Sir Charles

Better late than never, right?

Last weekend we went to a friend's place just off the shore of Lake Michigan. It was a super great time, the party was intended to be a Vinyl party so we all brought our old records from college. Unfortunately the TWO (yup, I said two) turntables that our friend brought were out of commission. One had a broken needle, and the other broke its belt just as he fired it up.

The night wasn't a total loss as we ended up moving to another friends house which was much larger and more accomodating. They warned us that rain was coming, and after about 20 minutes of frantic activity the tent and its protective tarp were packed so everybody headed over to the alternate site. What a feast! Ribs, burgers, corn, taters, salad, fruit, brownies, cookies, beer and some great wines; is it any wonder why I slept like a poisoned puppy?

Being so close to Lake Michigan was great, too. We only had to walk about 400 paces and we were on the beach ready to build sand castles, catch footballs and cool off in the lake's refreshing 72 degree water. On Sunday we were treated to a bonus of giant waves thanks to a strong southwestern wind. While it brought more of the dreaded heat I've been complaining about, the wind churned up some great 5 footers that were great for body surfing. Unfortunately, with the wind coming in at an angle to the shoreline, a nasty rip-current was moving along the beach to the north that made it far too dangerous to swim out and catch the best waves. This let me stay out in the water the entire time to play 'Lifeguard' for the little ones. While it was cute to see the 10 year-olds holding hands and protecting the 7 year-old, it was a concern nonetheless. As it turns out, the concerns were warranted and sadly a 21 year-old man drowned at a beach 20 miles south.

Once we returned home I caved-in to the heat and took refuge in an air-conditioned movie theater to see Charlie and the Chocolate Factory with my daughter. Having grown up watching Gene Wilder play Willie Wonka I was disappointed with Johnny Depp's portrayal, but the rest of the movie more than made up for it. I especially liked some of Tim Burton's modernizing twists like the pumped-up Oompa-loompa music numbers and having all the loompas portrayed by the diminutive Deep Roy was genius. There are other twists, but I will leave it to you to discover them for yourself. I don't want to spoil it for everybody.

So, plunk down a month's worth of 401K contributions and check it out for yourself. Consider the flavored cheese shakers for your popcorn an unplanned bonus just as I did. I guess I've gotta' get out more. . .

Later-

I FOUND IT!

YAY! YIPPEE! MP3 has come back to me!

The damn thing was in the pocket of my ski jacket hanging in the closet (which was covered by another coat for lack of hangers.) Using it to RIP some FOO worked great, and now I can enjoy more than 3 tracks at a time on my player (which does NOT allow uploading, so the Fookin' copyrights are safe with my player just in case Dave Grohl is wasting his time GOOGLING hisself. He probably is ogling himself considering the damn picture on the autoload player with the CD!)

I must admit: I stand corrected. I spoke in anger with my last post, it's not a one-hit CD. After listening to most of the tracks in order to decide which I wanted to load on my player, I can say that about half of it will be successful in getting airplay. If you find it for $10 at your favorite store, I'd say go buy it. That's pretty much a "thumbs-up", folks. Or an "around the world and back snap" if you're so inclined (and bless you, fellow humorist, if you are!)


~~~~~~~ <--- That's a heat wave!
It's still hotter than shite here, with this weekend climbing into the 90s with plenty of spore-fostering humidity to go with it. You can be sure that there'll be frantic calls for ozone action (or inaction as it were.) Fear not, fellow huggers and granola eaters, I will be enjoying the sun with friends, maybe frolicking in Lake Michigan, and hydrating aplenty with a lemon twist or even some limes.

You have a nice weekend. Bye now. Buh-bye!

Boo Foo! Boo-hoo two-

Today is a collection of bitchings.

First off, I need to call Foo Fighters onto my carpet for some bitching. Being a fair and responsible member of society, I went to a local store and purchased their latest release "In Your Honor". Now, I'm a big fan of MP3 players, especially those using Flash memory (no skipping!) so my plan was to rip the tracks and load them onto my player. Except one small problem, the Fookers have gone overboard with copyright protection. In a CD player, no problem. In a computer, it installs software to manage copyrights, loads "keys" from an unknown source, initially plays using Media Player (garbage, people!) and does that in an annoying full screen mode complete with the Foo boys smiling at you from a large picture. It doesn't stop here, for the CD will not play on your PC unless you load the copyright software, and the licensing language (as well as the language used on a support website) is confusing to say the least about what information may be gathered, and how it is reported.

It gets worse: the software allows the music to be ripped, (in fact, the intrusive full-screen interface makes it easy to do) but it only rips to WMA files and not MP3, so it isn't guaranteed to work with ALL players. In my opinion, WMA is an inferior format. To top it all off, the software seemingly only allows you to put 3 tracks onto your player. This is from a readme file on the CD:

• "The Standard "Check-In - Check-Out" Process: With Cd3 Technology, you have the functionality to easily access your new digital tracks for enjoyment on your portable digital devices. You have the capability to "check-out" up to three tracks at a time. Simply "check back in" the tracks you have out to make 3 more selections available. Thank you for your purchase of this "expanded experience" CD. We hope you have as much fun playing it as we had putting it together for you."

