Gas is SO Expensive That
I Can't Fill Up My Karma

this is what I wish I was last weekend...
also, I promise to try and write shorter entries
I know I'm a wordy bastage...

Sometimes, really, life does bite you in the ass when you deserve it. No, this didn't happen to me. And if it had happened to ANYONE else, I think I would feel really badly for them... but, ahh, for THIS? Justice is blind so it is REALLY sweet when it finally strikes true.

Now, time is very short for me so I won't go into my normal 14 page diatribe about how this person - let's just call her Micky, shall we? ... anyway, about how Micky is a trifling little, lying, conniving, backstabbing, self-promoting little ... B!TCH, okay? Not today. And, NO, I wasn't even trying to find out any dirt about her for the purposes of revenge - that wasn't even necessary.

Okay, okay - here's a short run down on the history of Micky - she dates some schlep and got pregnant and had a child. Of course, let's be honest, we can't be sure WHOSE child it is. No, really. She was sleeping around with 3 guys at one time. Now, that's all good and well and that's really up to a single person... but she was engaged to TWO of them, if I am not mistaken. Naturally, it was the one that was "just a fling" that got her pregnant, again, if I am not mistaken.

Okay, alright - I guess the history is going to get lengthy, lest you think my judgment to be unfair...

Fast forward to present. She is dating this ex-con that we shall now call Bob. Well, Bob got busted some time back and Micky used her position as a secretary in a law office to get the lawyers to help him get out. Well that was nice of her. So now he is on parole... and he has to live at her house. Wouldn't you know it, Bob is a bit of a pushy S.O.B. and really possessive and jealous and catty. He's really a bit of a b1tch, to be quite honest, and both physically and mentally abusive to Micky and her daughter, let's call her Missy. Now Missy has been complaining to Micky about the abusive treatment and has gone to cutting herself and having sex far too young ( umm, 12?) but Micky is totally oblivious to her daughter's needs - she is so wrapped up in herself that it's scary. So she lets Bob stay and actually gets mad at Missy for complaining. Yeah, that makes sense, doesn't it?

Don't we all know this type?

Well, Micky would tell all her friends how she really wanted to get Bob out of her life... yet she never did. Of course, much as she kept holding on to Bob - I think she really just had to have a man in her house, so sad - she continued her habit of screwing around on him behind his back. Yet she also always took Bob's side against her very own flesh and blood.... and insulted her very own daughter for no good reason. Now these are just the "flings" I know of:

1. some married guy - she kept him around for a while.
   
2. this guy she met at a bar one night
3. a kid who just graduated high school
4. a younger brother of a friend of hers - to clarify, Micky is in her mid-late 30's and so was this female friend of hers, who we shall call Patty. Patty's brother just graduated from high school this june (see #3 above) and just turned 19 recently. Patty requested that she please not do it... and she did it anyway... in HER apartment, no less. Nice, yeah? Can't blame him - 18/19 year old males can only think of 2 things -food and sex. Well, maybe 3 or 4 if you add sports or video games... but sex rules the roost for them, generally.
   
5. Her daughter's 18 year old boyfriend (her daughter was 12 at the time and was having sex with BOTH of them) who she let live in her house some time ago. Nice, eh? Yeah, this one was my personal "favorite".
6. She WANTED to add me to the list, too... no thanks. But she talked a lot and definitely gave me "the look of connubial acquiescence" and I avoided the hell outta her. Scary.

Now, she was an attractive enough woman, mind you, but her priorities were ALL screwed up. Here are a few of the really stupid things she has said:

• her daughter, 14, complained of some vaginal itching, etc - all the symptoms of a yeast infection. She calls her mom to ask for an appointment and what does Micky say? - "Are you a f*(ing idiot? You're only 14! You're too YOUNG to have a yeast infection!"
• When she discovered that her daughter was having sex she did absolutely NOTHING about it. Didn't talk to her. Didn't ask her about protection. Nope. I really think she was hoping Missy would get pregnant so she had an excuse to kick her out on her own. Sad, eh?
  
• In order to try to prevent a pregnancy and knowing they were going to be "active", Kirk's mom took Missy to get checked up for being put on the pill. Micky's reaction? She got pissy about it and wouldn't get the prescription filled simply cause she was mad at Patty for actually DOING something about it. Can we be more petty please? Not even TOM can be MORE PETTY.
  

Now, let's add to this tale... Missy dated Kirk, Patty's son... and Kirk? Well, he has a lot of pent up anger and had gotten into the drug scene and really needs to get his head straight too. (How do I know all these people?) Well, he admitted himself into the hospital for, basically, some rehab. He got out a week or so later clean and a lot less angry and bitchy... with the promise to avoid the drugs since he did a LOT of stupid crap when he was on them.

You with me on this?

Well, a few weeks later was July 4th weekend, and Micky decided to let some of Missy's friends come and have a "party" - this included Kirk and Patty's younger brother, of course - how else could she get laid behind/in front of Bob's back without the boy? Patty told Micky to "absolutely not, under ANY circumstances" was she to allow Kirk to drink or to buy ANY alcohol for those kids." As in NO. As in HELL NO, No way, no how, no drinking. I heard her saying this and it was pretty clear what she meant.

But that July 4 weekend, what did Micky do? Despite Patty's repeated demands for no alcohol? She goes right out and buys them cases of beer and some liquor. And Micky KNEW Kirk had just gone to rehab.

Are you feelin me yet? Can you see what I'm talkin about here?

Well Kirk got wasted (.167 BAC) and then upset and cut his forearm to the bone.

What did Micky and Bob do? Well, let me tell you...

First, it was one of the kids' friends that managed to get the wound under control - an ex-marine. He compressed the would and wrapped it and likely, honestly, saved Kirk's life. Then Micky freaks out about the blood everywhere and Bob goes and starts yelling at Missy, saying this is all her fault. Then he goes around yelling at Kirk and calling him an idiot. Meanwhile there is the large and growing puddle of blood on the kitchen floor.

Does anyone see the problem with this?

Umm, yeah - where's the ambulance?

Well, I'll tell you where? Somewhere else. They didn't call it. Micky absolutely refused to call for one. Why? Cause Kirk was drunk. And if Kirk was drunk and the ambulance picked him up at her house, well, they would know he got drunk AT HER HOUSE. So in order to avoid getting in trouble, cause obviously her job was more important than Kirk's life, she decided that they should go and get some neighbor of theirs, Brian, who was ALSO drinking, to drive them all to the hospital. Of course, the idiot had no clue how to get to the hospital and went the LONG WAY. I mean, he went twice as far as he needed to cause, well, he was drunk and she was giving directions.

Let's put it this way, I was having dinner with some friends of mine and Patty was there with us all - we were farther away from the hospital than they were. I drove her and got her to the hospital at least 10 minutes before they got there and they were already on the way when they called Patty to let her know her son was injured. All this time, Kirk was bleeding out.

But, no, her job and her image were more important than this kid's life. Like that?

Now, Kirk's a fairly white kid, but he looked like steamed rice when he got to the hospital. He lost a good amount of blood.

When she got to the hospital, she played off and acted all concerned for Kirk, and claimed that she had no idea he would get this way if he had a drink. Umm, yeah... suuuuure... say it now so that the courts will believe you, honey. Patty had specifically told Micky about Kirk. It disgusted me to hear Micky pulling a CYA (cover your ass) maneuver when a kid's life was at stake. Unbelievable.
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Well, like I said... sometimes life just gets even.

You see? Bob lives with Micky. Has done so since getting out of jail.

And Bob has a friend, who we shall call Neal. Neal was a little hard on his luck (probably another ex-con) and needed a place to crash. So Bob and Micky let Neal crash over at HER house (yes, it's her house). Wasn't that nice of her? Neal has been there now for at least a few weeks, maybe a month or two. Well, they all had a big party last weekend, you see? And they had this great little time, except Micky - who has been wondering why she hasn't been "getting any" from Bob for quite some time. Micky was drunk. Bob was drunk. Neal was drunk. See Micky ache for some booty. See Bob squirm. See Bob confess...

Bob turned to Micky in his drunken stupor and told her...

"I'm gay. Neal is my boyfriend and we've been sleeping together for months."
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So sometimes, it really DOES come around.

So, yes, Neal and Bob... and that's what they do... for each other. Oh Micky... not so fine right now, eh? See? Coulda been nicer to the people that deserved it. Or maybe I'm just evil...?
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I'm the Cool Uncle

Yeah, at least that's what I think.

My niece got married earlier this summer, and here we are, dancing at her reception - see me in the white shirt dancing with her? I'm not quite sure what all the smiles were about, but do you notice that a lot of them were looking at me? I don't get it. I know I didn't have toilet paper coming out of my pants or on my shoes... I'm PRETTY sure that my pants weren't ripped. Hmm... Maybe they were just dazzled by my dancing "moves".

