One of the games that we play on poker night is called "Screw Your Neighbor." Basically, the game is played not by trying to hold onto the highest card but by not being stuck with the lowest. You can trade your card to the person to your left but you run the chance of that person having an even lower card, if that happens you are pretty much screwed.
When we play this game, I always try to watch the card to my left, it's tough to watch the actual person discreetly, so I just watch the card as they look at it. If I haven't already looked at my card then I will do so. I usually stick with a seven or above and usually will pass anything lower unless I get a vibe that my neighbor has a worse card then me.
I don't know how this vibe works, I don't know if I actually see a 'tell' in how the person handles the card or what but four times I held onto a three and won, where if I had passed it I would have gotten an ace or a two and lost. Only once have a I lost, playing my vibe. I think I have spooked my friends a couple of times by announcing my vibes and then watching them play out.
I get vibes all the time. They are usually just little subtle feelings like, yes, no, good, bad, stop, go. They are the tiniest wisps of a thought.
I'll ask why and get no answer.
When I get these vibes I weigh the cost of the decision of going with the vibe or not.
The vibe is usually right but sometimes I guess wrong at what it's saying.
I had a vibe about a question that would eventually need to be asked. The vibe that I got was to "be careful". I closed out 2010 by finding out that the vibe was right but my guess at how to be careful was wrong.
Friday, December 31, 2010
I'm considering this a post for yesterday because today is still yesterday to me
I don't think it's going to be much of a post.
The post that would have gone here might have mentioned Morocco, stayed late, beer, dunkin donut gift cards, autocad, orange sweater, "Dude. I'm on the phone," and 1AM.
"You mean I get gifts just for making her happy?"
"Yup."
The post that would have gone here might have mentioned Morocco, stayed late, beer, dunkin donut gift cards, autocad, orange sweater, "Dude. I'm on the phone," and 1AM.
"You mean I get gifts just for making her happy?"
"Yup."
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
The Madness has a Method
There are some questions that I won’t ask until I can see you, until I can notice your reaction or at least feel it.
…
We went for coffee today; we hadn’t been for quite sometime.
We talked about the future.
We talked about the past.
We talked about how things are different and not necessarily better.
We talked about dying breeds and the last of our kind.
…
When we get back to the office Cash is still playing on iTunes and could be for sometime, there are 4 of my 17 CD’s on my work system.
I look down the list to the next rated songs, they are very easy to see because so very few songs are rated. The singer next rated is Kasey Chambers, two songs have a number of stars: Barricades and Brick Walls, and Not Pretty Enough. I click on Not Pretty Enough.
Her next rated song is from a different CD and is entitled Wayward Angel
…
12:36PM minus three time zones equals 9:36AM is what I was thinking at 12:36PM.
…
We went for coffee today; we hadn’t been for quite sometime.
We talked about the future.
We talked about the past.
We talked about how things are different and not necessarily better.
We talked about dying breeds and the last of our kind.
…
When we get back to the office Cash is still playing on iTunes and could be for sometime, there are 4 of my 17 CD’s on my work system.
I look down the list to the next rated songs, they are very easy to see because so very few songs are rated. The singer next rated is Kasey Chambers, two songs have a number of stars: Barricades and Brick Walls, and Not Pretty Enough. I click on Not Pretty Enough.
Her next rated song is from a different CD and is entitled Wayward Angel
…
12:36PM minus three time zones equals 9:36AM is what I was thinking at 12:36PM.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
5377
I have 5,377 songs on my iPod. According to iTunes, that's 14.1 full days of music, that's 338.4 hours of music; leaving eight hours for sleeping and eating that's 21.15 days of music which would be about three weeks of vacation days.
On January 1, 2011, I will have seven weeks worth of vacation days that I could use, I could go through my iPod twice.
On January 1, 2011, I will have seven weeks worth of vacation days that I could use, I could go through my iPod twice.
Take a deep breath
Take a deep breath.
I often like to spell breath incorrectly. I like it, like it was my job to spell it incorrectly, anyway, the guy’s a bit of an a-hole.
I want to reply to the guy very very much but the best thing to do it to be quiet. And you would figure being quiet would be very very easy for me but it’s not, not at this moment.
Take a deep breath.
(I usually will throw an ‘e’ at the end)
So, if I were to build a snowman midget. I would hard pack a tall pile of snow (tall in style as opposed to height) and then carve the little fella out of the pile.
But alas, I think it gets too dark at night for carving midgets by the time I get home.
Originally, when the plan was pictured in my head, he was in the front yard standing next to the dwarf Japanese maple tree but I think I would create him in the back yard because I don’t want any knocking, low on my front door.
"We like to be called little people!"
I often like to spell breath incorrectly. I like it, like it was my job to spell it incorrectly, anyway, the guy’s a bit of an a-hole.
I want to reply to the guy very very much but the best thing to do it to be quiet. And you would figure being quiet would be very very easy for me but it’s not, not at this moment.
Take a deep breath.
(I usually will throw an ‘e’ at the end)
So, if I were to build a snowman midget. I would hard pack a tall pile of snow (tall in style as opposed to height) and then carve the little fella out of the pile.
But alas, I think it gets too dark at night for carving midgets by the time I get home.
Originally, when the plan was pictured in my head, he was in the front yard standing next to the dwarf Japanese maple tree but I think I would create him in the back yard because I don’t want any knocking, low on my front door.
"We like to be called little people!"
I gotta run but...
I was working through my favorite songs last night and I think the one I like the best is from Sawyer Brown named All These Years it's written by Mac McAnally who also wrote Back Where I Come From which has a line like "We know who makes the Sun shine through and we know who makes the moonshine too". I think After All These Years has some great lines but it's not a very happy song.
All These Years
She likes adventure with security
And more than one man can provide
She planned adventure feeling sure that he
Would not be home 'till after five
He turned on the lights and turned them off again
And said the one thing he could say
All these years
Where have I been
Well I've been down the rode to work and home again
And I'm still here
Until I'm gone
Don't you rub it in too hard that I've been wrong
All these years
She said, "You're not the man you used to be"
He said, "Neither is this guy"
She said, "There's some things you refuse to see
But I guess sometimes so do I"
She made no excuse why she was lying there
She said the one thing she could say
All these years
What have I done
I made your supper and your daughter and your son
Still I'm here
And still confused
But I can finally see how much I stand to lose
All these years
I'm still here
And so confused
But I can finally see how much I stand to lose
All these years
All These Years
She likes adventure with security
And more than one man can provide
She planned adventure feeling sure that he
Would not be home 'till after five
He turned on the lights and turned them off again
And said the one thing he could say
All these years
Where have I been
Well I've been down the rode to work and home again
And I'm still here
Until I'm gone
Don't you rub it in too hard that I've been wrong
All these years
She said, "You're not the man you used to be"
He said, "Neither is this guy"
She said, "There's some things you refuse to see
But I guess sometimes so do I"
She made no excuse why she was lying there
She said the one thing she could say
All these years
What have I done
I made your supper and your daughter and your son
Still I'm here
And still confused
But I can finally see how much I stand to lose
All these years
I'm still here
And so confused
But I can finally see how much I stand to lose
All these years
Monday, December 27, 2010
Mostly
So, what I do is pick the thing I want to write about and write. I try to keep the tense the same but I know that I often don’t.
The story sort of floats in my head and only obtains structure when it exits my brain and it exits my brain at different times so sometimes I forget what tense I was writing in, when I do catch it, it try to fix it.
The way I write a story is to pick a point at where I want to finish and then I figure out a path back to where I am starting from. In my head the story is written in reverse which I then tell backwards, giving me a story that appears to run forward.
I try to pick the most direct line between the two points and if there is something not on that line that is important to the story or character development or just sort of cool, I will swing the story line out in that direction to pick it up and then drift it back to the ‘direct’ line.
If I stumble on a chance for alliteration or some other writing device, I will encourage it and blend it in but I will not force it. Sometimes, I will notice a pattern and try to follow through with it.
I try to let the story tell itself, I don’t try to be cleaver. I report the story as it was seen.
I refuse to conform (sometimes)
I look and by pure will summon a train. It's all about the layers.
But it is on the wrong set of tracks
Always a close call but so far no direct hits
This is just a vid of something that someone gave to me. I will probably change my opinion of you if you wait for it to download. It's just a dumb bear in a stupid Christmas shirt that lights up when you press here. As far as you know that green sign says, "Timothy Green"Editors Note: Actually, I just checked and it loads pretty quick so you ain't a stupid loser if you take a look at it.
Two Hours Late
The good thing is that I have time that I need to use or I’ll lose it. I used it to help a neighbor or two.
In the shower, I could feel which muscles were going to give me problems. I manhandle my snow thrower, instead of using the reverse gear I just drag it backwards.
I finished my normal get-ready-for-work routine and started my normal get-to-work routine. I passed one of my seventy year old neighbors, she was shoveling out her tenant’s car. She’s one of the neighbors I try to get to but she’s six houses away from me.
She was shoveling out her tenant’s car because his daughter might be taken to the hospital at any moment. My mind flashed with ideas. I wanted to help her. I was going to be two hours late as it was, I’m never really late anymore and I’ve never missed a day in fifteen years. Work is weird, they want you there just in case. I know that I will be doing nothing important, just like all of the snow emergencies of the past.
I tell myself that I have to go in, even if it’s stupid. I tell myself, “You can’t save the world,” which is a weak argument, that I don’t agree with, not that I think I can save the whole entire world, but I can make my neighbor’s world easier to get through.
My heart sank as I apologized that I couldn’t get to her. She told me that she knew that I always try. I told her that if I could get out of work that I would be back.
The neighbors that I did do: one is able bodied and the other has family that can help, I wished that my efforts will get paid forward to the seventy year old down the street.
Such is life.
In work, people come and see me, I get them laughing with my funny stories, an angry boss puts an end to it by calling the folks away from my cube. I think about my neighbor.
The folks in my house have nothing to do and in most of the years of us living there, they have had no need to lift a shovel.
I called the house. I said, ‘If you get bored…” and told them of our neighbor’s plight. They won’t get bored, but they will feel guilt if their charity doesn’t kick in first.
...
I told someone, that often I joke about having irresistible powers, but in truth I know that I do have some sort of powers, and I assured her that I try to only use my powers for good. She said, “No, not powers: sorcery.”
I smiled because maybe it is something a little more devious than just powers.
...
I always had a problem with the notion of verbal spells, I had a hard time believing that the mere speaking of certain words in a certain order could conjure up something but lately I’ve been thinking about all the things that were just thoughts in my head but came about soon after I spoke them.
I still don’t think that they could summon a dragon from the nether world but maybe small personal verbal spells work.
...
I got a call later.
“Is it the old Irish lady?”
