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 |   A little bit of everything, colored my own way. |
 BLOG CHALLENGE WINNER FOR SEPTEMBER 2011 AND APRIL 2012!! ** Image ID #1901871 Unavailable **  After almost a year away, I've decided to revisit Blogville. I'm refreshed and ready...this time around it'll be a little different. I'll talk about a little bit of everything...music, sports, retail life, and more. It's not for everyone...you might not like it, but someone you know (and possibly detest) probably will! WHO THE HELL DO I THINK I AM??  We're gonna find out one way or another!  Relax, enjoy, leave a comment, tell your friends... A special thanks to Julie D - PUBLISHED!  for the 2011 Quill Awards image!"There is only one way...it is THE WAY." -Photo Jesus  "Can't you count to one??"  Thanks for stopping by and showing your support!  |
| THE PROMPT: "Mind Over Matter. Earl can't concentrate when it's too hot. What effects your concentration? Got any concentration tips?" Good afternoon everybody! If you don't mind, it doesn't matter. Prompt complete! Just kidding. Our man Earl can't concentrate when it's too hot. That's understandable. I have trouble concentrating under certain circumstances too. Like when I'm too full...all that consumes me is all the food I've consumed. Or when I'm talking on the phone, I can't have music playing. Or when I'm writing and I start to get into that writing zone...Hell knows no fury like the one designed for when I get interrupted in thought. There's some kind of unwritten house rule that states I need to be completely left alone when writing. It's an absolute must. Break my concentration, and I may break you. Just kidding. Well, sorta. It's all in the mindset. It really is "mind over matter". You have to let the competitive forces in your mind reign over what you really wish to accomplish to be able to set yourself apart from needy distractions. It's the will to not let things get in the way. It's being able to commit fully enough to see something through to conclusion, circumstances be damned. It may require a certain amount of tunnel vision. If you're a miner, you're prepared...if you're a minor, you have it only for what you want, and screw the big picture.  Here's a little story from my youth I'd like to share. When I was a kid, I had boy scout summer camp to look forward to. I'd sell candy bars and whatever else the troop would let me peddle, just so my poor ass could get away from the family for a week, sometimes two. I spent all year looking forward to nothing but fun outdoor activites with my friends over that given time. It was all I knew. Nowadays, kids have way more options. Band camp, computer camp, horeseback riding camp, lacrosse camp, fat camp...you name it, and there's a camp designed for that specialist hobby. Maybe there should be some kind of Concentration Camp, where you sit out in the woods and have seminars designed to help you maintain your focus during times of duress, stress, or other likely distractions. Hold up... My sources have just informed me that these camps once existed. Only under different circumstances, and in poorer taste. Damn, another good idea ruined by the dregs of history and shit. Oh well. Someday, I'll have an idea that gets me rich, or...oooohh! Shiny red ball! Time to play in traffic! MUSICAL BREAK!! You might know him as the guy that plays an investigator on one of them crime shows they play on the tv. I know him as the guy that rapped these verses over this beat, and it was the only song in my head when I read the prompt. Only now have I realized the correlation and influence between this song and my writing style. Impressive. VITAL STATS:  I've done nothing today, and that's how I like it.And now I'm gonna go enjoy some alone time in the empty house, and maybe take a nap. Peace, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
| THE PROMPT: "How was your week? Tell us about your week outside WDC? Mundane? Exciting? Tell us. Blog." What's up y'all? So you wanna know about my week? Here, do this...take a look at my last seven blog entries. That's my week. It's been ups and downs, and right sides and left sides (and no, that doesn't mean it's ass). It is what it is and it was what it was. And if you were paying attention, you'd know. By no means am I wearing the mad face about this prompt, but I'm making a motion to the powers that be to strike this kind of prompt from the system of the "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS"  . The true participants, while staying true to a prompt which may not yield the need to talk about their day, usually do anyway, because that's blogging...you talk about what's going on. A prompt is only fuel to talk about something else. To end this prompt with "Blog." is sort of redundant and frankly, ridiculous, and that by means is in no offense to 30DBC Creator/Founder or Thundersbeard 30DBC JULY HOST . This is just my opinion, being worn like high heels and handcuffs in church. Who seconds the motion?MUSICAL BREAK!! If you know me you know I love to support my friends, and I love to support local music. I have the two cd's this band's put out, and I used to work with the drummer, who now tends bar at one of my favorite places to see shows, Mohawk Place. And while they have next to nothing available on YouTube, I found this song, which I've never heard before. VITAL STATS:  Take a moment to ponder the amazingness of this picture, and how wonderful it'd be if it were, indeed, true. And that's what I'm leaving you with tonight. Off to make myself some fantastic Steakum sandwiches. Peace, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
| THE PROMPT: "Name your poison. Got a sweet tooth? Tell us about your favorite chocolate bars, cakes etc. If you're a health nut, tell us your favorite health food for spoiling yourself (muesli bars? Crackers?)" What's up people? Greetings from the basement in sunny Lancaster. The War Chest has been restocked it seems. Well, that's expected after not dippin' in it for a month or so. So I'm being prompted to name my poison. Is there something going on here that I'm unaware of? I've created a poison that is now in need of a name? Good lawd! If only my parents knew, they'd be so proud! I think I'll name it Tastycakes, and market it toward screaming babies. What's that you say? There's already a product on the market called Tastycakes? http://www.tastykake.com/ Drat! Well, does it count that I spelled "cake" correctly? Damn right it should.Oh, you mean like a vice of some kind? Yeah, I got plenty of those too. If you asked me this same inquiry 10 years ago, my answer would look something like "wine, women and song". Well, I still like my wine, but these days it goes down as its alter-ego, Budweiser. And I still like the women, only nowadays just a lot less of them. And song, well, that's a true love that will never let me down. Unless it's Nickelback. If anybody needed to step in front of my vehicle after I've redefined happy hour while being distracted by the lovely miss I just met at the bar, it should be Nickelback. There...wine, women and song, all nailed in one sentence. In fact, had I not spent the last ten minutes typing the rest of this entry, I'd delete the entire thing except for that one sentence. In fact, I'm pretty sure that's how BIG BAD WOLF is hopping  comes up with his deep one-line entries ( just kiddin' dude...it's still pretty fascinating how you come up with something so short yet seemingly relevant...and happy birthday!).MUSICAL BREAK!! Ahhh, poison... VITAL STATS:  Speaking of poisons, I gotta do somethin' about this medication situation. Apparently being healthy right now isn't in my plans, so I'll be calling my doc on Monday to do something about it. These meds have my antsy but exhausted. I can't get through a work shift the same way as I used to (if I can even go), my arms feel weak at my shoulders, my chest feels light but cloudy, the dizzy spells have me checkin' my balance all the time, and sleep is a hit-or-miss proposition. Something's gotta give here. And I hate being the person that complains about their health, but I don't have much else to complain about today. Wait, yes I do. I'll complain about that one thing that I always complain that I hate when everyone else complains about it: the weather. And I really can't complain about the winter we had or the spring this far, but it's a little too chilly for my liking today, even though the sun is wicked beautiful. That, combined with me feeling like shit and justjessica1 taking a nap, has pretty much killed my desire to go to the local Hellenic Festival being held in the city, which is usually a few degrees cooler due to its proximity to the lake (and if I'm wrong, well, sounded legit to me ). Was looking forward to some Greek food with G-Stamm, his missus-to-be, and maybe his mom and sis. Dammit. Well, like shitty sports teams always say, there's always next year. http://www.buffalogreekfest.org/And that's it. Don't feel like typing anymore today. Maybe just some comments sprinkled around here and there, but that's it...my shoulders don't want to cooperate, so I'm done for the day. Peace, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
