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 |   A third attempt at this blogging business. |
 30-DAY BLOG CHALLENGE WINNER FOR SEPTEMBER 2011 AND APRIL 2012!!  BLOGGING CIRCLE OF FRIENDS "BLOGGER OF THE WEEK" MAY, SEPTEMBER, AND NOVEMBER 2013 JANUARY, FEBRUARY, AND JUNE 2014 After 380 entries and over 17,600 views, it was time to retire "Who Do I Think I Am??"  . Expect more of the same shenanigans and troublemaking you've come to know and love from me over the last few years. Tell all your friends, warn your family and hide this from your neighbors...this isn't your average blog.   
Thanks for stopping by and showing your support!    THIS BLOG IS NOW CLOSED.
Continue along on my journey over at "Still Figurin' Out Who I Think I Am" . |
| 30DBC PROMPT: Wow...I really need to pay attention during the unofficial months of the "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" . I would've loved to take part in something scaled back a little bit, but I was busy running another endeavor into the ground (more about that in a little bit). What's up folks? How's everyone been? My blog calendar lies...it says it's been ten entire days since my last update here, but my last entry is from, like, I dunno, some time back in November when I could wear shorts because I didn't have to worry if my jeans would still fit. Well, it's December...nearing the middle- actually, let's be formal and call it The Middle Third- and it's snowing like it's the end of the world (and the aftermath is supposed to be some kind of frozen-over prototype of Hell), and- oh! Yeah...after hardly ever wearing jeans for most of the last year and a half for reasons partially related to me attempting to show that there's still some athletic skill left in this now 38-year-old body, I no longer own a pair of jeans I can safely fasten without breaking blood vessels in my eyes while attempting to inhale. If I can even get them past my now-thunderous thighs. Can I get another Reese's peanut butter cup please? Just unwrap it and aim it at my mouth...it'll find its way in. Thanks. Let's reminisce, shall we? Because let's face it, my writing schedule these days is about as dependable as my athleticism.  + [ x  ] /  = And that's another reason why we don't do math in these here hallowed halls of internet hysteria. Now if there were an emoticon of a GIF of the "man" emoticon limping, that'd be me, and hey, I've got an idea...why don't we SHUT THE HELL UP NOW. JUST...NO. STOP. (Like I said, more on that later). BCF PROMPT: "Write a story or a poem about your favorite holiday." Well, since I've been away for awhile, it's time to play catch-up. And since I'm not feeling the need to be poetic, I'll just recap in my usual form what went down recently, like a story. It shall be Thanksgiving-themed, because that's my favorite holiday. See? It's like a win-win for everyone! I actually made it (sorta) back home to WNY for that particular weekend. Plans were all up in the air, because it all depended on the weather in the area where my mom lives. It was supposed to be crappy here in CNY, and crappier there, and were that really the case, then it would've been a no-go. Which I would've completely understood...who wants to drive three hours to get me, and then drive three hours back, in a snowstorm? We figured we would've known by the Tuesday night before, so I could have time to pack and be ready. We got a little bit of snow in Cortland, but the Buffalo area was supposed to get pounded with the Lake Effect stuff, which throws me into all sorts of confusion because my Facebook feed still has all the local weather personalities from WNY cluttering up my feed, and none of the Cortland/Syracuse weather people, because screw them, and while Buffalo's getting blasted and panicking and old ladies are scouring every store they can for milk and toilet paper, I'm chillin' in shorts with the windows open here listening to the rain hit and the drunk college girls get stupid 'cuz the rain might ruin their $189 Uggz. It still boggles my mind that it seems like the dollar amount spent on clothing runs directly opposite in proportion to its functionality, but maybe that's too many hard winters spent toughin' it out in hand-knitted mittens that soak up all the snow the minute you try to make a snowball talkin'. Anyway, so I made it back to the town my mom lives in now, which is not really close to the Buffalo I know, but for frame-of-reference activities it's Buffalo (although I did not get to Mighty Taco or Ted's or anywhere else in-between, and that's ok because there'll always be another chance for that). We had a full-blown turkey feast at my brother's friend's house, which was awesome because they're great people and were more than accommodating. I was, in complete disclosure of this sounding like a cliche, very thankful. After dinner, I hung out with out host family's son (shout-out to my boy Cullen!!) who's seven years old and has Spina Bifida and gets around better on his elbows than I sometimes do on my legs (and I mean that with the utmost respect). He's a great kid...very engaging with a wonderful personality. He's sharp too...he caught on to all my little tricks while we were trying to play the Spongebob version of Ants In The Pants. Not that I'd try to cheat a kid out of a children's' game that requires skill and coordination, but c'mon, a game called "Ants In The Pants" in this day and age is something that 1) would never fly as a title nowadays in our politically correct society; and 2) he's seven, wears pants that require assistance being put on, and did I mention "Ants In The Pants" is the dumbest name for a game ever? My man Cullen caught me snaggin' his ants, which I'm pretty sure is not something you boast about anywhere ever. And that's not even the most mind-blowing part of my experience. At one point, he wandered off to play Xbox. Cool. In a turkey daze I found myself wondering what he was up to, and caught myself wondering what the point of the game he was playing was. The avatar would run and jump and scale walls and do all sorts of crazy shit, enough to bore me but not enough to completely lose my interest. Meanwhile, Cullen had cuddled up against my leg while I leaned on a shelf...he was comfortable enough with me and his game, so I didn't care. Then the avatar took out a sword and would slice people up randomly. I, of all people, am not one to be shocked by anything, but this was slightly jarring in the fact that a child was basically unsupervised in the presence of a strange adult male while playing a video game that basically requires you to kill other people. I mean, for someone whose only Xbox history is Rockband, even I was slightly uncomfortable watching a little kid do malicious grown-up work the Xbox's apparent opus in its catalog, Assassin's Creed. I've never killed anyone, but I've seen it done in movies before, and that's enough for me. Yet here's a kid doing it with relative ease. And then he asked me if I wanted to play. Not being one who turned down adorable children, I obliged. And I've played plenty of Nintendo games at twice and three times Cullen's age, and probably killed a few people in my time as a quote-unquote-don't-quote-me gamer, but holy shit...Xbox controllers have way too many buttons and allow avatars to do way too many things. It's like having ten wallets with eight different credit cards that are only good at certain store. So when it was my turn to play, well, let's just say I couldn't quite manipulate my guy quite the same way. Every button only made the avatar walk. No jumping or running or killing or looting. Picture those same ten wallets, with the same credit cards, only they're in one of fifty different pockets on your person, you can't get your melted snow-laden gloves off, and it doesn't matter because all of the credit cards are maxed out anyway and you're living in a society that doesn't take credit anyway (or you're 96 years old with no arms trying to write checks and it's still the Prohibition times but you've managed to procure enough booze and you just start wandering around aimlessly like you're about to discover radiation and disco and can't do a thing about the sausage swimming in the drinking water). Yeah, that was me. I managed to bore a small child that can't walk by playing a video game I absolutely suck balls at. I am a bad friend. But hey, he liked me, and didn't want me to leave, and we all need friends (unless you're like me and just lopped off a ton of "friends" from my Facebook list, which is no easy feat either). Happy belated Thanksgiving, people. I'll understand it if I'm eating Hormel's "Compleats: Turkey With Dressing" next year while sticking to simpler games that I'm more familiar with getting destroyed at, like Words With Friends. MUSICAL BREAK!! I did manage add a little bit to my iTunes collection while I was away, so feel free to check this out before the next segment (even if it was only adding a few things I'd already once owned and was enhancing the variety). THE DAILY BOX SCORE:   Well, I (we) did it, and I don't feel as great about it as I should. We irked <I'm not gonna tag him here so as not to drag any further unnecessary attention to an already inconvenient situation>. Our little side-notes and otherwise outward displays of publicly acting out protests general conversation got me a private rebuke an audience with <the same guy I won't name but am greatly indebted to> regarding our request for a hockey emoticon. And it didn't go well. It did, but it didn't. Let's skip the fact that there's a fine line between "suggesting" and "campaigning", and a not-so-fine line between "organizing a full-scale collective operation" and "annoying". I have appeared to perhaps fallen into the second of both categories, but I was willing to meet <said great leader who shall remain unnamed to save from potential further annoyance> 99.8825% of the way on this, but his response was to suggest I raise a lot of GP's for "RAOK Upgrade Brigade Group" , which I was more than happy to do (although- no, never mind...it's best I write this all with my feelings kept out of this). I made a decision, based on the fact that I support RAOK fully because they're the cornerstone of WDC's efforts not only to help newbies, but to those who can't always keep their upgraded memberships, and I've been helped out by them a lot in the past. I agreed with <he who escapes all scorn in what was otherwise a great idea>, and I went ahead and created "Invalid Item" so that people would donate to a great cause and we would stop complaining about how every major sport except hockey is represented by an emoticon. One problem: I've never done any kind of major fundraising on WDC, so I had no clue what I was doing. Open the forum and watch the rink get built, to paraphrase the Kevin Costner movie "Field Of Dreams". The trouble with that is I failed to provide direction, and every donation seemed to go into a different place. I'm immensely thankful for Lyn's a sly fox   , Brother Nature   and MrBugSir 's efforts in supporting the notion that we should have a hockey emoticon, but ultimately it fell on me for the mess it created in accounting for all of the donations. I made quite a headache for the powers that be due to my lack of understanding in the overall accounting process for this, even though I believed we had all of the funds necessary to get to see the goal come to fruition. I knew there was a reason I never really got involved with this kind of stuff, and I feel incredibly horrible about the whole damn thing. It's not like we cheated anyone or were trying to get something over on the site, and in the end all we get is a cute little animation that signifies our love for hockey; whereas a few members of WDC get to enjoy extended upgraded membership privileges for two months. I feel like a huge tool for all of this...what started out as innocent banter a few years back and turned into a really great idea became a huge process involving gift point logs, a steady indulgence in annoyance, and overall just more trouble than it was meant to be in the first place. That was never my intent, and then (because