I took the day off from a lot of things yesterday...Walgreens, blogging, sobriety...

Please don't assail me for the immorality in the conversation I'm about to have with you. I'm fully aware that when I do good things, I wind up cancelling them out with bad things.

Managed to stay out of The Wall yesterday. No prob. My landlord/Village Trustee reminded me that the fire hall around the corner was having their chicken bbq, and the people in our political party were going around 3pm. Wasn't gonna go, but who turns down some winner winner chicken dinner?

So I went and it was a good time. The mayor is lookin out for this kid...she had a position open but it's only part-time, and she didn't wanna screw with my unemployment benefits. Fair enough. Saw a few people I hadn't seen in awhile, and was introduced to someone running for some office in county legislature who encouraged me to volunteer for her and she'd see what she can do for me. Fuck that, I know the talk. Ain't no jobs anywhere up in here.

Then the fun begins. I should've been arrested. On multiple charges.

Jack upstairs is an a-one certifiable alcoholic. The shit I've seen him go through put my drinking days to shame. I'll never say another word about being an alcoholic because he embodies it. And his wife Diane is a god damned saint. To the letter. Jack's a great guy outside his problem, and Diane is like a mom to her 3 kids' friends.

So I come home last night, and the kids are all there. They're plotting their mayhem for the evening. Which unbeknownst to me, would include teenage drinking.

Before all y'all rip me a new asshole on this one, listen to me. If you knew your kids were gonna go and get fucked up, would you rather not know, or know that they were doing it either in your own home or under controlled parental supervision and weren't going to leave and cause problems? If kids are gonna do what they want anyway, at least let them do it the safest way possible.

So everyone leaves and I retreat to my quarters to spend my saturday night gettin my loser on with a crossword puzzle when there's a knock at the door. It's Winks, one of the neighbors' kids' friends. We've got a kinda a lot of similarities and I like the kid. He's got a good heart, great humor and great taste in music. And he's got a buzz on.

I invite him in and we share a smoke and he apologizes if the upstairs is being too loud. Since I know what's going on up there I tell him I don't mind and I hope they're having fun. He invited me up, praising me for being cool and oozing genuine sentiments. I went up.

Next thing I know, I've rediscovered my Beer-Pong talent and everyone's playing this stupid-I-don't-even-know-what-it's-called-game where everyone says something they've never done that others might have, and if they have, they drink. And this got to Winks.

I didn't realize the kid kinda looked up to me. Dude got loaded, and he became "that guy". He went off about his life and how miserable he is at his own folks and the only family that loves him are Jack and Diane and his friends and "Norb who is the fucking man". At this point, I stepped in and let him speak while people were trying to interrupt him.

Diane is taxed enough with all these kids. Some left; I took Winks downstairs to chill out. We talked and hung out, he puked all over my backyard and the neighbor's house (and cleaned it up) and I babysat him while we dug on his new fave group, Atmosphere. We bonded. Kids tried to come around to see if he was alright. He wanted none of it, but I told Diane he was ok and he was gonna crash on my couch because she didn't need the drama. She was cool. One of her sons came down an hour later when he got home (he wasn't part of the original festivus) with a sleeping bag, and we all crashed old-school with Winks on the living room couch, Jake in his sleeping bag on my papasan cushion on the floor, and me on my spare room's loveseat at 4am.

For me, it was an old-school, party-for-13 hours-and-sleep-for-5 kinda day, that I haven't had in years. I realize the majority of it was wrong. Underage drinking, my having more than a few, etc...but consider the good: I took care of someone when he needed it, made it clear he can always talk to me about anything, and took some burden off of poor Diane for a night. So I'm not all that bad.

Anyway, that's my weekend. Read the news and chilled with Winks and Jake a bit this afternoon. Made no attempt to scout out what's her initials today. But tomorrow I'll post an interesting editorial on the poor I read yesterday, plus some supportive links to some other folks' ventures. Til then, it's the most gorgeous day of the year, so I'm goin back outside. Peace y'all...I'll catch up on your blogs either later or tomorrow.
 

And I mean that sarcastically. Today has not been the best of times so far. I want to scream and hurt things.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=32rRtt6hF94

It doesn't help that I'm a little superstitious. Not "troll dolls at bingo for good luck" superstitious, but I've got my quirks. The fear of bad things happening on Friday the 13th is one of them.

Example one: The "automatic payment" of my cell phone bill didn't go through this week. Which I kinda anticipated anyway because the timing of me having the available funds on my card versus when they try to collect the payment wasn't working out for me. So I have until tomorrow to pay them. I called them with my card, which now has plenty of available fundage, to make the payment. Denied. I hate trying to use an automated system for shit like that. I want to talk to a human. Called back and finagled my way through the menu to actually get a human. Gave her my digits and was put on hold. Denied again. WTF?!? So I called the bank to find out what the scoop is. Everything's fine on that end, the human says. She says it's a problem with the merchant I'm trying to do business with. Great. So now my inconvenienced ass is gonna hafta hop on a bus and go to the mall and pay the bill in person. Tell me again why I signed up for the stupid automatic billing service again?

