(this was a draft from a while back of me trying to write again on one of my rare good days, originally from March 13, 2013)
One of the "perks" (if you will) of being disabled, is being able to see just about every syndicated "reality" type "show". That's a lot of quotations marks there, but with good reason. These show do that fine balancing act of being both entertaining, and mind numbing crapfests. I watch these things completely astounded that there are vast audiences and follow these as gospel, real edifices of humanity. I guess my attempt here is to navigate for all those who don't have insomnia and have to work, the wild lands of cheap syndicated folderol. (look that word up, it's worth using and it fits this perfectly)
Firstly a few caveats, much like wearing protective headgear when skateboarding or biking. Just to make your journey less painful than mine:
The word "Axed" - used primarily in courtroom shows. Definition, the past tense of "ask", apparently. This one makes my skin crawl every time I hear it. Can't be bothered to use a few more mouth muscles to form the word "asked"? Dumb yourself down and let the word "axed" slide out instead for half the effort of real human speech. Example: "I axed him why he kick my car, Judge Judy!" I understand "asked" uses a bit more tongue gymnastics, but com'on people! Make the effort, I already had one brain stroke, every time I hear that word on a show I get so near a stupidity triggered aneurysm
Being shirtless - It never fails, on any police/cops type show, you can count the seconds till a perp has his shirt disappear or shows up without a shirt. Often times, I'll watch an episode of Cops, and when an officer approaches the door to some inevitably white trashy situation and they have to figure out the guilty party, it's always the shirtless guy. Oops, spoilers. It's almost a drinking game sometimes.
Creating Compulsive Disorder from Watching Disorders - To anyone who watches the show "hoarders", they know what I mean. After watching that addictive show, I always get in an intense mood for cleaning, organizing, and throwing away things I kept for a bit, but haven't used yet. It's a great house maintenance motivator.
"Actuality" - beware of any network or show that avoids the word "reality" and use buzzwords such as the non-word "actuality"
Tuesday, June 03, 2014
Here We Go Again!
Yes, here we go again. Once again, I am trying to restart my blog. And this time, I think I'll actually be do it. Because, Now I'm doing this for a personal reason. I'm starting to recognize why I stopped in the first place. I mean, yeah, the stroke obviously sidetracked me quite a bit. But as of recently, I've also discovered other reasons why I haven't been diligent.
Previously, I've used excuses, however accurate, such as, I'm tired all the time. My memory got scrambled or lost, therefor, I have no more stories. I can't put my thought down on the page well enough. Lots of brain stuff. But there was also something far more serious going on.
Depression. And the type of depression that stay hidden and denies itself. The kind that slowly eats away at your own person, telling you you can't, and you'll fail. The kind that tricks you into giving up and just waiting it to leave. But like a bad house guest with a hygiene problem, just wont take the hint and makes himself MORE at home.
And this hidden depression started long ago and was the real reason I was withdrawing from society quietly, including this page as well! I remember (yes, I still remember some things) long ago, about five years ago after the stroke, I was asked, "do you feel depressed?" by my doctor.
I said, "No, I don't think so..." and never gave it another thought. But that's the danger of depression: it's not the cinematic bad actor type, with the moaning and crying and walking around like Shlep Rock or Eeyore. It's much more devious: it's doubt, it's loneliness in a crowded room, it's not finding the reasons to get out of bed, shower, get dressed and just go out the door. And thinking your thoughts don't mean anything. Hense, no blog.
I'll probably go into it later, but I eventually acknowledged the depression and sought help. I'm on medication and not only can I form words again, and be my usually verbose self at age 48, BUT...
Previously, I've used excuses, however accurate, such as, I'm tired all the time. My memory got scrambled or lost, therefor, I have no more stories. I can't put my thought down on the page well enough. Lots of brain stuff. But there was also something far more serious going on.
Depression. And the type of depression that stay hidden and denies itself. The kind that slowly eats away at your own person, telling you you can't, and you'll fail. The kind that tricks you into giving up and just waiting it to leave. But like a bad house guest with a hygiene problem, just wont take the hint and makes himself MORE at home.
And this hidden depression started long ago and was the real reason I was withdrawing from society quietly, including this page as well! I remember (yes, I still remember some things) long ago, about five years ago after the stroke, I was asked, "do you feel depressed?" by my doctor.
I said, "No, I don't think so..." and never gave it another thought. But that's the danger of depression: it's not the cinematic bad actor type, with the moaning and crying and walking around like Shlep Rock or Eeyore. It's much more devious: it's doubt, it's loneliness in a crowded room, it's not finding the reasons to get out of bed, shower, get dressed and just go out the door. And thinking your thoughts don't mean anything. Hense, no blog.
I'll probably go into it later, but I eventually acknowledged the depression and sought help. I'm on medication and not only can I form words again, and be my usually verbose self at age 48, BUT...
I did my first selfie ever.
This, for me, is a humongous breakthrough! I never ever thought I could get over taking pictures of myself before. My entire life was me ducking the photographs when I could! And here I am taking my first vulnerable step and posting my picture online to scrutinize.
Not only that, I'm talking the way I used to, to people, I'm enjoying it! I'm taking walks (okay, more hobbles with a cane, but, you take what you can get...) and i'm finding my humor again.
Also, I don't think I look that bad! Not shabby for an almost 50 year old, huh? I stopped aging it seems. And as my bestie Leanne said in her own open way, "Still the same duke..only with thinning hair". Thanks...
And do you think taking a selfie is easy?. It really isn't. You have to pre-plan hoe the mirror image will look, you can't block your face. You need to balance the camera/phone and still press the touch sensitive button. You have to avoid dropping the phone in the sink or toilet. You have to remember to take off he flash and clean the damn mirror. And, wipe that constipated look off your face, that you get by trying to remember and do all that.
And my left arm and hand are controlled by my brain like one of those Chucky Cheese Claw arm prize machines.
But, here's to a brand new era. I may not have memories, but I will have something to say after all.
And, this is a great start!
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Infamous SOTD reorientation
I was reading my past posts and I thought, "dag-nabbit, I could write!". I was always a good creative writer, but getting my brain and fingers back to semi normalcy just to flow my thoughts here has been quite a chore. I usually just freeform type, as I would just talk to someone, one-on-one. Now, I have to pre-form my thoughts before I type, just so it makes some kind of non-ADD sense. I need a professional editor, or control my wandering mind...SQUIRREL!
I was planning to make a YouTube channel and film stuff, but i'm still terrible at reading from a scripted dialog I wrote. After 30 takes on the first paragraph, I decided I had more mental work to do and called it quits for now. I'll eventually do it. I can talk fine with just spontaneous talk so far.
But, I need to get back to focusing my head and doing this blog religiously as I did years before (has it really been years?!). I still got stories to tell, it seems, and I think I can resuscitate this...
Which leads me to this: I'm coauthoring my girlfriend, Whitneys, infamous Song of the Day blog. This is where she posts musical acts and songs she likes but doesn't think anyone really knows about. She's got about the same musical tastes as me, and many groups she's liked in the past that were unknowns became quite big. Not to sound all hipster, and such. Take a look at the dates of some of these posts.
Lately, it's been more of a "Song of the Moment" as it's almost bi-monthly now. So, I offered to write and present inbetweeners, such as I've done in animation, to fill up the slack.
My "Michaels Sidetracks" will be weekly and will reflect music I've liked and styles I produce. Hopefully, this exorcise will re-orientate my fingers and focus my head to do this blog properly again. Should be fun. Give a listen, wont you? And, I'll be back...
I was planning to make a YouTube channel and film stuff, but i'm still terrible at reading from a scripted dialog I wrote. After 30 takes on the first paragraph, I decided I had more mental work to do and called it quits for now. I'll eventually do it. I can talk fine with just spontaneous talk so far.
But, I need to get back to focusing my head and doing this blog religiously as I did years before (has it really been years?!). I still got stories to tell, it seems, and I think I can resuscitate this...
Which leads me to this: I'm coauthoring my girlfriend, Whitneys, infamous Song of the Day blog. This is where she posts musical acts and songs she likes but doesn't think anyone really knows about. She's got about the same musical tastes as me, and many groups she's liked in the past that were unknowns became quite big. Not to sound all hipster, and such. Take a look at the dates of some of these posts.
Lately, it's been more of a "Song of the Moment" as it's almost bi-monthly now. So, I offered to write and present inbetweeners, such as I've done in animation, to fill up the slack.
My "Michaels Sidetracks" will be weekly and will reflect music I've liked and styles I produce. Hopefully, this exorcise will re-orientate my fingers and focus my head to do this blog properly again. Should be fun. Give a listen, wont you? And, I'll be back...
Archive for the Infamous SOTD
Friday, December 21, 2012
Beauty in Sadness
Nothing makes you feel so small and helpless, than seeing someone you care about cry.
Nothing cuts you to the core than seeing someone so strong and proud, drop the curtain on their heart, and let you see there pain. To have so much pride striped away, choking back tears. Not wanting you to see this side of themselves. To see that they too, are as frail and imperfect as the rest of us.
And nothing is more humbling then a friend feeling that safe about you, to open up that wound in your presence.
And thats the true beauty in sadness.
Nothing cuts you to the core than seeing someone so strong and proud, drop the curtain on their heart, and let you see there pain. To have so much pride striped away, choking back tears. Not wanting you to see this side of themselves. To see that they too, are as frail and imperfect as the rest of us.
And nothing is more humbling then a friend feeling that safe about you, to open up that wound in your presence.
And thats the true beauty in sadness.
The Gayness Show
Way back in my early twenties, I was seeing this girl and we'd go out quite a bit and do things like see movies and stuff.
It was quite nice and we'd talk and talk for hours. And I thought, zounds! (well, I didn't actually say that, but you get the gist, right?), We sure do get along afully swell together! (I might have actually said that, I am a dork). And I was thinking, she's comfortable with me as well.....
Talking about the troubles with her boyfriend she's seeing on and off. Yeah. Nice.
But wait a sec, If she's enjoying her time with me, and we do have a fantastic time, well, she must like me, right?
And this is where I realized something I've never phantomed before. Why I always seem to be the best-est guy friend of all these fantastic girls over the years. The one 'buddy" thay they always feel so comfortable with discussing things tou wouldn't just tell anyone. I used to thing perhaps, I exuded this aura of trust, and maybe a bit of pine tar for freshness.
The big hint was taking Rose to a movie. We were having a seat in the desired center rows and I was leaning in closer to her as she spoke. The movie was about to start when she said something about having something to eat afterwards.
I smiled at her, and said "I'm game!"
...And the most odd look came over her face as she looked at me with a cocked eyebrow of puzzlement. I then got my answer on how I am percieved.
"You're gay?!"
It was dead silent as the lights went down and all I saw before the blackness was all thses heads swiveling about to see the guy who just aparently "came out of the closet" as the movie preshow. I was speachless.
so THATS why she hung out with me! She was so ready to see I was gay!
Tuesday, January 03, 2012
Frustration
I'm beginning to think strokes are very frustrating. First the unable to walk and speak annoyance, then all the hubub of trying to cultivate replacement brain cells to fix all that. You'd think whatever "higher power" would make this easier. Okay, I get it: damnation upon my heathen soul. Remove my motor skills, my eyesight, my vocal range, my talent, just to make me fear the thought of a "caring" mystical spirit. Not the way I'd go about it, but i'm not all powerful, apparently.
