Brain Surgery and Public Toilets

I have to have brain surgery. Anyone who has questions about this can call or email me. Other than that I do not really feel like going in to it any further. Just know that if I am writing less than normal it is due to the lack of feeling in my fingers and very bad head aches.

I have noticed that I rarely get to use private restrooms. This thought was sudden and also very disturbing. I was going to the restroom at work when it hit me, you see our entire floor shares one restroom, and though the company I work for is half of the floor I do not know what their extracurricular activities involve. I get to work at 7:30 and leave at 5:30, then if I go out and about with The Sig or as a family with the little man in tow then we are always some place public. I waited in a 20 minute line last night after watching Benjamin Button. Or the gym…I hate the restroom at my gym…because you know not only has foreign butt been on that seat it has been sweaty foreign butt. So I have figured out that only about 10% of my bathroom time is spent in a private bathroom. That little factoid really unnerves me. Although I am not sure why, I know that it has probably been that way my entire life.

Speaking of The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, what an amazing movie. I can not wait for it to come out on dvd so I can own it. Oh, and how beautiful was New Orleans! My mother and sister went to see it and they told me they recognized houses that we had past when I took them on a walk around the Garden District. Seriously though, Brad Pitt was phenomenal bringing to life a character that could have been very unconvincing by most. The story itself wove in and out of age and time like a fine thread picked out of an amazing tapestry reminding us that life is what we make of it. I encourage anyone that has not seen it to do so!

Where is Wickkett?

So much has kept me away, a wrongful imprisonment in a mental institution of a family member, viral meningitis, and life in general. Sorry about that but life happens I suppose.

I hate the kids on the school bus. Oh, I am sure you think I am being harsh. Trust me, I’m not. The school buses now have assigned seating and my little man is forced to sit next to a older boy that hates him. I would be over reacting if it ended there. The older boy also continually tries and sometimes succeeds in getting my child in trouble. Why doesn’t this little heathen receive some kind of punishment for thi8s clearly unacceptable behavior…because he is the bus drivers cousin! The little man asked me “Mommy what does this mean?” and then he flipped me off. It turns out the older boy on the bus kept trying to get him to do that to the bus driver. Now the people out there who know me can tell you…my anger is scary. The Sig says that I just go nuclear, and he is right. It takes a great deal to make me angry these days, and even more then that to get me to go nuclear. I have become a very different person in this past year. That being said I must make a slight amendment to how my anger reacts when it comes to my child. I can go from bubbling to nuclear in 2 seconds flat, and it is only the thought of jail that keeps me from waiting around to talk to that bus driver and child. Like I said…I hate the kids of the bus.

Sad State

My head is infected. This is the final production of hurricane Gustav in my life. The infection became so bad that by Friday pus had began to seep from my piercing whole. Good times. The Sig is also infected, but his is a viral infection. He just could not understand why I got worse instead of better after my initial trip to the doctor well that is what happens when you disobey the doctors orders. So in the future when they tell me to rest you can bet I will not be running from the moment my feet hit the concrete. Although all of this rest is already making me a little nutty.

I was doing our weekly grocery shopping earlier (a task normally done by the whole family). It was strange walking through the aisle all by my onesies, sick and desperate to get out as quickly as possible. I found myself forgetting and remember a million little things and running back and forth with each one. I was all over that store in the least efficient shopping trip imaginable! Normally our grocery store is very mellow, a complete opposite of Wal-Mart. The food is a little higher but the quality is better, the stores are cleaner and less crowded, and the people are friendlier. Well, normally that is. On this excursion of inefficiency I noticed brats littering the store, screaming and pulling things off of the shelves, beeping horns, and demanding items and candy from their all to wishy-washy parents. It was everything that I could do to stop myself from picking these children up and using them to club their moronic paternal unit upside the head. For the life of me I will never understand why such a lazy society is so intent on breeding. Am I the only one that has noticed the connection between the people with the three to eight screaming kids and the people that want a hand out when ever possible? Parenthood is not easy, trust me, my son carries around a stuffed penguin that he dresses up like a doll and has lengthy conversations with, but if you put the work in then it is worth it. I am not embarrassed by my child, in fact I am generally all over very proud, and that does not mean that his attitude or demeanor were just handed to us. Oh lucky us, we have the worlds most well behaved perfect child at all times and we have done nothing…yeah RIGHT! I could fill a book with the things that my kid has attempted or managed to pull, and he is not even six. The book would be titled Five Years from Freedom and the highlight would be when he threw up in The Sig’s mouth. Ah, now THAT is parenthood, nothing easy there. But like anything else the outcome is what makes it all worth it. On the week ends we do our weekly shopping as a family, and I have never been embarrassed by my child’s behavior. Normally we end up in rather interesting discussions about the working of things, bugs, or the creation of the universe and evolution. I end the trip not in a daze, stressed, or ashamed, but laughing or at the very least smiling. I do not normally wander aimlessly through the aisle wanting to cry in confusion or pain either, but I blame the infection for that today. I also blame it for making me forget my tortillas.

