Welcome to my little corner of the world, this is where I rant, rave, kvetch or wax on nostalgic about anything and anyone that crosses my path at that moment in time.
Sit down for a bit and read some. If you enjoy what you read, please pass the love on to others so that they may partake in the yummy goodness that lies here.

Tuesday, December 28, 2010


There again the scratching starts once more.  Continuously it goes unrelenting, never ceasing.  Three nights since it has started and for those three nights it has not ceased.  The first night I checked the door for the source of the noise to find nothing.  No marks, no signs of anything being there but after ending my search and after returning to what I was doing, it would begin again.  I check each time it starts, with each time finding nothing there.  I try to look beneath the door during the scratching to see what it could be but unable to see anything or the scratching would cease once I started to look momentarily.  I was thinking someone could be playing a joke on me so I check outside to see if anybody approach.  Look through all the possible windows to hopefully spot someone approaching, only to spot no one.  Several times I would stand at the door waiting for it to start, to be able to fling the door open to catch whatever could be there scratching.  Every time I would fling the door open, I would find nothing there.  Nothing.  Nobody running away, no animal scurrying off.  Nothing.  Yet it would begin again and again.  Continuing throughout the night, keeping me awake throughout the night.

The second night, more of the same.  I tried to ignore it at first, just go to bed and put it out of my mind but to no avail.  I would lie there focusing on the sound, focusing on it till I would continue to hear it even when it would stop.  I try to block out the sound with cotton in my ears, my hands, pillows, anything that could work but nothing did, the sound would just continue and just get louder.  It felt that it would get so loud that I could feel the sound as if something was lying on top of me scratching my skin.  As if the claws were digging into my skin at times.

The third night as I was sitting reading in my chair, trying to relax before bed, the scratching started once more.  It seemed more persistent, more determined to get in this night than the past two nights.  It sounded that it was much larger than the other nights with louder, deeper scratching.  I yelled at it to go away.  Banged on the door to make it go away, for it to stop.  It only persisted without relenting.  Not even my yelling or banging brought me any reprieve, I was forced to endure.  What could it be that would persist as such? I began to ponder.  Only a beast from Hell I surmised, trying to drive me to madness so it could then enter to drag me back to the Hell from which it came.

I began to imagine Hell. The demons with their horns, forked tongues and sharp teeth, all ready to torment any soul for the rest of eternity.  The fire and brimstone burning with an unimaginable heat that the flesh would catch afire but not be consumed by it.  There would be no reprieve from the flame, it would continue to burn with a thousand suns.  Hearing the weeps and wails from all the other tortured souls that would be there filling my head with their pain laden cries.  The demons evil laughter and joyous cackles with the pain they unleash upon all the souls, helping to add to the cacophony of pain and sorrow from the tormented.

I began to weep as I imagine this horror.

I yell at the door, kick at it to scare away the Hell hound that is there.  It does not work. I grab my Bible and begin to pray, evoking the Lord Jesus, the Holy Spirit, Angels and all manners of Saints to bring me salvation from this monster that besieges me, yet it continues.  I retreat back to the farthest corner away from the door that I can.  I pull myself in as tight as I can, covering my ears to block out as much of that wretched noise that I possibly can.  The tears stream from my face from the desperation that I feel.  Once more I plead for it to end.

I awaken lying on my floor, light streaming from the windows emanating from the morning sun.  The scratching has ceased now that day has broken.  I am safe for now.  What about tonight?  Will it come back again? Will it succeed with its mission tonight?

I cannot endure another night of this.

Someone please help me.

I plead for rescue from this.


Wednesday, December 22, 2010


I was flipping through the channels the other night and happened to stop on HBOZ while Real Sex Extra: Pornucopia was airing.  This show is about the ins and outs of the porn industry told by the actors and actresses of said industry.

On this particular episode was a straight man that does gay porn.  Read it again for effect and let it sink in.

Reason he does gay porn while being straight is that it pays more money.  Lots more.  Like 3000-5000 dollars PER scene; as opposed to 300-500 for straight porn per scene.

Now I know some of you are not for homosexuality, that's fine.  I on the other hand, believe it they are happy, so be it.  Who is to meddle with another persons happiness? Not me is who.

But I do have a problem with this guy claiming to be straight while being in gay porn. (Yes.  I do see the double standard from the previous statement.)  I don't see how that is possible.  Maybe if you factor in feelings and it is just sex, sure that argument can be made but the people watching him won't know that.  Does the video box or credits have his name followed by parenthesis saying straight man?

This guy reminded me of another story on MTV Real Life that I ran across one time.  This episode was based on people working in the sex industry while they friends, family and loved ones did not know.  Again there was a man on there claiming heterosexuality while getting paid to do gay porn.  Reason stated: get paid more.

I know throughout our lives we pose as people we are not to others all the time.  We either do it out of embarrassment, scared of what others will think or just trying to hide something.  We say the wife is doing great when she is fighting cancer or the husband got a promotion when he lost his job, etc, etc.

Though in this case, I believe you honestly lose a bit of yourself with something like this.  I don't mean in a religious sense and they will go to Hell, as that is not what this is about but that you lose some humanity along the way.  This isn't some small little lie you are telling family or friends to save face, it is mis-selling yourself to the world.  The people that watch those videos see you as a gay man, not as Mr. Hetero with a girlfriend.  Even if they did, they probably scoff going, "he'll come out one day."  I wonder how much trouble it must be going out in public, being recognized by a gay male couple, being approached and asked to join?

I would imagine that happens to both straight and gay, male and female workers in the porn industry; being approached by a couple (gay or straight) and asked if they would like to join.  Would be like asking a celebrity you see for an autograph while they are in the restroom taking care of business.

Why be a poser?

Why not just be true to yourself and to the world as to who you really are?

Thursday, December 16, 2010

Twelve Days of Christmas

On the first day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
A partridge in a pear tree.

*sigh* Seems my true love must think I need to go on a diet.

On the second day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Two turtle doves,

Must be the new avian diet that is all the rage.

On the third day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Three French hens,

Yep, must be.

On the fourth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Four calling birds,

Most definitely.

On the fifth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Five golden rings,

But where is the one ring to rule them all?

On the sixth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Six geese a-laying,

Lazy geese. Or are these horny geese?

On the seventh day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Seven swans a-swimming,

Anybody want some birds, I have plenty.

On the eighth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Eight maids a-milking,

Oh? Heeeyyyyy!!!! I got some milking needing done. Hee Hee.

On the ninth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Nine ladies dancing,

YES!!! This is starting to look good. Where my dollars at?

On the tenth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Ten lords a-leaping,

What? Wait…where the dancing ladies go? BRING THEM BACK!!!!

On the eleventh day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Eleven pipers piping,

I’m all about music appreciation but you’d think my baby would have hired some talent.

On the twelfth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Twelve drummers drumming,

I’m getting a headache. Make it stop. Please.

Well, I have plenty of food, dancing ladies and music for a bachelor party, as well as lords for a bachelorette party. There is New Years coming up so looks like a kick ass party going on.

Side note: Since I own people, does that make me some sort of slave owner now? Am I gonna have marches and Jesse Jackson camping out on my yard?

I think I may have to re-think this ‘true love’ thing, seems my baby has set me up. Must be payback for forgetting her birthday.

Sunday, December 5, 2010

Letting Go


"Just do it."

"No one will care.  No one will notice your passing."

These are the thoughts that pass through Michael's head as he stands on the outside of the bridge railing.  It is unclear what has brought Michael to this point. He has a good job, friends that love him and God smiles down good fortune towards him continually.  Yet, on a bridge bracing against the cold December wind, Michael has come to the point to end his life.

"What are you waiting for?, The Voice chimes in.  "Are you scared? There is nothing to fear.  There is nothing at the end.  No pain, no more suffering, no more feeling lonely, no more.  Feel the wind across your face.  The exhilaration of the speed of the fall.  It is just but a small step towards freedom."

Michael leans out from the railing, closes his eyes and imagines the feel of the wind, the rush of the fall.  It excites him.  He starts to loosen his grip on the railing, to relax his body, to become one with the fall.  He envisions the nothing at the end.

At that moment a strong gust of wind hits Michael, jarring him from his dream, knocking him back into the railing.  Instinctively he clutches the railing, like a child clutching his Mommy when scared.  Doubt crosses Michael's mind as to this task he has taken upon.

"I can't do this", Michael speaks aloud to himself.  "What am I doing on this bridge? This is not the answer."

"Yes it is."  The Voice comes back coolly and reassuring.  "Think about all those that never invite you to all their good times.  How often are you the one to call them, to only find out about some party that you only get invited to at that moment? You are but an after thought to them, only to be called upon when they need something from you or when they need to unload on you the excitement of their life."

"No.  You lie.  My friends are not like that.  They will miss me."

"You sound so certain, but I hear the doubt in your voice.  You don't really believe the words you speak."


"You can.  You will.  Just lean out against the wind.  Then just let go.  Gravity will do the rest."

"I CAN'T", yelled Michael out into the howling wind.

"Don't be a chicken Mikey, you might like it.  Never know till you try."  The Voice goads with a melodic tone reminiscent of school age children in the playground.