“No. The old Irish lady is the one that had some guy with a machine doing it. It’s the one on our side about six doors up, past the condos they are trying to sell at 174, I think.”
“Okay. I think I know.”
And that is why the Timmy of Legend is sometime hated, he's a bit of a bastard but you have to love his style.
In the shower, I could feel which muscles were going to give me problems. I manhandle my snow thrower, instead of using the reverse gear I just drag it backwards.
I finished my normal get-ready-for-work routine and started my normal get-to-work routine. I passed one of my seventy year old neighbors, she was shoveling out her tenant’s car. She’s one of the neighbors I try to get to but she’s six houses away from me.
She was shoveling out her tenant’s car because his daughter might be taken to the hospital at any moment. My mind flashed with ideas. I wanted to help her. I was going to be two hours late as it was, I’m never really late anymore and I’ve never missed a day in fifteen years. Work is weird, they want you there just in case. I know that I will be doing nothing important, just like all of the snow emergencies of the past.
I tell myself that I have to go in, even if it’s stupid. I tell myself, “You can’t save the world,” which is a weak argument, that I don’t agree with, not that I think I can save the whole entire world, but I can make my neighbor’s world easier to get through.
My heart sank as I apologized that I couldn’t get to her. She told me that she knew that I always try. I told her that if I could get out of work that I would be back.
The neighbors that I did do: one is able bodied and the other has family that can help, I wished that my efforts will get paid forward to the seventy year old down the street.
Such is life.
In work, people come and see me, I get them laughing with my funny stories, an angry boss puts an end to it by calling the folks away from my cube. I think about my neighbor.
The folks in my house have nothing to do and in most of the years of us living there, they have had no need to lift a shovel.
I called the house. I said, ‘If you get bored…” and told them of our neighbor’s plight. They won’t get bored, but they will feel guilt if their charity doesn’t kick in first.
...
I told someone, that often I joke about having irresistible powers, but in truth I know that I do have some sort of powers, and I assured her that I try to only use my powers for good. She said, “No, not powers: sorcery.”
I smiled because maybe it is something a little more devious than just powers.
...
I always had a problem with the notion of verbal spells, I had a hard time believing that the mere speaking of certain words in a certain order could conjure up something but lately I’ve been thinking about all the things that were just thoughts in my head but came about soon after I spoke them.
I still don’t think that they could summon a dragon from the nether world but maybe small personal verbal spells work.
...
I got a call later.
“Is it the old Irish lady?”
“No. The old Irish lady is the one that had some guy with a machine doing it. It’s the one on our side about six doors up, past the condos they are trying to sell at 174, I think.”
“Okay. I think I know.”
And that is why the Timmy of Legend is sometime hated, he's a bit of a bastard but you have to love his style.
Free Free to Insert Your Own Title ________________________________
I checked the caller ID and I was surprised, I thought it was going to be from someone else.
“Hello.”
“Hey.”
“How are things?”
“Things are fine. Thanks for coming, when you don’t show up, they start asking, “Where’s Tim?””
“No. I liked being there.”
The day before, we were sitting at the end of four small pushed together tables, once we were all there, we numbered twelve. I was sitting at one of the ends, she was at my left. We were kind of quiet, her reason was she was a little hung-over, my reason was because I’m usually quiet. I respond to things, I don’t initiate. I’m a counter puncher and it’s an uneventful match if someone doesn’t make that first punch but I’ve never been afraid of the quiet.
I have been afraid of stillness which I called quiet but that was/is a different story.
I ordered pancakes, staying away from eggs because I know she doesn’t like eggs and I didn’t want to add to any of her already stated queasiness. She asked me what she could eat to help her get over the night before and offered suggestions which I either approved or disapproved. She ordered hashbrowns, crispy bacon and white toast.
“You alright?”
She has seen me when I wasn’t alright and recent events were typical of when I would normally not be alright but lately things haven’t been typical. I glanced over at her, to show her that my next words were going to be quite truthful, but she didn’t meet my gaze, she just scrolled through her emails, which might seem rude but she was scrolling so she didn’t have to look me in the eye. I smiled, lowered my gaze, and I truthfully said “Yeah. I’m alright.”
“I’m sorry about the other day. I was out the night before and I was on my period.”
“I know you’ve been busy.”
“How was it?”
“It was alright.” I said nodding my head so that ‘alright’ wouldn’t be interpreted as just so-so but somewhere in the range of ‘good’.
“It couldn’t have been too good without the life of the party,” she said as she dramatically tossed some hair over her left shoulder.
I smiled. “Yeah, it would have been better if you were there but it was nice. I set my mom up with Clara, got her a ginger ale and then I went to the kitchen and watched football, in that space off the kitchen.”
“Yeah, you would like that.”
I think it’s funny that I want to fix the dialog to more proper English but that’s the way the talk went.
“Hello.”
“Hey.”
“How are things?”
“Things are fine. Thanks for coming, when you don’t show up, they start asking, “Where’s Tim?””
“No. I liked being there.”
The day before, we were sitting at the end of four small pushed together tables, once we were all there, we numbered twelve. I was sitting at one of the ends, she was at my left. We were kind of quiet, her reason was she was a little hung-over, my reason was because I’m usually quiet. I respond to things, I don’t initiate. I’m a counter puncher and it’s an uneventful match if someone doesn’t make that first punch but I’ve never been afraid of the quiet.
I have been afraid of stillness which I called quiet but that was/is a different story.
I ordered pancakes, staying away from eggs because I know she doesn’t like eggs and I didn’t want to add to any of her already stated queasiness. She asked me what she could eat to help her get over the night before and offered suggestions which I either approved or disapproved. She ordered hashbrowns, crispy bacon and white toast.
“You alright?”
She has seen me when I wasn’t alright and recent events were typical of when I would normally not be alright but lately things haven’t been typical. I glanced over at her, to show her that my next words were going to be quite truthful, but she didn’t meet my gaze, she just scrolled through her emails, which might seem rude but she was scrolling so she didn’t have to look me in the eye. I smiled, lowered my gaze, and I truthfully said “Yeah. I’m alright.”
“I’m sorry about the other day. I was out the night before and I was on my period.”
“I know you’ve been busy.”
“How was it?”
“It was alright.” I said nodding my head so that ‘alright’ wouldn’t be interpreted as just so-so but somewhere in the range of ‘good’.
“It couldn’t have been too good without the life of the party,” she said as she dramatically tossed some hair over her left shoulder.
I smiled. “Yeah, it would have been better if you were there but it was nice. I set my mom up with Clara, got her a ginger ale and then I went to the kitchen and watched football, in that space off the kitchen.”
“Yeah, you would like that.”
I think it’s funny that I want to fix the dialog to more proper English but that’s the way the talk went.
Titles are for conformists
I am stuck here with my thumb up my ass
No punctuation right now because this is from my iPod
I like to people watch and when I see a couple I look girl boy then girl and then sometimes back to the boy
I do this because I am deciding on whether or not she can do better
Sometimes I get caught looking and then the dude will grab the arm of his companion and I will say to mysel relax dude I am not after her
Sometimes it is the she that does the reaching out and then I will be like relax honey I can do better than you
I do not want to be wasting my life-force in work today
No punctuation right now because this is from my iPod
I like to people watch and when I see a couple I look girl boy then girl and then sometimes back to the boy
I do this because I am deciding on whether or not she can do better
Sometimes I get caught looking and then the dude will grab the arm of his companion and I will say to mysel relax dude I am not after her
Sometimes it is the she that does the reaching out and then I will be like relax honey I can do better than you
I do not want to be wasting my life-force in work today
I kept telling myself, "Do Not Hate This Snow."
After I made a path down the drive and did my sidewalk. I calculated some time. I then texted my direct supervisor and told him that I would be late.
I could have just left for work, I did was I was obligated to do by city ordinance but I like helping out my neighbors and I also wanted to finish the drive.
I finished my drive and made a path from the drive to the front door.
I then did the two neighbors to my right. I usually do more but I figured I did enough. I still had to get to work because I'm essential.
Oh, well.
...
"The phone's for you."
"I'm coming."
Saturday, December 25, 2010
The Dymo is in the top drawer.
Talking to myself, I said, "I'm not certain that I would be friends with you."
In reply, I said, "I'm pretty certain that you are not. You are often a bit of a douche."
...
The last three or four times that I called her, I got no reply when one was required. I wondered if it was over. I don't know actually what it ever actually was but whatever it was seemed to have changed.
I called again today and I got an automated message that the phone was out, so I called another number that I had for her which got me to a voice mail messaging system. I left a message.
Time went by.
It was my understanding that we were going to meet in the morning.
The morning was nearly over.
It was out of my hands.
I went about other things.
Then I got a text, "sorry...were meeting there at 1:30...IHop". It's their family tradition to meet at this particular International House of Pancakes on Christmas; somewhere along the way, I had been invited and the one year I missed it: I guess it caused a scene.
So, then I wondered about those other messages. I wondered if they were ever received when I assumed that they were ignored.
Lately, I've been having to label a lot of things. Things that I've never labeled before because I never really had to define them. My relationship with her is one of those things.
We've known each other since high school. She says, "Your daughter," referring to her youngest child even though I'm certainly not her biological father. We've hung out together to the point were in some groups we're a couple but yet in other groups, the other of us is unknown. I have a set of keys to her house and a spare key to her car. We've traveled together to various parts of the world; we've shared a room but never a bed.
I guess her label would be 'friend'.
Thanks for listening.
In reply, I said, "I'm pretty certain that you are not. You are often a bit of a douche."
...
The last three or four times that I called her, I got no reply when one was required. I wondered if it was over. I don't know actually what it ever actually was but whatever it was seemed to have changed.
I called again today and I got an automated message that the phone was out, so I called another number that I had for her which got me to a voice mail messaging system. I left a message.
Time went by.
It was my understanding that we were going to meet in the morning.
The morning was nearly over.
It was out of my hands.
I went about other things.
Then I got a text, "sorry...were meeting there at 1:30...IHop". It's their family tradition to meet at this particular International House of Pancakes on Christmas; somewhere along the way, I had been invited and the one year I missed it: I guess it caused a scene.
So, then I wondered about those other messages. I wondered if they were ever received when I assumed that they were ignored.
Lately, I've been having to label a lot of things. Things that I've never labeled before because I never really had to define them. My relationship with her is one of those things.
We've known each other since high school. She says, "Your daughter," referring to her youngest child even though I'm certainly not her biological father. We've hung out together to the point were in some groups we're a couple but yet in other groups, the other of us is unknown. I have a set of keys to her house and a spare key to her car. We've traveled together to various parts of the world; we've shared a room but never a bed.
I guess her label would be 'friend'.
Thanks for listening.
