Billiards....

... I generally dislike going to the dentist for many, many reason... and today just drove home a new one.... see, no matter how hard you try to be smooth around a hot dental technician, you are going to fail... you just can't do it.... it's damn near impossible to exude charm and confidence when a girl has her fist down your throat and is laying some serious torque on your tongue with her thumb.... especially while an elderly gentleman whirrs his drill deep into your amalgam... just trust me... don't even bother... and imagine the crush to your fragile ego, people... pretty young lady watching you squirm and twist through the Novocain like a nancyboy..... yep... just another reason to dread going to the dentist....

.. in other news, it's just past twelve here and a meaty pot of bolognaise sauce is simmering on the stove... should make for pretty good eatin' later tonight with a bottle of wine...

... anyway, did you guys know that British PM Palmerston (1784-1865) was rumored to have died on his billiards table whilst in the midst of wild hanky panky with his parlor maid?... hey, it's true... I read it in a book just now... man, what a way to go...

Fun

... well, boys and girls... I'm off to the dentist again... I'm telling you, the little moments of joy and fun in my life just never end... I must have been an unrepentant axe murderer in a previous life...

Boys...

... my plans for the afternoon were derailed totally today... it was a simple plan, really... head into town and pick up lunch... but some bread, milk, and apples for my Mother... deliver them and head home...

... didn't quite work out that way... as it turned out I ended up driving an neighbor to and from the ER, filling prescriptions, feeding livestock, and generally doing anything and everything than what I WANTED to be doing....

... but something just happened as I rounded a curve a few minutes ago near the home I grew up in... a little boy was walking alongside the gravel road.. iPod in hand.. baseball cap pulled down.. a scrawny, short-haired kid.. pale.. with big eyes that looked up and smiled at me as I slowed when I passed him... probably ten or twelve years old... baggy jeans too large for his thin body... he waved to me as I went around him, and smiled....

... just a kid walking down a country road in the evening... 5 O'clock and he's got nothing else to do between then and being called in for supper... no other children live on that dead-end road... so he was just killing time... grooving to his music and scuffing his feet on the dusty road...

... by the time I reached the top of the hill where his Father and Mother live, probably 300 yards away.. it hit me...

... 25 years ago, that was me... sans the iPod... and carrying a Daisy Red Ryder instead... heading out in the evening to patrol the dead-end roads around my house... jumping into the bushes when hearing a car approach... or standing and waving stupidly when one managed to sneak up on me...

... as strange as it sounds... seeing that Baxter boy kicking stones with his tennis shoes kinda made my day... those roads have gone too long without little boys to explore them... my Brother and I stopped doing that long, long ago...

... it was nice to see that kid today... it brought back a lot of memories... and if my day hadn't gone to Hell in a handbasket earlier in the day, I would never have noticed him... I guess a derailing is a good thing sometimes.... it's all about being in the right place at the right time...

Indians....

... I support various charities with small donations every month... the DAV, Paralyzed Veterans, Soldier's Angels... and lots more good causes.. ones that deal with various and sundry diseases are particularly favored... diabetes, cancer, etc...

.. anyway, you can imagine my surprise when I opened the post a few months ago and found a letter from a group of Indians out in Montana asking for a donation... how'd they get my name?... probably off of some "Hey! This guy donates! List"... anyway, I cut them a cheque for fifteen bucks and thought no more of it.... the next week I received a thank you letter... I was shocked... no "second donation form" was inside either... I was amazed... I mean, the DAV sends me a donation paper every WEEK... and I only respond to every fourth beg... but the Indians?... nope.. a hand-signed thank you card...

... a month later I get another missive from Montana... this time it is their school newsletter... telling me what my donations were doing in the small village and asking if I would like to donate more.... So I leafed through everything... and there sat an envelope with MY address at the top, THEIRS in the middle, and a 32 cent stamp affixed...

... heh.. those Indians are goooood... so I immediately wrote them a check for twenty five bucks and tossed that day's March of Dimes beg into the trash...

