What Is It With Sneakers?

The re-release of the Air Jordan sneakers and the chaos across the country last week on people stampeding to buy them is baffling to me. Of course spending $180 on a pair of sneakers is equally baffling to me as well. Sorry, I just don't get it.

But these incidents of fighting, stabbings, gunfire, and arrests over a pair of shoes did remind me of something I've always wondered about. Working in a mall setting can be interesting at times, especially a mall with a lot of shoe stores. The store I work in is sandwiched between two shoe stores and a shoe store across from us so I see a lot of shoe shoppers.

The one thing that baffles me is young African-American males and their shoe fetish, so to speak. They buy a lot of sneakers. It's not uncommon to see them leaving a store with several pairs of sneakers at a time. Many of them will sit on a bench in front of our store after purchasing new sneakers, remove what appears to be new sneakers from their feet, then proceed to debate which pair of new shoes they just purchased are worthy of wearing out of the mall. It's equally baffling and comical to me to watch this process. They seem to take this process very seriously though.

I assume sneakers are some type of status symbol. One I don't understand, especially since the shoes they came into the mall wearing look fine to me and not in need of replacement.

I dunno.

Maybe young white guys have a fetish of some sort I just haven't noticed. It doesn't appear to be sneakers though. Perhaps it's video games?

Or....

Maybe I'm just getting old and it's just something I'm not ever going to understand. Just seems like such a waste of money to me.

Sometimes Stupid People Are Incredibly Close To Home

I had a post in mind for today about a stupid person. I thought about it off and on yesterday and had myself convinced to do it.

Even the best of plans change though. Oh, I'm going to write about a stupid person today, just not about the one I was thinking about yesterday. This one is all about me.

I'm a smoker. A smoker who lives in a smoke free building, which is alright with me. The building wasn't always a smoke free building but since the rebuild from the tornado of last spring it became one. Since I had to virtually replace all of my furnishings lost in the tornado I was all for a smoke free building. I figured since I had all new furniture there was no sense smoking inside and having the furniture smell like an ashtray.

I'm also an early riser in the morning for the most part. Sleeping until 5 am would be considered sleeping in for me and I'm often awake at around 4 am, or earlier, such as the case today. I crack open a Diet Coke for a little caffeine and then decide to slip out the patio door for a cigarette.

So far no problem.

45 minutes later I decide another cigarette would be a great idea. When I slipped out the patio doors earlier it was a bit chilly out, with a breeze blowing directly at me, and drizzling. I decided I should go outside one of the apartment building main entrances for this cigarette to stay out of the breeze and rain. A logical decision I thought on my part.

So that's what I did. I grabbed my lighter and a cigarette and headed out. As the door to the building clicked, and I mean audibly clicked, shut behind me panic set in. I was standing outside with nothing more than a cigarette and a lighter and no means to get back into the building at a little after 4:30 am. As I stood there smoking I contemplated my situation. I wasn't happy.

This building has a total of 24 apartments with only 6 of them occupied as of now. It's been slow filling up as it reopened apparently. I knew one person well though and her apartment was on the first floor and close to this exit. So I spent the next 45 minutes or so wandering around the building hoping to see a light on in one of the apartments that was occupied. Finally I saw a light, and in the apartment of a lady I've known for 7 years.

I went to her patio doors and knocked quietly and she heard the knock.

I was saved!!

And then not so much. I could see through the blinds that she was moving about her apartment, but not toward the patio doors.

Have I mentioned yet that the drizzle had turned into a steady rain as well? Yeah, my luck pretty much sucked this morning. But, it was going to get worse.

After knocking on her patio doors a few times and getting no result I commenced wandering around the building looking for another light on and another savior. No luck there.

A car then pulls into the parking lot on the other side of the building and I sprint around to that side thinking someone is finally home and I'm going to get into the building. It was the police, responding to a call from the lady I know, to an intruder at the building.

I've got to correct that sprint thing used in the previous paragraph. At my age a fast walk is considered a sprint. It's hell to get old.

I walk up to the police car and the first thing he asks for is some identification. Showing him my lighter didn't impress him much. I'm soaking wet, chilled, and a bad case of bed head matted down. To say the cop was skeptical of my claims of actually living in the building would be highly accurate.

The lady I know finally pops her head out her patio doors when she saw the police had arrived. The very first thing she uttered was a question to me. "Did you get woke up by someone trying to break into the building too?"

Um... no, actually. That person was me. I locked myself out of the building and saw you had a light on so I was just hoping to get back inside.

At least she had the decency to verify that I actually lived here and the cop lightened up considerably and I got back into the building. So today's stupid person is actually me. But I'm happily stupid, warmed back up, and in dry clothes so the day is starting to look up.

This Place Is A Mess

Well.......

There's a lot of dust in here and I think I hear crickets chirping.

I dunno, maybe I left the door open or one of you did because this place is a mess.

But I'm back, somewhat.

(Yeah, that "somewhat" even makes me nervous.)

But I am back, just not sure of the frequency of posting as of yet.

I wish I could regale you with tales of the rock star life style I've been living the last couple of months but alas, I have no style, nor rock in my life. (Unless you count a rocking chair.)

No, nothing earth shattering happening here. Just lots of work, which of course can provide some blog fodder. I do have one story about an incident which happened last month where I thought I was in trouble but apparently I can't even manage to get myself in trouble properly at work any more. I'll share that soon.

As some of you know we lost the "Worthless Co-Worker at the end of October, of last year. We're still short handed. It's been a comedy of errors trying to get someone hired. We had a guy hired and he lasted 3 1/2 weeks of February. His girlfriend decided to dump him, so he decided he needed new scenery. As in moving to the other side of the state scenery.

We then hired a guy at the end of March, who lasted all of three days.

The boss and his wife had a baby in early April and he took two weeks of family leave which left me as the only person working for that period of time. He's also planning on taking a week of later this month because they have a timeshare deal which expires this year, so if it isn't used they lose out on some money, or something like that. I think the boss has tried to explain it in more detail but I haven't been too receptive in all honesty. I've just been kind of "meh" in regard to it.

I was actually off today. What did I do? I slept in, until just after 10:00 am. I then debated between  going hungry or grocery shopping. Grocery shopping won out. I then debated between running around naked at work tomorrow or doing a mountain of laundry. Laundry won out, as no one, including me, wants to see me sans clothes. I then took a two hour nap, and now I'm blogging. Just call me Mr. Excitement, huh?

Anyway.....

I'm back and I've got to get around to seeing what you guys/gals have been up to. I've missed you. Hopefully you all had a good Easter and here's wishing all you Mom's a great Mother's Day!

Random Observations

1) Rumor had it the Oscar's were awarded last night. I've never watched an Oscar program in the 51 years I've been on this planet. I've just never been able to drum up any interest in this yearly event for some reason. No hate here or dissing, just no interest.

2) Fox Faux News is looking to do an exclusive report on the incivility of the people in Wisconsin protesting the controversial bill to essentially bust unions in Madison the last couple of weeks. It's gotten so out of hand that there hasn't been one arrest. But they have to pander to their uninformed and biased viewers I guess.