Friday, December 24, 2010
I'm wonder-ful
I wonder
about friends
about loneliness
about waiting
about waiting
about not knowing
about time
about silence
The wonder is not for me.
about friends
about loneliness
about waiting
about waiting
about not knowing
about time
about silence
The wonder is not for me.
The nieces are here
I asked, "Why can't it be Be Nice to Your Uncle Day?"
The middle one said, "Naw, that doesn't really work for us."
Later the youngest handed me a small post-it note shirt and a thick red marker and said, "Here, color this."
So I did.
I asked her how she liked it.
"It's pretty good."
"Just pretty good?"
"Yeah, it's neat."
"Thank you."
The middle one said, "Naw, that doesn't really work for us."
Later the youngest handed me a small post-it note shirt and a thick red marker and said, "Here, color this."
So I did.
I asked her how she liked it.
"It's pretty good."
"Just pretty good?"
"Yeah, it's neat."
"Thank you."
Costco
We go to Costco maybe once every six weeks, there are probably seven aisles that we ever go down so when she grabbed the cart and headed down an aisle we never use, I asked what was up.
She gave a head nod to the young lady further down the aisle and said, "I just thought you would like to see your girlfriend again." She then said mockingly, "Oh, can I please have two? And as a reward I will shake my ass for you as I walk away."
We ran into the lady in the bottled water section, she had half pulled a case off of the stack and then seemed to be waiting while she finished her phone call. I didn't want to wait so I grabbed her case and said, 'Let me help you with that," and then tossed it into her cart. She then looked at me and said, "Could I get two please?" I just smiled at her and said, "Sure," instead of the "Are you fucking kidding me?" that I wanted to say. She did have a nice wiggle as she walked away.
I grab the side of the cart to stop it, she was still pushing it so it veered to in the right toward the center of the aisle before she stopped pushing altogether. We both watch as the young lady makes a right turn at the end of the aisle.
She then puts her hand on my lower back and says, "Don't worry, if you get hard I will take care of you when we get home."
I check to make sure we were alone in the aisle before I reach around with my left hand and grabbed her wrist from behind me and turn us both so that we were facing each other, I then step into her while I grab her throat, and push her back against the shelves. I bang her head against the metal more than I would have liked. She instinctively, grabs the hand on her throat.
It's taken me awhile to be this aggressive with a woman. I was always taught women are delicate and you should always handle them with utmost care. She has taught me that women are very not delicate and they like to feel a certain amount of force.
I know she will rub her head when she gets a chance, slightly tousling her long brunette locks.
Her eyes dart back and forth to make certain that no one else is still around, if there were she would give me a sign but I get no sign so I continue. I get close to her face and say quietly and right at her mouth, "You will take care of me whether or not I get hard."
I see her eyes flash and then feel her right leg move. She feels me to start to rotate my hips to protect myself from her rising knee. She says, "Don't worry." I do not worry.
In the past, she has brought her knee up hard and dropped me to the floor mostly to remind me that every time I take her, it's at her will. It's something that she allows. I'm pretty certain that I could take her in a boxing match but in a cage fight, she would probably kick my ass. She has that killer instinct that I don't and I know that if she ever stopped caring for me she would have no trouble snapping my neck.
She continues to carefully raise her leg and brushes my crotch. She then says, "It looks like we don't have to worry about the 'or not'."
She loosen her grip on my hand and I loosen my grip on her neck. I kiss her and she kisses me back. I let her loose and then kiss her redden throat. We are no longer alone. I take a step back and lean on the cart. She asks, "How's Mister Happy?" with a nod to my zipper. I answer, "Pretty much still at attention." She rubs the back of her head, tousling her hair.
I apologize for the bump. She just shrugs and says, "It's hit the headboard harder."
She's leaning against the vertical support with her hands behind her. I ask, "Did you get wet?" She slightly parts her legs and says, "Why don't you check?" I just shake my head, then look up the aisle at the old couple and then down the aisle at the young mother and her child. I look back at her and she lifts her eyebrow asking for an answer. I nod in the direction of the young mother and say, "I can't. You win."
She then leans forward so that only I will hear her. She pouts and says, "And my pussy loses."
She gave a head nod to the young lady further down the aisle and said, "I just thought you would like to see your girlfriend again." She then said mockingly, "Oh, can I please have two? And as a reward I will shake my ass for you as I walk away."
We ran into the lady in the bottled water section, she had half pulled a case off of the stack and then seemed to be waiting while she finished her phone call. I didn't want to wait so I grabbed her case and said, 'Let me help you with that," and then tossed it into her cart. She then looked at me and said, "Could I get two please?" I just smiled at her and said, "Sure," instead of the "Are you fucking kidding me?" that I wanted to say. She did have a nice wiggle as she walked away.
I grab the side of the cart to stop it, she was still pushing it so it veered to in the right toward the center of the aisle before she stopped pushing altogether. We both watch as the young lady makes a right turn at the end of the aisle.
She then puts her hand on my lower back and says, "Don't worry, if you get hard I will take care of you when we get home."
I check to make sure we were alone in the aisle before I reach around with my left hand and grabbed her wrist from behind me and turn us both so that we were facing each other, I then step into her while I grab her throat, and push her back against the shelves. I bang her head against the metal more than I would have liked. She instinctively, grabs the hand on her throat.
It's taken me awhile to be this aggressive with a woman. I was always taught women are delicate and you should always handle them with utmost care. She has taught me that women are very not delicate and they like to feel a certain amount of force.
I know she will rub her head when she gets a chance, slightly tousling her long brunette locks.
Her eyes dart back and forth to make certain that no one else is still around, if there were she would give me a sign but I get no sign so I continue. I get close to her face and say quietly and right at her mouth, "You will take care of me whether or not I get hard."
I see her eyes flash and then feel her right leg move. She feels me to start to rotate my hips to protect myself from her rising knee. She says, "Don't worry." I do not worry.
In the past, she has brought her knee up hard and dropped me to the floor mostly to remind me that every time I take her, it's at her will. It's something that she allows. I'm pretty certain that I could take her in a boxing match but in a cage fight, she would probably kick my ass. She has that killer instinct that I don't and I know that if she ever stopped caring for me she would have no trouble snapping my neck.
She continues to carefully raise her leg and brushes my crotch. She then says, "It looks like we don't have to worry about the 'or not'."
She loosen her grip on my hand and I loosen my grip on her neck. I kiss her and she kisses me back. I let her loose and then kiss her redden throat. We are no longer alone. I take a step back and lean on the cart. She asks, "How's Mister Happy?" with a nod to my zipper. I answer, "Pretty much still at attention." She rubs the back of her head, tousling her hair.
I apologize for the bump. She just shrugs and says, "It's hit the headboard harder."
She's leaning against the vertical support with her hands behind her. I ask, "Did you get wet?" She slightly parts her legs and says, "Why don't you check?" I just shake my head, then look up the aisle at the old couple and then down the aisle at the young mother and her child. I look back at her and she lifts her eyebrow asking for an answer. I nod in the direction of the young mother and say, "I can't. You win."
She then leans forward so that only I will hear her. She pouts and says, "And my pussy loses."
Thursday, December 23, 2010
the rewrite
So someone mentioned my eye doctor fantasy. So I tried to come clean and I said that there was no actual fantasizing and that she actually is not as beautify as I described. A lot of my stories are enhanced because I think I'm a boring dumb fuck although the rest of the entire world thinks I'm great except for the haters and those who are jealous of my rugged good looks and possibly the Jews (I'm not certain what their issue is with me but there seems to be one).
But I did confess that my heart may have fluttered a little when my eye doctor tenderly removed my glasses, carefully folded them and delicately placed them on the counter. Most doctors will tell you to take your own damn glasses off yourself and she was doing that too until the last time.
It seemed a little romantic.
That's when I said, "Doctor, please. I know it's tough. It's the eyes, I understand and you have to look right into them, but I like you just as a friend and there is possibly someone else."
And that's when she said, "What the fuck are you talking about? I took your damn glasses off because you looked like you were going to cry if I said another word to you."
I guess that was my mistake.
But I did confess that my heart may have fluttered a little when my eye doctor tenderly removed my glasses, carefully folded them and delicately placed them on the counter. Most doctors will tell you to take your own damn glasses off yourself and she was doing that too until the last time.
It seemed a little romantic.
That's when I said, "Doctor, please. I know it's tough. It's the eyes, I understand and you have to look right into them, but I like you just as a friend and there is possibly someone else."
And that's when she said, "What the fuck are you talking about? I took your damn glasses off because you looked like you were going to cry if I said another word to you."
I guess that was my mistake.
She’s married and has at least two children and seems quite happy with it.
One of the things she said was, “Your brain has forgotten how to see.”
That may sound rather profound.
“Timmy, your sadness has tired your soul and you’ve forgotten how to see things as they truly are…”
But she was my eye doctor and she was being literal.
They can determine your prescription by using an electronic device. I don’t know what the thing is called or even the principal of how it works but they have you look into this little window and they move a picture around until it comes into focus.
She then sat me down and moved that large mechanical device that comes to mind whenever someone thinks of the eye doctor and flipped and rotated the lens to my prescription. She then started asking, ‘This one or this one.” It got to a point where all my answers were neither. I told her I couldn’t even see that they were numbers or letters.
She said, “That’s not good.”
She did some other tests and told me that my eyes were very healthy.
“Your brain has forgotten how to see.”
“And if you were a child, it would stay that way.”
“But because you’re an adult, it will go back.”
My eye doctor is very beautiful. It’s a casual beauty; the kind that slowly seeps into your being when you’re in the vicinity. It’s like a slowly moving river, big and wide, that looks quite calm but it can carry your whole house away and there is not a damn thing that you can do about it.
I hadn’t been there since 2004. I was worried that she would be angry with all my bad behavior so I took a deep breath and summoned my charm. Not the charm that I can switch on and off, that’s a cheap version of what I needed. I needed the one that floats up from my core and I don’t actually summon it, I just open the gates and let it come forth. It’s a quiet, unspoken charm; it’s pure and honest; it has the same feel as the doctor’s beauty.
The problem is: sometimes it’s not at home.
But it was there today and it was potent. She smiled at me at least three times while I briefly answered her questions.
She gave me contact lens and my brain started to remember. I read the doctor the line on the chart second from the bottom. She smiled a smile of relief and of pleasure that she was able to help me.
She wants to see me in two weeks.
I'm not used to having to pay women to look into my eyes. Usually, they pay me.
That may sound rather profound.
“Timmy, your sadness has tired your soul and you’ve forgotten how to see things as they truly are…”
But she was my eye doctor and she was being literal.
They can determine your prescription by using an electronic device. I don’t know what the thing is called or even the principal of how it works but they have you look into this little window and they move a picture around until it comes into focus.
