Upon a Midnight clear

Damn, those company Christmas parties.

This year, I went to my company's party stag as Wifey was not feeling real well after fighting the CRUD for over a week. All told, the party was a great time. It was on a private floor of this multi- level drunk-plex, so when it came time to shut it down we could just go to one of the other levels. There were almost 20 of us having a great time so we kep-it-goin downstairs.

I was pimped-out pretty well in black on black (it's slimming, right?) with a deep gold shirt under the camel hair jacket. So I'm talking to a cohort from another division, drink in my right hand where it usually is, left hand in my pocket (where it usually is if I'm talking to someone on my left) and as I agree with what he's saying my head is nodding. I may have been nodding emphatically as a result of a good bass track thumping at the same time. Anywho- down the stairs comes this cougar (you know, she's on the prowl and looking for a fleshy target...) and as we were near the stairs I glanced in that general direction, my head still a-bobbing in the "yup, yer right, I hear ya" mode. The cougar says something indistinguishable- it might have been a warning, I couldn't see if her ears were back or not due to the seriously spiked 'do- and then she pounces, grabbing my arm and tearing my left hand outta it's resting place.

"YOU'RE MARRIED!!" the cougar screams. Yes, I am. Was this some sort of guessing game? Should I blurt out that she's divorced and dropped her kids off at the laundramat? Nah, that would spoil all the fun I think she had envisioned. So instead, I just asked if she was doing a poll or something. "You were trying to hook-up and you're married!" she screamed again. Oh- NOW I get it. A guy nodding means he's trying to screw you with his eyes. Wow, dating must be really hard nowadays. So I fight the cougar off and it scampers into the bushes to use the loo.

The cohort and I finish our conversation and maybe 5 minutes later the cougar springs unsuspectingly from the rocky ledge she must be walking nowadays, circling her prey. "I didn't mean to scare you" she purrs. "It's just you're the best looking guy here and you were nodding at me," she continues. [I need to clarify something for you folks: this place holds 1,500 people easy. There's 4 or 5 places to eat, most of which become some sort of nightclub. I'm on the high end of the age brackets present, my six-pack is usually in the fridge, there's NO way she's mistaking me for someone THAT good looking. But thanks for the positive stroke nonetheless.] The cougar is still circling distantly, both implying disinterest and looking for that one wrong move so she can strike again, hoping to fell her prey. "So can you dance?" This purr sounded breathy, but maybe I'm slurring her speech. Anyway, I tell her yeah, but I'm no good at it.

Apparently, that's what cougars prefer, as this one latched onto my wrist and dragged me out to the dimly lit dance floor. There also must be a specific way to dance with a cougar, cuz this one left no question as to where my hands were supposed to be: firmly planted on her ASS! Are you kidding me?! Where was this species of wild game back when I was in college? If that's not bad enough, when you lift your hand from a cougar's ass it uses its lightning-fast reflexes to bat your hand back onto its ass. Through all this uncomfortable time, I WAS able to find out that the cougar's got kids the same ages as mine (I still had to resist the urge to ask her what laundramat she dropped them off at, though!) As hints weren't striking their target, I distracted the cougar with the ol' "Coworker, five o-clock" warning. It worked perfectly: the cougar spun 180 to protect her booty- er, prey. Released from my bonds, my hands and I bounded back to the herd.


Now I know why the male members of the species are prone to that "I don't see nuthin' " gaze just above the heads of the crowd. I think it's got something to do with avoiding eye contact or playing dead or sumthin'. So fellas, protect yourselves. Never go to the watering hole alone, all eyes are on you. I'm one of the lucky ones- this rabid animal not only attacked prey in a crowd but she also attacked in the light. I learned from watching "Old Yeller" when I was a kid that only rabid animals will attack prey that's in the light of a fire or daylight.

Still counting my blessings-

Today's message

A pretty creative advertisement from the folks at Hobby Lobby. Have a great day, all!

Suicide just sucks, people!

Jazzy Jen sums it up best: horrible. I'm talking about the tragic suicide in the family of Indianapolis Colts head coach Tony Dungy, his own son! I can't imagine the pain they must be in. I grew up in the same town as Tony but never knew him as he was about 8 years older than I. My brother played against him in high school and I can only remember that he said he was quick. I remember how proud of him the town was as he moved into the college and professional levels. Tony was somewhat of a hero to me, such a successful person coming from my blue collar town; a town left behind by the auto industry. He was one of those few bright spots I recall growing up. It really is so sad that this kind of thing has happened to such a great person. Jen also posted this link to a well-written article on ESPN.com.

****************************************************
I know that many of you have been touched by suicide's suffocating tentacles at some point in your lives. If not, please count your blessings and then count them again because you are truly lucky. The anguish, doubt and rage you experience have few equals. I've lost more than I care to ever count: a good family friend, a woman I loved, and I nearly lost my sister, too. There were others I knew from high school but were not necessarily close to; each was one too many. Thankfully, I was spared the most grisly facets of their deaths as they did not occur when I was nearby; however the pain of not being able to pay my respects and mourn with the support of others affected by each loss will remain forever.

I am thankful, too, that I had 5 minutes to kneel beside, pray for, cry, and, well - SEE Mick's face one more time. I could not attend his funeral as my brother had literally JUST entered recovery that week, and my employer at that time would only allow me one day off. As much as it pained me to "abandon" their family at such a disastrous time, I felt that it would be better to be there for my brother, his life could still be saved. My family and Mick's were very close; our parents were the equivalent of "best friends" when you're in elementary school, so I knew him well. We were the same age, went to the same schools, and spent weeks during the summer at their cottage on Lake Michigan. The shadow of mental illness slowly set-upon Mick after his father died when we were in the 10th grade, and through the next 6 years it marched- growing steadily and without quarter- until his life ended that Friday in June.

