Cut off by a scooter?

I am back. I know that I have been rather sporadic with my posts lately. Too bad. Besides, I have an email from over a month ago from a friend that I have yet to respond. It is Facebook-y so that may explain my reticence. That, and I do like to use the word "reticence".

I do have to say that we had a beautiful weekend around these parts. Well, it was beautiful if you ignore the deluge of cold, hard rain through the Saturday overnight and into early Sunday afternoon. After that it was Saul Goode. Friday and Saturday were just fantastic.

I was coming home on Friday, around six, coming down a residential street with a sidewalk, I might add, when I was cut off by a woman on a scooter. Not a vespa-type scooter, mind you, one of those for people with trouble walking (or too fat to have their joints carry around their obese frame as they try to hit the "all you can eat" buffet). She was covered in a blanket with just her head exposed to air, like she was just a head. The sidewalk is clear and she is on the road with a parked car in front of her. I am about to pass the parked car, parked illegally too, when she darts, if you can call that "super-sonic" speed a "dart", into my lane and in front of my car.

It is not enough that able bodied pedestrians seem to feel that they can "count" on me protecting them from harm as they jaywalk or dart out from in between parked cars, now those less able bodied are thinking that way???!!!!! This woman obviously does not know me. I feel no need to be her saviour or anything approximating that. If you cannot obey the rules of the road, or at least those necessary for self-preservation, fuck you, I have no sympathy as to what befalls you. It is pure Darwinian evolution.

If you can, or better if the stupid do their stupidity before they breed, then the stupid genes do not get passed on, or at least one set of them. We would all be better off with that. Of course, that is not how our nanny-state society works. We make laws to protect the stupid, so that they my create more stupid people, who go on to elect even more stupid, but clever (it really is not a contradiction) politicians. They are smart enough to have a sense of self-interest and to put it above all else, yet cloak it in terms of "public interest". The funny part, is that they do not want any debate on those issues and do not countenance any dissension. Does this sound like our windbag, dumb-ass mayor, David Miller? He is just a great example of this and the citizens of Toronto who voted for him (never have, never will) are great examples of the vapid leading the stupid.

I am digressing. The point of all this is to say....lady, if you are on your scooter and you feel the need to avoid the sidewalk and dart into on coming traffic without looking or even fucking signalling, then do not be upset if I send you flying. It would be inevitable accident and I would be doing the Lord's work--reuniting him with you.

Ciao!

Belinda Carlise and a case of Camel Toe

I am back. As you can tell, the muse has been silent lately. I did have something to say, though. It was about "Dancing with the Stars". You know how I feel about that show. Ever since they had Heather Mills on it, I could not go anywhere near it. I defy anybody to prove to me that she would meet the definition, regardless of how wide, of "star". As I said, she had a star in her, but that does not a star make. It just makes a receptacle for star splooge, but not much more.

I noticed that Belinda Carlise, ex lead singer of the Go-Gos, was on. She was something in the early 80s, in that California sort of way. She always seemed rather wholesome but she was anything but. Those Go-Gos chicks sure partied hard and she herself was a heroin addict.

Anyway, she gets voted off a couple of weeks ago. I saw part of the routine. Now, keep in mind that she is 50, which really is not all that old. However, she did this hand stand thing with her legs spread like a "V". There I saw it, 50 year old camel-toe. I did not need to see that.

Then again, I wonder if it were 20 or 30 year old camel-toe, would I have thought it just as funny. Then again, back in the Dominican, I did enjoy seeing the 20-something German girl and her camel-toe on the beach. Of course, I got to see her tits, too, unless she was going for a dip in the ocean, in which case her top was put on. I guess sea-water is abrasive to the nipples and other sensitive bits. What do I know?

That is it, just wanted to comment on Belinda Carlise's camel-toe. Ciao!

Post St. Patrick Day Rant

I am back. I have been remiss in posting this week. I should have posted on Tuesday with a St. Patrick's Day post. I should have posted yesterday with a post-St. Patrick's Day roundup. That is where we stand. The post St. Patrick's Day recap.