She then sat me down and moved that large mechanical device that comes to mind whenever someone thinks of the eye doctor and flipped and rotated the lens to my prescription. She then started asking, ‘This one or this one.” It got to a point where all my answers were neither. I told her I couldn’t even see that they were numbers or letters.
She said, “That’s not good.”
She did some other tests and told me that my eyes were very healthy.
“Your brain has forgotten how to see.”
Ho-ly Fuck!
“And if you were a child, it would stay that way.”
Fuck.
“But because you’re an adult, it will go back.”
Man.
My eye doctor is very beautiful. It’s a casual beauty; the kind that slowly seeps into your being when you’re in the vicinity. It’s like a slowly moving river, big and wide, that looks quite calm but it can carry your whole house away and there is not a damn thing that you can do about it.
I hadn’t been there since 2004. I was worried that she would be angry with all my bad behavior so I took a deep breath and summoned my charm. Not the charm that I can switch on and off, that’s a cheap version of what I needed. I needed the one that floats up from my core and I don’t actually summon it, I just open the gates and let it come forth. It’s a quiet, unspoken charm; it’s pure and honest; it has the same feel as the doctor’s beauty.
The problem is: sometimes it’s not at home.
But it was there today and it was potent. She smiled at me at least three times while I briefly answered her questions.
She gave me contact lens and my brain started to remember. I read the doctor the line on the chart second from the bottom. She smiled a smile of relief and of pleasure that she was able to help me.
She wants to see me in two weeks.
I'm not used to having to pay women to look into my eyes. Usually, they pay me.
You have to
Before the three Scotches there were two at the bar before the two at the bar there were three beers with dinner before the three beers with dinner there were four beers at a different bar and before the four beers at a different bar there was a beer at my buddy’s house.
I remember generously tipping the cab driver. I don’t remember lying down. I also remember turning the computer on because I wanted to send an email.
It was a very nice night despite all the alcohol. Some folks couldn’t make it so it was just us five.
While having drinks at the bar, we were discussing how we were all getting home and somehow it was decided that we would all go back to Joe’s house, so when someone’s daughter showed up with her friend all seven of us piled into her midsize car and drove eight blocks to Joe’s house.
Prior to sardining ourselves into the car, Joe called his wife and told her of the plan and said that she had seven minutes to clean the house.
Joe has two young kids and both he and his wife work fulltime jobs. I had been in his house earlier in the day and there were some clothes and stuff about in the way that happens when you actually live in a house but it wasn’t bad; by the time we walked in, the house looked in order but you could still feel the energy of the high alert that the household was just under.
We spent a few hours drinking and talking in his kitchen.
At one point his six year old daughter asked to use the recently acquired iPad. Joe was concerned that she would drop it, his wife thought that the daughters desire to write overshadowed his concerns. Joe relented.
While he was in the dining room hooking the keyboard up to it, I told Kathleen that I agreed with her.
“I was taking photos one day with my SLR,” I said as I pointed to the SLR digital camera on the table, “And my niece asked if she could take a photo and at first you wonder if you should just hand over your six hundred dollar camera to a five year old but you also want to encourage them.”
“So you hand them the camera. You gotta.”
“Yeah, you have to.”
(I wasn’t correcting her because I say gotta all the time because sometimes you just gotta use it. I was just agreeing)
I remember generously tipping the cab driver. I don’t remember lying down. I also remember turning the computer on because I wanted to send an email.
It was a very nice night despite all the alcohol. Some folks couldn’t make it so it was just us five.
While having drinks at the bar, we were discussing how we were all getting home and somehow it was decided that we would all go back to Joe’s house, so when someone’s daughter showed up with her friend all seven of us piled into her midsize car and drove eight blocks to Joe’s house.
Prior to sardining ourselves into the car, Joe called his wife and told her of the plan and said that she had seven minutes to clean the house.
Joe has two young kids and both he and his wife work fulltime jobs. I had been in his house earlier in the day and there were some clothes and stuff about in the way that happens when you actually live in a house but it wasn’t bad; by the time we walked in, the house looked in order but you could still feel the energy of the high alert that the household was just under.
We spent a few hours drinking and talking in his kitchen.
At one point his six year old daughter asked to use the recently acquired iPad. Joe was concerned that she would drop it, his wife thought that the daughters desire to write overshadowed his concerns. Joe relented.
While he was in the dining room hooking the keyboard up to it, I told Kathleen that I agreed with her.
“I was taking photos one day with my SLR,” I said as I pointed to the SLR digital camera on the table, “And my niece asked if she could take a photo and at first you wonder if you should just hand over your six hundred dollar camera to a five year old but you also want to encourage them.”
“So you hand them the camera. You gotta.”
“Yeah, you have to.”
(I wasn’t correcting her because I say gotta all the time because sometimes you just gotta use it. I was just agreeing)
Shoes still on.
I hear my phone buzzing. It's almost always on vibrate and I use the 'alarm clock' tool. I think, "What the fuck?" because I'm lying opposite in the bed from what is usually normal, there's no headboard so it kind of makes no difference but I usually only collapse on the bed like that if I plan on only being there briefly.
I was fully dressed and my contact lens were still in.
I remember I finished the night with three Scotches, poured at my buddy's kitchen table.
My computer had being turned on and was still running.
I was fully dressed and my contact lens were still in.
I remember I finished the night with three Scotches, poured at my buddy's kitchen table.
My computer had being turned on and was still running.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Real Ladies Love It. The Fake Ladies Seem Indifferent to It.
Using code he informed me of his plans. So, I showed up at the place but he wasn’t there. I was undeterred. I hadn’t been there since the people that knew me best had left, but the one that was there recognized me.
During a moment that wasn’t busy she said, “I like the goatee.”
I smiled because I knew she liked it because she's a lady and real ladies love it, and I smiled because it was cool she said so. That's number four unsolicited favorable remarks, there have been no unfavorable remarks.
...
I was just finishing talking to some guy at the front desk, when the boss walked by. The big boss, the boss to the boss of the boss of my boss(my boss's boss's boss's boss). The office is sparse of folks that you would trust talking to the public so at the moment, I'm at the top. It isn't in my job description, it is quite out of my scope but helping folks is what I do.
While walking back to my desk, the boss turns to me and says, "You were way too nice to that guy."
"Yeah, with the holidays and all, I should have said get the heck out of here." while making a kicking motion which caused the boss under him to join the conversation because he didn't want to miss out on a funny joke.
During a moment that wasn’t busy she said, “I like the goatee.”
I smiled because I knew she liked it because she's a lady and real ladies love it, and I smiled because it was cool she said so. That's number four unsolicited favorable remarks, there have been no unfavorable remarks.
...
I was just finishing talking to some guy at the front desk, when the boss walked by. The big boss, the boss to the boss of the boss of my boss(my boss's boss's boss's boss). The office is sparse of folks that you would trust talking to the public so at the moment, I'm at the top. It isn't in my job description, it is quite out of my scope but helping folks is what I do.
While walking back to my desk, the boss turns to me and says, "You were way too nice to that guy."
"Yeah, with the holidays and all, I should have said get the heck out of here." while making a kicking motion which caused the boss under him to join the conversation because he didn't want to miss out on a funny joke.
Lots of Folk Misspell Faneuil.
Not my sign but I did ask for them to be put up. I took this down because it was in the wrong place.
I walked outside to make a call. Quincy Market. Faneuil Hall was hosting Firefighter of the Year.
Not my train.
It Snowed In Boston Today
The sidewalk in front of my house had probably about an inch of light powdery snow by the time I walked over it.
It's cold and will be cold for sometime. Six more hours or so of snow was still on it's way. The forecast said it would probably stop at about midnight. The snow wasn't going to go anywhere anytime soon after it would stop.
I opened the side door to my house to get a look at about 11:45PM. I couldn't see anymore falling on top of the inch and a half that coated my stairs. I then checked the local interactive weather map on intellicast.com. The radar showed that possibly there would be no more snow at night.
I leaned back in my chair and thought about saying, "I hate snow," but I didn't. First because it isn't really true, I don't hate snow, I hate what snow often causes. Second because I know someone who misses snow.
So, I said, "Fine. So you don't hate snow. What are you going to do about it?" I wanted to leave it for the morning and worry about it then but I knew I wouldn't be willing to rise early and take care of it and I'm going to work two jobs tomorrow so it wouldn't be until tomorrow night until I could take care of it. I wanted just to leave it alone, which would mean snow on my walkway for days.
Then I heard a voice from within my head say, "There was a time when you would do it tonight."
I want to say that I hate that voice but I don't. I only hate some of the things that voice says. That voice usually gives the proper bearing, a bearing usually opposite to where I face.
I like to think that the Timmy of old is still in there somewhere. Somewhere beneath all the bullshit attitude, I've been storing in my soul. The Timmy of legend. The Timmy whose tale when told by those who knew him tear up a little at his generosity, even though they are standing in the middle of a Christmas party.
I always down play the legend.
I can understand why some folks hated the legendary Timmy.
I want to ask, "Are you down there?" but I don't. I usually don't ask questions when some of the possible answers are things I probably don't want to hear. I inwardly say, "I wish you were here."
The voice says, "I thought you were trying to stop putting things off?"
I reply, "Yeah, that's a goal." I then got up and dressed for the weather.
I finished in about forty five minutes and then checked my email.
I read the new message; the inner voice says, "Sometimes she talks about you like you are him."
I don't say anything to the voice but I think, "I'm trying."
I notice that her subject/title line is the same as the last words in the email.
It snowed in Boston today.
It's cold and will be cold for sometime. Six more hours or so of snow was still on it's way. The forecast said it would probably stop at about midnight. The snow wasn't going to go anywhere anytime soon after it would stop.
I opened the side door to my house to get a look at about 11:45PM. I couldn't see anymore falling on top of the inch and a half that coated my stairs. I then checked the local interactive weather map on intellicast.com. The radar showed that possibly there would be no more snow at night.
I leaned back in my chair and thought about saying, "I hate snow," but I didn't. First because it isn't really true, I don't hate snow, I hate what snow often causes. Second because I know someone who misses snow.
So, I said, "Fine. So you don't hate snow. What are you going to do about it?" I wanted to leave it for the morning and worry about it then but I knew I wouldn't be willing to rise early and take care of it and I'm going to work two jobs tomorrow so it wouldn't be until tomorrow night until I could take care of it. I wanted just to leave it alone, which would mean snow on my walkway for days.
Then I heard a voice from within my head say, "There was a time when you would do it tonight."
I want to say that I hate that voice but I don't. I only hate some of the things that voice says. That voice usually gives the proper bearing, a bearing usually opposite to where I face.
