Happy Halloween

Well... the scariest holiday of them all are upon us, and it is time to cozy up in front of a good horror movie-fest for the night. Now if only the girl to the left here was with me to enjoy the festivities. Maybe she'll come trick or treating...

I had hoped to have time to write a decent horror story for you guys to read, but having been swamped with work, and the usual lack of sleep disabling my writing capabilities has forced me to decide against writing some original fiction. I hope to do that once in a while in my blogging, and it is likely it would be horror, because that's what I thrive upon.

Instead... I will try to tell you a true story. A true story that scared the heck out of my neighbor, and is fitting for today although it didn't occur on Halloween eve. It happened on my birthday...

I was celebrating my 14th (or thereabouts) birthday with my friends. It was before beer was the beverage of choice, and we still thought lemonade, birthday cake and cookies were the coolest things in the world. I had about 6-7 friends over, and then my mother takes me aside and asks me why I hadn't invited my neighbor from downstairs. This neighbor was one of my better friends, and we hung out quite often, so even I was a little surprised I had forgotten to invite the poor guy... maybe it had to do something with the fact he was a year younger than us... isn't it funny how age matters that much when your that age?

Anyway... I thought I had to get him up to our apartment so he could join the fun... or maybe we could pull a prank on him?

Yes! That way the other guys wouldn't mind him coming over.

I was always a horror buff. From the day I was hiding under the coffee table watching some black and white Dracula movie one late night when I was allowed to stay up. I remember that wonderful feeling of being afraid... while you could somehow feel safe knowing it wasn't real... no it is not real. But... it could be, couldn't it?

So, that's how I came up with the idea. We were going to invite him up for a seance. Together with my other friends we prepped for the scares in my room, using my mother's sewing threads to tie invisible lines between our hands and different objects in my room that we knew would make strange noices.

I then go downstairs and ring on the doorbell.

"Hey, Neighbor. Got a minute?". He didn't know it was my birthday.

"Yeah. Why?"

"See... me and some guys are going to try this thing I read in a magazine. It's a seance to bring ghosts into this world."

He giggles nervously. "Yeah, right!"

I'm playing my cards here. I need to convince him.

"I know", and I laugh a little. "It's stupid... of course nothing's gonna happen. But, it could be fun."

"Ok", he says, and the poor soul didn't know he was about to have the scariest day of his life.

We go upstairs, and I direct him into my room, closing the door behind us. My mother is in the kitchen, smoking a cigarette... she too knows about our plans.

The room is dark, and in the center of it we have lit a few candles organized in a circle. I had some centerpiece, but I cannot recall what it was... it was something I meant to represent the supernatural... like a five-pointed star or something. The darkness is designed not only to create the mood, but to hide the sewing threads that are a plenty.

I seat him in his designated place, and then I sit down. I am the mastermind of tonights events... of course - it is my birthday.

"Ok. Listen up guys". I'm trying to sound all serious and a little nervous. I'm doing a good job of it too. "According to that article I read we must stay very very calm at all times. And be quiet... because if we upset the ghosts they can become angry... and then things might become very dangerous. As long as we stay calm and quiet... the ghosts won't hurt us, ok?"

There are some mumbles heard as the other's agree to follow the rules. I already begin to notice that my neighbor is very nervous about what we are about to do.

"Ok... I'm going to read the cantations now. No laughing, guys. I don't think the ghosts will come if we're laughing. This is dead serious now".

And, so I begin rambling some mumbo jumbo - words that are supposed to sound latin or some crazy shit like that. As I do this I'm thinking; There's no way in hell he's going to buy this crap.

But, I was wrong.

While I was continuing my ramblings, I began tearing up some poster on my wall... using the thread I had assigned myself. It was the easiest one to do without him noticing any suspicious hand-movement on my side, as I knew I'd be the one he was keeping his eye on.

"D'you hear that?", he whispers quitely. Trembling voice already. I stop reading my cantations.

"What?", I whisper back, having stopped tearing that poster on the wall. Everything is quiet.

"Ok... nothing".

I begin my quiet chanting again. And I begin tearing my poster again, slowly. I see him looking left and right trying to figure out what that sound is. He is obviously getting nervous now. So... I rip the poster clean off the wall...

"Holy shit, guys! Did you hear that?", he's beginning to speak loudly. I try to calm him down.

"Quiet... they're here now. It works."

"I'm scared... I don't like this. We should stop."

"No... this is awesome. Remember... just stay calm."

At this point, one of my friends have lost patience. I would have thought he would ruin it, as I wanted to build the suspense before we started making any serious noice. A pile of cassette tapes (those were used back in those days) suddenly came off a bookshelf next to my poor neighbor and went crashing to the floor right by his feet.

And... he completely lost his cool. Let me start by explaining to you that I will name my mother Rita for the purposes of blogging from now on.

"Riiiiiiiiiiitttaaaaaaaaa!!!!". He screams for my mother, jumps out of his chair and rushes for the door. In his panic, he somehow (and this is the part that I still don't understand) cannot open the door - which I had never thought to lock. "Let me oooouuuuut!"

I jump after him. Grab a good hold of him and try to calm him down.

"Remember! Don't panic man. If we're calm, nothing will happen. So calm down!"

Unbelievably... he agrees to sit back in his chair. Before I return to my seat, I let the evil in me decide that I should lock the door in case he tries to escape again.

Half a minute later, my neighbor is breathing heavily and irregularily. He is scared shitless, no doubt. Then, a pile of books... heavy books come flying across the room.

The panic that followed is something I doubt I will ever see the likes of ever again. How my door didn't just leave a hole in his shape as he crashed into it, I don't know.

Again.... much louder this time.

"RIIIIIIITTTTAAAAAAA!!!!".

WHAM!

He's crashed into the door. Pounding his fists against it. This is a matter of survival. Again I rush after him, trying to calm him down.

He does not hear a single word I'm saying. He's just screaming for my mother to let him out of this room. He just knows he is going to die... right here, right now. Even I can't let him suffer any more.

I switch the lights on... and I cannot help but start laughing when I get a good look at that panic stricken face as he turns towards me in disbelief. We all start laughing... except for my neighbor who starts crying. I think mostly because he was relieved, realizing it was all a hoax.

I'm not kidding you when I tell you it took him over an hour to stop shaking... but I was good to him afterwards and offered him lemonade, birthday cake and cookies.

And... about my mother. I think I know where I got my evil streak from. She admitted afterwards that she was in the kitchen laughing her socks off listening to him screaming her name and pounding on the door.

Renteria Traded / WWC Debut

Well, things are already beginning to happen with the Braves preparing for next season. I'm not too sure about what they did today though...

Edgar Renteria was traded to Detroit for a couple of virtually unknown players (at least unknown to me). I mean, I expected Renteria to leave the club during the off-season. Partly because of the success and maturity shown by exciting prospect Yunel Escobar, who was handling the short-stop position very well in the absence of Edgar. Escobar hit the ball well, fielded the ball with great success and apparently had improved his off-field behaviour quite a lot. Escobar will be ready to man short-stop next season, I am confident of that.

But... I really expected the Braves to trade him for some other great player... either a starting pitcher or a new center fielder to make up for the departure of Andruw Jones.

Well... the two young prospects acquired look like good investment for the future, so if the Braves decide to utilize the cut-down on wages to bring back Tom Glavine in our starting rotation and someone of Torii Hunter's stature on the free agent market to play center-field, then I'm all for the deal. Though... any interest in Torii has been denied by the Braves. Does look very much now that Glavine will return though, and that will be exciting enough.

Well... that'll be it for today. Some baseball thoughts.

Oh, wait!