What kind of bullshit is that? Just because I choose to listen to the CD I purchased through a smaller device, they're going to tell me I can only put 3 songs on it at a time?!? And I will have to check songs in and out like I'm at a friggin' library? They can kiss my a$$, for that's all they're after it it's gone too far. On top of that, The Best of You is the only agreeable song I've heard (although I haven't completely listened to the 2nd CD yet.) So I'm out $14, and for a crappy one-hit piece of junk. F[_]CK YOU, FOO! Who are you kidding? Are you telling me that as burnouts in the 80s you didn't copy tapes, tape off the radio, etc. in order to make your own compilations? How does today's technology change that? The speed is immaterial, I've paid for the music, and should be able to listen to it in whatever format/method that I choose. This is my first FOO purchase, and will be my last. FOOls.

Next up: My old MP3 player is missing in action. It was a smaller unit (256MB)but it had one great feature, a Mic In port which allowed you to record whatever you wanted (perhaps clips from your favorite movie?) Even though we have a larger unit, it doesn't have the ability to record on the fly. I've looked everywhere I can think of, do you have it??

Finally, this summer is a scorcher and I am ready for the heat to back off. Flame on!

Reminder of Violence; or I was violated

I was checking out Jason's wife's-
blog and she was talking about a magical spa treatment that made her want to go Divinyls all over herself. This got me thinking about my first ever massage. (Well, my first "Professional" massage anyways. The "friends with benefits" kind back in college don't count. Well those counted, don't get me wrong. . . ah, I'll shut up now!)

My first massage experience wasn't such a luxurious thing, although it WAS at what I thought is a very nice spa- Mandalay Bay in Vegas. Wifey wanted to get a couples massage, but those were all booked so we got separate ones. The only thing left I could get was a 'deep tissue' massage.

My masseur was Bam-Bam hisself, no joke! He stood about 5'6", and probably needed a size 56 jacket or something obscene like that. After applying liberal amounts of oil to my back (I thought this was a safe area for a 'deep tissue' massage) he started kneading my tenderloins. I was finding it hard to breathe, but Bam-Bam was only warming up at this point. His next trick was to jab his elbow just to one side of the spine way up by the shoulder blade and then drag it all the way to the associated butt-tock. Now I understood two things: THIS is what all the damn oil was for, and without a doubt I was no longer capable of breathing.

Bam-Bam must've been a caring soul, for he felt it necessary to inquire about my well-being. "M-fffine!" I grunted, trying to sound masculine and unaffected by his brute strength. The only problem was my back was literally quivering, and this was in no way an erotic kind of thing. I should have never tried to feign indifference, because Bam-Bam decided the other back strap needed immediate attention. Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse- after all, Bam-Bam had made mincemeat out of both sides so what else was there- Bam-Bam dove in with both guns this time. I think the arch in my back was a dead give-away because he stopped and starting talking some mumbo-jumbo about "toxins releasing" and "drinking plenty of water to flush them out" and how that would be better for me. As it turns out, my time was up. Geez, I'd been assaulted and violated and damn water was going to save me?

The saving grace was that as a paid guest of the spa, we now had the run of the place. So, I immediately set to assuaging my new aches and pains by visiting the steam room and then a nice long soak in their lavish Greco-Roman bath; a lagoon-sized jacuzzi with multiple cascades, it was surrounded by huge cushy lounge chairs. And many large men were asleep in them.

"This is where husbands go to die" I thought to myself as I settled into a lounger, ready to start slugging the water and "detoxify" myself. Paradise indeed.

WE HAD A BALL!

What a week!
-Nearly 1,000 miles.
-3 destinations.
-2 family visitors stopped by for a few days.
-S'mores.


-Campfires.
-Pig roast.
-Fireworks.
-Fire trucks!


-Wind & waves!


-And of course, sunsets!


This week has been grueling, but thankfully shortened greatly by the Independence Day holiday. After an action-packed vacation it's back to finishing the deck started Father's Day weekend, so my nights have been filled and a steamer is coming for tomorrow (anything over 85 degrees is a steamer in Michigan.)

Thanks all for checking on the place while we were gone. You RULE!

Liar, liar, pants on fire

Okay, I lied, a-gain. I'm the only one awake, WIDE awake, so I'm keepin' Ma Bell happy by burning up the phone line.

Thank GAWD we're up here (for those NOT from Michigan, 'up here' means you are somewhere North, typically North of where you normally reside. See: Up North. 'Pop' is a beverage some call soda or coke.) It's been hotter than h-e-dubl-L the past week, and as soon as we got near the water the temps dropped a good 10 degrees or more. It's actually downright cool. If I sound a bit excited it's because we don't have A/C at home; and I turn into quite a grumpy grizzly bear once it starts getting over 90 during the day (and yes, it DOES stick to my fur!)

