirts and skins pick-up hoops game at the school yard?  Me, again.  Frisbee in the back yard with Dad that one summer when I got the big sunburn blister the size of Rhode Island on my shoulder that my sister thought it would be funny to pop by slapping me really really hard?  You guessed it, me.  A crying, whimpering me, but nonetheless, I liked being out in the sun until I burnt like a french fry.  Do I even need to remind you about all the drunken outdoor rock festivals?  You were there, you remember, I’m sure...
All I’m asking for is one more chance to look like a raccoon one more time.  I like wearing my Oakleys all summer, you know.  Just asking for a chance to do it in the next couple of weeks, old girl.  What do ya say?  Maybe you could throw us a solar bone?  If not for me, do it for the little bunnies.  I wanna see the little wild bunnies hop across my lawn, because they’re just so snuggily and cuddily cute and adorable.  Come on, do it for them.

Saturday, February 26, 2011

And The Award Goes To.....

So this chicka Hannah, dropped an award on me, because she's got a big crush on me an stalks my page like I'm made out of chocolate filling. I graciously accept my award, and pass on the required information below... THANK YOU HANNAH!!

To accept the award, I am required to write seven things about myself, eh?  Well this will be difficult, as I am in witness protection, and cannot divulge too much personal information. Here goes!!

1:  I believe in reincarnation.  I have to, I’ve screwed this life up pretty bad, so I’m hoping for a do-over.  No really, I’ve been here before.  Why else would I have no patience for stupid?

2:  I believe we are all created in God’s image.  Some of you were created when God was hungover.

3:  As a dear friend recently revealed, yes, I was in marching band in high school. And orchestra. And jazz band. And symphonic band. And a rock band. And a country band.  Call me a band fag, and I’ll do pentatonic triplets ON YOUR FACE.

4:  I am pro capital punishment.  I am also pro corporal punishment.  I think the latter helps prevent the former.

5:  If I ever went to Sturgis or Daytona Bike Week, I would actually ride my motorcycle there, not put it on a trailer and haul it.  Because my motorcycle already has EFFING WHEELS on it, and that’s why it also has a seat.  SO YOU CAN RIDE IT.

6:  I wear my hair cut short.  Real short.  Razor cut short. In the shower.

7:  I like long walks on the beach, Fuzzy Navels, snuggling under a blanket by the fire, and my favorite movie is Death Proof.

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Where It All Started

Ive been trying to think of where my love affair with writing began.  I’ve tried over the years to come up with silly little stories, and it’s been fun off and on to see what comes out of my head.
Some months ago, I was encouraged by a dear friend who pointed out that I should be writing. She felt that I had enough skill, and why not try writing, and share your observations and humor with the masses? She was, and still is, my muse, and an ardent supporter. I will be eternally grateful to her for pushing me to try writing again. She is very dear to me......

When I set out to do this blog, I chose to take a road less traveled.....  There are some wonderful storytellers out there in the blogosphere, and I admired their ability to spin a tale.  So I said, “Why not try that path?”  Come up with two stories a week, create them, edit, and post.  So far, I’ve been generally satisfied with my efforts.

I started to think about when I first remember enjoying writing.  It had to be freshman English class in college. (there were to be no more English classes after that one, I ran out of money for tuition)  Our professor asked us to write a “process paper”.  We were instructed to describe in detail, the process of doing something.  It was up to us to decide what that process would be.  We would edit our papers twice weekly in class, switching with another student and helping them by editing their paper for them.  Pretty simple stuff, even for freshman English.

My professor questioned me each editing day, asking me, “Where is your paper, sir?”  “I will turn in a completed paper at the end of this exercise.”  He was not happy, because with an even number of students in the class, I was the wrench in the works!  I’m throwing off the whole system by not having a paper to edit!

The morning it was due, I sat at the typewriter (that’s a thingie that people used to write with before these here lappy toppy thingies.) and prepared my outline, according to the requirements for the class.  I then typed my paper, off the top of my head, and hurried to class, arriving only a few minutes late.  My professor scowled as I flopped into my seat, and handed him my paper.  He rolled his eyes as he said,  “Are you satisfied with your submission, sir?” I nodded yes, with my cheshire cat grin.

The following week, my paper returned to me.  I received an A- for my last minute efforts.  The topic of my process paper you ask?

“How To Procrastinate While Writing An English Paper.”

Monday, February 21, 2011

I got nuthin'

I never do this.  I've got nothing saved back, and I've got nothing to write about.  Literally.  It's either rain, sleet, freezing rain, or snow storms, so no outside activities, unless you call falling on your ass on the way to the car an activity.