Damn infection, I wanted those tortillas.

75% Stupid

I was driving with the Sig talking about the approaching hurricane when I made an off the hand comment on all of the fake storm windows on houses in our area. I always find it amusing when I notice something and then I can not unnoticed it. You would think that in the area that we live in the storm shutters would be real, like they were when plantations were here, but nooooo not the bright bulbs around here. Do they learn from history? Nope they just throw up some fake plywood shutters for decoration and bolt them down to the side of the house, you know, because that makes sense. After driving from my in laws house to my sons school I realized that about 75% of the houses have fake storm shutters and maybe two out of every hundred have real ones. Welcome to hurricane central home of the cheap and the stupid. My favorite though has to be the trailers with fake storm shutters…very intelligent.

Well, shutters aside we are pretty well prepared at our place for Gustav and Hanna, and no worries my friends. If it gets bad my little family is heading north. Until then it will be interesting.

Phenomenon

So there haven’t been any recent sightings of Elvis. I wonder what happened to him. It could just be me though, I can not remember the last time I glanced at a tabloid magazine in the line at the super market. That is how I kept my Elvis knowledge up to date after all. Still I was beginning to feel like the tabloids were letting me down a little, gone are the days of Elvis, alien children, and three headed chickens. Those great stories were replaced by more celebrity sleaze. How ever it could not be just the regular who slept with who, no it has to be over the top, since it is a tabloid after all. I feel slightly betrayed. Maybe that in itself is why I have not seen any Elvis news, maybe that is why I have not noticed the tabloids at all, it all just blends together these days. I did how ever see a magazine calling a actress over weight when she could have only weighed 130lbs at the most. It made me want to vomit.

Speaking of the wacky, has anyone else been as amused by this Bigfoot nonsense in the news as I have? The DNA evidence came back from the labs and apparently it belongs to a opossum. Not that much of a difference right? I mean anyone could confuse the two. Both live in the woods. Both are fuzzy. Hehehe, the autopsy results are still pending, and I can not wait. After all anyone that has followed my writing knows that out of all of the mythological creatures Bigfoot is the only one that really unnerves me. I think that the reasoning behind it is simple enough, we do not know enough about Bigfoot for me to feel confident enough on how to kill it should I need to. Vampires, mummies, zombies, I am all over those, Bigfoot…not so much. Maybe I should go and observe so opossums, I could collect some new data.