Example two: I give up with this CWC nonsense. I asked her to help me find something and she did, and she cashed me out. I asked her if she had any big plans for the weekend, and she got really creepy. I didn't like the tone of her voice. I didn't like the vibe I felt when she said "Oh, I have plans...I just don't know if they're big or not." Fuck that. What kind of answer is that? And the way she said it, you'd think I had just asked her for her bra size. So I'm boycotting Walgreens for awhile. Long enough for her to miss me. Maybe she will run me over some day when she sees me walking down the side of the road. I don't think I'd mind today. Time to move on.

I'm gettin' out of here today. Gonna try to avoid black cats and ladders and all that kooky shit. Gonna go home, inflate my football, beat up on the kids upstairs some and listen to sad songs on my stereo. And tomorrow, I'll probably be right back at it. Maybe I'll work on writing something. Maybe I'll start a heroin habit . Who knows. Gotta do somethin' though. Have a great weekend.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LGbO-nVBaFo
 

I'm a pretty good athlete still, considering my age and a training regimen that includes Walgreens, fast food and a pack of menthols a day.

What I am not, however, is a good recoverer. It's going to be a long summer.

As I've mentioned, the front of my house is kinda like the hang-out spot because of the kids upstairs. Everyone was over when I got home and it was a gorgeous day, so why not? I brought out my radio and hung out.

It's a really tight neighborhood. Houses are close to each other and the street. Which means you've got to be careful throwing a football around. Thankfully, my football was slightly deflated and my pump's busted, so when the ball hit the ground it didn't bounce much. The neighbors seem to be pretty touchy about having their homes and vehicles impacted by a small mass of inflated leather. And it was definitely a spirited game of catch with the pigskin, because I have a bruised and sprained thumb, a slashed up palm, and some sort of gigantic brushburn/rash abrasion on my forearm. Oh yeah, and every muscle hurts. It's tiring to blink.

But who gives a shit? I had a good time, the kids had a good time, the neighbor got drunk so I used his wife's car to take him to the store for more booze and he gave me a pack of smokes for my time...everyone wins!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ungKhW6ZLRI

Don't have any interesting stories today so I'll leave you with the best idea Canada has come up with since strapping metal blades to your feet and using a wooden stick to push a rubber puck across a frozen pond, or Crown Royal, and don't even front, In Your Dirtiest Pants , cuz you know this is so true . Don't be all hatin' on your fellow countrymen, one of which happens to be one of the all-time greatest improv frontmen in all of the history of music. Besides, I will be summoning plenty of courage tomorrow should the cramping in my entire body subside long enough to want to stand in a certain drugstore for any length of time and mask my ogling as "conversation" while wondering if a future's gonna come of it with a certain gorgeous cashier.

Enjoy your day folks. I'm off to take a bath in a tub full of Absorbine Jr.
 

I had a whole 'nother idea for a blog entry today. Then CWC blew all that up on me. Chill on this great 80's song that I actually heard twice on the radio today while I tell you a little story. It won't take too long. I actually have this song on vinyl (and if I have to explain what "vinyl" is, you're probably too young to be reading this anyway).

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KeIY2rP2HWI

Today's the day. I get her by herself at her girly counter. I'm diving into the ocean, sink or swim. I'm not nervous. But damned if she doesn't just duck around the damn issue. She should be a skiier, the way she slaloms around in conversation.

CWC: a terse (but polite) "Hi."
me: "Yo." Cuz I'm cool like that.

**short pause**

me: "Ya know, I could think of better places to meet besides here." What the fuck do I have to do? Wear a sandwich board that says "Come and get it"??

CWC: Sarcasm is the sword I live and die by. I think I died a thousand deaths today. "Yeah? Like the side of the road where I almost run you over?" At least she said it with a smile. And Quick Draw McGraw over there beats me to the punch with "Have you figured out how old I am yet?"

me: I've got to play this one right. She looks good today so I go with it and say "Age is tricky. I mean, some days you look 27. Somedays, not so much..." I don't remember if I actually added the "not so much" part, but I'll leave it in there.

CWC: "Considering you know how old my kids are..."

me: "Yeah, but I don't wanna offend you either..."

CWC: "You won't."

me: "OK. I'll go with 33."

CWC: Smiles and shakes her head no. B-1, CWC-0.

me: "Am I close?"

CWC: "I'll be 36 at the end of July." Awesome. That little factoid will indeed come in handy.

me: "Your turn"

CWC: "Guess how old you are? You're definitely under 30." Very incredulously stated, by the way.

me, trying to avoid any bit of laughter: "No. Not even close. Try again."

