Ten Dollar Shirt

It makes giving cash more special

six and two thirds (give or take)

So, I spent that hundred bucks at Amazon and got:
Order Grand Total: $6.66

and in honor of Ray I left it at that.

"He was a good president."

"You're just saying that because he didn't get shot, didn't give away any Panama Canals, didn't get indicted, didn't get us into any wars..."

"I just heard it on the radio. They said he was a good president."

"What are they going to say? That he was a rat bastard? Of course they were going to say nice things."

...

Whenever I joke about my drinking, I most always make a gin reference - refer to the alcohol as gin even when it isn't. It just seems to make things funnier; whiskey is a close second which in turn is followed by the generic booze.

I got a hundred dollars to spend at amazon.

I have an urge to buy things that I normally wouldn't, like poetry books. I sometimes have an urge to see other things even if they are things I have already seen.

So, I'm open to suggestions.

...

If I had my way the New Year would start in the Spring.

...

Sometimes, the suggestions suggested by Word really piss me off. (That's not true, they just irritate me a bit.)

...

Out of my stack of books I started reading "Gun, Germs and Steel" again. Sometimes, I'll put a book down for over a year and a half before I'll finish reading it.

...

I like reading the reviews on Amazon, some folks get so riled up, like the author is forcing them to get on board with some train of thought. I always read as the author is saying 'This could be true" not like it's absolute truth even if the author is saying outrightly that it is.

I'll hear most any sales pitch but that doesn't mean that I'll buy the product. I don't get all indignant at the sales person. I've heard some great salesmen and enjoyed their skill and never bought a thing.

Every author has a message, a point of view, a feeling to express. If you read, you're getting someone's side of the story, even if they are 'facts'. I remember when dinosaurs used to walk around dragging their tails until someone realized that there were no tailprints to go along with the footprints.

...

So, the public transportation system has changed the way you can pay for your fares which in turn changed the way I pay my fare. I no longer will get a monthly pass. I now have a card that gets renewed monthly. The new system has some advantages but I'll miss using the monthly pass as a bookmark. I used to leave the pass in the book once I was done reading it, kind of like an indication of when I read a book. (I rarely read more than a book a month.)

Those passes were very thin and durable and made excellent bookmarks. I don't know how I will ever survive.

before she left

The guy was being an asshole. She was handling the situation herself just fine, so I just watched. Eventually, he left but she was still fired up.

"...If he thinks that then he can suck on my left tit!' She said glaring out the door.

"Oh. I did not know that was an option," I said with a smile.

"Oh, it is," she said still angry, still glaring at the door but then she must have remembered she was among friends and laughed as she added "But for him, believe me when I say, it would not be enjoyable."

Don't waste too much time on assholes.

I don't like this guy

I believe him to be a phony and I don't mean a phony Ben Franklin. What I've witness him do is rude and petty.

And he doesn't look that much like Ben Franklin

insignificant - of no distinction

significant - expressing a meaning a significant wink

important - mattering much

gentleman - a man of gentle birth.

gentle - mild


http://www.epicurious.com/


I can't tell you the best day of my life because I can't reckon it and conversely I can't tell you my worst day for the same reason. I can guess at the best and worse times in general.


I keep to the median mostly but sometimes the scale will slide.


"Once, me and my buddy were working lots of overtime. We would be switching off each night, watching the work progress. One night I was parked on the median and I saw a van drive by and the door slid open and I could see someone inside as they continued up the street. The next morning I heard that someone was gunned down up the street."

That was the third time I had heard the story, only this time I noticed that the way he told it didn't make sense.

Back then there were no vans had sliding doors on the driver's side and if he was parked on the median, he could only see the driver's side. Second, from where he was parked to where the shooting took place is about three blocks which is close enough to hear gunfire, especially at night.

It could be that he noticed the door slide open by looking through the windows on the opposite side from the door but I don't think someone would be using a van with windows all around for a drive by. And it could also be that he didn't hear the gunfire because of construction noise but he should include all that in his story.

I have little doubt that he was in the area on the night of the shooting but I have my doubts that he noticed the shooters.

Her daughter was getting a puppy for Christmas so I offered my video camera. Before I handed it over I checked the tapes: there was the raw footage of me telling that joke, some of my niece, some of what Little g shot when she was visiting one day and some business stuff.

