Monday, August 28, 2006


This week’s prompt for Sunday Scribblings is “monsters”. I had a lot of options as far as where to go with this prompt. I am not sure I ended up choosing the right one but oh well, it is the best I can do at 2 am. I suspect we all have our monsters in our lives. Whether it is a fear of sharks due to movies like Jaws, or ghosts from the poltergeist I guess we all have them. My own personal one is snakes but I am not going to talk about them at all. Nope, just thinking about them gives me the heebee jeebies so (enter George Bush Senior voice here) ,,,,,, “not gunna doit, not gunna doit”. Most monsters we grow out of at some point in our lives. Jaws and snakes and the like just make less sense when we are older. When we realize they are not real. My monster on the other hand gets MORE prevalent the older I get. He torments me numerous times every week and I just don’t know how to get rid of him.

I am being chased and my attacker is getting close. I manage to reach out in desperation and slap it away. Stunned it backs off and gives me time to gain more ground. Soon I am running through the woods with branches and trees slapping me in the face. I think that maybe just maybe I am going to be able to get away. Then I hear its loud piercing scream again and know that I was mistaken. It is still looking for me and soon it will be back.

I lie on the beach watching the waves roll across the shore. Who am I kidding? I am also watching the women roll across the shore as well. I rub sun tan lotion on, adjust my towel to be more comfortable, and close my eyes. Ah, a day off, with pay. I watch as a few children begin tossing bread to a group of seagulls. They flutter their wings against the wind and nimbly pluck the bread out of the air a piece at a time. I hear their pleasant chirping and lean back closing my eyes once again. This is the life. Suddenly the chirping gets much more high pitched. I open my eyes half expecting to see 4 million of them but instead the monster is back. Down the beach and heading my way. I throw sand at him and once again he is stunned into silence. I take the time to once again make my escape.

I am driving around in my new Jaguar convertible. I don’t remember trading in ole mustang sally but that is how things seem to go in this world. A gentle breeze is blowing through my hair and the sun beats down on the top of my head. I watch as a group of attractive ladies crosses in front of my car and am pleased to see one of them looking back to flirt with me. I smile back and try to think of something witty to say. Just as I do, a loud blaring horn invades my thoughts. I blink and suddenly I am sitting on the train tracks with a train bearing down on me as fast as it can. Sitting in the conductor’s seat is the monster and he has a huge shit eating grin on his face. You thought you had lost me that grin seems to say. I fight with the ignition, and finally get the car started. Looking back and giving him the single finger salute I peel away. Narrowly escaping him yet again I begin to relax.

Now I am back in the woods. Taking in the scenery of the surrounding mountains. There are no mountains in Florida where I live, but oh well, that is how things seem to work in this world. I watch as a few butterflies take flight from the flowers in front of me. Beautiful I think. I love Mother Nature, at least when she is in a good mood. I hear something snap behind me and turn around just in time to see a bear standing on its hind legs. It opens its mouth to let out a ferocious roar. I am puzzled to hear the roar is high pitched again, until I realize my monster has just changed uniforms yet again. He can change costumes all he wants, his voice will always give him away. I take off running again and feel the ground shaking behind me. I am pumping and pumping my legs as fast as they will go but for some reason I don’t seem to be getting any where. I look down and am somehow not too surprised to see I am running in quicksand. Oh well, that is just how things work in this world. Just when I think it is useless I come out into a clearing and have gotten away yet again.

Now I am falling. OH my God I am falling. The clearing was no clearing at all. It was a cliff and now my heart races as I tell myself not to panic. This works until I realize that I don’t have a parachute. This could be a problem, even in this world. Then I relax, as I realize I am not falling at all. I am diving instead. I don’t need a parachute cause I am diving into a pool filled with money. There are crisp 5’s , 10’s twentys, and even some 3 thousand dollar bills. Woohoooo I shall be rich!

I hear the loud scream again and look back down at the money. I fully expect to see my monster standing there awaiting my arrival. I don’t see him at first until he lets out another high pitched sound that this time is clearly a laugh. Oh no, that is no pool after all. That is my monsters mouth. Panic begins to set in again. Until I realize that there is a pattern going on here. Six minutes of peace, followed by Piercing screams, followed by me fighting him off, followed by six minutes of nirvana , and so on and so on the cycle continues.

Eventually I tire of fighting the monster. I endure his taunting laugh as he realizes he has won yet again.

Swinging my feet out of bed and turning off the alarm completely this time, I mumble. Tomorrow, Tomorrow I shall defeat you you bastard.

For more Sunday scribblings click here.


Sunday, August 27, 2006

Mom knows best

As I mentioned already in a couple of posts, Jason is having another shortstory contest. The object was to create a piece based on the above picture in only 250 words or less. There have already been enough submissions to make this contest a roaring success, but you still have a couple of days to join and make it even better. Either way, be sure to head over there to read some or all of them. I am headed there to read some more of them myself in fact between working on my post for this week's Sunday scribblings prompt. They really are quite good. A few of my favorites so far are from Flood, Rebecca, Jeff, and Fringes to name a few. Meanwhile, here is my submission.

Mom knows best

It’s over, it’s finally over.

Mothers are always right.

“You wouldn’t like it if someone did that to you!” She would always say.

I stood outside stunned at the contrasting scene before me. The sky was filled with beautiful clouds and the moon appeared on the verge of peaking through. I found it very hard to reconcile that sky with the destruction I was seeing. Tree limbs, roofing shingles, garbage cans, and even a large picnic table were scattered everywhere in our yard. I wondered who it belonged to and if they would ever have another picnic. A huge oak tree lay sprawled across the road stopping less than ten feet from our front door.

I recalled how scared I had been when the wind was at its worst. The trailer shook so violently, I thought the whole thing would be lifted up and carried away. It was as if a giant were outside and this time I was the hamster. Our trailer, my cage. I prayed for his mother to come along and stop him. Hearing the loud crash outside even mom had lost her cool for a second.