That's right... I present to you my first ever participation in the WWC (Weekly Words Challenge). Couldn't get the pictures I wanted today, so I had to put these to together hastily and without much thought... I'll improve my contributions in the future...

These are the tools I use to CREATE my next movie script.

**********

This trophy INSPIREd my team's road to victory in our first baseball tournament

Cousins, Beer and Carefree Making Out

It all started out innocently enough... my cousin Ellie's* 30th birthday party. Some of her friends and of course the family all gathered together in a house somewhere in the middle of nowhere... far from the city.

There was food, coffee and the traditional birthday cake, and talk was mild and pleasant. We had some fun and games as well, drawing portraits of one another using our left hand (right hand, if you were left-handed). The one on the left here is of me, drawn by my other cousin Deena, thank you very much. Never knew I looked that much alike Edvard Munch's "The Scream". Maybe she's clairvoyant though, because I'm pretty sure I looked very much like that before the night came to an end...

We have a close family. But, since we don't live in the same city, I don't really see them except for when we have those family get togethers. On those occasions, one rarely notices how they act and behave among friends. Since we don't drink alcohol when we meet (partly because my grandparents never approved of such behaviour, partly because of a history of alcoholism in our family) we haven't often seen that side of one another.

Now, I've partied with my cousins before... Ellie, Deena and Annie on occasion, quite often with cousin Andy who grew up close by me... first time I ever had a beer, he was there too... what a night that was! But, my youngest cousin Aimee... I don't believe I had quite figured it out until recently that she is no longer a little child. Somewhere along the line she's turned 19, and has become quite an attractive young lady.

Well... anyway. Family leaves at 6 PM. Friends arrive at the same time, and coffee and birthday cakes are replaced with bottles of beer, whiskey and vodka. Food becomes bowls of chips and the like. Mild and pleasant chatting is replaced with loud music and deafening laughter and talking.

Party time!

When I drink... I usually start slowly, and as the night progresses my drinking speed escalates. I think it's only an hour into the evening that I'm sitting at a table noticing my youngest cousin (19 years of age, I remind you) with a can of beer held firmly in her hand. I try to understand when and how she grew up so fast... she notices me looking.

"Now, that's something I'm not getting used to any time soon", I tell her, letting my eyes fall down to the can of beer she's holding.

She looks at the beer, takes a mouthful, and laughs it off.

"I'm not a kid anymore", she replies.

"Yes, you are. If you weren't I'd be old", I say.

Thankfully, she does not comment on my age. Lately, I've gotten to the point where I am not comfortable about what my birth-certificate has down as my birth year. I'm still in my early 20's dammit! I'm single... no kids... I must surely still be in my early twenties.

Less than an hour after that I start noticing guys hitting on her. Hold it right there, mister! That's my cousin you're slobbering all over. Birthday girl Ellie notices the same... the two are sisters, but live some distance apart so she's not really used to adulthood Aimee either... she's never seen this side of her sister before.

I start looking for my gloves... my metal studded gloves. Touch her, dammit, and I'll start swinging. You better believe it.

Yet another hour later, I'm starting to be quite intoxicated myself. The half hour to forty-five minutes it took to down a can of beer earlier is now reduced to 15-20 minutes per can. And Aimee is on the couch making out with some 27 year old dude.

Now... I'm an adult, and I can do whatever I damned well please... so just because I'm in love with a girl 10+ years my junior, does not mean she can fool around with some guy older than her... guys like that want to do things she must never, ever indulge in... I cannot even bring myself to writing it down.

"Maybe I should go out there and pry him loose from her lips", I say to the people around me.

"Nah, he's a good enough guy. The other one would've been bad for her though", one of Ellie's friends tell me - one who knows this guy. Another guy had tried to get it on with her earlier that night, but I guess she can tell the jerks from the good ones after all. He was mercifully given the cold shoulder.

I step outside for some fresh air. Of course I can't do anything about the situation I've been witnessing. Cousin Ellie's best friend is outside smoking a cigarette (I don't smoke myself, just went out to breathe some cold air). I have my jacket on, because even after all that beer I can feel the cold outside.

"Isn't that jacket a little big on you?", she notices.

I bought the jacket last winter, paid good money for it too, and now that I lost all that weight... it doesn't fit very well. To hell with it, I can't afford to buy a new jacket every winter... I'll wear it.

"Shit... I think I am a little drunk tonight". She never waits for my response about my over-sized jacket. "I think I need some random, carefree making out". That's how she put it... not my words.

My cousin comes out at that, and starts talking to her. I'm thinking I could use some of the same as she mentioned. Later... that happens.

I'm in the kitchen, jacket still on, and again that jacket comment resurfaces. Now, I'm really drunk and I have a response.

"Yeah, it's big. It's so I can fit you inside of it as well". I open it up, arms outstretched in a welcoming manner. She comes close, wraps her arms around me... and believe it or not, but the jacket reaches around the both of us, and I can even get the zipper closed a little. Not much, maybe an inch. We're very close now, face to face... so I move in for the kill. I'm looking to cash in on some of that random, carefree making out she wanted.

Why choose my cousin's best friend? I mean, really. I have no interest in this girl... I don't even find her very attractive. I don't really like the fact that the few times I've seen her she's been a little too wasted to present herself in a decent manner. But, she was there - ready and willing, and I needed someone/anyone to take my mind off The One for a while.

I felt sorry for cousin Ellie, because now she not only had to worry about her young sister making out with some guy... now I was foolin' around with her best friend as well - right in front of her. It wouldn't matter, except for the fact she knows about me being in love with someone else... so surely she understood that my intentions with her friend were less than noble.

I spoke to Ellie the morning after, and initiated the discussion about Aimee and that guy she was with. Can you believe it?

"Who's talking", she says. "What about you and my best friend? Care to comment on that?". She's not angry... just busting my balls about it.

All in all... it was a great party, well worthy of the terrible hang-over I suffered yesterday. There were girls, lots of beer, good music, broken glass windows**, and many laughs.

I remember another strange conversation that took place in the kitchen (for some reason I found myself hanging out in the kitchen most of the night). Another of Ellie's friends were on the phone with some friend of hers who lives in the same city as I.

"You gotta meet this guy... Yeah, you'd like him. He reminds me a lot of Benny". Laughter. "He's got that same sick sense of humor. He's really goofy".

"Hey...", I'm trying to get her attention. "I'm not goofy".

She looks over to me. Then speaks to the phone.

"He's standing here next to me. 'I'm not goofy', he says". There's more laughter.

"She hot?", I ask pointing my finger at the phone. "How old?"

"He wants to know if you're hot". I'm still being ignored in their conversation. But it's about me, and they're laughing.

"She's a bartender over at This Place. She's 25".

That's the first thing I'm being let in on. And, that's all I need. This Place is one of the most popular spots in the city I live, and I am yet to see a female bartender at that place who isn't above average looking.

"Give me the phone", I say reaching for it.

"Do you wanna talk to him?". She nods, and hands me the phone. I take it.

"Hi there, good looking. Why aren't you here with me?", I speak into the phone. Mind you... I have absolutely no idea who I'm talking to here.

"I don't know", she laughs.

"So, what you been up to tonight?", I ask.

"Been at This Place with some friends. Not working tonight, and I got bored. I'm on my way home now".

It was only 11:30ish at the time. Sounds like a responsible good girl to me, going home to bed early on a Saturday night.

"Wish I could join you... We should get together some time".

Again she's laughing. "Maybe we should".

"I'll have your friend here set it up for us".

Her friend is still listening in, having a good laugh herself.

"Ok... I'll give her back to you now. You go get yourself a good nights sleep, and dream about me ok?".

