Death comes around this old house again

I am back. It has been a while but there were technology issues among others. I will be brief today, too. I had a lot to say but it may have to wait. Anyway, I want you to recall last week's post about me being dehydrated and like the Grim Reaper. It all makes sense to me now.

I speak to the Wife on Friday, before I head to the Outlaws. She tells me that the Lad had called her and asked if we can take home the class hamster for the weekend. She says "yes" and they bring the hamster home. No worries, since I will just avoid the thing.

Anyway, he feeds the thing but it is far from active. No problem. we go to see "Ghost Rider" on Saturday afternoon. We come home, have dinner and then I go up to watch the hockey game. I then hear the Wife and Lad talking. They are looking at the now non-moving hamster. The Wife asks if the Lad can see him breathing but the answer is no and the critter's eyes are open and not blinking. The thing is an ex-hamster.

The Lad is hysterical. It works well when the sensitive, animal lover has the class pet die on his watch. He is crying, worried that his classmates will be mad. Meanwhile, I am laughing. It is the funniest scene I have seen in a long while, given that Friday night dinners are more sedate what with the bottle of Galliano having been pitched. The Lad is getting angry with me for laughing, but I cannot help it. The thing was a fucking disposable pet that was well past his due date.

I had wondered if I had gone down in the middle of the night and touched him with my bony finger, Grim Reaper style. It would all make sense. I am feeling "reaperish" and here I take it out on some old rodent.

The Wife is calling all the teachers that she knows to figure what to do. Do you bring back the dead hamster or dispose of it in a suitable manner and bring back the empty cage? It is not something that I had ever thought about before. Anyway, I called me sister in law, but she was out at a viewing of the mother of a colleague of hers, how ironic was that? Had she waited, she could have taken the dead hamster and put it in the coffin with the dead mother. My brother and I had a chuckle over the whole scene. I was wondering how we could cook with the dead critter.

It was decided that we should bring it back. I had placed the cage, with dead hamster inside, on the deck. I did not want to risk the smell of decaying rodent permeating our house. That has been done before, no need to do it again. Anyway, I have to go (notice how it becomes my duty to deal with the removal of dead critters, I do not recall being ASKED or consulted on that one, I love the rationalization that went along with that, as if I WANT to or LIKE dealing with such things) put the corpse in a shoe box. Thankfully, the squirrels or raccoons did not get into it, then again, I would not care.

I left the thing out in the snow. How would we explain the presence of snow in the cage. Then again, there was no longer a hamster there, so who would complain. Long story short, they took it back and the teacher had the kids write a eulogy for the dead thing. She asked that the Wife dispose of it. It was done in a humane fashion, the shoe box and bag that the dead hamster was in, was pitched in the first dumpster that she could find.

The best part is that after all his being upset, the first thing the Lad said to friends, was "I killed the hamster". That came about because he was worried that the kids would make fun of him or be angry. At which point, I said, "If they say something, point at them, and tell them that they are next. Want to come to my place to sleepover?" He liked that but the Wife, who apparently never had a sense of humor, did not. Fuck her if she can't take a joke.

Well, that is the story of death for today. Keep smiling. Ciao!

This post is dedicated to one song by Elvis Costello

I am back. What is wrong with parts of the world? Where is the harmony, sweet harmony? Every time I feel like this inside, there's one thing I want to know. What's so funny about peace, love and understanding? I thank Elvis Costello for that quote. Who knew how true it would be to me over 25 years later?

Ooooops she did it again. Dumb trailer trash twit Britney "I am now bald all over" Spears checked into rehab only to leave again. Make up your fucking mind, half wit! It is now looking like Fed-ex is going to get full custody. Then again, he should be careful what he wishes for.

I see where Heather Mills is joining "Dancing with the Stars". A one-legged ballroom dancer? Her twirls should be interesting. I guess she cannot be accused of having two left feet. She does not have two feet. All that after bleeding poor Sir Paul dry with the lawyers.