A Ticket to Hell has Never Been Funnier

If hell actually exists I am probably going there. I always use to joke around about going to hell, but I never put any stock behind it. On the whole I try to be a good person, and not just to the people around me but also to strangers. I do not do it for ‘good points’ or anything like that, I just do it because I want to do what I can to make the world a little better. Anyway, back to the subject of me going to hell… So I was cracking up over a very un-PC joke that The Sig made yesterday, and trust me when I say that though The Sig is not a racist or insensitive person with the way he jokes sometimes it would make you wonder. He’s kind of like Carlos Mencia, but as a white guy it doesn’t quite work out as well for him. He horrified a co-worker of mine once because I mentioned that midst joke he called me a ‘soggy-cracker’ personally I thought the term was hilarious and pretty original. I mean half Mexican half White, soggy-cracker, pretty clever, my co-worker didn’t think it was funny however. Like I said she was horrified, I had to explain that he had a very quirky sense of humor. However as I was tearing up with laughter yesterday I thought to myself about how many people would frown at us at that moment because they lacked senses of humor, and that made me come back to the question if a higher power exists can take a joke? I have always held a strong ‘yes’ to both of those, how ever I have to wonder. I think the strange whacked out beliefs I do have are falling under question yet again. I guess this is what you would call a crisis of faith, not religious, but definitely spiritual. I have felt this crisis threatening for about a month now, since that terrible accident on the eighth took a very important person from my life. Who knew that it would take The Sig and I laughing at the short bus to really bring it crashing down on me. Some people turn to religion in their times of trial, like my mom, she has gone completely ‘end of the world is upon us’ Christian. I have never been one of those people. I do not agree with organized religions at all, but I do have my own beliefs, and at the moment I find that they are all being called into question. Interesting I started this article today with the intention of writing about how I am probably going to be going to hell in a hand basket because the higher power does not have the sense of humor that I suppose, and I end up writing something about a crisis of faith. Hmmm…I think my soul might be a little to heavy for my own good.

Heart Broken

My dad died on the eighth of July. It was a very unexpected and tragic accident at work. I have been spending my time since then trying to take care of my family, particularly my mom and my son. Mom just had to have an emergency surgery, and thank the gods she is healing fast. This is the hardest thing I have ever gone through. My dad was supposed to grow old and crazy and eventually move in with us and drive me crazy with the ‘I told you so’ he should have rightfully delivered when my son became a teenager. This accident was not supposed to happen. I have not written anything because I have nothing to write. Sure life keeps going on, the world keeps turning, but for me I am still trying to find a way to focus on something besides breathing. I still have my sarcastic observations of life and since coming home I have been doing more things then I did before I went back to Arkansas, but I just can not find my spirit. It isn’t dead it just seems to be in retreat for the moment. So I haven’t been writing, but I’m sure that I will again as soon as I can muster the will to do so.

The Fourth

Being a parent is strange sometimes. You find yourself explaining things that you never really thought about explaining before. You know the things we all learn as children and never really put much thought behind who taught us about it since we have known it most of our lives. Well, guess who probably taught us about all of the information that we take for granted? Our parents. This morning while I was fixing breakfast for my son he was telling me about what we are going to do this weekend. While he is going on and on about fireworks and bar-b-ques I notice that he has not mentioned the reason for the celebration at all. So I asked him if he knew why the fourth of July is a holiday in our country. To my amusement he answered, “It’s a holiday this weekend? Wow!” I suppose that in itself not only answered my question but it also summed up the kind of life we give our son. Fireworks + Bar-b-que = Fun Weekend, it does not automatically mean Holiday. Anyway, I digress. So I started to explain to him how our country became a country and how we became a free people. He had some very good and direct questions and I was proud that he really seemed to be grasping the concept of independence. As I went to set his food on the table I noticed he was wearing a troubled expression and so I asked him what he was thinking of. A tip for all future parents…go ahead and ask, but trust me on this, you do not really want to know. The Little Man looked up at me and asked, “Mommy, what was it like working for the king of England?” I mentally cursed the innocence of youth and then explained that we were talking hundreds of years. His response, “Okay, I’ll ask Grandma!” I am sure she’s going to love that one. Happy upcoming Independence Day everyone!

Vivid

My dreams are way to vivid for my own good. What is worse though is that I have an over active imagination. Not like the previous Fish Truck story didn’t give me away on that little secret right? My dreams are also pretty easily influenced, when I’m just riding out the dream, by some event in my life. In last night’s case my dream was influence by this book that I am reading about body snatching aliens that have conquered the human race and the Resident Evil movies. So automatically you would think it is a nightmare, right? Nope. Not this little black duck. It was interesting, I’ll give it that, and definitely more entertaining then other dreams I have had lately but it was not a nightmare. The adrenaline was there, but not the terror. I swear I think there might be a short somewhere in my brain, I do not pause at zombies but the dream where I was abducted from my house and taken to a mall where manikins chased me makes me wake up in a sweat. Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight. Of course that whole dream made me pause with questions, the first, why the hell was I worried about manikins? They are easily broken and I was not that greatly outnumbered. Sure a whole army of zombies I’ll take on with a big crystal candy dish as a weapon, a few living dolls and I run like a track star. Seriously, they need to make help groups for people like me.