This is a rare occasion, minions.  I will get back on track in a day or so.  I've been arriving at work in the dark, and going home in the same, going on 3 weeks now.  Sleep, laundry, work, repeat.  I'll get back to normal in a few days, now that I'm coming up on a couple of weekend days off.  Oh, okay, just one, but I'm planning on catching anal glaucoma on Friday.

See you soon.  Miss you all.

Thursday, February 17, 2011

Lemme Talk To The System

On the phone with the bank, and it went a little something like this.......

I’d like to stop payment on a withdrawl from an internet website.  I bought some parts for my bike, but the first order said it didn’t go through.  I went back to re-do my order, and apparently, they both went through, according to my online bank account.

“You need to contact them to have them stop the inquiry on your account, Sir.”

I did contact them, and they said to contact my bank.

“There isn’t anything I can do for you Sir, it’s a debit transaction”

I understand that it’s a debit transaction, I’m asking you to stop ONE of the identical payments to the SAME vendor, it should be pretty easy to just stop one of them, shouldn’t it?  I mean, it’s my money after all, and I’m asking you to do this one thing for me.

“The System won’t let me do that, Sir.”

The System?  The System won’t let you?

“Yes, sir, The System will not allow it.”

Well then let me talk to The System.

“Sir, The System is our computer network.”

Well aren’t you sitting in front of a computer terminal?

“Yes, of course I am.”

Well then tell The System that since it’s my money, I would like one payment stopped.

“The System won’t allow me to do that Sir.”

Then put Tron on the fucking phone, and I’ll straighten it out with The System myself, since you’re obviously not capable.

“Would you like to speak to a supervisor, Sir?”

No, I’d like to talk to Tron, because apparently, he’s the only one who can get things done in your organization.  Apparently, humans don’t run your joint, The System does, so put The freakin' System on the phone.

“I’ll put you through to a supervisor.”

Long pause with no hold music. The System must have turned it off.

“Supervisor blahblahblah, how can I help you Sir?”

I would like to stop payment on one payment inquiry on my account.

“Okay, is it one of the two that I see here that have identical numbers to the same vendor?”

YES! (*head explodes*)  Why is it that YOU can do it, and the customer service agent can’t?

“She’s not allowed access to that part of The System.”

We’re back to The System again, aren’t we?

“I’m not sure what you mean.....”

Is your name TRON?

“No, Sir, my name is Tran.... It’s Tran, Sir.....”

Um, yeah..... Likely story.  Well, thanks for doing what your customer service agent wasn’t able to do.  That’s 40 minutes of my life I can’t get back.  You guys oughta let Tron run this System of yours, he’s more accommodating than you jagoffs.

“…... You’re welcome Sir.”

This is why I’m on medication, and I don’t own a gun.

Monday, February 14, 2011

VD Part 3

A truly remarkable group of people who stop by here and check in every now and again.  It seems that my little poem that I submitted for a blog challenge last week stirred up quite a little buzz.......
So, for Valentines Day, I have this to offer for you, my minions.  It’s something I really spent quite a bit of time on, and I’m hoping you all like it.  I’m very certain it will make you smile.  Enjoy.

Sunday, February 13, 2011

VD Part 2

Thank you my responders and lurking readers.  I was very interested to see where this little idea would go......  So now, I answer, as promised.....

The previous post was based on a a conversation I had with 3 women a couple of summers ago.  All had been through the wringer emotionally, and felt that there must be something better.  Someone posed the question, “But what if there isn’t?”  We all laughed, then frowned, then sighed, as we wondered, “Could that be true? It can’t be, can it?”

We want to think of love as being just like the nice little package of chocolates sitting on the counter.  It’s pretty, it smells delicious, it’s full of variety. (Unless of course you just bought the chocolate covered cherries, which is totally okay, if that’s how you like it.)  That box of chocolates is great!  Look at how many different ways you can have chocolate?  Life truly is like a box of chocolates.... We look forward to each days’ adventure.

Here’s what I wanted to see:  Romance and love are on everybody’s mind this weekend, with the biggest Hallmark holiday of the year on Monday. (I’ll be spending Valentines Day getting a complete physical, with blood work and a prostate exam.  Hope I get kissed first.)  I wondered what people might have to say about that “crazy little thing called love”.

I must say, I am most impressed with you readers who chose to post.  Wonderful words from each of you!  But I found a common thread.....   There’s MORE to life long love than fireworks, fireflies and tequila.....  It is full of moments that you might read in every blog across the interwebs..... Dirty diapers, leaky roofs, the car breaking down in the middle of nowhere.....  But it’s also full of stories about extending a welcome hand, a shoulder to cry on, a positive voice encouraging you to ‘do the hard thing’ when the easy thing would be to give up.