I put my name in front of it) it became something worse. Lesson learned. From now on, the "great ideas" will be better left to the ones who can actually execute them flawlessly and without having to leave others like their cages have been rattled to the point that it becomes a problem. In a perfect world, that's all we ever hope for, and of all people I should know that. Whew. That said, it's still my belief that we did manage to reach a goal (no pun intended) that was laid out for us (under a slightly unsettling feeling that it wasn't attainable, but nobody's reinterpreting/counting words now), and if you're seeing this and you're able, I'm still encouraging you to please consider donating to RAOK in the name of our cause (just don't send me your GP's through the forum...do it through RAOK). This may have damaged my standing with <the unnamed party that does all this cool stuff here at WDC> after 12+ years of membership, but at least we've all been able to learn from this experience...perhaps in the future if the need arises for my thoughts on fundraising, I can offer some advice on what not to do. But rest assured, I won't be saying ludicrous things "campaigning", and you can quote me on that biting off more than I can chew, whether I think I can or cannot. Defriending people on Facebook is a legitimate pain in my ass. I've been slowly trying to weed out the fake accounts. Facebook does not make this easy. More on this at a later date as I become increasingly infuriated with this aspect of unsocial networking. Aww man, it's that time of year again...awards season is slowly going to start happening. WDC's Quill Awards are coming, and I don't have an appropriate thing to wear. Thankfully nobody else will be showing up in a tux made of Reese's peanut butter cup wrappers. But you can at least get all the info you need here: "The Quills" . THIS IS NOT CAMPAIGNING!! (Sorry for the bold caps...I have to cover my ass.)I had more important things to add (how can I not, having spent like two weeks away from not being a completely immersed person who contributed to WDC's bloggatorial landscape as semi-often as I would) but my brain's fried and my anxiety is testing my medications' limits, so I better be moving on with my evening. It's crazy what standardized testing of an adult's aptitude can do to one's brain, let alone a teenager's, especially with the crazy hormone changes and societal pressures. Let's just pretend we've all been here before. Peace, I wish I was, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
| 30DBC PROMPT: "Have you ever risked your life to save the life of someone else? Would you if the situation arose? Who would you risk your life for? (If you would prefer to answer a slightly tamer version of this question, replace the word "life" with reputation.)" What's up y'all! I know what you're thinking..."What's he doing posting blog entries two days in a row??" And that's a very valid question, with a simple answer...there are no Sabres games or football games on for me to be a party to this evening. Notice I didn't say hockey games...I think the NHL is still trying to figure out what sport the Sabres actually play these days before they commit to broadcasting more games in the Buffalo market in accordance with the new deal signed by the league and Rogers Communications (http://www.cbssports.com/nhl/eye-on-hockey/24285119/nhl-announces-12-year-52-bil...). So that's what's bringing me to you tonight. Glad we could bond over our mutual admiration of seeing my words on a computer screen or mobile device. Let's set this thing off then. And as a rule, I'll be avoiding the "slightly tamer version", because to not do so would be no sortsa fun. I personally have never risked my life to save someone else's. But I imagine that would be a pretty cool thing...you'd be that person's hero, as the damsels in black and white movies would say to their saviors after being rescued from moments of distress. And then they'd maybe bake you a cake, or kiss you on the cheek, or paint a face on a potato and carry it in their purse claiming it's you, and how you'll never leave her side ever again. And man, those special effects in movies nowadays are pretty amazing...I hear some theatres are charging $30 a ticket, which includes a gallon of soda, a shopping bag full of popcorn, and a restraining order against the protagonist's love interest and her crazy stalker friends. Now, if I were to find myself in a situation where it becomes a question of risking my life over someone else's...whooooo boy, I don't know. I'd love to say without a doubt that I would, no questions asked, and I'm thinking most of you probably feel the same way, yet I can't help but think that my reflexes would kick in before my generosity did, which would propel me out of a bullet's or speeding vehicle's way...neither of which I'm prepared to defend myself against. In fact, I'm pretty sure I'd be more likely to use another person as a shield under these circumstances rather than simply finding the way to GTFO of...and that's where that joke's gonna end before I get any bit more tasteless with it (and believe me, the thought has crossed my mind). Then there's the question of who I would risk my life for, and the answer should be "If I'm willing to risk it for anyone, I should be willing to risk it for everyone". Cute story bro, but we know that's a lie. You're not <insert deity here>! You don't get to pick and choose who lives or dies! Unless you're hanging around a cliff maybe, watching other people who hang around cliffs, and someone gets a little too close to the edge...and then what? You judge for a split-second, and either save them or let them die? Meanwhile, I'm judging you for hanging around cliffs all the time, ya creeper, 'cuz that's just dumb. Get a job or something. Lifesaving isn't as glorious as it seems, friends. You don't wake up in the morning, look at the calendar on your phone and go, "Dammit, I was supposed to meet my homies on the golf course at 2:45, but it looks like I'll be pushing someone out of the way of a bus careening out of control on the other side of town at the same time! Oh no!" It requires an odd set of circumstances to occur along with a precise amount of snap judgements; otherwise, everyone involved and then some are probably dead. If you act appropriately, only you're dead. I say this now, but watch...everyone else with an entry today on this same prompt is probably a lifeguard or a cop or an EMT who's probably saved dozens of lives, and they're all like, "Snap, I save lives every day like y'all fall out of bed!" Only I haven't fallen out of bed in a long time, crazy do-gooder. So let's sum this portion of today's nonsense up: I've never saved a life, don't count on me to in that situation, and stay in bed. Glad we could work that out. BCF PROMPT: "Apparently, there is a National Day for just about anything. Today, November 26th, is National Cake Day! If you had to represent us in a world bake off, what cake would you bake to best describe us and why? Bet some of you are going to immediately say 'fruitcake'! "No, no I would not say "fruitcake"! I was actually thinking "urinal cake", but that's not very comely either. I've never really fancied myself as a baker; I'm more a cook than anything. I've baked cookies, but I don't believe I've ever baked a cake. I'm guessing some of you may be familiar with this website: http://www.cakewrecks.com/, or the books or Facebook pages of its brethren. Some of you probably even think you're pretty proficient with the baking skills, even. I can tell you with full confidence that I fall somewhere in the middle of the spectrum...I'm not Betty Crocker, but I surely can't be as bad as some of these either: http://www.buzzfeed.com/jessicamisener/24-bakers-who-totally-nailed-it. And don't call me Shirley. Now, before I continue I feel like I must warn you...especially if you're reading me for the first or second time, or you're just getting to know me, or you wanna stalk me and figure this slab of internet wonderment is your gateway drug to better things: no, I will not bake you a cake, no matter how beautiful or creepy you are. I have no desire to do so. Ever. Oh, I'll buy you a cake. I'll buy you cake mix. I'll buy you the stuff you mix with the cake mix. But I will not make you a cake. Under no circumstances. We clear? Good. However, for the sake of having an entry that doesn't end on a crappy note, like the previous paragraph or something else like "Chocolate, 'cuz that's what's in the pantry", let's see what I can come up with. For starters, what nation has a National Cake Day?? Why, United States, why?? Ok. Enough whining. I once knew people who used to make these cakes...I think they were called Slush Cakes, actually. It wasn't really a cake, but it was crazy tasty and I swear I could've eaten pans of it. It was a pastry crust, some kind of custard or vanilla pudding, some chocolate pudding, and whipped cream, and then it was topped with crushed walnuts and cherries. I don't know where the name comes from, and I don't have an exact recipe, which makes all the more sense when you consider I said a few sentences back that it really wasn't a cake. I swear it's a real thing. I just don't feel like looking it up right now to back up what I said. But it seems easy enough to make, and the ingredients have all the major food groups: crust, chocolate, dairy, and fun. So it's healthy too. See, even when you're not trying to learn something when you decide you're gonna waste precious time you could be spending with your loved ones and instead clicking on my links, you wind up learning something anyway. I'm like nutrition for your head like that! MUSICAL BREAK!!  Remember yesterday, when I was ticking off karaoke songs like it was some sort of sick hobby? Definitely add this song to that list.THE DAILY BOX SCORE: Just checking...nope. Still no hockey emoticon. Don't make me go on some kind of random "making sense" spree until I get my way with this, ya hear? Stupid northeast and its stupid weather. Not very elegant or writer-ly of me, I know, but the slim chance I had for having real turkey on Thanksgiving rides in opposite proportion to the likelihood of precipitation tomorrow, which is high for the WNY area. It's pretty reasonable to assume I won't be heading west and seeing family, which is unfortunate. Remember the tasteless joke I didn't make in the first segment of this entry? All I have to say is that I read an article about old Nintendo games from the '90's that were based on literature, and it included this sentence: "That’s right, you throw a baby." Yes, when others say things like that it kinda makes my day sometimes. http://mentalfloss.com/article/53130/11-nintendo-games-based-classic-works-liter...I think that's an appropriate place to call it a day...I've got some Editor's Picks from the "Invalid Item" that I haven't had a chance to check out yet, as well as "Invalid Item" that I still need to finish reading (and it's only right that I mention Elle - on hiatus  's newsletter during an entry with a prompt that centers around cooking...but really it's always a fantastic read and if you're still reading this then you should definitely be subscribed to both the Bliss and Elle's Kitchen). So yeah...uhh, thanks, peace, get cake, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
