Playboy or the Bible....

Can I just tell you how interesting my job is.  Off handedly co-worker while assisting a patients relative with things the client can take to the place he is going to get help indicates that maybe some "reading material" would be good. 

This is a brief transcript of said phone call
"no I don't think Playboy would be appropriate" 
"So thats it Playboy, or the bible"

There is your microcosm of life its all about Playboy or the bible.  This individual is obviously a feast or famine type (get it famine ---- bible "its a joke see"  A joke son (( think foghorn leghorn)).

Keep smilin....

How many People does it take to fix a dryer???

This just in from the wierd, wacky, and frankly stupid.  

Apparently two men where trapped in an industrial dryer and had to be rescued.  This begs so many questions?  1)  what is an industrial dryer?  2)  what were said individuals doing in an industrial driver?  3)Really?  I mean really? 

OK, so I red a little.  Turns out something was jammed.  The first guy went to get it out and was overcome by heat.  The second guy tried to rescue him and was also over come by the heat.  Anybody else picturing a GINORMOUS walk in dryer?  Just me?  OK..... then

Incidentally, guy number three did the math and learning from guys one and two; called for help.  Interestingly, or frighteningly depending on your choice of salad dressings, it took thirty firefighters 1/2 an hour to save the two guys.  Again, we're either dealing with a REALLY REALLY BIG DRYER.  Or after 29 minutes of extended contagious, laugh till your side hurts and you pee on yourself laughter; the firemen heroically removed the two future members of the local chapter of clausterphobics anonymous (meetings are every Tuesday at 6 and 10.  Outdoors. 

Peace

And so it comes to this

Well I've been writing a slanted version of "A Pirate Looks at Forty"  every year for the last ..... I don't know five or six years I think.  Well Shiver Me Timbers, It has come and gone.  I am Forty.  Forty.  I know its just a number.  A really really big number.  It is soooooooo much bigger than thirty-nine. 

Usually I am reflective at these moments. However, as I sit here, I am frankly, well sore.  You see, because I am forty, I absolutely had to play hockey tonight, cause thats what forty year olds do.  One of these days as I sit around icing the things burn and heating the things that are numb it will occur to me, that I am not an athlete.  I sure as shit, am not a hockey player.  Let alone a goalie at that.  Talk about, "hey lets check this guys drug screen again". 

Sports has always been such a big deal to me.   And yet I suck at them.  With consistancy. 

In fact todays epiphany for me, went something along the lines of, "Holy Shit, I'm like Don Quixote sans Wind mills."  For those of you Shakespeare lovers, and you'll really appreciate the irony of this one, I was cast as Bottom the Weaver in Midsummer.  I WAS TYPE CAST.  I think I may have been the only freakin guy in recent history to be type cast as a Jack Ass.  I thought was funny.  Fuck.  I'm a mule.  Not only am I a moron, but I'm some combination of stubborn and proud.  My life script reads like a freakin Mc Donalds commercial with a slant towards health food.  Hey get fat.... But run with or perhaps from a Scary Clown.  Side bar, if ever there was a scary clown its Ronald. 

The birthday, however, was absoulutely magical.  I got to spend it my wife, and three wonderfulsupercalafragilisticexbealadocious children.  I got to laugh with my kids.  I got to hold my little girl while she slept.  I let my soon to be too big to ride on my shoulders son, ride on shoulders, till I couldn't feel my toes.  And my oldest.  My tikva.  Who always makes me smile.  Makes it all worthwhile. 

In short I am blessed.  Lucky and Blessed.  Undeservedly so.  If I could wish for a thing it would be for better things for my family.  Still in this world we live in today, I'll hold my wish and choose to say thank you. 

Last Comic Standing

Ok. So I have a minute to be manic. So, I'm watching that show, "Last Comic Standing" last night, and I wonder how I would stack up against the competition. I gauge it out, and I figure, I probably get one of the guest spot auditions. This is the part where thousands of people try to be funny, in hopes of getting 3-4 minutes of air-time.  90 percent of these people are SLAM FREAKIN NUTS.  99 percent of these people aren't very funny.  I kind of like watching the bizzare and the delusional more than the professional comics honestly.  So after the "Mini Audition" they have the showcase event where people perform before a live audience, and are judged a second time.
So how do I stack up?  Well........ I put me somewhere just off the bubble (see ncaa basketball tourney). I probably don't advance maybe 2-3 deep. Which is to say the people at the end who where "this close (imagine really close)", and who usually say something sarcastic and bitter. I'm like one dude behind angry raincoat guy. Yeah thats me, "not quite angry raincoat guy". I'm "just happy to be on tv guy". I'm "secretly relieved not to advance guy" with "fear of crowds" guy. Which you might think is sad. but then atleast I'm not "totally unfunny psychotic misanthrope guy". You know this guy. He's the angry guy, who gets mad at people who don't get his jokes. He's the guy who comes to the club every week and tells the same unfunny joke, and is equally aghast every week when people groan. I would call him mr. "WHAT??? IT COULD HAPPEN... I GOT AN UNCLE FELIX WHO..... "guy.