I was in Albany visiting my fiance' that weekend, and clearly remember my Mom's voice- the hesitation and deep breath she took to brace herself- when she called to give me the news. I had heard that only once before when my couin's first child died from SIDS just minutes after he dropped him off at their daycare. "What's wrong?" I asked as I braced myself. Being locked into an arline itinerary, my only chance for visitation was Sunday evening after my flight got back. I was practically psychotic after my flight arrived early in the evening, I still had to get a taxi to my car, and then drive the 80 minutes back to our hometown.

I arrived in the fading twilight as the last family members were leaving and the director was actually locking-up for the night. I don't really remember parking my car, or closing the door, or even turning it off. I can only clearly remember hugging his sister and falling apart from the explosion of emotion and the thought of not arriving in time. Even after being allowed inside for a few minutes, . . . just not how I wanted to say goodbye.

Mick is buried in a rolling cemetary near where his father is also buried in a quiet corner under majestic old pines. When the wind moves through the trees it sounds as though the spirits are murmuring, yet I can't for the life of me make out their message.

****************************************************
I found out about Karan's death when I returned to college to start my second year. We had met and briefly dated the April before as the school year was finishing. Our plans for the summer took us in separate directions so things ended amicably enough. I ran into her roommate from the previous term and asked about Karan and was met with a simple "She didn't come back." I knew Karan was having a hard go of things that previous term so I just put it in my mind that she dropped out, another one shaken loose from the tree of higher learning. I was not prepared for the news her ex-roomie gave me later that night after she pulled me aside, telling me that there was something she wanted to tell me that afternoon but didn't feel it was the best setting. (Yeah, somehow it was better to pull me aside and break it to me easy when I'm half in the bag, and alone in the dark.) I can't be bitter though, she was very deliberate in not telling me that afternoon and I really can't imagine how heavy the burden of knowing what she did must have been. Poor timing aside, the flood of emotion she released by telling me was just plain huge.

I feel bad that I didn't know her family, that I've never made the time when I drive by her hometown to stop at the library and get the details about where they laid her to rest so I can visit and pay my respects, that the pain in her life was so great that she put the car in the garage and let it carry her to a better place, that her family didn't put an obituary in the paper so her friends could say goodbye, that THAT better place was where no one could ever see her again, that I could never see her again, hold her again, be intoxicated by her presence again, talk til a new day dawned again. Never, again.

Although there are many signs of trouble in someone's life, one of the hardest things to accept is that the average Jim, Jane and Jerry are not trained to see them and often NOBODY sees it coming, and that it is not their fault when someone they love attempts or commits suicide. You learn from it, but you can't let it kill you too because it is what they wanted, and they take careful steps to succeed. Often those that don't are crying out in pain. Before he died, Mick made a number of phone calls to various people, one to my brother asking if they could meet for lunch. Unfortunately he was unable to meet with Mick that day, and Mick died that night. Again- there was no way to see that Mick was saying goodbye, but it haunts my brother still.

Let those that you love KNOW it, help those that need it, respect those that are suffering from mental illness and learn more about it to help reduce the stigma and the shame.

Flippin Idiots

I am a candidate for Road Rage Class.

The scene: Saturday, 6pm. I'm late for the company Christmas party, Wifey was a late dropout due to the CRUD from hell still lingering so I was behind the 8-ball after calling the sitter to cancel (Wifey's choice, really!) So, I'm driving these city streets a bit fast, and come up behind a Chevy Abortion van (some call it the Astro, but have you ever ridden shotgun in the damn thing? WHERE does your right foot go?)

Anyway, the Chevy is doing 25, tic-toc-tic-toc I'm going nuts, but the thing shows me the light of day as it angles to the right curb while approaches a corner. "Ahhhh, finally the bugger's gonna make a right and get outta my way" I think to myself as I ease a bit left to clear its back bumper. Then, just as my car noses past his back bumper I see the left tail-light blink and the fecker's car is edging- no, turning- left, HARD!

Oh no you don't! Keep edging left and lay on the horn (the road was slippery with lake-effect grease, there was no way I would have been able to stop.) So, after I get my car under control I see in my mirror he's wiggling a bit, stops for a moment, and then hits the brights and guns after me. That's all I need.

He comes right up on me, flashes, etc., and tails me for a few miles. Really, what did he hope to accomplish? Lesson learned: give the ghetto cruiser plenty of time to make up his meth-head mind and stay back, WAY back.

Drive safe, all.

Peace~

KUDOS, MENUDOS

Gotta give props to the GVSU Football and Volleyball teams, capturing Division II National Championships on consecutive Saturdays. The ladies went to the hostile confines of Kearney, NE last weekend and beat the #1 ranked Nebraska-Kearney team on their home court. Not to be outdone, the men followed-up this weekend by winning the National crown for the 3rd time in 4 years, besting Northwest Missouri State by a score of 21-17.

Both Wifey and I earned our degrees from Grand Valley, and it's amazing to see this school progress from what was a 5,000 student population back in tha day (ok, late 80's for those counting) to a burgeoning student body somewhere north of 23,000 today. They say they want to stay in Division II, but I'm beginning to wonder what the NCAA has to say about that relative to the student population.