| 30DBC PROMPT: 'What is your first reaction when you forget something? Take us through your initial terror and following thoughts. Anecdotes are helpful!" Welcome back folks. Glad you could be here to join me in what is sure to be another memorably forgetful entry. That's what I love the most about writing...you read it, laugh, and it's over with, and tomorrow you're like, "Did I just read something the other day? I coulda sworn I did..." and it feels like indigestion or gas, but you blame it on the dog and we're cool. I, like most of you, prefer not to forget things. And I'm sure this is the case as well: you remember when you forget something roughly .0000012 seconds after it becomes too late to do anything about it. Lock your keys in your car or apartment? The milli-vanillisecond that door shuts you're trying to stuff your entire hand in the keyhole trying to unlock the door. Addressed and sealed that credit card payment and dropped it in your good ol' U.S. of A. postal box while the check is sitting on your dining room table? That's one Forever stamp that you're never gonna see again. Parted ways with your dinner guests at the fancy restaurant, paid the tab, came home, watched some Fresh Prince Of Bel Air, fed the fish, and thought you'd treat yourself to some late-night leftovers? Too bad fool; you left your styrofoam container of half-eaten pasta in the back of a New York City cab. Let's be honest with each other. We all know what the first reaction is when this occurs. Even you proud teetotalers who claim to never have uttered a foul epitaph in your very pristine lives have, in some variation, allowed yourselves to slip a notch. We curse. We damn that moment with a single word, which usually comes after "Oh" and is typically ended with an exclamation point. Because we're all different versions of the same species, that singular word may differ, but it's the universal way of acknowledging your deficiencies as a person without actually taking the blame. It's a pretty genius concept, I know...that and our opposable thumbs make us dominant over like 65% of the animal kingdom, and that equals majority rule, and suddenly we're dealing with equations again, which I thought I said last time I promised never to get into when writing. So we'll save that for never later. You can't deny it; it's human nature to not blame ourselves for our mistakes, and if we're not blaming others, we're rationalizing it away in some other twisted fashion so others feel sorry for what is otherwise our own stupidity. I'm not going to give examples...let's just say I tried to, and typed it out, but it played off like a terrible stereotype, so I deleted it. See? That last sentence right there was an example of how we make excuses!! I'm human, just like you! Just...like...you. And after that sheer moment of absolute dread that something's been forgotten, that's when we find out just how low-down rotten and evil we are. We're plotting and scheming and trying to figure out ways of reclaiming whatever it is we've left behind, whether it be through standard measures or ill-conceived notions. Within five minutes we've mapped out an entire floor plan of the house and how we're going to crawl through vents and air ducts like fucking Batman in order to get back inside, and we'll dangle sticks bound together with leaves and grass to loop through a key ring, and we'll be all stealth about it so as not to wake the baby we don't have. Meanwhile, you've been pacing up and down your driveway, passing an open window you can just crawl through any time you're ready to give up on your superhero dreams and get on with your life revolving around keys. And why do we do this? Because when we start to panic, we don't think. Immediately, our minds go from being one taut rope to a million shredded strands of fibers shooting in every incalculable direction. Every scenario makes sense, except the one that actually makes the most sense. And like Yoda said, "There is no try", so we just do. And that's how people become YouTube famous. BCF PROMPT: "Name three songs you could be convinced to sing at karaoke." Three? Just three? I'm gonna have a hard time narrowing it down to three. If there's one thing you must know about me, it's that I have no qualms about singing karaoke. Disclaimer: That does not mean I can sing. It just means I have no shame. You're looking at someone who used to frequent a local bar as part of a larger group of individuals, and this bar featured karaoke seven nights a week. Seven. Last I checked, that was damn near every night. I could walk in, nod to the DJ, have a few drinks, slip a $20 in his tip jar, give him a list of five songs, kick a hole in the speaker, pull the plug and then jet. Blogging and karaoke are pretty similar, if you think about it. For the most part, the audience is full of people you don't know. You're performing for likely less than a quarter of the amount of people you think are paying attention. And what sounds great in the moment is almost always a bad idea when you go over it the next day. In keeping with the tagline of every WDC-sponsored "mission" that comes across my newsfeed every so often (We love overachievers!), I will present to you...this one-time, special event. A complete list of ten songs I would sing for a packed house at karaoke, were I to perform a concert at a local bar near you. Don't forget to tip your waitresses. 1) "You've Got To Hide Your Love Away" - Eddie Vedder http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Ix-cJZv5vc 2) "Come Together" - The Beatles http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=axb2sHpGwHQ 3) "Float On" - Modest Mouse http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CTAud5O7Qqk 4) "Courage" - The Tragically Hip http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FhpezwGtDEg 5) "Clint Eastwood" - Gorillaz http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LoQYw49saqc 6) "Pour Some Sugar On Me" - Def Leppard http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0UIB9Y4OFPs 7) "Sweet Caroline" - Neil Diamond http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1vhFnTjia_I 8) "Clumsy" - Our Lady Peace http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wnYyyFe1saA 9) "Faith" - Limp Bizkit http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l-EdCNjumvI 10) "What I Got" - Sublime http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Uc3ZrmhDN4 And if you're a really good audience, you'll hear as an encore: 11) "Warm Machine" - Bush http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GfZaeE_IxIQ 12) "Nothing As It Seems" - Pearl Jam http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nSSr5H7h5CA 13) "Don't Look Back In Anger" - Oasis http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r8OipmKFDeM Of course, no one's asking me to sing at their wedding anytime soon, so I'm available for almost any occasion: birthdays, bah mitzvahs, funerals, threesomes, lunar eclipses...cash only, please. Earplugs and costume changes aren't included. MUSICAL BREAK!!  Not only does my resume feature some insane karaoke abilities, but I'm also fairly proficient at Rockband for xBox, including scoring 100% every single time I handle the vocals to all three parts of this sing. The tv even says "Awesome!" afterwards. Seriously, how come I don't have a job that takes advantage of the stuff I'm actually good at?THE DAILY BOX SCORE:  I think I've written two blog entries in the last week, and somehow I managed to win "Blogger Of The Week" in the "Blogging Circle of Friends " . At this rate I may have to create a second WDC account to keep all of my virtual trophies in. I have to say great job to Emily  , Brother Nature , and especially Wordsmitty ✍️  for another great issue of Blogging Bliss, which should've hit your inboxes first thing on the bright this morning. You can catch some back issues here: "Blogging Bliss Newsletter Archives" , and as always, if you have a question or comment for any of the editors (or anyone in our humble little community as well), feel free to drop it off over here: "Blogging Bliss Newsletter Forum" . I know what you didn't do today, seein' as how you were all busy with your face in the "Invalid Item" and checkin' out the Editor's Picks for November. You didn't beg and plead go to WDC's Suggestion Box and casually mention how a few of us around here would like a hockey emoticon. You know how I know? 'Cuz we still ain't got one. So you should go do that, like, after you're done reading this entry. Because the way I hear things, a certain deity makes Don Cherry wear an uglier suit for every day that passes without a hockey emoticon. And there can't be that many horrible-looking suits left in the world, so get on that already, would ya? Oh, and please?Ok, well, I think I've covered all of my contractually-obligated and otherwise unnecessary meanderings for another day or so. If there are no more questions for me, then I think we're done here. Peace, you can't front on that, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
30DBC PROMPT: "Today's prompt will be a challenge for many of you. Today, you are NOT ALLOWED to grammatically edit your entry! The judges will disregard any spelling and grammar mistakes, so feel free to let it all out. This is a free writing exercise. Think about the fruit of your choice and then write anything that comes to your mind. If you start talking about something else, go with it! See where it takes you! Write like this for 10 minutes at least and see where you end up  . Have fun!  "What is up? It's been a week of not much going on, and today's "Funny Friday" prompt, in all honesty, really isn't all that funny...or at least I don't see the humor in it. But I will agree that it's challenging, and here's why: because I type and look at the screen at the same time, fingers have already tapped the backspace key before I've even realized it. Case in point: I've already done it five times in the last two sentences, and you haven't even noticed it. But I'll be a good sport and try to play along as best I can. And yes, I'll be sticking strictly (dammit, I did it again) to the ten-minute time limit. I actually tried doing this exercise earlier this afternoon, and kept catching myself screwing it up by constantly correcting myself. Then I made the mistake of leaving this page, not saving my entry, and coming back to it approximately five minutes later...which means Windows 8.1 refreshes this particular tab. It only hasppens to WDC, and only when I'm writing. And it happens too. I can't even get mad about it anymore, because it's my own stupid fault for not left-clickingmy pal, and my pal, the "Save and Edit" button, or using a third-party situation like WordPad to write an entry before copy/pasting it over in full...but to me that's more of apain in the ass, as well as a pain in the ass also, because you've got to edit spacing and other things and I don't really care not want to be bothered, nor do I care, and nor do I wanr to be bothered. I mean "want". Or don't want. Nor do I want. I want want, not wanr. Wanr isn't a word. And I want nor, not not. Nor do I not want wanr. I think. Well, I'm seven minutes into this, and I haven't had to talk about fruit yet, which is mentioned in the prompt and I'm really not good at talking about fruit, besides the fruit of my labor, which asI mentioned in the above paragraph, I mentioned I tried to do this earlier but was disappointed. Not fruit-smashingly upset, and that's time outta my life I will never see again, btu is a way of measuring the output of an air conditioner I believe, but not as angry as I've gotten in the past over lost entries. Another fun reason why I don't think this prompt will work? The built-in spell-check functions between Windows 8.1 and WDC will auto-correct certain words so that I don't have to. It's already fixed a few for me so far, an yet it's not smart enough to know the difference between "an" and "and". I did read somewhewe that somewhere there's a way to teach your auto-correct to not redline words you know are words but your spell-check doesn't, like your name for example. Most names come up as being misspelled if you run a spell-check; mine certainly does, which can be embarrassing if you're one of those people who hates being told you're wrong even when you know you're right. There are probably some eery, very insecure, indecisive and insecure individualos (that's Spanish for "individuals", I think) who are likely having arguments on the regular with their computers always questioning them as to the proper spelling of their name. Ok, well, time check: yes! I've managed to rampble on, whilst rambling on through the minimalamount (that's "minimal amount", for you intellectual completists out there) of correcting and editing. It's hard ya know, 'cuz you can't just tape down the damn backspace key and pretend it's not there. I'm not the perfect typer, but I'm not a "hunter and pecker" (*snicker snicker* I said "hunter") either. Usually when I see I've effed up a line pretty good my pinky's rubbin' up on the backspace/deletes before I've even fully comprehended that maybe I've done something on the keyboard I shouldn't have. Too bad there's oh, say, not a way to disable certain keys entirely, just for the sake of this entry or others like it. But then you wouldn't be able to type at all, which is kinda senseless. Like if I he;d and held down the "g" button for ten minutes (or more), you's see you'd see multiple versions of lines that look like this: hhhhhhhhh hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Only it'd be a backspace repeated, which I think I've just stretched this entry into the possibility of negative characters, and I swore to myself once I decided I'd like to write occasionally as a hobby of sorts I'd never (or, at least, as little as possible) try to introduce math into grammar. But I can tell you're thinking..."Man, if I wrote a chapter full of backspaces, that would really hurt my NaNoWriMo counts...looks like I better start using more adjectives to counterbalance that!" Or maybe it hasn't crossed your mind. All I know is that I'm done talking about this, becauase spelling things wrong and not changing them while I'm being a typist is thoroughly annoying the stuff I don't want to leave me outta me. BCF PROMPT: "How did you come up with the title for your blog?" Whew...I have to admit that it feels a lot better being able to backspace on my own terms and conditions. And it's kinda funny that just a few days ago I was actually very thankful for that. No joke.  