Yeah, right?

It was a really interesting reception, nevertheless. My niece, K***, has been taking jazz/tap and ballet dancing since she was just a wee little girl. If it hadn't been for the accident of genetics (and beeing a preemie), I'm fairly certain that she would be dancing ballet for a major company right now. Really. She's just that good. She was the first her age to ever perform en pointe during the annual Nutcracker Ballet during Christmas season. And this is for the Richmond Ballet - those of you who know ballet can attest to the fact that Richmond Ballet (in Virginia) is probably the 3rd best school in the United States - New York being #1, and I think #2 is in Cali somewhere...

but who remembers #2 ever? Of all the schools that aren't the best, you're #1?

No, I am NOT kidding. Go ask around if you don't believe me.

So I know it really means something when her instructors let her perform that way. Yeah, I know everyone says their kids are great and they could have made it, etc. etc... I'm just repeating what her instructors have said, that's all. No, really. Why would I lie to you?

See, ballerina's have to be more anorexic than supermodels, twice as strong, and of course, talented and flexible. That's just how it is. If you're not AT LEAST 5'9" and have a figure like, oh, the very undernourished Ally McBeal (what was her name???) - ie. a stick - then you might as well accept that you will either never dance for a major company or never dance at all. In ballet, at least. Jazz dancing is much more forgiving... and Kiyo definitely has the skills there... but she LOVES the ballet.

Unfortunately, she's gotten her physique more from our side of the family than her mom's - our fam has big thighs, butts, and breasts. It's true. Works great for girls trying to catch a guys eye, you know? But not so much for the ballet. Ahh well...

Oh, what was the point of that whole shpiel? Ahh, well my niece has always been the ham and the performer. Her reception was half talent show, half party. Her entire wedding party did a dance number for her to "Fever", that sultry jazz number (ya give me fever... baboom boom boom...). The best man played a song for her. Her mother's brother is an amazing pianist and he played something he wrote for her - impressive. Several other friends did readings or other songs. My brother whipped out a Josh Grobin tune, "When you say you love me..." Yeah, very cheesy, very wedding - and the pianist uncle played accompaniment, having heard the song just once (that very day) and sight read through the music. The two of them silenced the entire room - and he really belted that song out but good. There were not many dry eyes left in the house after that song, my sappy ones included. And I'm man enough to admit that.

Yes, I have newfound respect for my brother's pipes. Mine? More gravelly and soulful, methinks... could be due to all the bar hopping and smoke... hmm. Never can tell

And I promise, Part 7 will be coming soon. REALLY.

Half-Nekkid Thursday!

Happy HNT!

Closer than Near
by wopanese
author of the RedneckHooHa blog
copyright 2005

-- verse 1 (guitar intro)
I thought I knew the rules before
And in my face the years to show
But The lines I've earned have never seen the light
Maybe I could have let it roll
But once too oft had bared the soul
And every time mistaken what was right

-- verse 2 (intro drums, keyboard)
Take the turn I take the right
Past the hill to the other side
Was it worth the trouble on the road?
Do any find the perfect answers
Any time for wasted chances
Searching for what you thought you'd never know

-- chorus
Must I see
What I have become
Will I be able
To make it undone
What's this place
How did I get here
Where can I go
Closer than near

-- verse 3
I saw the signs upon the wall
I thought I understood the call
But it seems I've heard again the number wrong
Or maybe I am the fool indeed
For taking time not taking heed
The warnings played again again in song

-- chorus
Must I see
What I have become
Will I be able
To make it undone
What's this place
How did I get here
Where can I go
Closer than near

-- (keyboard improv/jam)

-- bridge
Can you hear me calling?
Can you see my face?
Can you catch me falling?
Can you feel the taste?

chorus x2

-- (outtro via piano)

Cat Daddy

So, yeah, I once dated a woman who had, at one point, 27 cats. At one time. That's as in 2 dozen with 3 to spare.

No, that was NOT a typo. That's 2 groups of 10, plus 1 for each day of the week. That's one for every day in February except for the Hallmark Holiday, Valentine's Day... on non-leap years, natch.

You do know that Valentine's Day went pretty much uncelebrated until Hallmark decided they needed some sales to fill in the long gap between XMas/New Years/Hannukah and Easter, right? Well, that's why all men the world over have to suffer for forgetting one more event each year. Thanks Hallmark. (You're going DOWN).

Okay, so maybe that's not "the real story" but it sounds good, doesn't it?

Now, are you with me on this whole
TWENTY-SEVEN not-a-typo almost thirtynumber-of-cats thing? Good. Now, stay with me here. I know some people mustwonder how this sort of thing can happen. Well let me tell you... this is a blog, after all.

Some years ago I was taking a computer science class at the university and I met this interesting graduate student who worked the computer lab. She had long brown wavy hair and a nice, full figure and a mind to boot. I was an undergrad at the time and she was only a few years older than I. Put plainly, she was curvy in all the right ways back then and I, being single, decided to make an effort at... umm... interfacing with her ports. Yeah, that's it. (Geeky sex innuendos galore.)

Well, after numerous conversations and various flirtings with flirtation on my part, I discovered that her home computer was in need of a hard drive upgrade. Now, matter of advice, when meeting computer geeky chicks, it doesn't hurt to actually be one yourself; I was working full time as a computer tech/programmer while taking classes. Naturally, I put my best foot forward and offered to get her both a great price on the drive plus free installation from me. Are you seeing where this was going? PC dog, baby.

Yes, this basically got my foot (and the rest of me) into her door for some more personal time to try to "get to know her". Yes, we men always try to use our favors of our technical prowess to get to women. We aren't necessarily proud of it, but hell, use whatcha got, you know? Even if it's just geek knowledge of computers - gotta use your whole arsenal with women these days.

Unfortunately, timing intended that it was not the time for me - she was dating/living with some drunkard of an a$$hole at the time so my hopes were dashed.

At the time, she had 4 cats, I believe it was, and one of them, a huge Maine Coon named Apollo, absolutely loved sitting on my lap and, well, drooling as I pet him and worked on her PC. He was a beautiful cat... and apparently a great judge of character - he liked me, hated her then abusive drunk of a boyfriend.

this is a Maine Coon kitten:



The cat wasn't happy about it but we parted ways. We spoke from time to time later on but eventually lost contact completely.

Side note: She apparently tried to get in contact with me about a year later, after she had kicked the habit or, rather, kicked the one WITH the habit to the curb, but made a tactical error in calling my brother's number looking for me and I never received the message at the time. This was not an uncommon occurrence with phone messages routed to me via him.

And you know? Some things never change. He still doesn't tell me things until the last minute... or after. Ah well, guess ya gotta love family, right? I mean, ya gotta... no?

Now, where was I? Oh yes... so years go by and I joined a pool league (8-ball and 9-ball) and lo and behold, who should I be playing on the opponents team then my once erstwhile object of desire but my once lab TA. The years hadn't been very kind to her, but neither had they been so kind to me and we struck up a conversation and exchanged numbers and email addresses.

Yes, it all sounds like such a romantic tale, doesn't it? Ha! If only I had enough web-space to tell the whole tale in all its attendant glory... but I digress.

Over the next few weeks we got to conversing, we got to flirting, we got into promises of a massage from me, something I've been told I should do as a pro - I guess if my music career falters, at least I have a backup, right - we got together, we got into a groove, we got into bed. The rest of the relationship followed a similar pattern - we got together, we got into a routine, we got me to move in, we got into a rut, we got into arguments, we got into fights, we got separated, I got me moved out. But that's not where the cats came in... oh no, them cats came earlier than all that.

Now, I kept paying rent at my house and this always stuck a burr in her side but I had a roommate I was helping out by doing so...

Anyway, at this point, she had, let's see... 5 cats. Then the oldest, Apollo, passed on. This left 4. Yes, please check your figures just to make sure.

So, let's call the girlfiend Catlady for simplicity's sake. Now Catlady was upset and went to take her recently deceased cat to have him cremated. I know. It was the first I had ever heard of someone doing that with a pet but I have since come to learn that it is actually pretty common. So, she went to pick the cat up at the vet and while she was there...

Catlady saw these 3 kittens in a cage, all in need of homes. 1 girl, 2 boys.

Yes, of course they were cute. All baby animules are cute. The girl was very fluffy. She told me all about them when she returned home and said she thought about bringing them home; all the cats she had at this point were at least 9 years old and most were in their teens.

I thought that the 3 kittens would be good for her. They play. They frolic. They do goofy kitten things that make television audiences the worldwide utter a collective "awwwwwwww."

We went later that week to collect the ashes and brought home the 3 kittens. The female, well, Catlady absolutely adored her... yes, this becomes important later in this tale.

Some time later she had to take those 3 kittens in for "fixin"...

