Ambition

For me

Some people need a peck or two;
For others a simple smooch will do;
To many, a graze will stimulate;
A few may want to osculate.
And then, there are those who need a smack;
For flowery words they have a knack.
But all I want from you is bliss,
Which you can give me with a plain, old kiss!

A slice of pie

This morning I started pondering my morning rituals. The alarm goes off. And since I know I'll hit the snooze button, it's set a half hour early. Flip the covers off, and morning rituals begin. into the bathroom, then shower (where I'm sure if you clocked me, I'd spend exactly the same amount of time each day soaping the same areas.) Which while vaguely interesting (riiight), isn't what I want to talk about.

I then carried the idea further and began thinking about rituals in society. We have this little verbal dance we do when we see people. How are you doing? Now, you ask this and don't really expect and answer. It's just a greeting after all. Well, perhaps Monday mornings you are a little more interested. Did the person do anything of interest over the weekend? (btw - next time you see someone in a splint, crutches, etc. pay attention to whether you are really interested in the answer when you ask how it happened. See, it's expected that you must ask, but do you really care?) But I digress yet again.

To hurry things up, I came around to body modification as a ritual. Tattooing, scarification, mutilation as a marking system for people has been around for thousands of years. I recall as a child reading about the tribes of the amazon. Fierce warriors with lip disks come to mind. imagine putting ever increasing disks of wood into your lip to make it bigger and bigger. Part of it was a rite to manhood (among others). Tattoos in some cultures tell stories of a lifetime, they were also used to designate status. Some african tribes use ornate facial scars similarly. When you encounter these things, you find it hard not to stare. It's unique. It's beyond the scope of your imagination to sit still while someone deliberately scars your skin. But how many of us will sit still while someone scars your mind?

In today's world there is a resurgence of Modern Primitive. Tribal tattoos, body piercing (in an ever widening scope of body location and jewelry type) is becoming more and more commonplace. There are two TV shows dedicated to tattooing alone this season. But I don't want to talk about tattooing and piercing as a ritual. Other than as an interesting side note for my point. Many people would never willingly sit through the pain of the process when they don't have to. Nor will they take on the (still) social stigma of being modified. As I rambled through these topics in my mind I touched on Cutting a little bit. Now, I'm no expert, but cutting is about control and not about the result. Cutters don't proudly display the results of their actions. Actually, they are ashamed of them. Hiding underneath long sleeves and pants. I've noticed this topic has become more commonplace in our society. We hear about cutting more and more. It was even cast as a character trait in the movie Secretary. Even though I'm sure cutters have a ritual, I cannot include them in my thoughts on rituals. Cutting is the result of illness which can be treated.

Moving on. I also touched on weddings and wondered why the ritual we use today is still commonly accepted. It's history is fairly short. Going back to England and royalty doing the suit and white dress thing. Hosting a huge dinner for friends. (Can't they feed themselves?) Is it really required to put on a monkey suit that you don't own and have the bride pay an atrocious sum for a wedding dress that will only see the light of day once? Come on people. It's just not common sense. And as far as a ritual goes, it's not a very fun one. Well, the after party is, but the ceremony itself (the reason for the gathering after all) is usually boring and trite. (I have seen exceptions.)

This is a much shortened version of what went through my head in about 5 minutes in the shower this morning. Sorry. Come back tomorrow for a another slice of pie. I'm not sure what we'll be serving, but that's part of the fun isn't it?

State of mind

You desire. You crave.
You need. You lust.
Fantasy clothed in reality.
Your eyes flutter beneath closed lids.
Breath rapid and deep.
Your hands slide down your skin.
Imagining how I touch you.
You tease yourself.
Soon. Very soon I'll be there.