“We’re going to die” she’d muttered.

Recalling those words now, chilled me to the bone. I looked skyward, and promised to never shake my hamster’s cage again.

It’s over, it’s finally over.

“Get your ass back in here!” dragged me from my thoughts.

“What is it mom?”

“This is just the eye!”

Mothers (gulp), always right.


Friday, August 25, 2006

Even BD can do it

I woke up early this morning and even managed to only push the snooze alarm 11 times instead of the normal 26. Why? Because, thanks to a certain sneaky dog that can type I have had Pot roast on my mind lately. One of my favorite recipes is called ‘to die for pot roast’. I believe it was first posted by Mrs Mo over at In actuality, it should be called something more like ‘even Rob can do it pot roast’. So anyways my day went something like this.

6 am-wake up early.

6:07- wake up again….

6:14- third time is the charm ‘they’ say….

6:21-do my part to prove ‘they’ aren’t as smart as they think they are……

6:28-finally drag my butt out of bed.

6:29-beg, and attempt to bribe kash to go to work for me.

6:30- let kash out, telling her if SHE doesn’t stop laughing I won’t let HER back in.

6:31-leave the door cracked so she can let herself back in.

6:32-7:15 am-took care of the three S’s. Sh*t, shower, Shave.

7:17- stand in front of the mirror, flex and pose, to show off my awesome physique, since
We ALL know EVERY guy on the internet is 6-2 and 240 lbs of pure muscle.

7:18- tell Kash It is not too late to put her back outside if she doesn’t stop laughing again.

NOTE: to those of you that know me, A) get off the floor and stop laughing and B)If I don't look 6-2 or 240 lbs of pure muscle to you maybe you are not squinting your eyes enough. C don’t think I can’t put you outside with HER!

7:19- gather together all ingredients needed which are as follows.

-several small or 4 fairly large potatoes (note: you can use po-TAHT-oes if you prefer)
NOTE 2) attention Dan Quayle, you may use just one ‘potatoe’ if you insist but I don’t
Recommend it.

-1 large onion peeled and diced or sliced
***-five or six cloves of garlic (or be lazy like me and use jarred crushed garlic)
-Two celery stalks cut into slices or inch long pieces (more if you really like celery)
-1pkg of mushrooms sliced or whole (up to you)
-3 to 5 good size carrots (or again be lazy like me and buy a pkg of baby carrots already peeled And chopped)

-1packet of Italian dressing (dry mix)
-1packet of hidden valley ranch dressing (dry mix)
-1packet of brown gravy (dry mix)
- 1 average size roast

****The garlic part is not in the original recipe. That is something I added because I could eat garlic on ice cream. Perhaps that splains my singleness to a degree.

7:20-7:28- prepare everything as follows:

Cut up several potatoes, a pack of mushrooms, carrots, onion, and celery. Place in the bottom of the crock pot. Take one medium sized Pot roast and slice several holes all around it, and insert a clove (or teaspoon) of Garlic in each of them. Brown the pot roast in a pan on the stove for a minute or two on each side. Place the pot roast in the bottom of the crock pot. Combine one packet of Italian seasoning, one packet of brown gravy, and one packet of hidden valley ranch dressing. Sprinkle over the top of the pot roast and veggies. Add 1 ½ to 2 cups of water. Put cover on the crock pot, set on high and cook for about 6 to 7 hours or 8 to 9 on low.

Ta da! That’s it….you are done! The best thing about the crock pot is one simple little thing that I can personally attest to. You almost CAN NOT burn something in it without literally trying to. In fact, I consistently do this on days where I am doomed to both Hellay and hellbee. When I get home 15 hours later everything is still just fine. You just have to put everything in it and then forget it. The only bad thing about it is it IS slow. However, that can work out well. You can do as I did, put it in before work leave for a long period of time, and come home to dinner that is ready. If you DO happen to stay home while it is cooking I have one very definite suggestion. Leave the lid on the whole time that it is cooking. Avoid the temptation to remove the lid and try it out or check on it. This adds a LOT of time to the cooking process. In fact, I would say the most important rule about cooking with the crock pot is to LEAVE the lid on till you are almost positive it is done! The day continues…..

9am-arrive at Hellay.

9:15- find out that two other openers have called in sick. No problem, I’m having pot roast. Some of the big wigs are coming in, causing the managers to freak out and go into full ‘dog and pony show’ mode…….No problem,,,,,, I am having pot roast.

10:45- Get really busy……no problem I am having pot roast.

12pm- watch as one of the other servers sees we are out of spoons in the front, goes to the back, and comes back with the two she needs. Didn’t bring out a whole handful while you were back there as common sense would suggest? No problem, I am having pot roast.

1pm- Old lady at table 503 insists her hamburger is over cooked. It is not, but no problem……..I am having pot roast.

2pm- Clock out and head to hellbee.

3-12pm- Hellbee is really slow. I am talking library night slow. I make about 40 bucks. No problem, I am having pot roast

12:30- Arrive home, open the door and spidey sense tells me something is wrong.

12:31- Distracted by Kash who is quite happy to see me I forget about it and play with her for a while.

12:36-Kash says okay enough is enough and gives me the ‘you have been gone for 15 hours or so and I have to go NOW’ look. Follows it up with a leg crossing ‘I gotta pee really bad’ look you tend to see from three year olds.

12:37-Spend a few moments teasing her at the back door and give her the ‘see you aren’t the only one that can laugh’ look. She returns with the ‘I will poop in your bedroom’ look ending my fun immediately.

“Even that would be okay” I say. “I am having pot roast.”

“we, WE are having pot roast. She corrects me as she flies out of the back door.

12:38- Head back to my room get undressed and start to finally unwind. That spidey feeling hits me again. I ignore it again. I am having pot roast.