3) Has Charlie Sheen made Mel Gibson look like a nice guy after his incoherent ranting of the past week? Now he states that the only way he'll return to the show is if he gets a raise from 1.8 million dollars per episode to 3 million dollars. He figures its it owed to him due to what the show has put him through lately. Delusional antics at its best.

4) Back to the mess in Madison. Gov. Walker wants you to believe that taxpayers are on the hook for state employee pension plans. A blatant lie as the employees contribute 100% to this fund from their own wages. The media hasn't covered this aspect so it's no wonder some people are up in arms over this issue. Quite frankly, the unions have agreed to all wage and benefit cuts proposed by the Governor. What they don't want to lose is collective bargaining rights. Walker refuses to compromise as his ultimate goal is to bust unions to please big business interests and corporations. The pension facts are covered nicely here. And here.

5) Bernie Madoff refers to the U.S. government as a Ponzi scheme. Laughable on one hand. But then when you consider that Madoff is the master of Ponzi schemes perhaps he knows what he's talking about.

6) Taylor Swift seems like a sweet girl and genuinely a nice person. I can't honestly see the singing talent myself but then that may just be me. The one thing I've noticed over the past year, or so, is the number of guys she's been linked with. I'm thinking she's a little too dependent and needy in this area myself. Maybe someone needs to tell her there's nothing wrong with taking a break and being single isn't necessarily a bad thing. But then again thinking that I'm exceedingly happy as a single person doesn't necessarily equate to other people being happy single, even if only temporarily.

7) Gas prices have risen approximately 10% in the last two weeks. Economists have predominantly blamed this on the mess in Libya. I'm having a little trouble with the math on this one. Libya produces 1.8% of the world oil supply and Saudia Arabia has raised their output by 8% to pick up this 1.8% slack. Why the 10% increase in prices at the pump?

8) Did anyone else have a Hershey's candy bar for breakfast today? Didn't think so.

Just Random Ridiculous Crap

1) The lure of plastic, as in a credit card, seems to know no bounds to some people. First Premier Bank offers a credit card to people with less than stellar credit. It's a credit card with a typical credit limit set at $300.00 and an interest rate of 79.9%. There's also fees of $135.00 per year to own the card as well. The fees include $45.00 to open the account, an annual fee of $30.00 the first year, and a monthly fee of $6.25 for the pleasure of having this card. (The annual fee goes up the second year.)

Oddly enough (to me at least) this card has proven very popular to people. The CEO of First Premier Bank said while the card was popular the majority of people who had one ran it up to the credit limit, then defaulted on it. (Big surprise there, huh?)  A person can have several opinions or thoughts about this I guess. Two come to mind here. One being, how desperate do you have to be to want a credit card with an interest rate of 79.9%? The other thought is that a large default rate isn't surprising to me. I would think most people who would accept a card with this interest rate and fees probably have little to no intention of paying their bill. I can't feel sorry for the bank though. I'm sure the minority who do actually pay on time still allow this bank to swing a profit.

2) In regard to my last post -- the silly little mall marketing girl was terminated. (Almost forgot about that.)

3)  The last few days of work have been strange. I've had random high school and college aged girls who work in the mall randomly greet me when they see me at work. Some of the girls I know, some I don't. The weird part of the greeting is the word "Dad" they've thrown into their "hi's" and "hello's." All I get is a big smile and no explanation from them when I ask them why the "Dad" is thrown in there.

I ate lunch with Jackie today and when I told her about this she about died with laughter, then refused to tell me what the hell was going on until we were about done eating. A few years ago the girls who worked in the mall decided to take a poll about who was the creepiest guy who worked in the mall. Over the years this poll has taken on quite a new life and now they vote using several categories describing guys in the mall. Some flattering, some not so much as far as the categories goes.

I won the home away from home "Dad" award for some reason. My boss won the "Flirt" award. The "Creep" award was won by the guy who I've always referred to as "ex-convict" who works for the Gold Buyer's kiosk. He's a combination thug, wannabe gang banger I've marveled at keeping his job. Some of the other categories were "Old Pervert", "Hot Guy", "Geek", etc....

When I asked Jackie how she voted she said she didn't get to vote. Apparently this is confined to the younger generation. She just happened to have a couple of college girls working for her this year in her store and knew about the results because of this. She did say had she been able to vote the proper category for me was not listed that she'd use. Apparently "Pain In The Ass" wasn't a category. Given our history, I can't argue with that one I guess.

Silly girls anyway..... and there better not be any child support involved in this or I'm going to ask for a recount or new election. Of course with my luck, if I were to complain I'd probably get recast as the "Old Pervert." Maybe I'll just grin and bear it for now.

The Most Interesting Man In The World Indeed

I'm sure all of you a lot of you a few of you have seen the commercial touting "The Most Interesting Man In The World", at one time or another. He's schilling for some type of beverage I'm pretty sure. Wine or beer is my guess because the actual marketing message is lost to me.

Don't get me wrong, the commercials are somehow compelling to me. But not so far as the product the company is trying to promote. (For all I know the shit he's trying to get you to buy is liquid Ex-Lax.)

You have this old bearded dude generally sitting in a bar booth flanked by two hot young chicks hanging on his every word. That's what fascinates me quite frankly.

I think I could do that, sans the grey beard, and if I wanted to spend the money to get two hot young chicks plastered enough to hang all over me and listen to me spout a couple of pithy comments, thought up by a marketing team.

I think I could pull off being mysterious, interesting, and pithy under those circumstances.

(And, oh yeah, those chicks would have to be really effin drunk too.)

Until I thought about it a little more anyway. Now I'm just a little depressed quite frankly. I possess no mystique, at least locally. I've become embarrassingly mundane and predictable.

I pop into Kwik Trip every day on my way to work to feed my nicotine habit. Until I saw these "Most Interesting Man In The World" commercials I was impressed that I could saunter up to the counter and all I heard was "that'll be $7.28 JPT." They already knew what I wanted, the right brand, and (now) annoyingly, they had the correct change ready for me. (Apparently I always hand over a ten dollar bill.) They had this sale rung up before I could open my mouth. Nothing mystique about this at all.

My kids can approach me with any problem they have in the world. And I'm there for them, ready to do battle, sort out the problem, and steer them in the right direction. But that isn't what they really want. They just want to share the problem. When I open my mouth to offer up my worldly wisdom I get shut down with "We already know what you're going to say dad." Again, my mystique has been lost and beaten into submission.

My boss doesn't even bother to tell me about new policies or work place rules any more. Apparently he knows exactly whether they're rules I'm going to follow, or ignore, ahead of time. He doesn't want to waste his time any more, or possibly mine. The possibility also exists he doesn't want the aggravation of wasting his breath. Whatever the reason, I'm once again far too predictable.

I can't even get the grocery store cashier to ask me "paper or plastic" any more upon checking out. I know they used to though. Now they just throw my shit in plastic bags and take my money. I'm a little conflicted on this one though. When they used to ask I'd get that "deer in the headlights look" and mumble and stammer, and finally ask "Uh, what's the correct answer here?" That may have become a tad tiring to them, but again no mystique involved.

So a few changes are in order here. The mystique which has apparently fled my persona has to be recaptured.