KUDOS ALSO TO THE BEARCATS OF NORTHWEST MISSOURI-----

Those guys played a great game. I honestly think they outplayed GVSU, especially when you consider that their student body is half the size of GVSU's (but GVSU has a large graduate program as well as regional campuses.) NWMSU barely made the playoffs with a record of 6-3, and then opened up a six-pack of whup-ass as they pounded their way through Division II's playoff bracket (who needs a BCS, anyway?) This team was inspired, and played all-out straight on football with awesome running, passing, catches and big-league hits that made me cringe from the comfort of the cushy furniture at my brother's house (great job hosting, bro'!)

The Bearcats fell just short, dropping a go-ahead touchdown pass in the end-zone and then two plays later completing a pass to the 4 yard line as time thankfully ran out. I think winning meant more to the Bearcats as they had tasted the National Championship twice before in 1998 and 1999; their vengeful march through their playoff bracket a strong testament to their capabilities. I almost feel that the Lakers 'escaped' with a victory, and would like for them to play for the National Championship again in 2006 to settle the matter. As the seniors on each team would no longer be there it wouldn't be the same, but you know what I mean.

So congrats to the Bearcats, they done good this year. And, I finally was able to see my alma mater take 'em on after a couple of near-misses. To next year: huzzah!

Picture time

Today's post is motivated by Tiffany. Visit, and often.

Her assignment was to post a picture from your youth. I just happened across some a few days ago, so this one was easy. Here goes. . . . . . .




Handsome l'il devil, huh? Look at the stylish, Metrosexual turtleneck and hairstyle. What a hottie!!

Season's Greetings and Happy Holidays to all.

Thanksgiving?! What Thanksgiving?

So yeah, it snowed like the bajeezus on Thanksgiving. Got the kiddies all worked-up into a frenzy, building snow bunkers under European Horn Bean trees (STILL holding onto all their leaves! Wretched Europeans. . . . . . ) the Christmas tree assembled and decorated, outdoor trimmings installed, and good behavior oooozing from their pores. The l'il cherubs!

This evening, under balmy springtime temps (you should see the weather man's color bars indicating the 40 degree drop in temps between here and Minnesota,) all the snow has melted except a few of the bumps which WERE the protective walls of the "West Side" bunkers. There's no sign of the "East Side" bunkers across the street, I think they scrammed under cover of night. . . .


Hey!

Did'ja hear??? Dumb-ass Matt Millen spackled another layer of Desitin on his whiney-hiney and fired Mariucci. Gotta love the fine folks in the Ford family for giving that bloated dork a 5 YEAR extension on his contract. (For the liberals out there who might be sports challenged, Millen is the equivalent of a fat George W.) Unbelievable. It's time for Old Man Bill to end our suffering and park his car in the garage with the engine running while talking strategy with Millen about how to build the perfect submarine sandwich.

Of course, to make it up to the Ford family, I have to give credit where credit is due. Have you seen this car?

Love it. Lovett? LUV. IT.

Of course, purchasing one would go against my self-proclaimed pragmatism whereby I WILL NOT purchase another new car. In my defense, we've outgrown the Focus. Yep, absolutely outgrown it. No way that little car can possibly meet our needs any more. Nope, gotta pull a Jefferson and move on up. Sometime.

So them's my bumps. See y'all down the road, Jack!

Open your mind

Checking-up on Storm's vaca, and she reports that she done went to a sooth-sayer. You know, a seer, diviner, prophetess, clairvoyant, medium, (ok- that's pushing it a bit. Did you see her picture?? No? Check again. Gaze into those eyes and I'm butta', I tell ya!) mind reader, mitt reader, oracle. Ya got guts, Storm (that's sisu to you Finns oot dere in da UP.) No, check that. Cojones.

I mean, that's like letting someone rifle through your underwear drawer. There's just too much for them to find out. (I'm talking about mine, not yours. You know what I mean. I hope.) Not even most trusted friends have access there, let alone a master mind-bender.

I've had 3 brushes with Clare Voyant, and it was like The Three Bears: this one's too hot, this one's too cold, and this one's juuuuust right. Please, I beg you, allow me to put it in bruinilogical order for you.

Scene 1- Cut to 1992, young DINNKs (double income, no kids) being jetted to glitzy, glorious Merrilville, IN so Wifey can interview with large conglomerate. Jimmy was out of sorts on this trip, a fish out of water. First of all, I had to swallow my pride; this would make our life "unconventional" in the Ward and June Cleaver sense of things. Next thing hard to shake was that feeling that Mitchell McDeere had in The Firm when he started to pick up on how the firm does everything for you (and this was BEFORE the movie came out.) While Wifey interviewed and tested, they had a realtor drive me around to see some areas (Valpo was nice), and a feeling of dread came over me when I saw something: a gated community. Things started clicking in my mind about something I had heard from a coworker who hit the fleece markets in Northern Indiana quite a bit, something about a pretty heavy supremacist area nearby, complete with their own "force". The guard shack at the gate definitely gave you the creeps. After I got back to the hotel, I needed to veg- but didn't want to hang in the room (THEY might be watching!) SO- wandering the lobby I come across a lady who interprets your handwriting. I will just say that it was pretty frightening how quick she was. But I will admit to not having a game-face on like Storm did. I don't play Texas Hold-em, for a very good reason.