I missed a few good prompts this week, mainly because I wasn't up to participating. Being tired a lot will do that to you. But I didn't feel quite as bad missing the "Blogging Circle of Friends " 's one year anniversary, because pretty much everyone else in the group missed it too. It wasn't until CJ Reddick brought it up a couple days later that it was acknowledged. But anyway, let's talk about this simple, bang-out and be gone one-liner. As you're pretty well aware, the title of this blog is "Who do I still think I am??" , because it's a continuation of "Who Do I Think I Am??" . That was necessitated because I ran out of internet to play with last time. Or, if you listen to what The StoryMaster  says, in his own words (or something close to them), "book items" (which is what WDC considers blogs) have limits, and I "exceeded them" in terms of kilobytes or megagrams or whatever the kids call that sorta thing these days. But I like my explanation better.Well, that, and after around 380 or so entries, you, me, and the things that define and divide both of us still haven't come to a consensus on just who the hell I think I am, anyway?! As it turns out, I seem to have a different answer every frickin' time I have a new entry. I don't know if that's a good or a bad thing. I guess it makes for decent entertainment...we laugh together, we get sad together, we dream together, and sometimes we just go on a random left-turn rant about how the last time I tried to buy underwear at Wal-Mart, a mens' medium was way too large, and the manufacturer doesn't make mens' smalls, but the youth XL's fit almost perfectly, although a year of not moving as nicely as I used to almost makes me kinda wish I'd gone with the mediums instead, but who can predict the future while standing in the underwear section of Wal-Mart? See? You've just answered your own question of "Why do I always click on this??" And if you don't like the answer, always remember this one thing: I'm about 450-some entries into trying to figure me out, and I still don't know who the hell I think I am.  MUSICAL BREAK!! I was really at loss when it came to this point, because there aren't many songs that touch on bad grammar and poor editing (or lack of editing), and if there are I would hope one of you fills me in. I almost went with "Ten Minutes" by The Get Up Kids because the initial prompt was "Write about some something or other for ten minutes" but then I failed that by taking up about twenty minutes. And at the end of this entry, I actually went ahead and submitted my final, now-public view with Moby's version of Schoolhouse Rock's "Verbs: That's What's Happening" but later changed my mind (which I'm known to do). So I'm gonna go with this instead, because, well, words. And stuff. THE DAILY BOX SCORE: If you're reading this and you or someone you love enjoys the game of hockey, I'm asking you here on WDC to please do us all one simple favor. It's not often that I ask of anything of you kind people here, but please, on the upper left portion of this screen, where it says "Writing.Com Tools", please click on that and scroll to the very bottom of that menu until you reach "Suggestion Box". From there you can, in the privacy of your home or in the ether of your mobile device's interwebs, concoct an impassioned plea for help in getting hockey fans on WDC around the world what they really deserve and desire more than anything...a true, real hockey emoticon (because almost anything is better than the busted-ass combo of emoticons a few of us have been using the last few years). It'll only take a few moments of your time, but you'll be making a difference in our community, which is around the world. And even if you don't want to write your own message of support to the cause, which is gaining steam around the world, you can still click the "Like" lettering under Lyn's a sly fox 's and/or my own personal testimonies regarding the creation of this wonderful hockey emoticon. It doesn't cost you a thing around the world and you'll never have to read another overembellished instance of anyone ever italicizing around the world again. I promise. Act now!! *Restrictions may apply. This offer is valid in but not limited to places around the world. Earlier this week I posted what is perhaps the greatest E-card in the brief but wondrous history of E-cards known to man on Facebook. I won't repost it here for the sake of rating, but it involves use of the eff-word in place of a comma, which I found to be insanely humorous. That, my friends, sums up my week (and that's "week" as in "my last seven days previous", not, "since Sunday" or "since Monday" or "Whenever you goddamn feel like it"). Saw my therapist last week, which I really didn't mind since it would be close to the time I needed some refills on prescriptions anyway, and a couple needed to be reauthorized by my doctor, who I wouldn't be seeing until next week, but since I was gonna be there, I could just leave a message in person and in the next day or two pick them up at my local drug store and life would go on. Got that so far?And it did, only unmedicated. The nurse practitioner was in the damn receptionist's room when I came back to make my next appointment. So she knew I was there, and I knew she knew I was there. Eye contact, y'all. So Friday (the next day) I called in the scripts I thought I still had available refills on, and Saturday I went to pick them up. Out of four, I got one. It was the one I least needed. Go figure. The pharmacy said I was out of refills on one, and had no refills on the other, and left a message for the doctor. No kidding...so did I. Monday rolls around, I was able to get another one of my meds, and I called the doc's office to see what's up on the other two (which are for moods, seizures and sleep). I had to leave another voice mail explaining the situation. The nurse called me back and said one script was called in last week, and the one I really needed "would be ready to be picked up tomorrow afternoon". So after barely sleeping at all Monday night, but lying in bed unable to move because you're a combination of too tired and too afraid that if you do move you won't sleep, I waited around Tuesday until I got the automated call from Kinney saying I had scripts to pick up. Cool. Got down there, signed for it, and...there was only one in the bag. And it wasn't Ambien. I was displeased, but Kinney had no record of me needing it. Mind you, all this walking is killing me. The doctor's office is sorta between where I live and the pharmacy, but I would take a different, slightly shorter route if I were just going to the store. So the doctor's office is now out of my way, but that's where I went. And sure enough, my paper prescription was there, waiting for me to be picked up. In person. Every other time, they've called on my behalf to the store so that I wouldn't have to pick up a slip, go to the pharmacy, and wait or come back. And on this occasion, all of my other meds were called in, but not this one. But off I went, back again to Kinney, somewhat relieved that at least I'd actually get some sleep that night. I went to the drop-off line, handed my script to the guy at the counter, and told him I'd wait for it. He kinda laughed and said he didn't know how long it'd be, because their computers just went down. I think at that point my mind had had enough with the brain cells I'd already smashed throughout the years, and just started going apeshit on what was left, because I turned into the whiniest, blubbering mess I'd ever been since the time I was 13 and got dumped bad by a girl I really really liked. "Ya know, I wouldn't even be here today if the doctor had just called this in like I asked on Thursday, and I've been back and forth here all weekend, and..." I don't even know what else came out of my mouth. I might've recited chemical compounds off the top of my head for all I know. I know the pill-count-verifying lady behind the counter's eye's glossed over a little during my rant, which then triggered her to say something like "We'll be more than happy to fill it for you, as soon as the computers come back up." Meanwhile, the guy I originally spoke with at the counter had moved away from me and was now joking about his lunch plans, which coincided opportunistically with the technological meltdown occurring in the pharmacy. I really wanted to just curl up in the waiting area and take a nap while they sorted out their problems. After all, the least they could've done was offer me a pillow, no? But instead I just decided to shop around. I didn't need anything, but at the risk of otherwise feeling like a shoplifter I grabbed a basket, with Orwell's 1984 happening in the fancy part of the store as my alibi for limping around the aisles with just an ad and a jar of hummus (because I can always use hummus...who can't? You're wrong if you say you can't.). Somehow I made it with minimal cursing (which is something I will admit to the exact opposite of earlier in the week) for about an hour and with no screwfaced looks from Kinney employees wondering why I'm pretty much loitering as I've taken at least three laps around the interior premises. Finally, I was able to go home and eventually sleep the whole night through with the proper controlled substances.  A few weeks ago I went through a phase where I began signing up for free trials of products on the internet. Mostly just from companies who want your email address and don't want to go through the trouble of getting it shadily from third-party sources because, basically, you're stupid enough to give it to them. Thankfully, my junk mail catcher on the email machine is weeding out most of the crap, but when did I sign up to receive a free trial of Astroglide lube? At least I might page through an issue of Smithsonian magazine, but waterproof lubricant? This taking of medications before going to bed and then using the computer for awhile before actually doing the sleep thing needs to stop happening, because I keep waking up the next day with little to no knowledge of my last half-hour or so of consciousness from the previous night. And with that, I'll say thanks for making it this far into today's entry (even though I basically went over some recurring themes), enjoy your weekend, and we'll catch up soon. Peace, it's been a pleasure backspacing with you all, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