Now, why the hell do they call it "FIXING" a cat when that part will no longer work when it's done? They should really call it what it is and say they are "BREAKING" the cat. Am I the only one who thinks this way?

Back to the point, the vet had 6 more kittens in there and they needed a short term house-sitting situation - basically a foster home to keep them for a few weeks until they were old enough to GET BROKEN and given away. Catlady volunteered to take in these exceedingly flea-coated baby kittens to foster.

"Umm, excuse me?" said I. "You ARE planning to give them back in 3 weeks, right?" (We had 7 cats between as at this point - you're keeping up with those figures, right?)

"Of course, " Catlady replied.

Of course. That's what she said. Of course.

Maybe more like OFF course, cause that's where THAT plan went - right off course. 3 weeks came. 3 weeks went.... 4 weeks... 5 weeks.

"Aren't you supposed to take them back now?" I asked.

"I decided to keep them, " she said.

"YOU decided? Umm, hey, I'm the one that has to clean the litter boxes and buy all this extra cat food.... don't I get any say so in this matter?" I queried.

"But I lost my favorite just over a month ago..." and she broke into tears.

DAMMIT. I cannot fight a woman crying. It be me kryptonite. I am so weak.

So SEVEN cats, became THIRTEEN cats.

That's right,
Just like that.
We now had
Thirteen cats.

And 1 large and 1 small litter pan went to 2 large and 1 medium litter pan.

And I got the JOY of scooping it up every other day.

Now, I will give her this much credit. For all the multitude of pussy in the house, she really did a very good job of keeping it clean and keeping the cat stench down to a very minimal roar.

No, really. It wasn't bad.

Trust me - I've been in a house with cats that weren't fastidioulsy cleaned up after and it can get VERY bad. VERY VERY bad. Catlady's house was amazingly scent free.... except near MY demesne, of course, the Land of Litterbox.

A few weeks later, she decided to go talk to the county shelter about helping them with fostering cats.

Can you see bad news rolling at me rapidly here?

That's right. A whole month later? 3 more kittens. But what could I do? Someone had actually put them in a garbage bag and tried to drown them in a lake.

People like this want to be treated in exactly the same way. They should get what they want. Killing lil baby kittens. How could anyone be so freaking heartless? You wanna do that? Come talk to me. I'll FIX YOU. Permanent like. I have a big freezer in a basement. In Wop's basement... no one will can you scream... and no one will notice you gone cause that freezer seats 3. Truly.

Anyways, just a week or so later, a full grown really fuzzy mother cat and her REALLY STUPID oversized kitten came to live. That kitten was about as dumb as a can of paint. I mean REAL dumb. He was like the Forrest Gump of cats... only MORE stupid.

My protests at each of these fell on deaf ears.

How many cats are we up to now? Oh, lets' see 13 + 3 more + mom + stoopid = 18. EIGHTEEN. That's 3 large + 1 medium litter pan that I had to now CLEAN DAILY. Do you know how much litter gets... consumed on a daily basis by EIGHTEEN cats?

Well, I only had a week to figure it out cause she got 3 more shortly after that. And I barely had time to stop my head from spinning and shouting "NO MORE" at her at the top of my lungs when another FOUR rolled up into the house.

That's TWENTY-FIVE cats to you and me.

Oh, and by the way, YES, we named each and every one of them. I had finally memorized all those names when she got 2 more.

So that's TWENTY-SEVEN.

I cleaned 5 large litter pans each day. It was heavy. Cats everywhere.

Two more of her cats passed on and one of the first 3 newbies took off and ran away, which left 24. One for each and every hour of the day. Hooray.

Now, I love cats as much as some and more than most, but damn. This was one of the several issues that led to our eventual breakup. Not the only issue, by any means, but one of several. Of course, this relationship did last for some time - 2 years... maybe 3? I think the traumatic memories of litter pan cleanup have forced me to forget some of those moments.

And can you believe that one of the very real reasons I stayed for so long was because:

I was going to miss those cats.

One in particular. That little girlie cat.

Do you notice how, sometimes, a pet chooses its owner moreso than the owner chooses it? Well, no matter how hard she tried, Catlady could never get Girlie, for that is the poor name she gave it, to return all the attention she tried to lavish on her. Me? I tried staying away from her so they could form a bond but no matter what I did, she would come to me. We'd be sitting on the couch, surrounded by cats of course, watching some CSI and *blip bippity bliP* in would trot Girlie. She would walk AROUND Catlady, just out of her reach and then hop up into my lap and put her paws onto my chest and look me straight in the eyes as if to say, "Love me, daddy".

So I would pet her very silky fur, which was one of the reasons Catlady adored her so... and then Catty would reach over and try to pet her and Girlie, well... she was a bit of a picky bitch and she would actually run away and get out of her reach.

To be spiteful, when I told her I was leaving, she refused to let me take ANY of the cats - not even the ones who so obviously chose me. Then she tried to "pawn off" the 5 worst behaved cats on me, saying that I liked them best anyway... which was truly NOT the case. And I would have taken them had I the space. As it was, I really only had decent space for maybe 2 cats, due to my roommate situation (allergic). But it was all 5 or none... so now I have none.

Wop is sad. He has no cats.

Sad Sad Wop.

Scarily enough, the action figure above looks a bit like her... except her hair was brown when I met her. And sort of a brownish grey when I dated her. No, really. But she doesn't wear pajama pants... sweatpants or shorts instead...

And, fyi, the cats were all well fed and attended to and given mucho love-o, for real. Just not enough space in her, get this, 1100 square foot house for all that pussy...
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What's This 101 Things Aboot Me Aboot, Anyway, Eh?

I suppose that in order to fulfill the ever-burgeoning "need" to write this thang, I will go ahead and create me a list such as you've seen 1000 times before... the ever-dreaded 101 Things Aboot Me list. Well, here goes:

1. Most people call me Wop, including close friends, some of whom do not know my REAL name.
2. My real name is Anthony.
3. No, I do not go by "Tony". Tony is that classic Italian DOOD who stands on a street corner next to his IROC-Z Camaro with T-Tops, hair slicked back, ultratight Chinos outlining every hair and inch of his package, silk shirt open from neck to belly button with various gold chains tangling in his sweaty chest curls, with a bright gold crucifix (that is mostly symbolic) and a Saint Christopher's statuette on the dashboard, talkin to people goin by saying, "Ayyy.. how yoo DO-in'?" (Yes, the writers for the Friends' character Joey completely ripped off a Tony from New York.) So, no, that's NOT me.
4. I'm actually Wopanese = Wop (Italian) + anese (Japanese)
5. For the politically correct, that would be Meditterasian
6. My mother is Japanese and generally reserved
7. My father is a very vocal Italian
8. My father scared me as a child.
9. My mother scares me even worse... those Japanese are DANGEROUS
10. I play guitar
11. I play(ed) trombone in band, jazz lab, marching band (high school and at Va Tech), and a funk/r&b/beach band... not necessarily in that order
12. I was made in Japan
13. Actually, technically I think I was "made" in New York, but the final processing and factory production processes ended in Japan.
14. I spoke Japanese fluently...
15. ... until the age of 4...
16. ... I theorize the culture shock of moving to Hawaii had some effect on this.
17. I almost spoke Spanish fluently... since they didn't teach Italian... and now I am barely able to speak it. Use it or lose it, I suppose.
18. I love rice... the real, sticky Japanese style rice - go figure, eh?
19. I am the "cut and paste" master
20. I am one of the original Star Wars geek fans, but I'm so over it now.
21. I think George Lucas REALLY screwed the pooch, from marketing in the "Return", to the acting in Episodes 1 and 2, to making the Force no longer a mystical thing so much as a viral infection (mitichlorians), and this list could go on and on. And the dialogue in Ep3? Let's not even talk about it.
22. If ever I get the chance and have the fame and power to do it, I'd remake those first 3 episodes with a proper script, cast, AND follow up with ep. 7-9, which was the Original plan... until George Lucas got lazy.
23. "Better Off Dead" and "Big Trouble in Little China" are two ofmy favorite movies
24. My best AND worst feature is - "my smart ass response" to anything and everything.
25. My favorite football team - Dallas Cowboys
26. My least favorite football team - Philadelphia Eagles
27. I'm an "Elvis"-man with "Beatles"-man tendencies
28. I absolutely despise the Blogspot editing tools
29. I wasn't a member of the Kiss Army as a child
30. Hell, I hated Kiss as a kid
31. And now, damn, I actually dig me some Kiss... go figure. Total glam out of control rock and roll
32. And yet, I dug David Bowie and Queen... weird
33. No, I'm definitely NOT gay.. not that there's anything wrong with it
34. One time, at band camp, this freaky clarinet player in the band, CG, gave me a ride home (I was only a freshman and he lived in the same neighborhood. No big deal, I thought.) And then, just a mile from my house, he stops the car and asks me if he could give me a, get this, BLOW JOB. Told me he could do it REAL well cause, yeah, "he KNOWS what a guy wants"...
35. Of course I told him no!
36. I'm man enough to admit that, while vehemently telling him to "stop the car and let me out" that small kinky sex factor we each have actually wondered if what he said was true... about it being the best and all - and being I was still a virgin, well..., I'd HEARD about oral sex and figured, hmm... well... But I most definitely told him to stop the car and let me out. He backed off and drove me down the street to my house and we never spoke of it again.
37. Hey, yes, we ALL have that side of us.
38. Yeah, I told some of my friends that he made the offer.
39. No, I never let him give me a ride home again - got rides from other friends or simply walked instead.
40. I played J.V. soccer in high school - quick of feet but not a fast sprinter... strong legged
41. Could have played (American) football, but there were issues with the folks... and with me and jocks at the time
42. Most everyone in high school assumed I was high ALL THE TIME - at least partially due to my half-Asian eyes... and cause I hardly ever got more than 3 hours of sleep a night.
43. I wasn't
44. But it was fun letting the rumors roll
45. I was suspended once and the rumors flew...
46. The biggest story I heard was that a teacher found out I was selling drugs in school and so they wanted to search my locker... but I came upon them and not only did I supposedly knock the sh1te out of the teacher in question but I pulled out a knife on the principal and had to get subdued by the football coaches.
47. That wasn't true
48. The truth was that I had been late to school 6 times without a note...
49. I am an Aries with either a Leo or Cancer Rising, and an Aquarian moon... so they told me. I told them Leo but she insisted I seemed much more a Cancer rising. Having read the description of each, well... I'd have to lean towards Cancer rising, but that Leo one could fit also...
50. I'm INTERESTED in the occult; I find the symbolism and methods fascinating
51. I do not actually PRACTICE magic or wicca or any of the hundreds of other practices
52. I have what they say is a great sense of humor - many claim I have missed my calling as a comedian.
53. I plan on trying to make use of that ability in music and/or movies to let my creative juice have a release and HOPEFULLY somehow make a living with it
54. I am a computer programmer/analyst
55. I am pretty good at it, it helps that I'm, well, smart
56. I am really tired of coding for a company that doesn't show us ANY appreciation for our efforts - ie. no raises in over 2 years... umm, hey, people... the COST OF LIVING is INCREASING. So now I am really making less money than I did 2 years ago. That doesn't make sense.
57. I believe in the Chewbacca defense
58. I was rear-ended by a drunk dude the week before Christmas and he tried to flee the scene by driving off
59. I chased his ass down in my car and got all the info for the cops
60. I was pissed off badly (not to mention the headaches and neck pains I had for months!) so, yes, I got a lawyer and sued.
61. I miss physical therapy - the women there were very fun and, well, attractive to boot - what more could you ask for when you're a man in pain?
62. My sister passed away on April Fool's Day
63. Her last words before her car was hit by the Amtrak train as she tried to cross the tracks with the barriers down were "Oh yeah? Watch this!"
64. That was in 1986
65. Yeah, still miss her
66. Have never ridden on an Amtrak "Dare to Ride the Rails" Train since then.
67. I have a 1972 Oldsmobile Cutlass 442 Convertible just waiting for my garage to get done so the restoration process can begin
68. I own a large 2 car garage... with a lean to that can park my Del Sol... and a workshed built into it... it's a really cool garage
69. ... while not actually my favorite number, what else do people EVER think when they hear it?
70. I tend to be very open and loud and talkative
71. I tend to keep the important details about myself very private
72. I admit to being a bit of an elitist
73. I am an avid reader
74. I've written somewhere in the nieghborhood of 100 songs' worth of lyrics
75. I think that a few of them are actually "good"
76. I'm into many a jam band - something about live improvisation is beyond good.
77. I'm not big into country music - which really doesn't help when you live in Richmond, home of a Nascar race, tons of Redskins fans, and Rednecks galore - I mean, you DO know the title of this blog, don't you?
78. I stargaze
79. I'm conservative about goverment policies.
80. I am socially liberal
81. I'm a gun-toting hippie, in other words
82. Sure, I wish I were an astronaut
83. I could do with losing some weight - hey, I'm an American. MOST of us could do with losing some weight.
84. I own 3 and 2-halves motorcycles. Yeah, that doesn't quite make sense, does it?
85. None of them are currently in running shape - but, HEY, that garage will be ready SOON!
86. At one point, a motorcycle was my sole mode of transport - I think I put about 20,000 miles on that motorcycle that year. I think that almost qualifies for an Iron Butt award
87. I have VERY long hair. Think of someone you know with long hair. Now make it a foot or two longer (appx 30-60 cm longer for you metric folk) and that's my hair. Probably - I know some have longer, like Crystal Gail (sp?), the country singer.
88. If I didn't live in Virginia, I probably would have no idea who the hell Crystal Gail is.
89. I like Black Comedies - Fargo is high on the list
90. I think Peter Jackson did a poor job of doing Lord of the Rings - I really think he misunderstood the work and did a poor job of selecting editorial changes to the text.
91. Yes, I know a movie is NOT the same as a book - but let's not get me started on how he mishandled the changes he made to the basic storyline for purposes of making it mainstream and palatable to women uninterested in fantasy films and people who don't have the IQ of a can of paint.
92. I am forming a band and I think I have a great name for it... wait till I copyright it, then I'll tell you.
93. A lady friend of mine seems to feel absolutely certain that my ex-fiancee wants me back.
94. I am almost 100% certain she does NOT want me back - she likes feng shui and a very simplified lifestyle and decor - me? I tend towards chaos and collections. That alone presented a near unbreachable gap between us when we lived together. But then again, her exact words were "you are magical" so you never can tell.
95. I believe that women sometimes/often tell men they date that they are the greatest sexual encounter in their lives... mostly for the benefit of the man's ego and not wanting to answer the question "Well, who was better?"
96. I wonder sometimes at the dark thoughts in my soul
97. I wonder sometimes if everyone else on the entire planet can read minds... except me. This of course makes me the butt of an enormous cosmic joke, which really wouldn't surprise me at all
98. I don't think the glass is half-full OR half-empty. I think the glass is half-full of liquid and half-full of air, with a lot of empty space throughout due to the actual ratio of empty space between molecules contained therein. IE - I am a realist, not a pessimist or optimist.
99. I usually get about 4 hours of sleep each night - more than that often makes me feel worse...
100. I drive aggressively at times - yeah, like in the morning... and the afternoon... at night too... pretty much all times unless I am VERY tired. Then I drive like grandma.
101. I believe I need more numbers - always overly verbose... go figure

So, there you go. Still awake? Helloooo?

Farewell Party Part 4

So, where was I? Oh yes, I remember now. I was cooking...

I walked back up and around to the apartment, a raging adrenalin rush pounding the blood in my ears and making my hands shake in anticipation of action. V* and S*, the two milfs, were both very apologetic about the behavior of G*...

Now, I'm not trying to "shoplift the pooty" but I gotta tell you, single mom's... mmm, they have that mothering instinct that shows you what TLC should ever be. So, I was the recipient of some kindness and apologies.

What? No, I'm not talking about sex. Damn, you people are all so... eager.

In any event, I went back to cooking meat over fire. Yes, it was just simple burger-fare, but I have to tell you a simple treat - onion salt on one side, garlic salt on the other, and a little black pepper to boot? Very tasty, especially on a juicy burger. That's all that is required of dead ground moo meat to make it a tasty grill...

Time passes and people eat. More Schmirnoffs and Bud Lights for me. I decided to forego cracking open the double-fifth of Skyy vodka so no stripped screwdrivers for me. That's okay, I had a feeling I need to keep a bit of my senses about me... and just then, G* came back up around the corner with one his invited of age friends, M*.

Now, M* was a very cool cat. Just met him that evening and we went into a very interesting and entertaining discussion of music and life and how parties should simply be about having a good time and chillin' out - fights just ruin it for everyone. He had gone down to the punk-asses apartment to try to talk G* down from, well, wherever the hell his head was. (Yes, most of you would agree that "up his ass" would be the appropriate description of where..)

So M* and G* went into the apartment to talk. The rest of the kids were all gone to various places, for the most part, and the rest of us were outside talking it up and drinking, simply enjoying the cool evening air and revelling in the fresh spring-like weather and the company of good people...

Now, this is where my curiosity got the better of me. G* and M* had been talking in there for some time and I decided to walk in and get a reading on the situation. Now, in all honesty, my hands were definitely all grimy from grill mess and charcoal and burger grease and I really, HONESTLY, did have to go wash them. Really. I mean it.

So in I went.

G* was in the process of telling M* how V* and I had talked a bunch of sh1te at him and embarrassed him in front of his (punk-ass) friends earlier and he had "had it up to here" with all that. In fact, he claimed, that was one of the very reasons he was joining the Marines.