Declare war

Incredibly, I had a dream this morning that I made a national call to declare war on something. Now, I'm not in a position to declare war on anything except maybe the touch of mold that I wage constant battle with in the shower. Tell you what. I'm sending out the message for each person out there to declare war on something personal to them. By the way, I'm not advocating a bombing or other violent act. Just find something in your realm of influence that irks you enough to actually stand up and do something about it. Perhaps it's a petty complaint at the office that seems to be a constant itch in your mind. Set up a battle plan, formally announce your war to people around you so they know what is going on and can provide ground support, a strong supply line and care packages to the trenches. They will also have advance warning of some potentially strange behavior on your part. This is perfectly acceptable. Nothing incredible is obtained through common means. So today, you have the power, the ability and the means to accomplish something extraordinary. What are you going to declare war on? Personally, I'm declaring war on the dirt under my fingernails. I'm positive that I can enact a successful campaign that will wipe out this particular affliction on my person. And thus with better hygiene I will be a force to be reckoned with as I move through my day with grace and confidence. No fair copying either. Find your own war dammit.

Precipice

you are this force that envelops my mind
brings me to the brink,
the final edge.
you push me past the absolute limit
and I come back for more.
you do something to me I can't understand
so clean, so pure
you make it so easy.
who are you?

Visual Candy

OK, normally, I don't post stuff like this, but the link is just too good to keep to myself. And it's work safe.

Visual Candy

Cobwebs in my mind

I wrote this earlier this spring. I suspect some of you will understand it. Nothing lasts forever.


Within my dark place I dwell in quiet content.
In silent agony I pace within the walls I’ve created.
Nurtured in silence and fed with pain.
My walls are solid in their towering stature.
Each cornerstone placed with urgent care to provide strength.
Each whisper that passes to my mind becomes a torment.
Wretched dirt fills the cracks and crevices where smiles once reigned.

Random acts

Thank you constant readers for your words yesterday on what inspires you. I see everything from pain to love with everything in between from a god-awful outfit, money, competition, desire, boredom and mania. It's interesting to see what motivates others and I appreciate your sharing.

I guess it's my turn to answer the question. What inspires me?

Intelligence, surprise, random acts of kindness, clean design, money used to motivate me, but less and and less as time goes by. I'm not ruled by the almighty dollar anymore. (This changes depending on how far away payday is... lol).

Let's talk about Random Acts of Kindness (RAK). Tell you what, add in karma to the mix and you've got something going. It's so easy to do a RAK. Here's an easy one... you are in a parking garage that costs $2-3 dollars. Pay the toll for the car behind you... Imagine the suprise and the smile THAT would cause. Or actually holding a door for someone that is a little further behind you than you normally would. Let someone in your lane in traffic instead of speeding up to keep them from getting in. (Come on, we all do it.) What else can you do? Let someone with less items go in front of you at the supermarket... oh, that's a good one... and so easy.

Smile and tell someone you are having a great day when you aren't. I did this once years ago when I was working as a salesman. I was having a really bad day. I mean rip someone's head off kind of day. This couple entered the store and before I could greet them they asked how I was doing. "I'm fantastic," I replied or something to that effect. "Well, then you are our guy." I sold that guy and his wife a ton of new clothes. Enough that I saw the difference in my paycheck the next week. All for a little lie that made THEM feel good. And you know what? By the end of my time with them, I was fantastic. Not just over the sale. Enthusiasm breeds enthusiasm. Try it and see.

Pick up some trash that isn't your responsibility. Oh, this could be fun... going to a fast food place for lunch? Ask the window person how much the bill is for the guy/gal behind you. If it's less than 5 bucks. Pay for it. Smile and drive away... The chain reaction is inevitable sometimes... and it comes back so much bigger.

What inspires you?

Everyone has different drives and motivations. For a little change of pace, I'd like to hear about what drives you. What gets your motor revved up? Or as the title says, What inspires you?

Door to door religion

I was woken up this morning by a pair of door to door religious fanatics. Now, I'm not one who really cares what your personal beliefs are in the religion realm. If you are into chicken sacrifice or chanting 'Praise the Lord" or whatever... I don't care. Just don't freakin' try to preach it to me or convince me to join you. I'm not a joiner, I'm not interested in whether you think the morals of society are going down the tube. I'm certainly not receptive to it on Saturday morning when you woke me up to spread the word. When I lived in Europe there was one thing I always knew I could count on while I was traveling. I could always find a Mormon anywhere I went. Now, these kids were pretty nice. Often they spoke the local language and knew the local area. Their goal is to spread the Mormon faith, but in numerous conversations with these young people (because I was always lost) they never once talked to me about religion. They were quiet practitioners of their faith. I respect that. Now, respect me and take your religious cause and stick it where the sun don't shine. Because I don't want to hear it. Here's the deal. When the bible category comes on Jeopardy, I'm going to know all the answers. I was raised in a religious environment I think I started Sunday school as soon as I could walk. Brainwashing. They start it young. But suffice to say that I'm well versed in religion... just don't quote it to me OK?