That is the happy stuff as I see it. I mean it does not affect me in the least and is truly meaningless. But where is the harmony? I ask myself, as I walk past, is there only pain and hatred and misery? So where are the strong and who are the trusted? And where is the harmony? Dammit! Where is the harmony? I keep asking, but I ain't seeing the answer...anywere.

I guess I will just have to take my black hooded robe, bony fingers and go out a Grim Reapin'. I will do my "reapin'" to the sounds of the Grateful Dead though ("Truckin'" seems about right for this job). Gotta run as I got souls to take. Ciao!

Try thinking moist thoughts

I am back. I have some sort of random observations to share. I will not be going into the ongoing saga of Britney "I am now shaved all over" Spears. Suffice to say, the longer this goes on, the better Fed-Ex looks. The bar was set low and she cannot seem to get over it.

My basic thought was that along with my illness, I have somehow become very dehydrated. I would wake from a sweat soaked sleep with my hair in what looks like some sort of matted mohawk. What the fuck is up with that? Then I take a shower and fine my hair to be as dry as straw. If the Wicked Witch of the West shows up, I could be in trouble. It is as if all the moisture in body has been sucked out. That may not be such a bad thing provided I got to cum, but that has not been the case here. I am being sucked dry without the actually sucking and realease I would hope for.

My lips are parched as is my throat. My hands are dry and shrunken. I am telling you, when I wake up and look in the mirror, it is as if my head has been replaced by a shrunken head. I look like fucking Beetlejuice! What is up with that? Is it the illness? Is it February? Is it those damn, cold, dry Arctic airmasses? What ever it is I do not like it. Not one bit.

I have those bony, baby fingers now. I have the Grim Reaper's skeleton fingers now. I am thinking I can put on the black robe with hood, carry a scythe, point a bony finger out of my sleeve and groan "I have come for you!". That will freak people out, especially on the bus. Now, that I am thinking about it, it sounds like a great idea. That will teach people for allowing the crazy to come out.

Why am I so damn dry? I try to stay hydrated, but there is not enough liquid in the world to allow me to do that right now. I do not know how much longer I will be able to stand it. At least, I am not going swimming in a chloronated pool. Then my flesh would just fall off of my body. Last night, I had to slather on the lip baum and hand cream. The pillow kept sliding out of my hands while I tried to fluff it. I gave up and just kicked the thing in place. You think I had pleasant dreams?

I gotta get me a drink, so thanks for stopping by. Ciao!

A Weekend bathed in my own juices, er sweat

I am back. I know I did not post on Friday. Guess what? I was too ill to go to the Outlaws' place. I need all the energy I can muster not to shake them all. I know it would do no good for my father in law, but he could have used a good shaking fifty or forty years ago. My mother in law needs a good shaking. My brother in law needs the shaking that my father in law needed forty years ago. And so it goes...I must administer a good, old fashioned shaking to the whole Outlaw clan. Maybe then they will see the light.

It was nice to be home and chilled by seven on a Friday. I was able to crawl under the duvet, alone, and shiver to my heart's content. It was one of those "I am ill" weekends. Saturday, I got up and had breakfast and then went back to bed. I was fine for a bit and then would just pass out. I would wake up, feel semi-fine, and then pass out again. I took a shower and then had a couple of ibuprofen. I am lying in bed and can feel the sweat begin. I am wiping my brow and my tee shirt is just getting moist like an aroused woman. I get up, finally, and I have to go out. I have to change the tee shirt because I am afraid of it icing up when I go out into the cold of the evening. It is crazy. I actually went through three tee shirts during the night.

Sunday was better. The cold moved into my head and I had stuff to do by day. I took those ibuprofen in the morning. I was not really doing anything late in the morning when I could feel the sweat building on me. It is not a good thing. I do not mind it when I am working out, but just standing in the basement carrying up a basket of laundry, that does not work for me. I did survive the day, though and that is good.

Today, I am not really any better. The head is stuffed and alternates feeling like it is filled with helium and lead. I wonder if those paint chips that I liked to snack on as a child are starting to effect me. I do not come from a family of eaters, so there was not much in the way of snacks so paint chips were a real treat for us. That was the joy of growing up in the late 60s and early 70s. I liked the blue chips best, reminded me of eating robin's eggshells. I am not sure where tis is coming from, it must be the delirium.