The double bonus was the JetSki ride after getting everything unpacked and eating lunch. After heading back to town to the launch, it was looking like rain and had clouded over with some wind. I forgot to pack my wetsuit, so I was starting to get a bit concerned that I could get hypothermic during the 20 minute ride back to the cottage. After launching (thanks, Wifey!!) I head out to round the point and go north; it's a bit choppy, but traffic is light and what traffic there is turns out to be mostly sail-ers. Round the point and North it is, open 'er up to 60 for a bit just to loosen up my sea legs. After a few good bumps my knees tell me to sit back down and act my age (I wish they made WD-40 for achey joints, what a pain!)

Being seated allows for some S-turns and general tom-foolery while I make my way to the Northernmost point, and when I near that point I realize that the wind has gone dead calm. Glass is coming! Feeling my oats, I pause to turn my cell phone on and taunt my brother about the conditions and the weather; he's back in the heat near where I live. HA-HA, SUCKER!

Glass makes for smooth, comfy riding; probably a good thing until my joints loosen up enough to let me take on some wave jumping and general thrashing later in the week. Until then there's plenty of rides to give the kids.

SO GOOD TO BE AWAY FROM THE OFFICE!

The answer is. . . . .

It's a vacation! Right on time, too! WOO-HOO!

Oh, BTW, the pictures below were a bit of an underhanded clue. They're taken from a little slice of Heaven where I get to spend one week each year. I'll be there in just 3 more days!

Since I'll be gone, I want to wish each of you a wonderful few weekends, I doubt that I will be blogging while there (I just can't deal with dial-up anymore, and the connection isn't too good from out there.) So, be safe, everybody!

Peace out, y'all!

All I Ever Wanted

It's coming.

You can't stop it from coming.

You can't run from it.

You can't hide from it.

You can change, move, or even delete it.

You can love it, or hate it, but seldom at the same time.

It doesn't care about you, or your friends.

It might be near, it might be far, but it never starts where you are.

You can't give it away, but maybe give a way away.

WHAT IS IT?

Funny Ideas from Mike

Mike's blog is a funny good time (Funny ha-ha?), and I'd like to borrow from his 'good friggin' picture' idea and share an image here and there. I make no promises for regularity (and I won't promise to share pictures weekly like Mike does, either.) I don't know any cool photogs like Mike does, but Shawna takes/makes some pretty cool pictures. So here they are, copyrighted as usual.

No 'A' for originality here. You'd think my feet are stuck in cement. (Randi, is it 'cement' or 'concrete'? It seems I'm always using the wrong word.) Anyways, Grasshopper, please notice the varying colors of the water and the sky from one picture to the next. The first three pictures were taken all within a few hours. You might say it's one of those gee-whiz things about this great place we live, I guess. Or you might not. And since I haven't been fortunate enough to see a good episode of the northern lights, much less get a picture, these are gonna have to do!

Crazy

Things are getting busy already this summer, but who am I to complain? It just means that I'm a bit tardy in posting.

I had an opportunity to reflect on a rather crazy thing I did once, which of course led me to think of a few more. One was speeding down the highway in a '79 T-bird (the one with the super long nose and vacuum powered headlight covers) but I was using the left shoulder as my own lane. This happened to be on I-94 where the only thing separating East & West was the good ol' concrete barrier, so I was squeezing that T-bird between cars using the proper lane and the concrete wall at 90-100mph. Pretty stoopid.

Stoopidity #2 was for my Senior Prom, and also involved speeding on I-94. (A troubling pattern seems to be forming here.) On this occasion I was driving back to my hometown in a hot new Mazda RX-7 Limited Edition that my brother had purchased just weeks before. The fool loaned it to me for my prom night! Well, the Limited Edition had a souped up engine, and I decided to let the ponies run. In broad daylight. Oh, and it was raining too. Let me just say that at about 140mph the bullet-shaped nose of the RX-7 started to lift quite noticeably.

Speeding (again!) down a country road at night in heavy fog. That was fun zipping into and out of the clouds, watching them flow over the hood of the car and zip up over the windshield. (And this was BEFORE drugs!) Reality came in the form of a large dairy cow standing watch at the edge of the road. Moooooooooo!

Although I'm not a member of the Mile High club, I did make love to a beautiful girl just off the taxi-way at a local airport. This was back when you could just drive your car up to the hangars, which of course meant that you could drive your car anywhere on the airport property you wanted, so we found a nice quiet spot, and yada-yada-yada..... I'm thinking that 9/11 has probably changed that 'access' to the taxiway.

So- What are some of the crazy things you've done? Do you regret any of them?

NERDS!!

Whew! Was I sweating that one out. I've been referred to as a book of worthless trivia, so you can imagine how worried I was over this personality identifier.

