The Game is Dead to Me

I had read my friend Parkers post the other day about his favorite poker moments in the shed. For those of you who don't know what the shed was, it was a 14X8 foot sorry excuse for a building that housed the greatest poker moments of my life. The inside walls were covered in plywood, with playing cards stapled around the 3 windows. It was cold as hell in the winter, but we had Mr. Heater to keep as warm, and almost make us unconscious from his toxic fumes. We would smoke cigars until we had to open the door to vent the cloud.

In this reminisce about the shed it dawned on me that my favorite poker memories have nothing to do with the hands that were played, but the guys that I was playing them with. We once had a guy who had been grazed by a bullet show up for poker. And people sell books so they could play. We started everynight with Hank Williams Jr. On vinyl of course. We had characters there, guys you could set your watch to. Guys you could count on. We were poker before poker was cool. And all we had was an extention cord from the house and a light clamped to a 2X4 beam.

I write this to say I now know why the game holds no magic for me any more. The characters are gone.

So goodbye Pegg, goodbye Masterson, Parker, Corey, The Janey, Patrick, Furey, Samwise, River Phoenix, Skinner, Shane, and any other poor sucker we let in that joint.

Most of all goodbye poker...You are dead to me.

A PAIN IN THE FOOT

OK... We have all stubbed our toes before. I am not talking about the dingger, I talking about the kind where if your foot would have followed through on it's course you would have kicked a 45 yard field goal. The pain is so instantaneous that it feels like it was staging a preemptive strike on your nervous system. Like there are sensors down there that alert the brain to the certain dome of your big toe.
I want to talk about the worst two types of kicks and the natural reaction.

The first one is the "your moving quickly almost running and you just smash any of your toes into something low" This I believe is the most common and generally draws the common reaction which is to fall down or hop to something to fall down on, then you just hold it and try and pretend the pain away.

The second is what I feel is the worst. You again are moving quickly when you come in contact with a firm stationary object. But when you drop kick that mother your toes split on the object. Causing you to think of childbirthing, and that you COULD handle that pain,but this...this is just too much. The reaction to this is sometimes the drop, you know what I mean. Or my personal preference is the runaway. Where you take off from the scene of the crime like a felon hoping that the pain will be left behind. But alas it is not, which is why you spend the next five minutes staring at your toe,wondering if you could exist without it.

I often wonder why there is so much feeling in that part of the body, like a little nerve bank down there. Like all the nervous that should have been in your elbow skin and scalp are all down there in the very tip of your big and little toe.

For Your Amusement

Sometimes funny things don't happen to me, which in turn makes it difficult to write funny things down. Which is something that I like to do. I like to make people laugh, at almost any expense.
So I have tried to fill those droughts of hilarity with thoughts I've had or something that I've worked on. But alas that went over like a led balloon. I have discovered that I am here for your amusement. And the funny thing is that it's a cage that I have created. I need your laughs so bad that I can't stand to disappoint. And this is not just here on this blog, but everywhere. I need accolades like nobody's business.
But I have preconditioned everyone around me to think I am joking 100% of the time. So if you don't like something that I did in all seriousness I can say ohhh I was just joking. So I have decided to not worry so much if you like what I write or make. It's for me anyway...

...Well that's not true either.

quick somebody laugh, I think I'm gonna cry.

The Boys

I have always been a pretty self-centered guy.
But there are two dudes that I don't mind waking me up at 5.
Don't mind them accidentally jumping on my balls.
Don't mind watching public TV with.
Don't mind washing their hair.
cleaning up their puke.
Don't mind after a long day, carrying them up 2 flights of stairs to bed.
Don't mind watching my mouth.
Don't mind not playing poker to play Hi-Ho-Cherrio.
Don't mind when they jump on my bed.
Don't mind buying a car I don't want.
Nope, those 2 dudes can have everything I've got.

Isn't That Precious!