... and today in the mail?... I get a little handmade beaded key fob in the shape of a cross... beads that little Montana Indian hands had strung together just for me... hell, it made me want to cut them another cheque right then and there...

... all the other charities should take notes from those Indians in Montana... you want my money?.. .do more than just send me stickers with my name on them once a year... do more than just beg every single week for donations... only beg once a month or so... when you hit me every week, it just goes to show where MY donation is really going... postage and envelopes probably...

... look... I don't mind giving mindlessly to charities that do good things... and I will continue to do so... but let me tell you... those Indians running that school out in Montana have made it a pleasure to give to charity again... and I mean that.. all that crap signed by some guy begging for money that is always enclosed in the letters?... I just throw it away and write the cheque... but the Indians?... I've read their school's newsletter... twice...

... maybe I'm wrong... or maybe I'm just jaded.... but it sure feels nice to be appreciated for a mere twenty-five bucks....

Art....

... ouch... this'll teach me to keep my mouth shut, I guess....

... listen up.... never tell an alpaca that his photoshopping abilities suck, people... they do so get riled up... and the wrath of an alpaca is not a pretty thing to witness... Zevon just spun in his grave, by the way....

... John, sir, I owe you one....

Laziness...

... since it is a sleepy Sunday evening here on the ranch... and since it is also the eve of my dear Mother's departure towards her home... I feel that the mood of my homely hearth is settling down easy into a Robert Service kind of night... old Robert, good lord... a sturdy man if there ever were one - and yet a man who struggled with his work at times... but, hell, he never let that bother him... he'd just write a poem about having nothing to write about... you just have to admire that, people...

... anyway, the ditty below is called "Laziness"... and it fairly sums up where my Monday seems to be headed... well, at least that is the plan... see, one never knows how their muse will waver.. for me, there is nothing... for Service, well, the last lines of this one sum it up perfectly.... so read happily on, dear rubberneckers... as I always say, everyone should read more Service....

Laziness, by Robert W. Service

So sing to the praise of the fellows who laze
Instead of lambasting the soil;
The vagabonds gay who lounge by the way,
Conscientious Objectors to toil.
But lest you should think, by this spatter of ink,
The Muses still hold me in thrall,
I'll round out my rhyme, and (until the next time)
Work like hell - doing nothing at all.

... and with that, I bid you goodnight... it's been a long week....

Words for Birds...

... I was just casually thumbing through my Gaming and Idling Miscellany looking for some inspiration for today's activities when I stumbled upon a fact that struck me strange...

.. did you morons know that the "sport" of falconry has a whole different language that goes with it?... unbelievable...I sure didn't know that... then again, well, I don't really hang out with the types of fellows who play with expensive birds and drive Land Rovers... the tweed-jacketed wing-tipped crowd shun the likes of me....

.. still, check it out... according to my little book, here is how you talk about hawks...

Hawks do not breed, they eyer, and they are not hatched but disclosed. Hawks are reclaimed not tamed and they are not trained but made or manned..... (and much, much later on in the discourse on birds..) .... Of course, hawks are never actually ill - rather they are said to suffer from ungladness.

... indeed... an "unglad" hawk...

... you know, I do so love language... and I'm all for making up strange words and descriptions... but it seems to me that Falconers are just full of themselves...

Fauna...

.... I am continually amazed that the variety of local wildlife that visit my back yard... grey foxes, red foxes, coyotes, deer... turtles, lizards, and snakes... you just never know what you're going to see when you look out the window...

.. this morning though, I was sipping on some java as the sun was coming up and I had the window to the blogroom opened to allow my smoke to drift out... it was cool, probably 45 degrees, and I could hear the gentle, small sounds of morning clearly... a slight wind turning the leaves... and a train off in the distance trumpeting as it neared a crossing...

.. it was truly a moment of catharsis... my stress and funk draining away with the coming of the dawn... cigarettes... coffee.. and peace and quiet... no obligations for the day... I was totally relaxed here in my comfortable chair... when suddenly - out of nowhere - an owl hooted so loudly that I jerked my arm and spilled coffee all over my chest... it must have been about ten feet from my open window... little varmint scared the bejesus out of me...