Trembling from the cold and the fear of the unknown, Michael once again prepares himself to do the unthinkable, take his own life.  Once more he steadies himself against the wind that buffets him back to the bridge, nearly having to push against it at times.  Closing his eyes, Michael lets it all go in his mind, family, friends, work.  He starts to wonder how it feels to not feel.  Not to have to worry about anything ever again.  Not to have to pay bills.  Not have to be not noticed again.  He starts to wonder who might attend his funeral.  Which friends and co-workers will stand at the casket asking themselves, "Could I have done more?" A smile creeps across his face, a smug little smile of satisfaction of knowing that he will be the center of attention for once, even if it is his death that must bring it about.

The Voice smiles, if The Voice had a face to smile from.

As the smug satisfaction washes over Michael, a most fortunate thing happens, a vision of beauty enters his mind.  A girl; one whose name is Lunastaja.  She works at the coffee shop that Michael stops in at every morning.  Lunastaja always treats him well, but that is her job though, right? No. It is something more with him, there is a warmer smile, a brighter inflection in her voice.  She knows my name.  She remembers it from the first time I gave it to her.  That accounts for something?

Doubt begins to push out the satisfaction that was there earlier.  No longer sure of the nothing that awaits him, Michael doubts.  Faltering against the determination that was there earlier, The Voice intercedes.

"You know she does not love you nor have any sort of interest in you, especially of one in any sort of romantic sense.  Her niceness, is only because she is serving you, not from any interest.  What do you have to offer anyways? Utter boredom from the pitiful life you lead.  A sudden absence from your daily mornings would have no affect on her life, she would just move on towards the next guy, to be a smiling whore towards.  After all, she only wants your money, for you to tip her better.  Which you do like some love struck puppy dog.  Disgusting."

"Love? I don't love her."

"You're right, you don't, so why hesitate?"

"I don't know."

"So...let...go."  The Voice says tenderly.

With that, Michael let go.

Michael let go of the thought, of the feeling, of the desperation, of the feeling of having nothing.  Michael realized in an instant that he had things to live for.  His friends would miss his company; his co-workers would as well.  He may not be the most popular around, but he is always there for them and he shall continue to be.  As for Lunastaja, Michael will find out if that smile an brightness in her voice is just 'doing her job' or is there a genuine interest there.

He'll know tomorrow when he asks her out.

Sunday, November 28, 2010

I'm Sorry

"I'm sorry," is a phrase that that has become over used in our society these days. We use it for everything from a harmless bump into someone to hearing of a stranger's loss. It has come to verbalize our own inadequacies of not knowing what to say in those situations, so we say, "I'm sorry," as if we had some direct connection to the issue.

Even when we do have a direct connection, i.e. bumping into someone, the phrase is the wrong reply to the situation. Instead of offering an "I'm sorry," why not just say, "excuse me", or "pardon me" instead? Unless your bumping was so much of a jostle to the other person to cause them pain or knock them off balance, "I'm sorry" is unwarranted, since an "excuse me" or "pardon me" will suffice just as well.

As for the loss of someone else's job, other person, item, pet or whatever noun that fits; "I'm sorry" is just a shallow consolatory phrase. You had no hand in their termination, person passing, tv breaking, Fido dying or abduction by space aliens. If you did, then you have deeper issues and should seek some help as you definitely need it.

"I'm sorry" has become a shallow, meaningless, nothing of a phrase that we just use when do not have anything else to say. It is our at-the-ready apology that gets tossed out at any bad news that we hear to try to make the recipient feel better. Why not offer an "I apologize"? Seems a bit more heart felt than the other throw away one, doesn't it?

We tend to use "I'm sorry" more on loved ones, friends or people we have an interest in of a romantic variety as a way to apologize for our failings or mis-deeds. We only use it on strangers when there is an accident involved.


–adjective, -ri·er, -ri·est.
1. feeling regret, compunction, sympathy, pity, etc.: to be sorry to leave one's friends; to be sorry for a remark; to be sorry for someone in trouble.
2. regrettable or deplorable; unfortunate; tragic: a sorry situation; to come to a sorry end.
3. sorrowful, grieved, or sad: Was she sorry when her brother died?
4. associated with sorrow; suggestive of grief or suffering; melancholy; dismal.
5. wretched, poor, useless, or pitiful: a sorry horse.
6. (used interjectionally as a conventional apology or expression of regret): Sorry, you're misinformed. Did I bump you? Sorry.

Unless you wear your heart on your sleeve, you do not meet the definition of "sorry" when dealing with any situation that we currently use the phrase "I'm sorry."

You don't feel sorry when hearing about a friend's coffee maker breaking; you might if you are the one that broke it.

Sunday, November 21, 2010

Stress Relief

My heart beat at a deafening pace. The pressure inside my head felt as if it would cause it to explode. The stress was killing me but there was no way I could stop now. I was focused at the job at hand. I would see this through to the end.

Their life would end.

The struggle, the gasping for breathe would all but soon be over for them. Their life would slip from them. Their eyes would glass over staring out for help that will not come. In that instant, my heartbeat will slow, the stress of the moment will cease and I will be able to breathe once again.

This is my first kill. My first taking of another life. It was exhilarating. It was stressful. It was fun.

It was not something I had planned to do, no pre-planning, no stalking the perfect victim, no choosing the right spot. It was just a spur of the moment thing. A random act of violence as the papers would most likely say.

I was having a rather shitty day; my boss reprimanded me for not doing something that clearly was his responsibility but he needed an apt reason as to save face with his boss. I was forced to take an alternate route home, which added another hour to my already stressful commute.

So to take solace from this day, I decided to go to the park for a walk. Some fresh air, some sunshine and a little exercise are always good to relieve stress, right? Not at the park I went to it seems, as everyone there was too absorbed into their own little worlds of listening to their ipods, of working out, that they seemed to forget how to see beyond three feet in front of them or were unable to judge the speed they were traveling while on their bicycles or while running. Seemed as if I was invisible as almost every person out there nearly ran me over or bumped into me and with every instance, not one person would have the common courtesy to apologize or to say, "excuse me.”

What was to be a source of relaxation and stress relief became a source of just the opposite.

I just wanted to cry, to sit down on a bench and cry. To have a complete stranger ask me what was wrong, to put their arm around me, to afford me a hug to ease what was troubling me.

That did not happen. I sat on the park bench by myself, trying to relax, to take deep breathes to let all of it go; just to have a guy come up to me and ask me if I would move because his family liked to sit on that bench.

That was it; that was the last straw. I started to head home, only to be further accosted by the runners, the bikers and anyone else that felt it necessary to further piss me off. The finality came as a runner approached towards me and upon having to decide to pass me on the side that offered the entire road with a very wide berth as to pass without incident, he decided to pass on the other that only offered but a mere swath of free land that would only cause him to bump into me. Which he did and I managed to be able to push him as he did with enough force that it spun him around, off balance, causing him to falter on his step and crash into the bushes.

I being slightly ashamed at what I did went to the man to offer an apology as well as to offer a hand in helping him back up. What I received was an assault of expletives and threats, to which I fell upon him with ill intent as to end his life right then. I had no quarrel with the man other than an innocent bump as he passed while on a run but here I was with such hatred, with such a firm unbreakable grip on his throat, that any other person would be able to swear that man must have committed some sort of unforgivable grievance to warrant such an attack.

Once he was gone, I left him there in the bushes, just off the track. No one had seen our little bump or my aggressive reply or even yet still my vicious throttling of his person. I felt safe that my freedom would still be guaranteed with that knowledge.

Sunday, November 14, 2010

Losing Us

I wrote previously on how technology can help us find that one true love that is for us, rather than having to settle for something that is just right there. Which I believe wholeheartedly, but I believe that technology is destroying us as a peoples.

Anymore we are too connected to the internet via laptops, cell phone and tablet PCs. We over-share our lives to all of our ‘friends’ on Facebook, Twitter and MySpace. We forget about people till we see them post on those sites, then we hijack that status just to interject how we miss them, ignoring the whole point of their post that states how their house just burned down. We as a people have become too shallow towards our fellow man or woman. We only care about a quick 180 character response on how you are doing or feeling, not bothering to get to know anybody as a person or individual but just as a status that does only to cover the right then. Quick pleasantries have become the norm, not for reason of a busy life, but for the simple fact that we only care about ourselves rather than the person that is in front of us right then.

When out with significant others, friends or family, we check our phones constantly while in conversation for texts from someone else or Facebook updates; either from friends or to update our own. No longer can we just be in the moment without sharing with the world, a world that does not care unless you are talking about it.

We have become a ‘give it to me now’ instant gratification society, no wanting to wait for something. Patience has become an antiquated virtue to us and has become thought of as a weakness or of being slow. Move quick, go now, speak fast is the law of the land. A New York minute is the new standard of time that we all have incorporated into our lives.

The easy going carefree-ness of youth is being lost by our constant busy lives. Our own hurriedness that our children see becomes learned behavior for them. Children no longer imagine, they do not have time for such childish things; they are too busy absorbing someone else’s pre-packaged imagination while updating their own Facebook, Twitter and MySpace.

We are losing our humanity by keeping everyone at arms length but simultaneously letting everyone know what we are doing on a constant basis.

We have chosen this life.

We will lose ourselves if we continue down this path of self-absorbedness.