Well something just dawned on me last night as I was walking into my sons Thanksgiving "performance".
Actually more than one thing, but this is where I will start.
I am destined due to having 2 spawn that I will be going to these shody half ass dog and pony shows for quite some time. I figure once they are older these will be better, just because that's all the hope I have right now.
Then I starting thinking. What the crap is all this. Last week at church the same thing. The little kids went upfront and did some sort of song and dance that made me want to smash my forehead with a hammer. I realized though that I might have been the only one. Because when the "show" was over people were clapping.
Now I understand that the kids need to be encouraged and all that, I mean I clap for speech's at weddings too, but I didn't listen to a word that guy said, I was more glad it was over.
So here is my firm belief. We just like seeing little kids do stuff. Simply because they are cute. There is definitely something about little cute things that allow us to over look the fact that we are only being entertained because we know one of the rug rats on stage.
Look at Webster the TV show, I mean come on. Or the munchkins in The Wizard of Oz. Or puppies for crying outloud. They can crap right ontop of your face and you would take a picture because it's cute. If that happened 6 months later you would be digging a shallow grave under the flower bed.
So thanks Mrs. First grade teacher for your riveting rendition of pop goes the weasel. I'm sure it was much more important than Math, and my Tuesday night.

Artsy Fartsy

Let me know what you think.
Good or Bad I don't care.
My mom did it so you will only be hurting her.

Take Back The Stall

I read my friend Sams blog today about his issues with pooping in public. I can identify with some of his problems, while some make me feel that counseling would be in order. The main fear that I have is that awkwardness of sitting feet from someone while you both are pumping grumpies. Well I have devised a plan, It basically is an offensive attack, pun intended.
When I was younger I worked for a fairly large church. There was another guy that I worked with who was quite possibly one of the funniest people on earth. He and I would go in the bathroom right before the second service would start and we would sit on both sides of the center stall. Leaving our victim's only one place to go. Then once the poor sucker was in place we would lay into labor pain sounds from the stalls on either side. Not at the same time, and we would ramp up the noise, starting with innocent enough grunts all the way up to foot stomping. We sent many a Sam's pre-maturely wiping and vowing never to duce in public.
I say this to say that a good offence is the best defense. When you are enjoying the bathroom and someone comes in, make like every man over the age of 70. Have no shame. Start making sounds that have nothing to do with pooping. Heck even hum or sing. I guarantee that you will be alone much sooner than you could wish.
So go forth and poo with confidence that 95% of the guys in there are just as scared of you. But if you should run across that other 5%. Pull your feet up and pray that the Lord would tarry no longer, because while that guy casts out a demon in the next stall. You my friend are front row, and by the way your pants are down.

All Will Grow Old

Ahhhhh stupid youth. I remember when I would run backwards to taunt the old guys trying to keep up with me on the basketball court. I think in my mind I really thought that I was just faster than them. I couldn't understand that their frustration was due to anything other than my obvious physical advantage over them. Like maybe the fact that they used to be fast.
OHHH how the mighty have fallen. Yesterday was the Old guys VS Young guys annual football game. At our church we have a lot of college kids, so the cutoff is 25 and up are on the old guys team. I know it not very old, but we, and by we I mean anyone over 26, can agree that there is a great difference between 20 and 26.
As I hobbled to my car after an hour and half long game ending in triple overtime. I saw all the arrogance that comes with youth, and thought to myself, between shooting knee pains.
"Those Bastards"! Then I smiled to myself and thought, someday they will be old and slower than before. And since you reap what you sew.
They too will have a pimply faced kid who couldn't touch them in their prime, run half speed backwards and still get away. Not that someone ran backwards on me, because the old know that even the young must rest. And revenge is a dish best served cold.
And if you are older and you don't think what I am saying is true, then you probably play softball, and love it.
Because that's where athletes go to die.