We went to see WALL-E last weekend and I can not praise it enough. It is Pixar’s best movie since Finding Nemo. The story is wonderfully heart warming and surprisingly powerful. The animation is not only good but remarkable, especially if you take in to consideration that the movie has no dialogue at all for about half of it and robots have limited facial expressions. That considered, someone deserves a freggin medal for developing characters emotionally binding enough that they almost had me crying. Very few movies have ever been able to make me cry. Seriously, VERY few. When I found myself tearing up over a animated robot I was impressed beyond words. If the tears had actually slipped over the edge I would probably go back and watch it again this weekend. My enjoyment aside though, my son adored it as well. WALL-E is the perfect movie for the entire family and I encourage everyone to go and see it in the theater. After that I am sure that you will choose to own it for yourself once it hits dvd. I know it will be on our shelf.

My Dog & The Library Police

My dog is a complete character, a perfect fit for my family. In other words she is a nuttball. I think she is enjoying this whole recover from surgery down time that I have going on a little too much. She seems to think that I need to be with her at all times though, lazy little thing that she is. If I am in our office for too long she comes to check on me, smiles her little toothy smile, wiggles her numb, and then departs to go back and nap on the couch. When I leave the house for a little while she loses it when I walk back through the door, hopping around on her hind legs, smiling, turning circles, and chirping like a bird. She has always been the happiest person in my family to see me when I come home, but I think she might be developing a few separation issues. I am going to feel guilty about this when I go back to work on the 7th. Poor little fuzz ball. She really is one of the best dogs we have ever had though. I think that is because she is more like a cat fat, lazy, and very indifferent. Now if I could only train her to use a litter box.

I am hooked on a new book series. No big shocker there. There is one slight problem to this little addiction, unfortunately. Since I had to have an emergency surgery out of the blue that has put me out of work for a month we are a tad low on book money. In other words I have already spent $50 on these books and I just can not justify spending another $50 before the week is over. Damn addictions. Why do all of mine have to get so pricey? I guess I just need to accept the facts that I really do live in this state and get a library card. I just keep telling myself, the library is my friend, the library is my friend, the library police are not real, the library is my friend. If I chant it enough in front of a mirror do you think it will make it true? I am so paranoid because I probably owe like $16 dollars to a library in my home town that I racked up when I was eleven. Amazing how the guilt of that has followed me through the years but so many other horrible things that I managed to do as a teenager have never bothered me. I wonder what that says about my psyche…hmmm… too much self evaluation. The library is my friend, the library is my friend, the library police are not real, the library is my friend.

Nutria Solution

Anyone who has ever spent an extended period of time in Louisiana knows about our Nutria problem. Imagine the biggest, fattest rat you had ever seen. Give that fat rat a stubby tail, no natural predators, and loose him in the swamps to be fruitful and multiply and you have yourself a Nutria. The government actually pays for the carcasses. One of the Sig’s uncles takes them up on this offer and often goes out and hunts them. This weirds me out a bit since he keeps one Nutria as a pet. The Nutria’s name is Newt, and my son just thinks he is the coolest thing since chicken mc’nuggets. The uncle in question, we think killed Newt's mother and then felt bad, but he found him as a baby so he took it home to raise it as his own. Newt is kind of like a cat except his favorite past time is spent playing in his fountain. He’s the safest freggin Nutria in the country, he even has his own vet! However, Newt a side, these little fuzz balls are becoming a real problem, and in exception to the price that has been put on their heads little else is being done. So I have come up with a solution! Chihuahuas. Yes that is right, Chihuahuas. Chihuahuas were originally bred as a form of hunting dog in Chihuahua. They know no fear, and believe it or not they can be pretty vicious when they want to be. Tinkerbelle has just given them all such a bad rap! Anyway, what we need to do is turn packs of Chihuahuas loose in the swaps to hunt the Nutria. Just imagine it, wild packs of Chihuahuas running loose in the swamps of Louisiana. We could even give them their own little nick name. Gator Snack Packs.