I should do more videos, is what I thought.

...

I got some books, all of which were history, like the history of salt and the cod fish.

"You used to read novels," my youngest sister said. We sometimes call this littlest sister Bookie (because she reads a lot).

"Yeah, but I got tired of caring about the characters."

"And you don't care about real people?"

"Nope."


I do care about real people just not about the real people I read about in books which is slightly odd because I do care about the fake people.


...

I recognized him. He used to be a regular. He was sitting at a table. He used to normally sit at the bar. He always gave off a weird vibe or at least I thought so.

Later, he moved for the table to the end of the bar where I normally sit. I quietly cursed my friends' decision on where to sit but I wasn't the first to get there so I sat were they sat.

She wasn't in a good mood and it only got worse when he sat close to where she rang up the orders. He was talking to her. She offered no reply. I could hear the conversation but I was watching the interaction, waiting for the moment when a line would be crossed, but she made no visible objections even when he got up and placed his hand on her hip, there wasn't even a hint of her pulling away.

"Hey, do you mind not touching her," Jen yelled over. He didn't acknowledge her. So she said "Take you hand off of her." The waitress just went about ringing up her order.

I waited, half hoping he wouldn't respond, I was pretty certain I could take the guy. I consider both the bartender and the waitress as friends and now it was quite obvious he was causing a problem. At that point in time, the situation had risen to 'being my business'.

But the guy removed his hand and retuned to the bar where he finished his beer and then left.

About an hour and half later I left and then returned with a box of chocolates and two hand dipped strawberries. I handed the box to the bartender and waited for the waitress to come by her station.

"Here. Merry Christmas," I said as I handed her the small bag.

She hugged me hard and said "I only like Jen, you and Danielle. I hate guys like that jerk." I wished I had done more as she still held the embrace. She didn't meet my gaze as she let me go and thanked me as grabbed three pints of cheap beer for table 23 and I was glad she didn't.

My world went quiet and in that stillness of the busy barroom I wished for heroic answers but all I got was silence which followed me out the door and up the street.

I was lying on my bed face up with my eyes open because when I closed them the room would spin. It was five o'clock. I think it was the oatmeal cookie martini's that had done me in.

The company party was a seven. I figured I would blow it off so I rolled over and passed out until eight. For some reason I checked my phone; I had two messages waiting and after listening to them I realized I had to go.

I had two cokes and a ginger ale and I stayed chatting folks up until midnight. When I was leaving someone said that we should grab some drinks sometime.

Be careful what you wish for – I get ballsy and mouthy but it's usually with a smile.

So, the bio page.

The 'so' is to get your attention and 'the bio page' is to clue you in to what's about to come. If you're ever just sitting around with me, you will eventually hear 'so.' The mind is always going and 'so' is like a warning buzzer that something is about to come spewing forth.

And I often will get side tracked.

I was asked if I wanted to be on the company bio page; I said no and I gave the same answer a few weeks later when I was asked again, but she told me that she would like me on it. She sent me for head shots and told me someone would be calling me for information. I took a deep breathe because there just isn't that much stuff on me that should go on a company bio page.

The guy called me. He has known me for over twenty years.

What's your educational background?
Technically, just a high school diploma.

Really?
Yup.

No other post high school stuff?
Nope.

How'd ya...Outside interests? Working on the house?
Yeah, basically. You see my life.

Do you read?
Actually I do.

Now you're more of a backroom - back office guy...What is it that you do?
See that's the thing, what does she want to say about me? I don't know.


Basically, he's going to make stuff up.

favorite saying: "You realize the deadline is tomorrow?"

interesting and or unknown and or uninteresting facts: I dream of making a living at creating toys, I blog, I like buying books more than I like reading, I can out drink most of my friends, I never drop before the flop, I've butchered a tune on a piano, a recorder, a fluteaphone, a squeeze box, harmonica, guitar, mandolin - but I can't play any of them.

hobbies: leather craft, woodworking, baking, cooking, silk screening, paper crafts, origami, fishing, shooting, fencing, gardening, photo taking, code writing, needlecraft (mostly to make fun of someone), rock climbing (before it was vogue), hiking, button making, buying books, reading books, buying musical instruments, leaving trailing commas,


(I just shoved a whole mini carrot cake muffin in my mouth. You gotta love that Christmas spirit)

So, I read the bio. My bio. The bio of fiction.