"Yes, I will. I'll dream sweet dreams about you".

I hand the phone back to her friend... and resume to randomly, carefreely make out with my cousins best friend.

We'll see if that getting together will ever materialize... it could be fun.

* Names used in this story are not their rightful names. But, if I blog about them again in the future, these are the names I'll be using.

**The broken window was the result of two guys showing off how strong they were, pushing each other back and forth, during which one of the guys went through the window... it was that kind of party. No injuries though... but some cleaning up to do. And bills to pay, seeing as the place was rented.

--------------------------

So, the Red Sox are World Champions. Congratulations.

I was trying to watch the deciding game last night, but being hung over made me sleep through most of it. I woke up in time to see Atkins' 2-run homer which made things interesting in the bottom 8th.

Next time I opened my eyes, celebrations were on-going. I had fallen asleep again, missing that moment when the game ends and the players go crazy... That moment I love to see.

Oh, well. Next year I'll be fully awake as the Braves are going to win it. Yes, they are!

Funday Sunday: "La Linea"

When I was a kid, this was by far my favorite cartoon. La Linea is (I think) some Italian comic about this guy who walks along a line, finding different things to do on the way. His rather schizophrenic behaviour was something I could really relate to. No wonder my mother used to call me "La Linea". That always got me upset, though, and she would laugh it off teasing me about it... maybe it scarred me for life? :)

I leave you with this clip for today, because I am way too hung over to write anything else funny on this Funday Sunday.

Tomorrow, maybe I'll tell you a little bit about my rather wild Saturday night at my cousins 30th birthday party.

Take care, everyone!

Pecs like these...

Ok... I am not about to come out of the closet or anything here - I am not gay. I'm just trying to make a statement.

Finally did bring my ass to the gym today, and maybe today wasn't the best day to do it. Not if a guy wants to have any kind of self esteem left in him when he leaves the place.

Today... every single guy there looked like the one on the left here. And, I hate to admit it, but I sure do not possess a body like this guy does. Not even close!

Do you know how much fun it is to go to the gym with a non-buff body only to be surrounded by these guys? Having to take off half the weight on the machines before you start using them... only to have one of these guys wait for you to finish, so he can put all that heavy weight back on. It sure has a way of making you feel very, very insignificant.

They always show up in groups as well. Laughing and joking around between the huffin' and puffin'. And, there I am all alone - trying to one day look just like them... as if that is ever going to happen.

Then... there is this one hot chick in there as well. She too is there all alone, and she has a perfect body as well... not muscular at all, but perfectly feminine and perfectly trimmed. Of course, these guys are flirting with her, and she smiles back at them constantly. Talks to them, and giggles at their stupid jokes (believe me... their jokes are stupid).

Now, if a guy like me walks up to a girl like that, saying the sweetest thing or telling the funniest joke there ever was... her reaction would be very different indeed.

"Yeah, sure... not gonna happen, ok!", and she would go on about her business ignoring my presence completely.

This is nothing new to any one of us. We all know this is how our society works, and it's the way it has always been. But, maybe I'm a better man than any one of those steroid pumped imbeciles? I mean... how does one go about making a woman look beyond the exterior self, and look at what I have to offer as a human being?

Do I really need abs like these?

Pecs like these?

And biceps like these?

To land me a babe like these?

From top to bottom; Kate Hudson, Hayden Pannettiere, Shakira

Guess I'll keep going to the gym, and see what happens.

The gym? Or Ben & Jerry's?

All day today, I intended to go to the gym for a workout session in the evening. I haven't been going as often as I want to go lately, but today I was going for sure.

Then, finally, I get an answer from The One... after I had taken a wild stab in the dark and sent her the message I meant to go work out in the evening.

'I WANNA GO TOO', she texts me back.

Yesterday's massive error on my behalf may not have had as bad of an impact as I originally thought. Either that or she wants to see me so she can tell me to go to hell, and stay there for as long as she lives.

Well, we agree to meet up at the gym at around 7:15 PM. My mood has improved significantly knowing I would see her, so I could rectify my erroneous behaviour.

I park my car outside the gym at exactly 7:15, and as I check my cellphone I see I've gotten a message. I play music really loud when I drive my car, so I don't ever hear the ringing. I must be numb too, because when I'm in the car it doesn't help to turn vibrate on (you know, the thing they invented so girls would have an interest in a mechanical gadget, when cellphones were new - little did we expect us guys would enjoy it equally much).

'WANNA GET SOME ICE CREAM INSTEAD?' It reads.

I was going to text her back, but she rang me up before I sent it to her.

"I'm really tired today... don't know if I can work out."

"So... you want me to come over for ice cream, instead of going to the gym?", I ask.

"You can work out if you want... or we could get some Ben & Jerry's". She's got the hots for Ben & Jerry's. The look on her face when she gets a mouthful of 'Chocolate Fudge Brownie' is the most adorable thing in the world.

So... there I am. Parked outside the gym - where I had planned to be all day come this time. But, with yesterday on my mind, and her sounding all sweet on the phone, what could I possibly do?

Well, of course, Mr. I'llDoAnythingForTheWomanILove, hops back in the car and drives over to her place. We go buy ice cream, and end up watching TV in her couch... munching away on Ben & Jerry's and some chocolate covered Oreo's... it's a sacrilege. Health versus Slouch, and evil is the victor.

It was enjoyable though, and neither one of us mentioned yesterday. I figured that if she for some reason hadn't noticed my behaviour... why tell her I'd reacted so strongly?

She kind of teases me... you know. Little things. Not sexual, if that's what you're thinking, because if they were I would have jumped on top of her right then and there, dealing with the consequenses of my actions later. No, she kind of teases me with little jokes that are slightly mean - like, the fact I can't dance (we did - or attempted to do - some dancing there as she talked about her dance classes).

"You will never learn to do that", and she crashes back on the couch, looking away with a distant gaze.

She may be testing me in some way, or she may say these things for any number of other reasons... but there is definitely something going on. I just wish I could figure it out for sure.

Mostly, tonight was nice and cozy. And I'm back to square one - I have no idea where I stand with this woman. But, if I am to believe what she's told me outright - we are friends. Nothing more.

Fine. I'll be her friend... I'll be the best friend she's ever had, and maybe some day she'll come around.

Oh, My... I'm such an idiot!

Ok. I think it's official. If not, I'm making it so. Right here, right now. I am a complete moron...

So, she calls me today. The One. I had decided on not calling her first, so as not to seem too needy or desperate. We all know the games we play (though admittedly I'm no good at them). But, she calls.

She doesn't call without reason though, she needs me to do something for her of course. Some papers left at work that she needs. She also tells me she might come by our store later if she can make it in time. Naturally, I'm hoping she does and I'm looking forward to it - not having seen her since Thursday last week. Feels like ages ago.

So, there I am doing my business working. Actually feeling pretty good about myself as I do, and then about half an hour before closing time I turn around having lifted some heavy boxes... and there she is. Beautiful as always... that's my first thought.

I'm breakin' one of Bottle Blonde's rules here... I'm droning on and on about a girl (but, my defense stands... she's not an ex - no, not this one). So I do apologize to her... but this one might be a good read anyway - in case you like to bask in someone's misery and stupidity.

Then... my second thought;

Who the fuck is that?

Behind her, there is some guy following her. I have not seen this person before. I doubt I'm doing a good job, but I try to slay the green monster and throw him out the window. I look back at her.

"Hey, how are things going?". My lips are stiff - my smile does not come naturally - if at all, how the heck should I know? I've got other things on my mind... that green monster isn't going do die easy today. Not with that dude around. How can she just tip-toe in here with him? Could've at least given me a warning... don't have to go stabbin' me in the heart like that.