Reaching His Threshold

Well I now know what amount of stimulus it takes to cause my dog to jump from a moving truck. The other day Jeremy and I were driving down a steep hill going around 20-25 miles an hour, when up ahead I see it. The source of stimulus that will cause Charlie to swan dive out of the back of a moving vehicle. Two deer were crossing the road in front of me, and I said out loud. "ohhh Damn"! A quick glance to the rearview mirror I see Charlie up on the side barking as if to call down the thunder of all those leapers who had gone before him. A glance to my side mirror bodes me the view of him leaping as far from the truck as he can, sending the deer steppin and fetchin like their tails were on fire. A glance over my shoulder shows Charlie almost landing on his feet but quickly going to his face, in no time he is on his back sliding at the same speed as the truck. Then over to his feet were he dug his claws into the asphalt for any sort of traction. And once he ground to a stop, he was off after those deer. I called him back and had him get in between Jeremy and only to find that he was fine with some cuts, but visibly still excited about his adventure.
The reason I know this was because as Jeremy put it. "his Charles Mingus is laying on the seat man"!!
Indeed it was, indeed it was.

Waste of time

dig my grave with a silver spade

dig my grave wide and deep

let me see you all there

i can't be left alone

what will i do in this place

no one to tell me i'm important

i'm not scared of anything

don't watch me

dig my grave with a silver spade

The Idiot Tax

AHhhhhhhh the lottery. The minds playground as I like to call it. I will admit that I am that guy who pulls the tab on every McDonald's cup and scratch game I come across. For some reason the lure of something for "virtually" nothing is just too great. At the same time it is kinda sad.
Several years ago I was at a board meeting in a large corporation. Granted I was there as a substitute, I had been called in from the bullpen for relief of a lazy manager, but non the less I was there. And since I am smart enough to know that my mouth should and will not open in this meting I really watched these "successful" people closely.
There was a guest speaker who I suppose was there to impart great words of wisdom. Which in a small subtle way she did. There on the table after the food break I noticed that she had a cup with TWO chances to win 1 million dollars. When she was done with the cup she just threw it away. She had seen the game on the cup. I mean crap half the room had looked at their pieces. She wasn't concerned with it. I think that she knew that nothing comes from nothing. If you want it you have to put out effort for it. She also struck me as someone who wanted something on her own merit. She wasn't looking for something for nothing. Because that one ingredient isn't what complete's the person. That pondered me for the longest time.
And last night when I was standing in line at the gas station buying my 1 chance at tons of free money, I thought I probably looked like an idiot when I pulled that cup outta the trash and won nothing.

My Gas is Low Class

I want to go on record as saying that passing gas is quite possibly the most timeless joke ever. I have to believe that the disciples were sitting around the fire and Jesus was like, "Shhh Shhh did you guys here that?, I think it was the father" PPOOOOOooooooooot. And everyone laughed except Luke, cause there is always one guy who doesn't think it's funny.
But as time has gone on the gas joke has been pushed to the back of the joke rack only pulled out when men find themselves alone or if your lucky in a car full of trapped victims. I bring this up because I believe that I have been "gifted" with the "ability" to drop a well placed bomb at any time. Only to the dismay of my friend Jeremy. I guess the reality is that he has grown past it while I have sadly remained. This was my mind set until I read something of Sams.
He was talking about your faith being childlike. So in the biggest stretch of theology since Mormonism, I believe that God wants my child like jokes to be used to better the kingdom.
But first I must bring Jeremy into the fold. So later I am going to lock him in our office and have an intervention.
Be praying, there is no ventilation in our office. And I ate Mexican for lunch.

Death Chambers for Cutie

I realized the other day that certain machines cause me to think about my mortality.
I was in an elevator and thought I wonder if I could survive a 3 story drop. Then I run through the senerios about my jumping right before impact and surviving. Like I am the exception to the rule of gravity. I am that guy who watches TV and sees an accident and thinks well I would have just done this. The reality is I would go from being 6'7 to 5'4 just like anyone else who feel three story's in a death box.
Then I started thinking about other places I go that make me think, I could die here.
Planes
Cars
Porta pots
Carnival rides
Subway trains
Coffins
You know places you may find yourself everyday.
So I'm not sure if I am scared enough yet to avoid these places all together, or just rely on my ability to stop myself from hitting the dash of my car in a head on collision by putting my hands out in front of me.