| THE PROMPT: "What Blogging Challenge format do you prefer - the structured format of April or the looser format of May's Follow Me. As always, explain why, give examples etc, etc If you have absolutely no idea what I'm talking about, just give us a rundown of your blogging history." Good evening everyone...welcome to day one of the "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" ! Before I get into my entry, one question for either Thundersbeard 30DBC JULY HOST or 30DBC Creator/Founder ...is this month official or not? Thunders says it is; Earl has stated otherwise. Just wanna know what's goin' on, boys. Doesn't matter much to me anyway.So, I'm sure the masses are dying to hear about whether I prefer the structure of the April challenge, or the "Follow Me" format of May. Like my vote's gonna be the final say or something. I'll say this...both are pretty equal in my book, but if I had to choose one, it'd be the April version. See, I typically don't want to read anyone else's entry until I've written mine. I don't want the information of even one person throwing me off when I'm thinking about the prompt. Or maybe I just want the piece of mind knowing that I didn't coincidently write the same thing as someone else. Even though I feel that with "Follow Me", a lot of our entries didn't sound like other contestants' entries, but in our own words (something that seemed like it happened pretty regularly in April). If I had to say something nice about May's challenge, (besides the lesser amount of similar entries) it would have to be that writing an entry based on another entry rather than a sentence or two does allow for more wiggle room with your blogging license. An entry can go in a lot more directions, rather than being driven down a tunnel where we all meet up at the end. But what seals it for me as to why I like the structure of April is that if I have a shitty day and have nothing to write about in a "Follow Me" month, I don't have to come up with a boring entry that seems impossible to follow. When you're stuck like that, it's easier to come up with one or two sentences than it is to build something out of nothing. That's my take. I know a lot of you feel differently, and that's cool. But whatevski. It's writing. To paraphrase the movie Tommy Boy, you can take a crap in a box, and I'll write something about it. Porbably about how nasty I think you are for crapping in a box and telling me to kick a few words about it. MUSICAL BREAK!! I'm not gonna lie; this song bugs the ever-lovin' outta me. It plays at work at least six times in an eight hour shift. I cringe when I hear it. But I'll be damned if it's the only song I know where the singer sings the word "blog". I'm sure there are plenty out there that exists, but this one is the only one that's driven into my brain with a vocal sledgehammer through my aural cavity. It makes me want to harm the crazies. Wait...maybe I'm on to something with the relationship between this song and my perceived "behavioral issues" at work. Hold on...human resources is on line one... VITAL STATS:  So I've pretty much been up since 5:30am (it's 11:12pm as of this typing), and I'll have to be up again in the morning to take {suser:justjessica1) to work at 6am before I turn around and hit Wagland at 8. And the mess I walked into today was bad...like, on a scale of 1-10, it was easily an 8 (or an 8.4 out of 12, for my friends using the metric operating system). A sheving unit holding a few shelves of hand soap mysteriously ripped itself out of the wall overnight (a nearly-impossible fix for us who aren't very handy), throwing up its contents all over the floor. Luckily, only a couple suffered from internal leakage. And my boss wasn't in, nor was anyone scheduled in photo or as an extra person for the salesfloor. So the manager and I unloaded truck, I ran one of the busiest labs in the district, came home, couldn't nap 'cuz I got stuck at work a few minutes late, had to get speaker wire (see below), we were doing dinner with Jess' sis and bro-in-law, and here I am now, barely legible and nearing midnight. Like I said, staring at another 5:30am wake-up call. Yikes. On the plus side, I did a markdown on a JVC dvd player, and luckily we still had one left in stock, so I got it for The ManCave. $54.99, down to $26.99, and then after my 15% emploee discount, wound up paying $22.94 plus tax. By the end of the weekend I'll have that hooked up along with the sound system, and I'll finally be able to get some use out of this tv sitting in my basement. I just wish we'd figure out what the hell we're doing with our satellite tv situation, so I can actually watch a hockey or football game down here once in awhile.And that's it for tonight...another busy day tomorrow though. After work we're heading to the local Greek Festival, where we may try to meet up with G-Stamm and his wifey-to-be for some eats, and then it's off to my boy Adam's house for Game 2 of the Stanley Cup finals. A good day ruined by working, as I like to say. Hope the start to your weekend is better. Peace, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
| THE PROMPT: "This is an extra day for the challenge. Your entry here don't affect your standing in our 30-Day Challenge. Just write anything you want. It's your day it's your blog." Good evening everyone! Ahhh, the infamous Day 31 in the "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" . The mountainous and mysterious "Anything Goes" prompt. Which typically happens on a day where nothing goes...or at least nothing goes right.Started my day on the late side, because I was a little under the weather late last night. Feels like I'm coming down with some kind of spring bug, on top of the fact that it was a little chilly last night and I went outside after I showered. Not the right combo for health and wellness. So I made it to work at 8:04am, or in the eyes of the boss, four minutes late. But the time clock wasn't working, so when the time comes to fix my punches for the week, I'll likely get clocked in at 8am. Four more minutes of hourly pay! Whoo hoo! And it was all downhill from there. I don't know what it is lately, but I just wanted to snap. A woman comes up to me and says, "Ok. Where are you hiding the sunglasses?" Lady, this isn't fuckin' Chuck E. Cheese. There aren't wonderments abounding, nor discoveries to be made. We're a damn house of pharmaceuticals and convenience goods. We don't hide nothin'. It's a retail store where you pay money for things in plain sight...like the sunglasses you walked ten feet past on the way to me. After that, I do what everyone in retail does from time to time. I snapped. I got called into the office for something, and before my boss could say anything, I ranted about my story...see, in retail, if you're not a "normal" customer who abides by certain standards, we will talk about you. My boss was in an equally non-plussed mood for different reasons. I let go of my little rant and began to walk away, but it was totally one of those "I called you in here for a reason" moments. Shit. She went on a tirade that I haven't seen in awhile, about some shit someone pulled a few nights ago with rainchecks and how the reports don't match and I was there so what did I know about that and damn if she didn't exhale throughout her bombastic rants. I told her what I knew, which was nothing, and slashed legs back out onto the sales floor. Took my lunch a few minutes later so I could practice exhaling on my own for a half hour. Came back to some cases of detergent and fabric softener to put away. No problem...I loaded up my cart and went to the aisle. Grabbed a bottle of Downy from the case...the biggest damn bottle of fabric softener we carry, and sure enough, since I had it by the cap, the cap slipped off while I had it about halfway out of the case. The bottle bounced back into the case and puked Downy all over me. In my hair, all over my shirt, on my face, and in case you're wondering, it tastes exactly how it smells, only a lot more chemically and gross. I was given a "silver lining scenario" by one of the other managers: "At least it wasn't Drano!" Not helpin' me out there, kid. But at least I smelled nice the rest of the day, and my hands were really soft. Sadly, my mood has still not recovered. MUSICAL BREAK!! In a rare display of anti-enthusiasm, I definitely dropped the MF bomb on the salesfloor as I tasted fabric softener for the first time. And while I can't explain the little dance move that erupted out of me during that experience, I can assure you with 100% certainty it was nothing like this: VITAL STATS: After my verbal lashing with my boss, she mentioned something like "Being a dick to customers isn't gonna get us '9' service" (9 being the highest rating we can get on the stupid survey that customers are encouraged to enter on the bottom of receipts). She also suggested I was in the wrong line of work...and in a rare moment of clarity, around fuckthisshit o'clock this morning, I agreed. From the "Really, That Just Happened??" file: Admidst my irritation that dinner isn't ready yet and I have to go to bed at a reasonable hour tonight, justjessica1's younger son had his girlfriend stop by. And I have a policy with teenagers and significant others: I don't get to know the "other". Reason being is that there's no sense trying to get any bit personally invested in them because you never know how these situations change and fluctuate. I'd hate to really like a kid and think she's a good fit for him, because teenage girls are fickle and what works one day doesn't. That's a waste of knowing someone who you won't know in three or six months.As in many residential neighborhoods, the ice cream truck came rollin' around. The girl heard it and thought it was somebody's cell phone, when the boy informed her it was indeed the ice cream truck. The girl flipped her little girl shit. Apparently, she lives in a part of town that has no sidewalks...and no sidewalks means no ice cream truck. She flew up the basement stairs and outside, screaming, "An ice cream truck! It exists! I thought it was a myth!", like she met Santa Claus and he was real because she tugged hid beard and he was legit. This madness carried on for about ten minutes (we live at one end of the block, and the end is a cul-de-sac, so yeah, took the driver about ten minutes to get down the street and back). Most would find this hilarious, that she's never seen an ice cream truck. Me? I'm still waiting for dinner, and that was almost an hour ago. By the way, when I would stay at my dad's in Lovejoy, when we heard the ice cream man, we grabbed our change, hopped on our bikes, and flew down the streets lookin' for him like we were stalkers. He'd be playin' his jingle and we'd be tryin' to guess what street he was on...that was how it was livin' in the city back in the day. "I think he's down here!" "No! No! He's gotta be over there!" Meanwhile, the folks would laugh 'cuz he'd be on our street by then. And on that note, I'm gonna make like a tree and get the eff outta here. Peace, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