We, as humans, have the desire to be passionate about something.  Maybe it’s your hobby.  Maybe it’s your blog, or coaching little league sports. Why not be passionate about all those little things that make up a great relationship?  It appears some of you are, as you laid out your perspective on that exact topic yesterday.  It’s passion that we look for, and it’s different for each person, and each couple.  It’s passion that makes us savor every moment with our significant others, as it may be our last chance to soak in a sunset with them.  We are passionate about spending time WITH them, no matter what we do together.  We are passionate about them, as we are their cheerleaders, their therapists, their best friends, and their favorite comics, when they need a little laugh.  Love is complicated, volatile, confusing, frustrating, and so worth it!

Saturday, February 12, 2011

VD Part 1

Overheard while talking to myself the other day......

Is love finite?  I mean, is it within the realm of possibility that we as humans only possess the ability to only love a finite amount of people throughout the course of one lifetime? (I’m all for reincarnation, btw)

"It is better to have loved and lost, than to never have loved at all."  Is that true?  I mean, is it possible that we, after a certain amount of times of giving of ourselves to those who we have loved, and cared for, and shared our most intimate thoughts, that after a certain point, we are no longer capable of fully releasing ourselves to another.

That moment we feel when we KNOW we are falling hopelessly in love with another.  The feeling rushes over you, your face blushes, you feel lightning shooting out of your fingers and toes... That one singular memorable moment.... Are we only to experience that a limited amount of times?  Can one run out of love?  Can you only have your heart torn out so many times before it just STOPS giving itself away again?
Now I’m not talking about, “I really see myself spending time with _________ for the rest of my life.”  That’s companionship.  A vital component of relationships, but not LOVE. Well not completely, anyways, a small part of it perhaps.

Not “She/he makes me feel so good when I’m with them.”  That’s mutual respect, and paying attention to detail, and genuinely caring for another human being.  Frankly I think people should do that more every day anyhow.  Not enough mutual respect in this world if you ask me.

I’m talking blinding over-the-top love that makes your knees weak, and your tummy full of butterflies when you see your lover walk into the room.  THAT’S what I’m talking about.  Can it be that we run out of that feeling?  That it just goes away, and we’re just “Eh, yeah, glad you’re back from the store, honey.  Dinner ready?”  Do we just get complacent and ignore it?  It starts to fade after time, and then it’s just not there at all anymore?  Never to be experienced again?

Friday, February 11, 2011

.endtransmission. Says....

I'm gonna throw out something a little different for my minions over this weekend.  A little mini series.... Question, Response, then a little something extra.

Just so ya know.

That is all.

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Lab Results Are In


White lab rats cause cancer.  Those beady eyed, pink tailed wirey furred turds are the root cause of all evil disease ever.  Well, maybe not turrets, but most of the others. Rats would have no use for speech, as they communicate telepathically.

Sugar is bad for you, after it was tested on white lab rats.

Remember when eggs were bad for you?  Not caviar, mind you, good old fashioned white eggs that come from white chickens that were tested on white lab rats.

Red wine is good, white wine is not good. As tested on white lab rats.

White bread is not good for you, but whole grain EVERYTHING is good for you, as proved by stuffing a diet of multigrain Tostitos and pita down the throats of white lab rats.

My grandfather ate a steady diet of Twinkies and Black Label beer.  He lived to the ripe old age of 76.  He died from taking a spill in the shower while drunk, but that’s another story.  I’m sure he was scared of some hallucination involving gigantic white lab rats dancing the tango on the divan.

Supersize me while you’re at it! Those trans fats don’t kill, the white lab rats are laughing all the way to the Big Mac in their food bowl, while they wash it down with Amp in that upside down bottle with the clicky ball thingy at the end of the tube.  They're faking the damned test results.  THEY can produce fat cells AT WILL.  White lab rats are a very advanced species!

White lab rats are the ground zero of every major disease and affliction that modern man has faced.  In fact, I think it was a white lab rat that bit that stupid monkey that was in Outbreak.  They just edited it out because it would make people scared to go to Disneyland.  Yeah, Mickey is black, so that’s why children aren’t afraid of him.  Do you see laboratory scientists high fiving him in their vacation photos?  I don’t think so.  Because THEY KNOW.