12:54-Remember me saying earlier (7:20-7:28am) QUOTE In fact, I would say the most important rule about cooking with the crock pot is to LEAVE the lid on till you are almost positive it is done! UNQUOTE.

Apropos of nothing whatsoever, as I sit here on my couch eating two $1 double cheeseburgers from Mickey Dees I must amend that. That is perhaps the SECOND most important advice I could give you regarding cooking with a crock pot. The first, would HAVE to be,,,,,,,PLUG THE DAMNED THING IN!!

Okay so maybe 'even BD can do it' isn't such a great name after all. For this recipe and more you can visit the copycat recipe site which has a link over there in my side bar.


Tuesday, August 22, 2006

Lonely moon

No mom, I am not talking about getting kicked off the school bus for mooning that car.......

If you haven't already heard, it is time for another fiction writing contest. Jason Evans from The Clarity of night is teaming up this time with USA Today best selling author Anne Frasier. The idea is to write a piece of fiction in 250 words or less inspired by a picture that is posted over at Jason's site. The deadline for entry is Tuesday, August 29th at 11pm(EST). I will post my entry later on this week. Even if you don't plan to enter, head on over and read the many entries. If past contests are any indication, plenty of them will be quite good. For more details, you can find the link in my sidebar or just click HERE.

By the way, If you HAVEN'T heard about this already, SHAME ON YOU! You are supposed to read my blog everyday and twice on Sundays and I posted about it a few days ago. Just kidding obviously.....

not twice on Sundays.


Monday, August 21, 2006



A few weeks ago in Sunday scribblings the prompt was “what could have been.” This was my immediate thought of where to go with that prompt, but before submitting it I chickened out. At the risk of sounding whiney, today being what it is I decided to go ahead and post it anyways(assuming I don’t chicken out yet again).

WARNING: If you are here looking for a funny story, some anecdote or anything like that I apologize in advance. This post is NOT going to be that way. That said here goes….

I don’t know what it is about this week. I don’t know why it seems to hate me so much but clearly it does. I don’t believe in astrology, or psychics and the like. However, if I did, I have no doubt my horoscope for this week would say something like “ prepare for hell.” I am pretty sure Madam cleo would tell me something like, “stay in bed all week you can’t do any damage that way.”

Today I would like to be able to take the time to wish a dear friend a Happy birthday. Thirty six years old today Finn can you believe it? However, I can’t. Today, I should be picking up the phone and laughing about how old you are becoming but I won’t. Today, I should be hearing about ‘no matter how old you get you will never catch up to me.”

But I won’t.

Instead I know full well that tomorrow marks another anniversary. The anniversary of your death 16 years ago in a German city so far away from your home or mine. Instead, I sit here and the sound of Taps playing in my head is all I will hear for the next few days. Such an oxymoronic(is that a word?),,,oh well it is now.

Such an oxymoronic tune if ever there were one. So beautiful, and yet so damn ugly at the same time. Instead, I will hear the final beep of the heart monitor and remember how it felt to realize the screen was never going to blip again, no matter how badly I wanted it to. Instead, I will watch your family in my mind shed more tears than they ever knew they had. Instead, I will imagine them somewhere in Colorado visiting your grave site and uttering a few words. Instead, I will ask myself over and over if there were more that I could have done. Instead, I will focus on the what ifs and wonder why am I still here and you are gone. Instead, I will sit here thinking about how easily it could have been the other way around had I continued just a few more weeks with the constant overdrinking.
The constant partying…….The constant stupid things we did in search of the next adrenaline rush…..Instead, I will sit here for the next few days and fight the urge to drink myself numb.

Instead, I will wonder had the roles been reversed would you have pushed harder to make me stop or would you too have been too afraid of preaching? I will wonder if me still being here is a blessing, a curse, or a little bit of both.

I hear you Finn. I know you are telling me that just because this is that time of year, I shouldn’t let it bother me. I know you are telling me ‘so what if it has been exactly a year since ‘the one that got away’, got away. I have no doubt you are looking at me right now, shaking your head, and telling me to “pull my head our of my ass and move on.” What I wouldn’t give to have you tell me to ‘quit acting like a woman’ in that beaner accent of yours. What I wouldn’t give for another chance to preach and sound like a wuss. I hear you my friend, but today that isn’t going to work. Today, I deserve the misery I feel. Of that I have no doubt. Today my friend I just wanted to let you know, you may be gone but you are not forgotten.

I don’t know why this week hates me so, I only know that it does. It is a week when good friends die way too damn young. It is a week when ‘the one that got away’ got away. It is a week when the old saying ‘if it can go wrong it does’ brings itself to whole new levels.

Joseph R. Finn III
21 August 1970 -22 August 1990

Rest In Peace my friend, I will see you when I see you.

Kash checks in

This week’s prompt for Sunday Scribblings is “the inner life of pets”. Sorry this post is a bit late but I had to wait for HIM to fall asleep or go to work, or whatever else it is you humans do. He is in the other room watching the Redsox/Yankees game. If history is any indication his attention should be diverted for a while at least. If history is any indication, he will be too busy pacing back and forth to notice what I am doing. I will try to get this in while he is distracted. My name is Kash and I am filling in for Briliantdonkey on this week’s Sunday scribblings prompt. I am an 8 year old Norwegian Elkhound and I live in Florida with BD. Check that, BD lives in Florida with me that should say. Oh I let him think he is in charge but make no mistake I run this place not him.

Rut roh,,,, screaming from the other room doesn’t make me think things are going too well right this moment. What does “son of a B**ch” mean anyways?