If anything, I've seen my own strength grow. And then I have to hear people say to me, I've been "blessed" to have been given the chance to see this within myself. Praise God, or whomever for his (or her) love. All I can think of is, "thanks for giving me no credit on my resolve
EDIT: Talk about irony. This post was originally almost three pages long with tons of insightful information of my philosophy, theology, and the hell of applying for Social disability. I also commented on why I haven't done my You tube vids yet, and how hard it is to write all this, with brakes and finger tapping. I post it, and then find out all but two paragraphs remain. Frustration.
I don't even have much hope that this edit will show right now...
Hope you're having a better day than I.
If anything, I've seen my own strength grow. And then I have to hear people say to me, I've been "blessed" to have been given the chance to see this within myself. Praise God, or whomever for his (or her) love. All I can think of is, "thanks for giving me no credit on my resolve
EDIT: Talk about irony. This post was originally almost three pages long with tons of insightful information of my philosophy, theology, and the hell of applying for Social disability. I also commented on why I haven't done my You tube vids yet, and how hard it is to write all this, with brakes and finger tapping. I post it, and then find out all but two paragraphs remain. Frustration.
I don't even have much hope that this edit will show right now...
Hope you're having a better day than I.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Rapure Hit the Snooze Button, I Guess
Y'know, I don't quite like talking, pontificating as it were, about religion. I mean, If worshiping God or a broccoli spear makes you more comfortable in life, good on you and I wish you well. But I have to say a few things about this Harold Camping and his "prophesy" about the end of the world May 21, 2011.
I wouldn't mind so much, but it's all over the place, and why he decided the day after my birthday, I don't know. Probably distracted people from getting me sweet gifts, too. I even felt bad for those poor shlubs that spent all of their hard earned life savings on the "100% guaranteed" rapture date. And, as you can tell, by me typing this, It didn't happen as promised. I bet there's egg on somebodies face now, huh?
Yes, this ancient Rev Harold Camping, calculated some numerology tricks that told him somehow that the end of the world was happening Saturday May 21st 2011. Actually, what he promised was that on the 21st, all the "chosen people would go "poof" and be transported to heaven, the rest of us sinners will live till October 21st 2011 in utter torment till the earth blows up or turns into a Dr. Suess or Bizzarro world or something.
When nothing happened at 6pm as was predicted (And what time zone does God use anyway), I predicted the possible excuses he could use on his flock...
1.) Ha ha! This was a test of your faith!
2.) the rapture did happen1 don't you see it, non-believer?
3.) Due to our faith and praying, the event has been postponed until further notice. But it's gonna happen...
4.) What I meant to say was, it was the end of the old ways, and time for a new beginning with a bigger spiritual world. Good job, people!! We did it!
What I didn't expect him to say was...
5.) oops...sorry...I'm not a modern day prophet and I am sad and old, and probably had too much tank oxygen that day. Sorry, go about your lives and be happy...
And you know what?! Turns out I am a better prophet than Harold Camping!!!
Two days later, he came out in public and he chose excuses 1,2,3, AND 4. the 21st had the "expected" spiritual rapture as God chose that day for his judgement, then he's gonna sleep on it for a while till October 21st and do his mojo then. Oooohhhhh....and I thought Camping was just wrong.
I also predicted that although this is the second time he predicted wrong (the first in 1994) he's still going to have believers follow him somehow. At that point, I stopped feeling sorry for those who spent their life savings on Harold's words (he sure as hell doesn't feel bad. Even said on his radio program, it's not his responsibility as he never actually told these people to spend their money on his quest. But, he also didn't say not to. And he himself, said he wouldn't give up his home or car.)
I say, practice whatever makes you happy. No one is better than anyone else. Don't tell me what I believe in is the wrong religion while yours it right. I try to be good person , and that's my center. I don't need or want anyone like Harold Camping to place his USDA stamp of approval on the back of my hand so i can get into Heavens nightclub. It should be as simple as, you good= go to heaven, collect $200.
And if the rapture does come October 21st, I guess there'll be egg on my face and I should have gotten my hand Harold stamped. at least I'll be in good company and with lots of left behind pets. It'll be like My Little Pet Shop.
Be good humans.
I wouldn't mind so much, but it's all over the place, and why he decided the day after my birthday, I don't know. Probably distracted people from getting me sweet gifts, too. I even felt bad for those poor shlubs that spent all of their hard earned life savings on the "100% guaranteed" rapture date. And, as you can tell, by me typing this, It didn't happen as promised. I bet there's egg on somebodies face now, huh?
Yes, this ancient Rev Harold Camping, calculated some numerology tricks that told him somehow that the end of the world was happening Saturday May 21st 2011. Actually, what he promised was that on the 21st, all the "chosen people would go "poof" and be transported to heaven, the rest of us sinners will live till October 21st 2011 in utter torment till the earth blows up or turns into a Dr. Suess or Bizzarro world or something.
When nothing happened at 6pm as was predicted (And what time zone does God use anyway), I predicted the possible excuses he could use on his flock...
1.) Ha ha! This was a test of your faith!
2.) the rapture did happen1 don't you see it, non-believer?
3.) Due to our faith and praying, the event has been postponed until further notice. But it's gonna happen...
4.) What I meant to say was, it was the end of the old ways, and time for a new beginning with a bigger spiritual world. Good job, people!! We did it!
What I didn't expect him to say was...
5.) oops...sorry...I'm not a modern day prophet and I am sad and old, and probably had too much tank oxygen that day. Sorry, go about your lives and be happy...
And you know what?! Turns out I am a better prophet than Harold Camping!!!
Two days later, he came out in public and he chose excuses 1,2,3, AND 4. the 21st had the "expected" spiritual rapture as God chose that day for his judgement, then he's gonna sleep on it for a while till October 21st and do his mojo then. Oooohhhhh....and I thought Camping was just wrong.
I also predicted that although this is the second time he predicted wrong (the first in 1994) he's still going to have believers follow him somehow. At that point, I stopped feeling sorry for those who spent their life savings on Harold's words (he sure as hell doesn't feel bad. Even said on his radio program, it's not his responsibility as he never actually told these people to spend their money on his quest. But, he also didn't say not to. And he himself, said he wouldn't give up his home or car.)
I say, practice whatever makes you happy. No one is better than anyone else. Don't tell me what I believe in is the wrong religion while yours it right. I try to be good person , and that's my center. I don't need or want anyone like Harold Camping to place his USDA stamp of approval on the back of my hand so i can get into Heavens nightclub. It should be as simple as, you good= go to heaven, collect $200.
And if the rapture does come October 21st, I guess there'll be egg on my face and I should have gotten my hand Harold stamped. at least I'll be in good company and with lots of left behind pets. It'll be like My Little Pet Shop.
Be good humans.
Friday, May 20, 2011
Pre-End of Days Sale
Well, today is my birthday, and I thought I needed to post something seeing as tomorrow is the foretold "end of days" and I haven't done anything here in about a year. If it is end of days tomorrow, I guess it doesn't matter if I do do this (*snicker* I said "do do"). But, at least I'll feel a sense of accomplishment when we're all flushed down the toilet of reality.
Why haven't I posted anything here in a while? I wondered myself about this, and only recently have I been able to admit to myself that I'm not 100% back from my ordeal, as I like to tell myself I am. I mean, having a positive attitude is fine and all, but there's a point where it's almost being delusional and I need to be realistic. I currently can't focus on anything for long amounts of time, neither brain or tactile skills. Previously, when I sit down and type a blog, I just sit and start to free form type. No real editing other than a soda brake and auto correction. I'm pretty much a "new me" now and I've lost the owners manual. When I now start a blog, it's really a mental workout to retain focus and finish it. I quite often fall asleep while typing.
So, I do apologize to those who did follow me, And I hope you'll all be around again. I'll keep on trying to write, and draw, and walk, and drive and not burn the cheddar on my famous mac & cheese casserole.
In the meantime, I'll let you all in on a few things I've been toying with to fill my time and make up my blog deficit. Firstly, I've been trying to get my head together for a youtube blog thingy where I do more movie and pop culture reviews as soon as I can. Whitney made me an awesome title piece for the show and she's such an expert in editing and comedic timing. Without her, I wouldn't even be here. When I get my act together, literally, I'll post it here.
Secondly, I've been doing a "soup" page for a few weeks to train my mind again. It's a daily (I try at least)picture and video collection blog I put together and, like stumble, is a place you can lose hours of your time exploring. Take a look, and I'll be doing this quite a bit as it's fast and easy for me to do in a few seconds.
http://atomicknight.soup.io/
You can also go to my lovely significant other blogs, as I find her to be hilarious in her own right. This blogging page also has her weird Goodwill finds that we come across, with pictures. Here's Miss Eccentric...
At least she writes more often than me now. We were only together for a few weeks when I had my stroke, and she still stuck around! Even the nurses at the hospital were amazed, mentioning that marriages have been torn apart from a stroke, So, she is an amazing woman, with the proof of time in her pocket.
Also check out her net famous Song of the Day blog. Many people follow this little side hobby of hers...
So anyway, there you go, this was exhausting, and I need to be at my best for tomorrows rapture event. Wanna get good seats and convenient parking.
Take care and see you all on the other side. Me ant Whitney are going to enjoy my birthday (her's was yesterday). I'm coming for my damn birthday burger, Red Robin. And If you dare to try "singing" Clappy Birthday to any of us, I'm going to punch you in the neck and throw Red Robin Seasoning in your eyes like mace...
Take care,
Michael (Atomic Knight)
Oh, and remember, it's also Cher's birthday too...
Why haven't I posted anything here in a while? I wondered myself about this, and only recently have I been able to admit to myself that I'm not 100% back from my ordeal, as I like to tell myself I am. I mean, having a positive attitude is fine and all, but there's a point where it's almost being delusional and I need to be realistic. I currently can't focus on anything for long amounts of time, neither brain or tactile skills. Previously, when I sit down and type a blog, I just sit and start to free form type. No real editing other than a soda brake and auto correction. I'm pretty much a "new me" now and I've lost the owners manual. When I now start a blog, it's really a mental workout to retain focus and finish it. I quite often fall asleep while typing.
So, I do apologize to those who did follow me, And I hope you'll all be around again. I'll keep on trying to write, and draw, and walk, and drive and not burn the cheddar on my famous mac & cheese casserole.
In the meantime, I'll let you all in on a few things I've been toying with to fill my time and make up my blog deficit. Firstly, I've been trying to get my head together for a youtube blog thingy where I do more movie and pop culture reviews as soon as I can. Whitney made me an awesome title piece for the show and she's such an expert in editing and comedic timing. Without her, I wouldn't even be here. When I get my act together, literally, I'll post it here.