Monday, November 8, 2010

Ghost Story

Remember that movie The Frighteners with Michael J. Fox? You know the one where he could see dead people that were stuck between this world and the next? In other words, he could see ghosts.

Yeah, that's my life. Not the seeing ghosts part, but the being a ghost part. I'm not some sort of old ghost from the past of long ago that haunts old mansions, hotels and cemeteries but a new age ghost from this century. Kinda cool, huh? When I was alive, I saw The Frighteners, had a cell phone, drove a car, owned a computer, had a family and I died.

My actual death I do not remember but I believe it had to be sudden as I do not remember having been sick for a lengthy time as if having cancer or such. I imagine it was sudden; perhaps a car accident or plane crash or maybe something epic. Like driving a car on a bridge, being hit by a plane, getting knocked off and crashing into the icy water below. I mean EPIC. If it was something pathetic like having a heart attack while watching porn and jerking off, I would kill myself.

That is, if I weren't already dead.

I'm not sure how I died, all I remember is being at the funeral seeing friends and family paying their last respects with tearful mourning and wailing With some asking the eternal question, "Why God, why?" It was a sad, pathetic affair. Not the mourning part, but to see some just falling out as they did; I know I was all that and all, but please for the sake of dignity, compose yourself accordingly. I suppose that was the time I was to make amends, say my goodbyes and such. Which I did, just like the movies tell you so you can move on but obviously they lie.

I know, big shocker there.

After the funeral I just hung around the house for a bit watching my wife and kids grow up and move on without me. The hardest part was seeing my wife remarry a year later. I was a little bitter about that and lashed out some. Breaking their wedding picture and knocking him down the stairs; it was juvenile but felt good at the time. Seeing the fear on my wife and kids faces, as well as hearing my six year old tell her mother that, "Daddy is mad at you Mommy for marrying our new Daddy," made me stop and rethink what I was doing.

So I left.

The part about ghosts haunting places or people, I guess could be true for ghosts that can't let go, but I wasn't stuck to just haunt my house or family as I was able to leave after lashing out.

I went and explored the world, saw the pyramids, Great Wall, Tower of London and every other place that I had wanted to while I was living, but never got the chance to. I was always looking for fellow ghosts or spirits while I was traveling but never found any. Even going to places that were described as being haunted, I never saw any hauntings or spirits there.

It has been 30 years since my passing, my children are grown with little ones of their own, my wife is living happily with her second husband in Ft. Lauderdale living the good life.

I'm not sure what will happen in the future; if I'm destined to continue this wandering for eternity as my own personal Hell or if I'll move on when my true love passes on. I do know that not having anyone to talk to, communicate with, this loneliness, is what is the big suck.

If this is Hell, I thought I lived right. If this is purgatory, I hope God has mercy on my judgement; as this seems like Hell to me. If there is no God, then I pray for reincarnation so as to start anew and live the way I should.

Thursday, October 28, 2010


A friend posted on facebook earlier this week that after watching Glee, they were now wanting to watch The Rocky Horror Picture Show; which got me wanting to watch it as well. Now I've seen RHPS back around my time in high school; either while I was still there or shortly after graduating. When I saw it, me and some friends had rented it from either Blockbuster or Movie Gallery for the evening.

What do you do now if you want to watch a movie that is older than a new release that you just have to watch it now? You can no longer run to the local Blockbuster or Movie Gallery as they have all gone the way of the Dodo. RedBox only carries new releases, as well as the Blockbuster version; Netflix, you'll have to either wait for them to ship it to you or hope and pray that you can stream it live onto your Xbox, Wii, PS3 or computer but only if that movie is available through that venue. You could run to the nearest Wal-mart or any other place that sells movies and hope that they may actually have it for purchase.

There just doesn't seem to be any movie rental stores around anymore that you can rent an older movie for a couple of bucks for a couple of days.

How many times did you and some friends go to the local store to rent a movie, but had no idea at the time what it was that you were looking for? You just based your decision on either the cover art of the box, actors or the synopsis on the back; especially if the movie was one that wasn't all that popular or was a straight to DVD release.

Not to mention the animated films that you could watch without buying or sports related videos that you would never bother buying in the first place?

Tuesday, October 26, 2010


I'm at the gym last night on the medieval torture device aka an elliptical machine, doing an obscene amount of cardio as well as sweating in an obscene amount and on the tele I have the History channel playing. Almost always when I am at the gym, I watch the History channel while listening to my phone; I don't have an ipod or any other music device but my Droid works perfectly fine. Obviously if I am listening to music, I can't be listening to the tele, so I read it through the closed captioning but that is actually getting off the subject I want to go to.

It seems to me that the History channel has become nothing more than one giant reality tv channel. You have American Pickers, Pawn Stars, IRT (Ice Road Truckers), Swamp People, Ax Men, Chasing Mummies, Extreme Marksmen, UFO Hunters, Top Shot and Stan Lee's Superhumans. The only one of those shoes that would have some history to it, would be Chasing Mummies. All the others may have a little bit about history in them but for the most part they are just reality tv shows.

I know Americans aren't interested in history all that much these days and all we want is that instant gratification, either in a cheap laugh or a cheap bit of shock or scare but you'd think a channel such as the History channel would not be airing shows that don't have some sort value beyond that.

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Working Out

I've been going to the gym for some time now, about two years so far and I have yet to reach my goal of losing this gut.

Now, grant it, I am not the most faithful in going everyday like I want to; especially considering of having to switch gyms early this year to one that is a bit further out to drive. Plus I don't diet, so that is a negative on me. My reasoning for not dieting is that I just need to become more active as when I started this health kick five years ago, I weighed 250 lbs. I lost quite a bit just by knocking soda out of my diet and drinking mostly water. That alone along with riding a bike throughout the summer afternoons when I got off of work from my previous job helped me get down to 226-230 lbs.

When I moved out, I managed to get down to 216 at one point by working out on a weight machine and not eating as much. I gained a bit more back once I had to move again and starting eating more and working out less.

Now once I moved home, bad economy helped on that bit, I stopped working out all together and was going out to eat with a friend almost everyday and having soda with said meal. Now, let me tell you this, pizza and soda does not make a proper weight loss plan. No matter what anybody is trying to tell you. They are either trying to sell you pizza or comfort, both would be a safe bet.

So now we are here, in the present and I've been going more regularly but still not losing anything. I'm really not concerned with the weight, just this fat belly but I think the real problem is diet and the fact that I'm not really watching what I eat, just kinda how much I eat.

I am going to do this thing. Going to get down to wearing 36s in a loose fashion and perhaps even go smaller.

Sunday, October 10, 2010


"For me to be attracted to you, you have to be broken in some way." Bill said to Irene.

"Wh-What does that mean? You're saying that for you to be attracted to someone, that they must be flawed or as you put it, broken in some way?"

"In a nutshell, yes."

"That makes no sense. How can you base your idea of attraction towards someone based on their mental well being? Or does this 'broken' also include physical maladies?" Irene was taken aback by Bill's quite forward and sudden revelation; considering that they have been dating for the past two months and she was starting to feel that Bill could be the 'one'.

"Physically, you must meet certain criteria for me to even consider dating you; which you obviously do, but for us to stay together, you need to be mentally unstable so as I can fix you."

"Fix ME!?"

"Yes. Fix you."

"Ok. Ok. Wait." Irene stops to take a breath and compose herself before continuing, "Let me get this straight, for you to be attracted to someone, or to continue to be able to date me, they or I, need to be mentally unstable or broken, as you so eloquently put it, so that you can fix them or me, correct?"

"Correct." Bill said in his standard cool detached voice. The one that is generally void of any emotion.

"Alright, I'll play. So, what constitutes one being 'broken'?"

"Daddy issues; having been ruined by past relationships; having some sort of addiction, either by chemical means or through weak will power; been physically or mentally abused."

"Basically you want to date a stripper."

"Absolutely not. They're filthy. Not too mention the fact that many are whores. Have too many tattoos. As well as many have drug addictions and or babies."

"So babies are an absolute no? I clearly remember you saying that you wanted to have kids someday or was that a lie?"

"Not a lie. I just don't want to have to correct someone else's mistakes. I'd prefer to start with a clean slate as it were."

"Hmm. As it were." Irene repeated in a semi mocking tone. "So since I have a Daddy that was around and was a positive influence in my life; my past relationships ended on good terms and in fact I'm still friends with many of them; I am not addicted to nor have been addicted to drugs or alcohol; and since I have not been abused either mentally or physically by anybody, especially my Dadddy or ex-boyfriends, I am undateable. You really know how to make a girl feel special."

"I do try." Bill replied believing that was some sort of compliment Irene had bestowed upon him.

"You're a fucking bastard. You know that? You really are. I am glad that you reveal this to me now, before I get all caught up emotionally and you caused me to become 'broken' as you put it. Of all my ex's, you will be the one that I will hope to not run into ever again for as long as I live, as you are probably more fucked up then the girls you seek to 'fix'. In fact, I bet if you do meet the 'one' for you, that you will fall deeply in love and when you think she is yours, she leaves your fucking ass. Cause no woman that is messed up like you like, will be attracted to a guy like you. They will use you up and spit you out time and time again. While the entire time you keep thinking to yourself that they will come back to you since you've done so much for them. When in fact, they have just used your time, money and soul to wait till what they think they want comes around and they leave your sorry ass. Just as you thought you were doing to me, but I am not hurt about this, but saddened that you do not realize what you are losing...forever."