| THE PROMPT: "Thanks I just can't resist it." Hey y'all. Now, I'll be the first to admit that I'll bitch and whine when the prompts in the "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" start to become morose, morbid, and depressing. That's usually when I'm at my sarcastic best . Well, I'm flipping the script on this prompt today. Maybe it'll become a new segment in future months, next to The Files Of Retail Hell and the wildly popular MUSICAL BREAK!! Today we're going with...THANKS, I JUST CAN'T RESIST TEARING INTO SOCIETY Recently, a doctor by the name of James Corasanti, spent the night at a country club with his wife and some friends. They had a few drinks, and he had a few more, and then he popped a bottle of bubbly. His wife left, and shortly after, he hopped in his fancy ride, bumped some Clapton, and was heading home. Down a dark stretch of highway, he felt his car hit something. He thought nothing of it until he got home. It was then that he noticed his car was badly dented. And there was human tissue and blood on the front of his vehicle. He panicked, alerted his wife, and took off. He had a couple of conversations with his neighbors, frantic ones, and eventually someone put him in touch with the authorities...five hours later, when he still had I believe a .10 blood alcohol content (or still .02 above the legal limit). Meanwhile, his wife fled to the scene of the accident, while ambulances were already on the scene, thanks to concerned neighbors and motorists. Alix Rice, 18, was riding her longboard down the street on her way home from her job at a pizzeria. She never had a chance. Corasanti was speeding and texting, and never saw her. Reports say she flew as much as 40 feet, and who knows how long she skidded across the ground after that. Her death was ruled "internal decapitation of the neck". Dr. Corasanti's trial has been going on for a few weeks now, and has captivated the WNY area (the accident being about twenty minutes from here). Tonight, his verdict came down. The charges:  Second-degree manslaughter Second-degree vehicular manslaughter Leaving the scene of an incident without reporting, resulting in death Tampering with physical evidence (two counts) Driving while intoxicated (common law misdemeanor)Here's The Buffalo News' account of the verdict coming down: http://www.buffalonews.com/topics/dr-james-corasanti-trial/article879349.ece Outrage doesn't even come close to what I feel about this subject. You may know me as a man who rarely holds ill will or contempt for people, but this man should rot in hell for the rest of his life and after. Not a single post I saw on Facebook related to this story showed any kind of support for Dr. Corasanti (and there have been more than plenty). Who would feel good about seeing that man's name cleared? The only remorse he showed was for his practice and his standing in the community. It was only after he turned himself in did he ask, "How's the girl? Is she dead?" Whoa...if you claim to not know what you hit, or thought that maybe it was a dog, how'd you know it was a girl? (Ok, maybe the cops would've told him...) But to ask it so callously, man, that's balls. For real? This guy's so drunk five hours after killing someone that that's the only thing he can say? And think about it...if it were you or I or any of the regular folks out there, we'd have been in jail that night with no chance of seeing daylight. He's been free on bail since turning himself in. He's a doctor, he's got plenty of money, and he can afford top defense lawyers. They ripped this poor, deceased girl's character to shreds in the courtroom, in front of her family. I don't doubt corruption for one second in this case. The "good doctor" definitely greased a few palms along the way. His lawyer was a long-time friend! Don't tell me the hometown discount wasn't applied. What does this teach us as a society? Get a designated driver, unless you've got money and connections. Now if you don't mind, there's a couple of annoying skateboarders across the street who tend to be noisy once in awhile. I'm gonna go have about 36 beers and see if I can take one or two out...either with the front bumper, or, if I'm skillful enough, maybe the driver's side door. But I'll act like I hit a dog and couldn't see them. I mean, after all, the precedent has been set, has it not? Thanks folks. I just can't resist tearing into society. MUSICAL BREAK!! Sorry to end the month on that kind of note...luckily I'll get a mulligan tomorrow for a do-over entry where we return to fun times with an open prompt (that doesn't mean much, but whatever; I'll have that). VITAL STATS:  The finals for the most legendary trophy in all of sports, Lord Stanley's Cup, have started. Now seems like a good enough time to start the bandwagon back up for a hockey emoticon on WDC. I love it when you have to be someplace for an appointment, only to rearrange plans to get there, and find out that the person you're meeting with isn't there for the day. Thanks for the heads-up. How about a "smack my damn head" emoticon too, WDC.Alright, I'm checking out tonight. Out of here, at least. Gonna see if there's anymore info on the Corasanti trial. Thanks for putting up with me this month...it's been real. Peace, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
| THE PROMPT: "Sorry but I couldn't accept this gift." -from 30DBC Creator/Founder Good afternoon people? What's up out there? Earl's got the prompt and I've got the laptop, so anything can happen. This is tough. I, like many of you, have probably recieved a useless gift or two on occasion. I dated a girl once who's mom gave me movie passes as a gift one year, presumably to take her daughter on a cinematic adventure. If you've retained any bit of knowledge about me over the course of numerous entries in the "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" , you may recall that I have absolutely zero passion for movies. This feeling was reinforced by the fact that while I wanted to see Will Smith in Ali, the girl wanted to see a Harry Potter flick. I lost that battle.So I'm stuck for a good segue here, since that was a gift I accepted. It would've been rude to decline it, as poorly thought out as it was. I may have inadvertantly made up for it a few months after we broke up. The girl called me out of the blue with "computer problems", that is, "a lame excuse to see me". Told her I'd help her out in exchange for a 12-pack of Heineken. She picked me up, went back to her place, and all she really needed was her speakers plugged in. But what she really wanted to do was proposition me one more time. Being the gentleman that I am and having uninvested myself emotionally from this woman, I took my 12-pack and got out of dodge. See ladies, it's not always about sex. But back to the matter at hand. Refusal is something I believe humans are not cut out for. Saying no to someone's generosity isn't always in our moral constitution...sure, we're supposed to say no, but deep down we crave that gratification for our efforts/services. We desire more than words...mere words. Silly utterances of praise. We want something we can touch, feel, use, and break. I work in retail, and every so often I'm inclined to go above and beyond whatever my job description is. Maybe I'm feeling extra special that day, or maybe common sense dictates that I should offer something more than basic customer service. So say I offer to take an old lady's groceries out to her car, or walk halfway around the store to find whatever they're too lazy to find (even if they walked past it six times on the way to me), and they're so moved by my perceived intention of caring, that they want to brighten my day by slipping me a couple of George Washingtons. "Buy yourself a coffee" they'll say, or something otherwise as witty. In our profession, we are explicitly instructed to turn this offer of a tip down. So I do, as politely and humble as possible. But I have a rule. Because no one's ever paid what they're worth, and no company is going to reimburse me when I do more than what's expected of me at my hourly wage, I take the money and don't think twice. I make sure I refuse once, but if someone's going to insist on handing me free money, well, only a fool wouldn't take it. Because maybe I do need another cup of coffee, thank you. MUSICAL BREAK!! Run DMC never gets old. VITAL STATS:  Insomnia sucks. Woke up bright and early at 3:30am with no chance of falling back asleep until about 7, and was up again about 10am. Or, in the normal people world, maybe the worst time to not be asleep. And now I'm a ball of nerves about to try and get ready for work. Ugh.So I'mma get a shower on and try to work this ragged bag of bones into something profitable today. And I feel like a jerk...got a job offer from an old friend yesterday, told him I'd call him, and I haven't. Well, I've still got a little time before work, so I'll see. Maybe I will, just to hear him out. But me and phones don't do very well. Who knows. Peace, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
THE PROMPT: "Do you have any such thing back from childhood which inspires you to do something new every time you look at it? Tell me about that special treasure in an entry titled: "Cherished Treasure". -from Humming Bird  Good afternoon everyone! Before I even attempt to address today's interesting prompt, I just wanna stop for a minute and say thanks to everyone out there who's fought to build and defend the greatest country in the world. Without you, we'd be speaking French and driving on the other side of the road. To all the people who've ever donned a uniform for our armed forces, peace and thanks. Now, on to today's entry. As sad as it is, outside of a few pictures I swiped from my younger days, when I left home at 17 I took very little with me from the past. Still, I have the genetics. I have the memories and the scars. I have my earliest poems, which nowadays are just what they are: typical teenage poetry. Reading them now doesn't serve to inspire so much as being a barometer for how far I've come working with the written word. I have writing projects that I started when I was younger, but never seemed to finish them. I'd get off to a fast start and then lose interest. I couldn't tell you anymore of their whereabouts, only because I still do happen upon them occasionally but then they get left and forgotten someplace different until the next time I find them. They're almost screenplays in a way, because I envision them to be semi-biographical novels made to be adapted into movies. I could see the scenes in my head when I was writing them, because even though they were intended to be fiction, they were based on events from my life. There are at least two of these unfinished projects that I speak of. One I started right after high school. It