Secondly, I've been doing a "soup" page for a few weeks to train my mind again. It's a daily (I try at least)picture and video collection blog I put together and, like stumble, is a place you can lose hours of your time exploring. Take a look, and I'll be doing this quite a bit as it's fast and easy for me to do in a few seconds.
http://atomicknight.soup.io/
You can also go to my lovely significant other blogs, as I find her to be hilarious in her own right. This blogging page also has her weird Goodwill finds that we come across, with pictures. Here's Miss Eccentric...
http://whitsrandomupdates.blogspot.com/
At least she writes more often than me now. We were only together for a few weeks when I had my stroke, and she still stuck around! Even the nurses at the hospital were amazed, mentioning that marriages have been torn apart from a stroke, So, she is an amazing woman, with the proof of time in her pocket.
Also check out her net famous Song of the Day blog. Many people follow this little side hobby of hers...
http://sotdarchive.blogspot.com/
So anyway, there you go, this was exhausting, and I need to be at my best for tomorrows rapture event. Wanna get good seats and convenient parking.
Take care and see you all on the other side. Me ant Whitney are going to enjoy my birthday (her's was yesterday). I'm coming for my damn birthday burger, Red Robin. And If you dare to try "singing" Clappy Birthday to any of us, I'm going to punch you in the neck and throw Red Robin Seasoning in your eyes like mace...
Take care,
Michael (Atomic Knight)
Oh, and remember, it's also Cher's birthday too...
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Sisters Once More
It's been months, but here we go...
After my bout with Strokedom and recovery, Whitney and I decided to get another cat. I felt so bad that little Josie Marie Cat was all alone for months at home. Yes, Whitney went home every day for social time and feedings, but poor Josie was alone most of the day. The neighbors even said they sometimes heard Josie meowing at the door. One of the best days in the hospital was when the staff allowed me to have Josie visit my room. It was so nice to see her again, After all, I raised her from a pre-teen and when she had her sister playmate.
When I was released from the hospital, and was endangered of being knocked over at home from a rambunctious cat, Whitney suggested, perhaps, Josie needed a sister again.
Josie's original sister was out of the question. I don't even know if she was still alive, her owner is known for not being responsible for caring for cats or other living creatures. Indeed, her own friends had bets on when she'd end up killing the kitten by mistake. It's been much too long too, and that kitten would have learned all kinds of unacceptable behaviors, possibly anti-social as well.
Now Josie wasn't the most sociable cat as well, and she was very territorial, with her panther like Bombay claws and copper, judging eyes. I didn't know if I wanted to live with the heartbreak of giving away an unwanted kitten because they couldn't get along. So I resisted the new cat proposal, but read volumes on cat behavior and how to introduce new family members into the family unit as painless as possible.
I also wanted Whitney to be a part of my family, and having us choose a new family member was good for her to, since she had no choice with Josephine (or "big Fatty").
So we scoured around for a kitten and visited Pet's Mart for litter-mates. Pet's Mart had us fill out an application with tons of personal details, financial proofs, skin samples, and vials of DNA, just to adopt a grown cat. Hell, they even needed our vet number to question him and then come to visit our home to see if we were worthy. I don't think child adoption is this complex. Even though we had a great environment, we were turned down. Denied! I mean, they should welcome us wanting to take home a full grown cat. We're obviously good, non-hoarding cat owners with a happy and healthy girl already...
Craigslist was next, and that was a travesty. With most people never responding, or just giving the cat to the first person to show up at their door. We finally saw one picture of a tiny kitten for $20. It was a little girl kitten that was colored like Bugs Bunny with the appropriate gray and white patches. With my background, it seemed like destiny. So , we contacted back and forth with the owners...Hoping the kitten wouldn't be given away again.
We could come that weekend to see the kitten! WE counted the days until then and got there a bit early. Before we went in, I told Whitney, "Remember, we're just looking, we discuss, and if it doesn't feel right, we wont get the kitten. Right?" In we walked, with me nervously fingering the $20 in my pocket. The house owner walked us into the hallway, then pointed to a small sleeping fur rollup on a cat tower, "...there she is..."
Whitney blurted out immediately, "We'll take her!"
It was okay because, she won my heart. And she turned out to be free, the $20 charge online was to make sure we really wanted her. Next was the introduction to Josie...yikes. We placed Josie in the bathroom while we let the new kitten walk about, so her scent would become familiar, we rubbed a towel on the new girl and rubbed it on Josie. They were separated for a few days, just touching paws under a door, minor cat carrier visits, and lots of hissing from Josie. And then Whitney, always the impatient one, finally letting them meet without a cage or barricade between them. I was insanely nervous for their reaction.
Then I saw this, I needn't have worried...
And the Kitten was christen Jude (Judith) Rose. They run about, they play. eat, groom, and sleep together, or nearby. Josie is the moody one, and Jude is the Daddy's girl always seeking a pet or scratch. They share a big bucket of toys and have personal space places just like sisters need when they get on each others nerves. They even photo-bomb each other...
And now, Lil' Jude (as in "Hey Jude") is almost an adult, on October 3rd, she's grown quite a bit and no longer a palmful. Josie no longer has the size and weight advantage and can't just sit on Jude...
We're just one big family and It's nice to have kitten sisters once again...
After my bout with Strokedom and recovery, Whitney and I decided to get another cat. I felt so bad that little Josie Marie Cat was all alone for months at home. Yes, Whitney went home every day for social time and feedings, but poor Josie was alone most of the day. The neighbors even said they sometimes heard Josie meowing at the door. One of the best days in the hospital was when the staff allowed me to have Josie visit my room. It was so nice to see her again, After all, I raised her from a pre-teen and when she had her sister playmate.
When I was released from the hospital, and was endangered of being knocked over at home from a rambunctious cat, Whitney suggested, perhaps, Josie needed a sister again.
Josie's original sister was out of the question. I don't even know if she was still alive, her owner is known for not being responsible for caring for cats or other living creatures. Indeed, her own friends had bets on when she'd end up killing the kitten by mistake. It's been much too long too, and that kitten would have learned all kinds of unacceptable behaviors, possibly anti-social as well.
Now Josie wasn't the most sociable cat as well, and she was very territorial, with her panther like Bombay claws and copper, judging eyes. I didn't know if I wanted to live with the heartbreak of giving away an unwanted kitten because they couldn't get along. So I resisted the new cat proposal, but read volumes on cat behavior and how to introduce new family members into the family unit as painless as possible.
I also wanted Whitney to be a part of my family, and having us choose a new family member was good for her to, since she had no choice with Josephine (or "big Fatty").
So we scoured around for a kitten and visited Pet's Mart for litter-mates. Pet's Mart had us fill out an application with tons of personal details, financial proofs, skin samples, and vials of DNA, just to adopt a grown cat. Hell, they even needed our vet number to question him and then come to visit our home to see if we were worthy. I don't think child adoption is this complex. Even though we had a great environment, we were turned down. Denied! I mean, they should welcome us wanting to take home a full grown cat. We're obviously good, non-hoarding cat owners with a happy and healthy girl already...
Craigslist was next, and that was a travesty. With most people never responding, or just giving the cat to the first person to show up at their door. We finally saw one picture of a tiny kitten for $20. It was a little girl kitten that was colored like Bugs Bunny with the appropriate gray and white patches. With my background, it seemed like destiny. So , we contacted back and forth with the owners...Hoping the kitten wouldn't be given away again.
We could come that weekend to see the kitten! WE counted the days until then and got there a bit early. Before we went in, I told Whitney, "Remember, we're just looking, we discuss, and if it doesn't feel right, we wont get the kitten. Right?" In we walked, with me nervously fingering the $20 in my pocket. The house owner walked us into the hallway, then pointed to a small sleeping fur rollup on a cat tower, "...there she is..."
Whitney blurted out immediately, "We'll take her!"
It was okay because, she won my heart. And she turned out to be free, the $20 charge online was to make sure we really wanted her. Next was the introduction to Josie...yikes. We placed Josie in the bathroom while we let the new kitten walk about, so her scent would become familiar, we rubbed a towel on the new girl and rubbed it on Josie. They were separated for a few days, just touching paws under a door, minor cat carrier visits, and lots of hissing from Josie. And then Whitney, always the impatient one, finally letting them meet without a cage or barricade between them. I was insanely nervous for their reaction.Then I saw this, I needn't have worried...
And the Kitten was christen Jude (Judith) Rose. They run about, they play. eat, groom, and sleep together, or nearby. Josie is the moody one, and Jude is the Daddy's girl always seeking a pet or scratch. They share a big bucket of toys and have personal space places just like sisters need when they get on each others nerves. They even photo-bomb each other...
And now, Lil' Jude (as in "Hey Jude") is almost an adult, on October 3rd, she's grown quite a bit and no longer a palmful. Josie no longer has the size and weight advantage and can't just sit on Jude...We're just one big family and It's nice to have kitten sisters once again...
Sunday, March 14, 2010
The Recoup Recap
Well, it's been quite a little while since I blogged. Trying to get back to where I was, and making ends meet since my job laid me off for daring to have a stroke on their time. It seems that juggling medications, disability, and life is just day to day complex. I'd rather have a job to be honest. Okay, a nice paying job with great cheep benefits, a hour lunch, and a masseuse, if I had a choice.
So, why didn't i blog since July? Typing is still a bit hard, and thank god for the spellchecker. Sometimes I press multiple letters. I don't know if i can explain how I feel, it's like my brain is trying to control someone Else's body, since I am continuing to rewire new synapses. Like playing your old Atari 2600 with that old broken joystick you can't quite make go left and the button is twitchy. I think that's a fair assessment, really. Walking is like doing a constant sobriety test, making sure all those automatic responses you've learned since being a baby is checked off for each step. It is like being a baby again, but thankfully without the diaper and the green mushy poo. Probably too much detail, huh?
My eyesight is still questionable, but I did expect that to be the last part to heal. People I meet from before are amazed I can walk and do things like I never lost any ability. And, people who don't know me think I'm just a lazy bastard when Whitney has to lift heavy things for us at the store, or get out of a parked handicapped labeled car with seemingly no problem. Oh, and the lens on my left glasses is so thick it can focus sunlight into a deadly orbital laser. Fear me, humans of Earth!
It's still weird when my left side goes to sleep, or my eyesight goes out a bit, or i loose tight control of a limb and i spill drinks, or can't open a jar I used to be able to. And, it does depress me, but then Whitney reminds me that I did have one of the worst strokes possible, and I bounced back in 5 months when other have been in wheelchairs for years and decades. I don't know what I would have done without her.
The things I've noticed since May? Many people are douches and park in handicapped spots because it's convenient and no one traffics the tags. how complex doing everything that was previously automatic really is. Baby kittens smell like baby powder until the first month, then they smell like a stinky cat. The type of shoes do matter. The movie "meet Dave" not only is like a stroke, but is so bad, it can induce one as well. Medications are friken expensive. Beatles Rockband is great therapy. I miss Conan O'brian. Jay Leno is an ass. Douchy guys think women find them attractive when they hawk a logie. If I didn't have a stroke I would have never been able to see every season of Law and Order SVU and CI. And, Food network, Pawn Stars, and TruTV are addicting.
Anyway, a heads up. And next time, it's news about the kitten sisters, speaking of smelly cats.
P.S. Thank you spellchecker again.