Sunday, October 3, 2010

Heads Up, 7 Up

Heads Up, 7 Up was a game that I remember playing in elementary school during the days of my youth while in class. This is not some game that I came up with to pass time but a game that the teacher would actually allow us to play in class.

The game went like this: seven students were picked to start, the rest of the class would then put their heads down with a thumb up, the 7 would walk around with each one putting one thumb down. When they were finished, the teacher would say, 'heads up, 7 up'. Which was when the seven that had their thumbs put down would stand up. At this time, those seven would get to try and pick whomever it was that put their thumb down; they only got one guess as to whom it was as it then would go to the next person. If you guessed right, you became a thumb downer; guess wrong, you sit down.

I almost never got chosen to start as one of the seven, but a few times I got my thumbed 'downed'. Which meant that I would get to stand to face the person that dared to put their dirty hands on me.

Which I could almost always do.

Not because of any kind of skill but because I cheated.

You can be shocked or whatever you like about that revelation but it was the way of the world at that time.

It was quite easy to do so. When you put your head down, you would cover your face, but peek off the side of the desk so as to see the floor. What this would accomplish is that if someone came to your desk to assault your thumb, you could hopefully catch a glimpse of their shoes or pants and be able to identify your assaillant. Which worked most of the time.

Now since I knew how to cheat to find out who touched me, I also knew how to avoid being spotted by other cheaters. Which was quite simple, when you would walk up to your target, instead of stopping at the side their head is at mostly, you go to the other side or you stop at the front and reach over or come at them from behind but return the way you came. May have taken longer for you to pick the person that you wanted, but to be one of the longest pickers was always a great feeling, it meant you were a much sneakier bastard than the other little shit heads.

Of course that cheating probably is the reason that anytime I cheat now, I lose.

Fucking karma.

Sunday, September 26, 2010

Thinking Space

I have a hard time coming up with ideas on the fly to fill up this space. I have ideas all the time, just seldom do those ideas and the computer or piece of paper coincide so as they can be captured. Who knows how many ideas, good or bad, I have lost that may have a good solid footing in my head, only to be lost to time or to something shiny on the ground.

Not anymore.

I have now in my possession a neat little app for my Droid called Thinking Space. What this app allows you to do is make a brain storming list on your phone that can end up looking like a flow chart. I had downloaded it a week or so ago, but only had been able to play with it just the other day. Almost immediately I started a list for writing ideas for this site, divided into two groups; 'fiction' and 'blogging'. (There may end up being more, but those two seemed the most logical at the time.)

At the moment there is two ideas for 'fiction' and three for 'blogging'. I'm not going to tell you what they are, since they may or may not end up making it to this prodigious spot. Though, I will tell you that this piece is not on the list, it actually came to fruition all on its own while I just happen to be at the computer.

Thinking Space

Sunday, September 19, 2010


The other night I go out with a few friends to a local club for the club's 26th birthday party. It was free cover with a invitation and free drinks till 10 pm. Unfortunately we did not make it before 10 pm, so no free drinks were consumed. We stayed there for a bit but left since partying with thousands was kinda lame that night as the place was filled with more sausage than an Oscar Meyer hot dog factory.

But the night did not end there. No sirree Bob.

We decided to go to one of the counties more upscale adult establishments.

That's right...a strip club.

There were some people there that night that my friend knew and were cool people. Cool, as in the one guy bought everyone drinks for the night and even breakfast afterward, but I am getting ahead of myself there.

Now, I have been to a strip club on occasion once or twice. Sometimes spending money I should not have and times spending no money at all. When I do buy; especially in the form of entertainment, I do not try and dicker the price down or get freebies from the ladies like a buddy of mine does, just doesn't seem right. I'm not buying a used car, just a dance.

So the money-man, decides to buy me a lap dance and for me to pick out a girl. I am a really picky person in this department, since you will be looking at the girl for a little bit of time and you do want one that can at least move. The group starts picking out girls, which puts me on the spot and forcing a decision that I am always incapable or ill-equipped to dealing with, so after a few being pointed out and nodded off, a striking specimen walks by, pointed out and I accept. Mostly I accept for the reason to end this quickly, the whole center of attention thing that I don't like and all, but she did catch my attention as she was olive skinned.

Now let me tell you this, I like certain features of a woman to be a certain way. I like redheads, olive skinned or pacific islander or latinas, pale blue eyes and for them to be proportionate in body, meaning a certain hip to breast ratio.

I did mention I'm picky, right?

For the few seconds I was able to check this girl, it was the skin color that caught me and forced my decision. She had another dance lined up so I had to wait for a little bit, which means I get some other dudes sloppy seconds of a sort. While waiting, I started thinking that she looked familiar.

Well, once we got to the back, we started talking. Standard stripper-client small talk before the next song. "From here? Go to school here? Age?" Were all asked and we both are about the same age; me 32, her 32 in Oct.; both went to the same high school and were both in band at the same time for two years.

Yep, I got a lap dance from a former classmate. Is that a faux pas?

Anyways, she is not your standard local stripper, with a bunch of tats, drug addiction; that I'm aware of or babies to feed nor working through college. Since she is a model, has some houses almost paid for and has several degrees from an Italian college that she paid cash to go to.

All for being a high school drop out.

While I have a Jeep that isn't working, a job that barely pays the bills in the winter and a bike.

Perhaps I should start stripping, seems to pay well.

Friday, September 17, 2010


My second home from home has been demolished this week. This was the home of my neighbors growing up, the place where I spent many an afternoon playing with their grand-daughter and grand-son. From playing hide and go seek, to old school Atari or watching afternoon cartoons after school, it was just always there.

I fell out of touch with them during high school as mom and myself moved out of the neighborhood and the grand-children moved back to their mother's to live after the grand-daughter had some trouble.

The grandmother sold the place about 10 years ago after her husband died and she moved off to Tenn. to live with one of her other daughters. The house fell under a rental company, had some renters through the past few years, but guess the place became too old to keep up with. It was an old trailer, about a triple wide in today's standards but as I was told years ago by the grandmother, that it was 'unfolded' when it was moved in. Not sure what that meant, but it did have a long silver line through the floor that I noticed when helping them put in new carpet.

Now it is just buried or slowly being burned off it seems.

It does make you realize how things aren't gonna be there forever, how that no matter how long it has been there, there will be a time when it will no longer be.

Friday, September 10, 2010

Momentum Lost

I have lost my momentum with this blog.

I vowed to update this thing at least once a week this year, some weeks I posted multiple times and others were just there. I have posted my unique views and commentary on current events, posted recollections of my own life experiences and lately, have posted fiction. Some of those posts have been well thought pieces that I felt were excellent writing; others, were thrown together half-assed to satiate my resolution to get something out once a week.

I know not whether this blog is read by those that visit it or just looked upon for a moment to only be passed by towards what was really being sought after. The only thing I know, is that I write this not necessarily for my fans or followers; though I appreciate each and every one of you, but I write this more for myself.

I created a quote that is on my personal facebook page that I truly believe.

"Creativity should be shared with the world, it should not be hidden from it; to keep something that has been created by one's own mind to one's own self, should be considered a sin against the world." -mindes

That quote helps me to remember that even though my writings my not be for everyone, that I have created it and thusly, it should be shared. To do so could be the one thing that empowers someone to take a stand, to share, to write, to believe that they themselves should not be afraid of their own unique.

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Weight Watchers

I'm a little fired up so be warned there may be language herein.

Read this first.Weight Watchers Bias.

Lynae Remondino looses a bunch of weight, sees and ad for a Weight Watchers trainer, applies but when asked about her BMI (body mass index), it is too high for her to be eligible to work for Weight Watchers.

The woman went from a size 24 to a size 12, lost 118 lbs., partly by using the Weight Watchers system. Applied for a training position within the company, that would not be a public position, but because she does not meet a certain 'mold', is out of the running.

Does Weight Watchers not realize that the BMI is bunk?

BMI was created by Adolphe Quetelet; a Belgian astronomer, mathematician, statistician and sociologist, to come up with the ideal weight for a person's height. This is achieved by taking the weight in kilograms divided by the square of the height in meters.

This of course does not measure one's health nor does it measure one's fat level. Just a ratio of your height to your weight. You can be 5'8" 225 lbs with a 10% body fat and be considered obese by this system. If you measure your body fat percentage though, you will be in the range of athlete.

Now, I'm not saying that Lynae Remondino has a high fat percentage but she may fall within the acceptable range or fitness range, but be obese within the BMI scale. Personally, I would rather be judged by my percentage of fat, rather than some scale created by a mathematician in the 1800s.

Overall, if you are unhappy with yourself, make a change; if you are happy, why bother?

Sunday, August 29, 2010


Will was born into your typical home, to your typical parents that loved him. Will’s parents, Ben and Ruth, owned a small farm in north Florida. It was your typical farm for the time with a modest house, barn and the typical livestock one would find on such a working farm. The acreage that the farm was on, was not of such an expanse that it needed several farm hands to manage, but was enough that Ben could manage, along with his wife, on his own. Ben and Ruth were able to eek out a small existence with the livestock they raised and the crops they harvested, enough to live off of, but not enough to become rich off of.