The good stuff

I want to get a job at Krispy Kreme. Yeah, I'm going to find out what kind of high grade crack it is that they put in their donuts. Then, I'm going to take that information and publish it in Rolling Stone - 'All the news that fits'. See, I know there are a few million Krispy Kreme addicts running around just waiting for that Neon sign that says HOT DONUTS. To light up the night sky. I can just see the oversized sign lighting up and 10 million fat people going for it.

Bob: I'll take a dozen
Fred: Cool, we can split
Bob: The fuck we will
Fred: What?
Bob: Get 'yer own damn box. This dozen is mine.
Fred: You are kidding right?
Bob: Hell no.
Fred: A dozen... you are going to eat a dozen donuts yourself?
Bob: Damn skippy, it's Krispy Kreme
Fred: (to counter girl) Uh, I'll have 3... awww screw it, I'll have a dozen.






And the really jacked up thing is you can actually eat of dozen of the SOBs. Yeah, your body gonna make you pay later, but you are the Snarf King. (Distantly related to Kroll the Warrior King if you get my drift). So two hours later, the box is empty, you feel like ass about your already poor self image, but you know you'd do it all over again. High grade crack, I'm telling you. Screw the pipe and lighting up up... just inhale through glazed donuts. A moment on the lips... a lifetime on the hips.

Now I'm really cracking up. Krispy Kreme has a link on their site - Nutritional Info. Bwahahaha Riiiiight. Do I really care? Nope... 'scuse me, I have some Mini Crullers calling my name...

All images in this post copyright or trademark of Krispy Kreme Inc.

Eidetiker

Everyone knows what it is like to close one's eyes and call up a visual image using the "mind's eye." For most people this image is usually fleeting and undetailed, but for those who possess an ability for eidetic imagery, this image is like a tangible picture that can be manipulated and seen in great detail.

Previously on my blog, I was accused of fabricating an entire European Vacation by a friend because I 'could'. If you read the post, part of it deals with that scenario and my thoughts at the time. The idea that I could envision an entire vacation and never actually leave my house is actually quite interesting to me. After some time had passed, I realized that she was right. I could fabricate it (I didn't, but that doesn't mean I couldn't do so). If you break it down into individual pieces or 'memories', there is a term for this ability, and the person who has it. It's called eidetic.

A person who has this trait or ability is called an eidetiker or 'one having the ability of eidetic imagery'. I don't profess to have a photographic memory (eidetic memory and photographic memory are different) or even to be as talented (gifted?) as some noted test subjects. I have an incredibly vivid imagination however and can cite detail upon detail in a scene even though it may never have occurred in reality. This is defined as structural eidetic as it is more spontaneous and not necessarily dependent on a previous experience of an actual stimulus and is seen inside the mind in the literal sense of the word. In short, a person who posesses eidetic imagery is able to "see" and describe an image in great detail after that image has been removed from their sight, and can perform this feat for a fairly extensive period of time.

Visual imagery is different from visual perception because visual perception requires the object to be actually present and visual imagery does not. For example, when one says, "I see a rock," and there is in fact a rock in sight, then that is a visual perception. If there were not a rock in sight, that would be a visual image.

For an excellent description of the characteristics of Eidetic Imagery, (note: some of my text is from this site) click here.

Into the slot

So, I walked up to my car yesterday from a store and had a bag in one hand and my keys in the other. For some reason I had the actual key in my hand and the door was locked. I looked at my hand and then the key. Then I looked at the lock… Hmm… what do you do now… It took me a second to open the hard drive in my head and find the header, Locks, Car, Manual key entry.

