Cheap Trick Said It Best

"Want" is a funny, funny word. It is also a very dangerous one.

It's meanings as both a noun and a verb deal with desire for, or a lack of, something.

We all have wants. Even that one person who seems to have their shit completely together has a want. My Mom, the Saint, would agree... she would say she "wants her kids to be happy."

NICE TRY, MUMZIE! I think $1000 should cover it... And yes... I will take a check!

People who truly want for nothing want everyone to feel that sort of happiness. Must be nice.

I can personally say that while I have wants, they usually fall in the realm of easily obtainable things. I want to have a good workout. I want to drive fast and I want no cops to see. I want a drink. I want to have a good hair day. I want to not to go to work. I want my boots to clean themselves. I want to finish laundry. I want to have a good topic for the blog. I want to get some good sleep tonight. I want to see Civil War again.

Then... we get into the not so easy ones... I want Lily to not die. I want to be challenged at work. I want to make my Mom and Dad proud(er). I want to be in love. I want people to not suffer. I want to not be forced to choose between Hillary or Trump. I want to feel the love of a good woman. I want to time travel and just say "Don't do it" to my younger self on that one day... I want to time travel and just say "Do it" to my younger self on that one day.

I am usually found be-bopping around a couple of national chat rooms. Couple of weekends ago* I was in one on a Saturday that has webcams. I have made some friends on this particular site. Gained some notoriety. I fired up my cam, looked at who was on, and was just chilling. I noticed a name I was unfamiliar with, so I clicked on the cam.

It was an attractive young lady, looking to be in her 20's. This site has a more "aged" population. It was kind of nice to see someone younger than me.

I figured she would be getting inundated with messages from the male populace on the site, so I left her alone. Jumped off and went on with my day.

Sunday rolls around, and I jump on that particular site, fired up the cam again, and lo and behold... There she be. So, I jump into the sub chat room she was in. Received a "Hey, HPB!" from a few friends, and I joined the convo. About five minutes into arriving, I decide to hit her with a private message.

Something along the lines of, "Hey, pardon the intrusion, hope your day is going well." or something as equally devastatingly charming!

And I get a reply of, "It bummed me out you did not say Hi to me yesterday when you were on."

SHE had noticed ME... I could literally feel my Ego peering out from it's corner, leaning forward... "Go on..."

We got to speaking, moved over to a nice, more intimate Skype setting, and within hours... We got to know each other... Well.

  

Yes, she is a nice looking lady. Yes, she is flexible. Yes, she lives in Canada. Yes, I am aware of the "fantasy" that is what this is.

The greatest part of whenever we have our "sessions"... Is the way she looks at me. It is a look of desire. A look of lust. A look of unbridled want. It has been a while since I have received that look... and...

Hot diggity damn, it feels good to be wanted. If this sounds like I am bragging, well... Shut up. Let me have my moment! Thank you, oh so mucking fuch!

Here is why receiving a look like that makes the Ego roll over onto it's back and beg for a belly rub like a content dog... 

IF I can receive a look like that from a woman... An ATTRACTIVE woman at that... in a "virtual" setting... Maybe.. JUST maybe... I could do so in real life???

Last weekend, I was in San Antonio. On vacation at a four day event. Me and 350 some odd friends. Last year this event was in Austin and I was introduced to a lady. We exchanged pleasantries. Our mutual acquaintance told me after the event, that the lady was "interested".

Flattered as I was, I was also not interested in a long distance thing. The woman and I conversed ever so briefly on Facebook for a while. I think we were friends at one point. 

On Facebook, unless you are legacy, if you don't communicate directly with me at least one time in six months, Buh-Bye. I will defriend ya. Nothing personal, just them's the breaks, Sweetheart.

Well, she went Buh-Bye.

So... Friday night in San Antonio, I was told, by her, "I waited a year... and came here with the intention of fucking you."

Hot diggity... damn, it feels... good?... to be wanted? 

Couple of things... 1) After a year of build up, WHO THE FUCK could live up to those expectations? I would have to pull out the Roman Sex God handbook or some shit... 2) First I was hearing of this and I have not quite developed my "psychic muscle". How's about a head's up? 3) Would help if I had not been drinking heavily since noon and it is midnight 4) I have never been a fan, and grown out of "hit it and quit it". 5) I have never been comfortable with being another notch on someone's bedpost. Can thank my Sophomore year in high school for that one!

I guess the Ego, when stroked properly with the right implement, can make you feel pretty damn special. And that translates into you feeling more confident... which makes you more attractive... Which makes you wanted...

We all want that. Right?

_________________________________

One of the hardest questions you can get asked is, "What do you want?"

You have to search your soul. Reach down, behind the superficial. Prepare and bolster yourself for the vulnerability to honestly answer that question... Look into that person's eyes and tell them what you want...

Of course, they will listen to your deepest confession of want and reply, 

"No... For dinner, ya sappy bastard. What do you want to eat?" 

Good day, Sunshine,

d

This blog brought to you The Beatles, The Beatles, The Beatles, The Beatles, The Beatles, The Beatles, The Beatles, The Beatles, The Beatles, The Beatles, The Beatles, The Beatles, The Beatles, The Beatles, The Beatles, The Beatles, The Beatles, The Beatles, The Beatles, The Beatles, The Beatles, The Beatles, The Beatles, The Beatles, The Beatles, The Beatles, The Beatles, and The Beatles. (I was in a mood, deal with it.)