So, why didn't i blog since July? Typing is still a bit hard, and thank god for the spellchecker. Sometimes I press multiple letters. I don't know if i can explain how I feel, it's like my brain is trying to control someone Else's body, since I am continuing to rewire new synapses. Like playing your old Atari 2600 with that old broken joystick you can't quite make go left and the button is twitchy. I think that's a fair assessment, really. Walking is like doing a constant sobriety test, making sure all those automatic responses you've learned since being a baby is checked off for each step. It is like being a baby again, but thankfully without the diaper and the green mushy poo. Probably too much detail, huh?
My eyesight is still questionable, but I did expect that to be the last part to heal. People I meet from before are amazed I can walk and do things like I never lost any ability. And, people who don't know me think I'm just a lazy bastard when Whitney has to lift heavy things for us at the store, or get out of a parked handicapped labeled car with seemingly no problem. Oh, and the lens on my left glasses is so thick it can focus sunlight into a deadly orbital laser. Fear me, humans of Earth!
It's still weird when my left side goes to sleep, or my eyesight goes out a bit, or i loose tight control of a limb and i spill drinks, or can't open a jar I used to be able to. And, it does depress me, but then Whitney reminds me that I did have one of the worst strokes possible, and I bounced back in 5 months when other have been in wheelchairs for years and decades. I don't know what I would have done without her.
The things I've noticed since May? Many people are douches and park in handicapped spots because it's convenient and no one traffics the tags. how complex doing everything that was previously automatic really is. Baby kittens smell like baby powder until the first month, then they smell like a stinky cat. The type of shoes do matter. The movie "meet Dave" not only is like a stroke, but is so bad, it can induce one as well. Medications are friken expensive. Beatles Rockband is great therapy. I miss Conan O'brian. Jay Leno is an ass. Douchy guys think women find them attractive when they hawk a logie. If I didn't have a stroke I would have never been able to see every season of Law and Order SVU and CI. And, Food network, Pawn Stars, and TruTV are addicting.
Anyway, a heads up. And next time, it's news about the kitten sisters, speaking of smelly cats.
P.S. Thank you spellchecker again.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Point of View
oh, this is godawful weather around here in Washington, so I'm typing this at 5am when it's cool. Okay, I thought I'd share the experience it was to have a stroke from my point of view.
First let me clear up a myth-conception: you don't feel it coming on. It's not like Fred Sanford grasping his chest screaming that he can feel that here comes the "big one". I didn't notice anything until i just couldn't move my fingers, and had the worst instant headache ever. Felt like a WWF cage match in my skull. I needed to sit down immediately. What happened at this point was my famously high hypertension reached a new world record and burst a blood vessel in me brain.
As strokes go, if you had to have one, select this type, a bleed out. It's the best type to have for mortality rate and recovery. My brain space was filling up with blood and snuffing out nerves with the pressure. In my case it damaged my number 3 optical nerve on the right side, and a cascade of nerves on the left. Usually, a stroke effects one side or the other randomly. Mine started on the right and crossed over to the left, effecting the number 7 nerve on my face, then the limbs downward. Ignoring the massive headache, it feels like your body is falling asleep, pins ans needles and numbness. I made it to bed before my legs stopped functioning, where the headache and brain pressure made me throw up everything I've ever ate.
I should say, t this point, don't screw around, call 911! Your chances of 100% recovery will be much higher the sooner you have medical help. I of course didn't want to go to a hospital, just to lay down in a dark room. But as Whitney, my girlfriend told me later, an I had no clue, was that i was mumbling, my arms went slack, and I was trying to get up but couldn't, like a bird that can't fly, so he just flutters on the ground helplessly.
If you ever saw Mission Impossible 3 when the small bomb went off on Felicity's brain, and her eyes roll all weird and get dark...It was like that. Like a small bomb going off on your brain, but you live.
When the paramedics show up, they aren't delicate. my apartment has scrape marks and dings from equipment and a failed attempt to get a gurney downstairs and in my room. Also don't wear a shirt you want to keep, they'll just gonna slice it off with a knife like an experienced serial killer skinning a victim.
I don't remember anything from the ICU, other that I was being asked the same questions over and over to see if i have any brain damage. I thought it was 1987, but I'm like that normally, and I never remember the date. made me look a bit damaged I imagine. I was there for about 3 weeks with tubes out of my arms and my feet with pressure casts to keep my circulatory system running. I am also told I accidentally scratched my own face and head, I was so burning up, and scratched my leg raw, and those beds are a bitch to relax in. Luckily, from time to time, i was moved o a device called the Stroke Chair that was very comfortable in comparison. Lots of head scans too.
Now I was lucky. I had bleed out, and not a bleed in, so I didn't need any drilling in my skull to alleviate pressure, and got to the hospital in time to lower my blood pressure, so my brain was already healing and draining by the time i got there. Now it was on to rehab to start making new neural pathways for my limbs and eyes through therapy.
The doctors gave me 6 months recovery, but i love proving authority figures wrong and was released to go home in 6 weeks, but that took some very very hard work. And I saw others just give up and not do the therapy. Period. That was sad to see, others just not caring anymore. I drew and walked and played guitar, and Beatles Rockband was coming out in a few months...I wanted to get better. Also it was so unfair to Whitney to stifle her life for my crippled ass. I pushed myself to exhaustion.
And now I'm 95% recovered in my limbs. I even walk without a wheelchair or cane now. I do strongly recommend playing Rockband a lot. Got my fingers and balance back with that. So, if you ever hear anyone dissing video games as pointless wastes of time, tell them how it helped Mr recover from a stroke, and tell them to shut the hell up.
SO, remember to get BP check ups with a good doctor (my former one was an ass) learn about the medication you take (Dr. Ass forgot to prescribe a pill that activates the other pills he gave me). Remember that a Stroke has no warnings, and call 911 without delay. Don't let my misery be in vein. I'm signing off now was the sun is coming up and I'm starting to feel the heat..,.
Least I can feel.
First let me clear up a myth-conception: you don't feel it coming on. It's not like Fred Sanford grasping his chest screaming that he can feel that here comes the "big one". I didn't notice anything until i just couldn't move my fingers, and had the worst instant headache ever. Felt like a WWF cage match in my skull. I needed to sit down immediately. What happened at this point was my famously high hypertension reached a new world record and burst a blood vessel in me brain.
As strokes go, if you had to have one, select this type, a bleed out. It's the best type to have for mortality rate and recovery. My brain space was filling up with blood and snuffing out nerves with the pressure. In my case it damaged my number 3 optical nerve on the right side, and a cascade of nerves on the left. Usually, a stroke effects one side or the other randomly. Mine started on the right and crossed over to the left, effecting the number 7 nerve on my face, then the limbs downward. Ignoring the massive headache, it feels like your body is falling asleep, pins ans needles and numbness. I made it to bed before my legs stopped functioning, where the headache and brain pressure made me throw up everything I've ever ate.
I should say, t this point, don't screw around, call 911! Your chances of 100% recovery will be much higher the sooner you have medical help. I of course didn't want to go to a hospital, just to lay down in a dark room. But as Whitney, my girlfriend told me later, an I had no clue, was that i was mumbling, my arms went slack, and I was trying to get up but couldn't, like a bird that can't fly, so he just flutters on the ground helplessly.
If you ever saw Mission Impossible 3 when the small bomb went off on Felicity's brain, and her eyes roll all weird and get dark...It was like that. Like a small bomb going off on your brain, but you live.
When the paramedics show up, they aren't delicate. my apartment has scrape marks and dings from equipment and a failed attempt to get a gurney downstairs and in my room. Also don't wear a shirt you want to keep, they'll just gonna slice it off with a knife like an experienced serial killer skinning a victim.
I don't remember anything from the ICU, other that I was being asked the same questions over and over to see if i have any brain damage. I thought it was 1987, but I'm like that normally, and I never remember the date. made me look a bit damaged I imagine. I was there for about 3 weeks with tubes out of my arms and my feet with pressure casts to keep my circulatory system running. I am also told I accidentally scratched my own face and head, I was so burning up, and scratched my leg raw, and those beds are a bitch to relax in. Luckily, from time to time, i was moved o a device called the Stroke Chair that was very comfortable in comparison. Lots of head scans too.
Now I was lucky. I had bleed out, and not a bleed in, so I didn't need any drilling in my skull to alleviate pressure, and got to the hospital in time to lower my blood pressure, so my brain was already healing and draining by the time i got there. Now it was on to rehab to start making new neural pathways for my limbs and eyes through therapy.
The doctors gave me 6 months recovery, but i love proving authority figures wrong and was released to go home in 6 weeks, but that took some very very hard work. And I saw others just give up and not do the therapy. Period. That was sad to see, others just not caring anymore. I drew and walked and played guitar, and Beatles Rockband was coming out in a few months...I wanted to get better. Also it was so unfair to Whitney to stifle her life for my crippled ass. I pushed myself to exhaustion.
And now I'm 95% recovered in my limbs. I even walk without a wheelchair or cane now. I do strongly recommend playing Rockband a lot. Got my fingers and balance back with that. So, if you ever hear anyone dissing video games as pointless wastes of time, tell them how it helped Mr recover from a stroke, and tell them to shut the hell up.
SO, remember to get BP check ups with a good doctor (my former one was an ass) learn about the medication you take (Dr. Ass forgot to prescribe a pill that activates the other pills he gave me). Remember that a Stroke has no warnings, and call 911 without delay. Don't let my misery be in vein. I'm signing off now was the sun is coming up and I'm starting to feel the heat..,.
Least I can feel.
Tuesday, July 07, 2009
Progress Report
My progress so far since I have been home: Ive got about 95% of my arm and it no longer looks like a smurf arm I guess, I can play Rock Band at medium finally one of my "long term goals" simply because Beatles Rock Band comes out September and I need to be expert again. I'm starting to use my left leg and I got my swanky new glasses so I dont look like a freak with double vision and space goggles. I can actually read now and more importantly play Left 4 Dead. My PT and OT are going well. My current doctor is a complete bitch and stresses me out. She "yells" at me all the time and she hates my blood pressure machine. She also spits blood out of her eyes like a Brazilian toad if you dont answer her quickly.
I take 11 pills a day to get my blood pressure lower than that of a frieghtened bunny. And I finally got my handicapped placard and ID card. I also filled my prerequesite of going to IHOP for breakfast as a temporary handicapped person. Its state mandated.
I also now enjoy being pissed off at people who abuse handicapped parking or places that arent handicapped friendly. There are such bastards out there who park in these reserved spaces just to be closer to a store or bank. Reading a book, talking on a cell phone or eating a sandwhich.
I'll get more on that later when I can I start typing on my own.
I take 11 pills a day to get my blood pressure lower than that of a frieghtened bunny. And I finally got my handicapped placard and ID card. I also filled my prerequesite of going to IHOP for breakfast as a temporary handicapped person. Its state mandated.
I also now enjoy being pissed off at people who abuse handicapped parking or places that arent handicapped friendly. There are such bastards out there who park in these reserved spaces just to be closer to a store or bank. Reading a book, talking on a cell phone or eating a sandwhich.
I'll get more on that later when I can I start typing on my own.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Beef Wraps and Wrap Ups
Where I left off from the last blog, I suffered a stroke on my birthday and I lost movement on my left side. So, as continued....