Insert key into little slot (hey, this is kinda like sex without the lubrication) Hmmm… then what? Oh, right, turn it… which way? Nope the other way… Whew door unlocked, withdraw key (no penalty for withdrawal here.)

Later I realized it had been over 10 years since I used a key to unlock a car door. Let’s not even get into the topic of cars that don’t have power windows… Hey, what’s this KNOB do? LOL

As I wake

As I slowly wake, I hear the soft whisper of your breathing
A tiny symphony only I can hear in the stillness of the morning
I can feel your smooth skin radiating warmth like a stone under summer sun
As I become more awake, I smell your essence at the nape of your neck
Enveloped in your cocoon, I’m safe and comfortable
You stir and murmur asleep still - in the silence, peaceful like a mountain stream
My fingers glide over your arms, sides and back, teasing over your hips
They return on another path delighting in the subtle electricity between us
The pace of your breath increases, louder now in the quiet of morning
Awake, but enjoying the languid caress, you do not move
Unwilling to break the bond of our soft touch you lie content
Time passes and your need to be closer to me grows within
You move into my arms and gaze into my eyes as we kiss tenderly
Good morning my love – may the rest of your day be filled with peace.

M&Ms

I read years ago that Van Halen had it written in their concert contract that they had to be provided three pounds of M&Ms for each concert by the venue. Doesn't seem like a big deal does it? Here's the catch... there couldn't be any brown M&Ms in the bowl. Now, I've never tested the following and I'm just going to report it as fact. It takes 10 pounds of M&Ms to produce three pounds of colored M&Ms. You might be thinking that someone in the band had a serious sweettooth. Not really, they simply wanted venue producers to read the whole contract. Would it be depressing to eat only the brown ones? Word was that the remaining 7 pounds went to the crew. A band like Van Halen probably toured for 8 months of the year. How sick would you be of M&Ms if you had them to eat everyday?

If you haven't been to the M&M site lately, you should visit. They've introduced new colors, and a new M&M called the MEGA which is 55% larger than a regular M&M. Make sure you click on the bowl to watch the commercials for a good laugh. Or get custom printed M&Ms in custom colors.

You might be thinking I'm an M&M freak, but I'm not. I once was, but I'm recovered now. It didn't take a 12 step program, Weight watchers or Jenny Craig. I never had to stand up and say, "Hi, I'm Mad and I'm an M&Maholic." I didn't have to listen to the room reply back, "Hi, Mad." (Sidenote: Remember, they only use first names. I've never been to a meeting as I just described, but on TV and in movies, why are they always protrayed as monotone events? Does anyone have life in them at these things? Just curious.) So back on track, I just quit one day. Cold turkey. I think Mars stock plummeted a whole .0000000000000000000001 point when I quit eating them. To make up for that, I'm encouraging everyone to go visit the nearest M&M store (Now in New York, Chicago and Las Vegas). Hey, just because I no longer indulge, doesn't mean you can't.

Happy M&Ming.

Oh, btw - I was perusing their website and found the following factoid: In each bag of peanut M&Ms, here's is what you get. 12% brown, 15% yello, 12% red, 23% blue, 23% orange and 15% green. In regular Milk chocolate - 13% brown, 14% yellow, 13% red, 24% blue, 20% orange, and 16% green. (No wonder I don't like the plain ones... not enough orange. >:-(

Somebody get me a life. haha

Smooth move

Wipe 'yer mouth for Crissakes. You are attracting flies.