* Yeah... took a weekend or two off... One was just "busy", the other was on vacation in San Antonio (Where all the world's humidity is created, lives, and dies)

Gloriously Envious

I am lying in bed this morning. Going through that mental checklist of the agenda. Get up. Get cereal. Check Best Buy ad. Gotta do the blog. Gotta call Mom. Gotta gym. Got landlord swinging by at 4 o' clock...

I am already running late because... I was up late doing... research... yeah, That's what we'll call it...

The trip to the kitchen, accompanied by the checking in of the damn dog, "Ah... Cereal... Nothing for me... Made me get up for nothing... Thanks, Dick.", ended with disappointment.

There was just enough cereal, upon a casual glance, to not make it to the grocery shopping list... But come this morning, not enough to really make a satisfying bowl of cereal. It was like a "cereal tease".

The concept for this weeks offering was lain out Wednesday night. On weeknights, I like to watch a quick, twenty two minute (no commercials, ya know) sitcom, to numb my brain a little before drifting off to slumber land.

The choices were a plenty, but then I stopped on "The Office". The U.S. version. That series will always hit a spot. The writers crafted a beautiful arc for two of the characters. When they finally, really and truly are together, you pump your fist in the air. I would venture because if someone thought it... It could possibly happen. And if is possible, it could happen for me.

It got me thinking of other cinematic romances that have resonated...

Clarence and Alabama

"True Romance" (1993) was lot of people's unbeknownst introduction to Quentin Tarantino. The two characters are in over their heads. Waaaay over their heads.

The only thing in their favor... Each other.

The flick ends with a monologue from Alabama that will always strike a chord on the ol' heartstrings...

"Amid the chaos of that day, when all I could hear was the thunder of gunshots, and all I could smell was the violence in the air, I look back and am amazed that my thoughts were so clear and true, that three words went through my mind endlessly, repeating themselves like a broken record: 'You're so cool', 'You're so cool', 'You're so cool'. And sometimes Clarence asks me what I would have done if he had died, if that bullet had been two inches more to the left. To this, I always smile, as if I'm not going to satisfy him with a response. But I always do. I tell him of how I would want to die, but that the anguish and the want of death would fade like the stars at dawn, and that things would be much as they are now. Perhaps. Except maybe I wouldn't have named our son Elvis."

We all want to be thought of as "cool" by our partners...

Virgil/"Bud" and Lindsey Brigman 

In the "Abyss" (1989), it showed what "til death do you part." means...

There is a scene, where he basically has to let her die. And NOT JUST watch, but look into her eyes as... Fuck.,.. It has been 27 some odd years and it still causes me a shortness of breath... Then he saves her... (Spoiler alert!)

When it is his turn... and he is alone... in the dark... falling farther and farther... All he has, is her voice.

"I know how alone you feel... alone in all that cold blackness... but I'm there in the dark with you. Oh Bud... you're not alone... Oh, God. You remember that time - you were pretty drunk, you probably don't remember - but the power went out in that little apartment we had on Orange Street? We were staring at that one little candle, and I, I said something really dumb like, that candle was me, and like every one of us is out there alone in the dark in this life... and you just, you just lit up another candle and you put it beside mine and said 'No! See, that's me. That's me'... and we stared at the two candles, and then... well, if you remember any of this, I'm sure you remember the next part. But there *are* two candles in the dark. I'm with you. I'll always be with you Bud, I promise that."

The point of being a relationship is not just "not being alone". It is finding that person who bolsters you.., makes it so you feel invincible and able to face things by yourself... but there is the added benefit of just being with them.

Lloyd and Diane

I remember the high school I graduated, albeit barely, from had flyers hung up for the showing of "Say Anything" (again with the 1989).

It was so good at capturing the meaning of relationships for young adults, that even the board of education was of the impression that these idiot kids should see it.

Theirs would not be a romance without trials and tribulations... At the "reunion"... Diane exclaims, "Everything else means nothing to me. If I hurt you again, I'll die.".

Lloyd, who all young men should want to be more like, and not so blinded that he is without a pinch of concern, replies, "One question: are you here 'cause you need 'someone', or 'cause you need 'me'?... Forget it, I don't care."

Okay... his cynicism lasted five seconds... Love is helluva drug.

The movie ends with perhaps what we all hope for. A flavor of optimism that only comes from when you are coupled with someone who is wholly and fully on your side... and you are fully and wholly on their side. It is literally you and them versus the world - and the world would tremble if it knew what it was facing.

Diane Court: Nobody thinks it will work, do they?
Lloyd Dobler: No. You just described every great success story.

Wesley and Buttercup

I mean... c'mon... "The Princess Bride" (1987)...

The absolute surety... The zero faltering delivery of the line, "Hear this now: I will always come for you."

Buttercup, having been through some turmoil, questions, "But how you can be sure?"

Westley, THE MAN!, comes right back with, "This is true love - you think this happens every day?"

It is abundantly clear that while I enjoy the ren faires for a multitude of reasons, this flick has a lot to do with it as well... The air of chivalry... The fair maiden... The pirate... Oh, yeah...

And I swear to all that is holy and unholy... If you want to win the charms and affections of a lady or gent - About every fifth request from them... Throw down the line that, for close to three decades, has been code for three other little words...

"As you wish"

You're welcome.