My girlfriend, Whitney, mentioned that everyone she knew that was a stroke victim was effected on the left side. Which I thought was interesting. Anyway... the doctors determined that I didnt have any permanent damage to my brain, just some blood on it. I was responding very well to the physical therapy and the tons of drugs including the late night catheters and blood sugar raids that left my finger infected. Thank you student nurses for stabbing the same finger over and over. The nurses I had were wonderful and kept me calm. Even the ones that hit me in the face with my gait belt by mistake and caught my foot in the bed rail. Whitney stayed every night by my side and only went home to feed the cat. She even rubbed the toy cat on my real cat and brought it to me so I would still feel like my kitten was there. So enter, comfort kitty, which purrs, kneeds, and meows. If it pooped and bitched, it would be just like having Josie there.
I dont remember anything about the week stay in the ICU except flashing the nurses and using the excuse that it was my birthday, which was true. At least that is what I was told I did. I remember most of my 2 1/2 week stay at 4 west rehab, including the food which was dry and tastless and the applesauce tasted like monkey poop, but they had wonderful cheeseburgers and beef wraps. Which I only found out a few days before I left that I could special order.
Now I am finally home with improved vision, I can slightly move my left leg, but I cant play video games yet, which really sucks, but I know it will bac sooner that I think cause I NEED to play Beatles Rock Band when it comes out. I'll update later as things go by.
My girlfriend, Whitney, mentioned that everyone she knew that was a stroke victim was effected on the left side. Which I thought was interesting. Anyway... the doctors determined that I didnt have any permanent damage to my brain, just some blood on it. I was responding very well to the physical therapy and the tons of drugs including the late night catheters and blood sugar raids that left my finger infected. Thank you student nurses for stabbing the same finger over and over. The nurses I had were wonderful and kept me calm. Even the ones that hit me in the face with my gait belt by mistake and caught my foot in the bed rail. Whitney stayed every night by my side and only went home to feed the cat. She even rubbed the toy cat on my real cat and brought it to me so I would still feel like my kitten was there. So enter, comfort kitty, which purrs, kneeds, and meows. If it pooped and bitched, it would be just like having Josie there.
I dont remember anything about the week stay in the ICU except flashing the nurses and using the excuse that it was my birthday, which was true. At least that is what I was told I did. I remember most of my 2 1/2 week stay at 4 west rehab, including the food which was dry and tastless and the applesauce tasted like monkey poop, but they had wonderful cheeseburgers and beef wraps. Which I only found out a few days before I left that I could special order.
Now I am finally home with improved vision, I can slightly move my left leg, but I cant play video games yet, which really sucks, but I know it will bac sooner that I think cause I NEED to play Beatles Rock Band when it comes out. I'll update later as things go by.
Monday, June 15, 2009
The birthday curse strikes/my fear of Guitar Hero
I promised I would blog, but I have been in the hospital for almost a month. As past readers would know, I have a birthday curse. Even though I gave my best efforts to avoid it, it struck back with vengeance. I was playing Guitar Hero: World Tour awaiting the face-melting lead in Billy Idols "Rebel Yell", when I was struck down by a stroke which literally melted my face. Which leads me to believe that either Guitar Hero is a portal to Hell, or Billy Idol is the demon spawn. And mind you that this is after I broke my phone at work by dropping it in the toilet and being locked out of my work for half an hour. I thought going home was the safest bet. Actually, now that I think about it, it was the safest because I could have been on a forklift or using power tools. Then Whitney saved my life just by being there and calling the ambulance because the cat cant call anyone because she doesn't have opposable thumbs. Damn evolution. When the ambulance came for me, they stuck tubes up places that tubes do not belong and shaved parts of my body without even asking. And I was shipped away to Southwest Washington Medical.
I was in ICU for a week with almost no food or water and tons of IVs and student nurses who cause finger infections for blood sugar tests. I was finally released to the inpatient rehabilitation wing of the hospital where I had the worst room mate you could ever hope for. He was always bitching and shat himself constantly. His farts woke up the dead. Literally, I mean, there were a few people from the morgue downstairs wandering around trying to figure out how big of a duck it was that could have been stepped on. I thought dogs had snuck into the room and took large dumps at my feet. He also watched sports constantly on the TV he hogged. I HATE sports. Not only that, he watched the ESPN highlights of the sports he just saw.
The IVs gave me a painful blood clot and nurse Barry wacked me in the eye with a gait belt.
...to be continued...
I was in ICU for a week with almost no food or water and tons of IVs and student nurses who cause finger infections for blood sugar tests. I was finally released to the inpatient rehabilitation wing of the hospital where I had the worst room mate you could ever hope for. He was always bitching and shat himself constantly. His farts woke up the dead. Literally, I mean, there were a few people from the morgue downstairs wandering around trying to figure out how big of a duck it was that could have been stepped on. I thought dogs had snuck into the room and took large dumps at my feet. He also watched sports constantly on the TV he hogged. I HATE sports. Not only that, he watched the ESPN highlights of the sports he just saw.
The IVs gave me a painful blood clot and nurse Barry wacked me in the eye with a gait belt.
...to be continued...
Friday, May 15, 2009
Meanwhile...
Yes, It has been months and months since I've blogged!
And, "why" you may very well ask. Well, you may. You also might be yelling "I'm out of toilet paper!!!" from the bathroom, hoping your significant other will hear you and toss you a new roll, much like a SWAT might lob a smoke bomb into an unsecured room. Then again, if you were otherwise occupied, you wouldn't be reading this... and then there's always a laptop...
Buy I digress. That's how you can be sure this is me here.
I haven't been writing, because I haven't been annoyed by anything!
I'm in a very good and happy place right now. I am so enjoying my new family with Whitney, and occasionally the "demon cat" with the unassuming name of "Josie". Everyday just seems a good thing. Coming home to someone I love and know she waiting for me to come home as well. yeah. Me. Who'd thunk?
This is the one. Has to be. Her birthday is just one day less than mine. She enjoys all my geekiest moments. Puts up with my tics and quirks. Loves MST3K. And yet she thinks she's lucky to have found me!
Yup, this one is short. But, next week is my birthday, so something is bound to happen. You know all the restaurants are going to be pissed at us for both of us qualifying for free meals. This year, i'm going to demand that instead of the service help singing Clappy Birthday, they do a Rappy Birthday! I can beatbox and throw in some "what up"'s, dawg! That I would sit through.
And, "why" you may very well ask. Well, you may. You also might be yelling "I'm out of toilet paper!!!" from the bathroom, hoping your significant other will hear you and toss you a new roll, much like a SWAT might lob a smoke bomb into an unsecured room. Then again, if you were otherwise occupied, you wouldn't be reading this... and then there's always a laptop...
Buy I digress. That's how you can be sure this is me here.
I haven't been writing, because I haven't been annoyed by anything!
I'm in a very good and happy place right now. I am so enjoying my new family with Whitney, and occasionally the "demon cat" with the unassuming name of "Josie". Everyday just seems a good thing. Coming home to someone I love and know she waiting for me to come home as well. yeah. Me. Who'd thunk?
This is the one. Has to be. Her birthday is just one day less than mine. She enjoys all my geekiest moments. Puts up with my tics and quirks. Loves MST3K. And yet she thinks she's lucky to have found me!
Yup, this one is short. But, next week is my birthday, so something is bound to happen. You know all the restaurants are going to be pissed at us for both of us qualifying for free meals. This year, i'm going to demand that instead of the service help singing Clappy Birthday, they do a Rappy Birthday! I can beatbox and throw in some "what up"'s, dawg! That I would sit through.
Monday, January 26, 2009
And, The Cat Came Back...
It is time to make Spaghetti. The really cool and yummy kind from Kraft Dinners in the green box. But, I'm not eating alone this time: Theres a small black monster sitting in her seat at the table awaiting her cherished pasta.
A few months ago, I wrote about the wonderful time I had sharing my life with two kittens. And the missing part of that life when they were taken away. Well, one day, my friend Nikki called, and we talked about the rain, the park and other things. And, I had to ask about the little black kitten and if she's alright.
It seems she's bothering the family dog, and Nikki has to give her up. When she asked me if I'd like to keep her, I was shocked that i said yes defiantly, without even a thought. That's not usually me, I'm a morass of conflicting contradictions. Sometimes, I can't even choose a pencil if there's more than one.
When she came back home to me, she was tiny, and cute, and quiet, and well behaved. She was timid, but remembered me within the day. She was called Gigi, but never answered to it. I sat her down and we went through names with a soft "J" sound she might like better.
"Gigi? Jenny? Jackie? Jlo?"
She just tilted her furry head, and looked elsewhere for entertainment. That dust ball will do for now.
"eh, Josie...?"
And her head snapped back to me as she ran up and caressed my leg. She had chosen, and it figures she'd want to be named for a "Pussycat". What a nice pretty pretty kitty! So well behaved!
Lets jump to now, shall we?
That tiny fluffball with a wallflower attitude made it to her terrible teens. She's a big solid womanly cat with a loud persistant meow, and gigantic attitude. Loads of personality and ready to headbutt with me on everything. She runs about like she's late for everything and on crack. She only takes the time to look at me, knock something down off a shelf, then gives me a "whattcha gonna down about that?" stare. She rips up toilet paper rolls, and slides across the floor like a runaway train, making me wince when I hear DVDs and glass items crashing to the ground.
I now get instant parental headaches, and I wonder what I did to deserve such a fricken bratty feline. I treat her so well, and sometimes even spoiler her more than I really should. Most times I can't sleep because of her antics, and her nightly attempts to destroy. Why in the hell did I say "yes" all those months ago?!
I get my answer as I type this. A hear the soft padding of paws tromp up to me, and leap up upon my computer desk. She has a plushy jingle ball in her month and looks at me. I hold out my hand and she drops the ball into my palm. I guess it is play and fetch time. We do this for hours. She also brings me her leash, and I know it's time for walkies. This is stuff only dogs do, y'know. And when I come home, she greets me with loud purrs and a hunched leg rubbing. And I know when I fall asleep in my chair again, she'll crawl up and curl into a ball on my chest.
She's my little girl. Pain in the ass and all.
Such is a fathers folly. Maybe I should get her a new sibbling.
Ding! The spaghetti is done! She gets her small plate of simple noodles (her absolute favorite, beyond treats and catnip!), and we talk about her day...
A few months ago, I wrote about the wonderful time I had sharing my life with two kittens. And the missing part of that life when they were taken away. Well, one day, my friend Nikki called, and we talked about the rain, the park and other things. And, I had to ask about the little black kitten and if she's alright.
It seems she's bothering the family dog, and Nikki has to give her up. When she asked me if I'd like to keep her, I was shocked that i said yes defiantly, without even a thought. That's not usually me, I'm a morass of conflicting contradictions. Sometimes, I can't even choose a pencil if there's more than one.
When she came back home to me, she was tiny, and cute, and quiet, and well behaved. She was timid, but remembered me within the day. She was called Gigi, but never answered to it. I sat her down and we went through names with a soft "J" sound she might like better.
"Gigi? Jenny? Jackie? Jlo?"
She just tilted her furry head, and looked elsewhere for entertainment. That dust ball will do for now.
"eh, Josie...?"
And her head snapped back to me as she ran up and caressed my leg. She had chosen, and it figures she'd want to be named for a "Pussycat". What a nice pretty pretty kitty! So well behaved!