Reality shows in testing labs?  Never seen one, have you?  Because the rats are about to go all 12 Monkeys on us.  Despite all my rage, I am still just a rat in a cage.  Yeah, Smashing Pumpkins knew all about it, and tried to warn us.  Raging white lab rats are all around us. They test positive on purpose.  For everything.  BECAUSE THEY CAN.

Don’t believe me?  Notice any similarities in side effect symptoms?  Nausea, headaches, blurry vision, and in some rare instances death?  Heard that before?  Yeah, because that’s what the rats do to the drugs.  They fake all these symptoms, and then DIE to cloud the data.  It’s all part of their evil plan to make the drug companies manufacture and test even MORE drugs, and make us TAKE more drugs to save us from the drugs we already took, unless the drugs killed us like the rats, which is what the white lab rats want.  Then they can live their lives in peace in their climate controlled rat labs, sleeping on their fluffy rat beds made out of HUMAN HAIR.  Yeah.  Write it down.  It’s coming.

Michael Jackson sang Ben.  Michael Jackson dies of a drug overdose.  Coincidence?  Doubt it.  Now go take your Zoloft like good boys and girls. I’ve got some chewable Flintstones to snack on if you run out.

Sunday, February 6, 2011

Waiting For Warmth

The early morning sun is at your back.  The clean light walks into the garage with you as you pull open the big wooden door.  You step slowly up to her, running your fingers up her back. You open the fuel line, prime the choke, and flick the kicker out with your right boot.  A stomping motion brings this little motorbike to life, and she awakens with a slow and deliberate rhythm.  You lean over to the work bench, pick up and pull on your helmet, cinching up the chinstrap.  Pull on your gloves.  Leather and old oil mix with early morning air.  It’s a crisp, slightly chilly beginning;  you zip up your bomber jacket to the top.

Two quick twists of the throttle to make sure she’s awake.  She’s got a little exhaust smoke, because she’s cold.  She’ll warm up in a few minutes, though.  Flip the dark visor down. You wrap your legs around her. You’re taking her out to her favorite spot. She’s purring with anticipation, like a lover curled up on a blanket in front of a roaring fire.  She wants this as much as you do.

Turn from the drive, politely idling your way through the neighborhood and off to the main road.  It’s a two lane strip of fresh asphalt, perfect to bend that right wrist down hard.  You smoothly lean through the corner, and tip her up straight and bend that right wrist, smiling as she comes to life.  Second, third, fourth, and finally into fifth.  She howls loudly with delight through each shift.  Two joggers out for their morning run look over their shoulder as the two of you scream by in a split second, and disappear over the top of a small incline.  The front tire lifts a bit at the top of the hill, and for a moment you feel weightless.  It touches down, and you roll back on the throttle quickly.  The intersection is coming up, and you’ve got to downshift.  Four, then three.  The rear tire chirps as the gears mesh together.  Quick look left and right and the bike leans right over as you hit the apex just right, exiting in a small cloud of dust of road debris.  She loves to be muscled through the corners, never mind the stop sign you just blew through. She’s a hellion to her core.

Now it’s just you and your little lovely.  She’s taking everything you can give her, and in return she allows you to float and fly down the back country road.  It’s winding curves, out past the farmers’ fields, around the sweeping 40 mph right hand bend.  You notice the horses are out playing at the fence row.  They are jealous of your freedom. They, too, long for a hard ride.  You lean in tight against the curve of her tank, tightening your legs against her shape.  She’s hot between your legs now.  So hot it she’d burn you through your leather gloves. You become one machine; together as you knife towards the right side of the speedometer.  

Three digits.  That’s enough for today, lover.  Now we can go home, cool down, and dream of tomorrows time together.

Friday, February 4, 2011

Bring It....Oh, It's Been Brought.

(walks over to workstation, sets down assault weapon, removes ski mask.)

Hey, listen up people.  The gauntlet has been thrown.  I’ve been challenged to a blogger’s write off. I’m going to ask you to visit a blog, and watch this competition unfold, because it’s a great concept, and well, it’s just plain cool, and all the cool kids are doing it, and you don’t want to be left out, now, do you?  I’m not gonna step on your neck and threaten you. (yet) But I will ask that you check this out.  Here’s how it went down....

My internet pal, Average Girl posted a challenge to her 300+ followers of her blog, It’s An Average Life.  She asked for bloggers to step forward and participate in a “He Said, She Said” blog writing competition.  There are no big prizes, just a fun way to put your words up for more viewers to see.  But here’s the twist.... Average Girl paired up her readers, and then gave us all ‘assignments’.  Pro and Con for a topic.  Yeah, pretty cool idea, isn’t it?