Jim and Pam

As stated earlier, sitcoms are my wind down. I need to not think or care for a bit. I need something humorous to end my day.

I knew as soon as I started "The Office" (for the third or fourth time now), I was in for the emotional roller coaster that is Jim Halpert and Pam Beesley.

One episode they just look at each other for almost 30 seconds.. Not saying anything... but conveying a metric fuck ton of emotion. It should not work or have a place in a show, a comedy even, where they only have 22 minutes... But it is the moments like that make you give a damn about the characters. It "endears" you to them...

Jim loses a major sale... one that he states is 25% of his commission... But, since Pam fell asleep during a meeting and laid her head on his shoulder... He decrees it a "good day",

The best moment... The PERFECT moment... is at the very, very end of Season 3. The series had a pseudo-documentary feel to it. The scenes would either begin or be ended by an "interview", one on one with a character.

Pam is being interviewed, and she is asked a question... Jim steps in, interrupts, apologizes to the documentary film crew, and asks Pam if she is free for dinner.

Visibly taken aback, but quick with the "Yes" answer... She turns back to the camera, and in five seconds, with tears of unabashed happiness welling in her eyes, her face expresses a joy and a light that capture "love". Jenna Fischer knocked out of the fucking park in that scene...

I would make the suggestion that one regularly make the effort to see their partner "for the first time" now and again. Stop taking them for granted, and when they walk into a room, look at them as if you have not seen them for a month.

You're welcome... again.

Mom and Dad

Nothing beats the real thing, baby... or so the songs say.

Being inundated with the concept of love and romance, as interpreted by Hollywood, is neat and all. It gives you an ideal. It is engineered to make you have all the feels. That is their mission.

Being inundated with two people who love each other, every day is better. Through the grind. Through the routine. Through the monotony of life. THAT is the best gift I can never have. For the most part, I am okay with that fact... They have their thing... It works for them...

On certain aspects of their thing though, I am, as the title states, gloriously envious, of what my parents have. To me, it is the "freedom from uncertainty".

Dad KNEW... KNEW that everyday when he left for work... He kissed my Mom. In doing so, he said, "I am fairly positive I will see you again, but just in case, I want this to be my last act with you."

Ah... but why "fairly positive"??? Does that not counter your "freedom of uncertainty" statement???

No... And allow me to explain, ya doubtful galoot.

If something were to befall my Father at work, or on the way to or fro... He was certain that his wife, the woman he loves, had ZERO doubts as to his love for her... and THAT was his freedom from uncertainty.

Dad also KNEW that without FAIL... His wife, his love would be there to kiss him upon his return.

Pretty sure that would make any grind, any routine, easier to process. The job would be just a "thing to get through" in order to get home... and get that kiss.

After retiring, my Mom "Strongly Suggested" that Dad get a part time job... She mentioned missing kissing him when he got home... She essentially missed missing him...

Say it with me, "Awwwww"

_______________________________________

I know a lot of the examples listed are fairy tales. Some of them even made it to TV and cinema. It is easy to be envious of the kind of loves expressed and the actions, driven by said love, that our heroes an heroines undertake.

I guess I just want someone who would remember to get me some cereal for my Sunday mornings when I forget.

See you on Aisle 6,  

d

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White Glove to the Face!

This blog idea, or inspiration, came to me earlier this week Sometimes I sit down to write and basically have to pull something from my ass. Dad can usually weed those out and tells me "You wandered a bit on that one." Everyone's a critic.

We had some bad weather coming through, a line of storms on Tuesday night. The meteorologists were broadcasting doom and gloom.  They all but screamed, "HOLY SHIT!!! WE ARE ALL GONNA DIE!!! Now to sports..."

I got some lightning... A little rain... Not too much.

I have been thinking that there is zero challenge in my life right now... And while I would not mind something of a challenge, Mother Nature PMS'ing all over the crib is NOT on the list. NOTE: I am renting... and have renter's insurance... Again... none too challenging.

Why do we sometimes crave it a challenge? Simple, we want to know where we stand. What we can withstand. What is the threshold? What is too much?

I harken to Brad Pitt's Tyler Durden asking Edward Norton's the Narrator, in "Fight Club", "How much can you know about yourself, you've never been in a fight. I don't wanna die without any scars. So, come on and hit me before I lose my nerve."

In Tyler we trusted, but I got plenty of scars and been in my fair share of fights, thank you very much.

I won some, I lost some. I have gotten the shit kicked out of me. Thankfully, never literally, but as the father in "Friday" said, "You live to fight another day." You are tested in a fight in such a primitive and brutally, bloody, black and white manner... You win. You lose. End of list.

I guess that before supermarkets, Whole Paycheck Foods, and the like, as a man, you were tested in your hunter-gatherer role... So, no shortage of testosterone when you hunted, foraged, provided, and were compensated with female attention... and that was your SUNDAY!

Now that we are at the top of the food chain, the challenge of providing food for your family comes down to not punching that one co-worker who KNOWS it was your FUCKING YOGURT in the fridge... You Shaprie'd that shit with your name... Ugh...

If you were to punch that yogurt stealing sumbitch... you would get fired.. and therefore could not provide...

And before you say we are not at the top of the food chain... Bears, sharks, tigers, lions... Yeah... I know... If I see any of those things in my backyard, I stay the fuck inside... And wonder how in the name of all that is unholy did a shark end up on my patio?