Now, to clarify, I didn't say a damned thing to him or his friends earlier that evening. In fact, I had actually made a small attempt at stopping V* from going overboard - a little too little and a little too late, apparently, but I did make an attempt. I, for one, REALLY do not take kindly to being misquoted or misrepresented - I like being right, it's in my nature, and I try to be very careful about what I say. I try to be observant about people and how they are - I end up knowing what hurts people, for good or ill. And if I am angry and just let loose, it's not a good thing, so I work very hard at taking note of what I say so I don't step on people's toes unintentionally. I'll admit that I can be very... unfriendly with my wit.

Well, I know that I said nothing to him prior to "free shot #1" so I just couldn't help but pipe into their conversation and say, "You know, I just want to make absolutely clear that I didn't say a single word to you up there in front of your punk-ass friends" and G* interrupted and started getting all riled up again.

"Oh that's bullsh1te! Why don't you get the hell out of here?" another shove. "I LIVE HERE. Get the f*ck out!!" and he threw some glancing blow at me which caught me right near my right collarbone where the neck attaches to the shoulder. It was VERY minor and I brushed it off as nothing. Again, the thoughts that I didn't want to destroy V*'s son just for being an asshole, at least not just yet. M* interceded and got in front of G* asking him to back off and calm down.

Okay, here's the part where the smart-ass wanted to take a poke back at him without even throwing a fist.

I looked him dead in the eye with just a hint of menace (and a small grin) and said, "That's TWO for free."

Oh, yeah. He was NOT happy about that. He flew off the handle and tried for all he was worth to get around M*, who is larger than G* by more than enough to halt his progress. But G* continued to yell as...

I calmly exited the apartment just as V* entered to confront G* for being so rude. So mother V* and son G* really went and laid into each other with some yelling. V* screaming at G* about how he was being exceedingly rude and screwing up the party for everyone and asking him what the hell his problem was... G* was going off about, well, I'm not quite sure which but he was mad and was yelling back at her. Apparently, he pushed her and she got right back up into his face and then... Here are some of the tidbits I heard:

G* - What the hell you gonna do, bitch?!! You wanna hit me? Go ahead and f**kin hit me then!

*SMACK*.... *smacksmack*

G* - Fine, I'm getting the f**K outta here

V* - Good! And don't ever F**KING COME BACK!

G* - FINE!!

Meanwhile, I had come out and moved my Martin guitar case out of the way of the path to the door. When someone obviously can't hurt you (as exampled by the 2 free shots he had at me which did seemingly nothing to me) then oft-times they then go after your possessions, such as your car or, for me, my guitar. He knows how much that guitar means to me so I thought it a definite possibility for some true stupidity on his part, so I moved the guitar out of the "line of fire" as a precaution....

**SLAM!**

G* appeared out of the apartment door with V* close behind. G* grabbed the plastic trash can on the little walkway and threw it... and it happened to be right at me. On purpose? Don't know - could've just been cause he was blind with rage, but I do recall watching him walk out, watching him grab the can and toss it... at me... then looking up a single question rolled into my head..

"Trash can?"
... *boink* ...
The plastic can hit me in the face and empty bottles went flying everywhere.

At this point, V* ran and jumped on G* and G* spun her around and pushed her halfway over the rail. I flew up the three step landing to get between them but K* was quicker still (and younger and closer - cut me a LITTLE slack, okay?) shouting "Don't hit your MOM!" and started wailing on him in a blurry of fist.

Yes, K* has a thing against hitting women. Me too.

Of course V* yells at K* "Don't hit W*!!" W* would be, well, ME.

I was there less than heartbeat post-K* and shoved my way between G* and V* and removed G* bodily from the vicinity of V*. I then attempted to grab him in a nelson and subdue him - visions of slamming him into the building or the concrete walkway, like sugar plums and gumdrops, were dancing in my head.. K* was slamming away on G* in a blind fury the whole time. Now, with a nearly successful half-nelson, I tried to collar him and slam him into the wall and take him down...

Unfortunately, did I not mention that little fact about fights NEVER going the way you think they will? Well, here is yet another example thereof. See, this little landing was about a foot or two raised above the ground, bounded on one side by the apartment building.. and on the other side, a row of bushes... or shrubbery, if you will.

Are you starting to see what happened next?

That's right, I was pushing him back up the landing towards the apartment door and the 3-person pile of us lunged me into the bushes. I went in back first to the point that all anyone would have been able to see of me would be my two feet sticking out of the bottom of the hedgerow... but I still had G*'s wrist in my hand, the rest of him having been wrenched out in the fall.

So I pulled. HARD.

*WHUMP*

He landed on my chest and knocked most of the wind out of me. K* was steadily pounding on G* still while I grabbed G* up around the neck and arms and had one hand cocked back in case I needed to do more. M* came and hauled K* away, who went to check on V* and eventually crouched into a fetal position, upset at how his rage had simply taken him so far away from his normal "space". M* then pulled G* off of me and that's when he actually noticed I was still in the bush.

"Oh my God, is that someone else down there?" he queried.

"Well, duh. Either that or someone did a really bad job of hiding a mob hit victim in your bushes and left their feet hanging out..." I thought to myself. G* stormed off with C* in tow trying to calm him down again.

So I climbed out of the bushes, made sure I had my gun, knife, and lighter still on me and went and brushed myself off. At this point I felt no pain at all for the adrenalin was allowing me to ignore all of that... but a few minutes later, as I calmed down and, well, had another beer, I felt a burning sensation on my left side...

I immediately joked about the situation to try to lighten the mood - "You know, I said earlier that I wanted to get into some bush tonight, but, dammit, that's NOT what I meant. Guess I should've worded that wish a bit better, eh?"

And that's what it was, that picture (link).

Eventually, G* calmed down and came and apologized to V* then to me. He tried explaining himself but I don't really, honestly think he himself is comeplete aware of the whys of that night... but at least he apologized. He went off to Parris Island just the other day and I hope, for both he AND his mother's sake, that he does well and stays well...

But if he ever gets to free shot #3? Well then... that'll be ANOTHER story. And let's not even talk about the hooha that started after S* and I left the party at 5am! Geez. Can these people spend ONE weekend WITHOUT police intervention? Damn.
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Practicing for FAME

Fueled by the passionate drive for one day achieving fame as a musician and/or songwriter, I have taken to practicing my "incognito" manuever at irregular intervals.

Or maybe I was checking to make sure my shirt didn't smell like pit. I can't remember which.

Sunglasses provided by Wal*Mart, where America shops. No, wait... that's Sears.

Did you know that Sears got bought by K-Mart? Or perhaps it was the other way around. In EITHER event, it is of the not entirely humble opinion of this blogger that they should rename ALL of their stores as S-Mart. And, naturally, their new motto should be:

Shop Smart. Shop S-Mart.

But that's just my opinion.

And I promise, Part 4 will come next - I simply forgot that today would be Half-Nekkid Thursday! Happy HNT!

Farewell Party Part 3

.. as promised, the story continues...

I rounded the corner and headed down the stairs that lay between the 2 apartment buildings. At the bottom of the steps I turned once more and walked with menacing purpose towards the domicile of the punks in question that lay at the end of the building. The door was closed and I could see through the closed vertical blinds in the sliding glass door on the porch that there were some people within, the slow swinging of a few of the blinds a testament to the fact that they had noticed my approach. I knocked on the door.

No response.

I had expected as much so I knocked again, more loudly this time.

Again, no response.

Then I pounded on the door, my ire having raised with each attempt. "Open the f**king door. NOW!" I exclaimed, the menace in my voice obvious.

No response.

As I was more than just a bit annoyed at this point, I put my shoulder into the door, nearly taking it clean off its hinges. "I said, 'Open the godd**n door! This is BULLSH1T!"

Again with the no response.

I considered my options and decided it might be best not to actually take the door down, though the bestial side of my anger truly desired it. So I pounded one last time and added a threat, "Do you really want me to call and get the police involved? Open the f**King door!"

Still no response.

Well, rewind to the night before...

G** had gotten angry in a homophobic episode too lengthy to retell in this tale, the end result of which was that he had broken my friend, S***'s screen door. What's my point?

Well, I stood there and decided to give the sliding glass door a try. Perhaps THAT would surprise them a bit, eh? Yes, I will admit that in my lightly buzzed and very angered state that reason had at least partially left me.

Unfortunately, that door was locked and barred. But as I stared at the people through the spaces between the vertical blinds, merrily talking shite away on my behalf at my ineffectual attempts at entry, my brain latched on to a tiny thought.

"Screen door."

Hmm, well, at least the separation from a man and his beer did not have to go all for naught. So I felt it a fair trade for the aggravation and the troubles he has caused, I separated the screen door from the frame with the thought of fair trade for another screen door in somewhat less than ideal condition. Fair is fair, yes?