Lets jump to now, shall we?
That tiny fluffball with a wallflower attitude made it to her terrible teens. She's a big solid womanly cat with a loud persistant meow, and gigantic attitude. Loads of personality and ready to headbutt with me on everything. She runs about like she's late for everything and on crack. She only takes the time to look at me, knock something down off a shelf, then gives me a "whattcha gonna down about that?" stare. She rips up toilet paper rolls, and slides across the floor like a runaway train, making me wince when I hear DVDs and glass items crashing to the ground.
I now get instant parental headaches, and I wonder what I did to deserve such a fricken bratty feline. I treat her so well, and sometimes even spoiler her more than I really should. Most times I can't sleep because of her antics, and her nightly attempts to destroy. Why in the hell did I say "yes" all those months ago?!
I get my answer as I type this. A hear the soft padding of paws tromp up to me, and leap up upon my computer desk. She has a plushy jingle ball in her month and looks at me. I hold out my hand and she drops the ball into my palm. I guess it is play and fetch time. We do this for hours. She also brings me her leash, and I know it's time for walkies. This is stuff only dogs do, y'know. And when I come home, she greets me with loud purrs and a hunched leg rubbing. And I know when I fall asleep in my chair again, she'll crawl up and curl into a ball on my chest.
She's my little girl. Pain in the ass and all.
Such is a fathers folly. Maybe I should get her a new sibbling.
Ding! The spaghetti is done! She gets her small plate of simple noodles (her absolute favorite, beyond treats and catnip!), and we talk about her day...
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Contractual Obligation Blog
I'm forcing myself to sit my ass down and write this.
Yes, it has been a while since I wrote anything, but I do have a good reason: Life's been too good to me to bitch about. Hell, I probably have 4 or 5 subjects to write about, and then it snows outside, or I feel like a walk, or whatever...and I put off the internet! What?! How can this be?! Look for a pod casing! It looks like Michael, but something just ain't right with dat boy...
So, Let me backtrack a bit.
Let me tell you about my best friend Whitney.
Oh crap, when I say this, it's going to not only sound bad, but I'll actually hear all of you smirk, but we met online. I will now pause for all of you to stop making "internet girlfriend" jokes, and "cyberchat" references. I'll step out for a quick pee.
All done yet? Okay, I'll wait some more and putter about the kitchen. Alright, rein it in, I have a blog to do.
Anyway, we "met" on her net TV show. I loved perusing various video chats and adding my 37 cents. After all, I have brilliant comedic timing, or so I have been told. I also like knocking down the usual rude chatters. And when I made a joke or reference, she actually kept up with me! Not only that, we'd turn out to do a long improvisational sketch, as we'd both be quick enough to keep the jest ball rolling. Naturally, we talked loooong after the show was done, and we became the best of friends. The kind you can talk to about anything, and know they're not trying to find an excuse to be somewhere else.
After six months of this, she got the bright idea to meet for Christmas. I was nervous as crap thinking Chris Hanson was going to jump out at the airport and ask if I could have a seat. What if the internet persona was a ruse? What if she's a homicidal maniac who's going to drop me into a pit and make me put lotion on my skin or I'll get the hose again? What if she's a he, and he's fanatical about his level 80 dark elf in World of Warcraft, and stinks of Cheetos and feet? What if she's Richard Simmons finally coming to get back at me for all the dark (but true) stories I told about him?
Have you ever met someone and it's as if you've known them you're entire life? As if they were a part of your mindset, and you didn't notice the missing part until it was spackled in. From minute one, it was as if we've known each other forever. And It was the best holiday i've ever had...and the quickest. When it was time to go, Whitney started to cry at the airport. I was afraid that people would think I slapped her like I was Sean Connery.
So, my December was quite busy. Oh, and guess who's moving in with me in a few months? Can't help it, she makes brilliant cookies, and the cat likes her. And when she was here, the house became a home.
Merry Christma..er...Happy ne...Inauguration hoedown, I guess...
Yes, it has been a while since I wrote anything, but I do have a good reason: Life's been too good to me to bitch about. Hell, I probably have 4 or 5 subjects to write about, and then it snows outside, or I feel like a walk, or whatever...and I put off the internet! What?! How can this be?! Look for a pod casing! It looks like Michael, but something just ain't right with dat boy...
So, Let me backtrack a bit.
Let me tell you about my best friend Whitney.
Oh crap, when I say this, it's going to not only sound bad, but I'll actually hear all of you smirk, but we met online. I will now pause for all of you to stop making "internet girlfriend" jokes, and "cyberchat" references. I'll step out for a quick pee.
All done yet? Okay, I'll wait some more and putter about the kitchen. Alright, rein it in, I have a blog to do.
Anyway, we "met" on her net TV show. I loved perusing various video chats and adding my 37 cents. After all, I have brilliant comedic timing, or so I have been told. I also like knocking down the usual rude chatters. And when I made a joke or reference, she actually kept up with me! Not only that, we'd turn out to do a long improvisational sketch, as we'd both be quick enough to keep the jest ball rolling. Naturally, we talked loooong after the show was done, and we became the best of friends. The kind you can talk to about anything, and know they're not trying to find an excuse to be somewhere else.
After six months of this, she got the bright idea to meet for Christmas. I was nervous as crap thinking Chris Hanson was going to jump out at the airport and ask if I could have a seat. What if the internet persona was a ruse? What if she's a homicidal maniac who's going to drop me into a pit and make me put lotion on my skin or I'll get the hose again? What if she's a he, and he's fanatical about his level 80 dark elf in World of Warcraft, and stinks of Cheetos and feet? What if she's Richard Simmons finally coming to get back at me for all the dark (but true) stories I told about him?
Have you ever met someone and it's as if you've known them you're entire life? As if they were a part of your mindset, and you didn't notice the missing part until it was spackled in. From minute one, it was as if we've known each other forever. And It was the best holiday i've ever had...and the quickest. When it was time to go, Whitney started to cry at the airport. I was afraid that people would think I slapped her like I was Sean Connery.
So, my December was quite busy. Oh, and guess who's moving in with me in a few months? Can't help it, she makes brilliant cookies, and the cat likes her. And when she was here, the house became a home.
Merry Christma..er...Happy ne...Inauguration hoedown, I guess...
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Snow Day Wanderings
This is how bored we get at my job.
It's a snow day and it's really coming down. No trucks can get loaded (which is sort of what I do), and people are going home early to avoid the icy rains. Well, everyone but the dock crew...guess we're uber important, we just have the humbleness to deny ourselves the fat paychecks of those that sit in offices.
Anyway, when you're on an empty dock, you come up with games to make sure your mind doesn't start to eat off itself out of non-stimulation.
By the way, here's a nice rule of thumb for you all at the workplace: Whenever you have nothing to do, and your boss, or anyone who thinks they're in charge, comes around, NEVER say you're bored. If you do that, they'll make you sweep. Now you're sweeping and bored to tears. So, when they ask you if you're bored, say, "No, I'm intellectually unstimulated"...
I digress...
So, the games we make up are things like "shrinkwrap the sleeping guy", masking tape baseball", and my favorite game, "Movie Mogul"
Whats that you say? Well, where everyone else does stuff like entertainment trivia, our game is that we make up a stupid name of a movie and "hook", and challenge the next guy to come up with a bankable premise as if they're doing a sales pitch to a movie studio bigwig. I always win this game.
My title pitches today were:
"The Kid is the Shits!", a disney travel/buddy pic with any Jonas Brother, and Alec Baldwin, and a singing hen voiced by Miley Cyrus...
A bunch of pre-teens boys have to stay after school and find they all have embarrassing puberty control problems, no matter what social group they orbit in, called, "Boner Club"...
"Oy! That's me Leg!!", an Australian cannibal dramedy from the producers of Crocodile Dundee, with long forgotten has been Yahoo Serious in a career defining role. Meryl Strep as the Dingo Wrangler with a secret...
I've always found if you add singing chickens, you can be guaranteed $30 million more to the budget, and a built in soundtrack CD tie-in. Alec Baldwin will work for a sandwich and if you let him come to your house to wash his pants every now and then. See? Budget is everything!
While we were pitching all this crap, this all reminded me of a TV movie I saw as a child. It had to do with Michael Landon being a olympic medal runner being interviewed about how he became such a fast runner. Michael looks into the camera and starts to get all wavy as he flashes back to his high school days...and being a cronic bedwetter. It seems his cold-hearted mom thought he was just being too lazy and not getting up to "drain the snake", so she hung his bedsheets out the window for the neighborhood to see. So young Michael had to race home, every day after school, before anyone else, to take the sheets down before his best girl and buddies can see that he has the bladder of a frightened bunny.
I couldn't think of the name of this TV gem! Wee-man? Urine Trouble? Running Water? Talking to a man about a horse? I couldn't remember! And this movie was as good as "the Boy in the Plastic Bubble" in awesomeness! We even bet there was a sweet coming of age song at the end about it all, with lyrics like, "...Piss boy...No, no one understands your plight...piss boy...were you much too relaxed at night..."
So we used the company's Internet resources to Google "Michael Landon Bedwetter". And hoo boy, did things turn up! I never knew Susan Sommers and FDR needed diapers too! (by the way, the movie was called, The Loneliest Runner...) How the hell did Mr. Landon get a studio to back an autobiographical movie about his weak bladder? I'd love to see the pitch he gave for a money man to say, "say no more! We NEED to see this on the big screen! Johnson! Free up a soundstage and get this man a production office!"
Intellectually unstimulated. "Boner Club" is starting to look bankable now...
It's a snow day and it's really coming down. No trucks can get loaded (which is sort of what I do), and people are going home early to avoid the icy rains. Well, everyone but the dock crew...guess we're uber important, we just have the humbleness to deny ourselves the fat paychecks of those that sit in offices.
Anyway, when you're on an empty dock, you come up with games to make sure your mind doesn't start to eat off itself out of non-stimulation.
By the way, here's a nice rule of thumb for you all at the workplace: Whenever you have nothing to do, and your boss, or anyone who thinks they're in charge, comes around, NEVER say you're bored. If you do that, they'll make you sweep. Now you're sweeping and bored to tears. So, when they ask you if you're bored, say, "No, I'm intellectually unstimulated"...
I digress...
So, the games we make up are things like "shrinkwrap the sleeping guy", masking tape baseball", and my favorite game, "Movie Mogul"
Whats that you say? Well, where everyone else does stuff like entertainment trivia, our game is that we make up a stupid name of a movie and "hook", and challenge the next guy to come up with a bankable premise as if they're doing a sales pitch to a movie studio bigwig. I always win this game.
My title pitches today were:
"The Kid is the Shits!", a disney travel/buddy pic with any Jonas Brother, and Alec Baldwin, and a singing hen voiced by Miley Cyrus...
A bunch of pre-teens boys have to stay after school and find they all have embarrassing puberty control problems, no matter what social group they orbit in, called, "Boner Club"...
"Oy! That's me Leg!!", an Australian cannibal dramedy from the producers of Crocodile Dundee, with long forgotten has been Yahoo Serious in a career defining role. Meryl Strep as the Dingo Wrangler with a secret...