Scene 2- Same DINNKs are in Chicago for a baseball weekend with mucho amigos. Doing the pub crawl from Wrigley Field back to Lincoln Park, we start hitting the pubs on Halstead and wander into the Corner Pocket. As luck would have it, just before we got there there was a fortune teller working a folding table at the corner. The girls saw it, and you could tell the train-wreck was on. We weren't in the pub for 5 minutes and they were pacing like a Yorkie on a windowsill hearing the faucet running after drinking a bottled water. It was killing them, so off they went. 20 minutes later they're back. And they're not talking. 2 of them got the bad news that "they're not the one". Wifey was told of our reproductive future. 1-2-3 I'm Out!


Scene 3- We're in college, so we're not DINNKs yet. Campus Life has a funnier-than-shit comedian/hypnotist in to work his magic on a Thursday night (I think his name was Tom DeLuca. If so, props to Tom!) I'd been hypnotized before, and needed no convincing of its capabilities. It's extremely powerful. But to see what he could do to those poor unsuspecting folks, how he could make them think they're completely naked up on stage at the mere utterance of a single word, or that they've caught the biggest marlin ever and they've got to reel. it. in. with. all. their. might. Mmm-mm. Nope. I'll just do some mescaline if I want to have my mind outta my body like that.

So that's the hot, cold, and juuuust right of it. The bad and the ugly was back in high school after a good family friend died when I was in 10th grade. Some time later, I heard that one of his daughters had been to a card reader months before he died and Clare Voyant flipped a death card or some Yu-gi-oh super power card like that. The card stopped her cold, she had a vision that she could see her with her sisters looking down and crying, and it seemed that they were kneeling.

He died of a massive heart-attack on the dance floor at a daughter's wedding. The family has been nearly destroyed since that time: suicide, drunkicide, etc. I wonder, what else did she see? Did she tell her everything? Did she see that his own brother would steal everything from their firm and leave his sister-in-law a pauper, with two still in school? Or did she see death's grip in his own family's future and remain silent, perhaps with the crooked grin seen on so many gypsy's faces in bad movies through the years?

For certain, I will never know. I'm still sorting issues, folding them neatly, and tucking them away in my underwear drawer.

In a BlogFog, and I can't find my dog

Wow, am I tardy. It's been what, two and a half weeks? During which time I've served myself heaping portions of all y'alls updates and gotten long in the tooth with my comments, but just couldn't come up with the time to git-r-dunne myself. It's like this: I'm tired. (My mind immediately shifts gears and I'm picturing Madeline Khan in a hot little number complaining about the thousands of men- again and again -all the coming and going, going and coming. . . [ let's face it, I'm tired.] She did that role so well. I miss her.)

SNAP! Back to reality- Things are piling up, had mucho travel in September/October/now, which means work piles up in the office and at home, Wifey and I were both gone last week (although Grandma of course attacked the laundry demon growling behind the pocket door, thanks Ma,) it's the busy season now so piles grow quicker than you can imagine, P-T conferences were today, Wifey's going "shopping" this weekend with the girls-in-laws, Good Buddy's moving, Li'l Bro's building a house, the Sibling Syndicate is debating when to have the family get-together for Christmas, AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUGGGHHHHHHHHH!

I'M JUST LIKE YOU PEOPLE!!! (Most of you, anyways. Except I'm not quite as pre-occupied about sex as some of you seem to be. I am giving HNT some thought though. But that's all. Nothing more. Feel free to keep writing your stuff though, I think I'm going to learn a thing or three. Just don't stop. Just don't. Don't stop. )

So, the pic above is fog rolling-in along the shores of the Holy Water. Apologies for it being shot through the window screen, but it was damn damp outside at the time. I thought of it immediately when the word "fog" came to mind for this post's title.

CANCER-LIKE UPDATES
Brave Little Niece continues to do well, and is just now getting out of the wheelchair. I still can't believe they don't put casts on kids for this kind of injury, especially with them removing material from the tumor and the cyst. The leg just can't be that strong with all that bone excavated out. She is a trooper, though.

The bad news is a co-worker's son will now have to have his leg amputated. He had a bout with bone cancer, had treatments and a section removed, surgery to put a steel shaft in its place, grueling PT to get used to the thing, and now the leg is basically dead. Little circulation, no feeling, and prone to serious infection. Thankfully, there is still no sign of cancer, but geez! How much more can they take? Stay strong-

OFFICE CHAT, 'N SHIT
I just love our new IM at the office. I didn't think I would, but recently I spent a day at home and brought work with me. It's lengthy, but hey, you've stayed with me this long. The beginning is clipped off (I had to jump from a 2 person to 5 person session). . .