I have to run and go back to my dark place. Ciao!

Oh, the disgusting things the body produces

I am back. I also feel like shit. I am achy, my lower back is killing me and apparently I was moaning in my sleep last night. I find that hard to believe because I had another disjointed sleep which left me awake at ten to five this morning. The best part is that I have the start of one of those "wet" coughs. It is one of those that shakes my whole body and hurts like hell. When I get a good one going, I am coughing up some wicked looking "lung butter". As gross as that may sound, the real deal is far worse. I get it all, the audio, the visual and the tactile.

What is it about this time in February that gets me sick. My two bouts of the flu occurred in February (2000 and 2002). Both of those times I was bed ridden, sweaty and felt like crap. At least in 2002, I had Olympic hockey to watch. I am not stay at home sick, at least not yet. I know that you all care so damn much about this.

As I look back, I recall that this time of year, at least while in undergrad, was Reading Week or near Reading Week. During my first year, it was Reading Week, the middle of it. The next year, it was a Friday and I blew off the day (I only had one class-Organic Chemistry at noon) as I went down to Florida with Willie. We had a 7 am flight. I was working on no sleep, kind of like now. The best part was when the stewardess, flight attendant, waitress in the sky, asked if we wanted a drink. It was Wardair and the airlines had not figured out that they could cheap out and get you to overpay for booze. I thought it odd as it was about 9:30 am at the time. In fact, I said so, but the stewardess was insistent. She hit us with logic. Her reasoning was that we were up around five. Normally, we would be up around noon. By her logic, it was the equivalent of 4:30 pm, so I had a double. Nothing like picking up your rental car, a red Dodge Laser, while in the midst of an alcohol buzz. I loved those days of recklesness. What the hell happened to me/us? Damn that aging and maturing! Well, for me it is aging without the maturing.

On that happy note, I will leave you to cough up a lung. Ciao!

Valentine's Day Thought

I am back. This will be short. I said yesterday that I had a memory to share about Valentine's Day past. The year was 1990 and the day also fell on a Wednesday. It was doubly exciting to me as I was supposed to go to Chicago the next day for a weekend visit with a good friend of mine who was in school there. Anyway, it was a typical Wednesday, only it was Valentine's Day.

I have always been uncomfortable on this date. If I was not seeing somebody, it was always sort of thrown in your face with all the advertising and such. It was worse when I was seeing somebody. I never knew what to buy or how to act on this day. I have disappointed too many feminitas on this day. When in doubt, do nothing--should be my motto. And I have paid a price for that one, I will tell you.

Anyway, at the time, I was working and really could not be bothered with Valentine's Day. I know I got the Wife a card, but I had not got her a gift. I thought a picture frame would be nice, but when I gave it to her that evening, I got a lot of shit for that one. It was "thoughtless", which I guess it was. She never knew about my discomfort with this day that continues today.

We fought and made up. Went for dinner and came back to my place. She was going to drive me to the airport the next afternoon, but I got a message from my friend that Chicago had been hit with a wicked snowstorm. We were next, apparently. We were.

I woke up and it was snowing. To make a long story short, numerous calls to the airport later, and my flight was cancelled. I would fly out on the Friday, a day late. The worst part is that my friend was able to get Leaf-Blackhawk hockey tickets for the game in the old Chicago Stadium. Needless to say, I did not make the game and arrived around five (local time) Friday afternoon, after a long delay. It was a fun weekend though.

That one had me drinking too much and eventually puking on Belmont Avenue in Chicag0. I can alos tell you that the texture of the shrimp from the shrimp fajitas we had at El Jardin was the same, going down and coming back up. I guess after 17 years Belmont is now clean to walk on.

Ciao! and Happy Valentine's Day to one and all!