These humans, well YOU humans I have to say are so very odd. For instance, He likes to think that HE is in charge but let me tell you otherwise. Let us see. One of us lies around the house all day and the other goes to work to pay the bills for the house in which the other lays around in all day. Who is in charge? One of us, poops in the yard or in the park and the other walks around behind cleaning up the mess. Like that comic genius Seinfeld says, if the aliens are looking down on us right now and they see this happening who do you think THEY will consider to be in charge hmmmm??? Who is in charge? ONE of us does all the dishes everyday, and the other listens to him ask ‘why don’t you do some dishes while I am gone?” Make no mistake, he is right. I COULD do the dishes if I chose to. Hogwash you say? Dogs can’t do dishes you say? Well, I bet you didn’t think dogs could type either, but here I am doing so. Besides, why would I want to let him know I can do that? Next thing you know I would end up typing letters every day and get a serious case of dishpan paws. Thanks, but no thanks I will pass.

Cheering from the other room made me click the remote over from animal planet to see the sox apparently took the lead. Good, good for him. Now like I was saying I could cook dinner as well once in a while but I am smarter than that. Instead, I just snuck into his computer and doubled all the recipes. He is a pretty darn good cook I must admit but he isn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer you know.

It is so funny, he may NEVER figure out why every time he cooks something he ends up with way too much for just one person. That is where I come in. I look at him and watch as he scratches his head with that confused look on his face. That look is priceless I tell you. I watch patiently as he gets ready to put the leftovers into the refrigerator. That is when, I just “accidentally HAPPEN” to stroll into the kitchen right on time. I wag my tail,look pretty, and break out my secret weapon, puppy dog eyes. Next thing you know, BLAM, I am eating chicken parmigan, meatloaf, pot roast, or lasagna. What’s that? That is mean you say? Nah, not mean, YOU try eating kibble everyday of the week and see how quickly YOU take steps to make sure you get lots of good leftovers.

Anyways, where was I? Oh yeah I am in charge around here not him. Think about it. He scratches my belly to the point of making my leg do that weird ‘kick kick kick’ thing. What is THAT all about anyways? Does that sound to you like someone who is in charge or not? I rest my case your honor. Oh shit, sounds like the game is over and it didn’t go well. I better go hide this computer in case he is in the mood to break something. I better hide the remote lest he accidentally throw it through the television screen like that time back in '86. Kind of ironic that he did so after an error, but at least he can never again have a fit about any kind of throwing error. Who the hell are these ball players anyways? And why do so many of them have the same middle name?

Bucky "bleeping" Dent

Bill "bleeping" Buckner

Brett" bleeping" boone....

wierd I say, but hey I am just a dog. Anyways, catching me doing this won’t improve his mood so let me run! For more Sunday Scribblings posts please click here.


Friday, August 18, 2006

just a little note

Hey all,

I am feeling a bit like smokey and the bandit today. I got a LONG way to go and a short time to get there. I have my fantasy football draft tomorrow and am trying to prepare for that(first time for everything). Also I am trying to work on a post for a challenge by Flood and Fringes in which we are using exact words from each of thirty different blogs to make a story. If you would like to give it a try head on over and check it out. What else? Oh, if you haven't heard Jason Evans is about to launch another contest this tuesday. I am looking forward to participating in another one of those and reading the great entries as well. The biggest thing going on is tonight starts another chapter in the endless series between My Beloved REDSOX and thier most bitter rival the Yankees. 5 games, 4 days,,,,, Lets get ready to rummmmbllllleeeeeeee. That is about it for now, I will try to post more later, but I have to get busy.


Monday, August 14, 2006

What can I still become

What can I still become

Hello, everybody, this is brilliant donkey yet again. I told you the story last week of Eric Evans and his being visited in a dream by Jeremiah. To tell the truth, that dream and that story affected me more than I would have imagined, but more on that later. This week’s prompt in Sunday Scribblings is kind of a continuation of last week’s. It is “Who else can I still be?” For me that answer is simple. However, that question doesn’t quite do the job of what I want it to. If you are here again, I will take that as a sign that you don’t think that I have totally lost it. If you are here again, I will choose to ignore the possibility that you simply clicked on the wrong link again. Like I said, that story affected me a good bit and made me decide to make some changes. Changes for the better I can only hope. In case you missed it, and you would like to take a look yourself and hear this story it can be found a few posts back or by clicking here (

To me, this prompt doesn’t quite do the job after hearing this story. Therefore, I am going to slightly modify it to say “what WILL I still become?” I was quite scared after that story, though it took me a while to admit it. I worried about all the things I myself hadn’t believed. I worried about all the things that I had blown off and the consequences of such. This was really depressing at first until I decided to start doing something about it. Some of the changes I have made are as follows:

I quit smoking immediately and constantly checked to see if I had grown any or worse yet if I was shrinking. I began being more careful about where I walked, and called in to check on my mother everyday to make sure she was okay. I even stopped drinking, though that didn’t last. Since I only have three hairs on my chest any ways I figured I could use that one to my advantage. Don’t ask me how much time I have spent in the mirror checking for new ones, trust me you don’t want to know. Needless to say it was a bit of a trying time for me. And then it dawned on me. If all these bad so called ‘myths’ were actually possible then couldn’t it also be true that the good ones were as well?

Struck by this revelation, I immediately began doing a lot of research. I emptied out my inbox, scoured my memory, and went on determined to look at the glass as half full. So, “what can I still become?” No, the question is now more like what WILL I become? And my answers are as follows.

I WILL be rich! I will be rich beyond my wildest dreams though it won’t happen over night. Until then though, Bill Gates is going to send me $45,000 dollars for each of the ten people I forward his email to. 45,000 times 724 and counting, YOU do the math.

I worried for a moment that I would be hungry from spending all that time at the computer but that turns out not to be a problem. After all, the M &M Company and the fine folks at Ben and Jerry’s WILL be sending me all I can handle for doing the same email thing.

I worried for a moment, that all this food would make me fat. However, I know now that won’t happen. As I was driving home the other day I saw a sign “lose 45 pounds in 3 days” and get this, it is GUARANTEED! So bring on the fat, I now know how to handle it!

Also, I will never have to worry about shopping for clothes again. Nike and Neiman Marcus after all will be glad to send me free shoes and clothes.