centered around our summer, and was probably intended as a way of saying goodbye to our youth and innocence. I had known my best friend since the second grade, and after that summer he was going to college out of state. We spent a lot of that summer travelling to area parks, playing basketball and talking. We went out the night before he left, and it was bittersweet. I still had a lot of figuring out to do with my life; he had a plan and was about to execute it. As he turned the corner toward my street to drop me off, we fell silent. This was our goodbye. I didn't want to look, but something made me. The streetlights illuminated his face, and there was a single tear running down his cheek. As we rounded the block and stopped in front of my house, we were both crying messes. Two 18-year-olds, who knew each other two-thirds of their life, hugging and crying. The second was meant to be a novel in poetic form. Each chapter would be a poem in any given style, structured or free verse. Tones could change, but keep the story fluid. Again, a work of fiction loosely based around my personal experiences. This time about a girl I'd dated and wanted to reconnect with, reimaging our lives as if we never parted ways. I would also tie in experiences I'd had with my best friend after high school. He's always wanted to write a book about his life and his philosophies, and I was going to do it for him. When I was living at 542, I even set up the spare room to be a place where we would write his story, but we never fully took advantage of it. Life is what happens when you're not sitting around, writing about your life. Will I ever revisit these projects? Hard to say. What will be more likely? I'll die, and hopefully all of my works will fall into the proper hands. Then maybe I'll receive the due for my writings that I've been hiding from for so long. It's funny; I just remembered I started a project here on WDC about five years ago. Ten years ago I wrote an entire notebook of poetry that I became so enamored with. It really was the first collection that I was satisfied with from front to back. I had intended to post it in its completed form on WDC. I started it and got maybe halfway through. It had received a lot of positive feedback at the time, but I stalled and forgot about it after awhile. That is one project I'll definitely finish in the next few months, now that I've remembered it...as long as I can find the notebook. If you're interested, it's right here... "Cabin Fever" . Please check it out if you'd like. I recommend starting from post #1, rather than the most recent. Thanks in advance if you do.MUSICAL BREAK!! Upon seeing "treasure" in the prompt, I heard this in my head and giggled.  Hot lyrics and beats by the masters.VITAL STATS:  Took a break after that jam (R.I.P. MCA, the master of the 3rd verse vocal beatdown) and was promptly divebombed by a butterfly on my patio. Don't know how I feel about that. Meanwhile, the bird (looks like a robin) that built a nest on the motion light on our garage was actually standing on top of the nest, rather than just sitting in it and looking like a dead bird. I've never seen this bird move, until now when I walked past it and it flew out in the other direction. I presume he was chasing the butterfly, in an effort to protect me. That's all for today. Still gotta catch up on the happenings here in the world of blogs. Peace, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
THE PROMPT: "My thoughts on caring for a loved one in poor health." -from Happy 2024!  Good evening everyone. I'm not gonna lie...this is uncomfortable for me. I wrote an entire entry this morning and deleted it because it wasn't appropriate. My experiences in this kind of situation are limited basically to all of the people on WDC who are living this scenario right now. And the way my family is...I won't be in it for a long time. Too long for me to think about, anyway. Truth is, I'm a selfish bastard. I won't change the oil in the car by myself, let alone think of trying to take care of someone who's sick. There are people out there who get paid plenty to do those kinds of things, and do them a lot better than I would. Shit, that's why I stopped cutting my own hair years ago. But seriously, deep down, I can't watch people suffer. It breaks my heart. I hate hospitals, and I'm not Superman. If I can't fix it, someone else can. And if someone else can't, well, I can't describe that scene. I can't be there. I can't see it. My memories aren't going to be fixed on what a person looks like as they're dying; I'm going to remember them as they were when they were living. When I was 14 I had an aunt that was diagnosed with cancer. Brain cancer. Every summer, she'd fly me and my brother down to Connecticut for a week, where she'd treat us like kings. She spoiled us rotten, probably because we didn't have anything. But not that summer. When she came home for Christmas that year, she was in remission, but the toll was taken. She'd lost so much weight, and the wig didn't look right. The next year, cancer had come back. Real bad. I was 15 and just started my first job, and my family was basically going to Connecticut to say goodbye. I wasn't going to ask for the time off from work, being the new kid. I stayed home. But really, I didn't want to confront it. I was scared. I was losing one of the most favorite people in my life. I didn't show it on the outside, but inside, I was devastated. I didn't want to see some skinny, depleted woman with an infected skull and have that be my last memory. I wanted to remember her for all of the fun things we did. And that's how I've always been. My family is, for lack of a better way of saying it, now non-existant. Most of my siblings won't speak to me because I didn't see my dad in the hospital when he tried to kill himself. There's way too much to that story to get into now, but I was working 70 hours a week, and he was childish. He had problems and wasn't taking care of himself. If it was that easy to drop everything to see him, I would've...and my half-brother did, but my half-sister didn't. Yet as soon as he got out of the hospital he was asking me for money. Christ, I really don't wanna get into it. The whole thought of the topic is just uncomfortable. MUSICAL BREAK!! They were my first concert, thanks to my now-deceased aunt. VITAL STATS:  Enjoyed a nice barbecue with some old friends today. But if I never hear Madonna again, I'll be ok.That is all for tonight. Tomorrow's Memorial Day, so have fun, be safe, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
| THE PROMPT: "Invalid Entry" What's up y'all? Props to Emily  for today's prompt, piggybacking it to my prompt for yesterday in true "Follow Me" fashion. Well played, girl!  So let's get down to business, shall we? "When I grow up..." Sorry folks. Not happenin'. I've never been married, and my window for kids is slowly closing. I lived the single, frat house rules life for far too long. The first almost 37 years of childhood have been way too real for me. But I'll play along for the sake of playing along. Seems fair. When I grow up, I'll be making more than $10 and change per hour. And my paycheck won't be calculated by how many hours I work. Oh wait, I had a job like that once. And damn was it not a lot of fun. I'll have a wife and a couple of kids. Not a girlfriend. And the kids will be half mine, not half somebody else's. This way, when I bitch about their shitty genes, I only have the people in-house to blame. And I'll be lookin' at my second divorce as well, eventually. I'll have a nice car, paid for by that non-hourly job. It'll have gas and insurance, unlike cars I've owned before. And I won't get speeding or inspection tickets, because my paperwork will be up-to-date. I'll enjoy expensive beers with my rich friends, but only occasionally. Cheap beer is for the unmotivated, slovenly manchilds who don't give much thought to their appearance or their liver. And when I grow up, I'll have no need to jot snarky things online. I'll be sophisticated enough that you will all be able to read my mind, understand what I'm thinking, and laugh the second I raise an eyebrow in your direction. You know, that same way your parents looked at you and made you piss yourself when you knew that they knew you did something wrong. Face it, I'm never gonna change. At 36, I am who I am, and I don't even know who that is, but he's not growing up anytime soon. If anything like that had happened, I'd be all grown up by now. I'll make bad decisions. I'll be lazy. I'll laugh at fart jokes. I'll never get old, and when I do, I'll take my revenge out on people who've reached the same age as me but look and act it, because I'll be prettier than them. I'll be the guy stealin' walkers and wheelchairs. I'll replace your meds with jelly beans. I'll hit on your nurse and take her to dinner. And then make her breakfast in the morning . Why? Because you probably didn't like me when I was a kid, and my rules and lack of moral standards don't get higher just because my number of years alive does. Or like the Twitter kids like to annoyingly do these days (and I swear to you, I'll never type these four letters in this succession ever again), #YOLO!Now, somebody be a dear and go get me another beer. MUSICAL BREAK!! Well, I guess this is growing up. VITAL STATS: Sandwiched a day of work in between a few days off. Then I get to hang out tomorrow with some of my homo friends (and I can say that cuz they're cool with me callin' them homos) for a barbecue. Should be good times in the heart of the city.Not an exciting day by any means. Gonna kick back in the emptiness of the house and catch up on what's goin' down in Blogville. Peace, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! Hahahaha! Urkel really did do that! |