As I headed back up towards the front, I saw K* approaching (S***'s younger of 2 future Marines) with one of he and S*'s friends. K* had come down to see what the situation was and as we met at the bottom of the stairs, I handed K* the screen door and told him to go install it. K* took off like a bolt and his friend, C*, approached the punks apartment.

And the door to that apartment opened so I went with C* to the door. I expected the punk at the door to close it before I got there but he did not... so, naturally, I walked right on in.

This apartment is typical of young bachelors who have no money - it was sparsely decorated with second-hand furniture. A small television adorned one corner of the living room area and 2 worm-starving couches lined the walls, upon which most of those gathered sat. The kitchen was even more empty than the fridge, which contained all of 5 items aside from my beer.

The five kids in this place, including G*, were a bit surprised at my entry and they vocalized a protest at how I wasn't allowed in. I went straight to the kitchen, opened the fridge, and grabbed my case of beer, much to the chagrin of the gathered crew. "This is MY beer. I never said you could bring it down here. So I am taking it back. GO ahead, test me."

Yes, I was NOT pleased.

I stomped back to the front door and turned to G* and asked him what his problem is. He in turn did what we in the south call "bucked up". He stood up and told me how I was being 'rude' by walking in somewhere he wasn't wanted. I, naturally, reminded him of the simple fact that, "hey, the beer is mine. You wanna talk about being rude, let's talk about stealing my beer."

The rest of those gathered might have said something but it was drowned out by the conflict with G*. He approached me and chest-bumped me. Now, he has a few inches in height on me, but I definitely outsize him by a good bit (probably too much, really, but we're not talking about my figure right now, are we?)

He insulted me about that aforementioned figure, in fact. In all honesty, he wasn't really making much sense - he was simply a bundle of anger and I just wanted to know what his problem is. So I asked him. Oh, I believe his actual words were "fat f**k", but I could be mistaken.

His response was to insult me again and tell me that I needed to leave immediately. This time he physically shoved me out the door. I suppose he expected me to fall but I did not - I DID have to take 3 steps to stop my backwards progress. All this time I simply asked him these questions, "G*. Why are you doing this? What are you so mad about?"

He then told me I had 5 seconds to leave or he was going to, I believe the phrase was "kick my ass". So I asked him once again, "G*, what is your problem? Why are you being this way? We have this party for you and your friends, we got all this food and drink, and you're really being an ass. Why?"

He started counting down.

I didn't expect him to hit me. I know this kid. He and I generally got along well - we enjoy many of the same PS2 games, of all things, and we both play music. I've taught him some things on guitar and helped him out of a jam or two in the past year alone. I couldn't figure out for the life of me what had pressed him to such a precipice - perhaps it was fear of the changes to occur at actually joining the Marines? Perhaps the stress of the last summer?

"4"

I'm certain that at least part of it was the fact that he couldn't exactly back down in the presence of his peers, even though most of them are worth less than used toilet paper. Whatever the reason, I suppose the sum of all of this was more than I expected.

"3"

I saw K* round the steps once again and was sprinting towards the apartment - I suppose the shouting that G* was doing could be heard all over.

"2"

I turned my head to K*, which basically left G* with a completely free and unobstructed view of my profile. I stood in a relaxed stance with my right arm closer to G*.

"1"

I thought to myself, "Well, if it's coming, here it comes."

*WHAM*

"That little punk-ass hit me," I thought to myself, very surprised. He had caught me square on my right jaw, right near the base where it curves back up towards my right ear. My upper body spun to the left and down with the blow.

I immediately spun back up to gaze at G* with a completely calm mask upon my face. Under the surface my lizard brain roiled to be released, to unleash mayhem upon this kid, to let loose the dogs of hell and crush him... Perhaps some of this rage seeped over into my countenance for he had taken a few steps back and his eyes seemed a bit rounder than they had been. Perhaps also he was a bit surprised that his punch, a complete free shot, had done less than he had hoped or anticipated.

I must admit to the evil side of pride at having given him a completely blindsided free shot and still I stood, my jaw hurt a little bit, but I had not moved a step away from the blow nor was I in any capacity disoriented from it, other than the surprise that he had actually come to that line and crossed it. I also enjoyed a bit the look in his eyes as I turned back to face him.

My mind was ablaze with conflicting thoughts about how to handle this situation. I was "strapped", meaning I was carrying my concealed pistol as well as a 5" folding blade knife. The knife is a tool, the pistol for self-defense. I immediately considered the consequences of getting into a scuffle. Fights NEVER work out the way you might envision them, regardless of your training. There is always a scuffle and clothing gets ripped and people go tumbling. I was not about to shoot this kid or even pull the gun for this but I certainly did not want to have it fall out or go off accidentally during a fight. If it fell out, one of those punks from the apartment would suddenly have a live gun with real live and deadly self-defense ammo in it... THEN what would happen? I shudder at the possibilities. Considering his rage and the fact that knives are the weapon of choice in emotionally charged attacks, I didn't want that falling out of my pocket during a fight either.

But I wanted to hit him. I'll admit it. I REALLY want to pound the ever-livin sh1t outta him and I KNOW I could have done it.

And what would the other 4 have done? Who knows? It might have become a brawl with K* getting involved.

But above all things, I looked at this kid, G*. I know his mother. Could I face her knowing that I mangled her child? I couldn't bring myself to do it.

As I was considered all these things, I simply turned to K*, giving him another free look at my profile - my cockiness at having taken one free shot already was really trying to push that fact in G*'s face. "Hey, here's another free look. I'm turning my back to you KNOWING you will definitely hit me with my face turned and I'm doing it anyway." So I was rubbing it in a bit.

And he only swung once. If he had really wanted to "kick my ass", as he put it, methinks he would've kept going instead of just one punch. Maybe he felt he had made his statement. Maybe there was fear? Maybe he thought I'd go down with one punch? I don't know, but, this entered the equation as "he really doesn't want to fight" at the time...

So, I slowly turned to K* and handed the case of beer to him and in a voice thick with rage overbrimming said, "K*, take the beer" and turned back to face G*.

It seemed like I was thinking forever but I know in reality but a few seconds had passed.

Reason and pity for his mother won out over the savage beast thrashing at its cage within to be unleashed... but, never fear, the smart-ass rules all and never stops in me. I turned back to him and put the back of my right hand to him and, while giving him the brush off movement of dismissal with my hand, I said to him, "You've made your choice. Go ahead. Go ahead and go play with your little friends."

Then I calmly turned my back on him, very slowly and deliberately, as if to say, "Here I am... I gave you a freebie... whatch gonna do?" and walked slowly back up to where the rest of the party awaited.

You would think that would cover it all, right?

Nope... there's more around the bend...
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Farewell Party - Part 2



So the party started, slowly but surely. There were 4 guests of honor who would be leaving the following weekend - they actually left town on a bus for Parris Island yesterday morning at 5 am. What an ungodly hour to have to get up at... I generally sneak up on 5am from the backside... but I digress. Now, I know all 3 mothers of these 4 boys and am at least on amenable terms with all of them and know 2 of them fairly well. This little tidbit will become important later on, to be sure.

Now, considering this is technically a tale of fiction, some certain unidentified person obtained alcohol in the form of beer for the purposes of consumption by the 4 guests of honor. Let's be real here - yes, they were underage... but they're heading off to the Marines to become, well, Marines. And where do Marines go? They go to war. I see no moral harm in allowing them to partake if they should choose to do so - and, you know, most teenagers will partake, given the chance... Would you deny them such a thing? It's not like I bought them crack and rented crackwhores and told them to "light up and have a go"...

So.. I got the grill lit up, it's VERY LARGE flames shooting up into the sky as evening fell slowly about us. The 4 guests of honor(GoH) we shall identify as T*, K*, G*, and B* to protect the innocent or unfortunate... So all 4 begin to imbibe from the stock of liquid refreshment that had been supplied for them and their OF-AGE friends... oh, and me and the moms, of course. Yeah, lucky guy, milf's, me, and beer - so yeah, it all started the weekend with a pleasant little note...

Me, 2 milfs, another mom, the GoH's and 3 of their friends all hanging out near the grill chillin out with some brews and Schmirnoff Ice's while we waited for some red meat to cook on the fire...

Now, unfortunately my friend S*** and one of the other moms, V***, lives in an apartment complex which doesn't exactly have the best set of tenants. Around the building in the basement floor lives a group of young... well, let's call them PUNK-ASS BEECHES to be nice (punks for short). Let's put it this way, 2 of them have been seen stealing FREON from the AC units in the complex for the sole purpose of huffing.

Yes, huffing freon.