It was not pleasant. Well, it was pleasant enough on Tuesday. The green beer, the corned beef and cabbage, where was there to be a problem. It was all great going down. Why did I not see the consequences of all that? I was pretending to be Irish, and look what it got me.

It is no fun, I repeat no fun, to puke up piles of green. Fucking green beer and over drinking! So come Wednesday, we were assaulted by the sight and smell of piles of green puke. There was that stink to deal with, then the stink to come.

After trying to stir from the bed and catching a whiff and sight of what needed to be cleaned, the corned beef and cabbage started to stir. I am not sure there is anything worse than corned beef and cabbage farts...oh yeah, add that to the smell of puke (aged about 6 or 7 hours).

It was one big putrid reek-o-rama. The visual was bad enough but the olfactory was sublime. The only thing worse would have been crawling up my own ass with a dead and rotting goat. Do you get the picture....or at least the scent. If you find yourself with dry heaves, then you have got it. If not, you are missing something brilliant.

I am feeling better now, so obviously, that passed. It is all clean and the stink does not seem to be lingering, so maybe next year, I give up the notion that I am Irish and just sit St. Patrick's Day out. Then again, there is always next year.

Ciao!

Another March 13th thought

I am back. In my "head full of snot" ways at the end of last week, I also forgot WHAT I was going to post on Friday March 13th. I know I posted on the 14th with some symmetry of me being ill on the same date in 1987. That was true but it did not have the deeper meaning of what I am about to write. There may actually be no deeper meaning but what do I know.

March 13, 2009 would have been "DEd"'s 45th birthday. Now, "DEd" has been dead for just over 10 years. He took his own life at the age of 34, about 4 months shy of his 35th birthday. I know that I have written about "DEd" before. He was a guy with whom I was friends in high school. In our first year university, I was still friendly with him but by the end of that year, I had trouble being around him for any length of time.

I had first met "DEd" when we all tried out for, and made, our high school basketball team. I had another friend who deserved to have made the team, but did not, more than "DEd". I cannot say that I ever held that against "DEd" but I was not over friendly with him that year. The next year, we had the same English teacher, the only one that I did not "get" me and the only one that I could not stand. He would torment her and I notice he had a quick a wit and was great with an insult. We started hanging out in grade 11.

After spending some time with him during the summer of 1981, I realized that I could only tolerate him in small doses. I could never pinpoint what it was that bothered me, but I did find that he nattered on and asked an incessant number of questions. At one point that summer, he, NG now NR, and I tried to "sneak" into a local seedy strip bar. He got carded and we had to leave. Jump ahead two weeks and NG and the good doctor tried again and were served, so we spent an evening among the ladies in their g-strings (there was no full nudity of strippers in Toronto in those days--for that you had to head to the airport or up to Vaughan, which was also done, but this place was so much more convenient).

By the end of the summer, I could not handle hanging with him and would do all that I could not to hang with him. The next two years of school and summers, we saw each other intermittently, but again, I could only handle small doses. By the end of high school, the summer of 1983, I did hang with him by going to parties with him and his neighbour (she was kind of hot and was about 5 years older than us, so that was cool and allure for me). Early in university, I did hang with him on weekends a bit, but then I joined the frat. I found a whole bunch of cool guys and was hanging with them where possible (did not have to deal with the endless and pointless chatter and questions).

I had also struck up a friendship with another person who had something that kept me coming back, like a moth to a flame. I always felt energized around this person. I always felt drained by "DEd" and not in a good way (which would be very gay, but considering the next part of the story makes that statement even more gay, so do not take it literally, it was drained in an emotional/energy sort of way). I suddenly found myself with the choice of hanging with somebody who made me feel energized or somebody who brought me down.....hmmmmm.....how do I make that choice.

The big problem, at the time, is that I would go to grab a sauna and shower on a Saturday and see "DEd", doing the same, at Mayfair. I am sure he could not understand why I would not spend time with him but had not trouble doing that with somebody else. Again, I was too sensitive to hurting him by telling him the truth, so I said nothing, which in retrospect was probably a worse way to go in terms of the hurt caused the dude. Anyway, I found myself putting off plans with him during the summer of 1984 and when I had, which was about once a month, I would choose a movie so that at least I would get about 2 hours of silence. I did not care if I had to see a movie again, good or bad, just to do my "duty" in the most cowardly way.