| 30DBC PROMPT: "Make up your own stories for the origin of common expressions like "keep your fingers crossed," "shooting fish in a barrel," etc." What's up, and happy weekend, folks. Well played, Windows 8.1 for refreshing this box on me again when I had 7/8ths of an entry all typed up. Recreating that is a feat that never happens. I wasn't excited about today's "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" and "Blogging Circle of Friends Prompt Forum" prompts to begin with, but here goes.Long before man needed big buildings to shop in, and then abandon in search of bigger ones on damn near every corner, there was a place called "nature". This friends, is the history of "Go take a hike." Nature was a great place, full of trees and birds and animals native to specific regions. Man would sometimes visit, and occasionally inhabit there. A few of these men, handy with the saw and a pocketful of nails, would make some pockets of "nature" easier to get to by laying down consecutive planks of 2x4's to construct a path on which one could walk freely through without the elements damaging his footwear. Paths and trails could easily lend themselves to enjoying this "nature". One day, a classic commoner named Jonah Hikke got into an argument with his wife. She was mocking him for his forays into the wilderness, saying, "I'm gonna go for a walk too...from the living room of this log cabin, well, to the other side of this log cabin!" Jonah was certainly non-plussed, and in his drunken stupor walked out and screamed, "HIKKE!!", loud enough that the rest of his buddies could hear him. And off he went, seeking to avoid his life for a little while so he could become one with "nature". At the local fire of communal bons later that evening (known to most as a "bonfire"), many noted Jonah's absence. Mrs. Hikke was quiet. The men set out on what would later be called a "search party" for their friend. Armed with small torches and large, thin sticks to help them through the rugged terrain, they set out into the darkness to find their man. Knowing he didn't always stick to the beaten or built paths, they were prepared to go deep into the heavy forest. As they came to the ravine, known in daylight as the border of their fair colony, they heard a faint cry in the distance. "Hikke! Hikke!" Their main man was stuck deep below the muddy hillside, screaming all he knew...his name. One by one, the group safely lowered themselves into the sketchy area. Jonah, knowing "nature" the way he did, was able to discern the crowd from the flesh-eating insects that were stealthily feasting upon him, but all he could do was mutter, "Hikke! Hikke!". Shortly after they reached Jonah, they were devoured by a family of hungry bears. The wives were sitting around the fire, making idle chatter, when someone had noticed the men were out later than they said they'd be. One thing led to another, and Jonah's wife had made mention of the argument they had that led him to walk away from the situation. And as these stories go, someone tells another something, and that person tells three other people their version, and suddenly it's an epidemic. As a man screams his name, a woman says, "Take a walk and cool down", and he's never heard from again. As generations in log cabins passed and language would evolve faster than anything else, when discussions between lovers escalated, one would tell the other to "take a Hikke", meaning that "you should leave and I don't want to see you again, because you should be eaten by bears...that's how wrong you are". This is why I don't make stuff up. BCF PROMPT: "You have been appointed recreation director for BCOF, we have chosen to go hiking. Where are you taking us? What sights will we see? Have you been there before? Will we need any special gear?" It should be noted first that I would turn down such a position. Mainly because I don't wanna hear any bitchin' about the activity. And furthermore, it's hard enough to get this big a group to participate in virtual activities, let alone gathering up all these souls into one environment toward a collective something-or-other. But let's hike! Sure. Y'all meet me in the parking lot of my "downtown" Cortland building (I don't own the building, I just live there and it has a parking lot attached to it). I'll need some volunteers. Two for the cooler with the hot dogs, condiments and liquid refreshments, and another for the chips, paper products, and cooking necessities. It's an urban hike toward one of the two parks I've been to (not including the "memorial" one) all of once each. I went to one to read a book, and the other to eat Taco Bell. One has a beach (ok, a glorified pond with a dock) and the other has a public swimming pool. Both have grass, some nature, and those cemented-in barbecue posts. Maybe they're the place to be in the summer, but it's November. We're not going there to celebrate Thanksgiving. I'm really bad at this "hiking" thing. Last time I did it I was in Boy Scouts, and it was a trip through a neighborhood rather than a park. I think the parents got more out of it by telling us to watch out for cars and gossiping than us kids did. But for the sake of sake-ing, it's a foot-taken path to a fun time, where it's a cookout and tomorrow be damned. Rules can go out the window of places where there aren't windows anyway either. Tent city! Let's camp out! You wanna hike? We're gonna hike the frig outta this and make it last like a memory or somethin'. "Remember that time we took a hike and it turned into a goddamned party for three days straight?" Yeah, that's what. Something like that. And I'm sure shit like that exists, and I'm living on some kind of plane that doesn't intersect with that. I'm ok with that, because the comedown is probably worse than boring, day-to-day stuffs people deal with. "Dude, I camped and hiked for three days!" "That's cool, cuz your rent's due." "Hiked" sounds like a word that our fourth grade English language teachers would've frowned upon us using back in the day. Like, "No, the past participle becomes 'hoked' or 'hikened'" or some other arcane form of mechanical English I was bludgeoned with required to remember in the early eighties. How quickly we forget, yet are somehow destined to remember. Take a hike on that. MUSICAL BREAK!! Mechanical sidewalks and technology...hiking anywhere is a pastime reserved to the well-equipped and not for those who care to be tethered to the world by chairs, cords, pretenses or boundaries. Me? Well, if you're offering, I'm along. THE DAILY BOX SCORE: Still no hockey emoticon. But the Sabres made a huge move this week by firing long-time GM Darcy Regier and replacing their head coach. I was all for waiting the season out with this, but there are reasons why I'm not in higher places, and better reasons why this was a good idea in bringing back Ted Nolan and Pat Lafontaine. Nolan is a great coach and motivator. He'll get the best out of the talent he has, and he's been given a raw deal by the NHL before. Patty brings credibility back to the franchise, but I hope he can bring in someone with the smarts to not only navigate the NHL's salary cap, but also encourage our young players in a changing of the culture around the entire franchise.  Arrested Development made an entire series of running jokes around clichés and inappropriate happenings. If you don't like that show, I don't like you. Good to know we're clear on that. Windows 8.1, thank you for the two hours you kept me away from a computer so I could catch up on Rolling Stone magazines from the summer. Now stop being a douche and let me watch embedded videos on https://www.grandland.com. Worst reasons to live in Cortland #3127: This weekend. It's "Cortaca". Cortland College plays Ithaca in football for the "Cortaca Jug" http://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&frm=1&source=web&cd=1&cad=rja&ved.... Meaning there's a shit-ton of useless college kids wandering around here waiting for something to happen. There is nothing "happening" here. Please, take a hike. Yes, I'm that irritated by them. And no, it's not jealousy...I just don't want to be bothered.I think I had more to add, but I'm done with this for another day. Might be naptime, or maybe just snack time, but I'm out of Cheetos and I'm not going anywhere (even across the street) in this mess of "college kids gone wrong" today. Peace, go take a hike, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! This is why you always leave a note. |
| 30DBC PROMPT: "What kind of role or impact has blogging had on you, or what differences in your day-to-day activities have you noticed since you started blogging (compared to before you began blogging)?" What's up folks? Action-packed prompts today, so I'm pretty excited. Let's go right ahead and do this. Blogging has been a significant impact on my life, almost since the day I first started writing one and reading several others. I think what happened was I got really lucky first, and then hit on something later. Take a seat and allow me to explain. I'd been a WDC member for quite a long time, and poetry wasn't working out for me anymore. I was bored with it. But I kept noticing my surroundings...a lot. Maybe too much. I felt all this energy and I needed to release it somehow. I ended up starting "I'm Studying You" more or less to vent. At the same time I started reading maybe seven or eight other blogs (most of which were written by great people who've moved on from WDC), and we were almost like this collective of sorts (mostly) from around the nation. We laughed together, got sad together, and enjoyed bantering.Now, I say I got lucky before anything else because that blog eventually turned into a soap opera of sorts when I began detailing my exploits concerning a romantic interest I had involving a girl who worked at a drug store in my neighborhood. I swear, people only read me some days just to catch up on my interactions with this girl, and if I posted something that wasn't related to her, they'd ask me about her anyway. And the more I saw this girl, the more I had to say...and I'm not tryin' to be cocky about it, but the more I had to say, the more people put their eyeballs to it. I never really understood why back then, much like I don't understand why now...the hardest part of writing used to be figuring out what I would blog about once we were "happily ever after", and now that the relationship's been over for more than a year, I'm kind of back in that same spot. The only difference now is that I take part sporadically in the "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" and the "Blogging Circle of Friends " . I don't really think that there's been a tremendous difference in my day-to-day activities in most respects since the first time I decided to write under the auspices of unsupervised internetical journaling, but I will say that I tend to pay a little more attention at times so I can better mine the details of my otherwise mundane life on the days I decide to type as many words as I can into a 8"x4" text entry box [Side note: Can anyone tell me why, when creating a new entry, the spot to type the title is underneath the actual entry we're typing? Makes no kinda sense at all.]. I can tell you I've come across some incredibly talented people along the way. It's been a rewarding endeavor, both being able to write and reading what others have shared. The interacting with people I may never otherwise have had the chance to has been one of the most ultimate learning experiences. And if I didn't like you, or doing what I do, I wouldn't be doing it at all...and you'd be doing something a lot more constructive with your time. INTERACTIVE FUN DIVERSION!! Did I just mention doing something more constructive with your time? Well, normally I don't care for diverting attention away from this page until you're fully and completely done devouring anything that passes for information I have to offer, but today I'm making an exception. Why? Simple and self-serving (to me, of course), really. I'm taking a poll on blogging and writing prompts in advance of me writing an Editor's Note for the next Blogging Bliss newsletter coming out at the end of this month. It's one question. You've got time for one question. I'll allow it.