| THE PROMPT: Follow me! "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" Good morning everybody! It feels like mere hours since I was last here...oh wait, it was. I've got to say, I've thought long and hard about having to come up with something for everyone else to talk about. It wasn't easy. And I may be repeating a variation of a previous prompt from another month. But oh well. Here we go. We've all managed to have at least some sort of varying success in our lives...just based on the fact that we have an internet connection and a computer to use to log in at WDC. Most of us have jobs or are retired, which has contributed in one way or another toward keeping the belly full. I was recently talking to a friend the other day about my job. My corporation is doing a major overhaul of its store-level management structure, to hopefully be in effect by 2014. My position is one of the ones slated to be changed. Basically, what I'm figuring based on the lack of communication from my boss, is that I should probably be looking for a new job. So she asked me what I'd really want to do to make a living. Well, I never considered a life in retail, to be honest. But that's pretty much my entire work history. I did manage one year of college, which I admittedly wasn't totally ready for at the time. I wasn't focused or responsible enough. I needed more structure. I barely did work, got horrible grades, skipped a lot of classes, and wasted a lot of time. So it's with a tinge of regret that I can say I would've loved to do the things I actually did in high school and college: work for a newspaper (I had an internship at a local community rag) and be a DJ for a radio station (DJ Buzz was still spinnin' vinyl in '95). The internship was great. I got to cover local sports, write nupitials, and even did a feature that ran county-wide. On top of getting good grades, they thought highly enough of me to actually pay me for some of my work (shhhh, don't tell anyone). And it helped me hone my writing skills. DJ'ing was a blast! I could bring in my own music and play whatever I wanted on the station's open format. I could play rock one minute, hip hop the next, and old school funk later. While songs played I could walk out into the student union and see the reactions of the people. I have a funny story from my days of DJ'ing that I'd like to share. I managed to get a song banned from campus airplay. Every Wednesday, a chick from Planned Parenthood would set up a table outside the cafeteria where she'd hand out free condoms and safe sex literature. Our station was heard in the cafeteria, the lobby outside the cafeteria, the student union upstairs, and in about a 5-mile radius outside the campus. I became friendly with the Planned Parenthood chick, because that's what 19-year-old guys usually do when a hot chick is passing out free condoms. One day she asked me if I knew anything about the radio station, and I told her I was a DJ. She wanted to know if there was a way she could get some time, maybe to do some kind of sexual wellness show. The local rock station had a show where people would call in and ask questions, and it was hosted by one of the morning show hosts and a trained, licensed counselor. The morning show guy sort of played the comedic foil. She wanted to do something like that, only instead of having people call in, maybe we could leave a drop box somewhere so that people could leave questions anonymously. I gave her my number and said that after the semester break I'd talk to the program director about the idea for her show. That afternoon I went in for my time slot. Our only requirements were that we said the station name four times an hour, and read some occasional PSA's. I figured I'd be nice and mention that the Planned Parenthood chick was downstairs handing out free rubbers and taking questions, and then played a song that was popular at the time and relevant to what I was talking about. Well, it turns out that the wife of one of the school's super-important people was in the student union at the time, and found that my song was very distasteful and not something college students should be listening to. The decision was made instantly to ban the song entirely from our airwaves. I guess you can call what you're doing a success whenever someone is trying to censor you. So follow that, bloggers. What would you be doing if you weren't doing what you're doing to earn a living? MUSICAL BREAK!! And just what was that harmless song that got banned from ECC South Campus that fateful Wednesday? Oh, and that Planned Parenthood chick? She never called me back...and was not on the premises the following week (or semester). My entrance into the world of talk shows never happened. VITAL STATS:  I'm not a very handy person when it comes to tools, but it looks like I may have a project on my hands. Just what I dreamed I'd be doing on my day off  . Our garage door opener is seriously one of the first automatic garage door openers known to mankind. The remote is so old, big and chunky, and in the winter it feels like it takes five minutes for the door to open. And we only have one remote, which stays in the car. Well, apparently, the lock on the side door is busted...you put the key in it and it just spins without unlocking the door. And the way the mechanics are with this opener, you can't just lift the garage door from outside to open the door. So it looks like I'm gonna hafta break in to my garage. Oh, and get a new damn doorknob as well.  There's your entry for today, folks. Have fun following it. I'm off to play the criminal, then grocery shop and do all sorts of other things not involving nice weather. Peace, and GOODNIGHT NOW!!  |
| THE PROMPT: "Basically, if you wish to talk about your misdeeds, talk about them. Should you wish to plead the Fifth, talk about your heroics. If you wish to plead the Fifth on that, just blog about your day. If you want to plead the Fifth on that... you're on your own." Good evening everybody...this tired soul doesn't have a lot to say tonight, but I appreciate that BIG BAD WOLF is hopping has given us some options today.Good lord, I could spend days talking about my misdeeds! And that could be good times, full of juicy stories and humiliating details. But I'm not going there. Sorry to disappoint (*notices the sounds of half of my viewers clicking on the red "X" button on the top right of their screens*). I'll take the fifth for that. And I can brag and boast with the best of 'em, but I choose not to. I prefer to keep it humble that way. Let's just say I do some good things sometimes, but I am, by any stretch of the definition, no hero. Maybe in some small ways, people seem to think I am, for whatever reason. But I've never jumped into a burning building, leapt in front of a bus, or otherwise saved anyone's life. There's heroes out there for a reason. I'm not one, and I'll take the fifth for that too. People, I'd blog about my day if it were worthy of the space I pay for to create things here, but naw man, can't even do that. Woke up way too early, unloaded a truck, taxed my body a lot (thank you, heart meds...not really), and came home to essentially a quiet house. And yes, I'll take another fifth for that. So I'm on my own, literally and figuratively. I'm calling house rules and taking a fifth for that too. So the scorecard reads: four fifths. And since Crown Royal doesn't come in fifths, you all owe me a total of four fifths of Southern Comfort. And I'd bill ya for it, but I don't feel like walking to the liquor store. So I guess I'm peaced out on that thought. Which I don't mind anyway; can't do hard liquor quite the same as I could back in the day. Which I'm fine with. Speaking of Crown Royal, I bumped into an old friend yesterday. I miss that cat. Our sisters were in the same grade, and close friends for awhile. But since my sister had a different mother, she lived with my father a village over, and I only got to hang out with him once in awhile. That is, until we grew up into hell-raising adults (see the above paragraph regarding misdeeds...we have plenty). We hung out, well, I wouldn't say fairly often, but often enough. We were close enough that I'd invite him over to my apartment for a few beers, or just hit a bar, or just cause some trouble. He stole the girl I wanted to date; I hooked up with his sister (who turned out to be a great woman in her own right; another regret over someone I didn't hold on to). And through it all, we've remained amicable. When I was in high school, I played pick-up football in the neighborhood with a bunch of kids. After we all graduated, I stayed in touch with a few, and we'd get together once in awhile. I had moved to a new neighborhood, met new people, played football with them, but this guy was the guy I brought back into my old 'hood. He was like me...fast, not a lot of size, but tenacious and reckless on the field. And we were rarely on the same team...we were usually the two fastest guys on the field. So we'd spend afternoons matching up with each other, basically cancelling each other out unless one of us got a step on the other. We were a long-distance show on the football field. And later on, we were the best guys to be around at the bar. Karaoke, shots, women, good times. They were all had. And of course, time does change things. Life happens and you grow apart, but these small towns around here never let you fully detatch from anyone unless it's serious. And I mean serious. The names on the bars might change, the names of the girls will change, the beverage in your glass may change, but the good times...the memories, they're always there. I barely recognized him when he came in to my store yesterday, but I knew the voice. My eyes aren't as good as they used to be, but as he approached with his hand out to shake, I knew instantly who it was. And I'll rarely spend time on the salesfloor with friends, catching up (especially if my boss is around), but there was no way I was gonna let the moment slip without talkin' for a few minutes. And sure, we've got Facebook and all that shit, but nothing compares to talking to an old friend in person. Like I said, we went though some shit over the years, but we've manned up to each other, and to be able to see past everything is one of life's greatest blessings. He's been diagnosed with MS, battling it like the champ he was when we'd battle on the football field. Unlike me, he's got a few grays now, but he's still the same chill kid I met almost 20 years ago, but with a kid. The same wit, the same passion for life, only now it's even better. We talked about our health, and changes we made...less beer, less shots of Crown, a healthier diet, etc. We talked about his family. I couldn't be happier for the guy. I don't have many regrets in life. And I've done a lot of things I should regret, but don't. And I regret, at about 3:15pm yesterday (when my shift ended at 4), not asking him if he wanted to hang out and grab a beer or something. I really should've. I think we would've enjoyed that. MUSICAL BREAK!! This was a staple at the old Razzberries, one of the places we would hang. Mondays (because everyone goes drinking on a Monday ) was karaoke night. We'd request the original version of this song, and sing it like this. And for every person we pissed off on any given night, two more people loved it. And I doubt that he reads this, but this is for DJ Seanny at the Blu Grille. Good times, my man. You were the only one who could keep up with me, and I'm glad you stopped in the other day. Hopefully, another time soon.VITAL STATS:  Yes, I just Limp Bizkit'd you. I apologize. I need to catch up on blogs. Bigtime. Soooooo far behind.And with that, I'mma get off this thing for a minute and catch my breath. Y'all are some good people out there! Do me a favor and tell someone you love them tonight, because they deserve it. They don't need a reason, and neither do you. So just do it. Peace, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
