Steven Segal Game

January 30, 2006 at 10:09 AM | Posted in Uncategorized | 3 Comments
Me and my son have a game we play.  If we are surfing and happen across a Steven Segal movie (we don’t watch them on purpose, it just happens) –if we happen across one of his movies, we have to watch until he twists some one’s head and breaks their neck.
Sometimes it can take as long as eight minutes.
But you can play it as a drinking game, and do a shot every time he breaks someone’s neck.  You would be very drunk it a very short amount of time.

I swear I am done with the death thing

January 26, 2006 at 12:27 PM | Posted in Uncategorized | 3 Comments
So, yes I am a Christian, even though it appears that I am a godless heathen.  That is just my professional persona, for laughs.  I believe.  Then why am I not prosletyzing, trying to save people, and so forth?
Well, Heaven is going to be crowded enough the way it is.  I don’t really want to be bunking with some hairy, nose-picking, 8th Century goniff.
Ever been the victim of an over-booked flight?  I’m not taking any chances.
Along the same lines (and I guess I need to include this in my last wishes, along with the practical joke thing which I still want to do), when I am buried, I want to be buried, not cremated–cremation is for heathens.  It’s what my mom did, it’s what my dad wants, and he is a heathen and proud of it.
But I want to be buried in the plain pine wood coffin.  And not sealed around the edge with superglue, either.  What the hell are people thinking?  When Jesus comes back, and the resurrection begins, I want to be able to get OUT of my coffin!  Plan ahead, people.

A Chill Wind

January 25, 2006 at 9:03 AM | Posted in Uncategorized | 3 Comments
Is this a stony silence, a stunned silence, or the "I’ve lost my audience" silence?

End Times

January 24, 2006 at 12:40 AM | Posted in Uncategorized | 1 Comment
  My friend Karl had been concerned about me after reading the
“We Had Joy,–“ and the posts that followed. 
He thought I had a death fixation. 
Maybe I did, but I am so over that. 
I mean, that was days ago.  I am so over that, except for this final
(ironic, huh?), finishing touch.
  I haven’t thought this through very well, which is probably
for the best, but here is what I got so far:

  I fully intend to outlive my wife.  I may not, but I intend to.  She is slightly older, has many bad habits,
and creaks like an outhouse in the winter. 
While I am not in the best health, I am pretty damn healthy, comparatively,
and I have been actively working on getting healthier.  More on that in a later post.  My point is this.  I feel underappreciated by her  (a typical lament, I’m sure), especially
where humor is concerned.  After almost
18 years, she just doesn’t think I am funny anymore.  That hurts. 
That hurts a lot.  I think one of
the few talents I have, aside from my awesome nunchuck skills, is humor.
  So I have a plan.  If
I die before her, I want to remind her—and everyone else, too—of my skewed
sense of humor.  I want to be remembered
for it.

  I need two female volunteers to show up at my funeral and
pretend to be my grieving widows.
  Listen, it’ll be great. 
I already have someone who can be the contact person, and he has agreed
to do it.  I’m sure it may be difficult,
but well worth it.  Has anyone else every
played a practical joke from beyond the grave? 
I expect the widows to take it as far as they can, possibly only caving
after the burial, and then letting everyone in on it.  I will work out the details of that
  And, also, since I am dead, I won’t be there to see it, so I
need someone to digitally record it, and then email it to me.  I’ll be at: 

 I mean, this is like a final wish.  I am pretty serious about this.  This is how I want to be remembered.  I am eternally an asshole.

I’ve been what?

January 19, 2006 at 11:43 PM | Posted in Uncategorized | 7 Comments
Well, okay–I’ve been tagged, so I have to list 5 quirky things about me. ….

I can sleep ANYWHERE.

I flirt with every female I come in contact with.

I have never EVER finished a project –scratch that- I have finished ONE project in my adult life.  —20 years

I am terrified of bees and wasps.

I like to put cereal on ice cream

I dont know if I know if other people to tag who have blogs.  (is that another one?  is that 6?)

