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...
Monday, June 15, 2009
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...
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