"Good. Did you fix that thing with the computer?"

Right. I had promised her when she called earlier I'd do this work-related thing on the computer for her. I hadn't found the time to do it - busy day and all. As if I care... what about that guy you got there?

"Uh... no. Haven't had the time. I will though. Before I go home."

"I can do it myself, now that I'm here", she says and starts walking in the direction of the office. I need to go the same way, so I start to follow... and I can't stop staring at the guy that's with her. Should I punch him in the face? Maybe rip his tongue out of his mouth and tie a noose around his neck?

It's none of my business. Leave it be, mister!

She comments my shirt not being tucked into my pants.

"There are written policies about it, you know. Girls can have their shirts untucked, but guys must have them properly tucked into their pants", and she smiles... oh, my God, she smiles.

She's trying to be cute, funny and adorable - which she is. But, me and the Green Monster are not in the mood... not with that guy around.

"Yeah... there are a lot of things a girl can do that guys can't. I'm going to be a girl today."

Stop! Right! There!

Now, what kind of a moronic line is that? What on earth does it even mean? I just told her I was going to be a girl today... and I do it in front of some dickswab she's brought with her (just to show off to me?).

I scurry off between shelves, pretending to be looking for something. She doesn't follow, but continues her walk to the office.

And, so the walkie talkie we use to communicate at work starts yelling at me. Now they start selling furniture for me to take outside. The last thing I need right now is to meet customers face to face, pasting a fake smile on my face... desperately trying to make their purchase a memorable one... a fondly memorable one (making it memorable would have been no problem... "If you're not happy with my services, sir, I'd be glad to plug your butthole with a linen closet. Now, go on home and slip your wife a fat one.").

As I rid myself of the customers... no fatal mistakes made... I sit down on a crate and think things over.

Alright, R.E.H. Face the music will'ya. She's told you she doesn't love you... there's nothing you can do about it. If that fuckhead is going to make her happy, then you should be happy for her. You need to go in there and talk to her with a big fat smile on your face as if everything is just fine and dandy.

So, I pull myself together and go to the office.

She's gone. Already left. Didn't even stop by to say goodbye. Of course she noticed my reaction - and maybe he did too. Maybe he felt my desire to dismember him - maim him for life.

And that is when it hits me. And if indeed she did notice... and if indeed her brother noticed my threatening gaze... then I may very well have fucked up in a big way today.

That's correct, readers. It was only then that I realized that the guy who was with her is most likely her brother (whom I have never met). At this point I remember the fact that today is Tuesday, and on Tuesday's she goes to dance class with her brother. She had asked me to join her for dance class a couple months ago, but I suck at dancing. A while ago she started going with her brother, because I was too chicken to do it.

I sent her a message on her cell-phone, asking if she got that thing on the computer done. She hasn't responded... so indeed - she must've seen Mr. Jealousy pop out of his shell today.

Now, I have some work to do to regain her trust, I guess.

Laundry Day

Can't we all just agree to wear dirty underwear and call it the norm?

This isn't some hippie request, indicating that we should all embrace our filth and wear it with pride. No... it's nothing like that. It's not even an environmentalists wet dream to minimize water usage or save our planet from washing detergent pollution. Nor is it some perverted fantasy about the natural odor produced from our nether regions.

Plain and simple, it is a lazy man's request to eliminate the need to ever again have to wander down to the laundry room and waste a few hours of his life doing something he absolutely loathes.

Yep... that lazy man is me. I mean seriously... is there anything in this world that could possibly be more boring than doing one's laundry?

If I ever become a millionaire, the first thing I'd do is hire someone to deal with my dirty clothes... that way I could just scatter them around as I please, and never have to worry about it. In the mornings, after I take my shower, there would always be fresh smelling, clean clothes to put on - and I wouldn't have had to have done anything at all to make it so.

But, I'm no millionaire... far from it. There has to be a way... I've got it!

Disposable clothes!

Yes! Use'Em & Toss'Em would be the brand name. Wear'Em Once... Never Wash.

We actually sell a disposable raincoat at work these days. I never realized the sheer brilliance of that idea until today. This idea will make me rich, filthy rich - so I can hire me that clothes maid... wait... do I need to now?

Besides. Living in an apartment complex where we share a laundry room makes things even worse. Why on earth can't people learn to clean up after themselves? It drives me absolutely crazy. Dog owners are the worst (those that do not know how to tidy up, so just because you own a dog don't jump my bones - ok?). There are times I wonder if they stuck the actual dog inside the washing machine and gave it a spin-bath...

Makes me wish sometimes I had saved up all that hair I cut off of my head. Used to have really long heavy metal hair you know... up until recently. I could bring it to the dog owners apartments and spread it out in their socks and underwear drawers. Maybe, next time I shave my genital area I can save some pubic hairs, put them in an envelope and mail it to them. Install a tiny bomb that triggers when they attempt to open the letter, making it go poof! and spew the pubes into their faces.

Then, there are the ones who always seem to leave clothes behind. A sock, a pair of medieval used panties and various baby clothes. I recall someone saying to me after I commented her use of mismatching socks.

"It's the weirdest thing you know... but every time I do the laundry I end up missing a sock. Can't for the life of me figure out where they go."

Well, moron. They don't just mysteriously vanish, or cease to exist... you just leave them behind in the stupid laundry room! Simple as that!

I should install a washing machine in my apartment. That way I wouldn't have to deal with the other morons... nor would I have to save up two weeks worth of worn clothes and have to spend hours washing them all at once - I could simply chuck the clothes I wore today into the machine at night, and they'd be ready for me in the morning.

But, the only place I could put a washing machine would be in the bathroom. It's not big enough unless I get rid of the bathtub or accept the fact I'd have to put my legs inside of it whenever I need to take a shit.

You see how complicated everything gets? Just because we have to wash our clothes... so I ask of you again; Can't we all just agree to wear our dirty underwear and call it the norm?

Funday Sunday: "One Of These"

This is my favorite comic strip of all time... ha ha! I'm so sorry, people... but this one tickles my funny-bone every single time I see it. The simplicity of the drawings, that somehow still manages to show facial expressions that convey a lot of emotion. And... of course, the truthfulness of the story itself (I hate to admit it, ladies - but, there's a lot of truth to what she says... you girls have the upper hand).

I have absolutely no idea where I got this one from, but I found it one day when cleaning out some old papers a few years ago - mostly school books and stuff, so I guess I got it at school for some reason. I don't know who drew it, so I cannot credit the rightful owner of this entertaining little comic strip. I have a strange feeling it's got something to do with grammar... but we couldn't possibly have used this in class, could we?

When I came across it and read it (having no recollection at all of when I first may have obtained this piece of paper), I laughed so hard I damn near puked. That day I decided I needed to frame it and put it on the wall - that's right! I'm weird like that, and to this day still that thing remains framed and hangs on my bedroom wall.

The version you see here has been scanned into the computer, and I've touched it up a little, since the original is barely holding together, having been stashed away and folded for who knows how long.

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Funday Sunday:

Been thinking it's about time I start structuring my blogging a little bit, and this will be the first thing that I'll do. Every Sunday will be Funday - meaning; I'll put something up that I consider a good laugh. That doesn't mean you guys will laugh every Sunday, because I have a sick sense of humor.

Reason I decided on having a comic relief is because over the past week my blogs have been kind of depressing - so it's time we started enjoying ourselves a little bit more.

I will come up with a few more "regular features" that I will do - but I do not want to have a full week schedule of what I will post on a daily basis. Some structure is good... too much and it's no longer interesting.