Deciding where to start is a bit perplexing. Do I go all in or just phase in some changes?

I'm inclined to start with the grocery store, mostly because I'm going to have to buy some groceries some time today, or go hungry.

So when "Skippy" the l'il bagger boy starts to throw my crap into plastic bags I'm going to have to bring that to a halt. But going to paper isn't exactly exciting, or mysterious. That just won't do. That guy is going to have to find some burlap bags to make me happy.

Baby steps people, baby steps.

We're Like "When Harry Met Sally"?

Unless you've read the last post this post probably won't make much sense to you.

(Go ahead and read it now, I'll wait for you. There's shit I can do while I'm waiting anyway. I need caffeine, a cigarette, and possibly a piss break as well.

It's a proven fact that a caffeinated and well nicotined "Just Plain Tired" is a much more pleasant person to hang with than one who isn't.

Hanging out with one who hasn't pissed his pants is probably preferred too.)

Anyway.

There's this little dinner fiasco on Sunday night. A dinner fiasco that I wasn't planning on attending until Jackie opened her big mouth. It's hard to be pissed at her because quite frankly her big mouth is one of the things I like about her. I just didn't want to go because I'm not as socially inclined as the hosts of said dinner. Mostly the wife of said dinner fiasco. She's too nice to dislike, but she's exasperating.

So we're going.

But there's weirdness involved. (Yeah, yeah, I know, if I'm involved there's always weirdness involved. Just shut up and keep reading.)

I think I've shown here that my thought process isn't always on target. I have a tendency to over analyze some pretty weird circumstances I've run into and my mind just races from one tangent to the next trying to figure shit out.

The latest thought process involves the perceived threat to my happy singleness. I'm a very much single guy content with life just as it is. It's an uncomplicated and simplistic life that I've fully embraced. It's also one which Jackie has also, or so I thought previously.

There's now an uncomfortable feeling that things are spinning out of control.

Jackie and I are perfect for one another. By that I mean as handy dating material when the need arises. We've known each other for over 5 years now and have bailed each other out countless times when a socially acceptable partner is needed.

We're often referred to as "Harry" and "Sally" by friends and co-workers. Those words have never been uttered by either one of us though. (Until yesterday.) We get to hear how "perfect" we are together, blah, blah, blah... by others, and we just skate around this.

When Jackie decided to prank the boss' wife on Thursday it was funny. It's the type of "funny" that I usually can get on board with.

(And I am on board, even though I'm walking the plank, blindfolded, and about to be shoved into the ocean.)

A phone call yesterday has my mind totally running out of control. It caused me a lest than restful night of sleep, and that's hard to do. All because I'm over analyzing it naturally, or maybe not. I dunno, maybe you people can figure this one out for me. After all, I'm not rocket scientist material.

Jackie: Hey Harry, Sally here.
Me: What?
Jackie: It's a joke, stupid.
Me: Okay, what's up?

Jackie: You have to work Sunday, right?

Me: Yup.

Jackie: Are you taking a change of clothes to work, or going to wear what you wear to work to this dinner party?

Me: I dunno.

Jackie: You need to figure this out, like right now.

Me: Oh, well, I'll probably just go wearing what I'm wearing to work then.

Jackie: How about you not doing that? 

Me: I'm not going to have time to run home and change comes to mind to tell you the truth. You're meeting me at work to head over there, remember?

Jackie: Pack some shit to wear. You can change at work. Their little get-together's are never formal. You in dress pants and me in jeans don't really match up well. I'm not feeling the dressing up thing so we can both look out of place.

Me: That seems like a lot of work to me, they don't care what we look like.

Jackie: Uh, no. You don't care what YOU look like. There's a difference.

Me: If it'll make you happy I'll take a change of clothes.

Jackie: You won't remember. I know you. You're going to blow this off, and tell me you conveniently forgot.

Me: Probably.

Jackie: That's not happening this time. I'll just bring some for you to change into.

Me: Uh, exactly how does that work?

Jackie: Remember that trip you took a couple of years ago to a meeting in Iowa?

Me: Yeah.

Jackie: I've still got a key to your place.

Me: You gave it back, and my plant died by the way. I don't think you watered the damn thing to tell you the truth.
Jackie: Yes I did and no I didn't return the key.

Me: Well shit, you need to do that then.

Jackie: Just shut up. You've got a key to my place anyway.

Me: No I don't.

Jackie: Well not to the place I just bought, but to my old place.

Me: Seriously, I don't have a key to your place, new or old.

Jackie: Yes, you do. I left it on your kitchen counter, with a note telling you I wanted someone I trusted to have a spare key. That's why you never got your key back. I've got your back on this one.

Me: Huh. When did you do this?

Jackie: When I was safe guarding your worldly possessions when you went to Iowa.

Me: Huh.

Jackie: You lost my key?

Me: Um, not technically. I don't remember any of this.
Jackie: You lost my key?

Me: Wait. Hey there's a key on top of the microwave here. I guess it's yours. I don't remember a note though. It isn't mine though, so it has to be yours. I guess I've kind of wondered about it.

Jackie: You've kind of wondered about it?

Me: Well yeah. Keys open shit up so I never tossed it. I thought maybe it was important.

Jackie: You're trying to throw me off track here. I know you remember this. I will be bringing you a change of clothes. You're lucky I have patience with you. You can't function without me honestly.

Me: What does that mean?

Jackie: Just that, I have patience with you.

Me: I function just fine.

Jackie: Yeah, as a totally unaware and clueless male you do. I provide a much needed balance to your life.

Me: Well, yeah, as my best friend that's entirely possible.

Jackie: See, I'm important to you.

Me: I guess so.

Jackie: You guessed right, and I have patience.

Me: Okay then.

Jackie: You are so laughable. You avoid some things like the plague. I'll see you Sunday, with a change of clothes mister.

Me: Okay.

Jackie: Bye.

Me: Uh, bye.

I know she stated I'm both unaware and clueless, but I'm not that clueless, or am I? I mean she's goofy as hell and I love that about her. She speaks whatever comes to her mind without holding back. So it's possible she simply does have the patience to put up with me as only any true best friend would. Or her patience is of a more sinister type. The type of patience that threatens the status quo of friendship.

Fuck, I don't do this type of crap well. Why are women so damn complicated?

I Just Can't Win, Can I?

I get along quite well with my boss. He's not the ideal boss by any means, but he allows me to do my job with little to no interference, and I accept his inadequacies in the supervision department. We had a few rough patches when he first transferred here from another store. He knew that I had turned down the position prior to him coming here and he had some false impressions of me from the start.

He's 12 years younger than I am, and his knowledge of me was all heard second hand from others before arriving here. He had never supervised anyone older than him and it was a problem for him for some reason. I, on other other hand, had plenty of supervisory experience in the steel industry working with a crew of 40 to 50 people of all ages.

His two biggest misconceptions of me involved his position and my independent streak.

He knew I was qualified to fill the position he was coming into and he couldn't understand why I didn't want the position myself. He harbored some weird thought that I was there to undermine him basically. It took months for him to figure out I didn't want his job.