The Manipulation of a Child

I received a call from my mother-in-law last night she told me that the Little Man wanted to talk to me and then gave him the phone. Normally a phone call from my mother-in-law followed by the phone being handed to my offspring means that he has done something that he needs to have the fear of god put into him for. I did not realize that I was to become part of his stunt for the moment until long after our conversation had ended. He started to tell me about how he wanted to come home because he missed me. When I informed him that The Sig and I were not going to be home he asked if he could come with us. I told him no, we were doing adult things that he would not enjoy to celebrate our anniversary. He started to cry. I have never been able to stand it when he cries, it just feels like someone is choking a part of me. I was fortunate that The Sig walked in at that precise moment carrying a dozen roses, my favorite coffee, and a lovely card. I asked Little Man if he would like to speak with his father and he said he did, noticeably lacking any sign of tears in his voice. I gave the phone to The Sig and he spoke with our child for awhile inadvertently calming him down and finding the root of the real problem at the same time. Later at dinner he informed me of the real reason our son wanted to come home, he was trying to punish my in-laws. It turns out that he had wanted to spend the night at The Sig’s grandmothers house with his cousin but my mother-in-law told him no. She had good reason to say no, and I am glad she did, but our Little Man was very angry with her. In his anger he told her that he wanted to go home, so she called me. On the phone with me he proceeded to lie and manipulate in order to get his way and punish my mother-in-law. Little did he know things are not that easy in our family. My mother-in-law spoke with The Sig and gave him the whole back story which he in turn relayed to me over dinner. Naturally I am pissed. I will not tolerate my child acting like a spoiled brat, and his attempt to punish the adults around him is one of the most intolerable displays of arrogance that I have ever seen come out of him. It is going to be very sad when he comes home tonight only to have his butt busted, but maybe he will learn a lesson in there some where. Man, I didn’t think this BS would start until he was a teenager. Gods help me this probably means that he is going to take after me and be my reason for frustration in ten years. Why couldn’t he just take after The Sig? Damn Karma.

6 Years

The Significant Other and I have been married for six years today. They have been wonderful years. I am a very fortunate person. I married my best friend and we have managed to stay friends. After six years I would still rather hang out with The Sig then with anyone else. In fact the time that we have spent together has only proven to me that I do not just want him any more, I need him. It is strange to know that at one time I knew that I could and probably would stand alone fighting the good fights in my life, a one woman show on the road to who knows what type of mischief. Somewhere along that road I was side tracked by the most soulful eyes I had ever seen. Seven years after being side tracked, six of marriage, and I find myself unable to imagine standing alone. One set of soulful eyes led to another except they are accompanied with my nose and sense of eternal questioning and those eyes will be my life’s greatest accomplishment. Then again who doesn’t feel that way about their child. So why all of the happy remembering? I suppose it is shock, possibly awe, at how quickly the years pass. Soon I will be staring out from behind many wrinkles at some kind of celebration wondering how fifty years could go by in the blink of a eye. Live for today people, because it is our only definite, and the days go by so quickly.

So we watched ‘Lars and the Real Girl’ last night. Talk about a surprisingly touching movie. I just thought it was going to be some off the wall comedy, but it was so much more. The character development of all of the characters involved, including the doll, lacked for nothing. It also made me realize that my friends are not as understanding as Lars’ friends. If I started dating a doll I guarantee you that most of the people I know would quit hanging out with me because I had gone weird. Not like I’m normal now but I don’t think I have dipped far enough into the pool of wackiness to start having delusions, well not severe delusions at least. I have to give props to Ryan Gosling, who plays the character Lars, his portrayal of a man going through mental illness and emotional trauma is very convincing. He made me care about Lars, and about what he was going through. Way to go, I’m not really the touchy feely emotional type.

I am listening to my play list on random at the moment. Does anyone know how odd it is to have Luciano Pavaroti followed immediately by Sixx AM and then by Alan Jackson? It messes with you. Although speaking of Sixx AM, I think they are one of my new favorites. Most people that know me know about my admiration and strange love for Nikki Sixx, so they no doubt are not shocked at that revelation. However Nikki Sixx aside they would still be one of my new favorites the music is powerful, original, and haunting. Their music is meant to be accompanied with the book ‘Heroin Dairies’ and if you experience both of them then you will appreciate the spiral and descent of addiction in a disturbingly new light.
Luciano Pavaroti is one of my old favorites. However the magnitude of any opera is multiplied by a live performance compared to a recording.
Alan Jackson just got lucky.