.... damnation... I've never seen an owl around here before... what a way to start a morning....

Stretching the Rope...

.... yes, yes... it is true....

... believe it or not, children, I really am a patient man... it is just my nature... easy going and laid back.. hell, my ability to roll with the punches is a thing of legend within my family....

... and it is no exaggeration to say that I can sit, quite literally, and watch paint dry... like most men, I'm easily entertained, I guess.... and I'm here to tell you also that the whole "watched pot never boils" thing is a load of horseshit... it boils every time... I have watched...

.... my amazing Powers of Idleness have endowed me with, what I thought up until today, was an infinite pool of patience... but, dammit, no grown man should have to deal with two sick women alone in a house all day for a whole fucking week... I mean, c'mon... give a guy a break already.... cooking, cleaning, mopping, laundry, gourmet grilled-cheese sandwiches, changing bandages, providing boxes of tissues at every drip, heating up tankards of soup, tucking covers, running to town for ice creams, daubing at fevered foreheads... great bloody hell... every man has a breaking point.... EVERY man...

... what I need right now is to be slowly lowered into one of those sensory deprivation tanks with a pack of Camels, my Zippo, and a bottle of Lagavulin... ideally for no less than 24 hours... you Mothers and Fathers out there who do this crap full-time are either Saints or Insane... I haven't figured out which just yet....

Freud..

.... my sleep has been haunted recently... and my dreams have been fitful... hurried, hot, fast, and overpowering... waking up with my mind racing... I sleep deeply, but when I wake I am exhausted....

... last night I dreamt of a re-telling of a story an old buddy of mine once shared... over a few beers at the pub one evening, he told me that he had dreamed of me the night before... now, had he not been such a stud hoss and all-around fine fella, that statement would have triggered my flight or fight response... but as I knew him pretty well, I just settled back into the leather sofa with my McEwans and heard him out...

... and it was a good thing, too... as his dream was pretty interesting... in it, the small town we lived in had been hit by some riotous calamity... burning buildings... low-flying airplanes.. screaming Mommas and corpses in the street.. he had been running hither and thither trying to find a safe haven when he happened upon me... I was, evidently, carrying a bawling toddler and covered in blood and oil... and I was rallying people around near my house (which was on the edge of town to the South).. gathering them together and giving them directions on where we should all go.. what supplies to bring along... sending others back into the embattled city to carry messages... and people were flocking to me... wounded, crying, lamenting... real End of Days kinda crap... and the message was... "..get to the cave at Lunan Bay as quick as you can... spread the word.. it is the only safe place..."

... I was enthralled by the story... for in it, I was actually doing something useful... and secondly, well, there ARE no caves at Lunan Bay.... and yet that was what he dreamed... I'm still amazed at how vividly he remembered it... and how it has stuck with me all these years later...

... the mind is a tangled place, rubberneckers... it really is...but what does it all mean?... who knows... hell, maybe we aren't supposed to understand our dreams... just lay back and enjoy them....

Update:... ... and just you guys know, my dreams last night were amazingly varied... in one I was happily swimming along with a pod of dolphins when they decided I wasn't cool to hang with anymore and started biting me.... In another I was being slowly ravished by a sexy little nymph... and in another I was trying to kill a large frog with my cricket bat but it kept jumping away just in time... and no, I have NOT been digging into my mother's supply of pain meds...

Hooray!...

... as I was finishing up my morning ablutions in the shower today, a thought came to me...

... the gentleman who invented the Mach III razor really does deserve a medal or something... they truly do kick ass, those razors... I mean, I had just put a new head on the razor and wow, people... what a difference that makes... chin whiskers?... shorn smooth in an instant.. touch-up job on the boys?.. easy-peasy... talk about ultra-fine precision engineering... nary a nick or scrape...

... God, I love my Mach III...