I like to think that the Timmy of old is still in there somewhere. Somewhere beneath all the bullshit attitude, I've been storing in my soul. The Timmy of legend. The Timmy whose tale when told by those who knew him tear up a little at his generosity, even though they are standing in the middle of a Christmas party.
I always down play the legend.
I can understand why some folks hated the legendary Timmy.
I want to ask, "Are you down there?" but I don't. I usually don't ask questions when some of the possible answers are things I probably don't want to hear. I inwardly say, "I wish you were here."
The voice says, "I thought you were trying to stop putting things off?"
I reply, "Yeah, that's a goal." I then got up and dressed for the weather.
I finished in about forty five minutes and then checked my email.
I read the new message; the inner voice says, "Sometimes she talks about you like you are him."
I don't say anything to the voice but I think, "I'm trying."
I notice that her subject/title line is the same as the last words in the email.
It snowed in Boston today.
Monday, December 20, 2010
What is wrong with 'The Brick' (the post below)
The Brick is a chain letter send by email to warm your heart and make you reflect upon your busy self.
The story starts with some young executive traveling a bit too fast down a residential street in his Jaguar supposedly being mindful of darting children.
First young executives do not drive Jaguars and if some asshole is bombing down some residential street, he doesn't give a care about some little chunk of rift raft darting out in front of him other than the damage to his vehicle that it would cause. The story only mentions that he's watching for kids so that you don't think that he is a horrible person. The problem with that is: he's a horrible person.
Then a brick crashes into the car's side door.
Whoever threw that brick should be signed to the NFL, hitting a moving target with a brick, that's a good arm.
So the guy jumps out of his car and grabs the first kid he sees.
No pompous asshole is going to get out of his vehicle in a neighborhood where his car just got hit by a brick and start to accost little children. He would get hit with a brick in the head.
And supposedly, he says all of these things that nobody in the whole would would say in such a situation. Only a very poor and unimaginative want-to-be writer, who lives in a deep deep whole away from all interaction with other humans would convey such a steaming pile of horse shit dialog.
Blah Blah Blah.
I can't continue.
I've made myself even dumber for just reading it.
I'm sorry brain.
I'm sorry eyes.
The story starts with some young executive traveling a bit too fast down a residential street in his Jaguar supposedly being mindful of darting children.
First young executives do not drive Jaguars and if some asshole is bombing down some residential street, he doesn't give a care about some little chunk of rift raft darting out in front of him other than the damage to his vehicle that it would cause. The story only mentions that he's watching for kids so that you don't think that he is a horrible person. The problem with that is: he's a horrible person.
Then a brick crashes into the car's side door.
Whoever threw that brick should be signed to the NFL, hitting a moving target with a brick, that's a good arm.
So the guy jumps out of his car and grabs the first kid he sees.
No pompous asshole is going to get out of his vehicle in a neighborhood where his car just got hit by a brick and start to accost little children. He would get hit with a brick in the head.
And supposedly, he says all of these things that nobody in the whole would would say in such a situation. Only a very poor and unimaginative want-to-be writer, who lives in a deep deep whole away from all interaction with other humans would convey such a steaming pile of horse shit dialog.
Blah Blah Blah.
I can't continue.
I've made myself even dumber for just reading it.
I'm sorry brain.
I'm sorry eyes.
The Brick
So one of the things that I got in my email was a chain letter. Chain letters are stupid and a waste of time but I like reading them because they are so unbelievable yet some folks swear by them.
Below is "The Brick"
Below is "The Brick"
9.785
I’m not a party person, I think I do my best in small groups of people that I know where I can hear what the fuck is being said.
I go because I think if I didn’t, people’s feelings might get hurt or that people may think that I don’t like them.
Maybe I don’t like them but I don’t want them to think it, usually.
Anyway, I go and I bring my mom with me too. Somehow she got on the invite list and she actually likes talking to folks, or at least some folks.
I took my mom to the nearest ‘aunt’ that I knew she knew, got her a ginger ale, sat for a couple minutes and then left for other parts of the house.
In the kitchen, in an slight alcove, there are two chairs that face a TV, the chairs and the TV were vacant. Pro football was on the TV in the other room, so I figured it wouldn’t be inappropriate for another TV to be displaying football.
I picked up the remote and pushed the on button but nothing happened so I picked up the remote for the cable box and hit the on button and nothing happened. I then wondered at what point would my effort in getting this TV on would be inconsiderate of all the other guests.
I reached up and pushed the bottom most button in the row, nothing happened, so I pressed the top most button and the TV started to come alive. It was on the Bravo channel so I entered 25 into the remote, nothing happened. I thought, “What the..”, I opened the remote to find just one battery in a two battery compartment.
By this time I was invested in my endeavor, I retrieved the remote from the other room. I hoped the remote would work and if it didn’t I was prepared to steal the batteries from it; but it worked. I had football.
I then told Matty that I had football on in the kitchen. I don’t know anything about Matty, like whose cousin he is, all I knew is that he was sitting next to me in the other room watching football on that TV when that room filled up with old folks.
I thought: “This is sweet, I’m here at the party, I don’t have to figure out what to do with myself, if people want to talk to me: I right here.”
I was expecting a phone call because I left two messaged with the friend I had invited but I hadn’t heard back from her. She knows the host of the party and in the past she has met me at the party so, I conveyed the particulars in the second voicemail and left it at that. According to her Facebook page she made plans earlier that day to shop on Newbury Street, so I know she wasn’t dead in a ditch or anything.
Sitting in my comfy chair I checked my phone and noticed I had a voice mail. I was slightly annoyed that somehow I had missed a call but I had been doing other things besides just sitting, like digging folding chairs out of a closet and still trying to get the sound system to work.
I listen to the message, it wasn’t the one I expected but I did welcome the diversion.
I don’t mind listening to voicemails at parties if I’m not engaged and I will actually take a call if I don’t think it will look rude but making a phone call, I think, might cross a line. I know that there are occasions where making a phone call at a party is okay but I was pretty certain my instance wasn’t one of those occasions. So, I pulled out my iPod and sent an email.
Sending emails and texting at a party is still most likely rude but you can still be slightly engage with your surrounding while doing so. I cut myself some slack.
Later, my mom found me and said she was ready to go.
I said goodbye to maybe four different folks and then left.
On a scale of one to ten I would rate the event a 6, for the voicemail and email reply: I give a rate of 9.785.
I go because I think if I didn’t, people’s feelings might get hurt or that people may think that I don’t like them.
Maybe I don’t like them but I don’t want them to think it, usually.
Anyway, I go and I bring my mom with me too. Somehow she got on the invite list and she actually likes talking to folks, or at least some folks.
I took my mom to the nearest ‘aunt’ that I knew she knew, got her a ginger ale, sat for a couple minutes and then left for other parts of the house.
In the kitchen, in an slight alcove, there are two chairs that face a TV, the chairs and the TV were vacant. Pro football was on the TV in the other room, so I figured it wouldn’t be inappropriate for another TV to be displaying football.
I picked up the remote and pushed the on button but nothing happened so I picked up the remote for the cable box and hit the on button and nothing happened. I then wondered at what point would my effort in getting this TV on would be inconsiderate of all the other guests.
I reached up and pushed the bottom most button in the row, nothing happened, so I pressed the top most button and the TV started to come alive. It was on the Bravo channel so I entered 25 into the remote, nothing happened. I thought, “What the..”, I opened the remote to find just one battery in a two battery compartment.
By this time I was invested in my endeavor, I retrieved the remote from the other room. I hoped the remote would work and if it didn’t I was prepared to steal the batteries from it; but it worked. I had football.
I then told Matty that I had football on in the kitchen. I don’t know anything about Matty, like whose cousin he is, all I knew is that he was sitting next to me in the other room watching football on that TV when that room filled up with old folks.
I thought: “This is sweet, I’m here at the party, I don’t have to figure out what to do with myself, if people want to talk to me: I right here.”
I was expecting a phone call because I left two messaged with the friend I had invited but I hadn’t heard back from her. She knows the host of the party and in the past she has met me at the party so, I conveyed the particulars in the second voicemail and left it at that. According to her Facebook page she made plans earlier that day to shop on Newbury Street, so I know she wasn’t dead in a ditch or anything.
Sitting in my comfy chair I checked my phone and noticed I had a voice mail. I was slightly annoyed that somehow I had missed a call but I had been doing other things besides just sitting, like digging folding chairs out of a closet and still trying to get the sound system to work.
I listen to the message, it wasn’t the one I expected but I did welcome the diversion.
I don’t mind listening to voicemails at parties if I’m not engaged and I will actually take a call if I don’t think it will look rude but making a phone call, I think, might cross a line. I know that there are occasions where making a phone call at a party is okay but I was pretty certain my instance wasn’t one of those occasions. So, I pulled out my iPod and sent an email.
Sending emails and texting at a party is still most likely rude but you can still be slightly engage with your surrounding while doing so. I cut myself some slack.
Later, my mom found me and said she was ready to go.
I said goodbye to maybe four different folks and then left.
On a scale of one to ten I would rate the event a 6, for the voicemail and email reply: I give a rate of 9.785.
Sophia
The first thing that I did was to make ten signs. See how nicely all the pertinent information is beautifully arrange. I did that.
10:28AM minus three times zones equals 7:28AM, is what I was thinking at 10:28AM.
...
At the party there was some young relative of the host, she was probably about twelve or thirteen, her hair was thick and full and she was starting to show curves that would help her get whatever she wants in life during whatever will be her prime years.
She was trying her best to get someone to be Santa. That someone wished for no part of being Santa. She was persistent and would occasionally look like she was about to focus her attention on me, but I wasn’t family, I was unknown, so I was safe. I’m pretty sure she pouted but left with her head held high and as soon as she turned, her self confidence reached the roof again.
I thought, “All your future husbands will be wrapped around your finger.”
Her name was Sophia.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Gin & tonic's were a longtime ago.
I ended up waiting outside her house I was across the 60' roadway.
I reached in back of the passenger side chair for a partially frozen bottle of water. I though about sending a text. I thought a text would be easier to interrupt if the phone ran with the return call I was waiting for. The text would travel clear across the nation. I hadn't thought about what would specifically be in that text but it would have been on the nature of just saying hello, the thought of it aroused me. I wondered what would have happened if I thought about shaking hands. I said softly out loud, "Relax fella's".
I looked up and across to the second floor and wondered. I knew that there was a wireless router beyond the curtains, I pulled out my iPod and went to 'Settings' and her connection came up with a little symbol of a lock next to it.
I touched the connection and it asked me for the passcode so I typed that in.
I started a blog post when my phone ran.
It was about 1:00PM, we had agreed to meet in the morning. I asked how long she was going to be. She said she was on the way.
I gave up on the blog post and sat there as my iPod charged and broadcast itself onto my truck radio at the frequency of 88.3.
Then I took out my camera.