You ever stick your foot in your mouth so deep you wonder if it came out your ass? One minute you are clipping along nicely in a conversation, the next you are wondering what kind of surgery it will take to get your foot back in your ass and back out the vocal orifice. It's too late to take it back, you just forgot to engage your brain in time to stop whatever it is you said from coming out. Not intended to be a bad thing, but there it is laying in front of you like a plumbers crack. You don't want to look, but you keep glancing furtively to see if his pants magically rose to cover the offending Grand Canyon. Nope. Damn. Now what do you do... you can't get a sheet and cover it. The words won't die. they sit and wriggle... like a chicken with it's head cut off runs around. Doesn't know it's dead yet. No way to catch it. You wish you hadn't let go of it in the first place, but you didn't know the chicken didn't know it was dead... You look around, embarrassed, but impotent. Nothing to do but cringe and wait. You can apologize, but you never know if you are trying to hard. You mentally bang your head on a wall. Sometimes you even do it for real. Stupid, stupid, stupid. In three days, the whole thing will be gone, but for right now, it's the center of the universe. As a friend of mine likes to say, "there is an elephant in the room, you need to slay it." I don't have a gun in that caliber, but I'd be happy to shoot my own foot if it would make things better. When I was younger and tad less thoughtful (right) we had this saying, "Smooth move ExLax". Here's to TP and lot's of it.

PackRatism

How many of us suffer from that particular affliction and what causes it? I have to ask... I'm sorting everything I own trying to justify each piece I retain. What a pile of crap I have. Why I still have a hacky sack from college (perhaps the stupidest addiction I ever had) I have no idea. Is it sentiment? I can't recall any of the people I hacked with being friends, we just hacked. We couldn't get laid, so we kicked the little leather bag around. Now, that IS something to write home about... Man, we went 15 times around the circle before Tommy the dumbass missed. Riiiight. I bet half the people that played were stoned 50% of the time. Or is that 50% of the people that played were stoned half the time? Inquiry minds want to know. So back to my possessions and why I have them. Let's see what else in in my box o' trix. A random box full of electric cables, RCA cables, misc. co-axial cable (you get the idea). I haven't needed anything out of that box in what? 10 years... throw it away already. Two snapshot cameras with film still inside. One quit working and I never had the film developed (uh, 12 years ago). Yeah, there is going to be some fantastic shots on that. The other I have no idea when I took the last picture... 5 years ago? More? Could be as many as 10. Then there is the zippo lighter I keep for sentimental reasons. At least that's the story I tell myself. I never smoked, it wasn't a gift. I can't ever recall whipping it out at the right moment to give that girl at the bar a light. Yeah, real sentimental jackass. Then there are two sets of darts - haven't played in 13 years. 12 year old brand new winter army boots. NIB. Will I part with them. Hell no, I might find myself in a winter zone sometime and need them. Not likely. I hate states that have a true winter and wouldn't allow myself to move to one of them for any salary. Well, maybe Bill Gates salary, but otherwise, I don't think so. Will I toss the boots Not on your life. My favorite is two large boxes filled with beer glasses and mugs from Germany. Somewhere around 100 of them. Anyone want these? Start looking on eBay, I might actually part with these... lol OK, I'm off to throw some stuff away. Go clean out your junk drawer in your kitchen that's all I ask. If you can do that, you are many steps ahead of the Johnson's with their shiny new car or their kid who is in 'private school'. I'm puking on them already. Blech... Hmmm... isn't that the chicken nacho I had for dinner? Even better the second time around.

Litany against fear

I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain.



© 1965 and 1984 Frank Herbert

Where do our socks go?

The following is something I dreamed up to answer the age old questions of where do our socks go when we lose them.

The Sock Elves

What are the sock elves?
I'll tell you if care to listen.
I'll begin with how I know that
sock elves exist.
Anyone who has ever done laundry knows.
If you don't do laundry, ask those who do.

I've counted my socks before and after.
I've been careful and only put in two.
Somehow, I've never managed to come out even.
Always one single sock missing,
or two, but never the same pair.

You know too, don't you? Yes, you do.
The sock elves steal our socks.
Sometimes right before our very eyes.
The thing is you don't see the sock elves.
No-one does, that wouldn't be proper.

The sock elves aren't malicious.
They need our socks more than we do.
Believe it. They do, trust me.
How do I know this tasty morsel of fact?
I caught one of them little fuckers.
I did, I really did.

Caught him with a sock in hand.
I nearly wrung his scrawny neck.
If he would've looked human, I would've too.
Their looks aren't important though.
Suffice to say they are cute and blue.
No, not like those smurfs on TV.