I spent the day walking around and looking for pennies. I ended up finding 7 of them and six were on heads! It was however kind of hard to pick them up being as my fingers were all crossed but hey a little perseverance paid off. How much good luck can one person expect?

I quit my job and decided you know what? I DO want to make $4500 a week on my own time just by stuffing envelopes!

I WILL get in shape and be stronger than ever before, yeah yeah, keep all the “well that don’t take much” comments to your self.

I will have buns of steel because I just ordered the tape.

I will have six pack abs and in just 9 seconds a day!

My fortune cookie told me what lottery numbers to play and so I did!

I will make me bigger, stronger, faster, smarter and richer than before. The six million dollar man ain’t gonna have SHIT on me!

They say “size doesn’t matter”, but why take the chance when the add in the paper guarantees an extra 3 inches?

Does all of this make me sound greedy? Oh no! Don’t worry; I have forwarded each of these emails to each and every one of you. I have shared your phone numbers and addresses with them as well so that YOU too can reap the benefits!

You can thank me later.



Saturday, August 12, 2006

drugs of choice

Ahhhhh all things are slowly becoming right in the world again. It is that time of year. A time to celebrate as things are looking up. A time when most of us stand up and pee’ers and even some of those that sit take at least a little bit of time to ‘just get along’. Racial lines are crossed. Political differences are put aside. For a while, even religious disagreements are put on the back burner.

The last few months have been like crossing a desert. The air was dry, the sand kept blowing in our eyes and we were dying of thirst. We had been here before. It is a trip we take every single year in fact. We know that if we hang in there long enough there will be a light at the end of the tunnel. We know if we hang in there long enough a nice shady watering hole will suddenly appear and all will be right yet again. As always there were numerous points along the way where we thought we saw it. There were numerous points where we started to pick up the pace only to watch helplessly as it turned out to be nothing more than a mirage moving farther and farther away. Thoughts of I am too damn old to keep making this trip invariably enter my mind. Thoughts of this time this trip is going to kill me visit over and over.

And then out of nowhere a savior appears. He doesn’t really have the look of the savior that most people, or at least me, conjure up in our minds. He stands about 5 foot 2 is of Philippine descent, wears thick coke bottle sized glasses and walks with a very noticeable limp. Perhaps, it is the limp of one who has dragged quite a few of us on the verge of dying from this desert over the years.

He is dressed as always, in blue shorts, a light blue short sleeved button up shirt, shoes and black socks. Normally, I would make fun of such an outfit if I saw someone wearing it out in public. I have always had a theory, that at some point in every male’s life, something must snap in our brains. I don’t know if it happens on a certain date, or at a certain age. However, this I DO know. At some point in my life I am going to find it totally acceptable to dress like this. Somehow, the idea of going out in the yard with dress shoes, black socks, and shorts will seem normal to me. At some point, sandals or flip flops with these socks will seem like one hell of a fashion statement instead of dorky as hell. At some point, which I hope and pray is still a long ways away some 20-30 year old will be passing ME in Wal-Mart in this type of get up, shake his head and wonder what the HELL is that old man thinking? The day is coming, I have no doubt, but thankfully that day is not here yet.

In his defense though I must say that he doesn’t dress like this by choice so I tend to cut him some slack. Even with that being the case, it usually takes all my effort and all my will power to not at least consider making fun of him too. Not on this day though. On this day, this gentlemen who is fond (or maybe not so much so), of words like “rain, and sleet or dark of night” gets an absolute free pass from me. Hell, on this day if he showed up wearing a tutu and Tammy Faye Bakeresque type makeup he would get a free pass as well. He is my drug dealer and I have awaited his delivery for days on end. We don’t meet in a back alley however. We don’t pass on the street like in the movies and pass things back and forth in some secret handshake ritual. No, I meet him where I can meet him on any given day almost like clock work though I usually choose not to. However, today he is bringing my drug of choice. My veins are aching for it. They long for it. They are telling me over and over that they can not stand to wait much longer lest I go mad.

I was saying before that this is a time when all for a while is right in the world. It is a time when we seat leaver uppers double check the batteries in the remote control to make sure they are working. It is a time when we double check to make sure our grills are clean and ready. It is a time when we dig out the coolers, clean them out with loving care, and imagine them full. It is a time when every ounce of testosterone in our bodies screams halleluiah, praise God, and God bless America.

That oasis we have been seeing for months really DOES seem to be just up ahead but we await this savior in order to be sure. And then there he is. He sees me coming with a look of apprehension and nervousness on my face and hands me what he knows I need. No needles, no pills, but a drug much more powerful than any of that. I reach out and grab the package from him tearing it open to make sure. I have to make sure that all is in order. And there they are in all their glory. Jaguars football season tickets! That shimmering oasis also known as football season really IS here. Not that silly bounce the ball off your head crap either. I am talking football! REAL football! For that, all us stand up and pee’ers couldn’t be happier if the hooter girls showed up at our door. Unless of course they were carrying our tickets of course. On their behalf, all I can say is halleluiah and God bless AMERICA!


Thursday, August 10, 2006

Weighty issues

Weighty issues

I am working Hellay the other day. Sitting there in the server station with one of the other servers who we shall call Katrina(no relation whatsoever to any kind of tropical storm, hurricane or any other natural disaster). The lunch rush has yet to start, in fact as of right then we are looking more like a library than a restaurant.

“ugh, I am getting so fat” Katrina pipes up after a few minutes.