Why Farm Animals Scare Me

The truth is, it's not just farm animals. It's all dumb animals, and I mean really dumb.
I think that's why there are some people that really make me nervous to be around. It's not that they are necessarily a huge physical threat as much as they are really unpredictable.
A trait of these types of animals is the BLANK STARE. Like they are not just in another world, but the ruler of that world. And when they do notice you, it's like they are startled by you. This is where my problem lies. I don't think that they are necessarily violent animals, or people. Maybe they are just scared, scared that you, some alien, are so close to them. Now they are cornered, and we all know how a cornered animal will react.
And if you are ever wanting to come to grips with this fear I would suggest not going to a petting zoo with adult animals and a giant paper bag of food. This guarantees a confrontation. And nobody wants to see you punching a goat over a sac of dry corn.
My suggestion is to just stay away.
If they don't come when you whistle. They are dumb.
And that goes for cats.

Damn Women, Feedin' Me Poison!!!

Well I can't really blame it on her... and by not really I mean not at all. At one time in my life I looked at my body, well my stomach anyway, like a tree shredder. You know the one's that they aim into the back of a truck. Everytime you see one and there's someone with you they talk about someone being dragged through it because they caught a sleeve or something. I thought this was a great description of my stomach, because the realities were the same. You come to close and you may be pulled in along with my french fries.
I could have sworn that my pit was cast in iron. Pizza YES, more Pepsi YES, Peppers well heck YES, 20 minutes later you say were having chili. But as my Pepecid AC addicted friend Jeremy likes to say "it burns".
So I now realize that I can't eat molten lava anymore, and I have gotten the message loud and clear from my body. I don't think it's fooling around anymore. Because if the warning shot it fired across my bow in the bathroom was any indication to the future I am in it DEEP brother.
So for me it is now the life of a rabbit who drinks Pepsi. My tree grinder has now been scaled back to an almost fully operational garbage disposal, that needs the water running to really work well.
So a page has turned.
Well bring it on I say, and pass the fat free ranch, this stuff tastes like CRAP!

A Dogs Life (A morning in the life of Charlie)

What is this!?
My neither region hasn't been cleaned in at least 20 minutes I need to get on that.
hallway.. hallway.. hallway.. bedroom.. bed..
ahhh you lazy bastard get up! get up I tell you. If he doesn't get up now I swear I will pee directly in his...
OoHHH hey buddy your up ! Yeah it's me it's me it's me hey hey heyheyheyyehe no nononononnon AHHHHhhhh shit he's out. bed.. bedroom.. spin.. spin.. spin.. floor
Ohh my neither region. Hello there buddy where have you been.

Breaking the Habit

OK!! FINE!!
I am going to get my sorry butt outta bed. I have been struggling with not finding the time to be creative just on my own. I was afraid of it interrupting time with my family which is very important to me. So my wise friend Jeremy kindly told me I was a giant doosh bag, and I needed to just stop being a sissy and get myself outta bed earlier.
I was like "you did read if sleeping were a sport right"? Again he was unditered in his slander. "DO IT".
So without any help from anyone else I decided to get up early in the morning and have some creative time to myself. I am not unreasonable, I realize the first few days will be pretty much me staring off into nowhere land, but with any hope I will break the life long habit of sleep.
Next Jeremy will want me to give up oxygen.
"But I need it to live". "DO IT"

ME BRAIN SLOW

I have the strangest feeling that my brain cells are somehow throwing themselves down on sharp things. My memory has progressively gotten worse. It never was razor sharp, but now it’s barley a dull edge. The thing that has becomeapparentt is that the part of my brain responsible for names and phone numbers, has been used as a trampoline by the rest of the brain cells. I have always excepted that, kind a embraced it in a way. Making light of the fact that you just introduced yourself to me and in the midst of the words leaving your mouth they have been forgotten. Then the cat and mouse begins. I call you “man”, “bro”, “dude”, or just say "whats up” when I see you.
But lately my mind has gone to forgetting things that I really know. Like how to pee. Not really but you get the idea. I can’t tell if it’s that I am getting older or if I just think about too much at once and lose everything by doing it. Whatever the reason it’s worrying me. So if you see a 6’7 guy standing on a corner with half his face shaved and a confused look, please stop your car, check my wrist band and take me home to my wife.
OK so I did forget how to pee.