Yes, it can easily kill you. (link)

I don't know why. When I was that age I was happy with alcohol and a few other thrills and generally avoided the stupid crap that has an odds-on chance of, I don't know, KILLING YOU. Go ahead and call me a wuss. I lived on the edge with plenty of other stunts so I really didn't need to be doing russian roullette drugs.

To add to this misfortune, G** (son of V**) sometimes associates with these misfits and they came around to see what was going on. Well, V** told them they had to leave - she was not about to have those punks cause trouble on this going away party. Perhaps she went a bit overboard with her words because G** got mad... a bit embarrassing to have your mom go off on you in front of your friends, right? A bit of a fireplug, G** stormed off to go hang with the punks downstairs.

15 minutes later, G** tromps back up from around the way and storms into the apartment and returns with a beer. I let it go, though it was one of my beers, figuring some cool down time would be okay... well, that is until one of the kids from inside reported that G** had taken the entire case and tossed it over the balcony to one of the punks from downstairs.

Oh, hell no... I'll pay to have people I know have a good time but I'll be damned if I'm going to be giving beer to some punks who cause trouble, not to mention have my beer stolen. What the hell?

So I immediately went around and down to the apartment to retrieve what was mine...

Do you see the drama building?

More tomorrow.
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Reasons Mondays should be cancelled....

1. They suck
2. Tuesdays are always better, unless Monday is a Holiday
3. They're not Friday
4. That thing called work
5. Did I mention the "suck factor"?
6. Someone actually said, "it looks like you're having a bad case of 'the Mondays'". This is reason enough for a beating, at the very least.
7. They are the first day after the weekend
8. Their existence forces you to not get to party so much on Sundays, which is football day/night
9. Again with the "suck" thing
10. Even after all that hard work at doing nothing but party and enjoy myself, I find myself forced to think to do something so simple as post a blog message worth reading. So even that means work.
11. I work M-F... so...
12. They are the least productive day of the week. Seriously. Followed closely by Fridays - which is forgivable since Friday night is a perfectly acceptable time to stay out late, party, go wild, etc.
13. There is one of them every week - I think that's overkill. We could at least do away with a few of them and no one would miss them.
14. The "suck" knob is automatically turned to 11 on Mondays.

Yes. Long weekend and not enough rest and not enough coffee this morning...

Why? Does it show?
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TheraFlu - It's Not Just for Breakfast Anymore

I think I've run myself into the ground once again. Theraflu to the rescue. I'm sitting here at my roommates computer waiting/hoping for this stuff to kick in. It usually does a great job and I highly recommend it. Of course, I think they should make a "chicken-noodle soup" variety instead of this "not quite lemon" flavor, but it's better than suckin on a bottle-o-Tussin.

Is it weird to HOPE that a medicine makes you feel better so you can get back to work? Thought so. I suppose part of the reason is that today we are having one of our rare and enjoyable "company party" days. Free eats aplenty cooked out on a grill. And you know us men... mmm ... fire... meat... mmmm.

Ahhh well. I guess I'll just have to console myself with the fact that Theraflu and a warm couch beats trying to write code when you have chills, even if a tasty meat sammich is calling you by name....

"wopanese.... eat me"

Yeah, it's a tough call. Have a great weekend.

Wow. Short entry. Hard to focus. Must go ill on the couch... and "NO", I didn't go out partying last night. Nope, that was Wednesday night... last night I went straight home, cancelled on Open Mike (and that was a tough call - the Thursday nighters are almost always a fun crowd), had some stew, and basically passed out.

I know - thrills galore, eh?

Farewell Party

Well, here it is, Happy Nekkid Thursday once more. And yes, I remember something silly like a supposed promise to have a new picture up for this week. Well, okay, here it is...

What?

What do you mean it's from the SAME pic?

C'mon! Can't you see it's ALL different?

Okay, well ya caught me. That's the old one. Indeed.

Before I reveal the "new" pic, which does, indeed exist, let me tell you a little story, take you on a little walk through my world for just a few minutes, if you will...

It all started this April past... it was a warm Spring day and a lady friend of mine, M***, well... not one, but TWO of her children (her two oldest boys) decided to join the Marines. The two boys, the eldest, S**** age 19, and the next oldest, K*** age 17 and just graduated this June, would be shipping out in September.

So M**** planned to throw them a going away party and I told her I would help out - I like her kids and they're, generally, pretty level-headed, as far as teenage boys can be, that is.

Three weeks ago, the planned party of 70-plus people had to get shortlisted because the hostess, who VOLUNTEERED her home decided, at this late time, after four months of waiting, that she didn't want to do it.

Her excuse?

Her husband was going to take 3 MONTHS off from work in order to redo her kitchen and was going to start on the very day of the party.

Excuse me? What kind of weak ass excuse is that?

Let me tell you, I wanted to crawl through the phone M**** was talking on and slap this woman, M's own flesh-and-blood aunt no less, straight up one side of her face and down the other. Not only was that a completely lame-ass excuse, it also COMPLETELY screwed up ALL the plans. Now, with only 2.5 weeks left to scramble for a new location to have this party, we had no time to reserve any possible good candidates such as:

• The sheraton's hospitality suite
• Any number of rec centers
• Any number of neighborhood clubhouses
• Any suite-style hotel rooms
  

All were plentifully overbooked at this point. We were left with calling various friends and associates and practically begging for a place large enough to hold this party...

For the most part we met with, well, little to no success.

So the invitation list shrank to 20. And then we found a house to host! A young lady friend of mine had a house more than adequate for our purposes and she planned to also invite friends of hers - what more could you want for a party of 2 young men going away to the Marines then to have some extra cute 20-somethings partying with you? That's right. I thought it a good match too...

Only one problem. The girl, a party-girl extreme, was a bit drunk when she made the promise (2 weeks pre-original party date) and didn't remember it at all when M**** called her the next week to make arrangements and get directions for everyone. AND, there was the possibility of some of her family coming down that weekend... so we had to hold off until she knew more... We had another possible house lined up just in case, too... that of my new bandleader, Kirk. He likes a good party. Who doesn't?

Well, my luck naturally being what it is, M**** called her on Wednesday and the girl didn't answer the phone... or return the call. Called again on Thursday and she said she would know soon. Now, the party was supposed to take place 2 days from then but we still had no place.

Thursday night? Kirk had to cancel out due to other concerns, which were completely understandable... down to a wing and a prayer

Friday evening? The girl had to cancel on us for family visitation. Great, so much for the wing, eh?

M****, ever resourceful, got on the phone with a friend of hers from out of town and landed us a place to have the party the following weekend. The invitation list was shrunk once again and now the party, for maybe 10-12 people (instead of 20 or 70+) was rescheduled for the 10th and all was well...

On Thursday, the 8th, some phone convo's were had to verify directions to this place.

People were called.
Directions were given.
Meat was purchased.
Beer aplenty was obtained.

Friday afternoon... phone call received. The new hostess of the party? Her aunt passed away and she just received the information. Her home, which was the party destination, became headquarters for the mourning family. What could we do?

Yes. I know. It sounds too ridiculous to believe, doesn't it? Well, these details are ALL true.

So, at last M**** gave in and decided to have the party in her small apartment with just me, her children, and 3 of the Marines-to-be's friends...

And I cooked on the grill and supplied the beer and meat...
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And then some other unimportant details and scuffling ensued And this is what I got for it... a nasty lil scratch. Oh, I guess I shoulda told you about the scuffling. Maybe next picture. But, as promised, it's a new picture!

Here is "the scratch" the morning after.
And no comments about the skin tone - I really do have a tan!
It was a camera phone... really...

The Problem with Heather

Well, she told me I oughta post my theories on why it is that this green-eyed uber-girl from Canada remains single. I gotta tell ya, I've been racking my brains on this topic trying, with what limited information I have at my disposal (that being her blog), to discern exactly why it should be that she doesn't even mention having a P.P. like Steph now has.

FYI - P.P. = Penis Prospect

And no offense whatsoever to the heartbreaker, Princess Steph, but she can line 'em up and knocks 'em down whenever she wants - I think the song Killer Queen was written about her, and I must guess that they are at leat within the same range of looks quality from the pics gathered so far. And one would think that these green eyes would attract the attention of at least 3 in 10 available males in the area... and if you saw this walking your way, I would bet money there would be a bit of a following. Funky Bee has mentioned and agreed that I am not singular in this opinion, as have most people who walk a blog and land on her site.
This lengthy list includes:
Osbasso - who as the initiator of Half-Nekkid Thursdays, has a special insight into beauty seen on the web.
Jenny - from THE Ohio, no less. ( I figured it must be called THE Ohio, since their state university is THE Ohio State University, right?)
Rachel - of the spotless mind asylum blog
Bill - he of the tangents and rants
Big Bill - whose dog loves to smell his farts, so he claims
Locutus of Borg - mentioned because there are plenty of Trekkies out there, I know
... and so on, and so on.