When You Wish Upon A Cyst

January 18, 2006 at 10:45 AM | Posted in Journal | 2 Comments
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And thank all you guys for caring and responding.  Okay, both of you.
So, I went to the doctor.
My boss, my friend, Kim, came into work, stopped by my cube yesterday morning, discussing the hill climbing that is the stairs.  I agreed, saying I never take them in the morning, I have to wake up and warm up first.
She looked right at me.  “What’s wrong?”  I hesitated, then pointed to her office, which is where all private conversations take place.  I think it is amazing, and wonderful, that we know each other that well, that she can tell–or maybe I just wasn’t concealing it well.  Nevertheless, I told her what I had found.
I don’t remember the exact conversation, but she told me the things necessary to calm me down and make me feel better.  She told me about her lump, which turned to to be just a cyst, and about her spastic reaction, thinking about wearing wigs (because of the chemo) and whatnot.  I had been thinking the whole time about dying, and she was talking about the survivability.  It was coming at me pretty fast, it seemed like.  I was overwhelmed.  Then she said, “Have you called your doctor?”
Well, no.  I mean, I meant to.  I was going to, as soon as I was done freaking out enough to pick up the receiver.  “Call your doctor.  Tell them what’s going on, and they will see you today.  You may need an MRI or CAT scan, but get in today so they can take care of it.  You caught it real soon, it can be taken care of.”
So I called.  They said this morning, or this afternoon.  I went with afternoon, still don’t know why.  But I left early enough to go by school and register (late) for the class that started that night, made sure the bookstore would be open later, then went to my appointment.  I held onto the idea that, if I’m dying, I’m going to get my money back for this damn class.  I am not going to waste my time on this.  I would take an art class, instead.
When I saw him, we talked about a few different things, my diet, my weight, was I exercising, was I taking my meds.  Yes, yeah, and yea.  “Okay, good.  When do we need to see you again–” and he headed for the door.
I said, “That’s not why I came in.”
He raised an eyebrow, the way doctors do.  I explained, he grabbed the gloves and said, go ahead and drop your drawers.  Apparently, the equipment down there is more complicated than I thought.  It is definitely big.  –Shut up.  Just–shut up.  He was feeling towards the back, and I was directing him towards the front.  Finally, he finds it.
He straightens up.  “I gotcha.  That is not in the testicle, it’s in the skin.  It’s an oily cyst.  Nothing to worry about.  We can take it out if you like.  Local anesthetic and two stitches–” he saw the expression on my face “–your choice.  I want to see you again in three weeks to make sure there’s no change.  It’s harmless, but like I said I can take it out.”
I felt a couple of different emotions at once:  relief, and embarrassment over how terrified I was.  As I drove home, I reflected that none of that has really changed.  I still felt that I didn’t want to die, and I felt that being that close to it made me aware of how precious little time I have left.  Even if it’s 40 years.  I haven’t done the things I wanted to do.  It wasn’t looking like I was going to.  And it occurs to me while I write this, that I remember a movie, High Fidelity, where John Cusack made a lot of lists, like top-ten lists.  One of them was top ten dream jobs?  May be I should make a list of my dreams, things I wanted to do, and see how well I fair towards making them come true.  For this to BE a life-changing moment, I have to MAKE it a life-changing moment.  But I’m not climbing Mt Fucking Everest.
When Grow Up, I want to–
1.  Be an astronaut.  Go into space.  Go to Mars.
2.  Live a long, long, long-ass time.
Time to get real.
3.  I want to write.  I have easily 30-50 story ideas in my head, screaming at me to get out and get on paper.  Some of them might be good.
4.  I want to get back to creating my comic strip, and be confident enough to submit it for publication.  Same goes for the novels if I ever finish one.
5.  To continue with the writing theme, I’d like to publish some of my articles and essays.
6.  I want to get to a point in my job where I don’t have to work a second job.  This is actually related to the last three items, so I can spend more time doing those, or doing whatever I want.
7.  I want to take a vacation either on a cruise or to one of those all-inclusive resorts.  Like to plan this for our 20th anniversary, which is in 2 years.
8.  I may still want to try to get my blackbelt. . .
You know, I don’t have these finished, and I think that’s okay.  It means I still have room and space for more, new dreams.