Speaking of work... We all want a rewarding job... or at least that's what it says on the resume. We want to be challenged.  I am a programmer, and I like being presented with a challenging project.

I DO NOT like being presented with a request of "I need a report for <insert whatever their superior asked for>".

Mmmkay, Pum'kin... Do we capture that data anywhere? Have we ever captured that data? What data do you need to see on this "Just Pulled From Your Ass" Report? How would you like the data sorted?

We go back to the challenge of NOT punching Clueless McWasteMyTime in the word hole.

To me... The challenge comes in the form of, "What is the most elegant solution to the problem?" If other programmers were to come in after I won the lottery, would they have a moment of "Ahhhh, I like this bit of code here... Oooh... I see what you did with that... NOICE!"

Without a challenge in your workplace, you quickly reach stagnation. No movement. No catalyst for change. Makes for a long 9 to 5...

Life is the biggest challenge of all... and here's the punchline... You can't win! No one gets out of here alive!

When Rocky Balboa, in "Rocky Balboa", tells his kid...

Let me tell you something you already know. The world ain't all sunshine and rainbows. It's a very mean and nasty place, and I don't care how tough you are, it will beat you to your knees and keep you there permanently if you let it. You, me, or nobody is gonna hit as hard as life. But it ain't about how hard you hit. It's about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward. How much you can take and keep moving forward. That's how winning is done! Now if you know what you're worth then go out and get what you're worth. But ya gotta be willing to take the hits, and not pointing fingers saying you ain't where you wanna be because of him, or her, or anybody! Cowards do that and that AIN'T YOU! You're better than that! I'm always gonna love you no matter what. No matter what happens. You're my son and you're my blood. You're the best thing in my life. But until you start believing in yourself, ya ain't gonna have a life. Don't forget to visit your mother.

That last line, of course, slays me... But still... Life is not a challenge, life is THE challenge.

I can't say anything to top ol' Rock... so... Moving on...

In Love the challenges are myriad... I want my potential mate to be smart, of course, but I want her to challenge my opinions, my preconceived notions...

I am kind of a stubborn asshole on certain things... Namely, whatever I declare "Awesome-sauce".

I will debate vehemently that Metallica's "Master of Puppets" is the greatest metal album of all time... If I were to go on a date and ask "whatshername" what the greatest metal album of all time is, there are maybe five contenders that I would allow her to state her case for.

If she were to offer "Silver Side Up" by Nickelback... I would finish my drink... Stand up... Walk out...

Couple of things that I realized about that example... 1) I really am an opinionated asshole on certain things... 2) I am very pleased that I had to google "Nickelback discography" to snag an album title for the shittiest band ever (NOT OPINION, VERIFIABLE FACT!).

The last date I went on, was pleasant. There was absolutely nothing wrong with the other party. Over the second drink, I ran permutations and did the mental calculations... and knew exactly how it was going to turn out. It was not a fairy tale ending... So... It was a one off date. Because there was no challenge.

Ah, Dear Dougie, you complete nincompoop... You can never tell how things will turn out and you are making decisions for the other person and that isn't fair to them!

Um... which is worse, making decisions for them or wasting their time?

Also, when I say I want a challenge from my lover... I don't mean constantly testing me... Constantly confrontational... And I sure as shit don't want mean or bossy...

The biggest challenge in love, to me, is being able to GIVE yourself to another person completely... without LOSING yourself in the process. Close second - when to ask for a threesome... Kidding. (it's 6th!)

__________________________________

We like to be tested. Weighed and measured. We like to know the benchmarks... SO WE CAN IMPROVE!!!

Just yesterday, I saw this...  

The one thing I wish I could impart to people is... Fail. Fail gloriously and LEARN FROM IT! Let that queasy feeling of "Damn, I messed up" gestate and burst forth in the next attempt. You may not get it right this time either... but you did not mess up the same way and that shit is called "Progress".

Also, when you think of your challenges... How insurmountable they are... How you are besieged... Just remember, there are people out there dealing with shit you can not even fathom. You could always find someone that will beat you in a "Fuck-Up Life Off" ala Wade and Vanessa. ("Deadpool" out on blu-ray, May 10th!)

Maximum effort,

d

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Knock Knock

There has been a lot of hullabaloo in the press over some "laws" concerning the "T" part of the LGBT community.

The push for these laws is coming from the non-left part of the two party system. I say "Non-Left" because they sure as fuck aren't right.

North Carolina was the one you heard probably heard about the most. What that state did is declare open season on anything the small minded governing officials find "unusual"... Any and all protections from discrimination a person not fitting into what they declare "normal", are gone.

It is also known as the "Bathroom Bill" because it says that you have to use the bathroom of the gender you were assigned on your birth certificate.

And we all know anything to do with birth certificates gives the Non-Left wingers a raging hard on...

Mississippi has even more draconian measures denying rights and services (adoption, rental space, employment) to people based on their gender identity not matching what THEY think it SHOULD be.

Those words were capitalized on purpose... Not a "Caps Lock" issue...

Kansas... Oh, poor, fucked up Kansas... There was talk floating around of them offering a "bounty" to anyone reporting on a transgender person using the facilities not of their "assigned" gender.

Kansas governor, one "Epic Fail" Brownback, has run the economy of Kansas into the ground (and then promptly mounted the corpse in sexual congress). Somehow he wants to fund this "Genital Militia"...

These are just examples of the discrimination the people who happen to not agree with what was assigned on their birth certificate.