Dollar coins

I am back. I had a Valentine's Day memory to share with you all but I may do it tomorrow. It is fitting as the memory in question occurred when Valentine's Day fell on a Wednesday. In any event, I have something new.

Apparently, the Americans are looking to replace their one dollar bill with a coin. We have had that in Canada since 1987. It does devalue the dollar as it becomes just more "change" or something to fall through your pockets. However, the cost of making them and their longer lives, metal is more durable than paper, means that it makes sense economically. Hell, the cost of a penny is greater than it's face value, so go figure that one.

Anyway, there is a lot of resistance to making this change amongst Americans polled. Again, I do understand why. The thing that got me thinking is that what will happen in strip bars. I mean a wad of dollar bills can go a long way for both the girls and the patrons. A garter or sock can hold an awful lot of dollar bills. The girls do have a handy, and attached, coin slot, er, slit, but I am not sure they will want their cold cash going there directly.

That was just the image that I had. Any comments out there? Ciao!

Not much to say

I am back. Early, but back. The weekend went much like expected. Full out Outlaw assault. It was not the worst thing in the world and I have lived to tell. My father in law was not great. It is the sameness of the questions and actions that gets me. At his place, he was fine. Away, he was not so fine. He pushed to leave early last night by saying he had a customer coming early in the morning. Who was he fooling? He has no customer coming this morning. Whatever!

Beyond that, it was a not so cold weekend. The deep freeze is apparently back tomorrow, so we or at least I, have that to look forward to. All right, really cold February temperatures, who would have thought that?

I think that I just wanted to post this morning. I really have not much that is amusing going on in my brain, so let me say stay warm.

Ciao!

Booze tales

I am back. I just wanted to wish one and all a fine weekend. I know that this is supposed to be the weekend of the extended Outlaw visits. It is dinner with the Outlaws, an aunt, uncle and cousins of the Wife tonight. Given that I do not have to see these people weekly, I can handle one evening. Besides, I like the cousins. In fact, one is moving to New York this week and that is the reason for the dinner. We will be going to that aunt and uncle's for a going away dinner party on Sunday. Yippee! I get to see them all again and hear the same shit.

Tomorrow the other aunt is having an open house as her daughter and grandchildren are in from New York. I do not think the husband is appearing. That is okay, because I will not be there. In fact, the Lad tried to beg off this one, but the Wife will not let him. Sucker!!

That is cool as I have stuff to do and will have the time to do it in the afternoon without family around. I think the major one will be trying to see if I can polish a bottle of gin, on my own, with nobody around. I was once good at doing that with Lemon Gin (the most vile substance known to man).

Here is the story. Back in high school, I looked old for my age. Two friends and myself would hit the local liquor store and buy a mickey of Lemon Gin. I do not know why we chose that but we did. We would also buy a bottle of soda water to mix with the Lemon Gin. It was then time for bar in the car. I would, being the responsible son of pharmacists, do the mixing (and usually the driving--this was 1983 when drinking and driving was not only not discouraged but actually encouraged, and we did-I am not proud, but it is reality). The three of us would polish off the 12oz of booze and off we would go. I am not quite sure where we would go, at least I do not remember (alcohol does not affect memory).

Anyway, one of the dudes went down to Florida over Christmas. It was just the two of us and Christmas Eve fell on a Friday. I figured we needed (there is a strange word there) enough for the long weekend. We bought a 26oz bottle and figured we were good. Son of a bitch! We polished that puppy up on the Friday evening. It was then I realized I had a problem. If I could equally share a large bottle of booze in an evening, not puke and wake up the next morning without a hangover, I was either some kind of superhuman or well on my way to liver disease and death. The jury is still out on that one, but I am here.

I got us home and did not hit a thing. Thankfully. I guess I grew up because I do not do shit like that or drink shit like that anymore. I am now thinking that there is nothing funny about that story, but then again I was young and foolish. Now I am just old with a bit of foolishness left. We'll see where that gets me....the morgue, perhaps. Okay, go have a weekend, remember me while you are enjoying yourselves and know that I will be back, hopefully with funny stories to tell. Ciao!