... I pity those poor fools from antiquity.. shaving their boys with straight razors and such... I mean, c'mon... just imagine!... that'd be downright hazardous....

... then again, perhaps they tweezed... I just don't know... but either way, it boggles the mind that there once was a world with no Mach III...

... civilization and progress, rubberneckers... I do so love it...

Back to UT...

.... I was asked to pick up my guitar last night and provide some entertainment... and, of course, I acquiesced... hey, entertainment is what I do... especially of late....

... after all, I hadn't picked up the guitar in a few months... well, not very much anyway... and my finger tips have started to soften... so I ended up playing for about an hour... bloody hell, my fingers are sore now as I type this... I guess I really should play more often...

... anyway, I just watched the Sun come up and it looks like today is going to be a pretty day.... pink horizon, with a blue sky above it... the drive back up to the Medical Center should be pleasant.... we'll see...

Meme #5

... heads-up, y'all... the entertaining Richmond of One For the Road is the latest in line for the beatings... take note....

... still, I shall comply to her evil wishes in the sincere hope that some day she shall be reformed of this Meme deal.... so okay... on with the show.....

List seven songs you are into right now. No matter what the genre, whether they have words, or even if they're any good, but they must be songs you're really enjoying now. Post these instructions in your blog along with your seven songs. Then tag seven other people to see what they're listening to.

Okay, here are my seven songs that I am really into right now (and some I have been continually into for a couple of years) in no particular order...

1. "The Old Home Fill'er Up and Keep On Truckin' Café" by C.W. McCall... I still love the line where C.W. says "She was built like a burlap sack full of bobcats, she had it TOOOOGETHER!".. it mists me up....

2. "Goddamn Lonely Love" by the Drive-by Truckers...

3. "Bless Your Beautiful Hide" as performed by Howard Keel in the 1954 version of "Seven Brides for Seven Brothers."

4. "Mexican Home" by John Prine....

5. "Sweet Child of Mine" by G'n'R....

6. "Boom Boom Mancini" by Warren Zevon... "if you can't take the punches, it don't mean a thing"... indeed...

7. "If I Had a Million Dollars" by Barenaked Ladies....

... and you guys know how it works now.... I tag Acidman, Velociman, Dax, and Sam... and long shall it ever be so....

Tired....

... the saga continues, people... drugs, blood, and toast with butter and apple jelly... it's quite nice really... it sorta boils everything in life down to a nice, thick gravy, and deals it out in little handy spoonfuls.... concentrated stuff...

... one thing is for certain, though... I could never be an ER nurse... and hey, that's cool.. knowing that fact doesn't bother me.... a man's gotta know his limitations... and I'm certainly finding out where mine are these days...

... personal exploration is not always a pretty thing, I guess... but I do have to admit... finding out where my boundaries are is pretty interesting... boldly going, rubberneckers... boldly going....

Packing...

... this post got me started thinking this morning....

... I remember taking my Cousin camping two years ago... Big Daddy wasn't very experienced, but he really wanted to go... so we headed up to a gigantic outdoor emporium in Knoxville and he loaded up... new pack, sleeping bag, etc... he bought some sweet equipment that day.... all of my crap is ten to fifteen years old, but still in great condition... Lowe Alpine pack, Ajungilak bag... North Face tent....

.. I remember us packing together the next day... with me showing him how to individually wrap each item as he placed them in his pack.. and in what order to layer them for best access as we were on the trail... socks, underclothes, food, and gear... all sealed in individual plastic bags... secure from the unexpected rain storm or accidental fall into a stream... and I explained to him how his pack (even though it weighed nearly sixty pounds when we finished) would float if he tossed it in the creek... he was amazed... it was as if some dark art had been illuminated for him...

... I know how to pack a pack... I know how to stow a load so that it does not dig into your shoulders or hips... how to adjust the straps so that they are easiest on your body... I know how to layer and prioritize your most needed equipment for quickest access... and now, so does my Cousin.....