If anyone actually clicks on 'so' as a label and I find out about it, I'm just going to shake my head and maybe feel a twinge of guilt for actually having a 'so' label. I should have a best of label - the ones I like best.

Anyway, the bio - high quality BS with a touch of ridiculousness, I liked it, but I drew the line with me reading science fiction. I have read science fiction and I used to enjoy it but I just got tired of remembering all those made up names and places and devices - it's all just too much work for the precious little reading time I afford myself. Early on though that's basically all I read back when it was cool.

And also science fiction readers are freaks, so it had to go.

so maybe it isn't just the cheap beers

I've rarely ever came across a fork in the road. I've always been more like standing in a meadow; standing there with wings and a shovel.

They say a picture is worth a thousand words. I think that's a lot of wasted words. A good writer can paint a scene with a lot less and the scene will come with sounds and smells and tastes and feelings.




World's tallest man saves China dolphins


"All you've gotta do is reach in that dolphin and pull out any plastic that's in its stomach."

He's probably has had trouble fitting in. He's probably tried just to be normal. He probably still notices the stares. People probably avoid him until they need him to reach something down from the top shelve or out of a dolphin's gut.

He sometimes will hear the users say "Thanks" but most often he doesn't hear the word "freak" that follows.

He's a hero whenever he isn't a pariah.

He sometimes gets to walk through the front door but he always has to leave through the back.


Sometimes people are

Sometimes people just are

big deal

no deal

good deal

bad deal

a raw deal

shut up and deal

new deal

fair deal

what's the deal?

misdeal (Miss Erma Deal)

cut a deal

cop a deal



Yes, I was practicing my ampersands


I think the actual writing of an actual ampersand was more popular in olden days. I usually don't use ampersands while I'm writing, I'll use a plus sign or a poor man's version of an ampersand which is like a roundy small capital E with a small vertical line protruding from the middle top and the same descending from the middle bottom.


if you are bored nearly to tears someday, google the phrase 'how to draw an ampersand' you get a range of things from Cicero's slave to reciting the alphabet what you don't get is actually how one would go about hand drawing an ampersand.

Stop rolling your eyes at me. I know how to hand write a proper ampersand; I just wanted to see it. Just like I know all the words I look up in the dictionary; sometimes I just like to see it in print. And by 'all of the words,' I mean 98.6%. Or if you're using the metric system, my percentage drops to 37.

http://hypertextbook.com/facts/LenaWong.shtml


http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Body_temperature


Facts on the armpit (axilla) are hilariously serious over at wikipedia,

There were seven text files. I opened them all and then closed them one by one. They tired me. They worried me, not for what they said because they didn't say much of anything. They were all pretty much dead.

I wonder when I died.

...

Usually by now something would have clicked. Something would have come alone that would have caused me to reach that higher gear.

All my burners are of the back persuasion.

The trouble with friends that know you is that: they know you.

"Not everyone wants you to save them," she said.

I laughed. I had started to play it cool but she knew I was playing it cool and if she knew that then she knew my first reaction was going to be denial. She had effectively won that argument.

I look out for others mostly so I don't have to look out for myself.

"Sometimes, people just want a trusted pair of ears," she continued.

I just sipped my beer; now she was just being a nag. I calculated that the nearest fresh rose was just a block away.

The truth is...

Truth be told.

The truth be told...


Truth be told it is, because it's just a declaration that I'm about to speak. But now I forget what I was going to write.



"She's a whore." (Not a professional whore but a skank). The word dirty was added later. "I'll probably catch something from her just being this close to her," she said as she spanned the space between the bar and the back wall with her hand.

"As long as she doesn't pour my drinks from her snatch, I'm okay with it."

Years ago one of them came in, off duty, and bragged that in the just past twenty four hours that she had done it with two different guys and hadn't showered either.

She didn't pour from her snatch either so I was okay with that too. She didn't last too long, however.

who're - contraction of who are: Who're the people at the next table?

Never wonder that out loud to your paid date because it will end up costing you a lot of money, although it was quite a show.



Blogging will level off in 2007 is a prediction - predicted here.

Of course, as the old saying goes, predictions are hard, especially about the future.

I want to be like the guy who invented handling charges only a lot less of a prick.