I think I should feel good about this, but then I'm conflicted. You see, the connotation is that nerds know many things, most of them not cool things. On the other hand, the beautiful people know many things also. Things like what time 'The Simple Life' is on, and which one is Nicole Richie. One of the guys I work with is your atypical Leisure Suit Larry, for he's pretty cool, but he's a total lech. (He's Man Dibbles from a previous entry.) Today Man Dibbles calls me from his desk, and in a low voice he asks me how to spell a word. Now, I must admit, this word is difficult; for it is used at least three different ways, but pronounced and spelled the same way in all three cases. (What is that? A homonym? Geez, I just Googled 'homonym' and I'm right. Of all the luck, NERD!)

What was the word, you ask? Brace yourself- the magical yet difficult word was:


stool.


I can hear the muted trombones, screeching tires and record needles being dragged as you are reading this, fellow blogger. So let me get this right: Simple Life air times=cool, spell 'stool'=not cool. I'm not nerdy, but I might just be a fool.

I wanna be a rock chick- a.k.a. the daily double

Somehow, I ended up over at immigration and this lady there gave me a test. Damn, the results were interesting, if not encouraging, but they only got me a fast trip back home.

Which Rock Chick Are You?

This got me to thinking that I believe in reincarnation, because I am for damn sure coming back as this hottie, whoever she is. And I'm going to have a lot of fun. You have NO idea!

I don't know how to say her name, either. "Cerys". Is that pronounced "Cherisse"? "Sarees"? "Service"? "Chairviss"? "Cherries"? I feel bad about that. For sure, I must now find out more about this group Catatonia...... Well, that was easy enough! It seems I'm a Welsh ex-pat now hanging my hat in Nashville of all places, working on my second solo album. There's a chance that I've crossed paths with my more-beautiful self last fall. Ah, fate!

So, who are you?

Movie Answers

1. What was the last movie you went to see? I CAN HONESTLY SAY I DON'T REMEMBER, ALTHOUGH I THINK IT WAS LAST FALL, AND I TOOK THE KIDS. I THINK. SLIGHT COMPLICATION OF THE OL' SNOWBOARD INCIDENT OF 2002.

2. What is your all-time favorite movie and why? Did you see it at the theater, or was it a video/DVD? THIS IS A TOUGH ONE,ESPECIALLY BECAUSE THERE ARE SO MANY CATEGORIES OF FAVORITES (FAVORITE WHEN I WAS YOUNG, MODERN-DAY FAVORITE, LOVE, ACTION, FANTASY, ETC.) I'M GOING TO SAY 'THE UNFORGIVEN', IN PART BECAUSE I WANTED TO SAY 'THE GOOD, THE BAD, AND THE UGLY' BUT BECAUSE THE DUBBING IS SO HORRENDOUS I HAD TO GO WITH A MODERN FILM. SPEAKING OF BAD DUBBING, DOES ANYONE KNOW WHERE I CAN GET A COPY OF 'THE ROAD WARRIOR' WITH THE ORIGINAL AUSSIE VOICES, NOT THE AMERICANIZED VOICE-OVERS?

3. What movie stands out in your mind as the one which made you cry the most? 'MY LIFE' STARRING MICHAEL KEATON. HANDS DOWN, NO DOUBT WHATSOEVER, ABSOLUT-LY. SOMEONE I CARED FOR DEEPLY HAD RECENTLY DIED OF CANCER WHEN I SAW THAT. A CLOSE SECOND IS AT THE VERY END OF PHILADELPHIA WHERE THEY SHOW THE OLD HOME MOVIES.

4. What is the funniest movie you've seen? What was your favorite part or line from that movie? ANOTHER DIFFICULT CHOICE, HOW TO CHOOSE BETWEEN FAST TIMES, SIXTEEN CANDLES, S.H.A.B., OFFICE SPACE, CHRISTMAS VACATION, BLAZING SADDLES, OLD SCHOOL? I'M PLACING MY MONEY ON 'THERE'S SOMETHING ABOUT MARY'. I CAN HEAR THE GROANS FROM HERE, BUT 'FUNNY' TO ME IS CHECK-YOUR-BRAIN-AT-THE-DOOR COMEDY, NOT AGATHA CHRISTIE FUNNY; THAT MOVIE WAS HILARIOUS (IF A BIT GROSS) FROM BEGINNING TO END. FAVORITE LINE: "FRANKS AND BEANS!"

5. Is there a movie which changed your opinion on something? What movie was it? YES. 'PHILADELPHIA'.

6. What is the worst movie you've ever paid to see at the theater? THE WORST MOVIE I HAVE EVER SEEN WAS 'WINDTALKERS' A HORRIBLE RE-TELLING OF A SIGNIFICANT PART OF AMERICAN HISTORY. OR, ANOTHER WASTE OF FILM ON NICHOLAS CAGE, THE COPPOLA FAMILY EMBARRASMENT EVER SINCE 'LEAVING LAS VEGAS'. SINCE I WATCHED THAT AT MY BROTHER'S HOUSE IT CAN'T BE MY ANSWER TO THIS QUESTION.