Anyways after watching the show, I think to myself.  "Self, life on the cusp ain't so bad".  But then I remind me something.  Something interesting.  All of the people I'm comparing me to have 8 yrs, 10 yrs, 9 yrs experience.  They suck it all in.  They live and breathe the comedy.  It is there all consuming passion.  To whit, I wish them the best.  I suppose someday soonish, I will show up at a comedy club and rant about my misgivings, misinterpretations, mistletoe moments just long enough to bruise or soothe my pathetic ego.  Then I will slip quietly away back into the shadows of the "if only", "I coulda been a contender types". 

Pathetic? Perhaps.  Perspective?  Probably.
Peace

Truth on ice with Chinchillas

Interesting night really.  First we are Chinchilla sitting for a friend. I didn't know that rodents required this kind of affection.  I was also unaware that they had such keen insight into indifference.  Because when I went to get this little "future pair of hand-warmers" out of the cage it bristled and hissed at me.  This cute little ball of fuzz was all huffy and was trying to bite me.  I felt like I had the bad role in "Rikii Tikii Tavi.   My daugther called me a chicken.  A chicken.  Which is ridiculous, because I was really acting more like a @#ssy, a word my daughter better not call me.  Finally I managed to subdue the would be "ear-muffs"  and everyone got to pet it. 

So I'm drifting off to what at best I can call bed, when my phone rings, and I figure its work calling.  Its not.  A local hockey needs a sub goalie and the game already started.  So I dash into my garage, throw the gear in the van and I'm off.  By the time I am in gear, it is the 2nd period and our team is ahead 4-2, bear in mind without a goalie.  So this is really looking good for my ego.  If they can do this without me, well, Katie-bar-the-door.... Not so much.  At 5 to 2 I was pretty happy.  I could even live with 5-3.  However, in the third period, when it was 6-4, I began to feel awkward.  Kinda Really awkward.  7-4, I was ok again.  Seven to five with a couple of minutes, I figured I could hold on. 

Now, when the called timeout with a minute six on the clock because the score was seven t six.  I was not happy.  I saw the potential for being the guy who goes into a game with a team that has no, goalie and a two goal lead, only to have my ass kicked by a chinchilla, and a C league hockey time all in the same night. 

We won.  We held on and won.  My ego remains intact, though bruised.  I will ice up some sore parts.  Rest a little, then later, I am going to by a small fire-arm, and get my wife some Really Comfortable expensive Mittens. 

My pocket pair of Dueces

There are just some days when the hail stones are bigger.  Days when you know its coming, and you can't stop it.  You just kinda-sit there, like a monkey in the rain.  Strangely apathetic to the chill.  That's how I'm rollin today.  I can hear a very large train, and frankly, I don't see no tracks.  Smacks of a bummer.  Who knows though.  Life is interesting at best.  Searingly painful at worst..... So I guess we'll just play the cards we have and see what happens.  I can't lie though.... I'm not feelin really good about my pocket pair of dueces.

mopeds? Really?

You know after your first moped accident goes horrifically wrong, as much as I admire the human spirit to get back up and ride again.  Free with your moped brothers, hair, or combover blowing in the wind.... Nope.  Just doesn't work for me.  If you have been seriously injured on a moped.  WALK.  DO NOT RUN.  Really DON'T RUN.  It is obvious to me that transportation is not your thing.  This individual was showing me crap that Evil Kneivel didn't break, and well....

When your family says, "We're glad its broke (moped) so now maybe he won't get hurt"  Ouch.  Sad.  Forgive me if I don't rush out and try to secure the movie rights to free wheeling tale of mischief and low speed chases, with high curb crashes. 

Somewhere there should be one of those spoof motivational posters that says something funnier than I can imagine, and involves a moped, an oversized person in undersized spandex, and maybe if we're lucky.  A prison tattoo.  Now, hows that for an "In search of Ad" Take that Mr.  Lonely Hearts. 

Question of the day?

If Murphy got into a fight with Karma, who would win?

Not really feeling Froggy

So I just decided to restore my blog for whatever reason.  To validate whatever insecurities I have.  To continue to shout "I'm Important"  said the speck to the Universe (Calvin & Hobbes). 

I would say this.  Another quote I saw somewhere and have previously used. 
     Aunt EM:
      Hate you.  Hate Kansas
                Taking the dog.

my new favorite blog part II

First, let me say that my new favorite blog is so not my new favorite blog for the reasons you would immediately imagine. It's called :


I Shoulda Been a Stripper
RANDOM MUSINGS FROM A NEVER MARRIED 40-SOMETHING WITH ISSUES


I know I know its awesome. But not in a creepy, trailer parky, kind of way. The work is creative, funny, energetic. Its good energy.