The other issue/misconception he had was that I was hard to supervise. His new boss, who I had known 5 years previously under my boss who was retiring, had told him he should simply leave me alone. He didn't take that the way it was intended though. Instead of hearing I was proficient at my job, he interpreted it as I was a pain in the ass.

When he arrived here he went out of his way to assert he was the boss. It was a mild irritant at times, but for the most part, amusing to me. It's really hard to get me wound up over petty crap. I knew that over time he'd eventually see that he should leave me alone. He did finally, but it was interesting the first few months he was here.

Now that I've worked for him almost four years things are peachy and keen. He's a pretty decent guy.

But.....

(There's always a "but", it's an unspoken and unwritten rule somewhere that a "but" is always involved.)

He has a wife, who pops into the store quite often. The fact that she pops in often isn't the problem though. She's very nice as well.

Too nice, actually.

She fancies herself as a matchmaker. I've been single for a long time. This fact bothers her for some reason. She's got this bubbly personality and, well, I'm not a bubbly type of person, but I'm a relatively happy person, content with my life as it is. So while she's very nice, and well meaning, she's a pain in the ass to me.

(To my boss' credit he knows me pretty well and always tries to divert her away from me as much as possible when her matchmaking persona invades the store. She's hard to thwart though and he ends up apologizing profusely when she leaves the store.)

Both of them are little social butterflies though. They like to throw dinner parties, barbecues, holiday type parties, etc. Invariably they want me to attend many of these. Which is fine because I consider the boss a friend as well. When our schedules permit we've golfed together, he's gone out on the river fishing with me, although I think he just likes getting out on the boat, rather than the actual fishing part.

But these "social events" drive me crazy. It's a no win proposition for me. If I show up without a date, she always has someone there that's "just perfect" for me. Ah, not so much.

If I show up with a date it's a nightmare for the person I cajoled into going with me. They get cornered by her with her grilling them about how long we've been together, how happy we are, how serous is the relationship, blah, blah, blah. She can't accept it's simply a date, with no other strings attached other than a night out. I have a friend we'll call Jackie (primarily because it's her name) who fills in admirably as a date, and I for her when she has the need of one as well. We're simply good friends.

The problem here is that the boss' wife really likes Jackie. Unfortunately that feeling isn't reciprocal though. I haven't asked Jackie in over a year to attend one of these "social events" because of the torture she goes through when she's accompanied me in the past.

Yesterday I was off, and Jackie saw a need to have me around for the day. She had just bought a house and needed to look at appliances, she wanted a snow blower, and some other things she felt a guy's input would be useful on. So we were running around town with me giving her expert advice, as only a guy can pretend to possess, on things a woman wants to hear about, but doesn't normally don't want to think about.

One of our stops was at Best Buy and who do we run into? You guessed it. The dreaded wife of the boss. Had we seen her first we'd have slunk away, but she ambushed snuck up on us. This isn't going to be good I told myself. I think the reason Jackie and I get along so well is we possess the same wacky humor and she's every bit as blunt as I am. She's incredibly quick and sharp tongued around people who are irritating. We'd definitely be considered compatible in that regard.

So a conversation took place that Jackie thoroughly enjoyed, the boss' wife completely bought into, and left me brain damaged, caught off guard, and stammering throughout the ordeal.

Boss' wife: Hey guys!
Us: (almost in unison) Uh, hi.
Boss' wife: (to Jackie) I haven't seen you in a long time. Did (Just Plain Tired) tell you about the dinner we're having Sunday night?
Jackie: No he didn't.
Boss' wife: (to me) Why didn't you tell her about this?
Jackie: Yeah, why didn't you tell me about this?
Me: It must have slipped my mind.
Boss' wife: So you're both coming right?
Me: Um, uh....
Jackie: We certainly are! We'll be all primed for it. You know honey (to me) we'll get an extra hour of sleep and we'll both feel great that night.
Boss' wife: Are you two together finally?
Me: Uh, no, not exactly, we're.....
Jackie: Oh hush up. (to me) It's not a secret any more. We might as well just come out and let the world know.

(At this point I became a zoned out, brain dead, drooling spectator to this verbal massacre.)

Boss' wife: I just knew it! You two are perfect for each other. He never tells me or (the boss) anything.
Jackie: I'm trying to get him to open up more myself. He's such a private person, you know.
Boss' wife: I know! So how long have you two been serious?
Jackie: I've been fucking his brains out every single day for over six months now.
Boss' wife: Oh my gawd! I am so happy for you two. Now I know why he never wants to meet anyone I try to introduce him to. Why didn't you just tell me you two are together? (to me)
Me: I.....
Jackie: Oh hell, you know how he is. He's still a bit hung up on our age difference you know.
Boss' wife: That's a stupid thing. (to me)  You're not that much older than her. You guys make a great couple.
Jackie: I tell him that all the time.
Boss' wife: Does (the boss) know?
Jackie: I doubt it. Wouldn't he tell you if he did?
Boss' wife: He would. (to me) You haven't told (the boss) about this?
Me: Um, no, I guess not. It's still all pretty new to me I guess.
Boss' wife: I can't wait to tell him!
Jackie: So what time is dinner on Sunday?
Boss' wife: We're planning on eating about 7:00 pm, but you two should come earlier so we can visit some more. I've got to run and pick up (her son). I'm running so late today.
Jackie: That's great! We'll see you then.

And off she scampers.

Jackie: Now that was funny!
Me: Jackie..... no.....
Jackie: Just shut up. I did you a tremendous favor here.
Me: No, you....
Jackie: You've been single so long you have no clue how a woman thinks. She's so happy with the thought that you're getting laid... plus.... now you're off the market in her eyes. She's not going to be trying to hook you up with any of her unattached friends.
Me: This.... well.... shit....
Jackie: Trust me on this.
Me: Yeah, but....
Jackie: Just. Shut. Up. This will be fun for awhile. Jesus, get with it! We can pull this off with her for a long time.
Me: Well, you're now on the hook for dinner though.
Jackie: So that means you owe me now.
Me: I. Owe. You?
Jackie: You really have no idea how a woman thinks.
Me: Tell me about it.

So I've had some time to digest all of this. Dismay, quite frankly came first to mind. Utter dismay actually. But I've warmed up to this since the initial shock has worn off, because we can pull this off, and for quite some time. I've processed all the future reactions and have come to this conclusion. The boss' wife is very naive, and very nice. When this little charade unravels she'll be slightly embarrassed, but not actually mad. The boss will be cool about it as well. And for me, no more little miss matchmaker to contend with for the foreseeable future.

Yeah, I'm delusional, aren't I?

When In A Zone Doesn't Mean Actually Being In The Zone

I went to work yesterday expecting a mess. We had a promotion changeover and I knew the boss wouldn't have it wrapped up before I got in to work. But he did have much more done than I expected.

We had an enormous amount of things to toss out though, so I started bagging up crap to head to the dumpster.

On the second return trip from the dumpster I noticed a young mother with a baby in a stroller, and two toddler aged kids trailing behind her, heading to the mall entrance. She looked a little harried and as I approached her and the mall entrance I offered to get the door for her.

(And yes, I'm somewhat of a gentleman that way. As a bonus she was cute and I thought she might smell nice too, so in order to find out, holding the door seemed to be the best way to determine this.)