When Will was born, it was a great time of celebration for Ben and Ruth, after having been trying for so long to have a child of their own, they finally succeeded. Will’s early years were not with any great incident, there were the normal childhood mishaps but no major illness or accidents to mention. The only thing of note was that during a few days out of each month, Will would become a rather difficult child. Lashing out against his parents, abusing the farm animals and livestock, being a fussy, ill-tempered child generally during these few days. Ruth tried love and compassion to curb this behavior; while Ben tried a more disciplinarian approach, neither of which being of any such use to stop Will from acting out during this time. During the rest of the month, he was the perfect child; minding his parents, doing his chores and tended to the farm animals and livestock like a responsible, properly raised child.

When Will turned the age of ten, his distemper turned more violent during those monthly periods. First kicking the chickens around the yard to escalating to the point to where he pushed his mother to the floor. When Ben heard about this, he took Will to the woodshed and commenced to lash him with the belt till Ben had no more energy to bring the belt down upon his child. Will was not affected by the beating; it was just another lashing to him, nothing more.

Upon his twelfth birthday, Will’s monthly behavior mis-deeds once more took a turn for the worse. While in school, Will got into a fight with another boy, using his size and speed, took the boy down and commencing to pummel his face to an unrecognizable mess. The boy would survive the beating, but would never be the same again. Will was removed from the school by his parents to be homeschooled; this they thought would be for the best, Will would be able to help more around the farm and his father would be able to control him more easily and readily.

Fourteen saw the ebb of Will’s violent temper and actions. His parents thought that this was finally the point where they were making headway with their son; but what they did not know, was that Will had found another outlet for his violence. Granted, he still liked to kick the chickens in the yard and would disrespect his mother from time to time, but Ben’s belt would remind him that was a bad decision. Will’s newfound outlet was found in sneaking out of the house during the night to run through the woods with his nose through the air smelling all the scents that were present in the woods. Tracking down the sources of the scents and then trying to chase them down, till Will could run after them no more.

Sixteen bore no difference of temperament that anyone could notice from Will. Ben and Ruth were constantly pleased when month upon month would pass without much incident from their beloved son. No disrespect, no violence toward his mother or father and the livestock were, for the most part, safe. The chickens would still get a good kicking and chasing now and again, but that would be it. What was still to be discovered was Wills nightly forays out into the woods. By now, Will’s speed and endurance was like none anyone would have seen, if anyone had seen Will out in the woods on those nights that the woods were penetrated by the light of the full moon, those nights that Will could be found searching for his next chase.

By this time, Will had grown to be a full foot taller than his father, stronger than most men and faster than a jackrabbit. Which all of this combined together would worry his parents, but Will did have a deep respect and love for them, and would do nothing to ever harm them. The only time Will could be brought to disrespect his parents or too even possibly lash out at them physically, was during that period of three days each and every month.

One night while running through the woods, Will caught a smell that caused the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end. It was a smell that for some reason called to him, a smell that beckoned to him to discover it source. Following the smell through the woods, Will chased it for the next three hours till he came to the edge of the woods to the property of another farm. Cautiously, Will approached the farm while still following the smell, determined to find the source, no matter what. Coming around the edge of the farmhouse, he came to the chicken pen were fifteen chickens soundly slept. Opening the enclosure, he crept into with heightened senses to any sounds from the farmhouse that may alert him to the farmers’ possible awakening. Once inside the hen house, he was excited to be so close to these chickens, he wasn’t sure why he felt this way but he wanted to do something to these birds. Then without warning and without alarm, Will set out destroying each one of the chickens. First by just breaking the necks of a few, then slamming some against the coop itself, others he went about with such savagery that if one was to look in during the massacre, they would think they were looking at some animal rather than a fellow human being. By the time that Will had finished, all fifteen of the chickens had been slaughtered. The bodies lay on the nests, the floor with broken necks, bodies ripped in halves, heads bitten off and all for no other reason but for Will’s personal enjoyment.

When Will woke the next morning, he was only slightly aware of what he had done but thought that it had only been a dream and that he had not really done something so disturbing as kill someone else’s chickens. That would be madness; to possibly harm another farmer’s livelihood by destroying their livestock for no other reason but for the shear pleasure of taking its’ life, was against everything Will had been brought up to. Will had nothing against chickens or anything living for that matter, but those chickens were so right for the pickings.

Later that day, old man Johnstone came by to visit. He was clearly distraught, perhaps even more so than when his beloved wife Madeleine had passed on. His visit was not of pleasure, but a warning to Ben and Ruth that all of his chickens had been slaughtered during the night. Johnstone wasn’t sure how the animal managed to open the gate, but somehow it did with free reign on his chickens. When he was asked what kind of animal, he simply replied, “Wolf.” Upon hearing the utterance of the animal, Will was relieved and asked if there were any other tracks that were in the pen, of course there had not. This was even better, as somehow the wolf had managed to cover up Will’s tracks.

Since there was now a wolf in the area and on the loose, Will thought that he should be more careful in his nightly runs through the woods and decided to start carrying a knife with him; it might not be the best protection but it will be something in case a wolf decides to attack him. Besides, he is fast enough and strong enough, he could probably take the wolf head to head, Will reasoned to himself.

The first night when exiting the woods, Will noticed the knife lying on the ground and he thought, “how could he have lost the knife without knowing it since it was strapped to his side?” Picking the knife up, Will continued back to his house not thinking anymore of it.

Weeks turned into months with each passing new month bringing on new vicious attacks unto the neighboring farms by the lone wolf. The local farmers becoming more and more agitated with each new attack, spending countless sleepless nights standing guard over their livelihood, watching out for the lone wolf that has been causing so much fear and destruction but only to never be able to catch him in the act. During this time, Will had stopped going into the woods, except only on the full moons, since during those nights, he would be able to see much better and hopefully be able to see the animal and possibly able to thwart another attack on his neighbors or prevent an attack on his families farm.

One night, the wolf paid a visit to Will’s family’s farm, with the cost being a calf that had been left accidently out in the field from the day prior. From that point forward, Will would split, with his father, standing guard watching out for this dangerous animal throughout the nights. Between the both of them, they would split the nights in half, Ben taking the first half and Will taking the second half. One night, during the brightest full moon that anyone could remember, Will could not resist the urge to take off from his watch to go running through the woods. After all, the wolf had not been seen for over a month, so what would be the harm in taking off for a little bit? Once Will returned, he found out the harm of what leaving would be, the wolf had visited the farm and killed the chickens this night. How was he going to explain this to his father? Certainly he could not tell the truth, so he would tell him that he just fell asleep. Father would understand as there has been many a night that he has been asleep when Will has come to relieve him for the rest of the night.

Will’s father was not as understanding as he had hoped. Even though he had been asleep, there had been no attack, but while Will slept, the wolf attacked the hen house. How could he have been so irresponsible? How could he have let the family down during this time of need? Will had no answer for his father; he could only hang his head and walk away mired in his own guilt.

The next time the wolf was to be spotted, would be back at Johnstone’s farm where the old man was able to get a shot off but missing by just a hair. That shot only stopped the wolf. The animal did not run away like most, but just stood there and started to continue toward Johnstone’s barn. With another shot fired, Johnstone was able to hit the wolf. That shot would fell the beast. When the old man made to where the animal was lying, he made a gruesome discovery, the wolf was not there, but Will was; dead from a bullet from the old man’s rifle.

Sunday, August 22, 2010

Flip Flops

I'm done with them. Don't get me wrong, they are appreciated for what they are and where they are appropriate but I am tired of seeing them.


Nothing says beach bum like a pair of flops. If you're bumming it for the day on the beach, lake, creek or just having an easy day about the town, that's fine. If you're going out for the night, absolutely not.

If you are a guy; put on some shoes, no one wants to see your hobbit feet, your fucked up toes or whatever else you may have going on that is aesthetically displeasing.

If you are a woman; standard flat soled flops, just do not look good. No matter how dressed to the nines you are, wearing flat soled flops on a night out, will just ruin anything you have going on. Nothing looks sexier to a man than the curve of a womans foot that is set in something with a heel as that sets the tone for the legs and buttocks that we men are equally attracted to. No matter how bedazzled or bejeweled your flop is, it is still just a flop and thusly rather un-attractive. It may be ok for a lunch or casual dinner, but going out to a club or a higher end bar, a definite no-no.

Have some respect for yourself as well as your appearance by taking some forethought in your footwear when going out for the evening. Men, no flip flops, sandals or open footed anything. Women, if you must wear a flip flop, please choose one that has a heel that elevates you even slightly.

Monday, August 16, 2010

Growing Up

Dad never talked about my mother too much. Any questions I had, he answered with a short terse answer. Most everything I learned about her was from the people at Dad's work, who knew them from the time they met, to when they tied the knot.

Dad loved my mother very much; some say with every fiber of his being. He was always there for her, mo matter what.

When she became pregnant with me, Dad was ecstatic. He went out and bought everyone at the hotel that he and mother worked at cigars. He was the happiest man on the planet. When mother fell ill during labor, no one was prepared for what would come nor expecting it, mother passed away giving birth to me. Dad was lost for a bit after that I have been told. With no family to around to help to raise me and no money to afford daycare, Dad did the only thing that he could at the time, he took me to work.