Facebook is awash with memes about these cowardly acts of the "we don't understand - so let's hate whatever it is" types...

On the whole bathroom front... it is comedy and tragic at the same time... In my house, I have two bathrooms. I have had people over and no one, not ONCE, has asked me, "Which is the ladies?" or "Where is the men's room?"

"Now, Doug..." you say... "We are talking about public restrooms! What do you think some male going into the ladies bathroom is up to?????"

"Probably relieving their bladder. I double checked with Google... and sure enough, both males AND females have a bladder. If the bladder becomes even half full, it can cause discomfort."

"But what if my daughter is in their with me???"

"Keep them out of the persons fucking stall and I am pretty sure everything will be hunky dory. Oh, if your kid is opening closed stall doors, or crawling under them to get a peek as to what is going on... You have a fucking piece of shit kid and you should try this new thing called 'FUCKING PARENTING'"

And what happens when a normal lady... who just happens to have very masculine features and mannerisms gets accused of being a male transgender person, and then is unlawfully detained. What is her recompense? Personally, I think she sue the fuck out of the state. She should sue the fuck out of her accuser for defamation of character. I can probably think of a hungry lawyer or two who salivating to argue such a case...

I make jokes, and then there is a "cartoon" like this...

This advocates violence. This makes it seem like it is your duty... nay... your GAWD GIVEN RIGHT to inspect and frisk every person going in or out of a restroom... And by golly, if one of them thar deviants are found... Well, you are meriting out Gawd's Justice!!!!!

Never mind the fact you get to look up skirts all night... hoping for a dick? Little latent homosexuality manifesting itself? This is done all in the name of "protection"... Give me a fucking break.

A.W. Erwin... on behalf of all rational people, I would kindly invite you to get the fuck off my planet. I hope you assault the WRONG transgender person and they lay you the fuck out. THEN... when you are unconscious on the bathroom floor ("ewww" factor all it's own), they take the time to put makeup on you and fix your hair to be FAB-YOU-LUSSSSSSS! (yes, I snapped my fingers at each syllable!)

WHY, OH WHY do the mouth breathers with double digit IQ's believe that NOW, in 2016, they have to beware of the dreaded "Man who believes he is a woman" in their bathroom. Even worse, in the ladies restroom with their wives/daughters/relatives with vaginas????

And, why, oh why, does the party of "small government" want to waste taxpayer money to find out what kind of junk Androgynous Pat is sporting?

Glad you asked!

The overriding factor has to be fear... The people who are afraid simply can not grasp that some people feel in their very soul that the gender they were born with, was simply incorrect.

So... The scaredy-cats apply their OWN insecurities and perversions onto the transgender populace.

"They want to go into the opposite bathroom to stare at the opposite sex's genitalia!!!"

No... That is what YOUR first inclination to do is. Meaning if you could go into the opposite gender's restroom, that is what YOUR mission would be... You are projecting.

For the record... The female restroom must be something out of "Caligula" or something... Seriously... Are you ladies all running around naked in there? Airing out the nether region under the hand dryer? Are their pillow fights while topless??? Is THIS why you guys go in packs to the ladies room???

Only reason all these transgender men want to go in there!!! Only POSSIBLE explanation!

After the fear factor... it comes down to the biggest stupid factor of all... God.

I think the people of influence in the churches have a hard on for the transgender people because they have the gall to say, "God was wrong."

The powers that be in the religious community have to shut that shit down reeeeeal quick... Because if the sheep people can accept that... well... maybe... God was incorrect on this one thing then ma.... NOOOOOOO!!! God is infallible. God is all knowing and never wrong. God has a plan!!!!

Otherwise they would just be silly fuckers up there collecting 10% of your cash, and wasting up to 12.5% of your weekend... doing absolutely nothing, for no fucking reason whatsoever.

You don't really hear about the "Religious Left"... These "leaders" influence the legislators. I guess the separation of church and state is about as thin as a bathroom stall door.

_________________________________

This week's blog was originally be about Quantum Mechanics... Schrodinger's Cat and all that...

And I guess it can apply here as well... "Is the person in the stall next to me a man or a woman?"

Until you open the stall, the answer to that question is "Yes." Equally to both presented options.

If you are in the stall next to me, all I care about is if you follow the courtesy flush rule... About it.

I don't care if you have a vagina and a beard. I am not worried about your situation. Chances are, if I am in such need of a stall in a public restroom, things are dire enough and I have my own shit to deal with (pun intended).

If I am at the sink in the men's restroom, and a person who is obviously a woman comes up to the sink next to mine, I am not going to accost them. I am not going to call them out.

I am just going to be thankful they washed their fucking hands.

Cleanliness is next to something something...

d

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The Goddamned Tubes

I would say that at least three times a week, I will have to pull a u-turn, go back to the casa and see if I have closed my garage door. The phrasing on the first part of the sentence is important... "AT LEAST".

I have gotten a mile away and turned around. The act of hitting the little button on my remote is such a programmed response, so automatic, I have trouble recalling if I had done so or not.

I know the door is down. I have YET to go back and it be open.

At night... in the course of feeding the damn dog, I will open the door to the garage to make sure the garage door is shut. Again, I KNOW I closed it when I got in... But why do I have to check? (And sometimes, less than a minute later, RE-check because I forgot?)

When I was discussing this phenomenon with family and friends, TO A PERSON, I got "You do that too? I thought it was just me!" or some variation thereof.