And if you'd like to make a poll-related comment or share a concern, please do so at the "Blogging Bliss Newsletter Forum" . It's open 24/7/365 for all of your forum needs.BCF PROMPT: "November 12th, 1815: Elizabeth Cady Stanton was born. She was a noted women's rights activist. Why do you think women were not allowed to vote for such a long time?" I've been waiting to haul off on this prompt since I saw it in my inbox last evening. Why weren't women allowed to do much of anything for so long? I'll tell you why. Because for the longest time, the views expressed and believed in by the American males of society mirrored the feelings expressed by this ass-hat last week: http://deadspin.com/sports-radio-host-goes-on-moronic-misogynistic-rant-14608078.... When a website like Deadspin gives up on transcribing a ridiculous monologue-turned-rant...when they can't even stomach the absolute garbage being spewed...when the places you can turn to for news and information the major outlets sweep under the rug throw their collective hands up in the air and say "I can't do this anymore"...you know shit just got real. If I'm a gambling man (which, thankfully I'm not), my money's on three things: 1) Damon Bruce has never heard of Title IX athletics (http://www.titleix.info/); 2) Damon Bruce lives on a much different planet than you, I or most of us live on; and 3) by all accounts, Damon Bruce should be looking for a job that he no longer deserves due to his shortsighted worldview. At least that's how I see it. This man has set the "women in sports" debate back thirty years in just eight-and-a-half minutes. Unreal. Now, here's the sad reality: inequality still exists between women and men, and not just in professional and amateur athletics. I haven't read any other entries on this topic yet, but I can already tell you what someone like ANN Counselor, Lesbian & Happy , a person I respect an awful lot here on WDC, will say about this prompt, and I agree with her. It's a known fact that women make significantly less than men when doing the exact same jobs. Put everything on a level surface: education, experience, and expectations...and males are compensated at a much higher rate, while also likely enduring less pressure, discrimination, and other drama than women do just to get to that point. And why is that?Power. The perception and deception of power. Men think they need it to be successful, and have been accustomed for years to it being almost a birthright. Part of power is limiting what your opposition has access to...you wouldn't hand over control of something if you didn't have to, would you? Especially if you knew ceding some knowledge could and would be turned against you and rightfully so by a class of people you deemed "inferior"? That's it right there in a nutshell. Men have always been for the most part portrayed as strong and stubborn, rockin' the upper hand. I don't have to get into statistics or biblical theories or anything like that. You don't need me giving you a lesson on the women's lib movement. The easy answer is that men are jerks...but you know how when you're a kid and you're learning long division and your teacher quizzes you and you're supposed to "show your work", to determine how you came to your solution? History is the proof. Hopefully there's only one Damon Bruce out there, but even one is too many. And I know I went way off-topic with this prompt, but you'll have that. I'm not trying to start any gender wars or cave in to the "wussification of America" or anything like that. I'm proud of the fact that as a society so many long strides in understanding have been made that we're at the point now where we can look past gender when it comes to decision-making. We don't care if it's slacks, a pantsuit or a dress you're wearing. For the most part, the wisecracks and innuendos have turned into genuine expressions of encouragement and healthy debate. Now, let's start compensating everyone on a consistent basis. Sorry to get so serious for a few moments. I'll try not to let that happen again.MUSICAL BREAK!!  Did I say fully? And completely? I don't even care if this is like the 12th time I've posted this song before. Either it'll move me...or it'll move right through me. THE DAILY BOX SCORE:  Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later. I woke up this morning, peeked through the blinds and saw that there was accumulated snowfall. And if you've been following me for any extended period of time you know that as much as I don't like precipitation, I hate talking about it even more. It's weather. It happens. You can't stop it. You can't vote it out of office or switch tables when the smelly kid that it is sets its lunch tray down...because in this case, no matter where you go on the cafeteria of planet Earth, there's always gonna be that kid. But today, I'm gonna mention that naughty four-letter word beginning with "s" (that other one...not the one that rhymes with "hit") only because of a column I was fortunate enough to come across this afternoon on Trending Buffalo: http://www.trendingbuffalo.com/life/five-things-winter/. I like winter too, but not as much as Greg Bauch...it's my fourth-favorite season. Here's your daily (ok, tri-weekly at best) evaluation of the random emoticon system of WDC. This is only a test. There's still no hockey emoticon. I'm assuming that's why I haven't read a post from Brother Nature in awhile. I could be factually incorrect though. No wait, I'm right...I haven't read anything Joel's posted lately, but then again I haven't read much of anything lately. The test is now complete. If this were an emergency, I would've cut this entry short at puck drop five minutes ago to listen to the Sabres game. However, the Sabres are awful this year, so there's not much of a priority there. If I'm lucky, I'll fall asleep during the third period of another blowout loss. And if the Sabres ever become Stanley Cup contenders again, you can be sure I'll be emailing The StoryMaster and The StoryMistress  a minimum of once a day until we the people have a hockey emoticon we can all be proud of and share with the world. Ok, well, now that I've taken up enough of your time, I'm gonna step back and see what everyone else has to say about today's prompts. Peace, be nice to one another, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
| 30DBC PROMPT: "Create a ridiculous holiday to celebrate. You can use your holiday to rant about holidays in general, or go the opposite direction and create a silly holiday for something that you can't live without." Happy weekend y'all! I wasn't even gonna write today...for many reasons. For starters, I totally had intentions of creating a new entry last night...but I didn't. That's generally how things tend to not end up working around here. The real story is that I allowed myself to get sucked into reading/reviewing some of the newbies on WDC, and came across a few items I really enjoyed. And today...today was a complete waste of time. I was fine when I woke up, and then I got these weird pains in my back, which made doing anything (go ahead...let your imaginations loose on that visual) damn near impossible. Couldn't walk, couldn't lay down, and couldn't do all of the things people do that fall under the category of "in-between". And I know what's gonna happen...my mom and some of my close friends will probably read this and message me about whether or not I've made that doctor's appointment I've been putting off for so long, which sounded like a really smart idea while I was wondering if I should go to the emergency room and how long I'd be in the hospital for if they told me I was leaving minus a kidney. And ya know what else is gonna happen? Come Monday when the doctor's office opens, I'll be feeling fine and will have completely forgotten that I spent most of this afternoon writhing and pacing in pain. That's life. But enough about me...let's talk more about me, shall we? In the "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" , the challengers have been tasked with, well, y'all can read the prompt up there. I italicized it and everything. And when I see prompts that include the words "ridiculous" and "rant", I get a little excited. It's like the prompt War Chest has my name engraved on it or something. Now, where do I begin? Well, I thought about reacting to how much this entire story absolutely sickens me: http://www.nydailynews.com/sports/football/sapp-claims-incognito-called-n-word-g.... No matter how uncontrollable I can be at times, or no matter how much I occasionally make the wrong joke at an inappropriate time, there's something absolutely wrong with a white guy using the "n-word". And there's something just as wrong with anyone, but especially, black men calling a white man an "honorary (n-word)". So I'm saying that for me to insinuate that we celebrate an "Honorary Black History Month For White People" is insensitive and line-crossing, even for my tastes. Moving on then... This prompt is harder than it looks, because you can't really escape the fact that there's pretty much a day that celebrates everything in some capacity. National Hot Dog Day. National Take Your Kid To Work Day. The <insert your nationality here> Pride Parade. Hockey has its own day even. There's no WDC emoticon, so you'd probably never know, but yup, "Hockey Day In America" is a real thing. You're more than capable of looking that up on your own. I hear Google's a good place to start. So what's left for me to make a scene of celebrate? Tacos are out, because damn near every restaurant that isn't named Taco Bell that sells tacos has a "Taco Tuesday". I'm not egotistical enough to think my birthday should be some kind of national cause of rampant glee and overindulgence (although in my mid- to late-twenties, you'd never have known that). I can't live without my radio (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GdkamS5axHQ), my Adidas (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5xXhPAud1io), or livin' if it's without you (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f1_ZukxEpfs), but none of that's exactly holiday-worthy. What's a guy to do? No pants day? That exists. National Punch Day? Apparently, no one's been brave enough to admit that this is something people partake in, be it of the juice or fisticuffs variety. Even National Nothing Day is a thing. We could just have an entire month where we don't officially celebrate anything...oh wait, that's August. I've got it. National Turtleneck And Chain Day! We all dress up like weird-looking hipsters wearing turtlenecks and cheap gold chains, singing this http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gAYL5H46QnQ and randomly throwing things just to see them break. Happy Birthday to the ground! You can't trust the system! Book it. I expect a Hallmark card for whenever this day is made a into a money-grubbing full-fledged day of acting upon the notions of how awesome life is. BCF PROMPT: "How do you handle the conversation topper? You know the person that has always done what you have but it is always more, like you've been to Paris for a weekend, she or he has been there for a week. The person may have endearing qualities but.... " And, this is why I hate having conversations with people in real life. Not because of this person, but because I don't wanna come off sounding like that person. I've done some pretty crazy things and had some amazing experiences, but you don't need some guy blogging from his bed in the middle of Nowhere, NY telling you that you don't want to be engaging someone who: 1) can do something better than you; 2) has a friend that knows more than you; or 3) is bat-shit insane enough to physically prove #1 and/or #2. Trust me...I've got the scars as evidence. Navigating conversation with these gifted individuals is tricky. Normally, with a personal of reasonable character you can subtly redirect