Management was none too pleased with this to say the least. Dad heard it all, 'Work is no place for an infant', 'We do not have an employee daycare', 'How will you be able to work with a baby there all the time?' None of that mattered to Dad, he had no other choice. Everyday he would bring me in and set me beside his desk still strapped into the car seat. Sure my presence did become a distraction at times but Dad was not the only one I had an affect on, from the ladies at the front desk, to the housekeepers, everyone adored little ole me. Whenever Dad had to go off to a meeting, someone was always there to watch after me.

One time when I was about three, I caused quite a scare for the hotel for a couple of hours. Seemed Dad was busy getting some important work done and his employee that was around was off doing some other little project, so nobody noticed when I slipped away off to find my own adventure. My wandering took me to laundry where they were cleaning out the lint bins on the dryers and while no one was paying attention, I climbed in to hide. When Dad noticed I wasn't around, he was frantic to say the least. No one knew where I had gone nor had anyone noticed me during my walk. For two hours the hotel was turned upside down by everyone there. Never underestimate a father's resolve when searching for one of his own and don't get in his way. Every nook and cranny was searched, from my normal hiding places, to the least likely of spots. One thing was for certain, I was still in the back of the hotel and had not left out any doors to the outside as security had reviewed the video for Dad.

I wasn't discovered till one of the laundry ladies had heard a sneeze. Realizing that she was the only one in laundry, she commenced to looking around. I was apparently quite resolved in not being found as she was calling my name, not a peep would I make as the game was now afoot or at least to me it was. If it wasn't for another ill timed sneeze, my game may have gone on for a few more hours but alas, I was found; covered in head to to in lint. Dad was told I looked like some lint monster hiding underneath the dryer.

The General Manager was not amused with the loss of productivity that my absence and subsequent search had caused. Dad was told that if one more disruption like this occurred, that he would be forced to let Dad go. If Dad hadn't been such an outstanding employee, he would have been gone shortly after starting to bring me into work but management turned a blind eye, which caused him to be the envy of many of the employees that weren't as well liked by management.

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

Dough Bully

Read this: My Dough Girl.

Done? Good.

So a big corporation is protecting their trademark by telling the owner of this small cookie shop to cease and desist on using her unique name, stating that it too closely resembles Doughboy and that by her selling cookies as well as cookie dough, she may hurt their image.


First off, any person with half a brain will quickly realize that her shop called My Dough Girl is not any sort of representation of the cookie giant Pillsbury. She makes and sells gourmet cookies based on WW I pin ups from that era.

I see no connection what so ever. If I had ever heard of her little shop before seeing it on the interweb, I would have known instantly that she was NOT connected to Pillsbury. It really takes a stretch of the imagination to even try to make that connection.

Too bad for her, she is giving in without a fight, stating that it would be a financial burden that she could not endure or that she could possibly even win against the corporate lawyers.

Besides, if Pillsbury is so worried about brand image, they should worry about their own products instead of some small shop out of Utah.

Friday, July 30, 2010


This post is now in Techni-color 3-D. Please place your special glasses on now, thank you.

It seems that every new movie that comes out anymore is in 3-D. Ok, so not every movie but mostly the animated films and the action flicks. You get my point though.


Where was I?

Oh yeah.

So a lot of movies that are coming out these days are in 3-D, which doesn't bother me one bit. Except for the fact that many of them suck. I'm not saying the movie sucks, since I am not judging that but that the 3-D sucks. I have only seen a handful of 3-D movies so far; Up, Avatar and...um...shit, that's it. Ok, I've only seen TWO 3-D movies, both were done quite well in the 3-D department, as well as there stories were good as well.

Unfortunately, that isn't the case for all 3-D movies.

Clash of the Titans 3-D, was so bad in the 3-D department that it could make you sick. Shows how rushing something can go terribly wrong.

Despicable Me 3-D, I have heard, the 3-D was not as impressive as it should have or could have been. Really a shame considering this to be an animated film, but guess not all animations can be spectacular.

I'm surprised that some 2-D movies that are coming out aren't in 3-D. The Expendables, The Other Guys and Scott Pilgrim vs. The World are all 2-D. Guess the studios didn't want to go back and re-do the scenes to make them 3-D or that it would be no real good reason to make them 3-D.

Now Step Up 3-D, will probably be one of those movies that the 3-D will be the only thing that will be good with that movie, as the story itself will prove to be its undoing.

I'll be glad when all this 3-D hype comes to an end, grant it I do enjoy a good movie and if said movie warrants being in 3-D, then go right ahead and do it. I'll pay the extra sheckels to watch, but it better deliver or I will be a bit upset.

Sunday, July 25, 2010

No Regrets

"Uncle, will you have any regrets when you die?" asks the boy.

Uncle sits back in his chair for a moment to ponder the question before answering, "No. When I pass from this world, I will bear with me no regrets of anything that I have or have not done."

"Why is that Uncle? Are you happy with everything that you've done?"

"In this world what ever it is that I have done, I cannot undo, those things have come to pass. There is no reason to look back at them with a sense of second guessing for what I have done. Sure, there are some moments, that shortly after they were done, I wish I could redo or take back but in this world they are done."

"Don't you wish that you had married or have had kids, Uncle?"

"Of course, my boy, but that has not happened and I do not regret it."

"Why?" the boy asked quizzically.

"Well, there is a thought or theory out there that this Earth is not the only one out there, that there is multitude of Earths that exist. Some almost identical to this one and some so radically different, you or I wouldn't even recognize it. In many of these Earths there are identical versions of ourselves but they lead entirely different lives."

"How is that?"

"Well, whenever you are faced with a choice, there is an alternate you that at that exact moment, is facing that same choice. You will choose your path and the other you will choose the other. For every choice you make, another you chooses the opposite and another you will choose the opposite of that yous choices. But that doesn't just apply to just you, that applies to everyone and every possible thing that could have taken place or will possibly take place."

"So...there is a world that has a me, that likes my sister?"

"Hahaha. Yes! But, there is also a you in another world altogether different, that doesn't even have a sister or a world with a sister that doesn't have a you."

"But, how does that mean you have no regrets, Uncle?"

"Well, with me, that means that on some worlds I am married with a great number of little ones running about and on some, I am the greatest athlete in the world. With others, I am the most despicable person to ever live; hated by all that know me. With that knowledge, when the time comes for me to pass on, I will know that even though I may not have accomplished everything that I had wanted to, that somewhere else, there is a me that has done it with such magnificent splendor that people amaze at it."

"I like this you the best, Uncle. 'Cause it is the one that I have."

"Haha. As well for me boy, as well for me!"

Sunday, July 18, 2010


Behind two eyes I look out towards the world, with two ears that listen to every sound that is around and one voice that is trapped behind a mouth that cannot work.

Everyday I sit confined to a bed, unable to move, unable to communicate, unable to take care of myself. I am only able to see and hear what is going on all around me. From the birds singing their lovely songs outside, to the consistent drips from a faucet, I am all but an observer looking out through two windows unto a world that I cannot be a part of.

Daily I have a visitor that tends to me. She is not my wife, as I have not ever married; she is not my mother, as she died many years before; nor is she any other woman that I can recollect to having been in my life. Her name is Alice and she is my caregiver.

Alice visits me daily with an upbeat, cheerful tone in her voice. She talks to me as if I am able to talk back and at times replies to me as though I have said something relevant to what she had been discussing at the time. She goes about her business of giving care to me with feeding, washing, checking my signs but most important, she is there so I can listen to her.

I am not sure what has caused me to be confined to this prison of flesh and bone or what benefactor it is that pays for my care; if there is even a benefactor. I do not know who I am or what I did before this, I cannot even remember how long I have been in this condition. Do I have family that pays for this or is it I that is able to pay through whatever means that were obtained before this period of my life?

I shall probably never know of this as it seems that I may never know more than this bed and Alice for the rest of my life. No doctor ever visits, no other nurses, just Alice.

Alice is such an easy name, it would roll off of the tongue; if I were able to be able to use that. It is a name that could be easily whispered with little movement of ones mouth or even much breath. It is not obtuse or hampered by the impedance of any hard syllables, it is soft like a cotton ball with no sharpness to it. I believe that all names of caregivers should be of such a nature, with such softness and ease of sound so if by some way the person being cared for could say it, it would be an easy thing.

Unfortunately for myself, I may never be able to whisper her soft name but if I am ever able to, I would do so with tears in my eyes.

Wednesday, July 14, 2010


I’ve been seeing this new commercial for the Dyson blade-less fan.  It has no blades, so there is no buffeting, just a continuous stream of air.

Dyson is the same guy that has re-invented the vacuum cleaner and the air hand dryer.

I also think of him as the biggest self-absorbed, contentious prick there is.


Watch his commercials and if you don’t think that by the end of them; that Dyson thinks that by re-inventing these items, he thinks of himself as God’s gift to re-invention or something.  He makes it sound that each re-invention is the absolute most fundamental thing and that it should have been discovered before now, but hasn’t till he came along.

Sorry Mr. Dyson if the rest of the world isn’t as super-brilliant as you are, some of have just recently evolved from knuckle dragging to walking upright, so pardon our lack of space age engineering that you so seem to have.  My apologizes, to you from myself and the rest of the evolutionary slackers that are abound.