ME/... (Imagine Beavis&Butt-head voice)
Hm-hm-hm ha-ha. You said "hard", heh-heh-heh. you're 5
minutes too late.
ME/...
ME/... Is there anybody out there?
G #1/... where to busy laughing
G #1/... do you like my grammer!
ME/... Yeah, and your grammar's good too!
G #1/... I give up! I'm going back to the first grade.
BOSS LADY/... james james, what are you doing?
ME/... I've never met your Grammer. Is she nice? Wifey's
Granny was a terrific person, I bet your Grammer is too.
ME/... What do you mean, BOSS LADY?
G #2/... OK off the subject, So jimmy, if you get your work
done in the growler before 4, are you going to take the
offsppring in?
BOSS LADY/... you took the day off just so you could email and i/m?
ME/... Did [Vampiress] show up with the proper bagelage?
G #1/... Yes...[Vampiress] know's how to makes us happy!
ME/... No, I doubt I will bring the kids in. First, Girl M
doesn't get out until 3:50 or so. Then, how to go all the way
home and then be back at the CAN-tina in time for FORMER CO-WORKER's
send-off?
G #2/... what;s taking you so long jimmy?
ME/... Growler masterpieces can't be rushed, G #2.
G #2/... are you going to take a picture?
ME/... you know I don't work well under pressure
G #3/... What's this about the brown trout?
ME/... Picture??? I didn't know you cared. Maybe I can
work up another masterpiece and send a pic later
G #3/... Are the kids in the pool yet?
ME/... I sent the li'l bastards up the river.
G #3/... Ah, the magic of technology.
ME/... So glad you joined the party G #3
G #3/... I'll here for ya.
ME/... Has she seen all the earlier messages?
G #3/... No. Sniff...
G #1/... that's o.k. she doesn't need to bother.
G #3/... I think I know what the topic is....
ME/... G #1's being a party "pooper"
G #3/... ...one of my favorite.
BOSS LADY/... it's like a regular friday around here. james
might not be here physically, but in spirit. No, I don't think
she can see past notes, only what is typed after she gets here.
funny she knew what we were talking about.
G #3/... s.
ME/... h
ME/... i
G #3/... i
ME/... t
G #3/... t
BOSS LADY/... grammer again
ME/... quit reading my mind
G #1/... leave me alone!!
G #3/... OK. Back to the main topic....Plop
plop....fizz...fizz..oh what a relief it is...
ME/... yes, very refreshing
G #3/... So did you dress up as a BROWN M & M today?
BOSS LADY/... is Wifey home?
ME/... nope x 2
G #3/... p
G #3/... a
G #3/... r
G #3/...
G #3/... t
G #3/... a
G #3/... y
ME/... woo-hoo!
BOSS LADY/... have you started drinking yet?
G #3/... Yes, I have. Thanks for asking.
G #1/... We thought it would be fun to start in the office, but
didn't think it was a good idea with the kiddies coming in.
ME/... What shows do you guys need updates on, I can give you
the play-by-play
G #1/... What happened on Dr. Phil?
BOSS LADY/... oprah too.
G #2/... I have to stay for the kiddie haloween party clean
up . bah.
ME/... I dunno. Ellen, Montel, or Maury. A rerun of The Nanny
is on also. (nasal laugh goes here)
ME/... boot the brats out at 5!
BOSS LADY/... work question here james, do you want me to tell
[HQ] to keep the [customer] spec?
ME/... Ummmmmm. . . . yes, for now. They're still selling the
things.
G #2/... wokr? Jimmy's on vacay right now. give the guy a
break.
BOSS LADY/... okay, now, back to booting out the brats.
seriously, that needs to end at 4:30
ME/... Ooooooh! Maury's got Disturbing Paternity Test Results.
Looks like a winner!
G #3/... Yet another reason not to be on the Activities
Committee...G #2, you gotta resign...soon.
G #2/... Give examples. any alien fathers?
ME/... hang on, waiting for the damn colortyme comercial to end.
BOSS LADY/... or was the father really the uncle?
G #1/... better yet the brother
G #2/... Oh- you don't need to give me reasons not to be on
the committee. I m well aware of them, and I'll be retirirng at
the end of the year.
ME/... That's "better", G #1? You've been up in [PODUNK] too long. . . .
G #1/... I hate this thing. I want spell check added.
G #2/... oh - but deciphering is half of the fun
ME/... 3 months ago Sharnita's life fell apart. Today, she's
100% sure that Alfonzo's the father.
BOSS LADY/... and? is she correct?
G #2/... oh dear. how's alfonzo taking it?
ME/... c'mon, you know we'll have to wait until the end for the
answer.
ME/... Alfonzo's thuggin'
G #1/... Any hitting or climbing over chairs yet
G #2/... slow down guys - BOSS LADY needs to eat
G #3/... James, let us know when there is a commercial so we
can go and smoke. Thanks.
G #3/... I NEED A SMOKE.
ME/... 'Fonzo sez she cheated on him. Well, he's more like
yelling. "I aint no foo! I. AM. GONE!"
BOSS LADY/... did he leave?
G #2/... so are you letting us smoke?
G #2/... and eat?
BOSS LADY/... i'm going anyway.
ME/... "even if this child is mine, that means he was 'hittin'
it' at the same time!"
ME/... Sharnita's turned her back on him. It's getting edgy.
I can't watch.
G #3/... We'll be right back James. Be strong.
ME/... OH WAIT!
BOSS LADY/... the other guy is there, right?
G #3/... Wha?
G #2/... jimmy - don't get too involved. this is the kind
of story that willo break your heart.
ME/... He's the father of of the 2 year old, but not the 8
month old.
BOSS LADY/... who is? Fonzo?
ME/... Yup. got the last word, too. "You can't turn a ho
into a housewife."
ME/... Even Maury's powers can't match 'Fonzo.
ME/... OVER.
ME/... AND.
ME/... OUT!

Media Just Don't Understand

Will Smith rulez. Props and homage to Will. If you can't quite catch my meaning, just ask.

Down to business: my browser's(go Firefox!) home page is MyWay.com. When I opened it today, one of the "Top News" headlines was "Storm continues to Last Mexican Coastline". This, of course, set my right eyebrow raising in the sarcastic way that it often does when I see the media goof something up. I think I'm a bit OC about this, too. (No, I don't mean to imply that I'm like Peter Gallagher's character on a certain TV show. I mean OC as in OCD, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.) I don't quite understand why I'm this way about goofs from the media. Maybe it's the way that they present themselves sometimes, omniscient lords gracing the lower masses with their wisdom and wit.