As I reached for the door I heard her say "Okay, great".... and I completely zoned out.

(This is a common phenomenon that happens to me and what can trigger it seems to vary wildly. My boss can be discussing some new policy, or work rule that I need to follow, or that I need to quit breaking and bam!.... I'm off in my own little world.

I'm off in La La Land wondering to myself when was the last time I took a piss. I then start to wonder if I need to take a piss. The answer is always no though. But I still have to determine exactly when the last piss occurred anyway. If it's been a sufficiently long enough time in the past I then pretend my bladder has super powers and no one on Earth has the bladder capacity I possess.

I then convince myself I can fly because somehow a full bladder induces levity powers. Then... well... I notice the boss is silent and just staring at me. I mumble that I need to take a piss and wander off to the bathroom to see if I can shake out a couple of drops.)

So yeah, it's not always okay and great being me.

Anyway, back to the door holding operation.

I heard those "Okay, great" words from her and I'm off and running a mental sprint of sorts. I know I'm staring at this girl, but not really seeing her. Those two words, "Okay, great" sounded off, somewhat tinny, and flat.

I wondered why didn't she just say thanks?

What does "Okay, great" really mean?

It didn't sound "okay" or "great" to me. I then tried to put myself in her shoes, mainly the ones pushing a baby in a stroller and two kids under the age of four at her heels. I can see where keeping eyes on this caravan could produce a less than stellar "Okay, great" sounding response.

But then I reconsidered. Maybe she's just exhausted and squeezing out those two words were an extraordinary effort for her. Perhaps, just perhaps, this was among the most "okay and greatest" of things ever performed for her. I was like some knight in shining armor and shit. She just couldn't properly convey it is all.

And then I had to reconsider again, because of that damn "knight in shining armor" thought. Maybe she thought she was royalty of some sort and I was a serf. I mean that "Okay, great" comment didn't sound particularly thankful or right to me anyway. It was just an obligatory remark to someone as lowly as me. She probably regretted saying it actually. I should have felt honored she chose to speak in my presence at all, her being so queenly and stuff.

And just as I was ready to consider another possibility the real world stepped back into play. She and the kiddies had gotten through the door, and she was staring at me and speaking to me. I then realized that her "Okay, great" comment had actually included a "thanks" at the end of it.

She had this strange look on her face and was asking me "Are you alright, mister?" Naturally the first thing that pops out of my mouth is "I'm fine, sorry about that, I've just got to take a piss."

To her credit she just nodded her head, then practically ran to get some distance between herself and me.

And dammit! While holding the door I was cognizant enough to verify she was cute but I don't really recall if she smelled nice. The best I can report is that she didn't smell bad. I'm sure I'd have picked up on that. Still a failure upon my part though.

Smoking Induces The Strangest Encounters

I'm a smoker. A relatively polite smoker at that. But a smoker nonetheless.

There are places I won't smoke, like the car, restaurants, or in someones face basically. I respect the fact that people aren't fond of second hand smoke. So I trudge outside and away from people. Invariably someone tracks me down though when I'm outside of the mall where I work to "chit chat."

Now if they're a fellow smoker there's no real harm in this. I can't kill them with my second hand smoke any worse than the first hand smoke they inflict upon themselves I figure. But to tell you the truth I don't go outside to socialize with anyone. I'm not a social smoker. I'm on the clock and just trying to inhale and exhale as quickly as possible and get back to work. The whole speaking and smoking at the same time thing slows the process down. I really have no interest in multi-tasking during the course of one of life's death inducing activities simple pleasures for me.

In essence I just want to be left alone to inflict this damage to myself.

Friday afternoon I exit the mall, make the right turn down the sidewalk, and trudge about 20 yards away from the mall entrance, only to be followed by someone. A short rotund old lady rose off the bus waiting bench her ass was warming to speak to me. A non-smoking short rotund old lady.

This sidewalk leads to... exactly nowhere. Exactly the place a polite smoker goes to smoke. (You know, away from short rotund old ladies as a matter of fact.)

As I see her waddling toward me I turn away from her and wander down another 5 yards to the end of the sidewalk to nowhere. I turn to see this hasn't deterred her advance upon me. It then hit me what she was after, or so I thought at the time, she wanted a cigarette. As she draws nearer I dig one out, and my lighter. I figured I'd just save some time, hand it over, and be able to smoke in peace.

Wrong move apparently, as the following conversation took place:

Short Rotund Old Lady: Put that damn thing away.
Me: Um, okay.
Short Rotund Old Lady: Nasty damn habit.

Me: What can I do for you ma'am?

Short Rotund Old Lady: Young man, don't you know those things can kill you?

Me: Well ma'am, you're not the first to tell me that.

Short Rotund Old Lady: I used to smoke myself. If I can quit anyone can. You need to quit smoking. Now I can't even stand the smell of those damn things any more.

Me: Is this what you came over here for?

Short Rotund Old Lady: Yes. 

Me: Well, thanks for the advice, but I've got to get back to work.

Short Rotund Old Lady: Are you going to quit?

Me: Ma'am, really, thank you for your concern, but no I'm not going to quit.

Short Rotund Old Lady: Don't you care about your health? Don't you have any will power?

Me: Ma'am I'm sure your intentions are very good here, but I don't know you, I'm not bothering anyone, unless they decide to chase me down and give me a lecture, so I think it's just best if we part ways now.

Short Rotund Old Lady: So now you're scared of an old lady, huh?

Me: Okay ma'am, my boss is a pretty understanding guy so I guess we can discuss this a little more if you really want to. I can deal with crazy intrusive people when necessary.

Short Rotund Old Lady: I'm not crazy, and whatever that other word is either!

Me: Ma'am, you got off a bench that is located about 10 yards from the mall entrance, followed me approximately 35 yards away from said bench, to intrude upon my time. My much preferred alone time and much preferred alone spot away from people who don't like the smell and second hand smoke of cigarettes. Now.....

(And then I stop and remind myself she's an old lady. Just walk away I tell myself, walk away. 


As I start to step around her she grabs my arm.)

Short Rotund Old Lady: Don't you care about your health? What about the cost smoking puts on our health care system? We all have to pay for this nasty habit you know. I'm a senior citizen who has trouble paying for insurance as it is. This habit costs all of us.

(Fuck, fuck, fuck.... ah fuck it.)

Me: Ma'am, I'm going to leave you with a thought about the cost of health care. One just as valid as the one you're trying to shove up my ass. There are studies that have shown obesity costs us far more than smoking does. I'm willing to make a deal with you. I'm going to guess that you're approximately 75 pounds overweight. When you lose 50 of those pounds come back and see me. I'll quit smoking and we can crusade together hitting up every buffet in the state railing against the people who fill up more than 3 plates of food. We can wreak havoc and mayhem stealing their plates, blocking the buffet line, overturning the dessert bar, what ever it takes, all in the name of caring about their health and the obesity problem plaguing this country. Is that a deal?

Short Rotund Old Lady: What? Huh? What are you talking about?

Me: Nothing, I'm just talking about my need to get back to work, and away from busybodies.

Short Rotund Old Lady: You just don't.... what are you....? I'm confused.