I’m not knocking the actual products because I think of them to be quite brilliant and aesthetically pleasing, it is just that Dyson makes me not like them.  Not to mention, they are way too expensive for what they are. 400 dinero for a vacuum that doesn’t clog and 200 dinero for a 10-inch table fan that is better looking without any buffeting. 

Thanks, but no thanks. 

I will occasionally un-clog and change the bag on my current vacuum and deal with the buffeting from my old school fan.  Though, I never really noticed the buffeting from any fans and if I did, it didn’t bother me one bit.

Saturday, July 10, 2010

Interview With Bruce

Interview with a famous movie star.

Mindes: You’ve starred in quite the summer blockbuster back in your day, what was it like to make such a film?

Bruce: It was wonderful. Everyone involved was just wonderful to work with.

Mindes: In that movie you play a bloodthirsty serial killer that has no remorse for what you have done. Was it difficult to get into character for such an extreme roll?

Bruce: Not at all. I have always wanted to play such a role and when this part was offered to me, I had to take it. It was practically written for me, something I could sink my teeth into.

Mindes: In the opening scene it shows you taking your first victim, did you know that scene would be the one to set the tone for the movie and your part?

Bruce: You would have to be an idiot to not have seen it. I mean, from the way the scene read, I knew that this would be such a great opening scene, that would set the pace for the rest of the movie.

Mindes: What was it like working with Susan Backlinie in that opening scene?

Bruce: She was an absolute dream and one hell of a trooper with the many takes it took to get it down perfect.

Mindes: It has been documented that a fellow co-star was shocked and terrified at the brutality that was displayed in that scene once he saw it.

Bruce: Absolutely he was. Do you blame him? To watch this poor woman just going about her business and then in the shadows I stalk her waiting for that perfect moment to strike. Then when I do…BAM! Her struggling was what I believe to what put that scene over the top.

Mindes: It was. That particular scene scared the hell out of me when I first saw it. For years I was afraid of the dark just waiting for you to strike out of nowhere. Still gives me goose bumps.

Bruce: I get that all the time. From longtime fans to people just discovering this film for the first time.

Mindes: What was it like working with the late Roy Schneider as your nemesis?

Bruce: We didn’t have much screen time in the film, but what we did have was just classic.

Mindes: You’re referring to the one scene where you come out of nowhere to scare the bejesus out of him.

Bruce: Yes! I think I took a couple of years off of his life with that one.

Mindes: As with anyone that watches that scene.

Bruce: Hahaha. I agree.

Mindes: It’s been 15 years since the movies release, are you happy with the final result of the film and what has become what everyone calls a classic?

Bruce: Of course. While making the movie, we knew that it would be big but we had no idea how big. As far as thinking that in 15 years that it would be number 48 in AFI’s 100 Years…100 Movies, not at all. When making this movie or any movie for that matter, you don’t think beyond that moment to the future wondering where it will fall in the history of cinema, you just film for the moment and hope everyone that watches it falls in love with it.

Mindes: No truer words can be said. Well, that does it for our time together. I would like to thank Bruce for this interview and recollecting working with some great people during the filming of the 1975 thriller Jaws.

Bruce: You are quite welcome. It was my pleasure.

Wednesday, July 7, 2010


The past few days I have been in some pain, from mild discomfort to the type that can take your breathe away.  I have been racking my brain trying to figure out why I would be in this much pain and the only thing that I can figure out is that I have overdone it at the gym while working out.

I haven't become some sort of gym rat that goes every day to spend several hours there trying to build muscle upon muscle to impress the other gym rats but to go to try to get in shape and lose some flab.  I've been going for a bit and haven't really lost any weight nor have I slimmed down really any, so I decided to switch things up.

That, I believe, is where I have screwed up.  Before I was doing the elliptical medieval torture device without really any results, so I decided two weeks ago to start doing the treadmill like a rat in a wheel.  I do not run or I should say that I do not like to run so I don't.  So on the treadmill I mostly walk and have the thing set to random so it can alternate on the incline as it so pleases.  This leaves me free to decide how slow or fast I would like to walk and it seems that 3.7 mph, is the point that most likely causes my body to hurt the next few days after.

Now before my lower back had been hurting a little and it has been building to the point of much discomfort on the 4th.  Since that day, I haven't been to the gym, been walking like an old man and been eating over the counter pain pills, to no effect mind you.  Excedrin, Ibuprofen and Aleve have really done nothing to stop it, but has allowed that pain to ease a little.

Just a little.

Today I had to run to work to drop something off, get fitted for a tux and decided that since I wasn't in too much pain, I would go workout.

I feel this will be the dumbest mistake I have made thus far.

I had some discomfort starting out, which subsided and now as I type this, it is coming back.

Must've been a mix of pain pills and endorphins that was making me feel good.

Good thing I am off today and tomorrow, hopefully this will be done with by Friday.

Friday, July 2, 2010

4th of July

I may have said this in the past but I want to say it once more; I have nothing against religion.  Nothing at all.  I don't care if you bow to God, Buddha, the Great Spirit or a typewriter, just as long as you don't fuck it up for the rest of us.

What I mean by all of this?


I mean really.  Is it that hard for Sunday services and any other holiday celebration to be able to...share?  I think that was one of Jesus' tenets, but I could be wrong there and if I am, it should be.

Now what has gotten me fired up is that in my neck of the woods, there is the chance to see five fireworks displays in the area.  I know for certain that one of those 4th of July celebrations will be held on the 3rd of July with that towns parade and day long festivities following with their fireworks at night.  I believe that three other towns are also doing their fireworks displays on the 3rd as well.

This is like having your birthday as a child on a some other day for celebration just because some relative is off and it is more convenient for them; irregardless of what it is for anyone else.  This would be just cake and ice cream type celebrations, not any sort of party; just close family.

Now the 'big' city in the area; Panama City, was gonna have theirs on the 3rd like all the others, but they have now decided to change it back to the 4th where it should have been in the first place.

The only good thing about this; if you really want to call it a good thing, is that you can watch the fireworks at Panama City Beach, Grand Lagoon, Mexico Beach or Lynn Haven on the 3rd and then on the 4th, you can watch the big fireworks at Panama City.

Sunday, June 27, 2010


“Ever wonder where we would be if our lives had taken different paths instead of the ones that have lead us to this point? Where would we be instead of here, at this moment, at this place? Have you ever stopped to consider the possibilities?”

“No. I have not considered the possibilities.” came Stan’s response while strapped to the lawn chair.

“You really should entertain those thoughts, they could help you realize the err in your ways.”

“What errs? My life choices are those of my own, no one elses. Why should I reflect back upon the life that I have lead to try to pinpoint spots in my life that would have been better served if I had taken some other direction?”

“You say your life is without mistakes or without regret? That everything you have done has gone the way you have wanted to, without any surprises or failures?”

“I have made mistakes, I do have regrets. Everything has not gone the way I have wanted to. I have had failures, losses and tragedy but there is no way to go back to change any of it. The past is the past, only there to learn from and to reflect back upon, with the good and the bad.”

“So you would change nothing then?” inquired the man.

“Not at all. To change a regret, a mistake or a failure would change the person that I am today. Would mean removing an experience that I was able to learn from, to alter what I am.”

Stan is a father of two little girls, ages three and five, married to a beautiful woman for the past eight years, owns a house in the suburbs, works for as an attorney in a large firm downtown and has recently been abducted by a psychopath. He will not be missed for several days as his family is away visiting her parents; it is a three day weekend with the office closed and Stan stayed behind to do some extra work on an important case for a client.

Of all the inopportune times to be a workaholic, this is the worst time, Stan thought to himself as the man takes his life from him.

Friday, June 18, 2010

Sinking Down

A car crashes into an algae crusted pond late at night off of a lonely road.  Inside, a man sits at the wheel staring through the windshield as if locked into some sort of trance as the green water swirls up and around his feet.  In his mind, he thinks back to how he ended up plunging into a fetid pond, what actions lead him to this moment, what could he have done differently.

He remembers the party he was attending that his buddy was throwing for no particular reason but to throw one.

He remembers the booze…

“How much did I have to drink?” He thinks to himself while still seated in the drivers seat as the water is now up to his knees and still rising.

He arrived at the party late, not fashionably late since nothing about him is fashionable, but late since he was too busy trying to decide if he was going to make the party or not; even after he had told his buddy that indeed, he would be going and not to worry.  Once there he started to drink as was everyone else at the party but not to any sort of extreme, just in moderation.

“Something went wrong.  What was it that went terribly wrong?”

There were two drinks consumed.  Two drinks of the Jack and Coke variety.  Two Jack and Cokes that were more Jack than Coke.  Two very stout drinks that were consumed down his gullet.

That was eight hours ago, more than enough time for any drunk to have worn off, if any amount of drunk had even been achieved.  After all, it was only two drinks; two very stout drinks.

“That was it, wasn’t it?  Only two drinks?  Usually there is more, much, much more that is consumed in the course of the night.  Is it possible that during those eight hours that those two drinks was really four or five?  Were any shots taken?”

All he can remember is sitting there in the folding chair on the porch most of the night with everyone else.

“Is that right? Surely I didn’t sit there all night in that chair just being a bump on a log, could I? Was someone feeding me drinks?  Did I prepare all of my drinks, the two stout ones that I did have?”, still pondering as the water now reaches his crotch.

