I missed last Sunday. Apologies. I know you all are all heartbroken and disappointed. I actually don't know that, but it makes me feel better to think of you that way. Misery loving company and all that.
I was not able to post last Sunday due to being in Salt Lake City on business. Business, because there sure as shit ain't no pleasure in Salt Lake City. I did my due diligence and was a studious sort during the training the city was nice enough to pay for. Learned some stuff, and did the socializing thing. After a while the Boss stopped asking, "How do you know them?"... "Do you really want to know, Boss?" I did, however miss Game of Thrones (The only show I will actually watch as it airs).
Seeing my Boss eleven days in a row is not ideal. She is cool and all, but... So I took some time... 5 day weekend? Why yes, I think I shall.
Taking stock, all is well... The woman I pined for has moved on, or so she says. I have been known to say "I hope they are happy"... And while true, I harken back to the words of Vedder...
I know someday you'll have a beautiful life,
I know you'll be a sun in somebody else's sky,
But why, WHY, why can't it be, can't it be mine?
Thanks, Eddie.
I took Natalia the Bicycle into the shop to get tuned. Weather is getting brutal enough to make riding a bitch again... Why go riding when it is nice? Anyone can do that!
This weekend marks the close of the 2014 season of Scarborough Faire. I went about six or seven times, made some good purchases. A good season and a relatively cool one temperature wise. I look forward to 2015. I shall again be a "Friend of the Faire". Doug Nasty, Nasty Doug, at your service.
Yesterday, a 5 year old princess queried if I had a girlfriend... Yes, very "Awww". She was very impressed with the fact that I had TWO knives. Gold Digging Kindergartner!!! We lamented with the mother about the teen years with that girl...
Coming up, the schedule gets murky. Work is going to go ape-shit during the summer. I know the project we have brewing is going to start ramping up big time. I feel that all parties involved will take their turn being the bottleneck, causing delays. I am gonna do my damnedest to minimize my time as said bottleneck.
As I am wont to do... a list...
1) This summer sometime, I would like to get to KC and visit the folks. July 4th (on a Friday!) weekend more than likely... The folks have been there a lot for me recently, made a trip down and watched the damn dog for me, so I should put some miles on the ride... 7 months old as of yesterday... 4100 miles exactly. Almost a 1000 of those came from a trip to Memphis. Sad I will not be making that one again in the foreseeable future.
2) In August, there is a little shindig with some friends scheduled in Portland... August is a hella good month to get the fuck out of Texas. I could also scope the scene for employment and see if it is somewhere I would like to set up camp.
3) I would not mind finding someone to make these trips with... I like the idea of making memories with someone.
As to that fact... I joined a free dating site... And you get what you pay for... In my profile, I say I am looking for "someone who is healthy and respects themselves". Apparently, adult onset diabetes is a new form of respect... And morbid obesity is "healthy".
The tricks some of these females try to pull off is impressive. I know what Photoshop is. I know the telltale signs of aspect ratios being jacked with. I also know what "Blur" tool is... I know what is going on when every pick is from a high angle. Sadly, some would need to rent a hot air balloon, to get enough altitude, to get the desired effect.
I also get notices from people in frikkin' Columbus frikkin' Ohio... In my profile, I make mention of my desire for someone LOCAL... I know that if I meet and talk to someone 500+ miles away, they will fall madly in love with me... FML.
I know I am far from perfect, but I refuse to settle. I have high standards. I have a good job. I am not an idiot (for the most part), I have my shit together (for the most part), I own all episodes of "Breaking Bad" on Blu Ray, I have good hygiene, and in the past two weeks I had been told I was a beautiful man, that I will never be forgotten, that I looked damn sexy in a kilt, and have been enticed with a FWB situation... Which is not my bag, but appreciated...
Is it too much to ask for a woman who is intelligent, can hold deep philosophical conversations about Batman, knows the Konami code, appreciates Rockabilly tunes on vinyl, and has a body that makes Jesus AND the Devil want to sin?
OH - If you have something you want me to rant about, hit my up on the ol' facebook. I will take all suggestions, and give them there due attention.
There is nothing like a shorn scrotum... it's breathtaking, I highly suggest you try it,
d
This blog brought to you by the musical stylings of Citizen Cope, Marilyn Manson, Dangerous Toys, Motley Crue ("10 Seconds To Love" - YES!), Mastodon, Tyler Bates, Foo Fighter, The Darkness, Metallica, Ugly Kid Joe, the Beatles, Nina Simone, Gruntruck, Alan Silvestri, Slipkot, Tesla, System of A Down, Kirk Hammett + Orbital ("SATAN!"), and Bob Marley and the Wailers.