7. Popcorn? Jujifruits? Licorice? Junior Mints? Nachos? or Raisinettes? POPCORN. IT'S MY ONLY VICE LEFT. WELL, FOOD VICE AT LEAST.

8. Have you ever been intimate with someone while watching a movie at the theater? What movie was it the last time? (Please don't say Schindler's List!) Are you still with this person? SURPRISINGLY NO. BUT THERE'S PLENTY LOVELIES OUT THERE, SO YOU'RE SAYING THERE'S STILL A CHANCE!

9. Have you ever screamed while watching a movie or shouted at the screen? What did you say? YES. DURING ROCKY 3 WHEN MR. T IS KICKING BUTT, I THINK I GOT CAUGHT UP IN THE MOMENT AND SAID SOMETHING LIKE 'SOMEBODY KILL THAT GUY'. I WAS YOUNG.

10. Name your favorite movie soundtrack. Can you remember the part of the movie where your favorite song is played?THIS ONE SENT ME INTO AN UNRECOVERABLE SPIN. I ONLY OWN TWO, FAST TIMES AND DANCES WITH WOLVES. WHEN I WAS IN COLLEGE, I THINK I HAD THE LP FOR PRETTY IN PINK BUT THAT'S LONG GONE. ALL THAT BEING SAID, I DON'T THINK I COULD CONSIDER ANY OF THESE MY FAVORITE, BUT I'M NOT ABLE TO THINK OF ONE AFTER ALMOST A WEEK OF TRYING GOOGLING AND PERUSING MOVIE TITLES BY YEAR. I FELT I COULDN'T PUT THIS OFF ANY LONGER. HOW DO YOU SPELL 'ANTI-CLIMACTIC'?

Filming meme

Seen a good movie lately? I haven't been to the theater since, well, lets see...., I know I took the kids to see something last fall. What WAS it? (Another gift of the snowboarding concussion, worsening memory.)

Where was I? Oh, yeah! I was talking about movies. I know that Jason has been to see Star Wars: Episode III, but how about the rest of you out there? I especially say "tag" to Shandi, JL, Buffalo and Shaylen.

1. What was the last movie you went to see?

2. What is your all-time favorite movie and why? Did you see it at the theater, or was it a video/DVD?

3. What movie stands out in your mind as the one which made you cry the most?

4. What is the funniest movie you've seen? What was your favorite part or line from that movie?

5. Is there a movie which changed your opinion on something? What movie was it?

6. What is the worst movie you've ever paid to see at the theater?

7. Popcorn? Jujifruits? Licorice? Junior Mints? Nachos? or Raisinettes?

8. Have you ever been intimate with someone while watching a movie at the theater? What movie was it the last time? (Please don't say Schindler's List!) Are you still with this person?

9. Have you ever screamed while watching a movie or shouted at the screen? What did you say?

10. Name your favorite movie soundtrack. Can you remember the part of the movie where your favorite song is played?

Reflections Remix (feat. Shandi)

The things you see sometimes
Shandi's post on Saturday reminded me that I needed to get this one done. OK, let's see a show of hands: How many of you are red light voyeurs? You know, you're sitting at a red light and check your six, only to find something or someone interesting in the car behind you. Yeah, thaaat's better, I THOUGHT you were!

So, I'm headed cross-town Friday after work to a housewarming party for a co-worker, and two lights into my trip I nonchalantly tip my head back to check out what's behind me. Bingo! There behind me was a nice sporty model with pleasing lines, and the girl driving the Grand Am was rather attractive as well. As I'm wearing shades, I pretend to be taking inventory of my thoughts with my head tipped back so far it gives me a very good view of the lass. 30-ish, nice complexion, luscious straight brunette hair, and she seems to be looking at me.

"Is she on to my game?" I wonder, so I don't move as that's a dead give-away that you just got nailed, you Peeper. It's a rather long light anyway, so I'm afforded the 50 cent extended show and keep my attention fixed on the smoldering flame behind me. Suddenly she tips her head to the right in a brisk snap and inserts her index finger into her ear, digging for gold. After a few cranks the finger is removed. All I can think at this point is "Hmm, interesting." So the horrifying train wreck is on, I can't look away now. I mean, I was remotely enamored after all, but the ear spooning thing raises an eyebrow too.

Now back to her wet-willied pointer, I can only imagine what that must have sounded like as she pulled her finger back out. It must have made a "phlup" sound, because something she harvested had her attention as she was now giving it the once-over with her thumb in the same manner that David Caruso might inspect a substance found at a crime scene. Unable to discern the contents resting under her fingernail, she then resorted to olfactory inspection. Yup, she stuck that finger right under her cute little nose and took a healthy whiff. WHY?! I can see if you're a guy that you might visually check your ear-grinding finger for an errant ear-hair, but for gosh sakes, a beautiful specimen like her must surely maintain her ear canals! Well, no matter, the light turns green so I have to pull away from the light.