Yesterday, walking around my beloved Scarborough, was talking to my friend Miracle. Somehow, the song "She's A Beauty" came up. Neither of us could remember the artist (Read the title again. You're welcome!). It was the kind of aggravation that comes with the single thought of...

"DAMMIT, I KNOW THIS!"

I remember that our phone number at 511 Johnson Dr., Duncanville TX, from 1980 to 1986 was 296-0572.

I remember waking up from eye surgery and seeing that they had put a bandage over my stuffed animals eye to match my own. And then puking up the scrambled eggs I tried to eat. I was four.

I remember the first comic book I got, and could really understand, was The Uncanny X-Men,  #167.

I got it from my cousin Keith. It really started my reading of the comic books that continues to this day.

I remember hearing Led Zeppelin IV in it's entirety for the first time. December of 85.

I remember what song was playing when I lost my virginity (Thank you, Led Zeppelin! When the Levee Breaks INDEED!).

I remember the combination on my first locker at Augusta High School, in the Sophomore hall. 1-42-05.

I remember my great grandmother teaching me how to clap loud enough to scare away the neighbors marauding mutts.

I remember the night I first drove into town after getting my driver's license... I got a flat.

I remember my grandparents basement... It was basically a hole, with rocks along the walls with some Elmer's glue to hold them together. I remember the older cousins would be down there, discussing girls, or other "teenage" stuff and telling my five year old self, that "If you come down those stairs, the ants in the walls will swarm out and eat your skin off!"

I remember living at my grandparents when I was 18 and STILL being scared to go down to the basement.

Point being, I have a pretty good memory. I treasure it. I can recall somethings with such clarity, it shocks me. Other times, it will take a audio stimulant... A song comes on the radio and I'm there.

Of course, a certain smell can trigger them... I can not smell honeysuckle and not be taken back to walking to Central Elementary in Duncanville, up Goldman St., and the house at the corner of Freeman had their fence lined with the stuff...

These days, I think of not being to recall a song's artist, or if the damn garage door is closed, and I worry about my memory. Hell, I had to review the blogs I have written to make sure I had not covered this topic... Slipping, man.

Take that to the Nth degree... Alzheimer's...

Out of all the maladies that can befall a person, I can think of nothing more cruel than this wretched disease. A person can otherwise be of good health, and the one thing that makes them "Them" is slowly eroded away.

We are the culmination of these imprints, these memories. They make us who we are. To have that stolen? No greater affront. No greater tragedy.

About 1.5 years ago, I was passing through the lunch room, getting some water. I said hello to the co-workers present. They were watching the news at noon. I was hoping to catch the weather.

The story was about an Alzheimer's Survivors group. The people who had lost someone to the disease. From the footage being played, if the sound had been removed... You would have thought it was a "Mega Millions Jackpot" winners group... Smiles. Happiness. Joy.

These were people who cared for loved ones for years, and the loved ones had forgotten them... These were people who exemplified the "In sickness, and in health" AND the "Til death do us part" areas of the vows...

In the one on one interviews, you could feel the dichotomy of the individuals. Combating the feelings of joyous freedom, and the feelings of assumed selfishness.

They knew that they should not feel "Joy"... then in the same breath, make an outfuckingstanding argument as to why they EARNED that "Joy". To have cared for someone you love WHILE watching that person, the person they were, slip away... Heartbreaking... No... A broken heart mends... It was heart wrenching... where the heart is twisted like a wet dishtowel and wrung violently, the emotions expunged... forced out by gripping unseen, iron-like fists...

 Look to your loved one, could be a spouse, could be a parent... Think of the days you spent laughing. The days you spent crying. Think of that ONE day... The one that solidified your relationship with one another. That ONE day that is no one else's. It is the defining day of you and your loved ones essence.

Now... erase it.

Worse... Imagine the person you love not remembering it.

As this vile thing progresses... Imagine them not remembering you.

I tear up at the thought. I am more scared of this befalling me than I am of the flesh eating ants in my grandparent's basement walls.

______________________

Find your parents photo albums. Go through them. Burn those images into your minds. Do it over and over. Then CHERISH THOSE MEMORIES.

The next trick is to not spend too much time remembering the past, that you neglect to make MORE memories.

Then lament the fact that all we have now are tumblr accounts, Instagram and Facebook feeds.

We're doomed, but at least we won't be able to remember why...

It's a sin that somehow
Light is changing to shadow
And it's casting it's shroud
Over all we have known

- Pink Floyd 

On the turning away,

d

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In Retrospectacle

About two to three hours ago, I started a conversation with someone. It was off a dating site, and in their profile, they already proved themselves more brave than I am. For privacy reasons, that is about as much as I can divulge.

So... The conversation is taking it's normal route. Lots of questioning back and forth. Thankfully, she said that she liked the writing of my rather lengthy dating profile. Well... Just so happens that I have a whole metric fuck tonne of writing right HERE! I proceeded to give her the link. She may in fact be reading this very sentence... Hi.

Right after sending the text, I thought... Shit. I kind of bare my soul in this saga on a screen. Not all of these are deep, introspective writings, but you could learn quite a lot about me. Not all of it flattering...

Did that stop me from giving her my full name so she could perv my profile on Facebook? NO,  IT MOST CERTAINLY DID NOT!!!