So for all of my fan(s) out there, I highly recommend this sight (yes erin, I think you would get a kick out this lady she's funny like you.

Incidentally if the author of this blog is actually a hairy bald man from Desmoine, I will be so crushed, and strangely in need of a shower. Who new?

Night

Greatness

Greatness

Do you remember when it mattered? When it was important? Do you remember mustering the courage to face it? Do you remember the butterflies? Dreams? Motivations?

Do you recall staying up late dreaming about it? Living, and breathing for it? Working for it? Starving for it?

Did you quit when they said you can't? Did you stop when they laughed at you? Or did it make you mad?

Did you just give in? Or did you let that anger forge you into something better? Did you galvanize all of the pain to be better still? Stronger?

I remember when it mattered. I remember constantly swimming upstream toward that something. Then I remembered the distance. The distance slowly growing. I remember short comings identified by those I valued and treasured most. In an instant, Teflon became glue. I remember sinking...... Down and downward still.

I blame no-one but myself. Others views, no matter how close should never serve as deterrent. It was said that when Ali knocked out Sonny that it wasn't so much the force of the blow; rather the blow he didn't see coming. Truth.

In an instant you no longer live in can and can't. You have been removed to indifference. Placed in not wanting to. Why bother? This is the danger in living for others.

Still, we are social creatures. Are we not? So I suppose Greatness can be defined by the knock-out. The strong visceral image of Ali standing over Sonny.

However, Greatness gets up. Greatness wipes the blood off it's chin and goes forward. Greatness believes. Greatness doesn't give up.

Even in the pitch darkness where nothingness lurks and despair cries out in hapless vain; greatness claws strongly forward. Crawling, even stumbling forward with a faith unseen and a sense of self reliance. Greatness finds a way. I don't know how, when, or why. I simply believe in

Greatness

I read the coolest blog last night....

So anyways I read the coolest blog last night. I will mention its name later, as I fail to recall it at present. Here's the thing. The writer had vitality. Life. Enthusiasm. Charisma. It all translated neatly to the page. It was cool. Inspiring even. It took me back to better days when I would just write off the cuff stream of consciousness stuff.

Not that I feel stagnant (I am soooo stagnant). But I was enthralled by the work. My wife leans over my shoulder and I mention this blog and how impressed I am. My wife looks at it, and says; "See thats somebody I could picture you with."

Now, I'm no marriage therapist (I am a therapist); however, when your spouse identifies potential soul mates or kindred entities for you.... Gotta be a warning sign somewhere. Did I also mentioned the blogger was a cereal killer (kidding)?

Its moments like these when my wife makes marital remarks, when I feel the spirit of Rodney Dangerfield take hold.

So anywho, long story short. New blog cool. Funny. ier than me (jealous).

Anyways, dear reader(s) I'll keep you posted when I find the title of the blog.

peace,
j

I'm so shallow...

I just read this account of the initial Tiger Woods incident. I have to say it is the most plausable account yet. Interesting because the source had nothing to gain from sharing, which makes it all the more believable. So read away.


From the Toronto Star, via the Sporting News:
Burns said a friend of his in the Florida highway patrol was among those who visited Woods' home the night of the crash. Burns worked with the police in Florida before coaching hockey, according to the newspaper.
After eating dinner that night, Woods was watching football while sending and receiving text messages from Rachel Uchitel, one of his alleged mistresses, Burns said. Later, Woods left his phone on the coffee table when he went to play poker at a friend's house. But Uchitel continued to text.
Here is Burns' account of what happened next:
"His wife (Elin Nordegren) saw the message. When he returned, around 11:30 p.m. or midnight, she waited at the door. She asked what it was, these messages, and who was this woman.
"He kept saying there was nothing there. He went to watch television. ... then suddenly, bang! A nine-iron in the face!
"He left the house running without shoes. Elin followed him with the club. He left in his Escalade. She followed him and broke two or three windows. That's why he hit the tree."
Doctors in the Orlando hospital Woods was taken to said he needed plastic surgery to repair the broken teeth, and that the facility best able to perform the operation was in Phoenix, Arizona. Woods was then transported to Phoenix.
This matches the account given by octogenarian sportswriter Furman Bisher on his blog two weeks ago, except that Bisher wrote that Elin also connected with his cheek bone. When police interviewed Woods on Dec. 1, they reported seeing him only with a "fat lip."
There's no earthly reason that Burns -- who won more than 500 games with four NHL teams over a 14-year career -- would come up with this out of the blue. If so it's the biggest non-sequiter in sports.
***Is Tiger Woods' absence attributable to broken teeth? [Sporting News]Ex-Leafs coach Burns says Tiger Woods had teeth knocked out [Toronto Star]View image



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