CWC: "Ok, 30?" Smartass.

me: "Nope."

CWC: "31?"

me: "Nope. 33 at the end of July."

CWC: "Nice."

All these damn distractions. She won't say yes but doesn't want to say no. I may have to get Jedi on her. But I'm pretty sure she's off tomorrow, so it'll have to wait until Friday. Until then, I might just run up and down her street with a boom box blaring this old-school jam while running from the cops:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-9XrZviPMwg

Debbie Harry looks like someone's drunken aunt singing karaoke at a graduation party. Hope it's a good day for everyone.
 

Kind of a random day. I'm over myself about yesterday.

If you're a Nine Inch Nails fan, and you haven't done this yet, go to http://www.nin.com for a download of your free copy of their new cd, The Slip. I'll admit it isn't Trent Reznor's finest hour, but you can't beat the price. My awesome friend Nicole was nice enough to burn a copy for me and it came in the mail today. I'll have to call her and thank her.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=slKNd22GGaQ&feature=PlayList&p=AB406811D5A6C...

I also got a letter in the mail from the state Department of Labor today with a job referral. Sears at the mall is hiring a "HUB ASSOCIATE LEAD". Basically sounds like I'd be a merchandiser. But working for a large megacorporation absolutely scares the shit outta me. I'm not the kind of person who can get away with just being a face and a number somewhere. I've always done better with local companies. You know everyone and it's easy to get things done, and the words "company policy" are virtually non-existant. I'll have to ask Nicole what that job is like; she used to work for Sears. Nicole is cool shit, by the way (she's paying me to tell you all that).

Dairy Queen no longer sells hamburgers and hotdogs? The horror! I was in the mood for a chili dog and that was the closest place. But don't you worry. I know you're concerned. I was not to be denied. I just walked a little further down the street and got me a tasty chili dog. AND onion rings. Throw your hands in the air for onion rings. Now pass me some gum.

Ahhh CWC. Doing much better today. Placing her lunch order and surrounded by co-workers. She asked one of them what kind of dressing they wanted for their salad. I said French. Me and my naughty intentions. Let's just leave it at me seeing a lot more of her than I could imagine at this stage of the customer/cashier relationship as she was bent over at her counter writing her order down, with her polo shirt button unbuttoned. She said I listened to her, which is good. I looked at her all dumb and asked why (because I'm the master at looking dumb), and she said it was because I came to her to cash out. I wanna be a fly on the wall in The Wall when I leave. I wonder what she says about me.

I have unearthed footage from my days in the crib, my babyhood if you wanna call it that, which offers further proof of my impending ninja-ness:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a--3q4fOL5g

It's Julie D 's birthday today! I hear she's turning 21, so let's take her out for shots and see how liquored up we can get her. Antics await!

That's all I got for ya today. Nothing fancy. Peace, I'm out like Dominik Hasek.
http://www.buffalonews.com/sports/story/366678.html
 

And the hits just keep comin'. It's not the heat, it's the stupidity.

I've probably posted this before, but it bears repeating:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rdkjVk2ucPw

I've managed to aggrivate a few people yesterday and today. I'm neither happy nor proud of that. I rarely receive personal responses to blog entries outside of the comments section. Yesterday I received a bunch. It's truly amazing the responses you get when you ask a question and tell people you don't care what their answer is. Fucking mind boggling, actually.

I tend to forget that we were all raised a little differently. I wasn't so much raised as I was left to just figure shit out on my own. That tends to scare some people. I can understand why. I don't think the same way as others. I don't do things the same as others. I can have the tendancy to be the crowbar under WDC's polished fingernails sometimes. I'm fine with that. What I'm not fine with is upsetting some people I really respect and admire, over something I thought was trivial. That much I can apologize for. Sincerely.

At the end of the day, I am who I am. And some days, it's great. Some days, not so much. I'm the one who has to look myself in the mirror. I'm the one who has to put his conscience to sleep at night. And I'm the one who lives his life and writes about it. That will never change. Ever. I will offend some people. I will make people laugh. Sometimes with the same sentence. Everyone has their limits. I have a history of exceeding them. That's me. That's who I am. I'm that guy. But I can't worry about watching my mouth because someone's gonna get pissed, because then I start to worry about my own integrity. When I start sugar-coating things and turning my blog into The Donna Reed Show

And this time it's not me!

Before I wratchet up the icky creep factor, I have to send a special shoutout to janieruthryals for the wicked awesome Comedy merit badge. Check her y'all, she's funny and smart too, and gets this tiny little crevasse of internet that I pay for. Welcome to the party, Janie!

Onto the disturbing stuff (granted, it's not as disturbing as CWC having a day off, but you'll have that). Everyone knows that pretty much anything goes up in here...I don't take offense to much and folks is free to set it off. Pretty much nothing will gross me out.

I think, however, what I bore witness to yesterday may have scarred me and lessened my affection towards breasts for awhile.