It was the choice of being around somebody who was positive and saw life as great by and large and somebody who was negative and just cast a pall over everything that life had to offer. To me there was no choice but no way to really verbalize it in a way that did not make me look shallow or an asshole. Then again, it was and is my life and I can choose how I want to feel.

Anyway, "DEd" comes out to me, but by this time, I realize that I want little to do with him because he is so damn negative. That he was gay made no difference to me. We jump ahead a number of years and "DEd" has a long time boyfriend. They get jumped in the gay area of town and have the crap beat out of them. To his credit, "DEd" was not the victim. He fought back and stood up to his cowardly, probably latent homosexuals from Hamilton, assailants in court.

"DEd" gave up his practice of dentistry to be a stand up comedian in the 1990s. It all made sense, considering how miserable that stand up comics tend to be (see Tom Hanks in "Punchline"). I am not sure how funny his material was, I never went to see him. I got a call in early November of 1998, from NG/R who had just gotten married and is now going through the divorce from hell, which makes sense as he made the psycho-hosebeast from hell, that "DEd" was dead and that he had killed himself.

Apparently, he and the boyfriend were in the midst of a messy break-up. As they were living together, the boyfriend went out. He came home to find "DEd" dead in front of the television with a camcorder on. The "sensitive" man taped himself taking his life (I think he injected air into his veins, though I am not too sure) so that his soon to be exboyfriend would find him, put on the machine and watch as he tries to lay on the guilt while he dies. His final moments were spent not taking responsibility for his own feelings and actions but trying to lay the responsibility of why he would no longer live at the feet of another.

Again, it merely proved my assertion that he was negative and a downer. What a sad way to prove me correct. I have said that I regret not telling him that and really letting him know how I felt. Again, I do not who would have been better for that exchange, I am pretty sure it would not have been him considering the circumstances of his suicide. No sense trying to learn from experience.

Well, that is it, I just wanted to at least acknowledge "DEd" on what would have been his 45th birthday. Not quite sure why I wanted to do that, but it did come to mind. Ciao!

It was another Friday the 13th

I am back. I actually forgot to post yesterday, so this is actually yesterday's intended post.

There must be something in the air on this (that) Friday the 13th of March. I have a fucking head cold. I am pissed off about it. On Wednesday, I had a shitty sleep. I pick up the Lad and he is complaining about not feeling well. The Wife has a similar issue. I am sitting with the two of them wondering if the achy feeling I have is illness or fatigue.

Thursday, it was apparent it was illness. I felt all stuffed up with a hint of achiness. The Lad went to school but if he was not feeling well, he did have those glassy eyes (I think he actually stole the one from either Sandy Duncan or Peter Falk, I am not sure how he did but I would not put it past him), so he went to school, but I was expecting the call to come get him. It did not arrive but he did look a bit pasty when I picked him up in the afternoon.

I did not feel so good yesterday. I am a bit better today. I did have a good night's sleep last night. That is not the funny thing. It is this. I recall that back in 1987, ancient times, we had back to back Friday the 13ths (also February and March). I was sick on both of those days with much that I have now. Go figure.

Back then, I did go out on the Friday but not before a stop at Mayfair and an attempt to clear my head and sweat out my illness in the sauna. I was back there yesterday in the steam hoping for at least some temporary relief, which I received.

I just find that it bookends nicely. Now March Break is upon us and the Lad will be about all this week. He has taken to lounging and I found that I did the same at his age (from about Junior High on I did not mind sleeping in and vegging during the holidays....I would do the same during Reading Week, too).

Well, enjoy the remainder of the weekend, it is supposed to be beautiful around these parts, so I may just take advantage of the mild temperatures and sunny days and enjoy the outdoors. Ciao!

What a douche!

I am back. I have noticed that the word "douche" seems to have made a comeback. Maybe it never went away, but there was a good twenty years there where I do not recall it being uttered. That is not fully true. I would use the word in the 80s but I am an exception and just insane. Besides, it was usually used for shock value.