Me: Yes you are, but have a nice day regardless.

So now I'm not only a non-social smoker but an asshole as well. I reduced myself from six feet tall to about 6 inches tall in stature in less than 5 minutes. Man, I know better than this. If this person had been my age, or younger, there would be absolutely no remorse, and probably harsher words said in all reality. I'm hoping I was just tired though due to only getting about 4 hours of sleep the night before. I'm usually polite and deferring to senior citizens. Even crazy ones. Damn.   

So I'm On Twitter

I joined Twitter a couple of weeks ago. Mainly due to seeing a few blog posts from people extolling the site in driving traffic to their blogs.

(Hey, I'm not afraid to admit I want traffic. I think this blog should be required reading, especially for the Mensa type crowd. After all, as intelligent as they may be, I think this place would provide them some satisfaction in their superior intelligence. They could thank their lucky stars that they're not as stupid as me.)

So this means I'm a twit, in more ways than one. But I'm kind of getting into this whole Twitter thing.

One thing that disturbs me though is the ominous message across the top of my Twitter home page that reads:

Psst... the new version of Twitter is here.   Try it now!

Well, psst.... the old version is new to me. Like any other old decrepit geezer I harbor a deep resistance to change. It's human nature, especially the older you get to be, to fear change. When I was younger, not so much fear. I boldly embraced moving on from 8-track tapes to cassettes. I then even moved on from them to CD's. I moved on from leisure suits as well with little to no mental scarring as well. Tidy whities were replaced with boxers.

(I'm still mulling that choice as a not particularly wise one though. I had a pair of boxers which were a little on the short side once and any type of "excitement" allowed a peekage event to occur. You know, kind of like a Jack-In-The-Box scenario. You get "Jack" wound up enough even he's going to pop out on you.

That probably isn't one of my prouder revelations shared here. But I take solace in the fact that there'll be others as mind numbing as that one displayed in the future.)

Anyway, back to Twitter.

So I stare at this message and recall when "new Twitter" was a trending topic. Most of the comments were unflattering. (See, even an old decrepit geezer like me investigates, and in this case to see my fear may not be unfounded.) So I haven't hit that "Try it now!" button. But I know one day I'm going to log in to Twitter and the new version is going to be the only version. I guess I'll muddle through some how.

But back to what I like about Twitter is the blogs I've found, and liked, and either added to my follower list or blogroll. This has been a great source for finding great blogs to read. I've got to tell you there are some talented and seriously funny people there. I aspire to be like them.

I don't have a huge following as of yet. I guess people haven't embraced following a stupid and needy persona, such as mine, to date. But I'm hopeful.

If you're inclined, feel free to hit that "Follow Me On Twitter" link in my sidebar. I promise you a world of fabulously witty mundane and boring ass tweets of mine to peruse. Especially if you're a part of the Mensa crowd, and stuff. Your feeling of superiority will soar.

So I'm Not Awfully Bright And Other Troubling Things

I left my car unlocked at work yesterday. I never always leave my car unlocked. Not terribly bright, but there's nothing in there to steal, or so I thought.

While I didn't catch, or see the thief, I have the perfect visual of the miscreant. A wild-haired nicotine freak with hunger pains. Yesterday was one of the few times there were things in the car that were worth stealing. The items not stolen were a set of golf clubs in trunk, two packs of cigarettes in glove compartment, 12-pack of diet Coke, small bag of fishing lures worth $97.34 as per the receipt, and two new paperback books from Barnes and Noble.

What was taken? The car cigarette lighter and my lunch club card to Old Country Buffet. I drove home from work last night without the ability to light the cigarette dangling between my lips and the knowledge that lunch is now going to cost me an extra $1.00 every time I eat at the buffet.

A pretty miserable and tragic ride home and one which no one can possibly match the heartache I'm going through with the loss of those items. Don't even try try to top this with any tale of woe happening in your life right now. You'll just look silly and pathetic in any attempt to draw attention to yourself and take away the outpouring of sympathy I'm expecting to see for me in the comment section. You've got your own blog to beg for sympathy, so feel free to beg there for it.

(Now that reality is setting in, feel free to beg for sympathy for your tale of woe because you may actually get some sympathy. I'm expecting references to myself as being an idiot.)

My 22 month old granddaughter swears like a sailor.

She came running up to me this afternoon, thrust a hand in the hair, and shouted "Fuck!"

Huh?

And then she did it again.

I'm saying "No, no honey, don't say that and let's put that sock on your foot you're carrying around. I'm going to have some words with your father when he gets home this afternoon from work about his language."

So she throws the sock at me, points at it, and shouts "Fuck!" once again.

Yeah folks, I am just that quick, nobody needs to be a smart ass and tell me they knew immediately what she was trying to really say. We all know you'd be lying anyway and any attempt to make me feel any dumber than I already feel would be a waste of time. I probably wouldn't get that quickly either.

My son gets home from work and I still feel it's my parental duty to chew his ass about his language anyway. What did I have to lose? After all I'm not very bright. He just laughed and asked how many times I had to put her socks back on her feet. He's a smart ass too.

An Open Letter To David Arquette

Dear David,

I stopped myself from writing this letter last week. I almost felt bad for you when I heard that you and Courtney Cox were splitting up. When a frumpy, little to no talent, and annoying man snags a beauty like Cox many of us guys would harbor a little hate for you. But not I. You actually provided many of us frumpy, little to no talent, and annoying guys inspiration and hope that perhaps we could snag a beauty some day ourselves.

Of course I couldn't help but wonder how you did this. But hey, matters of the heart are sometimes unexplainable. It made me a true believer in the age old adage that "love is blind." It made me believe I could find a half-blind beauty myself.

When the two of you released the statement last week announcing your split I was a wee bit perplexed though.

Stating how much the two of you still loved and respected each other is never a good thing for a marriage. Why most couples I know, who've ever split up, feel that same exact way. I'm sure they've fallen ever so more deeply in love, and wallowed in over powering respect for one another that a split is the best way to handle it. You cannot possibly stay together relying on those two attributes. We all know this.

But then a light bulb went off here. Since I think you're a seriously loserly weird guy and Cox, while a beauty, may be as loserly weird as you, I just knew you two were up to something. This was a definite publicity stunt to prove that absence does make the heart grow fonder. I was feeling quite smug. You know David, you've got to get up pretty damn early in the morning to get anything by me.

But you did.

I'm sure you felt that going on Howard Stern's radio show was an excellent idea to preserve that love and respect aspect of your relationship. Telling the public the two of you haven't had sex in over four months is one way to endure yourself to any woman. You're a genius David! Also revealing that Courtney is tired of having to act "like a mother to you" is an excellent sign of a strong and loving relationship as well. Courtney had to be thrilled you let us in that little gem as well.

(I've got to tell you David I'm a little weirded out by that one myself. Most guys I know, even utterly loserly immature ones like you, don't wanted to be considered as a child. And I'm pretty sure she felt having sex with a child was a bit weird too.)

But you didn't stop there did you David. You had one more nail for your coffin and had to use it. Telling a woman she has issues in private is a dicey proposition. Doing it in public is relationship suicide. You've thrown me into utter despair here David. I feel very bad.