For those of you who have started leaving me comments - Thank You. It really makes it all a lot more worth while (the blogging).

It's just one of those weeks...

Thought I'd stay in tonight as well, after originally thinking of going out. I decided that I would check out the Red Sox vs. Indians game 6.

See, I have an account with MLB TV, which I have believed to be really price worthy up until now. Lately I've gotten a lot of what you see to the left. Temporarily unavailable. During the times when it is apparently not unavailable, I still can't log in. Since yesterday I haven't been allowed to log on to my account, due to the application being "unable to validate my information for purposes of checking my location against their blackout system".

Now this is just great. No plans for tonight, except to watch the stupid ballgame, and it looks as if I will not be able to see it because of a software error. I've e-mailed their customer support (did it yesterday), but I am yet to receive a response.

All I wanted to do was watch the game and get my baseball fix... but, I guess it's just one of those weeks when nothing - absolutely nothing - works out the way I want it to.

Fausto Carmona vs. Curt Schilling tonight - an interesting match-up as well. Would've been a heck of a lot more interesting had it been the Braves waiting to face one of those two teams instead of the Rockies. As if you couldn't guess from that statement: I'm an Atlanta Braves supporter.

I remember that October back in 1991. I used to bowl with the Florida Space Coast League back in those days, and every night after the bowling ended all those monitors that show the score were tuned into the play-off games. There was no team in Florida then, so everyone was rooting for the Braves (my father became a Marlin after their inclusion, but my heart will forever remain with the Braves). Quite a few beers would go down on those nights, and quite a few cheers would be heard. John Smoltz became my hero right then and there... and he's still around pitching as good as he ever has. I always thought he reminded me of Richard Dreyfuss back in the day... am I the only one?

Next year... maybe Glavine will be back to pitch alongside Smoltz. The two of them would certainly bring the glory days back to Atlanta. Here's to hope!

Insomnia = Rage

Haven't been sleeping well, and it showed at work today.

We have a morning meeting every day, going through what we are supposed to do during the day. This morning one of my co-workers took a long hard look at me.

"Are you tired today?"

It's not a question. It's a statement. I concur. "Yeah, a little. Some more coffee and I'm good to go though - no worries."

I wasn't good to go. Still ain't. Lack of sleep will do all kinds of strange things to a guy. Not only does one lose focus, the ability to be sharp and intelligent - and as I've proven over the last couple of blogs; It messes with your ability to write.

One more thing it does... I don't know if it's just me or if this is true for most of us. It causes me to become aggravated for nothing. And, less than an hour after opening the store today... the shit started hitting the fan.

I'm not going to bore you with the details of what set me off, but it all started when I wanted to grab a quick breakfast sandwich and drink some orange juice to get my day started. We communicate through walkie talkies (it's a big store, and I usually operate in the stock room), and my boss was at the cash register, nagging me constantly with questions about whether or not we had certain items in stock, whether certain customers had recieved what they ordered last week and what not.

I ate about two bites out of my sandwich, and then had to leave it behind and start running back and forth. After about half an hour I had finally found the time to finish eating it, and then the orange juice was gone. I had no idea where I had put it, and I was thirsty as hell... and that walkie talkie of mine simply would not shut up.

This - the missing juice, the constant barrage of questions for me to answer, the continuous running back and forth and then the final straw - a carton that was stuck and simply would not budge no matter how hard I pulled at it. By the time I had gotten it loose, I was absolutely rabid with rage.

That same co-worker who commented my tired look during the morning meeting came to my rescue... really she did. She stretched her hand out to me and asked for the walkie talkie.

"Go get yourself a cup of coffee, sit down for 5 minutes... and breathe."

I did. For 15 minutes. Didn't help one bit.

Goodbye, My Love

Today was a very sad day at work. Today was the last day that The One was my co-worker. She will remain in the same franchise, but has been transferred to a store in another town. She was the one and last thing that had me wanting to go to work at any given day. Without her, there will be no joy what so ever going in.

Lots of people, as I've mentioned before, have been laid off as we've been cutting down on staff. Most of those are people that I enjoyed working with. There has also been a major change in our work schedule (working irregular hours to fit in weekends and long hours), and that restructuring has left me working hours that the few remaining people I like do not work.

The only one I had, whose company I enjoyed at work, was The One. Now, she too is gone. I don't dislike anyone at work - it's not that I cannot stand them, but the ones that are left just don't put a smile on my face upon arrival.

Soon I will be working with one person that I really - and by that I sincerely mean really - can not tolerate. This person is the most annoying and incompetent being I have ever come across in my entire life. And, this person was handed a management role instead of The One, who had applied for the job and had shown at work how badly she wanted it - working late, staying in without pay, doing a better job than anyone before her has ever done at our store...

Why, Oh Why? How can they send her away from us (it's not just me wanting her to stay - we all do)? And, how can they hire someone that not a single one wants anything to do with??? Not even our store manager wants this person - the decision was made over her head as well.

A co-worker came in extra today. He's one of those guys I enjoy working with, but is going to school now, so he only works every other weekend (of course, not the same weekends that I work). He hadn't yet heard of the employment of this character.

"What?", he says. "Well, they can forget me coming in to work extra on a weekday then. If she's here - I'm staying the fuck away."

Me? I'm looking all over the place for a new job. The person I'm talking about is currently working in another city, and will not arrive until December 1st... by then I hope to be long gone.

Well... the last hour or so today, I felt really down. I spoke to The One just before she walked out the door.

"So, how does it feel, now that you won't be coming back here to work any more?"

She smiles at me - that smile that I love so much it hurts.

"Aaah... You know I'll still be coming in here every day."

"Well, you'll be over in Anytown, so it's kind of hard for you to pop in here."

"So, I'll come in evenings. Just like always."

"But you don't have the keys anymore."

At that, I thought I saw some sadness in her eyes. She doesn't like to show it, and quickly started talking about something else. When she left, she barely said goodbye. I told her good luck at her new job.

Now... now I just pray that we will still stay in touch. We've had some problems of late, because of me loving her and she not loving me... but I hope we stay in touch, because I need to see that smile every now and then.

So, Goodbye Beautiful. I hope you will enjoy your new job.

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I'm boring you all with my posting about The One, so I promise... Tomorrow I will post a blog that has nothing to do with her... Nothing at all. Today, I just had to get this out of my system.

These are my pants...

I did mention in a previous post that I had lost a lot of weight. And today I thought I'd touch upon that subject a little.

Went to the gym after work today, and that is where I started thinking how much of me is actually no longer there. Previous few posts have been a little depressing, so I feel I have the right to brag a little today.

Lets begin by explaining the rather comical picture you see to the left. Those pants (I swear) are buttoned and all zipped up - I used to wear them on a daily basis less than a year ago. Today - I wear them at work, using that belt buckle so they will actually stay on me, and not fall down to my ankles as soon as I take a step. My boss a couple of days ago had an opinion about them;

"Go out and by yourself a new pair of pants, will you", she says.

Now, we've had discussions about my pants before, and my firm belief is that the company should offer work pants for guys like me, because I wear them out in a couple of months. I lost a previous battle for this as I refused to change out of a pair of jeans that probably showed a little more skin than they should. Once a hole appeared that would allow my sack to go peek-a-boo, even I realized I needed to change them.

"What? What's wrong with these?", I say looking utterly perplexed... jokingly. "There are no holes in these".

"No", she says. "But, you could go camping in them. It doesn't look good on you."

"Really? I thought I looked cool in these. Like a regular hip hoppin' dude. I'm in! I'm happenin', ain't I? Pants are supposed to be baggy these days, didn't you know? I should pull my shorts up a bit too."

"Yeah, that style doesn't suit you."