Anyway, below is the beginning of the page which appeared when I followed the link (http://apnews.myway.com//article/20051023/D8DDOL8G2.html):

"Storm Continues to Last Mexican Coastline

Oct 23, 9:05 AM (ET)

By WILL WEISSERT

CANCUN, Mexico (AP) - Hurricane Wilma drifted northward away from the Yucatan peninsula Sunday, but furious winds and rain were still punishing Mexico's Caribbean coastline, where the storm killed...."

Now, I was certain that the headline was meant to read: "Storm continues to LASH Mexican Coastline", and I wanted to immediately send a message to Mr. Weissert and ridicule him for mixing his words up in that headline. For a number of reasons I didn't do this. One is that there's no "Send a scathing e-mail to author" button on most news web pages. Another reason is that many headlines are not written by the author of the article, but rather another staffer at the outlet. (At my local paper they are masters of all that is CORNY. To wit: "U-M uncovers field of gleams" and "MSU heads south, losing to Northwestern". Need I say more?) Finally, being quite a self-doubter at times, I decided to look up the definition of "last" at yourDictionary.com and one definition gave me pause, at least for a little bit. It was a verb meaning to continue on, or to survive.

When you look at it one way it could have been meant to say that the hurricane is "surviving" its brush with the Yucatan peninsula, which- since it is still a hurricane- it is. On the other hand, it would mean that it continues to continue, which seems a bit deliberate, even for the media. Especially when you consider the opening sentence where the wind and rain were still "punishing" the coastline, it's pretty apparent that "lash" was the intended word. So, AP, congratulations. You've got a dolt on staff who's succeeded in feeding many of your subscribers (including ABC News) your mistakes.

http://apnews.myway.com//article/20051023/D8DDOL8G2.html
http://abcnews.go.com/International/wireStory?id=1241616


On a completely separate note, here's one for the folks at Parents behaving badly. Oh, wait! They're on the case already! What WILL we think of next? And here I was worrying about my 8 year old daughter's attire (she's real skinny, so she rolls her sweat-pant waistband down. It's just that you can see her bloomers when she's got them rolled down far enough to hold the pants up.) Or am I being obtuse?

A quick poll & some great news

Good News: Results are negative! Whattarelief! Long recovery ahead while her leg heals where things were removed, and the poor girl has 3 scars on her leg from the surgery. I just hope that's the only scars that result from this. I truly want to thank all of you for keeping fingers crossed and warm thoughts pointed her way. That fabled "kindness of strangers" is a great thing.

Poll:
Okay, I'm spoiled by a broadband connection and I know it. When traveling for work, I have to check e-mail and do my work duties through a dial-up connection and I grit my teeth the whole time. But this made me think (I know, a RARE occurrence!) What percentage of the visitors to my world here are coming via dial-up connections? I'm wondering if the hotcodez videos are annoying to you dial-uppers? If not a dial-upper, do they bother you anyway? Is there a cooler way to refer to the dial-uppers? I need some new slang.

Next question: How many of you are blogging while at work? Be honest, I promise not to tell!

Just checking in/News/Tagged!

In the midst of my Not-in-my-bed-for-3-consecutive-Saturdays weeks of business travels and family commitments, I wanted to check in with alls y'all on the list shown on the right. My second stop was Randi (the list order is randomized, so you're EACH at the top of my speed-dial) and wouldn't you know it, the filly tagged me. Now I've got homework!

But before I get into that, I'm yankin' on the prayer chain for those of you who partake in such an activity for a couple of reasons: #1) I lost another Auntie M, actually my Grand Aunt on my father's side. She was a strong woman of great stature who raised my father's cousin on her own as her husband died very early-on. (I was not aware of that fact until the memorial service!) Your thoughts will help her family as they work through the grieving process. Thanks-

#2 is a bit more serious. (Ironic, I know. How much more serious is there than the death of a loved one? My view is that the death can't be undone, so focus your strength and energy on healing and helping.) My step-niece, a beautiful girl all of 10 years old, knows how to sew, takes violin lessons, extremely compassionate. . . one of those souls that you get the feeling has walked this earth before. Last weekend she was at a skate park celebrating her birthday and broke her femur (that's the largest bone in your body, located in your upper leg. It doesn't break all that often.) X-rays showed a tumorous growth, so they operated Monday morning to remove the tumor and found a cyst along the way. The jackass doctor had the balls to discuss options-- should the biopsy show a malignancy-- while in front of the young girl. You know, the comforting words like "chemo", "radiation therapy", and "additional surgery". If that wasn't enough, he threw in "amputation" for good measure.

Are. You. FUCKING! Kidding. Me?

So, things around this large family are quite a bit edgy right now. Although the surgeon did say that the material removed did not appear malignant, it will take 10 days for the results of the biopsy. I just hate the big C, for I've only known 2 to survive brushes with it. It took a wonderful neighbor in less than 8 weeks, and my beloved Aunt M after just 4 months. One angel was already called back this year, they don't need another one. Not THIS one.


Back to Randi's assignment:

The Rules:
1. Go into your archive.
2. Find your 23rd post.
3. Find the fifth sentence (or closest to).
4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions.
5. Tag five other people to do the same.

The sentence: -S'mores.

The meaning: One of the many things from our vacation this summer.


My victims: Mike the Hick, Shandi, The Amateur Dad (cuz he doesn't have enough on his hands), Jaime (cuz she doesn't have enough on her hands, YET!), and finally, Funny Mike (who doesn't do tags but I'm givin' him the shout out b/c he's just danged funny. And because my paperperson won't deliver the Conschohocken Recorder, so I've no way to support Mike financially [but his friends keep calling and asking anyway])

Gotta run. You be good!