After about a block, I notice she's still behind me. "A-ha! She likes the look of Jimmy's Foc-us from the rear!" The game is on! Sure enough, she's positioned right behind me at the next light. Whew! I'm so tired I need to rest my head back again. Let's see what she's doing now.
GAAA! Now she's picking her teeth!!!

With the same finger!!!!!!

And then, she harvested something from between her teeth, inspected it, and evidently found it edible. You know what I mean.

I'm not sure I'm going to be playing my look-at-life-through-a-2-by-8-window game in quite a while. People, learn from my mistakes, please! Some good must come from this travesty.

MMmmememe-meeeee.......

Me been busy for a few days, but anxious to finish homework. Homework kept Me busy for days:

1. Replacing garage door opener: Me up til 4am. I promise, although a bit deliberate in reading instructions and following steps (measure twice, cut once) Me busy entire time. Long story. . .
2. Co-worker has bought her first house, a Lustron home, and had housewarming party Friday night. Me could only go for just over an hour as Wifey and girl-angel went to school camp-out, and boy-angel not allowed. Me and B-A go play mini-golf and eat ice cream. Me fall asleep by 9:30 due to #1 above.
   
3. Saturday was busy helping Wifey's master garden plan by moving wood pile, going to both of my angel's baseball games, then pick up after dog, cut grass, grill yummy dinner, shower, and finally-- go to former co-worker's house for party w/ "the gals".
   

I'm hoping to get my permission slip signed soon.

Shandi was discussing dream themes the other day and the assignment is to reveal dreams relating to 3 categories: erotic, inspiring, and terrifying. I'm assuming we're working with the kind of 'dream' that takes place during R.E.M. sleep and not the daytime wandering-mind fantasy kind. So, here 'goes:

Erotic: There was a recurring one I used to have long ago. She was a beautiful blonde (OK, so I was stereotypical in my youth.) If you've ever seen Kim Basinger in "L.A. Confidential" (before she gets smacked in the face by Russell Crowe's character,) you know what I mean. She was wearing a shimmering gold dress- the strapless kind without sleeves- which appeared to be made from a mylar-type fabric as opposed to one put together with a Ronco Rhinestone and Stud Setter. And man, was it cut just right. If you remember Curly's line in "City Slickers" where he was talking about The One with the sun behind her showing the "shape that God had given her," you know what I mean. This wasn't some kind of tawdry bar-whore dress, either (well, maybe from the waist up;) it was full length and didn't reveal the slightest bit of cleavage. I don't remember that there was even a slit on the side, so I don't know how the poor thing could have walked in the damn thing. Come to think of it, I'm not sure that she walked or even had feet. I just remember that wonderful dress, her wholesome face and being incredibly turned-on by her shoulders (the only part which was naked) and how her body looked in that dress (the other parts I wanted naked. I think I'm self-analyzing here...)

The confusing part is where this takes place: in a field next to a school near my boyhood home. The field had a football field in a bowl on one end and a baseball diamond way down on the other. For some strange reason our meeting takes place on the plateau above the football field. There are no words spoken in this dream, just an extended, hold-on-for-dear-life embrace and a good old-fashioned kiss.


Inspring: Not a lot of detail here as I can't recall any specific ones, or at least there aren't any recurring dreams burned into memory. In general, I think there's a cornucopia of dreams where I play the part of Hero. There are other dreams where I can soar like a bird or a jet-plane, but I'm convinced those took place when I was falling out of bed. On the other hand, Kim Basinger in that gold dress is pretty inspiring, too.


Terrifying: Hold on to your butts, folks! This one was common during many years of my youth. Like Shandi's dream, the first thing I can remember is that I'm running in the woods. Now, I loved being in the woods, but not this time. I'm not sure I can call it woods, it was more like a dark forest. The kind of place were you can't see much other than what's directly in front of you, or the golden eyes of your garden-variety evil creature lurking in the distance. And 'running' probably isn't the best way to describe it, maybe 'scrambling' or 'clambering' is better. I just know that I wanted to get away, and fast because something was after me and it wasn't good. I'm trying as hard as I can to sprint, the kind of exertion where you FEEL the perspiration taking place, but the image I see is slow-motion. It's as if I was running in place on marbles, but when I look down there's nothing but good old terra-firma. (Noteworthy: it's a well-worn path of firmly-packed earth in an otherwise lush environment. I've been here many times.)