.. sometimes you look at the world around you and see the strangest things...a parity and a compassion in the oddest of locales... and sometimes, well, a mirror image of an alternative path in a small town Walmart....

.. thanks, Army Wife... great post...

Biscuits....

... well, the deed is done... and my nauseated Momma is happy reclining in a warm family room... replete with cozy blanket, puke bucket, and Percocet... the coming days will be hard on her, for sure, but she's a tough old bird... and she wants this... so it is good....

... anyway, I spent most of the day watching a gaggle of octogenarians play cell phone tag with each other in the 2nd floor waiting room at the UT Medical Center.. it was truly mesmerizing... those old coots and ladies... giggling as they buzzed their sister's cell phone two seats away...

.. five of them and their spouses sat in the same little area as my Aunt and I... and by the end of the night we were almost family to them... I guess the boredom and stress of hanging around in a hospital for 9+ hours bonds people... mutual suffering... denial... or fear of the unknown... and hey, we all deal with it in our own way... me and my Aunt?... drinking coffee, pacing, and biting our fingernails... those old crusties?.. phone-tag, laughter, and homemade bacon and egg biscuits made by Eddie (Sister Susan's husband who always gets up early and cooks breakfast) cheered their hours...

... sure, they were just as worried about their "big sister" as she was undergoing her back surgery... who, by the way, was all of 100 pounds and 90 years old... but they did not let the facts of age, life, or the cost of prescriptions bay them from enjoying being together... even if it WERE under such dire circumstances.... they were a real, honest-to-goodness, old-school Family... sisters laughing as brothers in law joked about something that took place forty years ago... brothers sending text messages about the size of their brother's "equipment" to their aging sister-in-law... to be quite honest, it was refreshing... they were family... they were together... they were worried about their sister/sister-in-law... and they were dealing in the only ways they knew how...

... I was honored to watch them... and I was honored to get a chance to meet them and talk.... hell, it took my mind off of my own worries... and they made me envious too....

Cleavage...

.... tomorrow is the beginning of a new era for my dear Mother... and I do not envy her the next few days... I certainly do not... hell, just imagining her four-hour surgery gives me the willies... and the painful recovery?.. I can't even go there... it is much too perilous....

... but being the selfish soul that I am, I cannot help but look upon this whole ordeal and feel a strong tinge of sadness.. not for her, of course, but for myself... for, after all, it was that maternal bosom that nurtured me when I was a babe in arms... lovingly provided sustenance for my growing body... gave me a soft nook to recline in as a toddler... and provided me with reasons to belt my teenage friends who dropped by the pool when I was in high school.... and they'll will be gone forever...

.... childhood landmarks, changed forever by the tools of a surgeon, will be laid waste... in a medical game of Switch-It!, DDs will be replaced by a more discreet (and more manageable, I'm told) C-cup of femininity...

... sure, I'm happy for her... and I'll keep her here at the house for a few days until she heals up... and I know that in the long run this is the best course of action for her continued good health... but part of me, well, part of me is going to pine... I can just feel it...

Sick...

... my better half was ill yesterday and I played nursemaid all day... fetching crackers and tissues while she slipped in and out of a cold-medicine coma... the poor thing... actually though, she's a pretty good sick person... I mean, she whined a little and sneezed a lot... but otherwise she was cool... I made her soup.. mushroom soup... and I made lemonade because she asked for it... and just generally let her sleep on the couch all day and brought her whatever she wanted... comforted by British accents courtesy of BBC America, she rested all day....

... but if it had been me?... no way... everyone in the neighborhood would know I was sick... hell, I would be calling up friends continents away just to let them hear my creaky, phlegm-clogged breathing... it's bad... I am the World's Worst Sick Person... when I'm sick, I have an overwhelming desire to make sure everyone everywhere knows just how rotten I feel.... luckily, I don't get sick much...