| THE PROMPT: "Invalid Entry" What's good, fine purveyors of internet literature at its illest? Gonna try to get this over in a hurry before the beer and my patience for lack of sleep run out. I've been rackin' my brain tryin' to figure out where to go with Yera ~Twelve!~ 's prompt for a good part of the day, and I came up with something I'd like to share. Dunno if it fits the task at hand, but you'll have that.A few years back, I worked for a rival drug store chain that has subsequently been bought over and over again, so it no longer exists. It was a 15 minute walk at worst from my house, which was nice. I had recently been promoted to run their photo lab. I celebrated by taking a vacation. I'd become awfully close with a nice young lady on WDC; it went from exchanging emails to phone calls to gifts and a lot more. She'd recently moved to NYC, so I hopped a train and met her up there. I'll spare you the details. It didn't go well. I committed several "whoops", she's not on WDC anymore, and we barely speak. But that's not the point. The train ride home itself was a disaster. I actually went to Penn Station early, hoping to catch an earlier train home (because arriving at home at 9:30pm is a lot more pallatable than 11:35pm). And it was cool; I was set to go. Then the screens started showing "CANCELLED" for every outbound train. I was short on cell minutes, and cash. I was stuck in NYC. Turned out there was a fire in one of the terminals, and with it being so close after 9/11, they shut the whole place down. They tarped over all of the entrances. This was when it was still legal to (not get caught) smoking in bathrooms in NYC. Thank God...I was starting to lose my shit in there. Around 8pm, they bussed us up to Albany, where we waited like hostages for an emergency train to take us back to The 'Lo. I got a hold of my stepmother and my boss, and explained the situation. Everything was cool. Except sitting in the food train and not getting home until 6am, when I had to be to work at 8:30am. But I made it to work, punched my clock, delivered the goods, and I was done with NYC for good. The next day was a Tuesday, which was one of my "long days" (open to close, 8:30am to 9:30pm). That's what you do on a 50-hour week when you're salaried at chump change in a semi-management position that also offers you the keys to the building. The manager was working her night shift, had knee problems, and couldn't climb ladders. It was slow in the lab, so I offered to help her out by putting the summer goods away. It was late September or early October...I'm fuzzy on the date. Being a semi-member of management, and having a set of keys, I was allowed certain privileges. One of them was climbing a ladder. I was 28 at the time, I believe the accident report would state. But my brain would tell my I was still in my prime, athletically. I used to hop the shelves in the stockroom like a monkey. I could climb them as if I were still a kid, climbing trees. I'd hop around them like I was dancin' on Soul Train. Or Solid Gold. Take your pick. So I get on this 15-foot ladder to move some product around, and I decide it's time to step up on to the top of the bay I'm placing product on. But the bay is packed, and I barely have enough room to shimmy along across it. Product was placed. Mission complete. I shimmy back over to the ladder, and while feeling the way along poducts with my hands, my foot is reaching for the ladder, as I'm now about 20 feet above the ground. I stepped where I thought the ladder was, but, uhhh, there was no ladder there. The shelf, made of painted metal, wasn't so nice to my grip. I conceded myself to falling from twenty feet off the ground, onto a concrete floor. I let myself freefall in the short window I had before I hit the ground. At the last possible moment, I had the presence of mind to tuck my head into my chest, so I wouldn't crack my dome. My head's been through enough shit before that, physically and mentally otherwise, than to let that happen. I struck the ground nearly flat on my back. I laid there for a second, and took inventory of my body, Transformers style...arm, leg, leg, arm, head, check. My manager was at the other end of the stockroom, and was horrified. She'd been helping out at the building of a new location, where an electrician died after a 50-foot drop the week before. She heard me moan on the way down and thought the worst. As soon as I exhaled from it all, a 15-inch box fan fell on my chest from 20 feet up. But that story doesn't end there, y'all. As if that wasn't the icing on the "falling from a shelf" cake. I wound up twisting an ankle pretty bad...bad enough to seek medical attention later in the week, on the company dime. And I had my house keys in my back pocket...so my ass looked like a mosaic for a week or two. The ankle? I've ruined both before. But I've never been so colored on the flesh of my ass in my life. And it's ruined me for ladders. For life. If I fail at my current job (and let's not get into that right now), I won't advance because I'm not crazy about ladders. All from that little "whoops". I called the NYC girl afterwards...to let her know I got home after a struggle, and to tell her I got hurt at work. She didn't care. Whoops! MUSICAL BREAK!! This song was in my head all day while thinking about the prompt. Well, when I wasn't thinking about other things. Yes, I went old school there. I still have that cassette single, and something to play it on. VITAL STATS:  Is it time for me to go to bed yet? I'm pulling truck tomorrow at 5:45am. Not thrilled about the scheduling error that led to me being the most adaptable and place-fitting employee ever, but FML when I get my annual review and my boss shits on me because I've been late too many times. I know my value, but I won't get rewarded for it. Fuckin' corporations.  At least I'm out by 1:45 and can have the rest of the afternoon to sleep do pretty much what I want. And I'll probably sleep.Mixed emotions kind of day. If I told ya, I'd have to kill ya. Peace, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! Whoops! |
| THE PROMPT: "What are your views on waiting for things? Are you patient or do you stress about it? What sort of things do you do to pass the time while waiting? Talk about, was it worth the wait, or all just a bunch of wasted time? (You don't have to mention me in your entry.)" What's up y'all? Brother Nature  's here with his prompt, so I'll bang out my entry while I'm killin' time waiting to go to work.When I was younger, I definitely lacked patience. No matter what; you name it. Everything was "bigger, better, faster, more", and that's not just the name of a 4 Non Blondes album (whatever happened to them anyway?). I couldn't wait for what was next in anything. Now, I'm a little older, and perhaps a bit wiser. I recognize the value in waiting for things. Like in football, for instance. Being a good running back isn't just about being stronger and faster. It's about being smart enough to wait for a play to develop...trusting your blockers to open things up for you, and waiting for the right opportunity to let your athleticism take over. Or in music...maybe you'd like your favorite artists to come out with new music at a quicker pace. But in waiting, you realize that they're tweaking their art so that the final product is the best set of music they can possibly produce. And in life, sometimes waiting and having patience allows you time to better plan things, gain perspective you might not have had if you'd rushed into a decision, and lets your hopes and dreams grow, so that when the time is right, you can fully appreciate them even more. There's truth to the old saying, "Good things come to those who wait." I've learned that having patience is a lot better than to stress out over the outcome. Everything happens for a reason, all in due time, yadda yadda yadda. I can spit at you all sorts of mad cliches about the topic, but they're all pretty much true. Except the one about the early bird, cuz we all know he still gets the worm. But the late bird gets the warm spot in the nest, fo' sho'. One last thought...it's not about what you do to pass the time. Some read, some sleep, some eat (too much). I guess it depends on what you're waiting for. If I'm going to the doctor, I like to have a newspaper. When I'm killing time before work, I'm probably looking up useless knowledge on the internet. When I'm waiting for my shift to end at work, I try to look busy...and sometimes I manage to accomplish things along the way. But the key thing is managing expectations. I like to live by the saying, "He who expects little is seldom disappointed." I try not to get my hopes up. And I try not to think the worst (which in some scenarios is a very hard thing to do). I'd rather be pleasantly surprised rather than largely disappointed. And that's the difference you achieve when something is worth the wait. MUSICAL BREAK!! Bet you couldn't wait for me to shut up and get to this part! VITAL STATS: Have to share my boy G-Stamm's Facebook status here, because it's pretty fitting about the consequences of waiting. G-Stamm: "And the award for Brilliant Parent of the Month goes to: The lady this morning who showed up 10 minutes after we opened, and 20 minutes before her order was due, demanding to know why wasn't done yet. Cause, ya know, complex computers and machines only take 5 seconds to boot up. Maybe you shouldn't wait until the morning your kid's project is due, to start working on it? Looks like someone really needed to get a watch for Mother's Day." Boycott corporate pizza. (See yesterday for details.)Ok folks, time to wrap this up for a day. I'll play some catch-up and grab a snack before torturing myself for the next eight hours. And tomorrow I'll do it all again. Peace, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