A little early morning reading

I am back. I am still pissed with Rogers Cable. But revenge is a dish best served cold. They will get theirs when the time is right. I caught a headline this morning. Some dude was arrested for public nudity and marijuana possession as he rode a ski lift naked. It was a gondola, but even so. He obviously never saw the Seinfeld episode about "shrinkage". I give the guy credit. You get naked in this cold and do not care about the draining of blood from the extremities, so that it looks like a frightened turtle. That my friends is confidence!

That is all I have to say for now. I may be back later. Ciao!

Fuck You, Rogers Cable!

I am back. I am sorry that I have left you high and dry for the past few days but there has been nothing new to report. Even when I had something new, I did not write it down when it occurred so those thoughts have vanished into the ethers. What can you do?

As for Friday night dinner, nothing out of the ordinary happened. It was the same comments about the television picture, of course, but other than that I did not really "hang" with the Outlaws. Wasn't that an interesting tale?

Now you see why I have not posted for a few days. The muse has obviously not been speaking to me. In fact, I cannot find her anywhere. I will post a reward for the whereabouts of my muse. I need her to write or at least be funny. Now, I am just a humorless curmudgeon. Otherwise, I am a curmudgeon full of humor. What a sight that is!

Oh yeah, I feel a rant coming on. My cable provider, Rogers fucking Cable, has made "improvements" for my benefit. They have added AMC, TNT Classics, BBC World. They have also upped my bill. Now, in adding those channels they have removed CNBC, CNN Headline and Speed. Now, I do not care about CNN Headline, though I will not be seeing anymore of that, er cunt, Nancy Grace and I do not care about Speed. CNBC I do not want to give up. I like that channel.

I called to ask about that. I got the canned response about more movie channels and other bullshit. When I asked what criteria they used to decide what to move, I was told it was a matter of viewership. I was not given the data. I also find it funny that BET and Outdoor Life were not touched. Now, Rogers owns Outdoor Life so heaven forbid that would not be touched. But BET???!!!! What the fuck!

Then I am told that for 8 bucks a month I could have Rogers VIP and get CNBC. So as I see it, I am told that the "improvements" were made for my benefit. And that benefit is worth an additional $8/month and rental of a digital box according to the Customer Service Rep at Rogers. How can it be an improvement on my behalf when I was not consulted in any way shape or form? The fucking oligarchical, or is that really monopolistic, cable company. They can all go rot in fucking hell!

It makes me glad that I switched my phone and ISP provider from Rogers. When they finally get me to ask why I changed, I can tell them that this is my bundle. You take what I want in an arbitrary fashion, charge outrageous fees for cable and internet and wireless, show me nothing as a long time customer and you want to know why. It is almost enough to make me want to steal cable.

Fuck Rogers! If I could change my cable/satellite for my television to something other than another cable company (Star Choice) or Bell (Expressvue), I would do it in a second. See what I mean about an oligarchy in this country. It is good to know that the CRTC and Competition Committees in this country look out for consumers. Fuck it all!

That is all. Nothing funny about that. Where is Maria Bartiromo and Cramer now that I need them? Ciao!

Birthday Greetings, Groundhog Day and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

I am back. Before I begin, I have to get something out of the way. I must wish my friend David, who now lives in San Francisco a very happy birthday today. He is a groundhog. Speaking of which, tonight is the night that I have live my own version of "Groundhog Day" when I go to the Outlaws' for dinner. I am telling you, I hear the same questions and comments each fucking time.

I forgot to mention that last week, after dinner, I go into the den. As usual, my father in law makes the same comment about the television. "I can't get over how clear that picture is." I am sure I will hear it again tonight. Anyway, I go in, only to find him watching television. He seems engrossed in what he is watching (the Lad and I wanted to put on the Raptor game). He is watching "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles". What the fuck!

When the Lad slept over there a month or so ago, he groussed about how the Lad was almost a man (again, I say "what the fuck!") and should not be watching cartoons. Here he is watching a cartoon, a pretty crappy one at that. So I am guessing by his definition real men only watch crappy cartoons. If it is funny, which involves some thought and an ability to process context and information, then it is unmanly. Therefore, the demented are all manly and those whose memories work are girly men.