Not for you, loserly weird guy. For me.

While you once provided inspiration and hope that frumpy, little to no talent, and annoying guys may have a shot with a beauty we now know it would be a charade. We'd end up heartbroken. So thanks David, thanks a lot.

Sincerely,

Just Plain Tired

State Of The Blog

This weekend marks a milestone of sorts. (Well, not much of one, but one nonetheless.)

The one month anniversary of this blog will be celebrated this weekend. (I plan on getting the blog quite drunk. Anyone wanna volunteer to be the designated driver in case it needs a ride anywhere?)

But in all seriousness, I'm pleased with how things are going. I've found some great people to follow and add to my blog roll. And the comments left here are a great joy to see, and much appreciated. You guys/gals rock, and stuff.

It's funny how my direction changed in the first week of the blog. I envisioned blogging mostly about political events and throwing a lot of rants around in here. While there are a few of those types of posts, for the most part I've steered away from that and have posted pretty much utter nonsensical posts.

I've discovered a few things in the last month.

Such as:

1) Light and fluffy posts seem to be favored over more serious posts. So I've leaned that way and the majority of the posts in here are light and fluffy, a lot like my award winning pancakes.

(Well, okay, maybe not quite like that. While my posts may be described as light and fluffy affairs, I think my pancake making skills would be better put to use as boat anchors. Anyone who has ate any pancakes I've ever made will probably tell you their asses drag on the ground when walking away from the breakfast table. It's not a pretty sight)

2) As I've blog hopped I've seen a few posts touting the superiority of Wordpress over the Blogger platform. I'm in no position to dispute that. But I'm pleased with the Blogger platform and haven't had any issues using it. And.....

it's free, a cheapskate like me drools over free stuff, especially when it fills the requirements I have.

3) There are a lot of talented people who blog. My blogging efforts pale in comparison to the writing skills and story telling I've run across. Adding my blog to the web is an effort to balance out this phenomenon with the unskilled/untalented drivel I post. I'm that guy people can point at haughtily and they can say their blog is better than this one. And many of them would be spot on.

So in closing this train wreck of a post I want to thank you for taking the time to read this blog. Your perseverance in reading this drivel will be rewarded in your next life. If you're nutty enough to believe in reincarnation I can promise you, at the very least, you won't come back as a roll of toilet paper. My crystal ball is a little too murky to promise anything else. But hey, who wants to be a roll of toilet paper anyway? Nothing good happens to toilet paper.

Ciao for now, I'll leave the blog on for you.

Some Recovery, Huh?

I saw the following headline a couple of days ago:

Service sector growth accelerated September stock market gains.

That's a real head scratcher to me. I have issues with "so-called" economists who have declared that the recession is over, with some declaring that it ended as early as June of 2009. I want to be a part of that fantasy world they live in.

The recession hasn't ended as they love to proclaim. It has simply eased somewhat from the depths it hit in late 2008 and early 2009. No way can anyone claim a recession has ended when unemployment remains near ten percent. And that ten percent is skewed by the fact that it doesn't include people who have given up on employment, nor does it take into account the number of people who were reduced to part-times hours either.

Banks, insurance companies, and many corporations have reported record profits over the last two to three quarters. What are they doing with this money? The one thing they're not doing is hiring, and I'm willing to concede there are valid reasons behind this.They know this recovery, or the proclaimed end of this recession, is a farce. So they're hoarding the profits they've made.

A recovery is going to be hindered by many things. One being the greed and stupidity of the last decade that threw the average American so far into debt that they need sunshine pumped down to them to see daylight. Another factor is we've become a country which produces much less than we did as little as 20 to 30 years ago. Corporations fled to third world countries to make products at a fraction of the cost it takes to produce them here.

Usually you reap what you sow. Eventually this practice will have to catch up with them. When we lose jobs here to overseas operations it means less income here to spend on those products. Of course the money these corporations have saved moving production out of the country negates some of this issue. But I see that starting to change. But it's almost too little, too late.

You can't expect a sustainable recovery with no addition of jobs. You can't expect a sustainable recovery with the amount of government debt racked up over the last few years either.

70% of our economy is driven by consumer spending. How about we put the consumers back to work to enable some spending?

To me, most of you so-called economists, are nothing but parasitic mouthpieces for Wall Street and banking institutions.

I Have To Admit I Laughed

Working in a mall setting can be interesting at times. You see a wide range of people from extraordinarily normal to extraordinarily bizarre. What I saw on Sunday gave me a flashback to the movie "What's Eating Gilbert Grape."

And as the blog post title infers, I laughed.

On some level this makes me a bad person in this instance. While there was humor in the situation, the cause of said humor was pathetic. I'm trying to justify laughing as a defense trigger when you see something bizarre, disgusting, and sad all rolled up in one package. Laughing was a cover for the revulsion I felt.

So where is this going, huh?

There is a store located directly across from us that caters to shoppers of the female persuasion. It's not a store for the petite shopper, at least if they're shopping for themselves.

(Man, there's just no way to come out of this looking good for me is there? I'm truly not trying to offend anyone with a weight issue.

Scout's honor!)

But a weight issue was the crux of the problem.

A woman entered the store, unseen by me at the time, looking to add to her wardrobe. Apparently things went downhill rather quickly when the store didn't have her size in stock. And that's when I saw her. She was furious, and loud.

She accused the staff at the store of hiding clothes that would fit her in the stockroom. She berated them for being too lazy to help her. They were conspiring against her in her own words. Lawsuits were threatened. She. Was. Totally. Out. Of. Control.

She was biggest person I've seen in real life. I've seen a few television shows with the bedridden obese person and that's what came to mind to me. I was amazed that she was capable of being mobile in all honesty. And I laughed, but it wasn't funny. It was horrifying in a sense.

Yet I laughed.

And now I feel bad about it.

Security was called and this just sent this lady higher into orbit. She started to swing her arms at them in an attempt to hit one of them. (This is actually when I laughed.) Every time she swung her arms her body twisted 180 degrees and I thought she'd eventually fall. Thankfully that never happened.

The police were called. The lady was actually arrested. Disturbing the peace and assault charges pending from what I've gathered. She was taken to jail in her own vehicle. A specialty type of van to accommodate her. Her companion, who brought her to the mall, had to drive to the police station with an officer aboard the vehicle. Because of this rather unusual arrest a total of four police vehicles were used in this arrest. Two were in front of the van, two were behind the van, as she was taken to jail. All in the name of safety I was told.

And the saddest part of this? This lady has shopped at this store for years. But never in person. The store manager told me this was her first appearance in the store. This lady was well aware that her size of clothing wasn't stocked in the store. They always accommodated her by special orders, which probably aren't going to happen any more by the sound of things.

The staff at this store were shell-shocked. Both the manager and the other lady working there yesterday stated they've talked to her on the phone numerous times in the past when she ordered clothes. She was always pleasant to deal with over the phone apparently.

So now I sit here wondering what possessed this woman to do this. I'm also sitting here wondering what possessed me to laugh as well. The situation was bizarre, but truly not funny, now that I've had time to reflect on it. Just very sad.