See, like that sentence above. I'm certain most of everyone that reads that knows what I mean, but yet I will expound.

Nobody knows the guy who invented the premise of handling charges but yet there are likely very few people in the entire civilized world that he hasn't screwed over.

I don't want to screw the world over but I think it's kind of cool that some guy was sitting around one day thinking about how he could make an extra buck and ended up changing the world.

The conversation creating it went something like this, I think:

"It an okay product. We can get people to want it enough to pay us a profit. And we even have them pay for the postage for us to send it to them and not just the postage but the box and any packing material, and the label and packing tape as well. It's not a bad life," he would say to his co-worker.

"Yeah, that's rich that we get to charge our foolish faithful customers for all that postage stuff on top of our price. I can't believe there was a time when people didn't charge for shipping; it's so easy to rationalize - "We're in the manufacturing business not in the mailing business." Suckers. Too bad there wasn't someway we could charge them for sticking the damn thing into the box as well, but nobody is going to pay for that."

Then some evil grin was grinned, "Not unless you call it 'handling'".

It was a simple stroke of evil genius that everyone jumped on board with, business people and consumers alike.

The dude's grandkids would have bragged about him.

"Yeah, my grandfather invented a multibillion dollar facet of business just by labeling an everyday cost-of-doing-business task as something that could be assigned an arbitrary dollar value to. It like charging a fee to something that you picked up at a retail store just because it was available the day you walked in. "Yes sir, that coat is seventy eight dollars but it has been sitting on that coat hanger for three weeks, so there is an availability fee. It costs us a lot to make these items, that you want, available to you. The rent for this place doesn't pay itself you know. So, with the availability fee, the total is eighty six dollars.""

"Yeah, that's cool. I wish my grandfather invented the restocking fee on returns or something like that," the listener would say.

no hearts survived.


If I were smart I would just post things like "no hearts survived" and leave it at that.

I have a pot of gold and I use it to prop open the broken kitchen door.


metaphor

metaphorsight - most of Nostradamus' prophesies were metaphorsights


"It doesn't bode well for him," is what I thought and I know what all those words mean but I thought I'll have to look up the word 'bode.'

And I did

http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/bode

bided or bode - Who says bode for bided?

but then I read further and spied the word portend and I was like all "I need to use the word portend more."

What I like about the word portend is that everybody knows the meaning of it but nobody uses it so when you whip that sucker out, folks are all like "What a pompous ass" or "What a pretentious donkey" but they know exactly what you are saying.

Similar to the word pretentious. They are words which seemingly elevate the level of vocabulary used in a conversation but yet leave no one listening behind.

"And what do you portend to do about it?" Is a question that can really infuriate a drunk that just got in your face after you just indicated that he was not dissimilar to a pretentious donkey.

She called to ask me for a favor and then she asked me what was wrong. I really didn't have any answers for her other than that I was bored. I didn't elaborate that the boredom is with the whole of my life. She suggested a trip, I questioned "What's good leaving when you just return to all the same stuff."

She called me later to try to help me out. I said that normally I would have snapped out of it by now, and hoping and waiting was my plan of action.

It's actually something different than just hoping and waiting. Part of the plan is to do all those little things that I hate to do and have been putting off. I figure that I'm already lacking joy and that I might as well get things done that need to be done but I don't like doing.

She thinks I'm just getting old.

I watched the two groups saturating the normal tourist crowd: one group - high schoolers, the other ROTC. The high school students seemed to have an age of innocence. The ROTC seemed to have an air of confidence. Both groups were the same age.

I was pretty certain I could have fouled that air of confidence.

...


It's like working in the cube next to Rainman if he had turrets.

"Oh, boy."

"Sorry"

"God help us."

"Oh, damn it."

"Ahh, boy"

...

You tell everyone to look on the bright side yet you shout if from the dark side of the moon.

I listen to him because he drives me crazy. He's a deep bruise on my forearm that I just can't help poking.

He's a fine example of a little knowledge is a dangerous thing. It seems like he's trying to win friends by saying all that he knows, trouble is - what he says is untrue. He makes conclusions on half truths and soft facts.

His words are a rope and he has a habit of talking to noose makers.

He's that car wreck that you drive by slowly wishing not to see what you hope to see.