TIME

Time.
It's how we measure everything. "Waste of time", "time well spent", "have no time", "I don't have that kinda time". The funny thing about time is that it seems to change form depending on what your doing. "Times flying", "doing time", "time is standing still". But time never did a thing, it just kept on going along like it always does. Racking up it's seconds one after the other. Well all of this true except for the greatest time warp of all.
The microwave.
I contend that at the microwave time bends for no other reason but to screw with you. I have personally seen time go backwards while waiting for my food. I belive it once stopped while I was out of the room and picked up where it had left off when I got back. Whatever the case that molecule mixing box of hell has had it's last mockery of me. I now use the kettle for my hot water.
But now there is the whole question of watching water boil.

A Wandering Mind is a Terrible Thing to Watch

Last night I laid awake in bed until well into the wee hours of the night. Serenaded by the wheezing of my sound asleep wife. So I figured that I would no longer try and fight the wandering of my mind. Which by this point was meandering like butterfly flight. That got me thinking,
WHAT THE HELL AM I THINKING!
I mean I was everywhere I was 10 again, then I was skydiving, then I was thinking MUST SLEEP MUST SLEEP. Strait into 20 minutes about painting my landlords apartment. Which by the way I am not doing, but I spent a lot of time thinking about it. Then it happened.
I woke up this morning. I got dumped from the ride and didn't even know it.
My brain concerns itself.

The Slow Conquest

At what point did my body throw in the towel? At what point did my body think it was cool to stop working to restore the troops on my head and go for a sneak attack on my shoulders. Now I am not going to try and pretend that I have not been a hairy person up to this point, but there were rules, boundaries if you will. But whoever has been incharge since 96' is a total nutjob. He has no respect for what is my ass and what is my lower back. The other day I noticed that I had a lone hair on my ear and I almost wept, I mean that's it. I might as well get ready to start combing my eyebrows and pretending that I don't notice the carrot stock of hair growing strait out of my ears. But that's sissy talk. So I have decided to throw a party for hair on my neck and lure all those rouge bastards in. And once they are there I am going to have my sideburns kick their ass and force them into hard labor on the barren wasteland known as the top of my head.
If that doesn't work I am waxing my whole body, like the great flood, and starting over.

Tattoo You

What really is the point. I mean I have 2 and I am not really sure why. The best part is when someone makes fun of my tigger tattoo, as if to say there are better ones. Like things in hebrew or Chinese, because you know Chinese people think things in English are cool. I really think the whole idea behind it is hey I'm cool I was repeatedly stabbed and no one called the cops.
Is it style? Maybe it is a tattoo that accentuates your eyes I guess. Like when girls have elaborate "tribal" tattoos strew across the top of their butt. Now that's cool.
But I really think that the main draw for a tattoo is branding. I mean that's what they were started for. Hey I belong to so and so. Or he belongs to me. I really think most people are branding themselves to themselves. For self glamour. I belong to me.
Anyways I really want to get another one I have the drawings for it and everything. But I don't think my wife will let me. Now that's branding.

"A Rolling Stone Gathers No Moss".

That was the premise behind the creation of the Rock and Roll magazine to end all Rock magazines. The problem is that a rolling stone's always heading down hill. At least the magazine is. I have the hardest time even picking it up when I see it. They entice me with a rock legend of old, then force you to sift through the most one sided childish intellect in the world. Hey no one said that it was a news magazine, I mean they are entitled to their opinions and that's fine. The problem that I have is that the readers of this publication have no ability to discern that there is a severe bias in what they are reading. I can tell when some has a conservative bias and vise versa. But as I went back to college again recently I noticed that many kids don't have that ability. Homer once joked that "it's on TV it must be true" the sad thing is that a lot of people really believe that. I read in the RS that if Monica Lowinski had swallowed that we wouldn't have to take our shoes off at the airport. This statement and mind set are reeling with falseness and bias that cannot be measured. But you have to remember that "a rolling stone gather no moss" that makes less sense to me now.