Sunday, May 25, 2014
Sunday, May 11, 2014
Maternal Spawning Unit
I have oft said, "Well, my Mom loves me."
Quickly followed by, "She has to. There is a law or some shit."
I have never impregnated a woman, let the cells divide into the parasitic organism, and then molded the amphibious, genetic mish-mash that would be my offspring, into the inevitable Lord of All They Survey... So, I do not get "parenting".
My Mom, despite many, many reasons not to, loves me...
I have scared her since I am old enough to remember. I got behind the wheel of a car when I was three-ish, and sent it ambling down a hill... Seeing as how she had lost one child to this method before, I can not fathom the horrifying depths of seeing it unfold before her again... I would loathe the shit out of a bastard for doing that to me...
I was, and still am, a complete nightmare to my siblings. Growing up, I resented my older brother for being the shining example... I resented my little sister for... well, existing... This was not constant, all the time, all out hatred, more stupid sibling stuff. We did have some moments that pushed the boundaries of all out war though. I never thought of what it did to Mom. My biggest regret would be the lack of relationship with my siblings. Not gonna change anytime soon, because I am an asshole. Sorry, Mom.
I would say our final battle of wills happened when I was sixteen-ish... I was in a particularly bad mood over something completely inconsequential, and proceeded to thrash my room. Threw my bed vertical, found an arrow under said bed, threw it into the closet door... THUNK!... Bookshelves flung about. Then came a pleasant knocking, a gentle rapping upon my chamber door...
When I opened the door, she was standing there, peering at the carnage, holding her jump rope. "Put. It. Back."
"I kinda like it this way," At this point, I think the b-word was was about halfway out... The aforementioned jump rope (Old timey cloth rope, metal spring clasps, and SOLID WOODEN HANDLES), wielded with ninja like accuracy, became a blur. A wooden handle cracked me on top of my head.
When I came to, I decided to fix my room. And apologize...
When I was seventeen-ish, I had escaped to the upper peninsula of Michigan. Sault Ste. Marie. I was conquering the big, bad world... But, needed some cash... So I call Mom. Collect. (Back in the day, you could call someone and they would pay for the long-distance call) (Back in the day, a call outside your area, was called "long-distance" - Young people suck.)
"Hi, Mom. I need dough."
"All right."
"Cool. Talk to ya later. Love ya."
"Anything else?" *
"Nah, I'm good."
Click.
About five minutes later, the fact that it is September 13th is learned. Seven minutes later, the realization that the date has significance is haunting my pea brain. Nine minutes later, another collect call...
"Mom."
"Uh huh?"
"Happy birthday. I suck as a human."
"Sometimes."
"Do I still get the cash?"
"Yes."
"I love you, Mom."
"Uh huh. Love you too, son."
There was a time, where every fiber of my being was in agony. Soul wrenching, mind numbing, hellish torment. I was in a phone booth, in Turkey, and told that my first marriage was ending. I knew the only way I was going to get through that first night was hearing the seven words, from the one person on the planet who I could trust implicitly... I needed to hear my Mom tell me "Everything is going to be all right." I needed my Momma.
She has seen me at my best, seen me at my worst. Known me longer then anybody else. I think I worry her more then the other kids... They seem to be all stable and shit. I am still buying swords... And cool cars...
I got her a gift... I think she wants me to make a phone call to that one person who Mom knows made me happy... I know what Mom wants more than anything. She wants me to be happy. That is the goddamnedest thing about the woman. She wants everyone to be happy. Me. My exes, my friends, my enemies. The only person who she wants to rot in hell, is George W. Bush... And Cheney... She is so fucking cool.
I did call her today. We performed our ritual...
"Thanks for having sex with Dad that one time."
Without fail, the reply, "Oh, my pleasure."
Despite all the trials and tribulations I have presented her with for over 40 years, she loves me. STILL. Boggles the damn mind. I guess it must be that bond that only forms when you squeeze out a pup from the Play-Doh Fun Factory of Life... I just don't get it. No male on the planet ever will.
I could tell a thousand stories of how she played a major role in making me the man I am today. Some good, some bad... But the most important fact remains this... She was, and continues to be, there for me. Without fail. Without hesitation. Without reservation. Mild trepidation... It is me, after all.
Mom, I love you,
dougie.
* - THAT'S A HINT!!!!