So I’m paired up with the very talented Kelly Caffee from The Six Of Us.  We will be writing about... Well, you’ll just have to go see what we’re going to have to write about, now won’t you?

I will NOT be posting up my work for this competition here, so you will have to head over to It’s An Average Life to read and follow this exciting concept.

Go ahead.  Make my day.

It’s An Average Life -- He Said, She Said competition
The Six Of Us -- my worthy opponent

Read ya later, my little minions.

Tuesday, February 1, 2011


Oh boy, I got my license!  Well it’s just my learners permit, but Dad said he’d take me driving right after he gets home from work!  I can’t wait I can’t wait I can’t wait!  This is gonna be great, I can’t wait to get out on the highway!  Oh my buddies are gonna be so jealous, they’re birthdays aren’t until the summertime.  Shoot, I could have my license before the Valentine’s Day dance.  This is gonna change everything.  No more walking to school, no more walking to work, I can even take Lori out for pizza. Oh this is gonna be awesome!

I stand in the doorway, looking out the little windows in the top of the door.  I can see the end of the driveway if I stand on the steps.  It’s cold, but it’s not snowing, which is good.  Dad said I couldn’t drive my first time in the snow, I would have to work up to that.  I don’t know why really; it’s not hard, Dad never slides around in the car when he does it. What could possibly be different? Whatever.

MOM!! DAD’S HOME!! WE’RE GOING OUT DRIVING NOW! I yell up the stairs as I pull on my jacket.  It’s not my heavy jacket, I don’t want to get uncomfortable driving, since I know we’ll be out driving for HOURS, I’m better off being comfortable.  Dad honks, I slam the front door, leap from the porch straight to the drive, and am in the car in one step.  “Do I drive NOW??”  “No, not yet, we’ll go up to the church parking lot, and then I’ll have you learn a couple things, then we’ll drive.”  SWEET.  Dad’s gonna show me STUFF.  He knows EVERYTHING about cars, he rebuilt the motor in that old VW Bus we had.  I helped him change the oil on the Ford just last month in the garage.  I could do that, it’s pretty easy, I guess.

We get to the church pretty quick. It’s only a few blocks away, and I think Dad was in a hurry.  “Get out, lemme show you a couple things.”  I swing the passenger door open, and head around the front of the car, and reach for the drivers’ chrome door handle.  “Hang on a minute Son, we’re gonna figure out a couple of important things first.”  “Oh. Okay.” I don’t know what he’s so worried about, steering wheel, brake pedal, gas pedal, what’s so hard about this?

He opens the hood.  Dad shows me where the battery is, and which is the positive lead, and how to properly jump a car.  Well, I could have figured that out, it’s not hard.... But I guess it’s important to know that the colors need to match up.  "Don’t touch that radiator cap, it’s hot if the car’s been running. I don’t EVER want to get in this car and see that oil light come on. You check the oil every time you put gas in this car, and you put gas in this car EVERY. TIME. YOU. DRIVE. IT.”  Okay Dad, geez, can we just drive now?  The sun is going down, and it’s acting like it wants to snow.  “In a couple of minutes. Don’t get so antsy.  Open the trunk and get out the jack and the speed wrench.”  “Why in the world do we need to get that crap out?”  “Because you need to learn how to change a tire before you drive one of MY cars.  You can drive after you’ve shown me you can do it.”

Well, this is simple, I’ve watched Jerry at the service station do this a hundred times.  He just takes that electric wrench thingie and screws the nuts off then he puts on the new tire.  He just lifts them up with one hand, and puts them on the cars while their on the garage lift up in the air.

Boy this stuff is heavier than I thought. And greasy!  I’ve got it up on the jack, and now I have to loosen the lug nuts.  I couldn’t do it with my hands, Dad had me stand on the wrench until the nuts broke loose.  He said that’s because Jerry put them on too tight up at the station when he had them rotated. I took off the tire and it bounced and started to roll away, and I had to run after it.  It’s snowy now, and this light jacket isn’t cutting it, and my fingers are greasy and frozen and I still have to put this mother back on the car!  Dad gets tired of waiting for me, and loads up a nut in the speed wrench.  He spins it so fast I can barely see his hands!  He’s pretty good at this stuff. “Time to head home, Son. You drive.” He tosses me the keys.

It’s dark, and cold, and snowy.  Just little light flurries.  Dad tells me to remember to put on the windshield wipers and the lights.  I’m greasy, my head and hands are cold, but I’m sweating under that stupid jacket.  I’m grinning from ear to ear, as I drive home, knowing that I learned more in an hour about how to fix a stranded car than I’ll ever have to know.  Ten and two Dad, ten and two, I got it.