Back to Myself Again

Since November of last year I have been sick. At first they thought it was just my gallbladder, but during the removal surgery they discovered that I had a very rare ‘reproductive disease’. A few months later after no response from treatment they discovered that I had more then one. A few months after that and there was still no response from the most severe treatments other than a very adverse reaction. It wasn’t long before I could do little more then work and sleep, the very act of living was taking all of my energy and hope. Soon I found myself in and out of the hospital, each time pleading with a little more desperation for help. On the fourth I was admitted to the hospital one last time. On the sixth I woke up after surgery and felt less pain then I have in months. It finally came down to an emergency hysterectomy. It is a very strange feeling to wake up and realize that you have been sleep walking through your life for over half a year. All of the pain medicines are gone, I ditched those two days after the surgery. The pain of healing is so much less and so very different from the pain of disease that I felt that they were unnecessary. My boundless energy is returning, driving me out of my head because the desire is there to go out and do so many things but the ability has not returned yet. The healing process is a bit too slow for my taste. I feel like I haven’t been living for the last seven months, so adding another month and a half of healing time on to it is like twisting the knife in the proverbial wound. Everyone who knows me claims that I am myself again, no one is quite sure who I was before but apparently it was someone that caused great alarm. It unnerves me to know that I worried my loved ones so deeply, especially The Sig. He told me last night that the energy that had been flowing out of me was tinted like a poison. Poor guy was terrified about what was happening to me but kept a good face trying to remain strong. I have always been a pretty strong force to reckon with so it is strange to hear others talking about trying to be strong for me. I can not lie though and say that I held my head up easily through out the whole ordeal, there was one point where they thought that I had cancer, the day I went in to get those test results was one of the most frightening moments of my life. I was tired from the sheer act of existing and I was scared about what cancer would put everyone else in my life through. Dark times the past few months, but the long night is at a end and I can see the light shining at the edge of the horizon. I am myself again. I have caught myself looking at near by bike trails, kayak runs, hypostasizing about possible connections between uncorrelated dead civilizations, writing, and reading again since the surgery. I can not tell you the last time I was able to do those things uninterrupted or with a clear mind. I know that I am well known to take breaks in my writing that are worth months of silence. I also know that my writing has been few and far between this year. I wanted to explain to you why I had little to write about. If I am going to bring up a depressing subject then I would rather be on the sidelines throwing my sarcasm out at the world in retaliation for the one being injured, I do not like being the depressing subject itself.

On to other topics.

I am buying a new car. My little Dodge Neon just isn’t meeting our expectations these days. I think The Sig and I have settled on a 2008 Honda Civic Hybrid. We drive so much in a week with our commute to work that it just made sense to us to purchase a hybrid and we have a deeply unshakable loyalty to Honda. Considering the loyalty our current Honda Civic has given to us it is the least we can do. After the car I think The Sig is going to try to talk me into a boat. My premonition comes from the boat talk that he is already trying to slip into the conversation as we drive down the road. But then again he is also slipping in motorcycle talk into the conversations as well. There isn’t a ounce of my being that doesn’t enjoy that man’s unshakable thrill of adventure. He definitely keeps me as entertained as I keep him.

Alarming Fish

The Little Man asked me why we didn’t have a fancy alarm on our house the other day, and I told him we did. Very confused he tried to tell me that we did not. I told him yet again, very matter of factly, that yes we did. Finally he asked me what I meant. I told him our alarm was named Boo-Boo and she serves the purpose very well. I then had to explain further. Finally he agreed that she is a pretty good little alarm and the matter was put to rest. The matter was re-visited the next day while I was at work. The Sig called me and I could hear Boo in the back ground barking her little head off. Apparently some one was mowing their yard and she did not agree, but my Little Man walks by The Sig’s office pokes his head in and tells him very nonchalantly, “The alarm is going off.” The Sig and I were very amused. The kid is a mess.