"Can I please have a knee that bends in a manner so I can just kick myself in the testicles?"

After some grueling minutes passing, waiting for some indication, favorable or unfavorable, I get a "I like the hair!"

This lets me know she made it to Friday's postings... Again... One can learn a LOT about me on my Facebook profile. I have had my phone number up on it since 2010... Not one call... But still! I don't lock down any of my posts or pics. (I have to call and check on my Dad, because I know his security minded ass might have just sprained his eye muscles from rolling them so hard...)

I had to go move mass amounts of weight back and forth, and up and down, and I was thinking about a conversation that a friend and I had recently about... the Past. Ah... the topic presents itself!!!

She entered a relationship. In the spirit of honesty and forthrightness, she divulged some of her recent dalliances and recounts of her romantic life. Nothing terribly shocking... Nothing that has not gone on before and will continue to happen after we are all decomposed.

Well, this new beau, he took umbrage with some of the details of her past. He would not let them go. He would use these nuggets of information as weapons in which to inflict pain and abuse. More atrociously, he used them as bludgeons to deflect any and all valid arguments she would make.

I had a little issue with the past being a hindrance. I was seeing a lady, they know who they are (SUPER-SLY-EARLIER-BLOG REFERENCE, TOTALLY MADE LESS SUPER-SLY BY THIS ALL CAPS PARENTHETICAL ANNOUNCEMENT!), who had issue with me being friends, Facebook and otherwise, with a few of my exes and women I had seen naked. The fact she was in Memphis, and me six hundred miles away, is a gargantuan factor.

It really bugged her. To the point where I had to tell her... "Either you trust me or you don't." I didn't realize it at the time, but in this case it was not wholly matter of trust, or the past. It was one of access.

A friend, who I was in a relationship with for about eighteen months, needed some cash. I had some cash and I loaned it to her. I did not hesitate. I did charge a big ass bottle of Jack Daniels as interest. "Business Acumen", I believe it is called...

It really bothered her that I did it... I had to explain, more than once, that with this person, who had done me no wrong, to whom I had zero, ZERO, animosity, and had one of the most adult relationships, from start to finish, is my friend. Again, it was the matter of access... When I looked back, I knew what phrase made my lady's blood boil... "She just came over got the cash."

It was the "just came over" part... like my current lady friend wished she could do, and this woman, with whom I had a past, could do in 10 minutes.

After explaining my past to her, I did my best to let her know nicely, "I am not going to alienate my friends, or people I care about because you are jealous they are in my life. These people helped me become the person I am today."

The distance did that relationship in... And we are now good friends... About a year after we were done, and still friends and talking sporadically, I jokingly clued her into the fact... "You know... You are know one of the 'exes' you used to not like..."

I know the "Fuck off" was said with a smile... I hope it was said with a smile...

Yesterday, out at Scarborough RAINessance Festival, I was hanging with our merry little band of miscreants. Two lovely ladies were discussing how they were not a fan of when a new lover would make it seem like he was executing something from a playbook.

Paraphrasing, but something along the lines of, "If you play with my tits, fucking ask my how I would like my tits played with. Don't just play with them like you did with your last chick. What may have worked on her, may not work on me."

I smiled to myself and thought... This is a lot like "initiative" in the workplace... If you try something and it makes your boss happy... You showed initiative. If you try something, and the boss is not happy, "What the fuck ya doing?"

If new lover is playing with her tits and it is something that is making her quite happy, then, "Proceeeeed...." (subtext: "I know this is what he has done before, and if I ever meet the chick that taught him this, I will say 'Thank You'"), if not... "What the fuck ya doing?"

The actual lessons to be taken away is communication, of course... That, and don't let the past dictate your future... or breast handling technique.

___________________________________

I am no prognosticator. I can not see the future. The only person I would believe that can truly read the future would have to have the title "Multiple Powerball Mega Millions Jackpot Winner". So, I do not put too much effort into fortune telling. I make plans and try to stick to them, sure... but... The Universe has jokes.

The present is unfolding as it should... Try and stop it. Dare ya. I'll make the popcorn.

I have a past. You have a past. They have a past. Unless you are in Witness Protection, there is know escaping it...

While I do not hide or shy away from any of it, I am not proud of all of my past. I have done some fucked up, repugnant shit. I have made peace with close to 99% of my past. There are always those things you will carry, until you shuffle the mortal coil, that you will never fully come to terms with...

I tell any new person of interest, "You can ask me any question. I may ask if you reeeeeally want the answer, but I will answer honestly... and I can't make you like the answer."

If someone can't handle your past and you have made your peace with it, present them with the following choices... 1) HONESTLY accept it and move on, taking all the time they need to do so. "Accepting" meaning they do NOT get to hold it against or over you. EVER. 2) Swallow that jagged little pill, STFU, and they NEVER hold it against or over you. EVER. 3) Fuck off.

Sitting in my Nowhere Land,

d

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And The Shovel Is For...

Yesterday, as I was about to start cleaning house, I had the brilliant idea to wear my brandy new, NONE too cheap, moccasins. Figuring to get them a little more broken in for Scarby next weekend. I get the right one laced up... Looking super awesome. On to the left moc!

The third of ten glass button makes a noise... like crushing glass. And this button just... wobbles off it's post...

The visions of what I wanted to do the Earth. Flames seen from space. A rolling, devastating storm cloud, raining death and destruction, with me at the head... Commanding and bending the raw, primordial power of...