My quote of the day was:

Life is not holding a good hand; Life is playing a poor hand well.
- Danish proverb

I read that and thought "Mmmm, danish."


...

So, here's a story about how awesome I am. I try not to tell my stories of awesome for varied reasons, one being that most of them are truly unbelievable and would be deemed* works of fiction another reason is because it would soon get very old and repetitive unlike the tasty nuggets I usually leave.

I've heard that rabbit dropping come in two varieties: one that should be throw into the garden because rabbit turds are the best turds for the garden and the other kind is a kind that the rabbit can munch on later. I don't know if it's true, I only know that I've heard it somewhere. "Heard" could mean read, as well.

Anyway, back to my story of awesomeness.

I'm a bit gruff sometimes in the second office, it's kind of by design so folks don't bother me unless they really need to bother me. The query was made for a disk and the query went unanswered from the crowd then the query was made at me. I asked floppy or CD. I was told CD and then I showed off my cool tiny flash drive.

"I should get one of those." the query maker said, meaning a flash drive not particularly a tiny one. I agreed with her. I told her I had CD's in my office so she followed me upstairs.

Once upstairs, I closed the door and told her that these CD's were purchased by me, with my own money and that there would be a price to be paid. She asked about the price. I said it could only be paid in the absence of pants as I reached for my dictionary.

None of that paragraph above is true.

Once upstairs, I was deciding which type of writable CD to give her when I spied an unopened flash drive that I bought awhile ago but never used.

"Can your computer use a flash drive, now?"

"Yes, both the one downstairs and the one at home."

"Here, you can have this one but you won't be getting anything from me for Christmas if you take it," I said as I cut open the package and handed her the 512MB drive with the instructions.


*look up word deemed later and try not to be slightly disappointed with what's there.

my lover gets my diction up

So,

Sorry too many so's in a row.

Anyway, today crawled along. The only thing I had to do was to last until eleven thirty, that's it, just survive for three and a half hours. My boss was out and my supervisor was leaving the same time I was - bide my time, that's it for half a day, a short half.

So, you know I looked up he word bide and the indication was that the word is archaic. So then you know I looked up the word archaic.


I make love to the dictionary at least twice a week.


Sometimes I wonder: Where'd that come from? And other times I wonder: Is that a proper contraction?


I like the big unabridged versions, leather bound with that large sweeping curve of the spine with those decorative ridges and those thumb tab showing me right where what I desire hides. I love opening it wide and running my index finger down the column of bolded words lovingly showing the exact rhythm wished for. Sometimes, I'll stop and reverse the direction because I won't be done there, just yet. "Hey, can I look up a word?" I'll hear. I'll say "No, but I'll look it up for you." And I'll spread the hard bound covers apart to right where the choice word lies because I know those pages and they graciously submit to me. I'll read the word and then it's meaning followed by its use in a sentence. I will never look away as I say "Now go. Go! Please, just go."

So, the not all inclusive Christmas party is tomorrow at six thirty o'clock. I have scheduled to take half the day off.

The plan is to get lunch at eleven thirty o'clock, drink until dinner, drink at dinner, after dinner get a cappuccino at the best Italian bakery in the area, get more drinks if we can slip by the cover charge and fit back in to where I will have had lunch.

Which is rather similar to what happened last year, only this time if I run into Danielle during the cappuccino phase, I'm ditching my friends.

So, I thought "labels" or is it labels when your thinking in print?

Anyway,...

or "Labels"

So, anyway - labels, I thought 'so,' meaning I'll label all my posts that start off with so as so. So, I took a quick look and low and behold no so's.

hence this post

from the draft pile 07-05-05 3:44PM

she had a new hairdo

but i didn't say anything

until she complained a little about her day

"At least you have nice hair" I said

then she smiled and thanked me for noticing

- This is some of the stuff I save you from

My greatest claim to fame is that once I kicked Prince Charming in the nuts and it didn't go over too well with the ladies but to this day I contend he had it coming and I believe he dared me to do it.

Of course I heard that dare second hand from the troll that lives under the bridge.

I'm a vengeful bastard but my vengeance often gets tempered with pity so I just come off as being snide.

...

He is a poor communicator because he doesn't take time to know what the issue is.


...

His problem is he thinks everyone is an asshole but he thinks they will change. I know everyone is an asshole and I know they won't change.