First though, a question. I know most of my readers are ladies. And a lot of those ladies are moms. And mom is the most difficult title to hold, along with "single and over 30". So the question is, have you ever felt the need to breastfeed your child in a public place?

I realize that's an awkward and very personal question, and quite honestly, I'm not personally interested in your answers . But consider the following:

I'm leaving the library yesterday because, frankly, it was fucking time to go. As I make my way down the main drag toward the exits, I hear the silence that was once occupied by a screaming baby. Paid it no mind...til I got to the dvd section.

Peep this shit...a rather, aaahhhh, corpulent female is sitting on a bench next to a stroller. Big ole slopply breasticle is hangin' out, aereola the size of my fist, with junior goin' at it like breast milk is a sack on the side of the road full of gold coins. And aaahhhh, mom musta left the discreetness in the car next to the parenting book. Or the etiquitte book...whatever makes you chuckle more. I tried not to notice, I really did. But I noticed.

I'm actually a caring, loving person. I just happen to be coated in an asshole-flavored candy shell. I could not, unfortunately, hide my look of distaste at junior's preferred feeding arrangement at that moment. I mean seriously, isn't there a time and a place for certain shit? If I was munchin' on boobs in public, I'd be frowned upon (if not arrested). And that's said without mentioning what could happen if I were to whip out my scrumdillyicious in a heavily-trafficked public area. Think I stop traffic trying to cross busy streets? Think again.

Other than that, last night wasn't a bad time. Chucked some pigskin, listened to some Beatles, pissed off some neighbors and got the boys into some Atmosphere. Threw on the beat to "Shoulda Known" and they instantly were transfixed. I'd post that video, but I doubt y'all are down with watchin' cokehead chicks in their underwear lovin' up on each other.

And with that, a pleasant sunday I bid you all!
 

Unfortunately, I'm not referring to CWC's kids, but they could be great too...more on her later...

**(hears the sounds of all of you scrolling past the rest of this to get to the part about her)**

First off, I'd like to make a personal plea to all if you, if you have not done so already: Please watch Z.˚rz 's hit comedy "Rumiez". Word on the street is FOX is looking to add it to its sunday night lineup after "Family Guy". And nobody likes an angry Zack. Here's the link, I'll save you the trouble:

http://www.writing.com/main/redirect.php?redirect_url=http://myspacetv.com/...

You're welcome, Zack. Now where's the hookers and blow you promised me?

When I got home yesterday one of the upstairs neighbor's sons was sitting outside chillin' with a friend, so I pulled up a chair and joined them in the shade (my tan is starting to get ridiculous, so all you pasties out there can get your bitter on ). After all, some of those chairs out there are mine.

They're teenagers. I don't mind them; I think they're funny. They're good kids with nothing to do. And I'm a good kid with nothing (better) to do. So I hung out with them for awhile. I get to hear their shenanigans, and they get to hear my shenanigans from back in the day. Then they went to the car show and wanted to know if I would hang out later. Sure, why the fuck not? Then we got into some shenanigans

Forgive me if I seem to lose my focus today. In trying to eat a little better I just ate the most unhealthiest salad known to mankind (BBQ chicken salad...with about as much cheese as lettuce, and let's top the constipator off with some bleu cheese. Why not?) and I have a tendancy to get stupid on a full stomach. Plus I just watched Z.˚rz 's new clip. Twice. I fear it may have sapped what remaining energy I had left after I ate a farmer's profits.

What kind of drugs does CWC exhale? Seriously. Because every time I start to speak with her, my mind goes in sixteen different fucking directions. It's like trying to catch a thousand marbles with my elbows. I walk out of there feeling like I've just mainlined two bottles of rum, asking "what the fuck just happened?" and cursing myself because the right things to say for the situation always come to me about the same time my feet hit the parking lot.

She complimented me today. Asked me if it was hot enough outside (it's been ridiculously gorgeous lately) and noticed that I've picked up quite the tan in the last 2 days. I tell her usually I burn and then stay tan all summer (thank you, Italian skin); she says she burns and turns white again. Laughter ensues. B calls it a day at The Wall (thank you, idiot in me).

I think it's because I don't take compliments well. I get all awww-shucksy when someone says something genuinely nice about me. I stare at my shuffling feet to avoid having my blushing blinding people. What next? If she happens to come out and directly say something like "you're cute" or "I dig short dudes" I'll be torn between wanting to jump over her counter and get a full-on makeout session going or looking for the closest candy bar wrapper to hide in. What's wrong with me?

Sorry In Your Dirtiest Pants ...this is what happens when you blow off work to go to the beach and don't take me. I post a video by The Get Up Kids.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R_eXoRt2MmM

"If the world is ending, we'll toast to it...You taught me how to play the fool. Every mistake that I make, I couldn't have made without you."
 