I can hear myself breathing, and it's frantic. Not the low tones of someone enjoying their time in the hundred acre wood, but the higher pitch one hears when having difficulty breathing either due to asthma or because a big sibling is sitting on their chest. I hear my heart beating in my eardrums. I can hear footsteps too, but they're not mine because even though I'm running as fast as I can I'm not moving. The footsteps come in rapid clusters ta-da-thwip, ta-da-thwip, ta-da-thwip. The kind only a four-legged creature can make at full gallop, and it's gaining on me. I can hear it breathing; it's panting, but not laboring. It's more like a locomotive out for a Sunday cruise. Closer now, I can feel the tropic breath on my heels and I turn to see what's behind me. Oh no, God no! It's The Wolf. Run! Run faster! You can't let it get you, it will surely kill you. Didn't you see what that wolf did to Old Yeller?!

I'm pumping my arms so fast they are just a blur now, but so is the forest. It's blurring into a dark tunnel, am I about to make the jump to hyperspace? Am I blacking out? I'M STILL NOT MOVING! It's gotta' be close enough to pounce on my back, it's growling the quickening growl of anticipation. I check behind me one more time but something has grabbed my left foot. No, something has stopped my left foot because I'm falling to the ground. It's a gnarled tree root from a towering oak next to the path, even Nature has turned against me. All the air leaves my lungs with a groan when I hit the ground. For some reason, I turn over because you HAVE to watch when the train wrecks, don't you? I'm shackled by the tree root, there will be no escape. The Wolf lands on me with a perfect 4-point touchdown, its forelegs squarely on my shoulders. Pausing only to raise its hackels, snarl, and expose it's fangs; it lunges at my neck. I can only turn my head, close my eyes, and scream for all I'm worth. The wide-mouthed scream where all the veins and tendons pop out of your neck, just like in Pink Floyd's "The Wall". But no sound comes out, there's just darkness. Darkness, and a fan running on Hi, and I can't move because I'm afraid to open my eyes. I'm cold because the perspiration's doing its job, and the fan's in the window doing its job at the same time; drawing in the dewy night air and blowing it across my still, frozen body. My clenched fists hold bed sheets and mattress, if my toes were longer they would too. Minutes pass as I gather my wits and tune my senses to mentally take inventory, for I have to keep playing dead or it will attack again. My jaw hurts because I'm clenching my teeth. I don't feel blood dripping down my neck. My legs are cold, so they must still be there. My breathing is shallow, almost quivering, I hope it doesn't give me away. The air moving across my body is heavy and wet, but cool. Maybe the beast is withdrawing, but I can't hear it breathing because of the fan. Many times they play with their prey before devouring it, right? It could be sitting over in the shadows waiting for me to move. I strain to slowly raise only my right eyelid for that is closest to the ground and must be in the shadows. I can see my closet, I can feel my fan blowing cold air across my body, I can feel my bed, I'm still alive, this HAD to be a dream. But I've been here before.

I was terrified of dogs, either due to this dream or I had this dream because of my fear of dogs.

Haloscan commenting and trackback have been added to this blog. Yes, friends; I'm afraid that I've inadvertently deleted your comments in my exuberant rush to have Haloscan controlled comments that include date and time. Call me blog-newbie, go ahead and say it. Blog-doofus, Blog-noramus, Blog-ago in a land far, far away. . . .

Get Me To the Church on Time

What a whirlwind weekend I had, my buddy got married! After all this time, and a few near-Mrs., he finally gets the girl. I couldn't be happier for them.


THURS / FRI
It all started with the rehearsal on Thursday followed by tux fitting on Friday. The rehearsal went smoothly, except Bridesmaid #4 hadn't arrived until the good Father had all of us lined-up for the entrances. Then #4 arrived, or should I say spilled into the aisle, plodding towards Bridey. "I'm ssssooooo hhhaaaap-eeeee!" The poor thing recently turned 21 and evidently is still diligently practicing her drunken diction. Needs work.

Luckily, most thought she was just a bubbly girl overcome with emotion, rather than emotionally disturbed overcome by bubbly. The evening was topped-off by the restaurant screwing-up the bride's order. After that, a good time was had by all.

The tux fitting could have been better, this tux shop is small-town and run by mama. Evidently mama can't double-check anything. I'm a 48 long jacket, and I put the coat on and thought it to be comfortably roomy until I tried to button the thing.

Heh-heh! What a sense of humor those folks at After Hours Tuxedos have, sending a good ol' 54 for me. A touch huge. Then, to boot, the vest was cartoonishly large. A whopping 2XL. Mama pulls out the measurements which were faxed to her, and there by the jacket my 48 is crossed off and 54 is written in its place. Mysterious, no?

SATURDAY, THE BIG ONE
Thanks to After Hours Tuxedos (as well as a thoroughly disappointing rental shop,) a return trip on the day of the wedding is in order. This is after a traditional round of golf is squeezed into the morning, plus the 1 hour round trip, not to mention dropping Groomsman# 4 back at his mother's house so he can then gather his family to head for the hotel where the Groom's party is to meet. On my way to the hotel I grab lunch and gas up, because I'm not quite pressed enough for time.

Wouldn't you know it, everything Saturday went flawlessly!