the topic. But the one-upper? Not so much. If at all possible, you have to cause a diversion that doesn't make you look like the ass bad guy. This works best in parties, crowded rooms, or anywhere else you might be where you can excuse yourself and pass this problem child off to someone else exit the scene. If you're on the phone with them, I'll bet you within sixty seconds you can find no less than five ways to mimic a disturbance that requires immediate attention, ensuring you'll call that person back as soon as you can (which is about long enough for you to forget they're a topper)...you probably couldn't name five ways in an hour if I asked you, but I swear there's a sixth sense that everyone has that starts going off in your head when you're in this situation. "I'll call you back, friend...my eyes are on fire!" "Can you hold on a minute, mate...I think Miley Cyrus is having a seizure." (No wait, don't use that one...I think the kids call that "twerking" these days.) "I hate to cut you short, jerk off, but clearly you're at a Bullshit Party and didn't care to include me until now, which is obviously very last-minute of you and in poor taste. TTYL!" See how easy that was? But ducking out of the in-person, one-on-one scenario is one of those things where it's hard to master, but all the more gratifying. It's probably the best situation I can think of that it pays to be tactful the most. I suggest feigning an injury. I worked in a sporting goods store once where we would amuse ourselves during downtime with acts of foolishness attention-diverting behavior we used to call "A Slippery". Pretending to read something while walking into a bench and tripping? Knocking down an entire display of boxed basketballs, ensuring at least another half-hour's worth of work just to restack them away from a chatterbox? Standing on a ladder trying to hang a sign and falling into a few racks of ski jackets (unharmed, of course)? These are all valuable and proven techniques of knocking the idiot who won't shut up off their pathetic little soap box. Feel free to take notes on this and adapt them to your own personal life's situations. You'll thank me for it later. MUSICAL BREAK!! On this very day in history, Wu-Tang Clan's Enter The 36 Chambers came out 20 years ago. There's a fascinating article about the members on Grantland: http://www.grantland.com/blog/hollywood-prospectus/post/_/id/92046/enter-the-wu-.... An oral history with a behind-the-scenes look at what was going on during the making of that album can also be found here: http://www.spin.com/articles/wu-tang-clan-enter-the-wu-tang-36-chambers-oral-his.... It may not be the Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band of my generation, but I'd be lying if I said this cd didn't have some affect on me. THE DAILY BOX SCORE:  Raise your hand if you've ever heard me complain about trying to write a blog entry from Blackberry Central and how much of a pain in the ass that was. Lucky you! Well, it seems I've stumbled on the one thing that could possibly be worse than that (speaking in context)...doing this without a mouse. The batteries in my wireless mouse died yesterday, and I'd forgotten to stock up on AAA's, because you never really plan for things like that to happen when everything's working (see my opening paragraph today about not feeling well as an example). Then I remembered I had a pair of AAA's from an old voice recorder of mine I came across that were unused...sealed nicely in the plastic they came in inside the unit's box. They didn't work when I popped them in, because I got the damn voice recorder somewhere between 12 and 15 years ago... . Go me. And for some reason, everything else I own that takes batteries requires AA, not AAA...so I couldn't just scrounge around and pirate them from another device. So I'm doing this mouseless. And it sucks because of my absolute hatred for touch-anything when it comes to electronics, including the ones laptops have. I've probably reached over twenty times while typing this for a mouse that's not working, like I'm trying to scratch an itch with a phantom limb or something. And going to the store for replacements isn't in the budget until next weekend, and seeing how tired my wrist is already from weird copy/paste movements it's not used to, I'll probably have one arm that looks like Popeye's by then. Which reminds me... I've fallen into this trap with my personal (non-WDC) email where if I have more than a certain amount of messages, I give up as if I can't control them anymore and refuse to even try going over to Hotmail to check them. I'm not sure what the actual threshold is, and my spam filter is excellent, but there's just too many. Maybe if I disable the live Outlook tile on Windows 8 I'll know there's not over 100 new messages, and I'll go back to systematically checking them more frequently. I bring this up because sometimes I get emails from CVS offering me $3 off most items, and that would come in handy with a purchase of new batteries. I swear I'm not lazy as much as I'm unmotivated. Another reason for not feeling like writing today? There's a Notre Dame game that started...oh...45 minutes ago. I knew I'd be taking awhile to toss this entry up, but I didn't think I'd miss this much of the game. Looks like I need to speed this thing up.Or shut it down completely. Sounds like a plan. Besides, I'm gettin' kinda hungry finally as well. Peace, I did that once too, only...GOODNIGHT NOW!!  |
| 30DBC PROMPT: "How do you think we should protect young persons from seeing/learning the evils of life? Is it even something we should do? Is it even possible?" What's up everyone? It's "Opinion Thursday" for the "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" , which is actually one of my favorite days to write for. Why? Because informed opinions can't be wrong. Oh sure, they can be morally upsetting, or you may not agree with them, but for the most part the beauty of having an opinion means you're not wrong. Unless you're talking about wearing white pants after Labor Day. We all know how wrong that is. And I'm gonna go out on a limb and say unless you're Oprah-rich and living somewhere in the Caribbean, white pants just shouldn't be worn ever. Although most of you probably aren't slobs with facial hair that makes eating a chore, and food doesn't randomly drip from your beard to your lap. That doesn't happen to you? Oh, ok...me neither then. So anyway, yeah, this prompt. Haven't we already covered the "I'm the last person you want to take advice from regarding today's youth" somewhere before? I'm pretty sure I did. But since you asked, here's my take... You can't shelter kids; you can only support them emotionally in the aftermath when things don't work out. You do all you can to ensure they'll become good people, but it's physically impossible to keep them away from people who weren't raised with the same ideals. You'll never understand why some people are drawn to others regardless of the likelihood of them winding up hurt or on the short side of the ledger. All you can do is be there for them when they fall. Unless they keep falling, and then maybe it's best if you get out of the way...the longer the pillow or training wheels are still there, the possibility exists that they won't mind these things happening because they won't know how to clean up their scrapes. So yeah, it's a fine line. Another point to make is that while you're doing all you can, that still doesn't make young people immune from life. You can ban everything you want, but a resourceful person will still find it anyway. Look at candy, music, and sex. You can rant a blue streak about the dangers of all three at a young age, but kids aren't stupid...if they can't get what they want under your watch, they'll get it another way. It's better in the long run to be open about the dangers of certain things rather than shielding and pretending they don't exist. Better to warn your kid about the possibilities unprotected sex can lead to than to find yourself being a grandparent in your thirties. And cavities...we're talkin' about cavities...naw man, not that. The point is, the world is a beautiful and scary place. Under every rock is the chance for hope and horror. You do the best you can, but you've got to believe that's good enough and your seed has been able to make good decisions and/or have been able to surround themselves with well-intentioned people. The society we live in nowadays doesn't hold back on negativity. Watch your local news for five minutes and you'd be hard-pressed to want to put a child into this world. But you can't do that (I'm pretty sure there are laws against it) and nor should you. Bad things are a part of life. That's why they (I don't know who "they" are, but you might) say it's better to be a well-rounded person. That doesn't mean you're swelling with positive experiences. It just means you're aware of all that life can throw at you, and you're better equipped at dealing with things when they go down the shitter. And trust me, if I'm not smart enough to be helping anyone raise their kids, I'm at least experienced enough to know that life isn't always free coffee at McDonalds, puppy dog kisses, and meals in silence (or at least minus the blather of "pretend good-day" talk). BCF PROMPT: "Do you listen to music when you write? What kind do you prefer? What would happen to your writing if you switched it up, tell us about it? If you don't tell us why?" Even though I've spoken about this before, I'll be glad to oblige the prompt again. No. I can't listen to anything while I'm writing. I have a hard enough time with my thoughts as it is, let alone trying to blast them out while music is playing. And I love music. I started a Facebook page because I love music (which really, is only proof that in this day and age anyone with half a brain can do 90% of what's required of anything related to being on the internet). I have a vast knowledge of songs, bands, artists, what have you...all of which is pretty useless in the real world. But no, I can't do two things at once like that. Can't watch tv and talk on the phone. Can't write and have music playing. Can't walk and expect traffic to move around me. Some things just aren't meant to be. For me, at least. I think this question was posed recently as well by WDC Support on the newsfeed. Many answered with "yes, light classical music" or "some instrumental jazz". Sounds good in theory, but my attention span difficulties make it a problem to type when my fingers are more concerned with drumming along to a beat that may or may not be there. And yes, that's a real thing. When I do something, I want to be able to do it well, and not be compromised by anything in my surroundings. Even my ex knew better...there was just a look on my face apparently when she'd come into my ManCave to ask me something while I was trying to come up with the next greatest blog entry the internet had ever known. "Oh...you're writing...never mind"...thankfully, world-shaping decisions didn't need to be made during those moments. That's how badly I prefer not to be bothered...when the most beautiful girl in the world is telling you dinner is ready, and you're starving, but you need to finish your thoughts because if food interferes with them, they might go away. Says the guy who smack-dab in the middle of his blog has a segment entitled... MUSICAL BREAK!! Rarely do I get an opportunity to match up the perfect song with a prompt or two. But I think I came close today...with the sexiest Canadian male (or any male I'll ever have the privilege of deeming as such). It's music you can feel comfortable playing for your mother, which is exactly what I did on our last roadie to CT this past weekend. I don't remember if I played this exact song, but whatever. It fits. THE DAILY BOX SCORE:  I'm appreciative of the fancy new awardicon ribbon this tiny little nugget of internetgasm is sporting from groovygirl, because of the sarcasm. I don't know whether to be proud, or schedule my therapist visits more frequently. So I gave in, like I do with most internet trends, recently (and later than the crowd), and started playing Words With Friends. Which is basically Scrabble at the pace you'd prefer to play at. And for a person who likes to write words a lot, I'm positively horrible at it. Which is no surprise, because I was never really good at Scrabble anyway. And when the weatherman on the tv news you grew up watching houses you with a 191-point word, you need to rethink your life's choices regarding internet games. And it's not just this guy, who doubles as a Mark Twain one-man play (http://www.marktwainlive.com/)...I'm getting rolled left and right by everyone I've played so far. It should be called "Words With People You Kinda Know Who Can't Wait To Kick Your Ass At 'Words With Friends'".And, well, since I've yet to begun doing good things in the world today (besides posting that pic on Facebook of a bra with a Rubik's Cube instead of a clasp in the back) and I haven't taken a nap yet, I should probably hit the "Save Entry" designation on this and GTFO of here before you decide to do something serious, like let me babysit for awhile. Peace, the same thing for our lives, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