I think maybe I bought me some time joking the whole thing off. But, I guess I'll have to get a new pair of pants for work soon enough.

But, what really happened? I mean... to my excess pounds. Only a year ago I weighed in at a whopping 265 pounds. Today, my weight stands at 187 pounds (could you see a girl posting their weight like I do right now?). I haven't changed my eating habits all that much, though I crossed bags of chips and bars of chocolate off the menu for the most part. Used to eat at least three large bags of chips a week, and possibly one big chocolate bar a day - and that is no more (don't even want it anymore). I still enjoy pizza, hamburgers and other kinds of junk food though.

The other thing I did was start going to a gym (along with The One, so maybe she has more to do with my weight loss than anything else... further explanation soon). I no longer go to the gym to lose weight... I continue to go there to build muscles (any fat remaining, I hope to replace with muscular eye-candy for the ladies).

Providing I'm not sick with some form of cancer or other deadly disease, my strongest belief in what actually made me lose that much weight in such a short time is this... a co-worker of mine said it best one day. She stood there looking at me for a while, noticing how skinny I've become.

"Dammit, R.E.H. Are you in love?"

"Huh? Come again?"

"You must be in love. People lose weight when they're in love, you know. So, who is she?"

Jackpot!

Didn't I start losing weight when I came to the conclusion that my feelings for The One were not merely sexual desire, not just a need to put a tag on her and call her my own, but actually wanting to be with her, caring for her, doing everything in my power to make sure that she was happy and all pampered up?

I believe that is when it started to happen, indeed.

Merry (fucking) Christmas!

Today at work we started unpacking christmas stuff. I (used to) love christmas like every other kid, and I believe I still would - were it still a holiday celebrated once a year during a short period of time. Now it is being celebrated for a lengthy period of time, and by the time actual christmas arrives I am sick and tired of it.

We're not the first store to put the holiday spirit up for display. Others are already done with it, and we're supposed to have it all set up and finished by next friday - that's October 26th. More than 2 months to go until christmas arrives, and until then I will be forced to walk every day among the Santa Clauses, Raindeer, singing christmas trees, snowmen and various colorful christmas ornaments. Not to mention the everyday listening to the christmas carols joyfully playing to kids who just cannot keep their fingers off that singing christmas tree - or that singing "Santa on a Harley", or one of those multiple music boxes and their stupid little santas skating 'round and 'round... until I almost feel like bringing a sledgehammer to work some day and go berzerk on all those friggin' things, smashing them violently to itty bitty pieces laying scattered beautifully across the floor.

Like I said, I love christmas - but I hate the way it's been commercialized into nothing but a moneymaking business, and stretching the duration of its profit longer each and every year. So really, I don't need anyone telling me I'm desecrating christmas - that's not my job, it's the corporate fuckers who won't leave us alone about it for 2-3 months of the year (almost a quarter of a year nowadays to celebrate the holiday). While they make the big $, I am left earning my pennies while being subjected to X-Mas torture day in, day out - and once christmas finally does arrive... I don't want any part of it anymore.** How am I to feel jolly listening to "jingle bells" with my family when I've heard the stupid song umpteen times over the last couple of months.

"Could someone please turn that crap off, and play me some real music???"

Otherwise, work was ok today. Haven't slept much the last few nights on account of the depressing events with The One (as I will call her for reference in my blogging), so I was getting through the day running my mouth rabid, telling jokes that ranged from poor to exceptionally dense. We all had fun because of it, so mission accomplished anyway.

The One on the other hand was a sweetheart today, and despite recent events I want her more and more every day. Gave her a massage upon her own request, and it was probably more pleasurable for me than it was for her. Is she using me? Knowing I will do anything for her... Is she toying with my feelings?

I don't care. As long as it makes me feel good - I just don't care... But, maybe time will kill that feeling off just as those joyful christmas carols that I like so much start to wear me down after a month or so of constant listening to them.

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** I have nothing against capitalism. I'm all for it in fact. I just can't stand anything or anyone that messes with my mental well being.

Heartbroken...

Well, I just finished writing a lengthy blog, which was to explain my previous post, which consisted merely of the information that something was horribly wrong, and that my life was over.

Isn't it funny how when you are drunk your life is always over as soon as things doesn't quite go your way.

This situation is quite a heartbreaking one though, and the post I just finished writing (and then decided not to post) was full of heartbroken sorrow and self pity. I did start this blog to get things off my chest, but as I read through what I had written, I realized that maybe I shouldn't post that, as it was also full of things I might regret having said once this thing blows over.

Here is the jist of it though;

I am in love with this girl at work. Been so for quite some time, and while we are good friends, she does not have the same feelings for me that I have for her. This has been a problem for the both of us, and we handle it very differently. I do believe she genuinely wants to be my friend - but how can I live with that when I yearn for her loving every single second I look at her?

We were drunk the other night, and she kind of let me know in no uncertain way that she would never ever fall in love with me. A lengthy conversation ensued, and I left heartbroken with the desire to drown myself in the river. It was a 30 minute walk home in the rain that night, all of which is alongside the river... yet I stayed on the path all the way home, letting the raindrops fall off my cheeks hiding the tears that accompanied them.

I'm not a guy who usually falls in love, so when I do - it is a big thing for me. I can fall for women left and right - wanting their bodies, their lips and even sometimes their company (without the sex). But, I don't ever fall in love. This girl got me hooked though, like no one before her - and as far as I'm concerned... she's The One.

I'm still trying to figure out what I need to do not to lose her. I'm not sure I would handle losing her very well (which is a weird thing to say, as I haven't ever really 'had' her in any other way than as a friend). I wouldn't take that walk down to the river though, but depression for me has the tendency to leave me wallowing in self pity and apathy towards the world in general.

I'm a schmuck! Why do I hold on to my love for someone who does not love me back? But, I know exactly why. Every time I see that smile of hers, I melt like an ice cream cone on a hot summers day.

Kicked in the balls... hard

My life is over. If I'm not too hung over, maybe I'll tell you why tomorrow.

Right now, I am just a drunken fool who's supposed to be at work in about 6 hours, and sleep seems the furthest thing from my mind.

Really though, where do I go from here... I had a reason to start blogging - never quite got to the point because of my usual indecisiveness - and now that point is no more.

I was worried about it before I went out tonight... almost didn't go because of it. And now, I wish I hadn't - Boy! I wish I'd stayed home tonight... like never before.

SOLD!

The old car I was telling you about. The internet ad I put up to sell it. It paid off quickly. I sold that car today, and although I had to knock off a few more bucks on the price, that was a huge load off my chest.
It had gotten to the point where this old car was becoming too much of a burden, as you may know from reading the "Car Trouble" post. The tickets I got that day are still unresolved, unpaid and not yet tore to shreds - though my fingers are itching to do just that. Been trying for days now, unable to get to talk to the right person to file a complaint (read "outright refuse to pay the stupid tickets").

It was almost sad to see the car drive off into the sunset with a new owner. It had served me well over the three years I've owned it. I went to pick up the Chrysler and return it to my parking space, and felt really good again - now that's a nice car!

Also, I went shopping today. Like I've mentioned before, I've lost a few pounds. With all the positives that come out of that, there is one thing that isn't too good about it. I do not have a single item of clothing that fits. See... I'm not a rich guy (especially since I bought the aforementioned Chrysler), so it's not like I can just go out a buy a new closet full of clothing articles.

I hate shopping for clothes. Again, maybe it's the low self confidence issues, but I rarely find something that makes me look good. Other people look good in the same clothes - heck! Even the mannequins look better than I do. I almost feel ashamed at times buying the nice clothes. It's like people look at me thinking; "Well, good luck there buddy. As if that nice shirt is gonna help you out any - you'll still be butt ugly".