So, I have seen quite a few unmarked ‘fish’ trucks all over the are lately. What exactly is a unmarked ‘fish’ truck, you might ask. Well dear reader that is a fabulous question. As far as I can tell a ‘fish’ truck is a large white truck of moving van size or larger with no markings on it what so ever a side from the word ‘fish’ printed in blue in small italics on the back. And naturally since I am so morbid the first thing that comes into my mind is one question…I wonder if there are dead bodies in that truck. I am not sure where I think the bodies are coming from, upon further review I think well, maybe they would be bodies in hidden storage from Katrina (and don’t think that it is not possible and still happening) or maybe it has something to do with the mob. That always brings the thoughts of one criminal or official saying, “No boss, I have the perfect idea. See we move it in a truck that says ‘fish’ on the back. No one will question that! It can’t go wrong.” By the time I make it to the destination my imagination has become the out of control train that has led my own body to the back of one of the ‘fish’ trucks due to my snooping questions. I don’t like those trucks, they’re beginning to really screw with my head.

Please Do Not Urinate on the Seat

Alright, we all know that I am not the delicate type. I am brass, straight forward, blunt, and extremely sarcastic. At work my sarcasm spills over into the halls like the rain flooding my front yard right now. But I will tolerate quite a bit before I just say screw it and draw the line in the sand. The perfect example of my point would be the bathrooms at work. I work in a very nice building with very nice bathrooms, well they were nice until the phantom pee-er came along and then before I know it there is pee every where. Yes, every where. Well, I have been working late quite regularly these days and the last thing I do before getting in to my car is stop off in the bathrooms and when I am tired from a long day of work I am not focused on looking for pee on a every surface. This scenario managed to play out twice before I hung signs clearly visible in every area of our bathroom. The signs are polite and yet too the point "Do Not Urinate on the Seats." (And I should have thrown in 'or on anything else' but it was a moot point.) The signs, though they caused a small scandal with the mystery over who hung them, seemed to work for a few weeks. A few weeks, but a few weeks is not forever. That was the line in the sand people, and the phantom pee-er has crossed it. Soon the signs are going to be changed, soon the signs are going to get mean, and soon I will be arrested for hanging out in the bathroom trying to catch said phantom in the act. This does not bode well. I know you will be waiting in anticipation to see how this goes.

The Least You Could Do

One of my dearest and oldest friends told me the other day that he is going to be getting married soon. I couldn’t be happier for him, if anyone I know deserves a happy marriage he does, but as most news does it made me reflect on some things. I started thinking about all of my friends and ex-lovers that are now married or about to be married and though I am insanely happy for all of them I couldn’t help but feel a little put off. No one could join some form of religious order requiring them to marry a god and live a life of celibacy secretly pining away for me for the rest of their lives? I mean, come on, my ego could have used that! When ever I ended a relationship they were destroyed, though of course we would either stay friends or try to pick the friendship up again over the years. As friends even though I gave little thought to it, I would watch or even help them move on becoming a stronger person with out my over powering influence exuding that much control over their lives. I am still extremely close with quite a few of these people, and I am very happy for them that they have moved on to lead a happier life. Still, some one could have gone off and lived a life of religious celibacy because I was too difficult to forget. I guess in a way we all want to be the one that is unforgettable, irreplaceable, even if we have moved on to a better happier lives ourselves.

In other news I am going to the opera tonight with a buisness associate. I am thrilled, to see Puccini sung live in Italian is an unforgettable sight.

Now it is off to the gym. Before that though, I tried a new product this morning that I have to say is absolutely amazing. It is called Soyrizo it tastes just like Chorizo except it is about 100 times less likely to give you a heart attack over years of use. Just had to share. Ta.

Uncomfortable Silences

Am I the only person that hates elevators? I think that they might be designed as a type of torture devise. I work on the thirteenth floor of the second largest building in New Orleans, this roughly translates in to riding in a elevator at least twice a day. Standing there with a group of people refusing to talk to each other, or look at each other, unless of course you get stuck in the elevator with that one creepy guy. You know the one I'm talking about, the guy with no understanding of personal space who will intentionally turn away from the door and stare at you, breath mint close, creepy. Or you could just get stuck with one person, both of you appraising the other and wondering if you are being judged. Then there is always the standing rule about getting off of your cell phone when you step in to an elevator that always makes me wonder, who comes up with these rules? Is there a book somewhere I should know about? It also makes me want to start really screwing with people, you know take a step closer to them with every floor that passes and when we are breath mint close say 'Hello.' You know, something like that. Give a knew definition to reaching out and touching someone. Poke them and say 'Tag you're it!' It only makes sense that if we are going to uncomfortable we might as well have a reason. My new goal...make the day a little stranger for the people in the elevator with me. Oh, and let's not even approach the subject of passing gas in the elevator.