Goals

This pic sort of sums up the past weekend, positive scores in many ways. The boy's team did well, as this shot of him scoring shows. Daughter's team didn't fare so well, they were trounced by what seemed to be an army of mutant 7&8 year-olds fed nothing but genetically engineered hybrid corn and hormone-laced milk. These kids were giants, plain and simple, and the flatfooted Sonics were absolutely no match for them.

No matter. Once back home the party began in honor of our daughter and some cousins. Oh, Michigan State was on the TV, too. We had the house properly decorated with just the right touch of Spartan support (you know, flag, wind sock, grill cover, shirt on my back. . . ) Many of my B-I-Ls are UofM fans, so I needed to extend the proper hospitality to them of course. And the TV was readily available if they needed/wanted to check-in on the score of the Michigan/Wisconsin game (hint: they weren't happy campers.) But that's not important.

The kids all enjoyed themselves immensely; what with badminton, volleyball, rasslin', gamin', eatin', singin'- you get the idea. They did what cousins do: catch up with each other in their busy, 14-and-under lives, see their grandparents, eat cake-and-ice-cream-and-chips-and-dips-and-veggies-and-fruit-and-nuts-and-sodas-bubble-gum and if I could think of anything else I'd type that too! They burned off some pent-up energy as they last got together about 6 weeks ago, and reaffirmed the various bonds that develop as you grow-up separate but alongside family. Heck, they even drew names for Kris Kringles already. Could you get kids any more wound up? Too fun!

So- now that they're all fired-up- I'm skipping town on Monday for an overnight trip, and I won't have a Saturday night in my bed until October 22. I just hope they're good for Wifey, it's hard to lower the boom over the phone- especially when they're in a trance watching TV or playing a game.

Have a great week everybody. Set, then reach your goals!

What to do when you can't report much

Gotta love the Blogthings:

This one got it wrong. James/Jim is Jimu in Japanese. Dorks! But I do know how to use chopsticks (AND I can play them on the piano. D-Definitely time for Wapner)

Your Japanese Name Is...

Akio Yamashina

What's your Japanese Name?

This one doesn't match me perfectly, but neither does my color scheme. It's SORT-OF yellow, though.

Your Blog Should Be Yellow

You're a cheerful, upbeat blogger who tends to make everyone laugh. You are a great storyteller, and the first to post the latest funny link. You're also friendly and welcoming to everyone who comments on your blog.

What Color Should Your Blog or Journal Be?

Do people really say "Mack Daddy" any more? Holla back, y'all!

Your Daddy Is Arnold Schwarzenegger

What You Call Him: Pops Why You Love Him: He's the Mack Daddy

Who's Your Daddy?

Your Personality Profile

You are elegant, withdrawn, and brilliant. Your mind is a weapon, able to solve any puzzle. You are also great at poking holes in arguments and common beliefs. For you, comfort and calm are very important. You tend to thrive on your own and shrug off most affection. You prefer to protect your emotions and stay strong.

The World's Shortest Personality Test

SEPT 19: TALK LIKE A PIRATE DAY

Dang-it all, I missed it again! 9/19 is the worldwide, international Talk Like a Pirate day, and I didn't find out until five-tharrrty tonight. In honor of the wondrous occasion, I have unmasked the plundering "Privateer Orange Arse". Not sure about the orange arse, b/c if it was, me lad would be goin' t' the doctor.

Jim , your pirate name is
Privateer Orange Arse

What is YOUR pirate name?


Another generator gave me the name: "Almost-Crazy Butch Grimm" Now THIS guy sounds more like a rum-drinkin scurvy dog! Go now, buckos. Ye best be gettin t' plunderin'!

MSU 44 ND 41 Are you kidding me?!

To my Irish friends, I feel for ya. Honest! Think back to last Halloween, MSU was beating Michigan pretty well, at least until the mir-frickin-aculous Wolverine comeback. Does this sound familiar? No? Ok, how about this? Triple fucking overtime. Does that ring any bells? So yeah, I been there.

BUT NOW IT'S OUR TURN!! WOO-HOO! And to win it the way we lost to Michigan last year.

Yes, Virginia. There is a God!

Pit Viper

I love working in an office, really I do. The building I work in houses 3 divisions, plus a warehouse. It's great, full of disgruntled employees and way too many incompetent managers. Add to this a huge mix of "temporary" employees. "Temporary" meaning our company's too cheap to step up to the plate and offer them benes like they should.

One of the unfortunate benefits of having so many "temps" around is the mistakes they make. You see, where I work is right outta Wisteria Lane, except t'aint no one near as good lookin' as you see on TV. When a newcomer arrives, there's a whole subdivision which circles their prey, not offering an ounce of assistance, but for sure loaded for bear when that poor newbie crosses a line. Any line. Line in the sand, line on your forehead, lunch line, you name it. It usually starts out with an incredulous "Didn't you know?!" Well duh! How could they? There isn't ONE training manual in the fargin' place. And you've gotta love a company whose employee handbook is a PDF file on a network drive.

That said, I just HAVE to share with you a typical e-mail pounce by one of our Queens. She has an incredible wit, and is sharp as hell. Let me set the scene: the original message is from the latest H.R. temp to split the fold. She lasted all of about 2 months. Young, might have had a degree, and spent a-lot of time planning a wedding. . ..

I just wanted to send out a quick email letting everyone know how much i
have enjoyed working here at [Your Company Here]. I wanted to thank everyone
for being so kind and welcoming to me. Monday i will be starting a new job
at [Horrors! It's a charter school] in their HR department. I will truly miss
working here.