| THE PROMPT: "Since Brother hasn't initiated today's blog, how about we just blog about our day." I agree, friends. What's up now? I was looking forward to my Canadian brother from another mother Brother Nature 's prompt and outlook. Instead, I get BIG BAD WOLF is hopping 's consensus. You'll have that for tonight folks, about five hours after I had decided I was ready to commit an entry.So we ordered pizza from another giant corporate pizza chain tonight, Papa John's. And it wasn't good. The only allure is that they recently opened in the area (after having to watch their commercials for years during football games), and we had some coupons. And it sucked. It doesn't even deserve me putting it in italics; it sucked that bad. Pizza Hut. Dominoes. Little Caesers. And now Papa John's. I could name at least five pizza places, locally owned, on the way to any of these chumps, that has better pizza. And fuck it, it's worth it to spend the few extra bucks to support the local businesses. And it's not just about the pizza. It's the wings, the subs, the tacos, all of that! This is Buffalo, fools. Don't be bringin' your cardboard pizza around here anytime soon, no matter how cheap you price it. Cuz cheap, well, is just cheap. MUSICAL BREAK!! Yup, this was me this morning. Because in my mind, I'll never get old. VITAL STATS: Relatively easy day. But then again, it's all relative.And I'm tired, so I'm gonna head on the hell outta here. Sleep in tomorrow, work a night shift, sleep a little more, and pray for Friday. Peace, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! Don't do it. Like a fake, CGI'd Jerry Jones, just as fake is the pizza. |
| THE PROMPT: "One of My Embarrassing Moments" What's up, players? I've got a steak marinating and a grill ready to fry it up nice. Plenty of PBR in the fridge to wash it all down. blainecindy has me turnin' off the music for today's prompt. As per my own personal protocol, I shut the music off when I'm writing. Closed out Facebook too. Don't need any distractions when I'm making magic out of words with less than four syllables. Now, what I'm about to share isn't an embarrassing moment for me, per se. I would never do that. Why would I? I mean, I'm <insert awesome verb I insinuated I was a week or two ago that I can't remember now> swaggering swagger. But the situation I'm about to relate could be embarrassing, depending on the cast of characters. FROM THE FILES OF RETAIL HELL, AN EXCLUSIVE! I may have told this story before. And if I haven't, well, I haven't told a good story lately about lube. So here's one. G-Stamm takes a call from a customer. It appears that she's found a receipt from our store amongst her husband's belongings. "Can you explain to me what these things are?" she asked. At the time, our receipts were pretty basic. The descriptions of products were very abbreviated. And as for this conversation, they went like this (more or less): DRX 12 LUBR SENS K-Y 3.8OZ And this woman is legitimately concerned. So my boy jots down what he hears, and checks it out. Turns out it was a 12-pack of Durex condoms and a bottle of lube. The woman was aghast. "What would my husband need that for??" she asked. Well, I guess if you have to ask, you'll never know. Poor lady. MUSICAL BREAK!! In honor of the official busting-out of the grill (apologies to the Sahlen's hot dogs we had last month...because marinated steak is that much better), I offer this... VITAL STATS:  Here's an embarrassing article I read today in The Buffalo News: https://www.tampabay.com/news/perspective/the-levi-strauss-miracle-diet/1230791It's funny that it's not on TBN's website, and this is one of the sites that came up when I Google'd it. Ugh. I'm gonna get in the shower. I'm wiped out from the little weeding I did, the bringing out of the yard accessories, and a nice meal. Peace, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
| THE PROMPT: "Snow ~ Somewhere ... Some when ..." Good evening from the sunny suburbs of Buffalo, friends, where the ol' mercury topped out at around 80 today. Word on the street is that tomorrow's gonna be even better. Add a day off to that equation, and my Italian skin might get a little darker. You can take that to the bank. I'm a little pissed. I had an entry all set to go, opened another tab, and totally accidently closed the tab I was writing in. Totally lost an entry. So this is now what it's gonna be like to try and recreate it. We've been graced by Prosperous Snow celebrating  with a beautifully poetic entry. And I gotta tell you...ain't no toppin' that, and that's my word. I went all mock-lounge lyrically last night, and I'm not sure I can do it again. But I am intrigued my the thought that the prompt could make an awesome title for a poem, although my head doesn't want my heart to push my hands in that direction at this time.But I've been feeling fanciful lately. It's springtime in full e-f-f-e-c-t, yo, and it's almost my favorite time of the year. The weather's nice. Everything renews. Growth of all kinds start to occur. It's almost romantic in a way. Ah, the hell with it. Let's do one for the lovers out there. This time, with feeling. Somewhere Some When Somewhere there you are. Someplace where you stay. When the sun's upon you it chases the clouds away. Somewhere there I am. Someplace I remain. I fill myself with hope when the world starts to rain. Somewhere there you are. Someplace far from here. When the whens become then, we'll watch somewhere disappear. Somewhere there I am. Someplace far from there. When the whens become then, we'll be someplace we can both call here. And with that said, I won't put my poetry against anyone else's. But of all the things I've written in the blog arena, this might be port-worthy. And the original is slighty better...but it's lost forever in cyber-purgatory. If anyone sees it, hit me up. MUSICAL BREAK!! If there's ever been a week to live for, I'll take this one. VITAL STATS: Walking around at work is become physically exhausting. And that's what I did all day, while counting things. I got caught up on all my weekly counts. I feel accomplished, but I haven't gotten used to the feeling of being drained at the end of my shift. Not leaving directly after doesn't help either, but at least I didn't need to lay down and psuedo-nap, although I probably could've. Might tackle the weeding tomorrow. We'll see. I have the motivation...if I sleep long enough, I'll be able to do it for as long as the blood pressure meds let me. And let's hope I don't pass out in the sun. That's what we like to refer to around these here parts as "not a win-win situation".Ok, well, I'm gonna try to move on from this for the evening, tuck my dissatisfaction with myself in my back pocket for accidently closing out this tab when I was practically done and foolishly didn't copy/paste, and see what's going on out there, both around me and not. Peace, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
| THE PROMPT: "Something's Telling Me It Might Be You" What's up y'all? I have to tell you, I love this prompt from 30DBC Creator/Founder . Wanna know why? Well, I'm too young to have memories, but I have the music, and it totally sounds like it could be something Frank Sinatra or Dean Martin sang back in the day. I see a nice lounge with a tiny corner stage, barely big enough to fit a tiny band. The men are in suits, and the singer's tie is slightly undone and the collar's been loosened. He may or may not have been comped one too many gin and tonics at the bar, but when he sways it's still to the beat. The women want him, and the men want whatever he's drinkin'. At worst, it reminds me of terrible 70's AM radio soft rock, sung by a dude who never had another hit record again and probably never knew what it was like to be able to say those words to anyone before. He toured the hell outta that album, lost his virginity to a groupie, lost his earnings to coke, recovered, tried a brief comeback as a pop singer, relapsed, ended up on Oprah, and now he's sellin' insurance and living in his parents' basement. I could get philosophical, and ask, "Which of these scenarios are you?", but I won't. It's not my turn to write the prompt, and it's even more likely that neither of them are. So I'll do the next best thing, and get all sing-songy on ya. Something's Telling Me It Might Be You Who's the girl who puts the shine in my sun? Who brings the vodka when I run out of rum? She does the dishes and cooks for me too... and something's telling me it might be you. I know a girl who can dress like a lady and when she talks, she cusses like crazy. When we're alone she's never a prude... and something's telling me it might be you. She changes the oil in the car. She picks up the tab at the bar. She punches other girls checkin' me out. She doesn't argue, she just shouts. She puts out her cigarettes with spit. Her stories are almost legit. She crosses her legs with more legs. She likes beer with her bacon and eggs. Darlin', every word I sing here is true... and something's telling me it might be you. Yeah, she's crazy but I guess I am too... and something's telling me it might be you. It might be you! MUSICAL BREAK!! I thought about maybe playing something loungey, something old. And then I remembered this amazing gem while searching Youtube. Sinatra it is! VITAL STATS: I did a very bad thing today. Very bad. I injured an old lady. Story time!I went to Arby's on my lunch break, 'cuz that's what I do. Since the district manager was in doing a visit, I ate in the breakroom instead of the office. There's a door on the sales floor that opens into a hallway; on the right is the ladies' room, water fountains, a closet with a mop sink, and the mens' room, and the breakroom is on the left. This door has a window, but I usually don't pay any attention unless I actually see someone coming out (and honestly, the opportunity is rare when two people are using