And, the changing booth's are not built for a guy like me either. Since I don't know my size anymore, I can't just grab a pair of pants, pay for them and leave. Now I have to enter that booth, strip naked and try everything on.

The booth I entered today to try on a pair of jeans and a nice looking sweater was not built with tall people in mind. As I stood inside, looking for that much needed privacy, I found myself overlooking the people in the store. My head was bobbing high above the walls, and if I wanted to look in the mirror, I had to bend down. I'm not even that tall - 6ft. 1. I imagined how I looked through other people's eyes, and it made me smile a little. That head of mine bobbing around as I squirmed in the small confines of the miniature changing booth. Arms and elbows banging against the walls - my ass almost pushing the swinging door open as I bent down to untie my shoes (no lock on the door either).

Once home, I was satisfied with what I bought, though. Two pairs of new jeans, and that sweater. The jeans in particular I needed, because the ones I have if used without a belt buckle would just fall down to my knees. Practical though, when taking a piss, as I didn't have to unbutton or unzip - just unbuckle, pull the pants down and haul out the fountain pen.

I also got a haircut today. One's got to take advantage of those days off from work. The girl who cut it was really cute, and I enjoyed looking at her in the mirror as she worked on my hair. She had long dark hair, a perfectly pristine face and she was really, really short. She'd have no trouble trying out clothes - and again, my point is proven - those are the people these changing booth's are built for. The gorgeous people.

Maybe I should have asked her out?

The things people say...

I sell furniture for a living. A decent enough way to earn your daily meal, and that roof over your head, I suppose. I hate it though. Especially the way things are being handled right now. People are being laid off as we are cutting down on staff - yet the sales stay the same, doubling the workload for those of us unfortunate enough to remain employed at this place. But, jobs are hard to come by, so I guess I will stick around a while longer.

Today was just another day of work. Short on staff, usual frequency of visiting customers, a truck-load of mattresses arriving (how often do you buy a new bed?) and no place to store these mattresses. Also, it marked the last day I'll be working with a co-worker who's company I enjoy. He'll do his last day tomorrow, which is a day off for me. Two more will do their last days next week - one of whom I'm sure you'll hear a lot of in future blogs... but, I'm not ready for that just yet...

While nothing special really happened at work today - nothing out of the ordinary - there is one thing that I never seem to quite come to terms with. Anyone who has ever had a job in a service minded business is sure to have experienced this. I call it "excess information".

Let me tell you about today... and remind you - today was an ordinary day.

I meet up with a middle aged woman in the mattress pad section, she needs help as she browses blindly among the many different types. Fair enough. That's what I'm here for... that's my job. Finding out what her needs are is the first thing I do, and she tells me the most important thing for her is that she can wash them. I tell her most of them have removable covers and can be washed in any washing machine.

"Oh, good... I have such a gross husband at home", she tells me.

Now, what am I supposed to respond to this? I let it pass, and she realizes what she just told me. But, then proceeds to the part where she feels the need to explain why she just said what she said. This is what follows;

"I shouldn't say that about him... what I mean is he has a rash, and bleeds all over the bed at night. It's disgusting, I have to wash it every day."

Continuing to ignore these comments I quickly proceed to showing her a couple of samples to choose from, and soon enough I am able to send her off with a pair of new mattress pads... not really wanting to think of what the poor things will have to endure in the near future.

Later... a rather over-weight lady (not obese, but definitely not skinny) is looking for a new box mattress for her and (again) the husband.

"What kind of mattress should we get? Both of us are on the heavy side, as you can see...", and she starts posing as if I hadn't already noticed. "And my husband is even bigger than me."

Now, I have nothing against fat people... I was one of them until recently, and there is still some "flab" left around my belly. I am not one to make fun of them either, nor do I have the need to tell others that "Hey... I lost the extra pounds - so can you" - because that is not always as easy as it seems (I'm not even sure how I did it - but, we may look into that in some other blog). So, what do I say to this woman? What does she want to hear?

"Sure, ma'm. We have the 'fatty-bed' section over here, if you'll follow me."? I don't think so.

This particular comment is a common one, so I've got a good grip on handling this situation. I don't tell them they're not fat, because that would be a lie. I simply (as I've found is generally the best thing to do) ignore the fact, and tell them what they should think about when buying a new mattress. I tell them that their weight does not determine the kind of mattress they buy, but the comfort level they feel when trying them out. It's all very individual...

Those are the two that I can recall from today's events. But, over the years I have spent working there, I have heard things that are shocking, amusing and outright scary. I will never forget the much less than attractive couple who picked up a pair of mattresses they had bought. I'm sorry to say, but the wife was about as far from beautiful as they come (though I am happy for her having found true love in life, which is more than I have). She was outrageously skinny, and her eyes seemed to be close to popping out of her sockets, that's how sunken in her face was. He was by definition obese, and lacked any sort of whiteness to what was left of his teeth. I don't think either one of them had been close to a shower the previous month. The two of them start telling me what they are going to do as soon as they come home with their new mattresses.

"It'll be nice to have a new bed tonight when we get busy humping. I'm gonna give it to my wife in every position possible tonight. She really likes it doggy style. It'll be great... isn't she beautiful, my wife?".

Of course, I can't tell him how I feel about his wife. And surely I do not want to picture the two of them having sex. That's when the wife starts telling me how good her husband is in bed. I mean, seriously! It is my job to help them load the damn things onto the trailer, so I can't just run away from it all - but do I want to hear it? Hell, no... I wouldn't want to hear about it even if the chick was hot - though in that situation it would have been a case of jeallousy.

Then, there was the time when someone I (barely) knew came in wanting to return a bed-frame that was broken. I asked what had happened, as I quickly judged it was not faulty production that was the cause. Thinking that because she knew me, she could tell the truth, and this is what had happened;

"Me and my boyfriend were doing some seriously hard fucking last night, and it just broke down on us. Imagine that! In the heat of things we just crashed through to the floor, ha ha". The boyfriend was standing behind her, looking blissful.

"Ok. I can't take this back. Maybe in the future, you two should take it easy with the love-making, huh?". That time there was simply no way to ignore anything. She was actually mad at me for not refunding her loss.

What compels people to tell these kinds of things to a complete stranger? Do they just not know where to draw the line? Or, is it some sort of uncertainty - like a nervous tick that forces them to utter these words, unaware of what they are telling me? The sex-thing especially - I get that selling mattresses a lot, and I am fully aware that they are not only to be used for a good nights' sleep. There will be times the people who buy them are going to make sweet loving in them as well. Maybe that is why they feel a little nervous when buying them - because they are not only evaluating the quality of sleep they'll get in them, but they are also interested in the bounce they will provide for those sexual encounters.

Every now and then, lonely male beings (always male in this case) feel the need to jump up and down on the beds discussing that particular bounce with me.

"Oh, this has a good bounce to it. It'll be great when I bring home some hot babe from the bar at night, eh?", and they smile. One guy even laid himself out flat on his belly and began humping the mattress. He rolled over and said: "Yup... this one will do".

I feel sorry for that guy, because I doubt there is much of that going on in the bed he bought off me.

Car Trouble

I'm havin' dinner all by my lonesome, as is the case most every day I'm off from work. But, this day (yesterday) something new happened, and it wasn't a very pleasant surprise at all. The doorbell rang... just as I scooped the first mouthful of freshly made meatloaf into my gaping, hungry jaw.

Still chewing, I rise from my chair to answer the door. It's my neighbor - one of the few I actually like having as my neighbor where I live.

"Maybe you should go take a look at your old car", he says.