It's window season finally at 542. Which means it's project day around mi casa. Which is pretty funny, cuz I'm not a project person.

Ladies, sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not a handy-man. Screwdrivers are drinks, not tools, and hammered is what they can get you, not something you use to pound things.

Anyway, the storm windows needed some moving around. One needed replacing, and I had no idea that when the animals kids next door broke the one storm window, the frame to it was still in place.

Add to this mayhem the fact that I first attempted this madness at about 8:30 this morning. Because for some inexplicable reason, my body decided I didn't need to sleep past 6:30.

So there I am, smoke in one hand, screwdriver in the other. I was hoping to attack this from the outside so I wouldn't have to remove the screen, which meant I had to remove a strip of metal that runs horizonally along the middle of the window. For some reason, the window that was in place was bigger than half the size of the entire window area place thingey. Whatever you call it.

Yup, grabbed the wrong screwdriver. Then another. And another. And if my cordless screwdriver was charged, I'da brought that sum-bitch out too. Figuring it can't possibly be my weak, puny arms, I brought out the heavy artillery: WD-40. Word...time to get aerosol on these bad boys!

I couldn't even tell ya how old that can of WD-40 is, but I do know that I hadn't even used it yet. To my knowledge...which is suspect anyway. I stuck that little red straw they give ya where it's supposed to go, lined my aimer up with the blue dot, and commenced fire. I wondered if I'd ever felt more like a man in my life . I gave it to 'em good.

Grabbed the best implement for the job and tried again. Those little fuckers aren't coming out. Shit. This just turns my project into selecting a Democratic candidate for President.

My screens are old. Very old. Which kind of makes my apartment an easy mark for people who get off on taking what isn't theirs. Not that I have much of value anyway, and besides, if I did and my windows were made of bricks and they wanted to loot me bad enough they'd find a way. This is Buffalo...folks is resourceful, ya hear?

Some of the screens are missing one of the tiny little prong-like protrusions that help it stay on/in track. You know what that means...bug the landlord for new windows duct tape time! I got to the cabinet where the duct tape lives, thinking this is one of two times a year when I actually use duct tape so I've got to have a ton of it. Nope. None. Outta business. Damn.

Fixed up the windows as best I could and even though I was determined to finish what I'd started before I come home to a cleaned-out house some day, I made the decision that I would go to Walgreens (and for those of you keeping score at home, CWC was not present today) for the crucial step in the process of keeping my place cool for the summer (besides the fact that it's just damn cool all year 'round).

Long story short, got my duct tape, got some breakfast, came home and secured the premesis. Put all my man-toys away, even the WD-40, with the straw still intact. See, there have been complaints in the village lately of rats. Fucking rats. They've been migrating to the 'burbs ever since the city started using big totes for people's garbage. I've never seen one. I've seen all sorts of crazy shit...skunks, raccoons, cripes even a turkey. Two mice in the 7 years at my joint. No rats. The village has rewritten the code on garbage disposal now. All garbage must be put out to the curb no sooner than a specified time (no idea when...that's how well I pay attention) in a sealed, water-tight container. Or you will be fined and/or publicly lashed.

Fine. Fine me. Bite me. Ya know how many plastic cans are in my backyard right now for all of us in the building? Seven. Take a guess as to how many have lids. Yup. None. Every freaking time my landlord or I bought a new can, the lids would last maybe a month before the wind would blow them away or the idiot sanitation workers would just toss them anywhere, including in their trash heap. So I'm leaving the straw on my WD-40, just in case a rat happened to end up in the cabinets under the sink. Let 'em sip on that. Then I can take a dead rat to the next village board meeting and say "Here ya go. Get us some garbage totes."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ei-L_AuuaxI
Rolling Stone magazine named this one of it's top 100 "Great Guitar Songs Of All Time." I never thought of it as such; I always thought of Rod Stewart as quite the pretentious wanker. Regarless, it still sits as a pretty decent tune in my book. And Rod- mic's are for singin', not for swingin'.
 

Here's the theme of where today's journey has gone so far:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gmn15EKepYc

I used to wrestle in high school. I was pretty good at it (and save all your "rolling around half-naked with sweaty guys" jokes...I've heard 'em all and none of them are remotely imaginative). You basically train for a few hours a day and lift weights, so that once or twice a week you can face off with an opponent for 3 two-minute intervals at most.

Seems like a lot of work for little payoff, no?

Well, it's the strategy I'm putting into place now, because sometimes that's what dealing with CWC can be like. A wrestling match. Spend all this time wondering what I'm gonna say, take advice from basically strangers, work my getaway sticks up to The Wall, and sometimes I have only a very brief period of time to try to get out something witty and cute and fun and complimentary. Today was that day, and she played into my game.

Busy day at The Wall. Your hero walks in, grabs his paper and lemonade (had to give up Mountain Dew for awhile...the caffeine is killing me) and waits in line. My new goal is to take all these little moments and learn something new about her each day, so I can eventually tie them all together into something...well, you get the point, and if you don't, you haven't been around in awhile. Before I get a chance to say anything...