The Stigma Of Community Service

I dunno.

When I was younger community service didn't mean what it seems to mean in today's world. It once seemed like a noble and good thing to do. But now, not so much, at least in one degree.

(Just a disclaimer of sorts, serving your community is a good thing.)

Now when I hear of, or see someone performing community service, I wonder what illegal activities occurred for them to be performing community service. What heinous crime did this person commit to get sentenced to community service? Is this the first time? Is this dude who's helping me find a book at the library serving part of his sentence doing community service for armed robbery? Is he now eying my ass because it's cute, or just scoping out the bulge......

my wallet is creating in my pants?

(I know at least one of you wondered what bulge I was talking about for a second there. It's okay, I welcome perverts here as well. Ah shit, that'll be a word for the search engines, won't it?)

Anyway, that's my random thought for the day. Aren't you glad I shared it with you?

Wait....

Do you have time for another random thought?

Good news for Catholics in a small church in Wisconsin. Their Priest stands accused of simply stealing church funds. Much better crime, and more socially acceptable, than sexually abusing little boys in my opinion.

Always a silver lining folks.

And as alluded to in the last post I expect to be offline fairly early today. I know, I know, I'll be as sorely missed as a fat kid at a birthday party who samples the frosting on the cake several times, and licks his fingers between sampling.

I May Be Here, Or I May Not

I just discovered the blogger feature that allows scheduling of future posts in less than three weeks of blogging here. Less. Than. Three. Weeks. People. Wow, huh?

(Yeah, I'm quick like that, don't hate my brilliance.)

And this post is a result of this knowledge.

As some of you know there was a little snafu at the homestead here recently. For those who don't, and have a few minutes of their life to waste, you can go here to get up to speed on it.

So I may be offline today. (Well not today for me. Today is actually yesterday for me. But today for you.)

But I wanted to leave some words in here for you to see. Even if it's a craptacular post as this. I'm thoughtful like that, and stuff.

If I'm offline I'll spend time catching up with all your doings tomorrow, or Friday. Because with my luck, Thursday may come and things won't be completed here by then either.

And there will be a post tomorrow regardless, this scheduling posts for future reading is a hoot, or something.

Ciao.

They Say The First Step Is Admitting To The Problem

I'm lazy.

There, I said it.

It's actually served me well.

Now your definition of lazy may differ dramatically from mine. I prefer to define mine as "the appreciation of much needed, and well deserved, down time." I adhere to this thought process, nay life style, wholeheartedly and vigorously. I'm quite ambitious in this pursuit of lazytude.

And what has this gained me?

A lack of appreciation and acceptance of my brand of laziness from family, friends, and co-workers. They refuse to even acknowledge that I'm lazy, despite my protests and irrefutable evidence to the contrary. This is an affront to my character and integrity.

So now I'm having to rethink this whole laziness lifestyle. I've allowed an inkling of doubt to creep into my thoughts. And it's maddening. What if they're right?

I like doing my own thing, or several things, and work interferes with that. I want to lounge around. I want to fish or golf all day. I want to read a book in its entirety in one sitting. I want to just simply stare off into space. I want to watch paint dry, or grass grow, so to speak. I want to take a nap when I'm tired. Work always gets in the way. I can't ignore this.

While I freely admit to being lazy my mind refuses to let me procrastinate. If there's something that needs done I can't be lazy. And so I do the work, all in the pursuit of the maximum amount of lazy time possible. You can't half-ass this process if you're truly lazy. You're only fooling yourself if you do, but not me buster. Performing a necessary chore lazily just cuts into true "lazy time." If that's the way you approach this, at least in my mind, you're not taking advantage of real, and satisfying, lazy time.

Hopefully I've inspired at least one person today to embrace this true definition of lazy. Anyone else who claims to be lazy, without approaching laziness in the same manner as I do, is simply a fraud. Don't be taken in by them. I know and live the true path to pure, and perhaps guilt free, laziness.

Just Some Advice For The Young Bucks Out There

Okay you finally got that first date lined up with the girl of your dreams, or at least your current dreams. (And as a father I know exactly what you're dreaming about.)

Now it's time to meet the parents before said such first date. You're probably nervous, and you should be. As a matter of fact you should be "shitting your pants" nervous. But you're probably not bright enough to be quite that nervous.

Meeting the mom isn't usually a big deal. It's dad you have to worry about, because you're about to take "Daddy's Little Girl" out. He hasn't even met you yet but you're the Anti-Christ. You are a loathsome creature only worthy of contempt and mistrust. (And trust me, even if he seems polite, or actually nice to you, you're still a piss ant in his mind.)

Disclaimer: If it's a single parent involved, and it's the mother, I know of several who admirably fill the "dad" role in this situation. Get scared... 'nuff said.

As a father I know you're going to try to make a good impression, if only to please the girl. So you're going to play nice the first time you meet the parents, even if you're not a nice guy. (And don't think for a minute we think you're a nice guy. It's not a fair playing field here and you're not assumed to be nice from the get-go.)

But I am going to actually give you good advice based on personal experience. Just bear with me a moment as I set the stage. For you see I was once in your exact predicament. The father I encountered was polite and seemed nice. These are the guys you have to be the most scared of and on the lookout for.

So I met the parents. They asked what we going to do and were told a movie and pizza. So far, so good, and most importantly no lies. So out the door we go and I'm still alive and feeling pretty good about how the "meet the parents" went. Boy was I in for a surprise.

For you see the girl's father fell into the polite and seemingly nice category. Nothing in my young life had me prepared to match the cunning of this type of guy.

The town we lived in had a theater which showed 3 movies. As we had yet to decide on which movie to watch I asked the girl which movie she'd like to see. (At this point I was like a passenger on the Titanic just mere hours before hitting the iceberg, blissfully asleep before pending doom.)

But asked I did, and of course she knew just the movie she wanted to see. Daddy had seen a preview of one of the movies showing apparently and convinced "Daddy's Little Girl" which one was the best option. Having never heard of the movie I asked her what it was about, and she didn't know, but she was sure Daddy had good taste and wouldn't steer us wrong. (Remember this was the "first" date, the one where you feel a powerful obligation to please the girl. And as a bonus in this instance you also realize this is the ticket to get in the father's good graces by using his recommendation.)

So you readily agree that this is just the movie to see. You're beguiled by the girl and want to make her happy, always with the thought of course of getting into her pants.

The movie in this case was called "Buffalo Rider." Seriously. The entire movie comprised of a guy riding around the wilderness endlessly yapping. I can't tell you what he was yapping about. And the worst thing? We sat through the entire movie. I would repeatedly glance at her and to see if she was enjoying the movie. And I couldn't get a read. I wanted to leave, but feared if she was actually enjoying the movie the first date would be a last date. I just couldn't risk that!

So we sat through this 'effin movie. This soul sucking event managed to depress any thoughts of  getting into the girls pants. My brain was fried and my whole body felt numb. I just wanted to go home. And that's exactly what daddy wanted. Sneaky, cunning bastard anyway.

So don't be fooled young guy. While you're under the illusion you made a good impression on "Daddy" you didn't. While you may not have been considered the Anti-Christ you definitely fell into the piss ant category.