This blog brought to you by ZZ Top, The Zombies, The Who, Seether, Def Leppard, Serj Tankian, Queens of the Stone Age, Los Lonely Boys, Faith No More, Slayer, CCR, Gene Vincent and the Blue Caps, Danzig, Cyndi Lauper, and the Talking Heads.
Quickly followed by, "She has to. There is a law or some shit."
I have never impregnated a woman, let the cells divide into the parasitic organism, and then molded the amphibious, genetic mish-mash that would be my offspring, into the inevitable Lord of All They Survey... So, I do not get "parenting".
My Mom, despite many, many reasons not to, loves me...
I have scared her since I am old enough to remember. I got behind the wheel of a car when I was three-ish, and sent it ambling down a hill... Seeing as how she had lost one child to this method before, I can not fathom the horrifying depths of seeing it unfold before her again... I would loathe the shit out of a bastard for doing that to me...
I was, and still am, a complete nightmare to my siblings. Growing up, I resented my older brother for being the shining example... I resented my little sister for... well, existing... This was not constant, all the time, all out hatred, more stupid sibling stuff. We did have some moments that pushed the boundaries of all out war though. I never thought of what it did to Mom. My biggest regret would be the lack of relationship with my siblings. Not gonna change anytime soon, because I am an asshole. Sorry, Mom.
I would say our final battle of wills happened when I was sixteen-ish... I was in a particularly bad mood over something completely inconsequential, and proceeded to thrash my room. Threw my bed vertical, found an arrow under said bed, threw it into the closet door... THUNK!... Bookshelves flung about. Then came a pleasant knocking, a gentle rapping upon my chamber door...
When I opened the door, she was standing there, peering at the carnage, holding her jump rope. "Put. It. Back."
"I kinda like it this way," At this point, I think the b-word was was about halfway out... The aforementioned jump rope (Old timey cloth rope, metal spring clasps, and SOLID WOODEN HANDLES), wielded with ninja like accuracy, became a blur. A wooden handle cracked me on top of my head.
When I came to, I decided to fix my room. And apologize...
When I was seventeen-ish, I had escaped to the upper peninsula of Michigan. Sault Ste. Marie. I was conquering the big, bad world... But, needed some cash... So I call Mom. Collect. (Back in the day, you could call someone and they would pay for the long-distance call) (Back in the day, a call outside your area, was called "long-distance" - Young people suck.)
"Hi, Mom. I need dough."
"All right."
"Cool. Talk to ya later. Love ya."
"Anything else?" *
"Nah, I'm good."
Click.
About five minutes later, the fact that it is September 13th is learned. Seven minutes later, the realization that the date has significance is haunting my pea brain. Nine minutes later, another collect call...
"Mom."
"Uh huh?"
"Happy birthday. I suck as a human."
"Sometimes."
"Do I still get the cash?"
"Yes."
"I love you, Mom."
"Uh huh. Love you too, son."
There was a time, where every fiber of my being was in agony. Soul wrenching, mind numbing, hellish torment. I was in a phone booth, in Turkey, and told that my first marriage was ending. I knew the only way I was going to get through that first night was hearing the seven words, from the one person on the planet who I could trust implicitly... I needed to hear my Mom tell me "Everything is going to be all right." I needed my Momma.
She has seen me at my best, seen me at my worst. Known me longer then anybody else. I think I worry her more then the other kids... They seem to be all stable and shit. I am still buying swords... And cool cars...
I got her a gift... I think she wants me to make a phone call to that one person who Mom knows made me happy... I know what Mom wants more than anything. She wants me to be happy. That is the goddamnedest thing about the woman. She wants everyone to be happy. Me. My exes, my friends, my enemies. The only person who she wants to rot in hell, is George W. Bush... And Cheney... She is so fucking cool.
I did call her today. We performed our ritual...
"Thanks for having sex with Dad that one time."
Without fail, the reply, "Oh, my pleasure."
Despite all the trials and tribulations I have presented her with for over 40 years, she loves me. STILL. Boggles the damn mind. I guess it must be that bond that only forms when you squeeze out a pup from the Play-Doh Fun Factory of Life... I just don't get it. No male on the planet ever will.
I could tell a thousand stories of how she played a major role in making me the man I am today. Some good, some bad... But the most important fact remains this... She was, and continues to be, there for me. Without fail. Without hesitation. Without reservation. Mild trepidation... It is me, after all.
Mom, I love you,
dougie.
* - THAT'S A HINT!!!!