that door at the same time). There was nothing in the window, nothing in my periph to catch, so I opened this door like I have hundreds of times before and began to walk through it. Then I heard a clunk as the door bounced back at me, and a lady yelling, "Jesus Christ!". I was lucky enough not to walk into the door as I jumped back and my heart raced a bit. And boy was this lady pissed. I guess I would be too if I just got my dome clocked by a door. The only way I see this happening is that she was looking down, reaching for the door handle while I was walking in; thus, putting her out of the window's view. It had to be the perfect storm of events. She bitched and moaned and looked slightly disoriented. "I could've had a skull fracture!" she said, as she backed away and went back into the bathroom, while I was apologizing like crazy. I felt really bad. But I was on my own time, not the company's, and I was hungry so I sat down to eat. The woman came into our breakroom. Her glasses were bent. She said she was ok, and she knew it was an accident, but, "Jesus Christ, what else is going to go wrong today!" I again apologized, asked her if I could do anything for her, and finished my meal after she declined and left... ...to talk to the store manager. Who had to file an accident report. Who came into the breakroom and was like, "Really? Really? You just hit an old lady with a door?" I explained the situation, told her it was an accident, told her I apologized, and my boss was like, "She was Jesus Christin' you up and down! Her glasses are bent, she's got to go for a mammogram at two, she's not sure she can drive...this woman's pissed! I couldn't even get the info I needed out of her to file a claim without 'Jesus Christ' this and 'Jesus Christ' that, and how she could have an orbital fracture." Apparrently, I hit the wrong senior citizen to fuck with. But is it wrong of me to think that maybe, after everything she said not only about me, but her conditions, if I hit her a little harder, she wouldn't be suffering anymore? Yes, I'm that kind of jerk. What makes it worse? After my break, I went to the door that leads to the time clock, lockers and office. I saw my manager and district manager walking up the aisle toward me. I stopped at the door, looked at them, looked in the window with my hand above my eyes as if I were looking into the distance, and looked that them, who were laughing. My boss looked at me and said, "You're such an ass!" Jokes abounded all day. Because we're horrible people who have not bought tickets to hell...not season passes...but personal seat licenses to every event Hell will ever offer. Later in the day, my boss is telling me about how crazy her mother's been acting. I told her to have her come in and stay for awhile, and when she goes to the bathroom...she just busted out laughing. I did feel really bad though. Didn't want y'all to think I was totally heartless. And with that, I've got other things to do, so I'll leave you with the worst impression of me I possibly could leave. Peace, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
| THE PROMPT: "The reason I was born into the world." Good evening fine readers. blainecindy has graced us with today's humbling prompt, which I am ready to disassemble into something that may wind up looking much like the opposite of her statement (meaning, "reasons I shouldn't be allowed to mingle with the others"). I was put here to laugh. I'm not the funniest guy, and I've got quite the repertoire of cornball humor, but occasionally I can bust out a line or two that brings the whole room down in laughter. That there alone is worth enough, when I see that look of unadulterated enjoyment on people's faces, to say it's a good life. Boom. Entry completed? Nope. I've always believed in the "give one, get two" theory. As in, make a joke about your friend (in good fun, of course), expect to be the butt of the joke twice in return. So, with the great power of laughter, so comes the great responsibilty of taking the joke. It's a lesson I've learned the hard way at first, but being able to laugh at yourself is a wonderful science that, when applied correctly, can endear you to almost anyone..."Oh, look at him! Poor guy! He's so stupid he's cute!" The things I've been able to prove to the world already and can die knowing I made an impact somewhere: White men (5'6") can jump. Any idiot with two feet can dance. And some do it better than others. I can dance. Most will disagree. Any idiot with a computer and a decent internet connection can write a blog. Not many can say they've won some awards for it. But I can. Words...they apparently aren't for everyone. My head may be more than a hatrack, but my face won't pay the rent.But the one thing...the "main reason", as I like to call it when we're having a discussion like this where we talk out our reasons for being here, the reason I was born into world? To create. Whether it's what you're reading now, or busting a few rhymes to make someone smile, or put together a gift for someone, or whip up a crazy recipe just to make a meal, creation is the heart of it. I can't sit still; my mind doesn't have an off switch. Ideas are always swirling around in my head about something. Some people are born doing what they love. Some can pick up a skill or a hobby at an early age, be lucky enough to turn it into a career, and then wind up being miserable the rest of their lives because their "fun" has become a job. I aspired once to be a journalist, and enjoyed studying and working at it, but in the end I was never able to attain that goal. In some ways, I consider myself lucky for that. I couldn't imagine working for a newspaper or a radio station all day, and then coming home and writing about it. But it would've been a pretty sweet gig. I guess I was put here for other reasons instead. MUSICAL BREAK!! I once spent over an hour in a barber's chair, with two Supercuts stylists, trying do get them to cut my hair like this legend's. It barely worked. I'd never in my life had to use a blow dryer to style my hair, but for about a week or so I looked like the younger version of this dapper gentleman, only I wore glasses. And he's better looking. VITAL STATS:  Fly your disco flags at half-mast tonight for legendary singer Donna Summer. May she rest in peace. Battled 5:45am righteously at work today, and paid for it by getting the corner of a box being launched off the delivery truck into the dead-center of my left palm. Not cool, cuz anything dead-center in the palm is plenty to make the hand ache just enough to remind you that you were at work way too damn early. Plus, I've got a nice, circular cut now inside my palm, prompting G-Stamm to say, "You really are Photo Jesus now, aren't you?" OK. Time to move on to other plans for the evening. I'll check you guys out and call it a night...these meds are killin' me by the time I'm done with work, so it'd probably be wise to head to bed at a decent hour. Peace, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
| THE PROMPT: "Invalid Entry" Good afternoon from the sunny, breezy suburbs of Buffalo! Bonnie14222 has a pretty interesting entry today, and I'd like to add my two cents to it. Keep the change .I truly think I do suffer from some form of Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD). And I actually spoke to a therapist once who agreed, even though she herself was a little on the, ummm, let's just say she was a little on the odd side. What is SAD? http://www.webmd.com/depression/guide/seasonal-affective-disorder Read about it yourselves. I'm too lazy to explain it to you. My SAD is more like a manic/depressive version. I get the typical winter version. Something about the cold and snow always seems to cast a cloud of gloom over me. Irritability is like spare change in the penny jar on the counter. I want to do less, see less, be less. I will, in fact, cop to having a "Brian Wilson" experience one winter. I barely left the house, I slept all the time, and was out of focus and sorts when I wasn't sleeping. Having lived through that though was a calming learning experience, in only the sense that I wish not to do that again. But in the summer, my mood levels are drastically different. Not to sound corny (CLICHE ALERT!!), but springtime really does seem to put a spring in my step. The sun and its warmth really do make a difference. I want to go places, and not just go places, but go places with an exclamation point added for emphasis. I don't just want to party, I want to be the party. Everything just seems more open and alive when the sun's out and the weather's warm. And that, folks, is a feeling I never want to chase away. MUSICAL BREAK!! Ahhhh, yes, he's back, ladies and gentlemen! Back up in this concert hall of internet loveliness, at least. The only man that will ever be described with words that come out of my mouth as being "The Sexiest Man Alive", from the Canadas of your romantic old souls, I give you this... VITAL STATS: Lotta running around today. The hospital for bloodwork, the bank, the grocery store...all to find the last two destinations didn't need to happen. One of the boys was going to bring his girlfriend over for dinner, so we needed food, which meant we needed money, which is now money we didn't have to spend on food that we're not going to eat today because the kid decided to stay at her house for dinner. Which is good, 'cuz I don't feel like cooking and I'm still pretty set after the bagel from Tim Hortons inside Tops. And that's been my day in a nutshell of sorts. Cashews, to be exact. When I'm ever explaining something in a nutshell, be aware that the nut I'm speaking of is a cashew. Glad we've cleared that up. Peace, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
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I'm glad you read and enjoyed this, Ann...I know if I were ever presented with the same situation again I wouldn't be as uncomfortable. It's amazing to see how things have changed in five years...I can only imagine how much perception has changed over the last 50. I've always felt that gays were no more or no less than anyone else, and you're absolutely right that they are just like everyone else in 99% of activities. And if that 1% is what creeps people out, well, it's none of their business anyway...and there are better, more tactful ways to respond than with hatred.