Well, let's take a closer look at this situation... let's list the qualities that, for most men, would shoot her straight to the top of the lists (listed in the standard order of importance for men):

1. hot - so say all the bloggers
2. sexy - ditto
3. has breasts - yes, simply having them is important
4. has nice breasts - yes, must indicate to differentiate between simply having a pair and having a nice set
5. cute - ref your football uniform pic
   
6. has hot friends - see recent post
7. apparently likes bananas - see yet another post
   
8. green eyes - "Oooh, the girl with green eyes who can tame the burning blade..."
9. curvy - okay, so maybe that's my opinion. I'm not into the anorexic model look as I'd break em... but some curves in the right spots? That's A-IGHT.
   
10. long(ish) hair - hair on chicks is great... long hair is better to most men... but, I'll admit that men don't mind em bald either...
11. has flashed the aforementioned nice breasts to win a contest
12. loves sports
13. doesn't mind a good party
14. plays video games
15. competitive
16. sings
17. plays guitar
    
18. cooks

Other items which might be considered by some after the above list can also be noted:

1. has her own job
2. has her own business
   
3. has her own money
   
4. reads
   
5. has a mind
   

Now then, let us take a look at the things that might be keeping the surprisingly missing men at bay:

1. likes video games - and might be able to whip his ass at them. Do you REALLY want your friends reminding of the time she handed your ass to you on Madden? And SHE was using the Detroit Lions?
   
2. competitive - Don't wanna lose to a girl... crap. At anything...
   
3. loves sports - and might know more about them... best brush up on all them football and handball rules lest you get schooled, boy.
   
4. has a mind - crap. This means conversations.
   
5. has a mind of her own - Damn. Miss them good ole days...
6. has a mind all her own - so much for that Stepford Wives dream, eh?
7. reads - oh no, she reads? Will I have to also?
   
8. has her own job - what if it's better than yours?
9. has her own money - She won't need you.
   
10. plays guitar - Hey, can you do better? Or is all you can do is play the kazoo?
11. gets along with her mom - can you say "future mother-in-law"? Eek
12. gets along with her family - I have enough problem family members of my own, thank you
13. is close with her family - which therefore means he will have to be also
14. all items above listed in a bunch - she's probably taken

Hmmm. Maybe they're simply scared they won't be able to keep up or keep you interested. I'm at a loss. Maybe it's them Canadian Men out there, eh? And what's THAT all aboot, anyway?
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of course, this entry was a great excuse to throw arry-ones (that's ebonics for "everyone's") links to blogs and profiles on my page... felt like a good day to throw people all over the blogiverse...

I have a new pic!!

I really have a new pic. Really.

Okay, so this isn't it...

But I swear I have a new picture for you to poke fun of. I promise.
AND I have a whole story to be told for it that came from this weekend past. It was just supposed to be a simply "Going Away Party" and it ended up fitting this blog title so well...

Ahh, the best laid plans of mice and wops...

But you have to wait till Thursday for me to tell it.

No, I won't reconsider.

Yes, yes, I know I suck. Let's face it, I haven't even finished the story that started this blog in the first place... I know, I know. But, hey, I only have the one new pic, okay? So cut me some slack...

On the plus side of this unfortunate weekend, I think we have a bass player for the band!! He's my roommate, of all things, and he used to play in this band called Sugar Creek. Well, of all the "damn, it's a small world" moments to be had, Kirk used to be in the band with James, my roommate! What in the hell? All we have to do is wait till after James gets married, early next month, and then time should become available for that oft-forgotten but very valuable lil thing known as PRACTICE. And then we'll have a band. So riches, fame, hot chicks in skimpy outfits grinding in our music videos, and world domination is that much closer!

Of course, we have no name yet.

During the course of the weekend, several ideas were tossed up:
1. No Town
2. Asians of Good Lutes - we are at least 1/3 asian at this point
3. Piston Toilets - go ahead, say it out loud.
4. Klockwerk Monkeyz - yes, gotta spell it with a 'z' so we can be "kewl"
5. That Band

Of course, several ideas were thrown out as well:
1. Mother Jugg's Love Rockets
2. Piss Poor and Plentiful
3. Bong Water
4. Circling the Drain
5. Used Paper

So any ideas anyone has for a name, or comments to make - please feel free. If we pick your name and we suddenly get famous (*snickers to self*) you will have had a hand in it and will definitely get a BIG thank you! (At least a 42 point font !! )
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Thank Os It's Thursday

Yes, yes, I know. Same old pic when I promised something new... but I have a REALLY good excuse. Are you ready for it? My cheesy excuse for this rehashed Half-Nekkid Thursday pic?

No, I mean, are you REALLY ready for it?

Okay, here it comes..

I was busy.

Yep. That says it ALL right there. I just couldn't get it all done...

Moving right along then...
Last night I played at the last pre-football season Open Mike at my local redneck/country bar and they still don't quite know what to make of me. That's okay - I'm used to it by now. But I did have a few weird "faux-rockstar" moments.

There I was, happily playing my parody of REO Speedwagon's "Take It On The Run" and this seemingly youngish lady was dancing with a definitely older gentleman. She appeared, from the rear (the only view I had of her), to be in her late-20's to mid-30's from what little I could see in the somewhat dimly lit place, and he was definitely rolling up in or into his 50's.

"Well, he's probably feelin' all right, " I thought to myself as she pulled every MTV On The Beach crotch-grinding, nether-region rubbing maneuver she could seem to think of. Halfway through the song they finally figured out that I was actually singing "Take it up the bum, baby" and they laughed and rolled right along with it. "Well, this is a friendly crowd, " I mused.

Shortly after this I played the ever-popular "Vaseline" (my parody to Bush's "Glycerine" - you figure it out) and then went into the bar-pleasing anti-men (and previously blog-mentioned) song "Men Are A$$holes". Of course, someone had spread the rumor that I had written a men's retort to this song and they requested it loudly - this was surprising. One of those shouting loudest for it was the 50 year old happy-to-be-ground-upon dude.

So he walks up to me and says, "You know what? All women have peanuts in their pu##ies? Yep, they're all f@ckin nuts!"

So I played the new song, "Women Are Crazy", which was received well and the night went on for a few more tunes...

Well, you know the MTV show, Jackass? You know Johnny Knoxville? Well, I played a slightly altered version of his cousin Roger Alan Wade's song, "BB Gun" which has these lines in it:

I'd like to... shoot you in the ass with a BB Gun
Lay there in the tall grass and wait for the cops to come
Put a blood blister upon each bun
I'd like to shoot you in the ass with a BB Gun

Well, needless to say, with the crowd already riled up as they were, this song went over well... but that's not the point of this tale.

You see, during this song, the aforementioned seemingly 20/30-year old girl walked up to the stage right after the first verse to whisper in my ear. It was as she walked up to the stage that I actually finally got a frontal view of this... "young" woman.

damn...

let's just say that spring chicken is NOT an appropriate term... and that, well, beauty must be in the eye of the beholder, and I was definitely not a-beholdin it... I mean, I am no gorgeous superfit model, by any means, but...

damn...

I felt dirty. And my eyes got a bit nervous... So anyway, this suddenly scary Susan walks up to me all slinky like... as I was playing and singing... picture your own granny walkin with a slink and giving you that "LOOK" - you know the one - walkin up to you, touching you with a soft caress on the shoulder, leaning in REAL close, and breathily whisperin into your ear (with a little nibble no less!) these words:

"I wouldn't mind if you'd poke me in the ass with somethin' aside from a BB Gun".

Yeah... I couldn't believe it either.

I completely lost my place in the song....

but I did manage NOT run away screaming like a little girly-man...

Still, the show must go on and I don't like bein mean unless it's really called for, SOOO.. I covered up with this:

"Damn... she made me completely lose my concentration there (laugh)... now, where was I?" - kept playing the whole time and didn't let the shiver of fear and paranoia show at all. Of course, my friends that were there got a barrel-belly laugh out of it when I told them later what THAT was all about.

So, that was 2 faux-rockstar moments.

After the show, some complete stranger insisted upon not only shaking my hand, but actually hugging me and rubbing his scraggly 5 o'clock shadow cheek on me.

I was thinking, "Umm... excuse me but, do I know you? Are we somehow related or something?"
"Fraternity brother maybe?"
"Distant cousin?"
"Ex-girlfriend's cousin thrice-removed on her mother's side?"

Seriously though, what is up with some people? I don't mind hugs from friends and family that I know but, dude... for one, you're not completely washed and I really don't have half a clue who the hell you are... What up with that?

I'm not homo-phobic... more like, stranger-careful. I don't hug guys on first meetings...

go ahead and call me a freak for that one.

So, yeah, I was busy. Wish I had a pic of the before and after (ie. back and front) of Miss 30/50-something... so you can see I'm not crazy...