I have these magnets on my frig. They are of my eyes: one left, one right. I thought it would be a little disconcerting to have eyes just staring at you. The eye magnets get moved around as magnets are sometimes needed but eventually they get put together.
Eye shine is important. Photographers strive for it and sometimes will add it if it is not there.
The camera has but one eye.
My two eyes took turns staring back.
I'm still surprised at how incredibly close I had to hold that camera to my eye.
I was like, "Dude, back up. You're freaking me out."
I saw her pull into her driveway, she has a free standing garage in the back of the her house. I met her as she struggled a little to unlock the back door while holding a case of cranberry juice.
I replaced her dimmer switch then I worked at fixing the CD player that is hooked up to her sound system. I found one problem but it didn't solve what she was complaining about so then we swapped out the CD player, after I told her the wiring was correct. The CD player we swapped, had it own problem which I fixed after I took the case off. She can now play Christmas music.
She smelled of cigarettes.
She then asked me not to forget about the mouse. The mouse that she called me about the day before. The mouse that had its life ended in one of the traps. I disposed of the mouse and freshly baited all the traps.
That was the end of all she asked me for until she added hanging two wreathes up. I hung one but then had questions about the other so I went to find her. She was in the living room talking on the phone. I let her know I was looking for her and waited in the dining room. I then found what I needed and went back to the third floor.
About seven minutes later she called up to me from the second floor. I met her at the landing. She still smelled of cigarettes but now I could smell hard liquor too. I worried a little but kept my mouth shut. I told her all that I done as I stared at her ass as she went down the stairs, before we got to the bottom, someone was at the front door. She opened the door and introduced me to the guy.
She said, "This is Tim. He works with me over at MCM and he just fixed the CD player," I offered my hand. We shook. She then started a conversation that didn't concern me so I left. I walk to the living room where her red plastic cup sat. It had a lot of ice in it, it was at least two-thirds full. I picked it up and took a sniff. It was gin and tonic, heavy on the gin. I used to drink gin and tonics all the time but very rarely alone.
I then walked to the kitchen to see if I could find a gin bottle out in the open. There wasn't any that I could see so I walked back to the front of the house where she met me in the hallway.
She started summing up the day and also the party that was scheduled for the day to follow. I thought about the cup with gin. I glanced up to get a read from her eyes. She was genuinely happy to have her music. I thought about asking for a gin and tonic because I don't like folks drinking alone. I glanced again.
I'll only chance glances with folks that know me because they know when I look longer than a glance then something is up, that I'm trying to search their soul, and I only soul search if I think there is a problem. I can get similar information from the glances but it isn't as accurate. It like trying to figure out what's going on inside a house while driving by the windows. It's easier if you just stop and look. I got that she was just a little tired. A lot of the last decade has been tough on her and it has trickled down to me.
I asked myself, "No drink then?" I replied, "Gin & tonic's were a long time ago."
I reached in back of the passenger side chair for a partially frozen bottle of water. I though about sending a text. I thought a text would be easier to interrupt if the phone ran with the return call I was waiting for. The text would travel clear across the nation. I hadn't thought about what would specifically be in that text but it would have been on the nature of just saying hello, the thought of it aroused me. I wondered what would have happened if I thought about shaking hands. I said softly out loud, "Relax fella's".
I looked up and across to the second floor and wondered. I knew that there was a wireless router beyond the curtains, I pulled out my iPod and went to 'Settings' and her connection came up with a little symbol of a lock next to it.
I touched the connection and it asked me for the passcode so I typed that in.
I started a blog post when my phone ran.
It was about 1:00PM, we had agreed to meet in the morning. I asked how long she was going to be. She said she was on the way.
I gave up on the blog post and sat there as my iPod charged and broadcast itself onto my truck radio at the frequency of 88.3.
Then I took out my camera.
I have these magnets on my frig. They are of my eyes: one left, one right. I thought it would be a little disconcerting to have eyes just staring at you. The eye magnets get moved around as magnets are sometimes needed but eventually they get put together.
Eye shine is important. Photographers strive for it and sometimes will add it if it is not there.
The camera has but one eye.
My two eyes took turns staring back.
I'm still surprised at how incredibly close I had to hold that camera to my eye.
I was like, "Dude, back up. You're freaking me out."
I saw her pull into her driveway, she has a free standing garage in the back of the her house. I met her as she struggled a little to unlock the back door while holding a case of cranberry juice.
I replaced her dimmer switch then I worked at fixing the CD player that is hooked up to her sound system. I found one problem but it didn't solve what she was complaining about so then we swapped out the CD player, after I told her the wiring was correct. The CD player we swapped, had it own problem which I fixed after I took the case off. She can now play Christmas music.
She smelled of cigarettes.
She then asked me not to forget about the mouse. The mouse that she called me about the day before. The mouse that had its life ended in one of the traps. I disposed of the mouse and freshly baited all the traps.
That was the end of all she asked me for until she added hanging two wreathes up. I hung one but then had questions about the other so I went to find her. She was in the living room talking on the phone. I let her know I was looking for her and waited in the dining room. I then found what I needed and went back to the third floor.
About seven minutes later she called up to me from the second floor. I met her at the landing. She still smelled of cigarettes but now I could smell hard liquor too. I worried a little but kept my mouth shut. I told her all that I done as I stared at her ass as she went down the stairs, before we got to the bottom, someone was at the front door. She opened the door and introduced me to the guy.
She said, "This is Tim. He works with me over at MCM and he just fixed the CD player," I offered my hand. We shook. She then started a conversation that didn't concern me so I left. I walk to the living room where her red plastic cup sat. It had a lot of ice in it, it was at least two-thirds full. I picked it up and took a sniff. It was gin and tonic, heavy on the gin. I used to drink gin and tonics all the time but very rarely alone.
I then walked to the kitchen to see if I could find a gin bottle out in the open. There wasn't any that I could see so I walked back to the front of the house where she met me in the hallway.
She started summing up the day and also the party that was scheduled for the day to follow. I thought about the cup with gin. I glanced up to get a read from her eyes. She was genuinely happy to have her music. I thought about asking for a gin and tonic because I don't like folks drinking alone. I glanced again.
I'll only chance glances with folks that know me because they know when I look longer than a glance then something is up, that I'm trying to search their soul, and I only soul search if I think there is a problem. I can get similar information from the glances but it isn't as accurate. It like trying to figure out what's going on inside a house while driving by the windows. It's easier if you just stop and look. I got that she was just a little tired. A lot of the last decade has been tough on her and it has trickled down to me.
I asked myself, "No drink then?" I replied, "Gin & tonic's were a long time ago."
Thank you
I googled Oregon Tilth
There is too much circulating in my non-cooperating head, right now.
The guy's name was Eddie. He wore a Veteran's hat. He asked if anybody was sitting in the empty seat beside me. The seats were kind of tight at the bar so it was a bit of a squeeze and he was saying "Sorry" and I'm thinking, "Just do it." He asked if I minded him sitting there. I said, "Yeah I kind of do mind but it's not you, it's the stench of war on you."
I didn't say that and I don't mind when people sit next to me at a crowded bar but I do mind when they make a deal about it.
He forced my attention away from the guy to my left, but I try to be civil so I turned in Eddie's direction. After a little Q&A he asks if I want a shot. I had been thinking of doing a shot of Jack Daniels, but I don't like doing shots alone so I said I'd do a shot if I could pay. He obliged.
The seat next to him then cleared up so he moved over expressing his desire to "give me room." He moved and then started a conversation with the dude next to him.
I was glad to get rid of him but I was a little like, "What the fuck."
He didn't shoot his shot either, he just sipped it. Sipped it with his new friend. Whatever.
...
The book itself isn't the best part, it's the post-it noted notes inside.
Often the best gift I can give is my time so it touches my heart when I get something that took someone's thought and effort which equals time.
I spent this moment of my life on you.
That's cool.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
How about I give you a dollar to shut the fuck up?
So, I see the headline Subway Singing Sensation. The dude's name is David Dumas and he sings opera on the New York subway.
I can't care how lovely a voice this guy has, if he is singing on my car, I'm thinking, "Stick a sock in it."
Notes:
REM BJ's
Play ball
Pulsation fixation
Come for a kiss
Hair, hold this
Hand fed
Quiet request, joined at the hips, cheeks divided
I think you dropped something
Coming, clean
Play ball
Pulsation fixation
Come for a kiss
Hair, hold this
Hand fed
Quiet request, joined at the hips, cheeks divided
I think you dropped something
Coming, clean
I learned about Flip video cameras from a blog.
The place asked for a video clip of former attendees. The place deals with persons with behavioral problems; that person in my circle is the Owner's daughter.
The place had sent a SD memory card with the request to put the clip on the card and send it back. The Owner knew that the place just really needed a way to get the clip and that the memory card was just sent for convenience.
I thought it presumptuous to send a memory card but who am I to judge and plus the Owner knows I'm set up to handle all sorts of media.
The Owner asked me to drop by on Wednesday to help. I told her the day before to just shoot the video and I'll prepare it to any format the place wants.
On Wednesday, I got there earlier than she would have expected and we talked about the video. She hadn't shot it yet but the Flip video camera was charging at home and once her daughter returned from school, she would record the clip. She called the place while I was there and I spoke to the guy who was compiling the video about size and format.
I don't have a Flip camera but I've seen the specs. I told the Owner that whatever way the camera spits out the video, the guy at the place would be able to use. I further told her that there is a jack that flips out from the camera and plugs directly into a USB port, and Windows should handle the setup and downloading from there. I told her that I was confident that her and her daughter could figure it out.
I know she's had issues with her daughter and I thought it would be a good opportunity to further bond. I assumed that the clip was going to be more personal than most people would just like to have the whole world to see, so I said that it would be more advantageous if I weren't there; she agreed with my thinking. I told her to call me if there were troubles.
She didn't call.
The place had sent a SD memory card with the request to put the clip on the card and send it back. The Owner knew that the place just really needed a way to get the clip and that the memory card was just sent for convenience.
I thought it presumptuous to send a memory card but who am I to judge and plus the Owner knows I'm set up to handle all sorts of media.
The Owner asked me to drop by on Wednesday to help. I told her the day before to just shoot the video and I'll prepare it to any format the place wants.
On Wednesday, I got there earlier than she would have expected and we talked about the video. She hadn't shot it yet but the Flip video camera was charging at home and once her daughter returned from school, she would record the clip. She called the place while I was there and I spoke to the guy who was compiling the video about size and format.
I don't have a Flip camera but I've seen the specs. I told the Owner that whatever way the camera spits out the video, the guy at the place would be able to use. I further told her that there is a jack that flips out from the camera and plugs directly into a USB port, and Windows should handle the setup and downloading from there. I told her that I was confident that her and her daughter could figure it out.