I bought a new car a couple months back. A brand new Chrysler Sebring that I'm very proud of. My old car was a rusty old Ford, and selling it has proven to be a far more difficult task than I could imagine. It stays parked on a free-of-charge parking space for residents of the area who do not have an assigned (rented) parking space to their name.

"Yeah? What's up with it?", I say.

"Thought I saw one of those red stickers on it. The kind they put on to warn you before they tow it away."

"Aw, man... don't want them to do that. Thanks, buddy. Just gonna finish my meal and I'll walk over there and have a look."

So, I finish my meatloaf... not enjoying it at all - my mind being pre-occupied with thoughts on "why would they tow my car away?", "It's free parking... granted, I've been standing there for a while". "But... no one seems interested in buying the damn thing, what am I supposed to do?". But, believe me - I had not yet found out the worst about it.

Grabbing the old car keys I walk over to where I've been parked, and quickly note that - indeed - there is a red sticker on the driver's side windshield. Thinking I better move the car someplace else, I try to remove the sticker - only to find that it's the kind of glue and paper that just doesn't come off. Madly fingering at it's corners, desperately trying to get a piece of it to rip it off. After a while (a frustrating while) I get a tiny edge loose, just enough to get a loose grip on it. I begin to tear, and it lasts for all of a quarter of an inch before it rips apart... all I could get off was a tiny nip of the corner, and that's when I saw it...

...at the passenger side of the front windshield, tucked in underneath the wipers... a stack of them. Not one, not two - but a stack of them ugly parking tickets. FIVE of them to be precise, although I didn't find out until later exactly how many there were. I yanked them off the windshield and quickly pocketed them in my jacket pocket. If I knew the amount I was being fined, I was afraid I might do serious damage to the car - rendering it completely unsellable.

Never mind the red sticker. I needed to figure out a place to park my car, and the only solution available at this point was to go get my new Sebring, which is safely parked in my very own parking space. I switch the two cars - so I now have the old car parked in my space... they can't possibly tow it from there.

Last night I could hardly stop thinking about those parking tickets I brought back with me. Having looked at them, discovering there were a good 5 of them - issued one each day, claiming there was a 24 hour limit to parking where I was parked... if that is the case, where does it say? How am I supposed to know this? No such sign exists, no such information can be had anywhere for as far as I can tell. They amount to a good $150.

Still, today this bugs me. Called them up to inform them I had no intention of paying these tickets, but was greeted only by the response: "We're sorry sir, but none of the representatives who handle these issues are in the office today. Could you please return your call tomorrow? They will be in at 8 A.M."

"Sure thing, mister. In the meantime, how would you like a roll of unpaid parking tickets shoved up your shiny asshole?". I didn't say that last part, but I thought it - and it would have to do.

Set up a new internet ad today, hoping someone will buy the damn thing this time around. Knocked the price down by about $150 from what I had previously hoped to get for it - which now means that I am $300 down on the car (if I can't get out of paying those stupid tickets that is). Oh, and let's not forget the $10 the ad itself cost me. That's almost half of what a new set of tires for my Chrysler would cost me, and I need that soon as winter is drawing near.

Is that really too much to ask? I mean, basically - what I was hoping to do was trade an old car in for a set of tires. An old car (fully driveable) that comes with both winter and summer tires, should surely be worth the price of nothing but a set of new tires. But, now it looks like I might even have to just give the car away... for free! And, again, I will have to take out a few bucks from my savings account to buy the new tires - there goes that winter vacation I was hoping to afford this year.

On the bright side of things... brought with me some cleaning spray, and that red sticker came off with ease, using the ice scraper from my new car.

Losing my virginity...

Remember that? That first time you were intimate with another person in that special way? That is how I feel right now. The anticipation, the nervousness, and that tingling sensation in my gut as I eagerly give myself to you - as I bare my nakedness to you in a way that it has never been bared before.

I've had the experience before, of course... all alone, sharing it with no one but me, myself and I. I've experimented with it, played around with the thought of doing it... imagining how good it would be, how wonderfully relieving. Envisioning how good I would be - how in control I would be, and how you could not get enough of me. Picturing us together, comfortably inseparable in that bared nakedness which only full and complete trust in one another will allow. You and me, sharing our innermost secrets and desires.

So, with trembling fingers I begin... stroking the keys gently at first. Then, as I start to feel more confident my fingers move faster. Still, in the back of my mind; Am I doing this right? Is this what you want? And what do I do next?

I begin to think too much. That has always been my problem. My mind wanders off, taking me places I don't necessarily want to go... I am not as good as I thought I'd be, am I? I'm not talking about sexual intercourse here - I'm talking about blogging. About sharing those wandering thoughts with others in a therapeutic effort to ease my maniacal ponderings about life in general.

So, this is our first time. We're exploring unknown territories together. Maybe you have more experience than I do, but it's never been you and me before - so this is new to you too. Neither one of us know what to expect, nor do we know where this will lead us once that first awkward attempt is over and done with. I will do my best, I promise, to fulfill you. I will put in an effort so that you will come back to me again and again, just to see what I can do for you this time. But, bear with me - I've only done this in my fantasies before.

I have nothing to say. Not in this first blog.

See. That's what I'm talking about. There's so much I want to say and do, but now that we are together for the first time, I'm just not able to bring it on the way I thought I would. Why is that? Is it the low self esteem issues again? The over analyzing that I tend to do, making me look back over what I previously wrote to check again and again if the words are worthy of placement in this block of text?

I wanted to tell you about my (virtually non-existent) love life. I wanted to share with you the unfulfillment I feel at work, and the desire to do better things in life - more important things. I wanted to touch upon subjects rarely spoken freely of, and in this way help myself figure a thing or two out. Those things that I keep thinking about. Maybe I could help you, and you could help me - because surely I am not the only one with the types of problems I have. I mean, my issues are my own - but yours may be similar in nature, and you may face the same unanswered questions. The mother of them all being; Am I just not as worthy as the next guy?

Sounds depressing doesn't it? Yes, it does - and it is. But, many of us do feel that way. Many of us suffer a lack of self confidence. I believe many of us feel we have so much to offer, but are unable in one way or the other to find a recipient for what we believe we have to give. Or maybe we just don't know how to deliver it.

The blog I am offering you, is not going to be like that. I am not really a depressing character myself - rather a fun-loving, easy-going guy with a tendency to let my mind wander off in deep thoughts about what is right and what is wrong. About why people act and behave the way they do, and why is our world becoming what it's becoming? Often these things are in relation to what's happening to me, in my life. So, instead of just sitting around thinking about it all by myself - this is an effort to share these thoughts with others and hope that you too can find comfort in my words. That you and me together can maybe find an answer or two to some of those questions.

You may not care one bit about my personal problems, or joys for that matter. I don't care if you do or don't either. What I care about is that you find my words to be a good read, and that I can entertain you or make you think about things you never thought about before. I want to discuss my individual blogs with you the reader. I want you to tell me if it's just me, or do you recognize a little of yourself in what I say. There are times when my thoughts border on paranoia. At times they may just be plain stupid. Sometimes trivial - sometimes perhaps revolutionary. Now and then, I will feel like I'm on to something, other times I'll feel completely lost without an inkling of an idea where to go or what to do. So tell me, am I crazy... am I just a rambling madman?

While this blog is about nothing, there is nothing for us to discuss. This was our first time together, so now you have an idea of what to expect. I didn't deliver like I thought I would, I wasn't in control like I thought I would be nor did it last as long as I wanted it to... but Gosh! Darn! have I been longing for this day. I have finally lost my [blogging] virginity!

Was it as good for you, as it was for me?