...

So, we were talking at coffee about locations and describing those locations by the buildings at those locations and we were describing the buildings by what they used to be. One such building used to be a high school, so we started to talk about high schools. My supervisor and I went to the same high school. When he went there it was an all boys school and he started talking about what that was like and then he turned to me for a confirmation.

I told him that the high school was co-ed when I was there and that it had been for quite some time.

"Oh, I didn't know. '68 is when I graduated."

"I was two."


...

dumb clucks

...

I saw a two foot plastic penguin the other day and I started thinking:

Regina likes penguins



Radio likes ducks



xTx likes cocks

this ain't as cool as spitting dye at the back of your hand

January 18, 2007 will be my three year anniversary or maybe I've got the date wrong but sometime in the first month of the year oh-seven, I will have been posting for three years.

It looks very long in the archives list, which I should change back to just a monthly list.

Three years is a long blink of the eye. I thought I would have been done with blogs and blogging long by now. I never would have guessed that there would be this many posts authored by me.

Probably a fourth more posts never made it to the save button, they lived the life of static electricity. The cosmos would make no more distinction between those lost written words and some wool socked someone touching a doorknob.

These words will take just a moment longer to disappear. This form my survive but this medium will be lost. This medium has not the romance of a charcoal stick.

I was letting things get to me and it looked like I was going to let things get to me for quite some time so I removed myself from those things.

I went to a place I hadn't been to since my dad had died, twelve years prior. I was sitting on the dock watching the river roll by. "Like a River Glorious" was my father's favorite hymn, he liked the paradox of a river being perfect yet growing deeper and fuller.

I liked watching the river because of its quiet power, there were no rapids, no loud rushing water, just a silent force only truly noticed from within the river itself.

We used to fish here, mostly just sitting alone in our thoughts, together, even if one us was had crossed the bridge to the other side. His goal was always to catch fish. My goal was just always to fish. I've never really enjoyed eating fish, most likely because I was witness to the whole once-living-now-lunch process. I've never seen a cow butchered, nonetheless have done it myself. I'm quite certain I would be a vegetarian if I ever had to butcher my own meat.

He would use natural bait. I would use lures. We kept all the fish.

I had never seen him use a lure but I had some of his old ones. I only ever guessed at their ability to catch fish because I would never risk losing them. Dad wouldn't have cared if I lost a lure but I knew there would be few items that would be left behind him, so I treasured the lures. I never told him why I didn't use them.

My dad built his legacy on hearts and souls, both are rather fleeting mediums in the whole scheme of things.

I was sitting there trying to see fish, guessing where I would toss a lure if I had a pole when some old guy shouted from the bridge.

"The river runs on the hopes of raindrops."

I didn't know how to respond, mostly because I didn't know what he was getting at and partly because I thought it was an odd thing to yell at a stranger. He then joined me on the dock.

"You look familiar. What's your name?"

I told him my name with the same attitude as if playing a trump card. I was certain I didn't know him. He was quiet after I played my winning hand. But my victory was short lived because of something he said as he was walking away.

"You look a little like John but more like Cy."

When I first heard him speak my father's name, I reasoned that a lot of people have fathers that are named John. I was safe, my anonymity was intact but that was all blown away when he dropped that second name.

My grandfather's name was Lyman but his friends called him Cy. He died three years before I was born.

I chew chewing gum in work, mostly because I drink a lot of coffee and a lot of gin, and when I'm done chewing the chewing gum I'll wrap it in a small piece of paper and then throw it away.

I do this mostly because I'm drunk on gin and partly because the cleaning crew reuses the trash bags and if you throw gum away without wrapping it in something, chances are that the gum will stick to the trash bag. I don't like the looks or the thought of gum staying around in the trash bag.

I don't actually drink gin during work hours and I actually haven't had any gin since I've been drinking premium tequila.


So, walking back...

This is a brand new story.


So, walking back from lunch, I stopped in my regular coffee place and ordered my regular coffee. I only saw one girl working so I may have been slightly checking out her nicely shaped ass after she turned to pour the coffee when I heard someone say "Hello."

I looked up and passed the large coffee machine and noticed the regular girl who regularly takes my regular order for my regular coffee from my regular coffee place most regularly every day.

"I thought I recognized that voice."