I made him talk, yes I did.
I tortured his skinny cracked ass.
Yes sir, I made him tell all.
It didn't take long.

They steal our socks and it's stupid.
It's not to frustrate us. Hell no.
They live in 'em, yeah dammit, they live in 'em.
Their not satisfied with one either.
They got to have as many as possible.
It's a status thing.

The more socks - the more status.
The more sock elf women too.
The sock elf women don't steal socks.
It's a man thing, if you believe that.

I can't tell you any more about them.
I would've gotten more information,
but that little blue bastard escaped.
I don't know how, I got enough though.
Those blue bastards better watch out.
'Cause I'm gunnin' for 'em.
I want my socks back - All of them.

Ordered Mind

I've been dying to write a rant. The truth is that I haven't found anything good enough to actually write a rant about. I'm really hesitant to post this picture, but WTF... I can't think of anything to write today. This piece isn't finished (one reason I'm hesitant to post it). It's called Ordered Mind.

36x48 Oil on Canvas.

Indulge yourself

When was the last time you laid down on a rope hammock and just wasted an afternoon? Or just indulged yourself for your own sake? This weekend I got to thinking about 'smelling the roses'. Now, I don't know about you, but I never stopped to smell the roses for real and I don't plan on doing it anytime soon. However, the concept behind smelling the roses is golden. Really, how often do you take time to just BE. I'm not talking about flopping your fat ass on the couch and watching 3 hours of bad sitcoms and worse reality TV. I'm talking about really just taking a time out from life. Grabbing a glass of lemonade (or tea if you are from the south) laying in a hammock or on a chaise lounge for a few hours. You'd think from reading above that I had done so this weekend. No, I'm just lamenting the fact that even when we have time to do something for ourselves, we rarely take the opportunity. OK, so this post is short... I'll see if I can come up with something better by the end of the day... in the meantime... Post a comment on how you indulged yourself this week. Whatever it is, just post it.

Stand up

Someone recently asked me if I had any regrets. I gave them two and kind of shrugged the question off. I'm not the kind of person who regrets the things they have done. Those things make me, well... Me!

However, tonight I was reminded of something that happened almost 20 years ago in high school. We had a girl in our school who had a serious disfigurement either through accident or birth, I don't know. Her hip was out of place. It forced her to walk with a pronounced twist in her walk. I can't even qualify it as a limp. It's way past that. Anyway, she was short and not really attractive. (Not ugly, just not someone you'd normally look at and consider.)

So, I was walking out of the cafeteria one day and these three guys were making fun of her. Not behind her back, but right there in front of her. Mimicking her walk. Basically, being assholes. At the time, I didn't think much of them or the situation. Years later, I wish I had knocked them on their asses. Literally. She never did anything to them. I can't imagine the courage this girl displayed in not crying in front of everyone. I went on my way (imagining that I had somewhere to be and thus not defending this girl.) I have regretted that choice in my life ever since. Who do you stand up for if not those that can't stand up for themselves? Like the two marines on trial in A Few Good Men. Instead of standing up for the weaker soldier, they killed him.

A few years after college, I saw a very cute girl out somewhere. I'm positive to this day that these two women were the same person. Her hip was fixed and she walked normal, but something about her eyes told me that it was the same girl. Surgery? Perhaps so. Perhaps a talented Dr. found a way to fix the bones in her hip and thigh to allow her to lead a 'normal' life.

One thing is certain. I'd be a better person today if I had stopped from my hurrying out of the cafeteria that day and confronted those boys. I hope in my heart that this young woman found a way to overcome the stupidity of a few high school boys. Boys whose parents obviously didn't have the ability to raise their children properly, leading them to pick on the misfortunes of another for the sake of sport. I have a penchant to rooting for the underdog, and perhaps the reason is that if I root for the underdog, I don't have to fear any bullies. Taking a stand isn't always easy, in fact I've found it's always the harder choice. But failure to take a stand is to condone the poor behavior of others or even to be a party to what is happening.