My Personal Fight Club

Have you ever had an imaginary fight with someone in your head? Not like your sitting somewhere and someone says something and you think to yourself later I should have said this or that, but an actual imaginary fight with someone that perhaps you don't even know. This happens to me all the time and the funny part is I actually get pissed off like if I really see them I will be mad at them.
The whole reason I bring this up is because it happened to me last night with this old lady neighbor that lives next to the property we bought. That's right an old lady! No one is safe. Long story short by the end of the whole thing I had fed her cats antifreeze, but that's only after she tried to get my dog hit by a car. This in it's self is scary enough, then I thought. I wonder what will happen when we really meet.

That bitch better watch it.

Little Pleasures

a cool bed on a sunlit early morning
my dads hand on my shoulder
my grandfathers eyes
my boys lips on my cheek
a silent gaze from an understanding friend
my wifes hair on her pillow
a tire swing
driving in silence
drawing with the sound of a kettle in the other room
just enough toilet paper
the last coke
my ipod

My Friend Sam

Well today my friend Sam turns 26. Although he seems more like 15, but with hair in special places. I want to talk a little about the man the myth and the legend.
First the he is one of the funniest people that I have encountered in my whole life. As a matter of fact he once made me run out of the room for fear of vomiting. One of my favorite things about Sam is that he is a man of contradictions. You would think that would bother him, but NO! He embraces it. For instance he hates being called a liar but since he has the memory of a goldfish he can't really remember if he's telling the truth.
But for the most part he is just a cool guy who Jeremy obviously has a thing for. Well I say let them be and
HAPPY BIRTHDAY SAM!!!!!!!!

Nothing Left To Say

When there is nothing left to say is usually when I say the most. I guess it's because I feel uncomfortable with the way the conversation ended. Or the look in the other persons eyes. I have been known to make a joke at the worst time possible, but really I just want to cry and walk away in silence. I wonder why I can't just shut-up and stand in silence. I guess I think I am always going to say something great that will change their mindset.
But alas I just look like a giant ass.
I'll shut-up.

If Sleeping was a sport.

If sleeping was a sport I would be a world champion. Honestly I think my body was designed for sleep. Carl Lewis was made to run like his ass was on fire and I was made to sleep like rip van winkle. Which by the way my favorite part about that story was the fact that nobody bothered the guy while he was sleeping. That's all I want...everyone to leave me alone long enough for me to sleep for 5 or 6 years. Is that to much to ask. I guess I wonder what the sleeping arena would look like, and there would have to be a uniform, so we don't get any nude sleepers. Well except for girls sleeping.

Reasons why I don't get it

Well here is my worst case scenario coming true right before my very eyes. Last night when I posted this blog of mine I thought "hey that's not bad", it could even possibly be seen as amusing.
But that's where everything took a terrible turn for the worse. It was pointed out that number
1, it is the 21st century and that
2, I didn't link the other blogs that I told you to read.
Now I knew that I didn't do that but the reason was because I could freakin figure out how to link them!!! So the reality is I actually am just coming into the 20th century.

Ok here are some absolutes about myself, I can't stand someone that won't listen to reason, I can't stop thinking that life is like a movie and that everything I do is being viewed by everyone around me like I'm TV. And I use numbers to break up my points.

I HAVE ENTERED THE 20TH CENTURY

I am only here out of total peer presure. All my friends are doing it so here I am trying to fit in. Except there are 2 glaring differences between me and them.
1. I can't write to save my life.
2. I have no ambitions to be bettter at it.
So we are all reading each others blogs to try and piss ourselves off and then set the world strait on our blog. So let me set the world strait. Your all too self-absorbed and narrow minded even in your open mindedness to make a difference. If you really want to change the world, as my friend Jeremy says (well him and God) "just love people more than yourself' thats it right there. For real if you put others before yourself, even people you hate. The world will be a better place. So shut up and read Sam and Jeremys blog.