I waved and smiled and maybe blushed a bit from embarrassment. She also has a nicely formed ass but I honestly just go there for the fine coffee.


...

So, for the volume label on my tiny flash drive I typed in "Tim Green" and I was like 'sweet' my name just fits and now every time I go looking for it, it's throwing me off. I see my name and I'm like "Hey, that's me" but I never associate it with being the tiny flash drive.

I really should give it a different name, and maybe toss a readme file on there just in case I loose it.


...

There have been times when I have had to inform people that I'm not magic, that the things I do require a certain amount of effort and usually a sizable amount of time.



....

I'm just one home away from being homeless.

Actually, that's not true. I'm sure I could get someone to put me up.

...

I frequently say "The truth is..." but the truth is when I say that you're not getting anymore truth than usual.

I like to think I'm pretty leveled headed. I also like to think that I have a lot of my default reactionary nature under control. I further thing that if I hadn't routinely witnessed people reacting poorly in certain situations, I would be just like them.

...

I don't know: guilt, maybe, but the odds are on pride.

I question fate's judgment.

I think fate is somewhat of a malleable thing. I think it's changeable but it's not exchangeable.

I think it's like a plot of land and a seed neither of which you get to choose.

...

I have no patience for folks that don't listen. If you can't listen, you can't learn.

If you want to see me crazy, just repeat what someone had just said to you quite incorrectly.

"No! That's not what he said" equals the start of crazy for me.

I have coffee with the guys nearly every morning. Most of us walk to the coffee shop together, although one of us routinely makes it there by himself. The place we purchase coffee is in a public building with little shops. Three of us were waiting third in line, we take turns buying, and the fourth member of our crew enters the building, sees the line, sees us and then proceeds to walk right through to the far side exit.

"What's up with him?" I was asked.

"He thinks this line is too long to wait in. He's not going to wait in line for coffee."

"You've got to be joking."

"No. I bet you that's his reason."

"Maybe he goes there to get his coffee a lot cheaper."

"Cheaper by what, a nickel?"

"Yeah, that's what I mean by a lot. That's a lot to him"


It turns out that he indeed didn't want to wait in line. He got a cup of coffee that wasn't as good and wasn't some funky flavor that he usually like to drink because he's a mental case.

I can understand not waiting in long lines but when the line isn't long and you're with friends whom you're talking with while you wait, you're a retard if you don't wait especially if you get an inferior product elsewhere.

Hello! There is a reason there is a line.

And that other place has no line because the coffee sucks.

How come words like rapscallion have lost favor in the modern world?



You probably could not care less about my tiny flash drive and I don't blame you. It's nothing that anybody with $35 can't obtain but this isn't really about the drive, it's about the stickers that they included with it.



I guess these stickers are to make it...

You know what? I haven't a clue what they were going for with these stickers. Maybe I could understand better if I were a Hello Kitty fan.


So, I really couldn't put off setting up the Christmas tree any longer. I was asked to do it five days prior and every time I got some time, something else got my time. Time was running out. I only set up the faux tree and set the lights; someone else decorates it.

She wasn't at home when I got there at about twelve on Saturday but her back door was unlocked so I let myself in, we're tight like that. I left my iPod else where and was kind of missing it and I was too lazy to turn on the sound system that was in the very same room. When the owner of the house came home she turned on the sound, and Lee Ann Womack started playing.

Lee Ann Womack is a bit hokey, I think. I wanted to question why I was being subjected to her music but the home's owner has caught me listening to that genre of music before, probably 40% of my CD's could fall into the Country category.

And I actually have the CD that was playing, so I just shut up and listened. After Lee Ann was Lee Ann, she was one repeat.

Shouting "My taste in music sucks! Turn this crap off," doesn't seem too bright.

After the repeat was removed Celine Dion came on; I left to get more lights.



How I imagine that meeting for the sticker went.

"Let's see. What can we do for stickers? Colored stripes, colored dots, a heart, a sun...'

"Oh, I know! Let's get funky and do a camouflage one. Oh, and a leopard print!"

"Good, good. We'll need some practical ones too, like icons of computers and folders and some with just solid colors, like yellow, green, pink and gray."

Now I know that gray actually matches well with purple, which so happens to be the color of my little flash drive but who's going to take the effort to remove the gray sticker from its backing and align in onto the flash drive?