I know she's had issues with her daughter and I thought it would be a good opportunity to further bond. I assumed that the clip was going to be more personal than most people would just like to have the whole world to see, so I said that it would be more advantageous if I weren't there; she agreed with my thinking. I told her to call me if there were troubles.
She didn't call.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Time and Temperature
When I walked in she was just standing there wearing black lace boy shorts. I searched my memory if I had ever spoken my fondness of boy shorts to her. I could not think of an instance of were I even ever said "Boy shorts" in her presence. I could only remember thinking about how great boy shorts would look on her.
She claims she's has no psychic abilities, she claims it's all her ability to empathize, her interviewing skills both avert and subvert, and her listening skill. I don't think she a liar but I think she may not know she has psychic abilities, that she just rationalizes what she knows to something on the Earthly plain.
I step near her to whisper, "I'm back," into her left ear as I continue my motion to get behind her. She replies by saying, "I thought you would be," and as she starts to turn I say, "Don't."
I undress behind her and I wonder if those boy shorts would look as good on any other ass. I think of all the other asses in the World and further think that they are one lucky pair of boy shorts.
I stand up behind and whisper, into her right ear this time, "How long have you been standing here?" as I move around to her front. I smile with pleasure thinking about how every time I whisper, she tilts her head in desire of my softly spoken words. She replies, "Not long but too long."
I kneel in front of her about a step away. I grab her waist and pull her closer. It's a subtle power move, even though I'm the one one his knees, it's my bidding that we will be doing.
I kiss her navel, a little peck at first and then with a little tongue.
I feel her shiver but I don't look up; looking up would transfer any power I just gained back to her and it isn't time for that, yet.
I slide what she's wearing down to her knees and say to myself, "Well, hello." I know why women shave their most private areas but I don't agree with it and I'm always grateful when I see that she doesn't agree with it either.
I bury my nostrils into her bush and take a deep breath but its never the first breath that is the most rewarding, it's one of the ones that follow, one of the ones that is warmed by my exhales which sort of steams her scent from her.
I can feel she wants more but I make her wait.
She claims she's has no psychic abilities, she claims it's all her ability to empathize, her interviewing skills both avert and subvert, and her listening skill. I don't think she a liar but I think she may not know she has psychic abilities, that she just rationalizes what she knows to something on the Earthly plain.
I step near her to whisper, "I'm back," into her left ear as I continue my motion to get behind her. She replies by saying, "I thought you would be," and as she starts to turn I say, "Don't."
I undress behind her and I wonder if those boy shorts would look as good on any other ass. I think of all the other asses in the World and further think that they are one lucky pair of boy shorts.
I stand up behind and whisper, into her right ear this time, "How long have you been standing here?" as I move around to her front. I smile with pleasure thinking about how every time I whisper, she tilts her head in desire of my softly spoken words. She replies, "Not long but too long."
I kneel in front of her about a step away. I grab her waist and pull her closer. It's a subtle power move, even though I'm the one one his knees, it's my bidding that we will be doing.
I kiss her navel, a little peck at first and then with a little tongue.
I feel her shiver but I don't look up; looking up would transfer any power I just gained back to her and it isn't time for that, yet.
I slide what she's wearing down to her knees and say to myself, "Well, hello." I know why women shave their most private areas but I don't agree with it and I'm always grateful when I see that she doesn't agree with it either.
I bury my nostrils into her bush and take a deep breath but its never the first breath that is the most rewarding, it's one of the ones that follow, one of the ones that is warmed by my exhales which sort of steams her scent from her.
I can feel she wants more but I make her wait.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
untitled, entitled
My back hurts and I don't feel tired and I don't feel like reading. It's 1:23AM.
I don't know how I'm going to do all the shit I need to do for the rest of the week by tomorrow at 4PM.
When I mentioned the guy's name on the phone she repeated, "Asshole," at least five times straight in a row. It was a business call so it was a little odd and a lot telling.
After I hung up the phone with the guy, I thought he was more of a douche bag.
I don't know how I'm going to do all the shit I need to do for the rest of the week by tomorrow at 4PM.
When I mentioned the guy's name on the phone she repeated, "Asshole," at least five times straight in a row. It was a business call so it was a little odd and a lot telling.
After I hung up the phone with the guy, I thought he was more of a douche bag.
Monday, December 13, 2010
Butte or bluff?
I think a response is warranted but I don’t know what the response should be other than it would be positive.
I wonder what the perspective is.
How far are you?
How close am I?
Butte or bluff?
I wonder what the perspective is.
How far are you?
How close am I?
Butte or bluff?
Laughs and Snorts
Good Monday.
Some stuff was moved about my desk but otherwise things seemed unscathed; there is always this worry I have that things are going to get trashed because someone is looking for something.
Nobody should be looking for anything.
But such is life.
Occasionally, we all end up searching for something, I guess.
The last day that I was in work was on Tuesday.
Now, it’s Monday.
I can hear four different phone calls going on.
I open up my iTunes.
I think about how much I like not coming into work.
I think about being seduced by the two day work weeks that I had scheduled for myself.
I think about money and then love.
I think I should be able it conquer the day job.
I think about why I let it conquer me so often.
I think about sinking and swimming.
I think that sinking seems so peaceful.
I think that saying that “Sinking seems so peaceful” may seem like a reference to suicide.
I think I need to say, I would welcome the sensory deprivation
I think that I would also welcome some sensory depravation.
Some stuff was moved about my desk but otherwise things seemed unscathed; there is always this worry I have that things are going to get trashed because someone is looking for something.
Nobody should be looking for anything.
But such is life.
Occasionally, we all end up searching for something, I guess.
The last day that I was in work was on Tuesday.
Now, it’s Monday.
I can hear four different phone calls going on.
I open up my iTunes.
I think about how much I like not coming into work.
I think about being seduced by the two day work weeks that I had scheduled for myself.
I think about money and then love.
I think I should be able it conquer the day job.
I think about why I let it conquer me so often.
I think about sinking and swimming.
I think that sinking seems so peaceful.
I think that saying that “Sinking seems so peaceful” may seem like a reference to suicide.
I think I need to say, I would welcome the sensory deprivation
I think that I would also welcome some sensory depravation.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
I'm no prince but I am charming
She was pouring a stout beer from the tap. It looked like she had some worries. I don't know her that well because she mostly serves as a waitress but she knows I'm friends with the bartender and a few regulars.
I bent down so that I could look her in the eyes and she smiled at me. I smiled back and said, "I was going to say that you need to smile but you just gave me one so, you've already taken care of that."
And then her smile grew. She finished the pour and I went back to my conversation. The guys that I were with are used to me leaving a conversation to steal a smile. Sometimes, they will pause the conversation but usually they don't and just shake their heads at me when I return my attention back to them. I just shrug my shoulders and laugh a little. I think it's important to keep the bar staff happy, even if they aren't pouring your drinks.
While I was leaving, I surveyed the bar room to say my goodbyes and the waitress was waiting to catch my eye, and when she did she smiled, I smiled back as I gave a half wave.
Her name's Kaitlyn.
I bent down so that I could look her in the eyes and she smiled at me. I smiled back and said, "I was going to say that you need to smile but you just gave me one so, you've already taken care of that."
And then her smile grew. She finished the pour and I went back to my conversation. The guys that I were with are used to me leaving a conversation to steal a smile. Sometimes, they will pause the conversation but usually they don't and just shake their heads at me when I return my attention back to them. I just shrug my shoulders and laugh a little. I think it's important to keep the bar staff happy, even if they aren't pouring your drinks.
While I was leaving, I surveyed the bar room to say my goodbyes and the waitress was waiting to catch my eye, and when she did she smiled, I smiled back as I gave a half wave.
Her name's Kaitlyn.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
untitled
The Friday at noon union e-board meeting I had got canceled which was a welcomed surprise. So, I headed in town.
When I walked through the door there were only two guys sitting at the bar and they were at the corner stools, when my eyes adjusted to the light, I realized it was one of my liked co-workers so I sat next to him and then I realized the other dude was a friend in the same line of work.
Amanda asked, "What are you drinking, young man?"
"I'll try the Molson again."
"Why are you drinking?" she asked because it was before one o'clock.
"It's a day off."
The Molson's are two bucks a pint where the Newcastle's are five bucks, if the plan was to have just two or three, I would have ordered Newcastle.
Friday, December 10, 2010
Lend Me Your Eyes, I Can Change What You See
I bought a pressure cooker today, mostly because I didn't want to take the trouble to roast the two chickens that I had in the frig since Saturday.
And I had a coupon.
It cost me eighty dollars not to roast nine dollars worth of chicken.
Mumford & Sons
Sigh No More
Awake My Soul
My guess was that she was helping out her grandmother which was confirmed through the conversation that I could hear. My guess was that she was about twenty.
I first noticed them while they were sort of blocking the aisle that I wanted to get down. I didn't blame them though because it wasn't their fault Kmart puts some of their shelving units too close together. I didn't want to disturb them so I walked around the other way.
She was trying to figure out what the difference between the two eight inch nonstick frying pans. I thought it was slightly odd that the grandmother was the one that needed help picking out frying pans. She was patient, kind and was explaining everything in simple terms.
She reminded me that I should be kinder to my own family.
And I had a coupon.
It cost me eighty dollars not to roast nine dollars worth of chicken.
Mumford & Sons
Sigh No More
Awake My Soul
My guess was that she was helping out her grandmother which was confirmed through the conversation that I could hear. My guess was that she was about twenty.
I first noticed them while they were sort of blocking the aisle that I wanted to get down. I didn't blame them though because it wasn't their fault Kmart puts some of their shelving units too close together. I didn't want to disturb them so I walked around the other way.
She was trying to figure out what the difference between the two eight inch nonstick frying pans. I thought it was slightly odd that the grandmother was the one that needed help picking out frying pans. She was patient, kind and was explaining everything in simple terms.
She reminded me that I should be kinder to my own family.
Wednesday, December 08, 2010
You can call it bland but I would argue that it's not ugly
Someone dream about my hideous sofa.
I would not argue that it's rather subdued but I don't think it hurts your eyes to look at.
There are actually two of these in that room and they are technically called 'Chair and a Half,' because I'm that decadent.
I would not argue that it's rather subdued but I don't think it hurts your eyes to look at.
There are actually two of these in that room and they are technically called 'Chair and a Half,' because I'm that decadent.
The Tree
I was like: "Dude, stop posing. I hate posed shots, just be natural." but he continued to strike his lame pose. What a bastard! He knows I like to take candid shots.
Coming Soon
He retired from the place about a year and a half ago but every once in awhile he'll give me a call. I overheard my cube neighbor on the phone and I figured he was talking to the guy. I must have been away from my desk at the copy machine or something when the phone rang. My cube neighbor hung up the phone and said, "Green! It's for you."