They kissed!


They toasted!


They're not gay! Here comes the happy couple. . .


Now that that's outta the way, after the reception ended things got a bit out of hand. It seems the hotel lounge was having some sort of "Parrot-head" party, complete with a Buffett-esque band playing beach tunes and swim toys. Don't ask.



As always, a happy ending!

DISMISSED!

Heard at the office today:

Girl behind me: Does anybody have an old computer keyboard at home I can have?

Girl next to me: Oh! I have one in the back of my car! Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! I don't have the computer, ha-ha-ha, I just have the keyboard!

Girl behind me: That would be great! I spilled a cup of coffee on mine at home, and I've been trying to work with just the mouse. You don't know how hard it is to be on the internet and just copying/pasting to get the letters for an address. It took me forever.

Girl next to me: I can't believe that I just have the keyboard in the back of my car. Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha, I'm such a freak!


Why me, Lord? I'm trapped between these two vidiots, nearly every morning they waste at least 1/2 hour discussing last night's talent show or reality series. It's maddening, I tell ya! Girl next to me also has many aliases: Drama Queen, Trailer Trash, Know-it-All, Control Freak, Anything You Can Do I Can Do Betty, and my personal favorite: Barracuda. She can talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and talk until you pass out, and she'll keep right on going. No joke! She even talks to herself, a-lot. That's not including the mumbling (think 'The Hamburglar', but then juice the boy up on mega quantities of coffee.)

I imagine my life at the office is much like the poor saps in the movie "The Saw". I get up to leave for a few minutes, you know, "go for a walk." Still, I can't get away from her, she's managed to end-up in the same place.

God is a cruel, cruel being. Some days I lose the will to live.

Things that make you go 'Hmm'

I was reading Barton's blog today and his entry reminded me of something which happened last week (like I said,I'm still a beginner.)

Anywho- we were on a business trip to a smaller town in Missouri, complete with factories, a town square surrounding the courthouse, and a state college!
Population: 10,000.

Now, being prone to quick judgments (and living in a city of 200,000+) one immediately thinks 'Nashville Star' as opposed to 'MTV's Cribs'. I mean, after all, society has trained us that 'small town' = 'Walmart' while 'Big City' = 'DKNY', right? My point being: that you wouldn't expect to find 'Club Scene'-- even Rural America's version of 'Club Scene' --in this place. 10 gallon hats and day/night cowboy boots, maybe. Country music, definitely.

The kicker about this little hamlet is there's not one, but three bars playing urban faves. Two of 'em are complete with DJ's and hangers-on, of all things. You've got all the 'Big City' treatments: doormen (who also know how to slaughter meat, bale hay, etc.,) cover charges, ladies nights, beautiful people, Red Bull,vodka and Jäger Bombs. It's almost surreal: walk out of the watering hole on the corner (replete with stainless steel piss troughs, shuffleboard, pool table and plenty of beer)and walk next-door where you enter through a darkened tunnel into a thumping, pulsating, sweaty mess. But when you wake up and look out that motel window it's back to the rolling, windy prairie.

So, my work mate is quite a toned fella, master playa, OTH 5 nights a week keeping his liver in fighting shape. He lives to party, and does it well. Let's call him Man Dibbles, or MD for short. We were quite tipsy by 11, having had an extremely early 3-hour dinner with the higher-ups (who we promptly ditched just after arriving at the motel.) At about that level of inebriation, MD gets into ho-dar mode and stealthily circles the perimeter of the dance floor, searching for a lockable target. I usually am leaning by this point, observing the master at work.

On this particular evening I saw something which I had never seen before: a quite-openly gay lad. Of course, the girls he was there with were drop-dead gorgeous so MD was lurking in the shadows, focusing ho-dar beams in their direction. At some point I look over at MD and there's QOGL talking to him like they're old pals. "Hmmm" I says to myself. "This ought to be interesting."

In no uncertain terms, I could never have imagined that their conversation would go on for so long. When it finally ended, curiosity got the better of me and I just HAD to know. It turns out that QOGL wanted to know if MD was there with me. ME! Like I was MD's bitch or something. QOGL wouldn't take 'NO' for an answer, either. He was quite the persistant fellow; I was waving the golden-ringed left hand in front of him/her and shouting "I'm married!!!" QOGL was undeterred at first, but my will was strong and eventually QOGL got the hint.

It was hil-f'ing-arious, so funny that when the ladies finally showed up (they took a very late flight,) we had to share the entire story with them during the afterglow back at MD's room. It was repeated in detailed fashion, and unfortunately these ladies don't keep secrets. (Clueless man-question: Do they ever?) By the time we arrived at the factory office the next morning, the story of QOGL had flashed through at a speed heretofore unseen outside of wildfire season during the Santa Ana winds. We were the butt of many, many good-natured ribbings that day. I guess ya' had to be there.

Good Times, good friends.