As time continues to pass further and further on, he continues to decipher the evening’s events.  Only to realize that he cannot remember the tiny details of the evening to be able to piece together any sort of proper timeline to be able to figure out what had gone wrong.

There was a new person there amongst the group; a new girl.  What was her name again?  Meredith?  Courtney?  No, wait; it was Angel, Angel Mareth.  A strikingly beautiful woman with long black raven hair, skin an olive complexion and a body that the world’s greatest models would sell their souls to have.  Her parents surely named her aptly, for as it does seem that she was a creature sent from the Heavens to grace Earth.

He remembers chatting her up, she seemed friendly enough and more importantly interested.  He also remembers her offering to make a couple of his drinks; a couple more than the two stout ones that he thought were all that he had made on his own.

“Could she have done something to those drinks?  Why would she do such a thing; that is, if she even did?”

At this point the water has reached his chest, with him still gripping the steering wheel and staring straight ahead, his eyes dancing wildly back and forth as if reading a newspaper very quickly.

He remembers just after saying his goodbyes to the group but just before getting into his car, she ran to him to personally wish him a safe trip with a memorable kiss.  A kiss that sent a chill through his body that caused the hairs on his arms to stand on end.  A kiss that was like no other that he had experienced before, a kiss for the ages.

The water has now reached his mouth and as he gasps for his next breath, his lungs are filled with the water.  He chokes and tries to spit out the putrid death that he has now inhaled, but it is an exercise in futility.  As he loses consciousness, all he can see is Angel.

Once he awakens, he is standing on the edge of the pond looking at the final gurgling bubbles coming from his still sinking car.  He looks to his side and there is Angel standing there, she smiles and extends her hand to him.  He takes it and they turn to walk down the dark road into the night.

Monday, June 14, 2010

BamaJam: 3

Morning of day three arrives with a clear sky, a clear head and me with a developing sunburn that will most likely develop into some sort of new diagnosis of skin cancer that has yet to be seen in the medical field.


Again the Hardee's pimps roll through, once more I buy biscuit sandwiches. Though this time I opt for the sausage ones, hoping that the grease from the sausage moistens the biscuits this time; which it so lovingly does.

There are some showers near the camp and considering the fact that sleeping in a tent isn't the coolest thing in the world, especially in early June, I need one. Now these are not some outdoor wooden crate showers but some deluxe mobile trailer private shower facilities. Sweet. Too bad that the mens shower is out of water when we get there. Some other guy informs me that, "water is on the way, in a few minutes."

Somehow a few minutes in Alabama translates to an hour if you follow any sort of regular time keeping like the rest of the world. Unfortunately I left before the water got there, walked back to camp, open car to check phone, to see that it is ringing and it is my friend informing me that the water has arrived.

I walk back to the showers to find they are filled and I have to wait a minute before one becomes available. Now the purpose of the shower is to cool you off, get some stink off of you and some of the excess grime that may have accumulated from the day before so that when you finish, you can start sweating once more as you towel off and get dressed.

Once back to camp it is time to start drinking so the first beer of the day is opened. It is 9 or 10 am. If you don't start drinking in the morning, you can't say you've been drinking all day.

Now the day before we start off with 36 beers. Probably only drank four or six total; so that would leave 30 at the least for the last day. I was drinking one after the other; as well as my friend and when we finished, there was only one beer left on Sunday. I'm not sure how the split went, but that is a lot of beer for two people.

Of course I wasn't drunk enough and made a mix drink. Half Jim Beam Rye and half coke.

I consumed said drink.

I made a second.

Now this is where things get fuzzy. I remember making second drink; my friend confirms this, I do not remember consuming second drink.

We leave to catch the bus to ride to the concert, make it on a bus and I start talking and do not stop for the next couple of hours.

Murphy has arrived.

Once being molested by the security checking for knives and such, we make it in and get a spot. We watch a few people, I try my hand at picture taking...drunk. Which equates to only one pic of the whole weekend that I have.

Shows why stand alone cameras are still being made as opposed to everyone just using their cell phones.

We make our way to a spot, set up the chairs, drink some more and watch somebody play. Now I am too far gone at this point to even know who is playing, let alone care.

At some point it starts to rain, drizzle, sprinkle and we grab our stuff and head to this big pavilion to wait it out. I remember fiddling with a fan that was off. We left at some point to head back to camp. I have been told that we walked back, I remember none of this. Once back to the camp, we eat and I believe some more beers are consumed, then we go back.

I remember hearing Gretchen Wilson, Travis Tritt, Buddy Guy on that night...after them who knows.

I made it out without any bruises, cuts, scrapes, fights or threats on my life. I was told that I was freakin' hysterical...which I like hearing; too bad Murphy doesn't stay out all the time.

On Sunday when packing up to leave, noticed the sorority girls truck was missing. Now that can mean one of two things, 1) they got busted for the third night in a row or 2) they met some people and hooked up. I would hope that it would be no. 2 but knowing there luck, their 'hook up' ends up being a 'knocked up'.

I did learn a valuable lesson, the car does not like long trips at all.

Last October on a trip to Georgia, a cv axle broke and this time the transmission decided to go out. At least this time the car went down after getting most of the way home...at least I was in PC...this time.


Thursday, June 10, 2010

BamaJam: II

Morning of the second day comes and it is good. It is Friday, my friend that will be joining me gets off at noon and will be on their way up shortly thereafter.

Hardee's is cruising the campground like a dealer looking for new clients at a playground, so I oblige them and purchase two bacon and cheese biscuits. I am not sure if it was my mouth that was too dry to commit to consuming them or the biscuits were, but it required me drinking two bottles of water to finish the task of choking them down.

Once Navy woke up and Bamas, I started hanging out at their area listening to their stories and having my ass parked on a cooler. Which was quite unfortunate for me since that was the cooler the beer was and anytime that someone needed one...I had to get up, but I was trying to stay in the shade so I forced myself not to be bothered by it all that much.

The spot next to me was empty the day before but the morning of the second day there was a truck and tent now there. The people that were occupying the spot were some sorority girls from Tallahassee. These poor girls had the worst luck the entire time there as it seems that on the first night they got busted for being underage. Now they did not have a "Drinking Age" armband and were hanging with some people that were drinking and ABC (Alabamas beer nazis) had them blow. Which they did and away they went. Seems one of them blew over and went to jail, the others got fines and court dates.

I left about 11 am to go get my friend and we made it back about 4 pm with two 18 packs of beer. We had a few of those beers that afternoon, but they were cool and no wheres near cold enough to cause instantaneous brain aneurysm; which is the way all beer should be served.

We went to hear some bands and came back after a little bit to get the chairs, then went back once more.

The second night and third night are kinda of a blank to me as to what really happened. Now I know what happened on the third night; well parts of it, but the second night I think it rained some...think being the operative word there.

That is it for day two. I know not as exciting as day one and day three most likely won't be near as exciting either, but you can be the judge of that.

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

BamaJam: Part Uno

If you have been reading my little dot on the www, then you've read this; which was a post about me counting down waiting for BamaJam to get here.

Well it did, I went and it was a freaking blast.

Now if you are not aware of what BamaJam is, let me tell you; it is a redneck Woodstock. Just to over simplify it for you. Truth of the matter, it is the best time one can have with over 100,000 of your closest friends...in a field.

Like last year, BamaJam had one main stage, that was mostly country acts and mostly bigger country acts at that; a secondary stage, that was some lesser or up and coming country acts or some acts that were more alternative; two smaller stages that were more local acts that you probably didn't care about anyways.

First day there I went up solo but was quickly invited to hangout with some local bamas and some Navy guys from Pensacola. After awhile some more people showed up to the group and after a bit more, we were invited to some flip cup by some more locals.

I'll tell you what, that was a close game of flip cup. My side nearly won with Navy and a Coastie on my side. Almost beating the locals...almost.

First night, stayed at second stage or stage B as it was listed to catch last bit of Dirty Dozen Brass Band, Robert Earl Keen, Marty Stuart and His Super Superlatives, and the Zach Brown Band.

During watching the bands, which were all quite good; I decided to start drinking. Now since I got there; besides playing flip cup, I had not had an alcoholic drink, so I got a beer. Then two. Then decided I wanted to eat so I walked back to camp made a sandwhich...then cracked open a bottle, taking a shot. Then drinking half a coke and topping with some rye whiskey and proceeded to walk back to the concerts.

Once back, I continued drinking, wandering around, drinking and then decided that I like free shit.

Now free shit is great. Everybody loves free, even if you have no use for it, you are most likely going to take it since it is...free.

There was a Camel Experience there. Which translates to free tobacco. I don't use tobacco in anyway shape or form but...I like...free.

I got kicked out of the Camel Experience.


Murphy...my alter drinking ego was taking control.

Now, if you have not been around me or shall I say when Murphy is in control...I talk...a lot. Some will say that I am funny or annoying but still entertaining. Problem with Murphy, is he says things that shouldn't be said. Like the fact that I do not use tobacco. Which means that even later when you say you were joking, doesn't count with the Camel people.

They asked me to leave.

The rest of the night was me wandering around, drinking and watching the rest of the bands till I got bored and went back to camp to bed.

That's it.