| 30DBC PROMPT: "Are you competing in NaNoWriMo this month? Have you ever participated in the past? Tell us about your experience. If you have not competed, do you ever want to? How do you combat writer's block?" Wow. Hello folks. Another weekend in Connecticut, and it's already Monday night? Recovery has its privileges, I suppose. I should turn myself into a corporation. That'd be fun, plus I know I can put in the work...until I get bored by myself. Then what? So it's another November. That's cool...it only happens once a year. But NaNoWriMo? Let's consider: I believe this stands for National Novel Writing Month. Great idea in theory. But I don't write novels (although I've sent out a pissed off text or 523 in my time that were mocked as being "novelesque"). I don't know if I'll ever be able to sustain the drama that comes with writing fiction over the necessary long haul it requires. I have a hard enough time getting up for writing a damn blog entry now and again, and that requires less thought than a paperback you can buy at a drug store does. But hey, if you wanna write a novel, knock your socks off. I'm all for it. I applaud you all. I support the notions. I can't wait to see you all on some "best seller" list. I say that with love, and not sarcasm. You can do it. Me? No. No interest. Tried it. Got bored. Moved on with life. My problem? I could eat a can of alphabet soup and crap out a better novel than most of the trash you'll find in a bookstore's back room, but I don't eat soup. Or drink it. Or do whatever it is you do with soup. Any way you slurp it, it's still not my game. That's not to say I won't give it another go-'round at some point. My brother DMFM wanted a biography at one time, and if I never signed up to write it, I will eventually. Other than that, you won't catch me trying to write a book. Ever. Condensing my musings on life into an anthology? Maybe. Publishing poetry? Perhaps. But a novel? Not with the added pressure that comes along with November and its "NaNoWhatImmaCallIt" ways. Naw man, I got other stuff to do. And "writer's block"? Well, you either work through it by writing trash over and over, or you just don't. As in, don't. And you live your life. Eventually, it comes back to you, and you wonder why you haven't written for so long. And sometimes you wonder why you even bothered attempting in the first place. BCF PROMPT: "Your entire community — however you define that; your hometown, your neighborhood, your family, your colleagues — is guaranteed to read your blog tomorrow. Write the post you’d like them all to see." I giggled a little seeing this prompt. I also veered back and forth between the 11/4 and 11/5 prompts, wondering which one I should address. I started before midnight (WDC time), and it's after midnight now. How such conundrums used to confuse me. I'm making a decision, and you're gonna live with it. 11/4, take the controls. It's no secret what I do when I write. It's open for everyone. When I write a blog entry, it goes up on Twitter and Facebook. The moment I'm ashamed of what I post on the internet is the day I no longer care about anyone/anything ever. I don't hide and I've got little to hide. Common knowledge happens when I hit the "Save Entry" button. Do I have a community? I don't know. Not physically...not where I live. These people here could give fucks about other things, as could I regarding them. In this headspace of internet usage, maybe I do have a cottage on the lake of caring people. I'm not really worried about it though. I'd love to say you'll all be rewarded someday for your patience and forgiveness and loyalty, but we both know we don't have a clue as to how that's gonna happen. Conspiring isn't as strong a suit anymore, and not giving a rat's ass looks a lot better anyway. MUSICAL BREAK!! Oh, you cheeky bastard you...retiring and then going back on tour. THE DAILY BOX SCORE:  Oh, McDonalds. Oh, Mass Pike. Could nothing be worse than settling for a burger and then realizing understanding that you're not destined for one anyway? We decided to stop for food at a Massachusetts rest stop, but not the same one we'd stopped at before because of service issues and quality concerns. Turns out they were "out of power" and couldn't take orders. Them Massholes must hate me for only liking McDonalds' road food for breakfast.Oh I wish I had more to add, and I probably do, but I need to do some understanding on this "bedtime" thing you people speak so highly of. I wish you all well, peace, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! |
| 30DBC PROMPT: "Invalid Item" Oh hey...you're still here. And I'm here. Let's just...yeah. And let's just pretend that we didn't...but you did? Already? Alright then. We did. We'll live with the consequences then. I apologize in (what's the opposite of "advance"?) for any texts, emails, comments, messages, or Facebook musings I may have made that were offensive or seemingly out of character yesterday. Exhaustion became of me. Energy, I have little of. And when I sit to gather thoughts, I become tired. And when one or the other hits me, well, all bets are off, and I say things because I think I'm funny, but I'd appreciate a well-placed STFU rather than, ahhh, ummm, alternatives. And tired is something I reached new levels of this weekend. You often don't know what you're into until you reach it. Some people save themselves for such an occasion, that may or may not happen. I used to balls-out everything I did because I could. Now? Not so much. I spent last weekend in Connecticut again, and it wasn't a vacation by any means. We've been cleaning up/out my uncle's house, getting ready to sell it. I didn't anticipate being able to contribute much to the frenzy, but I kinda did, actually. Although my social skills took a hit when all was said and done by Saturday night. I felt pretty catatonic by the time we all convened for dinner. I'll, uhhh, try to work on that. As opposed to the last time I was in CT, I saw some rather humorous things this time around. One was a shopping cart full of groceries at Geissler's (http://www.geisslers.com/), just rolling through the parking lot by itself without a human in sight claiming ownership. Turns out he left his goods to go back in and play the lotto or something. There was the quote-unquote pizza place we stopped at, which was being manned by gentlemen who clearly spoke English as a second language, and their first wasn't Italian. Hint: when you go into a pizza parlor and it doesn't smell like pizza, GTFO. I wish I could think of some of the funnier stuff I came across this weekend, but I can't. Maybe another time. I know I tried to make sure I laughed a little more this go-'round, and I must've, 'cuz I've been invited back again this coming weekend. BCF PROMPT: "For many of us the seasons are changing, bouncing unpredictably between cold and warm. Are you glad to be moving into a new season, or wishing for one more week of the old?" There's a particular beauty in driving between NY and Connecticut this time of year. You see the leaves changing, creating a colorful landscape that not even a summertime sun can match. It's rather gorgeous. Until you've seen the same scenery for 2-3 hours, and there's 20 minutes left in the trip but you're hell-bent on not stopping again even though you've had to pee since the Mass Pike let you off near NY, and you haven't been able to shake the not-quite-minivan, not-quite-car with the Vermont plates for around 200 miles. Oh sure, by then fuck-all could happen. Especially when you're not a good traveler. And I'm not, nor do I claim that to be a strong suit. But that's for another time, I suppose. Ah, as we were, yes? Cold/warm. What a non-conundrum . Warm, please. One more week, and I promise I'll deal with the winter cold at its worst! So I say. But I won't. No. Not at all. Eff that and a bag of chips. You don't wanna see this cat when it gets cold. I don't "bundle up" because I feel constricted, so I'm often poorly equipped for elements...and besides, when you're only going a few minutes away, what's the need? Unless it's an extreme circumstance. And if that's the case, stay the fuck inside!! But no, society makes us come outside occasionally, and prefers that we wear pants on top of it. The nerve! Anyway, I'll always be a hold-out, wearing shorts not only for comfort structurally, or the rebellious reasoning that "It can't snow if I'm not dressed accordingly". Ten below zero out? Don't go out barefoot. Wind chill is minus 35? Cover your face with anything looking like a scarf...something nicely knitted, a bedsheet, a small child....anything. Just don't be stupid and spend lots of money on something you're only gonna use half the year. That's money you can spend on the other half, covering maybe half your legs, when it's nice out! Nobody pays attention to you from the waist-down unless you're freezing anyway (or stocked with a Pepsi can). And if you're in a climate-controlled environment, my floral-print orange shorts won't offend anyone. Unless I'm wearing a contrasting jacket. Shorts? Jacket....now I'm confusing myself, metaphors, and everything in-between. Summer...yes. Winter: no. Spring? Ok. Autumn: no summer, don't leave me! I'm so off-base, I forgot where I started from. Oh yes...pants! No, I'm not wearing any. MUSICAL BREAK!! And then, this: Live a little, be a gypsy, get around. THE DAILY BOX SCORE:  Fools! The Mets haven't played this late into October since I was old enough to be thrown outta bars for hittin' on your sister and still get my ass outta bed the next morning to make a day of it, only to do it again. Nowadays, I'd at least make her a warm breakfast, and let's just keep that between us, kthanks.  Halloween on this, needy 'weener's:  I either blog or listen to hockey. No two ways about it tonight, in a pair of shorts you wish you owned. They're shiny. You're cute. Me too! Awwwww! The Thomas Vanek trade. We knew it was coming. But how great is the return? Moulson? Firsty? Secondy? Suck it. I'm all for blowing up the franchise. And wanting returns. And the future...wah wah wah...show me a freaking competitive team worth wondering why I can watch NBCsports.com for football and not Sabres games. There's things I don't do or say for reasons. Reasons suck, but respect prevails.And with that, I'm better off catching up on some "Hi, I'm out!" sleep, kickin' holes in proverbial speakers, pullin' plugs, and jettin'. Peace to Lou Reed, you, and GOODNIGHT NOW!! Yes you can. |
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