CWC: "Didn't your mother ever teach you to walk on sidewalks? I almost ran you down with my car yesterday."
Me: "What?!? And you didn't stop and say hello?"
CWC: "You were all into your music. I figured I'd try to scare the shit

I can't believe how young these guys looked back then as compared to now...I heard this while I was in the shower and I forgot how much I loved this song:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lln5i1N3J8g

DAD
So Paw Duke stopped by bright and, well, his pretty normally stoic and well-medicated self. Dropped off a few things and we're gonna give it another shot with the table I'm giving him.

For those who don't know what I'm talking about, lemme catch ya up: My dad and stepmom visited Splitsville back in January. After living with my aunt and uncle for a few weeks, dad found his own place. At the same time, my best friend was giving up his apartment to move in with his girlfriend and had some furniture he didn't need. Some I took, some I'm storing and some I gave to my dad. It all worked out well.

I would up with a spare table. I don't really even know what to call it...it's bigger than an end table but smaller than a coffee table, has storage space and measures 16"x18"x30". The plan was to give it to my dad. Today was the 3rd attempt since prolly March that we've been trying to do this pawning off of the furniture.

The common sense, as I've stated before, has been left off the family tree for quite a few generations it seems.

The first failed attempt was in my dad's old car, a Kia Sephia, and I saw that one coming. Then we tried getting it in my aunt's slightly bigger-but-not-by-much Chevy Cavalier. Today dad rolls up in his new car...which I must say is probably the nicest car he's ever owned, a 2005 Chevy Malibu.

I'll admit I was actually a little hopeful when he opened the trunk. I really thought we were gonna be able to smash it in there somehow. I'm not even mad about it. It was about an inch too big to fit.

At this point of the story it is my duty to add that my dad lives around the corner from my aunt and uncle...who own a pickup truck and a Ford Explorer. That's the part that really pulls my short hairs. At this point I may as well stick a fucking lamp on it and reintegrate it with the rest of my furniture.

CWC
Nothing new to report today. Said hi but she looked busy and not too chatty, plus I was still a little miffed about the whole table fiasco.

Before I make my next move, I have to be one hundred percent times two that I'm confident this is what I want to do. You don't just date a mom and expect the kid to disappear, no matter how old the kid is. Even if I don't meet him until we've gotten serious. I have to take all this into consideration; is this what I want? Is this going to be what's best for everyone? Am I ready to welcome not one, but two people into my life? With one I was pretty sure, but two?

I'm glad I'm asking myself these questions now rather than trying to answer them later, head-on and treading water. Having dated a woman with kids before, I have a pretty good idea what to expect. As the significant other, you're still significant but to a lesser degree. I found that difficult to adjust to at first. I think since CWC's son is older, it won't be such an adjustment. One 12 year old has a lot more independence than a 4 and 6 year old. Gotta think it through. And come up with an answer. Soon.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q6UXqjYzrOI

Blew way past 2k overnight...thanks!
 

This day in history: Babe Ruth retired from professional baseball at the age of 40.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4kOPis0IqJw

I'm considering throwing in the towel on Operation CWC.

I've determined that she's definitely older than me. That's not a problem at all. I don't care if she's 10 years older than me. She doesn't look it. But I did not realize she has a son. That's actually not a problem either. But I'm not too keen on the fact that the son is 12 years old.

Say that out loud with me one time: 12 years old.

I was once told by my bitchy ex-boss that (based on her experience with her fiancee's kids) that if I ever met a girl who had kids to run as fast as I could. I didn't know that she knew I was dating my crazy ex and her 2 kids. She would always tell me this. My arguement was always that my stepmom married my dad and he already had kids.

Sure, it's entirely possible that I could have a 12 year old son. But I don't. And you'd never guess by looking at her that she's a mom. However old she is, she looks great for her age. But I'm not sure that she wants a guy in her life (if she doesn't already have one). Maybe she's content with the guy in her life being her son. Maybe I'm just confused and not sure now if I'm ready for all this.

I'm gonna take a night and think this one off.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DC-gRQh_pFw&feature=related

I'm gonna go say a few hellos and get outta here. Got some cleanin' up to do...dad called me this afternoon to tell me he's stopping by between 9-9:30 to drop some stuff off and hopefully, finally get that table picked up that's been sitting in my living room for half of forever. The place is kinda a mess, and dad doesn't need to think I'm gettin' my inner Kerouac on too much.


 

Sweet freakin' geebus. Only me y'all, only me.

Had breakfast with the 13th apostle Dave at an ungodly early 8am (that's what happens when you're the last of the gang to jump back on the couples boat...you live on their schedules). Haven't seen him since I helped him move months ago. The shit he's storing here still has not been properly gone through. No big thing currently; kid's a brother to me and his 3 siblings have or will be popping out their first kids soon. Honorary Uncle B is so proud!