I've always found if you add singing chickens, you can be guaranteed $30 million more to the budget, and a built in soundtrack CD tie-in. Alec Baldwin will work for a sandwich and if you let him come to your house to wash his pants every now and then. See? Budget is everything!
While we were pitching all this crap, this all reminded me of a TV movie I saw as a child. It had to do with Michael Landon being a olympic medal runner being interviewed about how he became such a fast runner. Michael looks into the camera and starts to get all wavy as he flashes back to his high school days...and being a cronic bedwetter. It seems his cold-hearted mom thought he was just being too lazy and not getting up to "drain the snake", so she hung his bedsheets out the window for the neighborhood to see. So young Michael had to race home, every day after school, before anyone else, to take the sheets down before his best girl and buddies can see that he has the bladder of a frightened bunny.
I couldn't think of the name of this TV gem! Wee-man? Urine Trouble? Running Water? Talking to a man about a horse? I couldn't remember! And this movie was as good as "the Boy in the Plastic Bubble" in awesomeness! We even bet there was a sweet coming of age song at the end about it all, with lyrics like, "...Piss boy...No, no one understands your plight...piss boy...were you much too relaxed at night..."
So we used the company's Internet resources to Google "Michael Landon Bedwetter". And hoo boy, did things turn up! I never knew Susan Sommers and FDR needed diapers too! (by the way, the movie was called, The Loneliest Runner...) How the hell did Mr. Landon get a studio to back an autobiographical movie about his weak bladder? I'd love to see the pitch he gave for a money man to say, "say no more! We NEED to see this on the big screen! Johnson! Free up a soundstage and get this man a production office!"
Intellectually unstimulated. "Boner Club" is starting to look bankable now...
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Thanksgiving Parades are Not What They Used to Be.
I remember the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade so different long ago.
When I was a child, we used to sit in from of our TV set in our jammies with the feet attached, earlier than we'd ever be voluntarily. But, floats! And balloons! Bullwinkle and Underdog with that always limp hand being dragged earthbound by tiny tiny people in colorful sweaters. It was a wonderful and the highlight of the season, apart from Christmas.
So today, I decided to make a Turkey breast and stuffing for myself and the kitten...oh yeah, I have a kitten...which I'll tell you about later. So, anyway, I decided to watch the parade whilst I make the Turkey.
And things...have changed. So, I'm writing this live.
For one thing, I must now place the word "parade" in parenthesis. It's been on for over half an hour and I haven't seen a float nor a balloon, unless it's being slash cut from to Al Rokker sitting in the crowds asking if they're enjoying themselves. All I've seen are stupid song and dance numbers from the same spot, Matt lauer looking like an orangutan with that cropped haircut. And, how many marching bands can you really see? Not as if there's anything different from band to band aprt for the uniforms.
The real "parade" starts in 18 minutes they say, but first, "Under da Sea" stage play performance. It's like a Broadway extended commercial. I think the whole thing started to go downhill when they had the Mayor of the parade, or the king of Turkey, I really don't know, and some chick both cut the ribbon to start the festivities. Firstly, the siccors are huge, then when they are going to cut the ribbon...it was mimed...and someone off camera just dropped the ribbon! Was the ribbon going to be saved for next year? That was a harbinger of doom, I think.
Oh! Nothing says Thanksgiving like Harry Connick Jr. in a helicopter describing what he sees from up there. Everyone the hosts speak to go off like a paid commercial brake. Rokker talked to some girl from Heroes, and informed me it's on 8:00pm Mondays, 7 central.
9:48 am - I am told that it wouldn't be a Macy's "parade" without the high kicking legs of the Radio city Rockeetes. I always though it was turkey and floats, so I have been put in my place apparently. They're performing at the entrance to Macy's, like every other act I've endured so far. Just realized that this Macy's "Parade" is a Macy's promotional flier on my TV screen. How many years did that take for that to sink in? Still to come: Clay Aiken, James Taylor, and teen sensation Mylie Cyrus. No mention of a "parade"...
10:00am - the "parade" begins thank good...with a gaggle of clowns? A Balloon!!!! A Macy's balloon celebrating themselves, but a balloon nevertheless! The effigies of Pilgrim man and Pilgrims woman are marched out, and they say, they're unoffical, so they should be escorted off then, right? Oh. A marching band. How unique and surprising. And a cutaway to the hosts for most of that. A Smurf float! Haven't seen them since skinny ties and Gary Glitter. A smurf balloon, with the fun fact that 30,000 smurfs can fit inside. Ah, there's a Smurf movie is coming out soon, and Matt says's it'll be "Smurfy, and that's a fact!".
Slam on those "parade" brakes! James Taylor is going to sing. I so do love live lip singing. He's done, the float driver pops the clutch, and the "parade" continu...no....commercial. Next up, some generic infectionous boy-pop band will lip sync.
Baton twirling all stars. A Snoopy float with a live Beagle on board, who happens to be showing off his massive swingin' junk. Obviously cold weather doesn't effect dogs. Oh. A marching band. How unique and surprising. A Disney Commercial float of Bolt...and Mylie Cyrus miming a performance, so the "parade" stops again. Nothing is more pathetic than those throngs of kids on floats force to wave for miles. Oh. A marching band. How unique and surprising.
Hula dancing all stars. An odd float of a rhinoceros rock and guys climbing all over it's face, like parasites on a real rhino in the wild! And just like the wild, Shauntel is pretend singing in front of it all. Oh. A marching band. How unique and surprising. We are to say "ola' to Dora the Explorah, on her hugeass balloon. A very disturbing Harajuko Girls float...Japanese little girls with oversize heads and squinty eyes. No joke. Energizer Bunny float...and, he's not moving!!! He might be dead, because that's not like him at all!
The Harley Beats Jumprope team all stars. Sesame Street float, and... crap...with piano virtuoso "LongLong" (?) on board. Can I have a float without a frikin musician, please? OMG! Bob from Sesame Street is still alive?! He must be like 328 years old! Abby Kadaby balloon. Never heard of her. Oh. A marching band. How unique and surprising. Hello Kitty Balloon. Looks like the Abby balloon with a re-dress. My Princess Academy float...and hey! A song with some more cookie cutter teen sensations on board. What the hell? Why even bother holding microphones?
10:30am - Big Apple Circus juggling all stars. Mr. Peanut in his Nutmoble. Didn't I see all that with the beagle float? A float of NYC, with the cast of dirty hippies singing "Age of Aquarius". Unfortunatly, you can't dress like that today without being branded gay. Horses with really fat cops on top. A bent over, looking like he's taking a painful stool drop, Ronald McDonald balloon.
American Dance Theater all stars. A heart balloon. Not the rock band. A bridge float...with "Push-Play" singing straight off a mp3 player. The heart balloon almost killed Meridith and Matt, proving there is a God, and he just gave them a stern warning. Oh. A marching band. How unique and surprising. M&M float...with a Wicked performance. Is every float going to be infested with these singers like deer ticks? A Pincachu balloon, with a quick shot of hundreds of children falling into seizures in the streets. Okay, that's just creative dreaming.
Some kinda American Idol runner up singing on a float of a starship made by a cartoon dog. Seems like justice, i guess. And this is the first time we didn't come back from a commercial brake to some kind of "all stars". Buzz Lightyear balloon. I'm stoked! Foster's home for Imaginary Friends float!!! And i become unstoked just as quickly when they start to sing..and restoked when Rick Astley jumps out and sings "Never gonna give you up"! This is the best "parade" ever! Rick-rolling Macy's!
11:00am - Latin spirited Dance team all stars. A steamboat float with giant bobble heads. Awaiting a songmaker on board...yep...16 year old phenom Charese. NBC's stink is all over this "parade", as the fakey mikes these people sing into has their logo.
Oh. A marching band. How unique and surprising. Spongebob balloon and he has a maniac smile like he has a few bodies in his basement and planning to make a human skin suit. A Jimmy Dean float with Trace Atkins singing some crap, and no evidence of sausages, unless I'm missing a beagle somewhere on there. A pirate balloon, and the telecasters are going straight to hell due to their "arrgh matey" imitations to go on way too long.
Indian dance all stars in polyester. The "dean of green" Kermit the Frog balloon. Oh. A marching band. How unique and surprising. An uncle Sam balloon, chasing...two balls? What are they trying to say? US postal service float, so we all have a boy-band scattin away upon it. Talk about chasing bawls. Oh. A marching band. How unique and surprising. A nice replica of the statue of Liberty float...and no singer?! This is an outrage!
Harold the Fireman balloon. No idea. Business men in suits aping "Stripes". Did they think I wouldn't know? Big Apple float (NYC float numbah two), with the prerequisite singer, Ashanti. For a brief second, I sware I was looking for the "FF" button on my remote. Beethoven the dog balloon, I guess replacing the old Clifford the big red Dog balloon this year. Gibson guitar float with a former Hootie, from the blowfish tribe.
11:30am - Special Needs color guard all stars. A clown balloon, which is one of the signs of End of Days. Some kind of bear float with a singer. Hang on! Wasn't she Summer from School of Rock? Damn, her voice is heavily modulated. Shrek balloon. Oh. A marching band. How unique and surprising.
Oh. A marching band. How unique and surprising. Horton Hears a Who balloon. Care Bears float? Are they even known nowadays? They're probably selling blood for booze and hash in Amsterdam right now. More singers stapled onto floats. The bears are ice skating. I'm in hell.
11:45am - home stretch. Kermit again? He's tiny now, and he's singing on a log. That means reality collapsed on itself, doesn't it? Can't get over the fact there's a man scrunched up inside the log with his hand up the frogs bum. Lots of misques, then Andy Williams is dug up, hosed off, and wheeled into the courtyard to lipsing a Christmas song. Oh. A marching ...you get the picture.
Santa arrives for the release! He's surrounded by people dressed like Thing #1 and #2 from the Cat in the Hat, and 3 "Helium Elves", which I guess means they "huff". I am so done and ready to eat...I suffered so you wont have to.
Happy Thanksgiving!
When I was a child, we used to sit in from of our TV set in our jammies with the feet attached, earlier than we'd ever be voluntarily. But, floats! And balloons! Bullwinkle and Underdog with that always limp hand being dragged earthbound by tiny tiny people in colorful sweaters. It was a wonderful and the highlight of the season, apart from Christmas.
So today, I decided to make a Turkey breast and stuffing for myself and the kitten...oh yeah, I have a kitten...which I'll tell you about later. So, anyway, I decided to watch the parade whilst I make the Turkey.
And things...have changed. So, I'm writing this live.
For one thing, I must now place the word "parade" in parenthesis. It's been on for over half an hour and I haven't seen a float nor a balloon, unless it's being slash cut from to Al Rokker sitting in the crowds asking if they're enjoying themselves. All I've seen are stupid song and dance numbers from the same spot, Matt lauer looking like an orangutan with that cropped haircut. And, how many marching bands can you really see? Not as if there's anything different from band to band aprt for the uniforms.
The real "parade" starts in 18 minutes they say, but first, "Under da Sea" stage play performance. It's like a Broadway extended commercial. I think the whole thing started to go downhill when they had the Mayor of the parade, or the king of Turkey, I really don't know, and some chick both cut the ribbon to start the festivities. Firstly, the siccors are huge, then when they are going to cut the ribbon...it was mimed...and someone off camera just dropped the ribbon! Was the ribbon going to be saved for next year? That was a harbinger of doom, I think.