I had a strange dream the other night about an old friend of mine that fell by the way side over the years. We had issues, things that just build up over time left unmentioned due to the others insecurities. Things that with time are just unacceptable to the other person about their friends character. In short it was what happens when you are unable to tell your friend that they are acting like a jackass because they take themselves too seriously. It is a shame too because no matter what I will always love her crazy ass, despite the bitterness. Still, I had this dream the other night that she and her husband were going through a horrible divorce and she was upset and needed help. When I woke up I was disturbed and wanted to call her to make sure she was alright. It was in that moment that I realized that despite our falling out I missed her. Sure there have been times where I would hear things or see things that brought up her memory and know she was happy or upset by them, but it was different. For example the Oscars tonight being hosted by Jon Stewart will have her on cloud nine, or the fact that there has been a clothing line based off of David Bowie might actually convince her to go shopping. These thoughts aside the other day was the first time that I actually felt concern for her well being, or her husbands, in a few years. After coming to terms with this renewed, or just re-realized emotions, I do hope they are alright where ever they are. I hope they are healthy, happy, and I hope they are better now then when we parted ways. I guess given enough time even my bitterness can begin to fade.

Music From the 90's

Let's see... a little update since it has been so horribly long since I posted. The Sig and I went on vacation at the end of December beginning of January which was nice but would have been nicer if I hadn't been so ill. Why was I ill? Because my gallbladder went bad. This is the short of things led to surgery on the Thursday before last. Obviously I am doing much better.

I was going through my closet the other day (apparently I do things like that when recovery from surgery, I don't know why I just do them) and I turned on one of the satellite radio stations that I probably do not use as much as I should. I found a 90's station and changed it approprietly to the music I listened to in highschool and still enjoy a great deal. I expected Nirvana, Pearl Jam, STP, Smashing Pumpkins, and all of the other great bands that started the grunge movement that defines my generation. I was shocked to get on Foo Fighters song and nothing else but a bunch of songs that conjured up many forgotten memories of my changing the radio station in my car cursing at the gods of music for allowing "Hit me Baby one More Time" to find its way to my ears. I was amazed at how many crappy songs rolled across before I finally changed the channel. It was the Spice Girls "If You Want to Be My Lover" that finally broke the camels back (thinking about that I'm comparing myself to a camel and I don't think I like it) that was the last straw (that's better)the sassy british vocals brought with it a memory of driving with my old highscool chum aptly tilted 'Little Gay David' in a VW Beattle and he singing that song as loud as he could while tearing up the California highways. I must have been pretty loaded at the time since I am pretty sure I was singing it too. By the way has anyone else ever realized that they were behaving far more zesty than they normally would while with a smaller peppy-er person? Anyway, I digress, so there I am sitting on my bed holding a shirt having a very vivid flashback of my youth that probably could have remained a memory long buried only to reappear in regression sessions of therapy that will probably be brought on at my 45th birthday when I fully intend to have a mental breakdown at the realization that my youth has passed me by. Until then I will just stay away from the spice girls and 90's music stations.

On a similar note, I ran down the street the other day to buy a smoothie. I suppose it was my own fault for going around 3:30, but given I never really think about school hours since like most dregs I'm normally at work. Anyway I find myself waiting for my smoothie surrounded by teenagers, as any adult knows this is generally an annoyance, and as any teenager knows they are rebelling against the man which all adults symbolize and since they had the numbers the adults were the true annoyance and unwanted invaders of their space. As I climbed into the Honda the Sig turned to me and said "Do you realize there were kids in there that can drive that were born in the 90's?" It would have almost have been as commical if the Sig had said "Hey look over there!" and punched me in the face. So in return I turned to the Sig and said "Do you realize our child is growing up in a world where Kurt Cobain is dead?" I probably shouldn't have said that, I didn't like the way he went all white in the face. Ah well, the world keeps turning.