Mind you, Katrina here is no Ally Mcbeal. She is not going to be seen in your neighborhood checkout line tabloid under the heading ‘anorexic stars battle for their lives’. That said she is far far from anything remotely approaching fat. She is a college student, smart as a whip, approximately 22 years old and I would say weighs oh I don’t know maybe 110 pounds. MAYBE 110 pounds. Now maybe this is just my testosterone getting in the way. I am more than willing to admit, that perhaps the ability to pee standing up keeps me from being able to appropriately understand the trials and tribulations women must go through when forced to worry about their weight all the time. With all that being said, on behalf of the other 98% of women everywhere I think I can speak for most of them when I say to those of you like Katrina out there I can give you a glimpse of what they are thinking about you. However, before I continue, I will take this moment to pause and allow you to go get a pen and or paper so that you can write this down. Go ahead, I will wait………..1 mississippi, 2 mississippi, 3 mississippi………..okay you ready?


Quote: “GO TO HELL!” Unquote.

Quote: “YOU BITCH!” Unquote.

I could continue but I will stop there. Suffice it to say, if you weigh less than one of my legs, You are NOT fat. Mind you, I am not fat myself either. In fact, ‘scrawny’ has been used to describe me (grrrrrrr) more often than fat. Like I said, I don’t pretend to be able to understand how women feel when it comes to the entire issue of weight. However, I can only imagine most women feel the same about the Katrinas of the world as I would feel:

if Mr. Universe were to walk up to me and complain about needing to put on some muscles.

About the same as if Fabio were to come to me and complain about not being able to get women’s attention.

About the same as if Bill gates were to walk up to me and complain about needing money.
In short, were this ever to happen I am pretty sure that I would run through the possible responses in my mind, and consider each one carefully before answering. After being translated from womanese to manish it would sound different, but the feeling behind it wouldn't be much different than the women above and would probably go somehting like this:

A)Shut the hell up!

B)Go to hell

C)You bastard!

And now I will even add one more to it what the hell. I am feeling generous so add to that,

D) All the above!

It would be much like that scene in the terminator where Arnold has just carved his eyeball out and plopped it into the sink. The owner of the place knocks on the door and says something like “hey buddy, you got a dead body in there or what?” The computer in Arnold’s brain comes up with a list of responses sort of like those listed above and ultimatey settles on the most appropriate one of “fuck you asshole.” So, to all of you out there weighing in at a cool 110, and complaining of being fat be careful of expressing that concern or those you are expressing it to may very well do their best terminator impression.

The day goes on pretty much without incident. I leave Hellay and head to hellbee. I am working a banquet that night waiting on about 75 to 100 people. No big deal, in fact it was one of the easiest banquets that I have worked in quite some time. The group? Nexagen? Nexigen? Nexgen? Hell, I don’t know exactly what the product was called. However, the jist of this company is apparently they offer a patch. A patch that is used and supposed to help you to lose weight. Weight seems to be the theme of my day for some reason. Is Karma trying to tell me something? I can’t help laugh to a degree and half expect to see Katrina in the crowd of people there to purchase this latest miracle weight loss cure. Fortunately she isn’t so perhaps she got my memo. Now, I have nothing whatsoever against people who want to lose weight. In fact, if they feel they need to I applaud them for it. I DO however, have a large amount of skepticism about a patch being able to help anyone do so in and of itself. The oddest part of this whole thing, is the person giving this class, touting this miracle patch is, and I am being pretty nice here, HUGE! I am not talking about a little bit over, I am not talking about a lot over weight even. I am talking HUGE! In fact, I quickly come to the conclusion that Katrina was indeed here earlier and perhaps this guy ATE her! THAT is how huge he is.

Okay, not the best spokesman for the weight loss patch I think to myself but keep my trap shut for once. If he thinks he needs to lose weight and believes this patch is the way to do so, bravo I do indeed applaud him for it. I myself am fairly skeptical of such patches, but if they work for smoking, who am I to say they can’t work for this as well. I keep my comments to myself, and even manage to avoid THINKING mean thoughts for the most part. Until……………until this party ends, and everyone goes home. We finish cleaning up and head out the door ourselves. As I do, I note that this instructor,salesman, or whatever is right outside the front door of our establishment and is in a rather heated argument with a police officer. As it turns out, he has avoided the normal parking lot and has parked illegally in a handicapped spot right beside the front door. Okay, I am not being nice anymore, this guy has now immediately lost any sympathy he may have had from me. The whole ‘parking in a handicapped spot’ thing is one of those things that just irks me. Irks me to no end in fact. Don’t get me wrong, those that need it, I think SHOULD indeed use it. Those that are entitled to it, by all means have at it. Those that use it who do NOT need it and are just doing so out of nothing more than laziness? THESE people I have a problem with and always have. Add to that fact, that this particular one happens to be wanting (and frankly NEEDING to lose weight) and my mind just begins to reel with the irony of it all. Lets see…….need to lose some weight:

Option A) Park where you belong, and walk the extra 300 feet. I am no nutritionist or expert on the matter, but I would tend to think that doing so would possibly ohhhhhh I don’t know, maybe burn 13 or 14 calories minimum?


Option B) Lets park illegally in the handicapped spot by the door, possibly causing some 80 year old lady in a wheelchair to have to roll the extra 300 feet. Then,,,,,THEN lets go inside, peddle this miraculous weight loss patch, and wonder why oh why am I not losing weight? Hmmmmmm go figure.

Irony,,,,,,,I love it and yet at times I hate it as well.


Sunday, August 06, 2006

Things could have been different

This week's Sunday scribblings prompt is "who else might I have been"....I kind of veered a bit off that path with this story but oh well, hope you enjoy it anyways.

Things could have been different if only they had listened. Come with me if you will to a place that I have no doubt exists. I have no proof, other than to say that I have been there. Well kind of at least.....

Where is this place you ask? I can't say that I know. I got the impression that it is probably tucked away in some small town in the mountains of North Carolina or in the hills of Tennessee. It struck me as some sort of School at first, though in hindsight a camp may be a better way of describing it. Call it what you will it is a place where people gather or are sent because they failed to listen.