Retinal burn

Did you ever want someone so bad you could taste it? You feel that ache so deep you don't know what to do? Your day revolving around thoughts of them. Their voice, their smell, their presence dominating your mind. Echoes of their words linger. Play, Fast Forward, Rewind your only commands. Play, Play, Play... calm. The music in your ears brings them to you over time and distance. The tattoo of their pulse at the edge of their skin scratching and tearing you within. You cringe from the thoughts, knowing all the while that you must embrace them just as you would embrace the essence of her if she appeared before you. The curtain drawn, you are free to release the energy that has built. Where is she? You reach blind, clawing and crazed. There. Your arms wrap around her in quiet relief. How long will it last? 'til the sun rises and you wake alone? Reaching for the warmth that was only there in your dream. Your pulse hammers harder, your breath quickens with desire. Twisted, tormented the demon needs to feed. So God Damn Beautiful. You thirst, you hunger, you devour the mental images burned into your retina's and beyond. You shook my heart. You tore it all apart. Look at me now, I'm a wreck. I'm down on my knees. Please baby, give me what I need.

Medicated

So, how many of you go through life medicated? We have pills for everything. Uppers - god forbid we be unhappy, Downers - 'cuz I need calming down, Sinus, allergies, pep, heart, mucles, blue ones, green ones, pink ones, giant white horse pills that hurt to swallow, capsule, caplets, liquids... we've got the delivery system all engineered to make it easier to swallow the chemicals that keep us going. Better living through chemicals! Isn't that what the tagline used to be? I recently injured my back for the first time in my life and find myself on a couple of different meds for it. It's not like I'm taking Oxycontin (sp?) or Vicodin, but the meds make me a little loopy. Just enough that thinking is difficult and I feel slightly out of sync with the world, like I entered another plane of existence, but just a little, like I'm not completely there. One interesting thing is that taking these pills on a cycle means you usually end up taking one right before you go to bed. Now, I know that our bodies recharge and rebuild while we sleep, it's WHY we sleep, but adding meds to the mix is just asking for it. So, I wake up groggy and feeling like I need another 3 hours of sleep. Kind of like taking a too long nap in the middle of the afternoon, we wake up sleep sick. Something I hate about taking meds is the timing. You must REMEMBER to to actually take them on schedule. You get off schedule and you lose the effectiveness of the medication. I've seen young people with more pill bottles than some old people with serious problems. Oh, clear up that little rash, take this. Oh, need wood? We deliver for 36 hours (by the way dude, if it lasts 4 hours seek medical attention). Honestly, if I had a (take your pick, stiffy, woody, hard-on, erection...) for four hours I'd be seeking something besides medical attention. I'm sure there is a pill for that too. Excuse me, I have too high of a sex drive, can we calm it down a little? I can just see the Dr. nodding his head sagely, the wise man knoweth. lol So get out there, get your pills, and see your world revolve from inside a cushion. Or cast that stuff off like the plague and see what happens when the veil is lifted off your mind.

Getting laughs

I was reminded this morning of a one liner I quipped a couple of years ago. Sitting in a hot stuffy conference room for nearly a half an hour past the meeting start waiting for our boss. Now, the team in question had gone through a tough time with managers having gone through three in a 6 month period. We were the 'pros from Dover' and we knew it. We also respected this guy. He had a unique style of management that always made everyone feel like their thoughts had merit even if they didn't get used in the final product. A true gift of developing a team in other words. So, we sat and sat and sat some more. Trading funny stories and cracking wise. I don't know where it came from, but as he swept into the room and walked to the head of the table I called out in my best bailiff tone... ALL RISE... The laughter was immediate and loud. He was NOT pleased. Oh, well. Don't you wish that you could remember all the great one liners you've ripped out over the years. Replace memories of little mistakes you made or embarrassing moments with those great one liners that made the whole room break out in laughter? One of my favorite questions is what is your favorite sound? I have two. Breaking Glass and Laughter. I'm not sure what it is about the sound of breaking glass that I love other than to say it's musical. A genuine peal of laughter on the other hand is a jewel. A crown gem in my day. It doesn't matter whether I created the emotion or if it came from another source. Laughter and all it's qualties. It's a free sound. You can't really control it. Sometimes you even find a snorter... you know... "hey, you snorted..." and everyone can then laugh about that. But it's real. It's genuine. Laughter comes upon us unexpectedly. One second you can be serious and focused, the next laughing at something totally off the wall. What a great expression. It's built in, it's fun to share. Perhaps perfect. Spread some laughter today. Tell someone something unexpected, answer the phone Panamanian Pizza Place. Or send a love interest a cheesy pick up line out of the blue. Make them laugh and I promise your own day will get brighter. Try it, you'll like it.