This blog brought to you by ZZ Top, The Zombies, The Who, Seether, Def Leppard, Serj Tankian, Queens of the Stone Age, Los Lonely Boys, Faith No More, Slayer, CCR, Gene Vincent and the Blue Caps, Danzig, Cyndi Lauper, and the Talking Heads.
Monday, May 5, 2014
Cheating... Kinda...
This weekend was primarily spent in Waxahachie at Scarborough Ren Faire...
Other point... The damn dog bloodied my nose on Friday. I was bending down to fuss with bed, she jumped up onto said bed and proceeded to headbutt my nose.
It was about a 4 second delay til a nice crimson deluge burst forth.
All that put together... I am beat... Still behind on a bunch of other stuff as well...
So... I am going to cheat... On Facebook, I posted some "Notes"... These are the precursors to this diatribe...
So... An oldie, but my fave...
Other point... The damn dog bloodied my nose on Friday. I was bending down to fuss with bed, she jumped up onto said bed and proceeded to headbutt my nose.
It was about a 4 second delay til a nice crimson deluge burst forth.
All that put together... I am beat... Still behind on a bunch of other stuff as well...
So... I am going to cheat... On Facebook, I posted some "Notes"... These are the precursors to this diatribe...
So... An oldie, but my fave...
Photos aka "Memory Lane needs 'Caution' signs".
Couple of Christmasi ago, the parents gave me a burned DVD.
It has all the pictures they have ever took, scanned and digitally preserved.
I have been looking through them. Seeing my Dad as a child in 1949. Seeing him as a high school student. Seeing him overseas, serving. Seeing him morph into the man in my memories. Being able to recognize where my memories and the archive connect.
Seeing my Mom as a child in the late 40's. Seeing her with a future ahead of her. Seeing her optimism coming through in black and white. Free of the tragedy that later befalls her.
Seeing how they both changed and are literally fucking glowing when the pictures no longer are of just Linda, just Alan - it's them. The constant.
Seeing the only recollections of an older sister I never knew. Seeing how Mom and Dad persevered after she died.
Of course, there are the pictures of me... that take me back to cold winters in Michigan, blazing summers in Texas, beautiful mornings on the beach, in Biloxi. The pictures that make me think "What was I on?", "Really, hungover on Easter morning?" and "Why did I try so hard to conform to being non-conformist?". Ex-wives... JOY!!!
The one that made me laugh out loud is the one from when I drove to my folks house in Topeka from Seattle. No AC in the truck (but two 12" subwoofers!) so I drove with the windows down. My left arm sunburned to all hell.
There are pictures that bring a wince. A tear to the corner of my eye. Memories tainted by time and betrayal from those in the images.
I see the changes my siblings and I have gone through, through the years. the one endearing, non-wavering entity being Mom and Dad.
Knowing that they have been further, lived harder, and been through more then I will ever fathom... And came through it all loving each other more and more, every fucking day... Humbling.
Mom would say, "It was easy, I had your Dad". Dad of course would say "I just drove."
Much respect to the two people whom I owe everything.
It has all the pictures they have ever took, scanned and digitally preserved.
I have been looking through them. Seeing my Dad as a child in 1949. Seeing him as a high school student. Seeing him overseas, serving. Seeing him morph into the man in my memories. Being able to recognize where my memories and the archive connect.
Seeing my Mom as a child in the late 40's. Seeing her with a future ahead of her. Seeing her optimism coming through in black and white. Free of the tragedy that later befalls her.
Seeing how they both changed and are literally fucking glowing when the pictures no longer are of just Linda, just Alan - it's them. The constant.
Seeing the only recollections of an older sister I never knew. Seeing how Mom and Dad persevered after she died.
Of course, there are the pictures of me... that take me back to cold winters in Michigan, blazing summers in Texas, beautiful mornings on the beach, in Biloxi. The pictures that make me think "What was I on?", "Really, hungover on Easter morning?" and "Why did I try so hard to conform to being non-conformist?". Ex-wives... JOY!!!
The one that made me laugh out loud is the one from when I drove to my folks house in Topeka from Seattle. No AC in the truck (but two 12" subwoofers!) so I drove with the windows down. My left arm sunburned to all hell.
There are pictures that bring a wince. A tear to the corner of my eye. Memories tainted by time and betrayal from those in the images.
I see the changes my siblings and I have gone through, through the years. the one endearing, non-wavering entity being Mom and Dad.
Knowing that they have been further, lived harder, and been through more then I will ever fathom... And came through it all loving each other more and more, every fucking day... Humbling.
Mom would say, "It was easy, I had your Dad". Dad of course would say "I just drove."
Much respect to the two people whom I owe everything.
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