I am not surprised that you haven't heard of it at all. I hadn't either until recently. Maybe our Government keeps it hidden like Area 51, or the numerous space ships that they cover up. Maybe they don't want its existence to be known. Whether they do this out of embarrassment, or to protect us from our own fears, I do not know. Perhaps they do so in order to protect its occupants. Like I said, I do not know and it was not made clear to me. At first I was kind of annoyed with myself for not asking, but then again I suspect I wouldn't have gotten an answer anyways. Who knows, perhaps the existence of such a place is just a rumor, or a figment of my overactive imagination. I can't rule out those possibilities, but I really don't think so.

My name is Eric Evans. I first heard about this type of thing as a kid and I have no doubt you have as well. Chances are you were either sitting around a camp fire or huddled up with a group of your peers at a slumber party when you did. At that time, believing in such things was common place, but as one grows older one tends to learn better. With age comes the realization that the boogey man and his friends are nothing more than urban legend. I know the story I am going to tell you sounds far fetched. I know you will think me crazy or wonder how much I have had to drink tonight. For that I can't say that I blame you, but I for one now believe.

I was visited in a dream a few weeks ago. Go ahead, you can laugh, and roll your eyes all you want. Hell, I am rolling them as I type this. His name was Jeremiah, and while I remember the dream quite clearly, I either never saw what he looked like, or my mind refuses to recall. He carried me on a tour of this place. I say 'carried' and that isn't quite right. However, I didn't feel like we were walking either. It was as if we were somehow floating just inches above the ground. I don't know how else to explain it. I could feel my legs working and yet I couldn't feel my feet coming into contact with the ground.

Anyways he beckoned to me and said simply " I will make you a believer."

"what is that?" I asked my host.

"that is wing A."

In wing A, of this school I now know exists somewhere I see a group of mostly normal looking young men. They all look different in their own ways. Some of them have beards. Some mustaches and some are clean shaven. There are those with short hair, blonde hair, black hair, crew cuts, a few sporting the Mr. Clean look and even some of them sporting mullets(hey I said MOSTLY normal).

Some of them were skinny, some fat, some tall, some short, some with six pack abdomens and some with the whole damn keg. All of them however had one thing in common that I couldn't quite put my finger on at first. Then it dawned on me, not one of them stands a bit over 4 feet tall.

"where are we? what are they doing here? What is this place?" I asked, my mind racing with questions.

"Things could have been different, if only they had listened" was his only reply.

The tour continued on to wing B.
Wing B, was full of absolutely stunning looking women that ranged in age from 18 to 50. Some of them are blonde or Brunette haired. Some have brown eyes, blue eyes, or even green. They each had perfect smiles, size 4 waists, and perky breasts that made the male in me happy to be on this trip.

"wow they are beautiful!"

"yes, yes they are but not not one of them will ever go on a single date again."

"What!?" "But,,,,,,but...."

"things could have been different if only they had listened but they didn't. They didn't believe"....

"what, are they doing here?"

"Their parents probably thought they were just shy at first. They urged them to go meet boys instead of the opposite problem that most parents face. Then they probably figured that she was just gay that was why she showed no interest in them. They were totally supportive and they loved her anyways. Being gay however, was not the problem either. These girls all have a secret. A secret they have kept hidden from everyone and always will. Between the petite waists, immaculate smiles, and 34 d's they could indeed have any man they wanted you would think. However you would be wrong and all of them know it without a doubt in their minds."

"why? what is wrong with them?" I asked.

"Things could have been different if only they had listened,but they refused to believe." was his only response.

"listen to what? believe what?"

Ignoring me the tour continued. He led me along a path to wing C of this little school that I have no doubt exists somewhere out there. Wing C, I see, is not filled with super models but instead is full of people that look fairly normal. However, they all appear to be walking around with the weight of the world on their shoulders. There is no laughter. There are no smiles, no small talk or even facial expressions other than pain. On three separate occasions people passed by us looking skyward, and muttering something about begging their mothers forgiveness. All of them looked as if they were either currently crying, or at least had been.

"what is wrong with them?" I asked knowing I would get no answer.

"They are riddled with guilt, They did not listen, They"

"did not believe" I finished for him "yeah yeah I get it, believe what?"

We moved on to wing D. By now I was not surprised to see that wing D was once again filled with mostly normal looking people. Unlike other wings this one was coed. Once again there were people of all ages, women, men, old, young you name it wing D had it. What did they all have in common? They were all blind as a bat.

"Things could have been different if they had only listened, but they didn't." came his now tiresome saying.

"Listen to what?" I screamed in exasperation.

"this is ridiculous, if you are going to talk in riddles then just take me back!"

Smiling at me as if I had a choice in the matter Jeremiah led me along a path into the woods. The woods were covered in a fog more dense than any I had ever encountered. However, the trail he led me upon seemed to be as clear as could be. It was as if the fog was parting before us like the Red sea. A few minutes later we reached a small clearing where several people were gathered around a blazing fire. Some of them I recognized from the many wings we visited that day. Putting his arm around my shoulder he urged me to take a seat on one of the logs placed around the fire burning there. It was an intense blaze that burned with the fury of hell, and yet I could not feel one bit of heat coming from it.

As I watched, one of the young men from wing A, stood up and approached the fire. As he tossed on a piece of wood, sparks shot into the sky like a million little fire flies taking flight. I watched these sparks and soon saw a picture begin to appear. A younger version of this young man shook in terror at the trouble he was in. His mother stood over him, holding a pack of camel cigarettes and shaking a finger in his face. "Don't you know these things will stunt your growth!" she was saying and tossed the pack of cigarettes into the trash can. As the picture faded Joe Camel said "Things could have been different if only they had listened. If only they believed."

Next came one of the beautiful young women from wing B. She among all the others in fact was the one that had really caught my eye. She reached out and poked at the fire with a stick, sending another spray of fire flies into the night. This time, I saw her as she was years ago. I saw what I can only guess was her father holding up a glass of Jack Daniels, gulping it down, and wincing as he slammed the glass back down on the table. With a shake of his head and a hearty belch he declared "whewwww that stuff will put hair on your chest!" The picture then changed to a slightly older version of her looking around as if in fear of being caught. She winces and puts the bottle of Jack Daniels back into the liquor cabinet quickly. I looked over to Jeremiah,

"you mean?"