We Had Joy, We Had Fun

January 17, 2006 at 10:17 AM | Posted in Journal | 3 Comments
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  Well!  Let me tell you about my weekend!  It was pretty exciting!
  Let’s see. . . Well, I don’t actually remember what happened on Saturday.  What did happen?  What the hell. . .I think I laid around played a video game, cleaned up in the basement a little.  That was it.  Hmmm.  Okay, maybe not so exciting.  Sunday, I did what I was supposed to do on Saturday, which was, work on my wife’s car.  Problem with the windshield wipers.  When I got to the heart of the problem, and I knew it was going to come to this, I made a trip to the junk yard.  I want to know when, and why, did junk yards become so sensitive and politically correct?  They want to be called "salvage yards" now.  "Junk yard" has a bad connotation.
  Whatever, dudes.  It’s down in the city (about a fifty mile drive for me), in the worst part of the city, it’s scary to get to and even scarier to go into.  A place where you can be offered drugs or sex for sale in between the rows of cars, where people will ask for 2 dollars to buy the part they need, where you better not need anything out of the trunk of a car, because those are urinals now.  Junk yard may not be a strong enough term.
  So I took care of that, and it was good to have a sense of accomplishment.  Monday, I was off, and paid for it, which was nice.  I bought a heavy workout bag from someone at work a few days ago, something I have wanted my entire adult life, and I finally got one.  My son and I built a support and hung it in the basement, and cleared some space near the weights.  We have an actual workout place now.
  Oh, but I did work Monday night, at my second job.  Starting this week my schedule changes because school starts.  For the next 16 weeks, it’s going to be Monday night, work, Tuesday night, school, Wednesday night, school, Thursday night, work. And Friday night, I’ll probably go to bed early.  But at least I still have my weekends free.  Which, I have been on this job almost a year, and I am just starting to get used to having the weekends off.
  But I like working Monday, because it’s generally slower and easier, and my good friend Karl works on Monday night.  Since I switched up jobs, I haven’t been able to hang out with him as much.  So this is a good change.
Let’s see–what else happened?  Well, I went home Monday night, took a shower, went to bed, and woke up about 4 am, for no apparent reason, with my hand on my nuts.
  I felt a lump.
  My life didn’t flash in front of my eyes, but lots of other things did.  I managed to go back to sleep somehow, or maybe I just lay there, I’m not really sure.  I thought about my future, and not having one.  I thought about my children, and my wife, and life insurance.  I thought about my unfinished projects, and what plans I had made.  I thought about a song I heard on an infomercial for a Time-Life set set of CD’s from the 70’s,
 "We had Joy, we had fun.
 "We had seasons in the sun,
 "but the hills that we climbed
 "were just seasons out of time."
  Good Lord.  I remember this song.  With a vengeance.
  My wife got up and got ready for work, I said not a word.  This is not something you lay on somebody early in the morning.  I got the kids up and got them ready for school, and wondered who would make my daughter cereal in the morning–and quickly pushed the thought out of my head.  I don’t want to cry, not right now, not to have them ask questions, not in front of my young daughter and jaded teenage son.
  I got them out the door and to their stops, and settled into the car for quite possibly the longest drive to work, subjectively, that I have ever had.  I turned the radio on, turned it off, turned it on, put in a cd, changed tracks 8 or 9 times, put it back on the radio, and left it, but didn’t really listen.
 "Goodbye Michele it’s hard to die
 "When all the birds are singing in the sky"
  I was thinking about my life, and all the things I wanted to do, and all the things I wouldn’t get to do, because now I was going to die.  I thought about leaving my children, and it made me sad.  I thought about the fact that I figured I would last longer than my wife, and this was God playing the irony game with me.  –Your roll.
 "But the sun and the fun
 "like the seasons have all gone"
   (It’s even worse when you have the melody and some of the words but not all of them.  It keeps playing over and over, trying to get it right.  Stupid brain.)
  And then I thought about my wife’s older brother, diagnosed over a year ago, and given a year to live.  He was a normal, quiet guy, now living with my older daughter.  He seems adjusted, and mostly happy, and at peace.  And he does what he wants.
 "Goodbye Pa-pa it’s hard to die–"
  Arrgh.  What is the next line?  Make it stop!
  But he also let it go when he got sick, and didnt go to the doctor for, well, a few years, and that’s how it got bad.  Maybe–maybe, this doesnt have to kill me.  Maybe I can be one of those brave cancer survivors, and write a book, and be on Oprah, and be inspirational.  Didn’t that bike guy–Lance Armstrong–he had it, and he’s okay.  Plus he has a hot wife.
 "We had joy, we had fun–"
  Christ.  Does that mean I’m going to have to take up some kind of dangerouse hobby, or adventurous sport, or travel the world, or some live-changing thing like that, to prove something?
  "But the hills that we climbed
  "Were just seasons out of time"
  To prove what?  And to whom?  I’ve already had my live changing moment.  It was this morning, about 4 am.  It was when I realized, dully, not fully awake, but the thought fully formed, although not completely put into words.  Just the sense that I realized very clearly, how little I wanted to die.
  And how little I wanted to die with that fucking song stuck in my head.
PS–Yes, I’m going to the doctor.  This afternoon.  I’ll keep you posted.  I was too freaked out to even form the thought rationally.  My friend actually helped me, gave me some clarity–enough to call the doctor, at least.  I couldn’t even remember the name of my insurance without looking at the card.  But I called, and explained ever so briefly, and I got in right away.  I could have gone this morning, but I took this afternoon.  Why?  Why not go as soon as possible?  Well, this new feeling I am having, this emotion called terror, is completely new to me, and I want to savor it and enjoy it, that’s why!
Hell, I don’t know.  It’s just a reaction.  Scared to know, scared to not know.