I picked up the phone and said, "Is this Santa?"
"It's true I will be coming soon but this isn't Santa."
I picked up the phone and said, "Is this Santa?"
"It's true I will be coming soon but this isn't Santa."
Tuesday, December 07, 2010
I believe 'Down the Chimney' is the same as 'In the Breezer'.
Into her right ear, he whispered that he loved her completely.
He felt her lower her gaze as she whispered a plea in return.
“Please don’t trust me with your whole heart yet.”
…
I usually have the luxury of having my questions answered without having to ask them.
I had the time and the money so I walked across the street, was greeted by a regular who was smoking, and was told the name of the bartender that was working. I told the regular that his news was welcomed because she was the one I was there to see.
It wasn’t my regular bar but it was one of my regular bartenders. I haven’t been getting out much; I had been telling myself that I was too busy, but sometimes you have to make your presence known.
The bartender told me that a bartender at my regular place was let go. I knew she was gone but I thought she was the one that made the choice. I was then told that one of bartender/managers was let go as well.
The two people that were let go were the only two reasons, I was still going there.
“Well, I guess I have no reason to go back.”
"Yeah, you sure don’t. Now you get to visit me more.”
“Yeah, I sure do.”
I hung around awhile talking with the regulars that I knew and getting to know the regulars that I didn’t; because I’m rather charming, you know.
I had been going to the other place for a very long time. I had seen dozens of bartenders come and go but there were always at least two bartenders that perpetuated my legendary status.
The last two had just left. I guess it’s the end of an era.
I’m certain that the new place will work out.
She said, “Wanting to fuck her brains out,” didn’t count as being interested in her mind.
“Hey, did I ever tell you why Mrs. Claus doesn’t have any children?”
“No, I don’t think so,” I replied with a little bit of dread.
“Well, Mrs. Claus can’t get pregnant because Santa only comes once a year and when he does, it’s down the chimney.”
He felt her lower her gaze as she whispered a plea in return.
“Please don’t trust me with your whole heart yet.”
…
I usually have the luxury of having my questions answered without having to ask them.
I had the time and the money so I walked across the street, was greeted by a regular who was smoking, and was told the name of the bartender that was working. I told the regular that his news was welcomed because she was the one I was there to see.
It wasn’t my regular bar but it was one of my regular bartenders. I haven’t been getting out much; I had been telling myself that I was too busy, but sometimes you have to make your presence known.
The bartender told me that a bartender at my regular place was let go. I knew she was gone but I thought she was the one that made the choice. I was then told that one of bartender/managers was let go as well.
The two people that were let go were the only two reasons, I was still going there.
“Well, I guess I have no reason to go back.”
"Yeah, you sure don’t. Now you get to visit me more.”
“Yeah, I sure do.”
I hung around awhile talking with the regulars that I knew and getting to know the regulars that I didn’t; because I’m rather charming, you know.
I had been going to the other place for a very long time. I had seen dozens of bartenders come and go but there were always at least two bartenders that perpetuated my legendary status.
The last two had just left. I guess it’s the end of an era.
I’m certain that the new place will work out.
She said, “Wanting to fuck her brains out,” didn’t count as being interested in her mind.
“Hey, did I ever tell you why Mrs. Claus doesn’t have any children?”
“No, I don’t think so,” I replied with a little bit of dread.
“Well, Mrs. Claus can’t get pregnant because Santa only comes once a year and when he does, it’s down the chimney.”
Sunday, December 05, 2010
Seven Year Itch
2004.
2011-2004=7
January 19, 2011 will be my seven year anniversary.
They say that writers write; but is everyone who writes a writer?
fifteen minutes later...
I wonder how much money I have in the bank right now.
five minutes later...
The Christmas tree is up. It's nine feet tall.
four minutes later...
I'm back to work on Monday and Tuesday and then I'm taking Wednesday-Friday off and then I'll do the same the following week. When I'm away, I'll forward my work emails to my personal account, I judge each email. There was only one that I acted on, I left my house, went to where my work car is being repaired, took some No Parking signs out and posted them. The email was sent on Saturday afternoon. Who sends a work related email on Saturday afternoon?
I've known that lady since before I worked for the city. I was the one that composed the memo to have the signs posted, I was the only one she knew to contact, I was on vacation when the signs were supposed to be put up, the shop is pretty good about putting signs up, I wondered if it was my screwup. I found the PDF file of the memo on my flashdrive which means I emailed it out. Shit happens or in this case shit didn't.
I posted the signs and then had a few extras that she could use just in case someone tore down the signs that I had just put up. While I was waiting in the reception area, I read names off the dedication plaque. My name wasn't there but the company name was, I thought, "That was a long time ago. I bet nobody here remembers."
I had thought about ignoring the email, I wasn't going to get paid for hanging signs, it was the weekend and I was on vacation. It's not my job to hang signs.
But if not I, then who?
It was a kind of important issue and a few angry phone calls would have been made if nothing was done, someone's ass was on the line.
(This is the type of shit I usually don't publish)
2011-2004=7
January 19, 2011 will be my seven year anniversary.
They say that writers write; but is everyone who writes a writer?
fifteen minutes later...
I wonder how much money I have in the bank right now.
five minutes later...
The Christmas tree is up. It's nine feet tall.
four minutes later...
I'm back to work on Monday and Tuesday and then I'm taking Wednesday-Friday off and then I'll do the same the following week. When I'm away, I'll forward my work emails to my personal account, I judge each email. There was only one that I acted on, I left my house, went to where my work car is being repaired, took some No Parking signs out and posted them. The email was sent on Saturday afternoon. Who sends a work related email on Saturday afternoon?
I've known that lady since before I worked for the city. I was the one that composed the memo to have the signs posted, I was the only one she knew to contact, I was on vacation when the signs were supposed to be put up, the shop is pretty good about putting signs up, I wondered if it was my screwup. I found the PDF file of the memo on my flashdrive which means I emailed it out. Shit happens or in this case shit didn't.
I posted the signs and then had a few extras that she could use just in case someone tore down the signs that I had just put up. While I was waiting in the reception area, I read names off the dedication plaque. My name wasn't there but the company name was, I thought, "That was a long time ago. I bet nobody here remembers."
I had thought about ignoring the email, I wasn't going to get paid for hanging signs, it was the weekend and I was on vacation. It's not my job to hang signs.
But if not I, then who?
It was a kind of important issue and a few angry phone calls would have been made if nothing was done, someone's ass was on the line.
(This is the type of shit I usually don't publish)
I was asked why I started blogging.
My first post is January 19, 2004, three days before that on January 16, 2004, I sent an email with "You probably don't give a shit but", in the subject line and the following message.
I sent that message to someone I still read. She replied the same day with an email with, "I do", in the subject line, and the following message.
I felt it was unfair for me to read her writings and then to send her emails without her having the opportunity to know something about me, so I started this blog.
I like the fact that your journal doesn't involve insightful and original takes on the state of the world. I like the pretty pictures.
I’m just a nobody that found your site while looking for the Official Rules for a Yankee Swap but I don’t think a true asshole would be bothered, that sometime in the world, it’s kittens vs. bunnies.
A true asshole wouldn’t give a damn.
I sent that message to someone I still read. She replied the same day with an email with, "I do", in the subject line, and the following message.
give a shit that is and send you about four hundred and forty four thank yous for what you wrote to me. cause it's dope and courageous to write notes to peeps you do not know.
what's a yankee swap? how great is it that you can find a person who doesn't know fuckall about a yankee swap by looking for the official rules for a yankee swap? i love this internet shit.
thank you, is what i mean to say. and thank you.
friday kicks ass so far on my end. hope the same goes for you.
I felt it was unfair for me to read her writings and then to send her emails without her having the opportunity to know something about me, so I started this blog.
Friday, December 03, 2010
Devil's On The Inside.
One of the things I was saying to her was that I was looking to pick up some 4inch cake pans because I think the more common 8inch or 9inch cake pans give you too much cake. They give you cake for days but a smaller cake pan would give you cake just for a day or two. who wants cake sitting around the house for days.
Well, I got the opportunity to get 4inch cake pans but the 4inch pans they had I didn't like and after seeing the size of a 4inch cake pan I thought that a 6inch cake pan would be better and more of the size I had in mind so I got four 6inch cake pans.
But the thing of it is: I know how to bake a cake but I couldn't ever remember an instance where I actually baked a cake and I didn't want to be figuring new recipe ratios out unless I knew that the original recipe works so I got some 8inch cake pans as well.
And the cake I wanted to try was a Devil's Food Cake with Angel Frosting. So I did it.
I couldn't wait for them to cool properly, or at least I didn't wait. They were kind of cool to the touch, or at least that's what I told myself.
Angel Frosting is thick. Or at least mine was and I think I did it right.
It tasted like marshmallow, or at least it did to me.
I don't know what technique you're supposed to use for Angel Frosting so I tried for an even thickness. I'm pretty sure there are supposed to be ears or peaks. I don't even know what you're supposed to call them but I didn't do them.
I liked it. I think it could be worth the effort.
And my update to CorelDRAW X5 came today. I've made people famous using CorelDRAW. It's about five times less expensive than Adobe products. If all your stuff is in-house, it is definitely worth what you pay for it. I dropped $1,700 for Adobe products and I bought the Corel upgrade for $239 and it will do all of the same things as Adobe. The full products is like $500.
Well, I got the opportunity to get 4inch cake pans but the 4inch pans they had I didn't like and after seeing the size of a 4inch cake pan I thought that a 6inch cake pan would be better and more of the size I had in mind so I got four 6inch cake pans.
But the thing of it is: I know how to bake a cake but I couldn't ever remember an instance where I actually baked a cake and I didn't want to be figuring new recipe ratios out unless I knew that the original recipe works so I got some 8inch cake pans as well.
And the cake I wanted to try was a Devil's Food Cake with Angel Frosting. So I did it.
I couldn't wait for them to cool properly, or at least I didn't wait. They were kind of cool to the touch, or at least that's what I told myself.
Angel Frosting is thick. Or at least mine was and I think I did it right.
It tasted like marshmallow, or at least it did to me.
I don't know what technique you're supposed to use for Angel Frosting so I tried for an even thickness. I'm pretty sure there are supposed to be ears or peaks. I don't even know what you're supposed to call them but I didn't do them.
I liked it. I think it could be worth the effort.
And my update to CorelDRAW X5 came today. I've made people famous using CorelDRAW. It's about five times less expensive than Adobe products. If all your stuff is in-house, it is definitely worth what you pay for it. I dropped $1,700 for Adobe products and I bought the Corel upgrade for $239 and it will do all of the same things as Adobe. The full products is like $500.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