"yes, more hair than Big foot" he said shaking his head.

As she passed by me from the fire she looked at me and said "I didn't believe".

This procession went on for I don't know how long. There were people who had been warned,

"don't swallow your gum or it will stick to your ribs."

A girl sporting dark sunglasses passed by saying "don't sit too close to the television, or you will go blind". She was arm in arm with a young man tapping a cane back and forth in front of them. He tossed a playboy at my feet. "here, I won't be needing that anymore" was all he had to say.

"step on a crack, break your mothers back" warned one of the miserable young girls from Wing D through tears of remorse.

When it finally ended, they all stood in unison and headed back towards the woods.

"things could have been different if only we had listened, but we didn't" they all chanted as they entered the woods. I watched them disappear and saw the fog close around them like a stage curtain.

"we didn't believe" the trees themselves seemed to say.

There IS a place like this. Of this I have no doubt because there simply must be. A place where people who didn't listen go to suffer the consequences and get along as best they can. Think me crazy if you like or consider it a dream if it makes you sleep better at night. Call them urban legends, or old wives tales if you dare. Go ahead, you can even laugh about it if the urge strikes you. I won't take offense. I for one however, choose to believe because I have been there.

Well, sort of......

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Wednesday, August 02, 2006

becoming your parents

What have YOU become?

They say that people tend to become their parents. I don’t know who this ‘they’ is that seems to think they know everything about everything but whoever the hell you are ,,,, Write a friggin book already! I used to always question the wisdom of this saying but the older I get the more that I see it is true. I see bits and pieces of my parents in me all the time. At least I can honestly say that I have yet to break out the “this is going to hurt me more than it hurts you” line though. Of course, I don’t have kids yet so it is a good thing that I haven’t I suppose. Otherwise people would be looking at me kind of funny……..again.

Otherwise people would be breaking out the fancy white jacket with the buckles in the back. ………again.

There are a number of things I do do (just when I THOUGHT I might be growing up I can’t avoid entering a beavis and butthead laugh here) that when I was a kid I would have sworn up and down would never EVER happen. My step dad had the worst, most corny, odd, dry sense of humor there ever was….. Until now at least. I think I may have surpassed him by this point. One of his biggest things he would do was to answer a multiple choice question with “yes”. For example: My mom would ask, “do you want to eat out or in tonight?” Answer, “yes”. Example: “Is it hot in here or is it just me?” Answer, “yes.” He used to think he was the most clever person in the world when he did this. Meanwhile, I myself thought in a way that only a teenager can “what a dork!” My eyes would roll so far back in my head they looked like the dials on a slot machine. That was then, and apparently this is now, because I catch myself doing this ALL the time and as much as I try to fight it, I think it is hilarious.

Another thing I remember quite well was part of the morning ritual. Rarely did a day go by that I wouldn’t wake up and have my body tell me "it is time”. Remember the old Dunkin doughnuts commercial where the baker crawls out of bed and mutters 'it's time to make the doughnuts?" I was a very different version of that guy. Same mussed up hair, same half sleep walk,,,,,,,,different doughnuts.

Almost without fail ‘the time’ would come only to find out that he had once again made it to the bathroom in front of me. I would spend the next twenty minutes doing the leg sqeezing, the agonizing, the funky dancing, and trying to set the clock back an hour in my body to put off ‘the time’ till later. I can't tell you just how thankful I was growing up for the ability to pee standing up and at least partially satisfy 'the time'. There is an eighty year old oak tree in the back yard that should be thankful as well because me, my stepdad and 'the time' are directly responsible for at least half of it's growth. Anyways, eventually out he would stroll, with a newspaper, book, or whatever in tow. OHHHH how that drove me just flat out bonkers! What kind of MORON reads in the bathroom anyways? You only have to peruse my bathroom these days to see, I have more reading material than most doctor’s offices. Oh and much MUCH more up to date reading material by the way. Attention all you Docs out there…….If the magazines in your waiting room are older than most of your patients, it might,,,,,,just MIGHT be time to RENEW THE SUBSCRIPTION! If the magazines in your waiting room are reporting the recent developments of say,,,,,,man landing on the moon, the upcoming invention of the telephone, or the original copy of the Declaration of Independence,,,,,it might,,,,,MIGHT just be time to get some NEW material! ,,,,,,,but I digress,,,,,,,,anyways, as I was saying,,,,,,,ahem “3 term president of the moron club right here!” that’s me.

Not that all things he and my mother passed on to me were bad by any stretch of the imagination. Making me do things over and over until I made the effort to do them RIGHT has certainly rubbed off on me. Now I DESPISE doing anything more than once. Therefore, if I am going to bother doing it, I take the time to do it right or at least try.

My mom had/has the patience of a Saint. Raising 8 of her own, along with my 4 step brothers and sisters hell she must have. She would take us kids ‘pushing her buttons’ forever and a day. However, when we dared to push them for forever a day and one second…….look out cause all hell was going to break loose. Nothing wrong with that at all. Even Mount St. Helens explodes once in a while. Especially after countless hours of “will you stop touching me and Mom tell Jack to stop picking on me!" I like to think I am the same way.

What kind of things that you SWORE you would never do, do(not gonna do it ,,,,not gonna do it,,,,,but I am not going to reword it either) you find yourself doing now on a regular basis? Does it irk you to catch yourself doing it or make you laugh? For me the answer is C, all the above. It both irks the heck out of me and yet makes me laugh at myself at the same time.

Okay it is 3 am........Not to say that I am tired but the little word verification comment thingy? It doesn't look crooked so that can not be a good thing. I so have to get to bed, before 'the time' wakes me up in the morning. Night all