Thanks again for everything and best wishes to all of you.

Nice. Warm enough to not burn a bridge, but oh, the veiled passive-aggressive "so kind and welcoming". She's good!

All hail the queen:

No Stompy, Thank YOU. For getting the hell out of here. Your voice and
the sound of your thighs rubbing together as you stomp by has been
grating on my nerves for far too long now. And you'll never make any of us
believe that you really think Skippy is funny. So now you can quit laughing at
his lame ass jokes.

I hope she learns that "I" should be capitalized regardless of where it
is used in the sentence. They probably don't teach that in History 101.

Buy, Stompy. Farwell. Yule bee mist.

How can you compete with that? Some nights, I can't sleep.

Violate Me: Chapter Two

I was reading Shan's post today about one of those unfortunate procedures some that walk this Earth must endure. Luckily, I'm one of the hominids keeping myself pure for just the right, er-, woman. I was, however, a victim of a much more inhumane "treatment" maybe 10 years ago.

During a routine physical for a new job, some blood was detected in my bodily fluid-waste. The next step was to go to a urologist for a more thorough "exam". Thorough is an understatement, this was the mother of all exams. First you're turned into a lab rat, made to lie on a table while they inject you with Josef Mengele's secret formula that makes your head want to explode. You can taste metal, you're sweating head-to-toe, and you have to lay still for something like 19 X-Rays while they track this junk's path through your bodily filtration system and into your bladder. Just when you think they're done, they make you go empty your bladder and come back for one more. "Nice guys, I wonder what they do for fun on weekends?" I think to myself. A real, live pissing contest. The fun was just beginning.

After waiting for the 20lbs of celluloid to be developed, I get to transport them to the big U's office. They were fascinating to look at really, showing kidneys and other stuff working the junk to the bladder. Big U thought he might see a common deformation where the mesh in the middle of your kidney is loosely formed, thereby allowing a few blood cells to pass though every now and then. "Nothing to worry about" says he, "but we'll need to do one more test to be sure." Okey-dokey, what's the harm? How bad could it be?

"Put on this gown and get nekkid" was the next instruction. Okay, that's not EXACTLY what he said, but you get my drift. You gotta love those paper gowns they give nowadays, the thing was slipping off my shoulder so much I felt a bit like the girl in Flashdance, but more like Jodie Foster in The Accused right about the time she decided she din't want to dance no more. Especially when I spied more of Mengele's tools on a table nearby, one of them looked a bit like a fiber-optic cable. Uh-oh. He's going in for a better look.

Now, before they violate a man front-wise like, they shoot some numbing gel up there first. Knowing this, I think it makes the good Doctor more careless. After all, the road's already been paved, so to speak. After a few minutes, when 'Slick Willy' is in no mood to fight, the Insertion Procedure begins. His first words were, and this is no joke: "Relax." Like I should just lie back and learn to enjoy myself or something. At least the ladies get stirrups, and the proctos get knocked out. I'm sitting there watching the guy struggle to jam the damn thing up my l'il Jimmy and I'm supposed to relax?!

Of course, this isn't bad enough. Before he can look through the scope, it needs to be cleaned. This process involves a fluid being flushed through the scope, which promptly then follows the path the scope has created and you basically urinate all over yourself. Nice warm feeling. The- *ahem*- 'pinnacle' of all this abuse, was when the good Doctor, now satisfied with his work, proudly declares that I have a "beautiful bladder". So I've got THAT going for me. Which is nice.

At least he didn't leave a finsky on the dresser.

Where did summer go? Vol. II

Man, how time flies. I can't believe how fast the sun seems to set nowadays. Too fast.

WAY. TOO. FAST.

We were fortunate to have good times with great family and friends. And can you tell that I love the water? (Well, at least when I can touch bottom, anyways.) So, let's go for a trip around my world, so to speak. Starting at 11, you've got a young Nephew finishing up a little project I'll call Fiefdom of Dreams because if you build it, "They" will come. They always do, the li'l rascals; every fiefdom dies a quick death underneath Keds, sandals and water shoes. With valor. The 1:00 cherub smashing another fortress (with glee, I might add) is a friend's daughter.

3:00 siesta is occupied by another friend, my great college buddy. He's a 'sangineer' (sand castle engineer) and built the 1:00 fortress. He knows more techniques than anyone should; if he had the time I think he'd love to enter one of those sand sculpting contests coming to a beach near you. At the bottom of the hour is the deck that was my 'Summer Project' which began on Father's Day weekend. THAT was fun. (Did I mention that this was the hottest summer in at least 5 years?) After opening weekend, it was an after work project interrupted by our summer trip Up North, some golf, and a few business trips too. Drilling and screwing each board down was a thrilling monotony of indescribable proportions. It's not perfect, but it's finished- at least until I put some skirting around it to keep varmints (real or otherwise) from under it.

8:30 has Daughter and 1/2Twin sampling some 'fruits of the fire'. S'mores are great, aren't they? Finally, at 10:30 I just HAD to let a sunset into the fray, if for nothing more than the symbolism of the passing season.

Thanks for touring with me. Now, tell me about your favorite memories from this summer!

And on the lighter side

OK blogdomites, bring your 'A' game! It's football season, and my local paper had the *ahem* balls to print this picture in their (super-dramatic, exciting music inserted here)

COLLEGE FOOTBALL PREVIEW.

(That's a primer to you sophisticated folks on my right, or on my WAY right.)

Anywho- it's picture caption time. So take the gloves off (ta-dum-dum) and "give it yer best shot".