VENGEANCE!!! (If I could have made it blink, I would have)

I finished cleaning the house. Called the good people at Catskill Mountain Moccasins, and all will be fixed in the first 10 minutes of opening day. I calmed down, and it took about five minutes to remedy the situation. Even I was a little appalled at the level of my reaction.

As the wise Ron Burgandy once said, "That escalated quickly!"

That was not the only inspiration for this week's verbal spewage...

I spoke with a beloved friend this week. She had been wronged. Shit, to be honest, she had been verbally abused by a person she was in a relationship with. I may be many things, but there are lines I will never cross. Hurting someone I supposedly love? It sickens me. As I told someone a while back, "I may be a bastard, but I am not a fucking bastard." (Not in the classical sense of the word... Love ya, Dad!)

As I recall, and am replaying in my movie-hole I call a brain, what this guy said and did, I feel hurt. I feel for this person (Never mind that she is my friend. Never mind that she is one of the few people on the planet I actually love. Just the fact she is a human being - hurting), recounting the recent events with tears in her eyes... Hell, I write this, I am tearing up... Hurt is the primary emotion...

However. Comma. There is a seething cauldron of rage bubbling underneath.

She came to me with her story because she had written a letter to this vile, piece of shit's new girlfriend explaining in detail what a vile, piece of shit this guy is. It was succinct and well thought out and executed (She is meticulous and hella organized! You do NOT want to piss her off.).

She was asking me if she should mail it.

There it is. The dilemma. Should one seek vengeance for the wrongs done unto them?

Not Just The Name of Roy's Horse!

What does it take for you to want to make someone feel YOUR pain?

In the case above, the reason she wanted to inflict suffering was abundantly clear. THE FUCKER WAS "GETTING AWAY WITH IT". Almost a direct quote.

Now, some people can read that story and it not have any effect, or elicit any reaction. These same people could see a scratch on their car and want the streets to run red with the blood of everyone in a twenty block radius because the bag of dicks that scratched their ride might still be in the circle of pain!

Last night I was helping a lady friend set up her blog, and discussing writing, so I brought up this topic. This lady is uber hippie lady. Loves hugs. Loves animals with a passion. Loves love. I have never heard her to speak an unkind word about anyone. The worse utterance being, "I would not like that person around me."

That is the equivalent to my "Fuck that fucking fuck. Hope they die screaming."

I asked her what would set her off? She said "Nothing" in an instant, clinging to her pacifist ways and teachings.

"Someone fucks with your kid", I countered.

"Ohh, they done fucked up then.", she said and I felt the sudden drop in temperature... I think even she was surprised by how quickly her mind went to vengeance.

Ta-da! Trigger discovered!

I told a therapist once, how I envision my own mechanism. I do my best to allow the momentary, brief flash of retribution on a plague-like scale to surface... and then lock that shit down. A lock is a series of little tumblers that have to be manipulated at the right angle and sequence to unlock.

IF someone were to pick my particular lock... It will make national news and... well, they United States Correction System might not let me blog from death row.

On Ice!

If you tell me you have not heard the old Klingon Proverb, "Revenge is a dish best served cold." I will call you a fibber and tell you to watch "Kill Bill Vol. 1 & 2" immediately.

I have been mentally dissecting that phrase for the past few days. I think I never really gave it much thought really. Someone been wronged, it is the go-to of vengeance quotes... Don't really think about it. Just say that shit. Sound smart!

When you are hurt, when you are angry, when you are BLINDED by those two powerful emotions, the first thing to go out the window? REASON.

The "served cold" part is the beautifully evil part of the quote. Let the hate and hurt simmer down... A boiling pot of water in not a real danger. Why? Because you see water doing that gurgle, rolling bubble shit... "Hey, that water is hot!"

You see a nice container of water... not exhibiting any of the behaviors associated with a boil... Stick your hand in... Come on... All is calm and serene... C'mon... I got you, Pum'kin... BURN!

No... IF you do seek vengeance... Let the storm pass... In the calm that follows... Wait for your opportunity... Like a Swedish Steppenwolf cover band naming themselves "Bjorn To Be Wild"... That kinda opportunity.

Regain the higher brain function and set forth your plan to completely decimate the object of your wrath.

A dish best served cold...

____________________________

I ended up telling my friend that I would NOT mail the letter. It was difficult for me to get that jagged, little pill out myself. I would not condemn her if she did end up mailing it. 

My reasoning is that, at the moment of our conversation, she was out. She was free and clear of that dysfunctional universe. To mail the letter would be opening the door and walking back into it.

She would not be present to see the expression and reaction of her letter being read... There only satisfaction would be that she had done her due diligence to try and help another human being from being hurt the same way she had been...

Yeah yeah... that is nice and all... but it would really fuck with that world class bag of dicks too.

In this case, however, dealing with this sociopath... It would not cause one flag in his step... Which is what really drove my opinion to not send the letter.

"Before you embark on a journey of  revenge, dig two graves." (TITLE!)

Confucius said that... And what it means, in that day and age, your reaction, would cause an reaction. Which would prompt your escalated reaction, and then an escalated reaction on theirs...

Even if you vanquish your foe, how much of yourself was sacrificed in the process?

I miss the parts of me I have buried along the way and I am tired of digging graves. That being said, there are seven graves I still have to fill, and I check each dish's temperature daily.

I hate it when my friends hurt,

d

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