I went to Walgreens to actually shop. Needed some stuff for the home-place. You'd think I'd have it all by now, but candles die out and I'll have to put my backyard nature debris in something other than kitchen bags.

Don't tell me how I blew this golden opportunity. I already know what I should've said. Hindsight comes like a broken umbrella you find when caught in an unexpected rainstorm.

No CWC. Aight, get my shit and jet, right? HAHAHAHA no. Some other (not romantically stimulating) employee remarks that I'm always there like the other girl (unnamed customer)...(and holdupwaitaminute, I have no clue who she's referring to and I non-verbally respond as so while being polite about her being between me and outdoor trash bags)... and asks me my name. Norb. Which she butchers and some day I'll be stuck correcting her. Norb, not Norm. Eh, thanks for noticing I shop here a lot.

Why the fuck on earth didn't I non-stalkerishly and politely ask when Jessica was working next? I swear, I'm prepared for every situation except for the one that presents itself.
 

Choke on this while I try to figure out how I'm gonna say what I have to say.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=scEIC5bG1Yk&feature=related

Now that you're thoroughly depressed (and trust me, I was listening to this while reading Z.˚rz 's entry yesterday and afterwards I wanted to swallow a knife), I have a story I'd like to share. It's not a fairy tale and the ending isn't very happy.

I got out of the shower this morning and went to put on deodorant. That's not the story, but it's an integral part. I hate it when you run out of deodorant and it just kinda crumbles on your pits. I thought I had another stick. Nope. Had to dig around for the travel-size stick I had somewhere, cuz I had some big plans! Had to not stink.

Running out of deodorant was good. It validated my reason for going to Walgreens for something other than a newspaper. And a certain CWC. Here's where shit gets interesting. Almost.

I grab the paper and try to find which aisle the deodorant is. And sure enough she's sitting at the end of the aisle working or something. I make a joke about her being on the floor and she asks me what I'm doing here. "I'm just buying deodorant..." She says "Well, that's good!" Yeah. Then my charm kicked in and I said "Yeah, then I'm goin' to lunch next door. You should join me sometime. It'll be good times" and headed over to get a beverage. "Ya think?" she asked, in what wasn't a bad tone, but kinda like a "Uhhh, yeah, duh, I'm hot shit" tone. Grabbed a few other things and walked past her on my way to the check-out. Out of my way, of course. I lied up above...now here's where shit gets interesting.

She asks me if I'm ready to check out and I say sure. Walk over to the cosmetics counter. She starts looking at my magazine and we're talking. She's seen me walking around before. She recognized me from my hat and backpack. Apparently she doesn't live that far from me. Somehow the topic got changed to Florida and her parents in Miami and my sister's in Tampa and how she's been there often enough that she's got some friends down there, and how this little 6 year old Dominican boy has a crush on her and they're gonna be pen pals and...

This is where I grab my meat and potatoes, slam 'em on the counter and drop this: "Yeah, he probably gets all excited when the 'pretty lady' comes around."

We talked for a few more minutes maybe before she had to get back to work. "Go eat your lunch, I'll see ya soon."

Damn. Seed firmly planted. She didn't say no, but she didn't say yes. If someone doesn't say yes, then that's a no, right? This is turning into a mindfuck of epic proportions. A chess match. If it's aggrivating for you to read about, it's aggrivating tenfold living it out.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bmxyj6iInMc

I'm not gonna let this ruin my day. I'm not gonna think about it. I'm not gonna think at all. Have a great weekend.
 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p-f0510qYnk

It appears that yours truly was smacked around pretty good in Z.˚rz 's comments section the other day. We here, the fine folks at I'm Studying You

I want to apologize if I got a little testy with anyone last night. I was kind of snitting and stewing about the house in my own frustration about a couple of things. I may have gotten out of hand after awhile and said a few things that might've bothered some people. Please accept a sincere "my bad y'all".

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=szu_bHULdq4

Just a warning: I'm not feeling much better today. Different reasons.

I have a headache. I think it's from the crappy Arby's chicken sangwich. I worry when I get a headache because I rarely get them. Makes me think there's something serious wrong with me. More than there already is.

Let's see...New York is gonna honor gay marriages. For chrissakes let dudes who like dudes and chicks who like chicks get hitched if they really like each other, and fucking respect that. My view about this is roughly the same as my view on religion. I have no problem with it as long as you don't hit on me.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=muP9eH2p2PI

I got a thing in the mail yesterday about a some "Quality of Your Local Tap Water" report. It said that our water has been tested and includes no bacteria, germs or STD's. Well, that's always good. I actually drink tap water because it doesn't taste like plastic. And filtered water actually made me violently ill once. Imagine that. Then I turned on the shower and was overwhelmed by the smell of sulfur...totally killing the scent of my manly shampoo.