What a sidedish

I’m a sidedish. Note to Midwest Hick I started writing this before I read It’s Not Road Rage If No One Dies. That’s right, I’m a sidedish. I was talking to someone on IM tonight when I realized this. This person and I don’t talk often and I discovered that they wished we talked more. They have an extremely busy life. And I commented to them that I was a sidedish. In my mind, I was thinking their life was the main meal. It doesn’t matter how often I reach through this little window into their life because it’s not about me. Their child, their job, the person they are dating, their pastimes. Those are the main meal. The stuff you want to eat up and keep you going.

Watching your kids at excel at something and being able to praise them. (Hmm, twice in two days I’ve blogged a post with kids attached… someone rescrew my head on straight.) Getting that new degree that means you get to move into a more lucrative career field. Working extra hours and outdoing the other guy to get the ‘big promotion’. Seeing your parents celebrate another anniversary. (Not that I have this to see, but I can imagine it along with the best of them.) Getting up in the morning and looking outside at the day thinking to yourself… I’m kicking your ass today. Today it’s all mine. These are the meals of life.

If I was more arrogant, I might think I was the dessert instead of a sidedish. Something you don’t always need, but something you crave more than the meal you just ate. Oh, there is a nice image. I’m something rich and taken best in small quantities. Perhaps that is why I’m still single. People love me, but you can’t eat the whole thing. Hmm… going to have to forget I said that. My head would really swell and then I’d be truly screwed. Just imagine walking into the office with a swelled head. What would people say? Nothing. They would whisper behind your back because they are chickenshit. “Did you SEE the SIZE of his head? OMG… can’t believe his neck hasn’t snapped like a chicken bone. How do you think he lugs that around all day?

If I was Mr. Potatohead would someone put me back together again when I fell off the wall? Oh wait, that Humpty-Fuckin-Dumpty. And all the soldier men couldn’t put him back together again. Not really a sidedish commentary anymore is it? I’m off in Neverland (no, not Neverland Ranch you sick bastard) imagining things that aren’t real in any dimension except our fantasy.

By the way, a nice wine to have with me as a sidedish is a nice hearty California Cabernet. Go ahead, pop that cork, pour the wine into the glass to linger and breathe. Then sip and savor it slowly. Taste the finish in the back of your mouth as you swallow. Mmmm… Rapture. Repeat until the glass is empty. Enjoy your reading.

Sheets

Right now in your own private bedroom, you probably are sleeping on sheets that have a thread count somewhere between 200-400. I used to do that too. Then I discovered Overstock.com and 1200 thread count sheets. OMG, like silk. So I got used to sleeping on them and learned to take them for granted. Last night I had to sleep on some 300 count sheets and it was like sleeping on burlap. I don’t know how to go back from my fantastic soft sheets. It’s like sleeping in a Westin Hotel. Ah, the Heavenly Bed. And as I just booked a room at a Westin Hotel in Boston, I discovered they have a Heavenly Dog Bed… What kind of dog needs a Heavenly bed? You have got to be kidding me. Yes, my dog is such a pussy it needs a Heavenly Bed… Hey, maybe that would be good for the little kids? Haha That’s a funny image… BTW – I don’t have kids, so if it sounds like I’m actually going to put a kid in the thing, you are wrong. So back to sheets. The only thing wrong with having 1200 thread count sheets is… well, you’ll figure it out when you get your own. I’m not here to talk about my own personal demons. Well, OK, you are right I am, but I’m not going to tonight. Too tired, too everything. Hope you had a great day. I’m off to put my 1200 TC sheets back on the bed. And off to dreamland I go…