Far Out, Man

January 14, 2006 at 12:07 AM | Posted in Uncategorized | 3 Comments
I just read something about mood rings, and it reminded me of a story. Me and the wife were in a vintage record store several years ago, and they had some retro stuff in there.  Among them, a display of mood rings.
Recalling what my wife had told me about her wild past and what-have-you, I picked one up and was going to buy it for her, a piece of nostalgia.  I said,"What do you think, Hon?  You want a mood ring?"
She snorted,"No.  Those things are crap.  I had one before when I was younger.  It never worked.  It was always black."
I just looked at her.
"No, it was working."

A New Leaflet

January 13, 2006 at 10:52 AM | Posted in Uncategorized | 1 Comment
See, I felt like I had been neglecting the ol’ blog here last couple of weeks.  What happened is, the main piece of equipment I use at work–a high speed scanner–was out for service and maintenance.  Should have been 2 days, instead it was a week and a half.  So I wasn’t using another pc in the office, where I didn’t have access to email, plus it was a shared computer, so I didn’t want to keep any personal files on it.  I’m not saying I constantly tend to my personal stuff while at work, but if I have an idea for an article, it might take a day or two to write before I mount it up on the blog.  So I write it a little at a time, on breaks or even while long documents are scanning.
This here was a two hour gap between the last paragraph.
I just mean, I am on the computer all day long, but I am not–contrary to what it looks like now–wasting time on my blog all day.  But at my own computer, I can more easily take a minute and edit or otherwise manage it.  (Sounds like I’m rationalizing, like I feel guilty, doesn’t it?)
But now that I am back, I can more easily provide the lengthy obloviation (thanks, Bill O’Reilly, for the use of the word!) that you have all come to expect.  I will still, on occasion, have the shorter musings throughout, but I feel when I do that, I am cheating you, the reader.  And I don’t want to do that–I want you to feel like you are getting your money’s worth.
Having said that, awhile ago, I remember some things I mentioned in my ADD blog, and those are the ones I will do for you next.  Not all of my stuff is comedy–even the stuff that is supposed to be.  And I’m still not sure what kind of a spin, what which way to approach one of them. . .I’m curious to see what comes off the keyboard.

chips and stuff

January 12, 2006 at 1:33 PM | Posted in Uncategorized | 1 Comment
I have found, when you eat the flavored little rice cakes, that the flavor is good, but it goes away too soon.  sooner than if you were eating regular sour cream and onion flavor potato chips.  Now, given that, the flavor is on both sides of the little rice cake, just like a potato chip.  The obvious solution is, lick one side of the chip, and then place the other side down on your tongue, to get maximum flavor before it . . .disappears.  Like dust in the wind, dude.
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