Here is the context. During the 80s, I took a dislike to vinegar, especially white vinegar. I do not mind rice wine vinegar, balsamic vinegar, sherry vinegar, champagne vinegar, etc., though I tend to use lemon or lime juice as my acid for a salad dressing (that is just me). Whenever somebody asked me, usually female, if I wanted vinegar, my reply would inevitably be "I refuse to eat something a woman would douche with". Yup, the old vinegar and water douche turned me off putting vinegar on my French fries.

It did offend many a person. That was a good enough reason to keep repeating it.

I have been watching television and keep hearing the word "douche" an awful lot in prime time. It has been used on "Family Guy" with Brian and Stewie saying it and "The Office" to name but two shows.

Again, I was brought back to the late 70s and early 80s, while working at the drug store. Do you recall the commercials, in primetime, for Massengill disposable douche. I sure do. It really was brought home to me when I was stocking the store shelf with Massengill disposable douche. Was it just a 70s thing?

Also on the shelf were a few cans of FDS-feminine deodorant spray. That was another vestige of the 70s. I am not sure what that says about the times. I am thinking there was a lot of so called "pussy stink" among the ladies during that time. Maybe it was caused by a combination of heavy pubic bush (see late 70s porn for that), nylons (they do not breathe or allow the pussy to breathe) and tight spandex or denim pants. Perhaps the 70s, the disco era, was an era of yeast infections, vaginosis and vaginitis leading to "feminine" odor that needed to be masked by FDS and the need to clean the cooze with some sort of douche.

For me it was a time of young adolescent sex and pussy. I was so happy to be feeling/petting one that odor was not a consideration for me.

Then again, perhaps, the products were designed by men who thought that the natural scent of a woman was offensive. Could be that the bright minds at Proctor and Gamble or other consumer product company had to move this crap, so the marketers set out to create the need by trying to convince women, and their men, that their pussies gave off some sort of offensive odor. It may have all been a plot perpetrated by the patriarchy to keep women down by making them think that their natural scents were something to be embarrassed about and that they should feel shame to have a pussy, especially one that had some sort of scent.

Again, I do not recall anybody buying either the FDS or the Massengill douches at the store. Then again, I would see them, think about what they were for, how they were used and giggle. Much the same way I would do with the condoms. (C'mon I was 13 or 14 at the time, so the concept of sexuality was being interpretted by an awkward teen going through puberty),

It is funny how times have changed. I do not recall seeing any ads for FDS or those douches in a long while. Women today have taken control of their sexuality, by and large, and will not have it dictated to them by older Mad Men. Their pussies smell like pussies and that is how they are supposed to smell. Unless of course, it is scent of the sea, well the sea where the fish are washing up dead, in which case it is get thee to the doctor for a swab and a prescription for some Flagyl or get some Monistat or Canesten. In which case, it is a quick trip to the "cunt cupboard".

At that point, it is a passing incident where the normal vaginal life is out of balance. Then again, if the woman in you life has burning "down there" and her only relief is repeatedly sliding down the bannister, then get thee to the "cunt cupboard" and get her some Canesten Cream. She will thank you.

Avoid the FDS, if they still make and market it, because at that point it is like a putting an airwick in a sewer.

I am not sure where I was going with this. It is funny that "douche" has taken me to the 70s and a marketer creating a "need" or problem of "feminine odor" that was really only a "problem" to sell shit that was really unnecessary. How feminine, and even manscaping, styles went from a celebration of pubic hair, groomed but abundant, to a cleaner look (shaving the lips if not the whole pubic area). And it brought me right back to the "cunt cupboard". I am not sure if I am profound, profane, cogent or just insane.

Maybe, television is my muse. Maybe, feminine products are my muse. Maybe, my muse lies at the point where feminine hygeine and television meet. Now, that is strange. Ciao!

A weekend away

I am back. To think that I did not post on Friday. Oh well, I really had nothing to say. We were having guests for dinner, well not really guests, per se, the (un)usual cast of characters that make up my, actually the Wife's, family. We had her aunt, uncle and brother over for dinner.