You know what? All of those stickers suck. I shouldn't just pick on the gray one.


...I think I'll use the leopard print one.


I miss being able to use the word queer.



Using that leopard print sticker would be queer, and I don't mean gay.

I think I will make it my mission to bring back the word queer for queer's sake


This cushion has a queer odor.

That shellfish made my stomach feel queer.

He spends his day barking in the hallway. He's rather queer.



There is no such thing as self enforcing. Enforcement needs some force enforcing it, 'cause people are pricks.


So, my sister asked what I thought of Fergie.

"I like her singing especially when it's about her humps." I paused and the added "And her lovely lady lumps."

"Doesn't that make you feel like creepy saying things like that? Because it does me."

Then don't ask questions of which you may not like the answers.

But I do love saying things that make people uncomfortable.

She was hawking her wares on the home shopping network, this particular ware was a type of cleaner that would eliminate stains and odors, especially pet stains. It was the top of the hour so she was trying to hook her viewers into waiting for the change over.

"I've used this after parties and you won't believe the story I have to tell you about this."

"Unless it's some story about how that saved her rug after some partygoer peed on it, it won't be worth that buildup."

...

"Thrice did she sink adown." --Spenser.

company logo

It's a gimmick. I haven't quite worked it out yet.

If I start out with the gimmicky part first, I loose too much soul to finish.

In the book I have, that shows how to fold the orchard, it shows them in a tall glass vase. I figure have those glass vases at open houses.

Sometimes, folks are impressed with that stuff.

People like gimmicks.

when he plays the harmonica it sounds like his soul is passing gas

"The river runs on the hopes of the raindrops."

I overheard Emily mention cannolis so I asked her which she preferred and started naming the types. She told me the chocolate dipped with chocolate chips, regular ricotta type were "An orgasm in a box."

I noted that for future reference.

When bored I'll pop open Word and wait. I'll usually won't have to wait too long before the keys start to click. The backspace key gets the most action. Followed by the delete key.

Usually the difference between the backspace key and the delete key is the same difference between changing your mind and quitting.



If I had a chronicler I'm pretty sure I would read her work to make sure she was getting things right. I say 'she' because she would be some hot single chick who rides around on a winged fire breathing unicorn.

I would read over her shoulder, close enough to smell her hair, or look down her low cut blouse but I would never look because I would want her to think that I was something that I am not. I would fall in love with her.

She would only ever wear short pleated skirts that would follow the top half of the curve of her ass before they fell draped from her roundest extreme. Her hair would be longer than shoulder length so she could do that hair tossing thing that hot women do.

She would be within eleven years of my own age so I could defend against some of the 'you creep' statements. Most likely she would be brunette. (I think I just fell in love with the word brunetteness).

She would be smarter than me and regard me with a slight amount of pity. She would belong to some sort of chronicler's guild. I would be her writing project. She would constantly be telling me "Timmy, I'm just supposed to record. I'm not supposed to meddle." She would call me Timmy when talking to me but refer to me as Tim when talking about me because that's what all the hot chicks do.

She knew once she was done writing her project and went her way that it would break my heart. She would know I was trying to hide my brokenness and she would pretend I was successful at it. She would worry about the future me without the present her or at least someone like her.

She would know that when no one is looking, I tend to get lazy and worthless.

She would marvel at how tiny my flash drive was, because size does matters.

I thought it would be a simple thing after all we weren't very close; we only shared a casual thing maybe twice, most like the connection between a friend of a friend and oneself.

We never said too much to each other but I got used to her being around.

And then her schedule changed. The change was a benefit to her, I wished her well. I said "See ya around' even though I knew I wouldn't. I thought it would be easy because we never really talked; I hadn't noticed the comfort level I got when she was around. Even though I never needed her, she was there if I did, and it turns out that that is what I needed.

I could tell her that I miss her and she would inject herself into my life but I would be taking her away from others who do actually need her; I would be taking her away from herself.

So, I miss her quietly

but it's difficult

more difficult than I thought.

Sometimes, I want to talk to a human ear but often those human ears need explainations


To tell you the truth, its tinyness spooks me a bit, to such an extent that if I had gotten the 2GB one I would probably be home in bed right now.

five and a quarter inch floppy disk drive is all I'm saying.