I also got a letter from the electric company

I'm pretty sure if shopping carts were involved, there would have been blood shed.

Yes, I'm talking Walgreens.

I'm making my way to the cooler. As I cross the center aisle, our heroine comes to the end of the aisle. Startles the shit out of both of us. Both of us come to a screeching halt. I think she had smoke coming from the bottom of her shoes.

Talk about an awkward pause. There was a good couple seconds before either of us realized what was going on. After I let her smile sink in and rub off a little chemistry on her, the dork in me takes over (something needs to be done about that guy). I got that sly smile goin' on out of the side of my mouth and deadpanned "That could have been fatal."

I don't know what's worse...that I actually said that, or that she actually got a good laugh out of it.

Grabbed my drink and a box of tissues and went to cash out.

Walgreens, I swear, is the Florida of the north for old ladies and their damn coupons and rainchecks and bullshit. Arguing the prices, complaining there's no Dove Chocolate that's supposed to be on sale, digging for their exact change, growing one minute closer to death and seriously fucking with my mojo. Congregating in front of the crowded register area so they can speak to whomever wants to come up and play "manager". Creating a scene when I'm supposed to be getting my love jones on. Forming a line behind me that stretches back to Penora St.

Am I the only one who goes to the store, gets what's on the list he forgot to take to the store with him anyway, and leaves the store in a timely fashion? Seriously.

I know CWC wants me to make a move. My ninja sense is telling me this (as are about 6-8 blog commenters a day). I will not let you down! And I will not be denied by the damn AARP convention that was dressed up like a pharmacy today.

But I also know better. Trust me...I'm not letting insecurity, shyness and overall acting like a pussy be a substitute for tact and charm. I'm not gonna put the poor girl on the spot and disrupt her while she's got a job to do, which I'm sure is more important than waiting for the schlubb who comes in everyday for his soda and paper to ask her out.

They have these crazy contraptions at their counters that when you pay by cash, it spits out the coin portion of your change. I don't understand this. And it's at the polar opposite end of the part of the counter where you pay. It doesn't make sense. But CWC was nice enough to reach around and grab my the four pennies along with my the $2 in singles she handed to me. She gives also gives me a look, kinda a smoky smile, and says (doesn't ask, says) "I'll talk to you soon." Yes, yes you will.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xFObRusJt24

Remember this song? I had the cassette single for this back in the day. Until I let a cousin borrow it, and that was the last I saw of it. Douchebag.

As I sat down to type this, listening to tunes, I feel a very awkward and extended nudge in my back...it's my half-brother Mike! He had to come to the library to print some stuff up and he couldn't do it at home. The little fucker got a car! A sick, pimped-out Chevy Cobalt that he's doing all this custom stuff to. Him and his (I'm not even gonna say a word about her cuz she's way too young for me) girlfriend. We talked for a few minutes; we'll get together soon. It was good to see him. Even if the only thing in the conversation that ever changes is the length of time since he last saw dad. And I can't really say anything lately either about that. I really should call him soon though.

Hope everyone's having a fantastic day. The sun is shining, there's money in my pocket and and a devilish look on my face...hopefully tomorrow I'll have a better story.
 

Kåre Enga en Costa Rica is about the only one who'll get this entry.

The City Of Buffalo has lost a truly outstanding citizen.

I was a little too tired and didn't even read my newspaper yesterday (geez talk about a wasted trip). So I'm reading yesterday's paper this afternoon. Former mayor James D. Griffin passed away over the weekend. The cause was undetermined.

He was in government a long, long time. He was perhaps most well known for his quote during the Blizzard of '85: "Get a 6-pack, stay inside and watch some football." His lovers loved him and his haters hated him, but he was a man of his word. He may not have been perfect (he had a huge anti-gay and anti-abortion bias) but he was what Buffalo needed at the right time.

http://www.buffalonews.com/home/story/355439.html
There's some video as well. Jimmy Griffin, Buffalo through and through.

Now, let's talk about another famous Irish JD, Julie D . Many many thanks for my first ever Journaling Merit Badge! Who'da thunk this kid from a small town would ever end up infecting your minds on a daily basis the way I have? Certainly not me!

So I've been kinda out of it the last couple days. Partying with the veterans on Memorial Day didn't help...if my sis is out there reading this, I saw Johnny Zlotek today...he gave me some sort of weird hand-gesture/wave/peace sign/hats-off wave. I just waved back...no need to flag down an eagle just to say hi.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6nAMFWDuDEI

I've got a village board meeting tonight and I've blown off the last few, so I guess I really should go tonight. I'm also behind on your blogs. But even CWC gets a day off now and again.
 

Y'all are gonna hate on me today.

I wasn't in the best mood/place.

Chatted up CWC. Probably maybe too much.

Nothing positive to report.

I have emails, but I need to take a nap.