It was an uneventful meal. Rather boring, I would say.

The weekend was also uneventful. Rather boring, I would say. It was very mild outside but it did tend to rain, so there were no outdoor activities to be had.

I miss basketball. Not my own game, which continues each Tuesday, but the Lad's games. I really did enjoy coaching him. It was no different than when I was not coaching. I would hang by the bench/dugout and provide encouragement and advice (in game) to the Lad. I would not yell at him and I would get him to see the larger view of success. I tried not to let him allow himself to be discouraged by in game mistakes (missed shots in basketball or hitting into outs in baseball). He seems to have taken to that, or so I say.

I try not to break his confidence. I do not want him to dwell on the mistakes, just learn from them and use them to motivate himself to do better the next time. I do not want him to "dwell" on his successes either. In sports, you have to live in the present. Take the past successes and failures and use them to create successes in the present.

Well, that is it for my weekend roundup. Not much to say. Ciao!

A Crazy Thought

I am back. It is my aunt's birthday today, so happy 76th to you.

I have been a bit remiss in posting this week. I do have things to say. I have been running around with this computer issue. I need software from my brother in law (not a problem) and I need somebody to retrieve my files from my old hard drive. I tried using a device to do just that but the thing would not read the hard drive.

I took it to a low level computer place and the dude could not crack it either. It would turn/run but not show up using his software. I will have to ask my sister who she used. I just want my files, MUSIC and the photos. There were not many. I do want the files, though.

Such is life in a technological age. Now, I will have to get an external hard drive or two and back up all that data daily. I may become back up paranoid. Lessen learned, but it seems so much for the notion of running the recovery discs on the old hard drive and potentially have two laptops around the house. That laptop is still a better (faster and larger storage) computer than this desktop. The desktop had not been used in years, I would think.

Enough about that, how are y'all doing? It is March and we may be witnessing signs of spring with really mild temperatures tomorrow. Then again, I can recall being in Kentucky around this time in 1994, and it being a beautiful, sunny day. It was mild and in the low 70s. That was during the day in Lexington. By the time we crossed the border, later the same day, it had dropped to below 30. When I arrived home, it was to a cold and windy Saturday. That is March, unseasonably warm one day and uncomfortably cold the next. Let's hop on this weather rollercoaster.

Fuck, we turn the clocks ahead on Saturday. I know that it will darker later but I really do not like that first Sunday. I cannot afford the loss of an hour's sleep. Oh well, just have to deal with it. No biggie, really. At least, it will remain dark when I get up at 6am. I like getting up in the dark. Then again, I like getting up in the light of summer, too, so I guess I just like getting up, or waking up. I find it a great way to start the day. Call me crazy.

Ciao!

Computer Follies

I am back. I hope y'all had a good weekend. I had an expensive one, though things have changed. My 5 year old laptop, with keys that were losing their punch, died. I had to go out and buy a new one.

Without going into the excruciating details of the purchase, suffice to say I am working on it now. I found my bill from 5 years ago. I paid over two times as much for a heavier, slower computer with one sixth the memory. I paid $1,600 for my last laptop and this one was under $700 and is much more robust and faster.

The big need right now is to get all of my files including my music, off the old hard drive and on to this computer. I will have to look into that tomorrow, but I do want my music. I am thinking that if I can find the proper enclosure I should be able to transfer the files myself. I could then put the hard drive back into the old laptop, run the recovery disks and I may have a ``clean`` 40GB laptop for the lad to use as his own.

I have had to use our old desktop. It is a Pentium 3 with 6GB of hard drive memory. It is damn slow, but at least it works and did the trick. I may need a new printer as the laser printer that we have connects via serial port, which was fine for my old laptop, but not this one.

I hope you have enjoyed that one. I am telling you, the computer was slow but worked fine on Saturday. I was listening to music and surfing the web as per usual. Come Sunday morning, the Wife could not get the computer to boot up in the morning. I thought that I had it but it reverted to blackness.

After 5 years, it owes me nothing. Well, that was the weekend highlight. That was the way to end February and begin March. Ciao!