Wonders in my world never cease. This week I am bringing my running shoes. I can shoot some hoops with the Lad and avoid sitting too long listening to the same fucking questions I answered last week, and the week before and the week before, and so on and so on. Enough about that. I could tell the Wife about all this, but it only upsets her. I understand that, but it does not make the watching of "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles" any less annoying. I did get the Lad to ask him if we could change the channel and put on the Raptor game. To which we got a "yes" and a short lesson in how to work the remote. (I think the Lad rolled his eyes at that one, too, rightly so).

I wish I had more to report. I could do my World is going to hell in a handbasket screed, but I will let you all enjoy the weekend. Ciao!

January IS the cruelest month

I am back. A happy February to one and all! I have always found February to be a "better" month for me than January. Perhaps, it is because I no longer confuse the year. By February, we are already well into the new year. I do not think that is why. I mean do I really care if I flub the year? No.

In all my life, I think that I can only recall a single fond January memory. That would be the 1997 birth of the Lad. His birthday is nice and all, but it is not as monumental, to me, as his actual birth (I am still recovering from the sight of that thing. I think it was a wise choice that I never became a butcher.). My grandfather died at the end of January back in 1976. My uncle died around the same time back in 1980. I truly believed there was a pattern here. I was figuring that my other uncle was due to expire at the end of January, 1984. I told my father that I saw the pattern, he thought me morbid and sick. I told my mother and she thought the same thing. There you have it, I am morbid and sick.

By the way, the uncle I figured was a goner in 1984, is still with us. He does not say much to me, though. Then again, he never did. He did say he liked my brother best. We have it on my brother's wedding video. That says it all. Or does it? This is the uncle that when my father lay in his hospital bed the day before his death, when he was partly somewhere else and yet very funny, and my father saw him, my father said to me, "Why don't you mix, H, a drink?" This is because my uncle is always drinking rum and diet coke. Every time he comes to my mother's, it is known that somebody (me) should fix him a drink. Then he sits there in silence. I guess that is who he is.

I am thinking that as the type of guy who likes to dip his toe in the water, January is just strange to me. The beginning of a new year, I can only dip my toe in the year. I guess I do not get used to the new year until February. I think I was like that with school, with me feeling a bit discombobulated in September, but by October, I am used to things. I guess I just need to find my equilibrium.

My uncle and grandfather dying in January did make those odd leap years. Both were rather sad events in my life. I had a premonition of my grandfather's death. He and my grandmother were over at our house that Friday morning before I went to school (January 30, 1976-I was in grade six). I am not sure why, perhaps my brother was home sick or something. I was not coming home for lunch that day. It was my treat to go with a friend to the Dominion grocery store at the local plaza for a hot dog and orange drink. I recall looking at my grandfather and thinking that this will be the last time that I see him. Then I shrugged my shoulders and went off to school.

I came home at three thirty, only to be greeted at the door by my father. That is odd as he was never home at that time of the day. He says, "We have run into a bit of a problem." Note, how he tries to soften the blow. Problem implies something that can be fixed. Death is rather permanent. This is no fixing that. I guess the living can at least get on with living after some grieving time, but "problem", thanks for the understatement, dad. "..(grandfather) passed away", he continued.

There was stunned silence on my part. I took a bit of a walk and braced myself for what I was about to witness. I do not recall my mother. I do recall my grandmother bawling her eyes out on the couch. I had never seen her that I way and did not like what I saw. My uncle had not arrived from British Columbia at that time. I could not figure out all of the crying at that point. My thinking was that none of those tears were going to bring him back. I now understand it as sadness for losing a loved one. It was not crying and praying to bring him back, but praying and crying because of a sense of grief and loss. I was a dumb kid. I had the mechanics and notions of death down, not the emotions. I was sort of like a death-autistic child.

Well, I am done with this as I am done with January. It is February and the best is yet to come! Ciao!