Oh! Nothing says Thanksgiving like Harry Connick Jr. in a helicopter describing what he sees from up there. Everyone the hosts speak to go off like a paid commercial brake. Rokker talked to some girl from Heroes, and informed me it's on 8:00pm Mondays, 7 central.
9:48 am - I am told that it wouldn't be a Macy's "parade" without the high kicking legs of the Radio city Rockeetes. I always though it was turkey and floats, so I have been put in my place apparently. They're performing at the entrance to Macy's, like every other act I've endured so far. Just realized that this Macy's "Parade" is a Macy's promotional flier on my TV screen. How many years did that take for that to sink in? Still to come: Clay Aiken, James Taylor, and teen sensation Mylie Cyrus. No mention of a "parade"...
10:00am - the "parade" begins thank good...with a gaggle of clowns? A Balloon!!!! A Macy's balloon celebrating themselves, but a balloon nevertheless! The effigies of Pilgrim man and Pilgrims woman are marched out, and they say, they're unoffical, so they should be escorted off then, right? Oh. A marching band. How unique and surprising. And a cutaway to the hosts for most of that. A Smurf float! Haven't seen them since skinny ties and Gary Glitter. A smurf balloon, with the fun fact that 30,000 smurfs can fit inside. Ah, there's a Smurf movie is coming out soon, and Matt says's it'll be "Smurfy, and that's a fact!".
Slam on those "parade" brakes! James Taylor is going to sing. I so do love live lip singing. He's done, the float driver pops the clutch, and the "parade" continu...no....commercial. Next up, some generic infectionous boy-pop band will lip sync.
Baton twirling all stars. A Snoopy float with a live Beagle on board, who happens to be showing off his massive swingin' junk. Obviously cold weather doesn't effect dogs. Oh. A marching band. How unique and surprising. A Disney Commercial float of Bolt...and Mylie Cyrus miming a performance, so the "parade" stops again. Nothing is more pathetic than those throngs of kids on floats force to wave for miles. Oh. A marching band. How unique and surprising.
Hula dancing all stars. An odd float of a rhinoceros rock and guys climbing all over it's face, like parasites on a real rhino in the wild! And just like the wild, Shauntel is pretend singing in front of it all. Oh. A marching band. How unique and surprising. We are to say "ola' to Dora the Explorah, on her hugeass balloon. A very disturbing Harajuko Girls float...Japanese little girls with oversize heads and squinty eyes. No joke. Energizer Bunny float...and, he's not moving!!! He might be dead, because that's not like him at all!
The Harley Beats Jumprope team all stars. Sesame Street float, and... crap...with piano virtuoso "LongLong" (?) on board. Can I have a float without a frikin musician, please? OMG! Bob from Sesame Street is still alive?! He must be like 328 years old! Abby Kadaby balloon. Never heard of her. Oh. A marching band. How unique and surprising. Hello Kitty Balloon. Looks like the Abby balloon with a re-dress. My Princess Academy float...and hey! A song with some more cookie cutter teen sensations on board. What the hell? Why even bother holding microphones?
10:30am - Big Apple Circus juggling all stars. Mr. Peanut in his Nutmoble. Didn't I see all that with the beagle float? A float of NYC, with the cast of dirty hippies singing "Age of Aquarius". Unfortunatly, you can't dress like that today without being branded gay. Horses with really fat cops on top. A bent over, looking like he's taking a painful stool drop, Ronald McDonald balloon.
American Dance Theater all stars. A heart balloon. Not the rock band. A bridge float...with "Push-Play" singing straight off a mp3 player. The heart balloon almost killed Meridith and Matt, proving there is a God, and he just gave them a stern warning. Oh. A marching band. How unique and surprising. M&M float...with a Wicked performance. Is every float going to be infested with these singers like deer ticks? A Pincachu balloon, with a quick shot of hundreds of children falling into seizures in the streets. Okay, that's just creative dreaming.
Some kinda American Idol runner up singing on a float of a starship made by a cartoon dog. Seems like justice, i guess. And this is the first time we didn't come back from a commercial brake to some kind of "all stars". Buzz Lightyear balloon. I'm stoked! Foster's home for Imaginary Friends float!!! And i become unstoked just as quickly when they start to sing..and restoked when Rick Astley jumps out and sings "Never gonna give you up"! This is the best "parade" ever! Rick-rolling Macy's!
11:00am - Latin spirited Dance team all stars. A steamboat float with giant bobble heads. Awaiting a songmaker on board...yep...16 year old phenom Charese. NBC's stink is all over this "parade", as the fakey mikes these people sing into has their logo.
Oh. A marching band. How unique and surprising. Spongebob balloon and he has a maniac smile like he has a few bodies in his basement and planning to make a human skin suit. A Jimmy Dean float with Trace Atkins singing some crap, and no evidence of sausages, unless I'm missing a beagle somewhere on there. A pirate balloon, and the telecasters are going straight to hell due to their "arrgh matey" imitations to go on way too long.
Indian dance all stars in polyester. The "dean of green" Kermit the Frog balloon. Oh. A marching band. How unique and surprising. An uncle Sam balloon, chasing...two balls? What are they trying to say? US postal service float, so we all have a boy-band scattin away upon it. Talk about chasing bawls. Oh. A marching band. How unique and surprising. A nice replica of the statue of Liberty float...and no singer?! This is an outrage!
Harold the Fireman balloon. No idea. Business men in suits aping "Stripes". Did they think I wouldn't know? Big Apple float (NYC float numbah two), with the prerequisite singer, Ashanti. For a brief second, I sware I was looking for the "FF" button on my remote. Beethoven the dog balloon, I guess replacing the old Clifford the big red Dog balloon this year. Gibson guitar float with a former Hootie, from the blowfish tribe.
11:30am - Special Needs color guard all stars. A clown balloon, which is one of the signs of End of Days. Some kind of bear float with a singer. Hang on! Wasn't she Summer from School of Rock? Damn, her voice is heavily modulated. Shrek balloon. Oh. A marching band. How unique and surprising.
Oh. A marching band. How unique and surprising. Horton Hears a Who balloon. Care Bears float? Are they even known nowadays? They're probably selling blood for booze and hash in Amsterdam right now. More singers stapled onto floats. The bears are ice skating. I'm in hell.
11:45am - home stretch. Kermit again? He's tiny now, and he's singing on a log. That means reality collapsed on itself, doesn't it? Can't get over the fact there's a man scrunched up inside the log with his hand up the frogs bum. Lots of misques, then Andy Williams is dug up, hosed off, and wheeled into the courtyard to lipsing a Christmas song. Oh. A marching ...you get the picture.
Santa arrives for the release! He's surrounded by people dressed like Thing #1 and #2 from the Cat in the Hat, and 3 "Helium Elves", which I guess means they "huff". I am so done and ready to eat...I suffered so you wont have to.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Bible of the Bro (part deux)
A bit back, I did promise to expound my wisdom about the male condition to all my female readers. I thought being a "scab" would automatically ostracize me from the ranks of bro-dom. And, sad to say, fear took a grip upon me like I was a lone rebel upon the Deathstar...
How typically male of me! I didn't realize that since my site does have breasts or sports statistics, NO male would ever visit it! This page is like a forgotten realm that anyone with hangy down parts wil never trespass. There's just not enough testosterone to sustain a dudes "dude-atude". He's either have to embrace the fact that he has feelings, or wither and die in the most dramatic way a sick male can. (you ladies with "all man", beer and firetrucks, boyfriends know all about what happens when he gets a tiny sniffle. Hell, I do that too!)
So, once again i'm going to let out the secret handbook of being a "dude":
And in the tradition of a standard bible, i'm bringing today, the Psalms part...
How typically male of me! I didn't realize that since my site does have breasts or sports statistics, NO male would ever visit it! This page is like a forgotten realm that anyone with hangy down parts wil never trespass. There's just not enough testosterone to sustain a dudes "dude-atude". He's either have to embrace the fact that he has feelings, or wither and die in the most dramatic way a sick male can. (you ladies with "all man", beer and firetrucks, boyfriends know all about what happens when he gets a tiny sniffle. Hell, I do that too!)
So, once again i'm going to let out the secret handbook of being a "dude":
And in the tradition of a standard bible, i'm bringing today, the Psalms part...
- Never watch the movie "The Notebook"
- No phone conversations in a public restroom.
- Never dress to match your girlfriend or wife.
- Two men should never walk down the street under the same umbrella.
- No man should ever ride bitch on an other man's motorcycle. (oh, Dr. Jones! How could you?!)
- Under no circumstances is any man allowed to send an emoticon ;-) =) :-p etc. to another man.
- You can't narc out a buddy for showing up to work hungover. You can however harass him as much as possible.
- A man must never wear a Speedo in public. The exceptions are water polo players, secret agents, and dudes who are tough enough to kick everyone's ass.
- If you need to change in a public bathroom use the stall
- No man shall ever feed or be fed by another man, unless the recipient of said feeding is physically or mentally handicapped, or otherwise restricted in any way that prevents feeding oneself.
- There is no reason for a man to watch men's figure skating or men's gymnastics. Ever.
- Unless you're in prison, never fight naked
- No man should ever speak badly about bacon, handguns, beer, Batman, or sex.
- No man shall ever work another man's BBQ unless specifically asked to.
- No man shall have any kind of fuzzy decoration on, or in, his car.
- "If" your girlfriend or wife finds your porn, cop to it. In fact be proud. Real men are not ashamed of watching porn. If your mom finds it, blame someone else.
- No man shall ever be required to buy another man a birthday gift. In fact, even remembering you're buddies birthday is strictly optional.
- If you bring beer to a party and need to leave, the beer stays.
- No man shall complement another mans entire wardrobe, only on individual items of clothing.
- Unless in the entertainment industry, no man shall wear makeup.
- No man shall ever use another mans chap stick. And especially never comment on how it tastes.
- Never call another man while you are taking a dump... A picture message with your cell phone is however acceptable.
Something else I should dispel about men: Although we say no man shall ever touch another mans crotch, by simply using a balled up fist and a quick action, it's not only acceptable, but hilariously fun. But, really, don't we all know why we wanted to "hit" a guy in the jewels in the first place? A little honesty, gentlemen, please.
And finally, no man shall never nickname himself. If you do need to nickname a buddy, the following names are restricted:
Farrah Feelings, Cuddles, Francesca Frenchbraid, Prissytoes, Pippy Premenstrual, Ponyboy, Lee Pressons, Puppyeyes, Marlene Maxipad, Nipples-o-plenty, Sherry Showercap, Frita Fallopian, Sugarqueen, Margaret Goodetiquette, Pinchy Cheeks, Holly Haircurlers, Bunny Corsetzipper, Lashonda Tamponda, Fruitytootie, Fairy Sugartushy, Shannon Sparkles-Like-a-Star, Rainbowfeather, Sissy Glittermuff, McPrancertons, Flowerpanties, Jill Massengill, Stubby, Bellatrix Cervix: Dominatrix for Hire, Swishy McSashay, and Girly Von Curtsy!
No need to hide this now, so go to work and play with these rules with all your guy friends!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