... anyway, after a day spent nursing, I got to thinking last night... specifically, about how we're all so different and why that is so... how we all turned out the way we are... being born with a certain mindset and a certain disposition and abilities.... and how our lives - from the moment we're hatched - are changed by our adventures, education, and relationships over time... how we ended up being molded into the people we are now... I mean, why is it that when I'm sick I turn into a totally different person?... all needy and pitiful?... and her?... she just endures with no need for babying...

.. I don't know... but it just struck me as odd... how a totally different side of my personality could be uncovered by the common cold...

5:32AM

... it's true, you know... that old saying...

... sometimes I sits and thinks... and sometimes I just sits....

... good Lord...

Jo Guest...

... ever have a moment of fleeting fancy that you just could not resist?... an itch that just had to be scratched?.... maybe while on an internet shop or watching that crap channel that sells cubic zirconium stones the size of marbles?... or what about while rummaging around e-Bay whilst a little too ginned up?... well, yeah, me too... and the little treasure arrived a few weeks ago...

... it's kinda depressing, really... but I am now the proud owner of a truly gigantic poster of one Miss Joanne Guest... sucker is huge, too... 4 feet X 6 feet... what I was thinking when I bought it is beyond me... surely I was in a combined state of drunkenness and horned-up insanity... that can, after all, be the only explanation.. but regardless, she is here... snuggled in a shipping tube that is leaning against a corner of the blogroom...

... of course when I unpacked her I was full of anticipation... especially because I had no recollection of ordering her to begin with... she was truly a surprise... and trust me, people, the smack that struck me in the back of the head as my wife gazed on as she was unfurled is now a thing of myth and legend...

... anyway, although she is here now, I have to admit that I've always had a soft spot for Miss Guest.. which is strange, really, because blondes just don't do it for me... but there is just something about the way she arches her back that is absolutely enthralling... the girl must be double-jointed or something... believe me, ladies and gentlemen... I've seen videos and the girl has real talent... special abilities, so to speak... of course, she's never done any hardcore work... and hey, I am torn over that... one the one hand I do respect her immensely for only getting her tits out and showing some skin... but another part of me wants to see her nailed by a guy sporting a woody the size of a toddler's arm... over and over again... in slow motion..

.. but be all that as it may, here I sit with my bigger-than-life poster of Joanne Guest and no place to put it... and no recollection of buying her...

... so, while most of my tales end with some great, mind-bending view of society in decline, a fart joke, or something wonderfully insightful about the frailties of humanity and living life to the fullest, this post isn't like that.... no... it is different....

... for today, I must get shed of my poster of Miss Guest... lest I myself become surplus to requirements around these parts... I'll show you the photo in just a moment... her pinned down with my old autographed cricket bat and pet Gila Monster..... which, yeah, I know is just wrong... had I had my way I would have pinned her down with something else..

.... anyway, the bidding starts at three dollars..... so, who wants her?.... trust me.. she's worth more than three bucks..... hell, I paid fifteen for her myself not two weeks ago...

Meme #4

... well, here we go again, rubberneckers... this time it comes to you courtesy of everyone's favorite Blue Tige...

20 Things about ME!

1. Best memory? ... I'm torn... it's a toss-up between getting hitched.... graduating from bootcamp.... or first hearing the best compliment I ever received.. each of those three things are The Best in their own way....

2. Most terrible day? ... I'd say that it was the day my Father died, but that would be wrong.. he was finally out of pain, so that was actually a good day if you look at it right... so, worst day?... probably the day my younger Brother told me he had cancer too...

3. Birth City? ... Cleveland, Tennessee... yes, yes.... I was hatched south and brought kicking and screaming back north to McMinn County...

4. Favorite thing to do? .... shoot pool... and firearms.. and the breeze with my mates...

5. Hollywood Crush? .. Salma Hayek.... without a doubt... she's one curvy broad... and curves are gooooood....oh, and Erica Shaffer....

6. Favorite food?... macaroni and cheese... all day long and twice on Sundays.....

7. City you want to visit most and why? ... Mombassa.. it's a "Roland the Headless Thompson Gunner" thing... revenge is a thought I can dwell on at times.....

8. Fantasy/dream that you want to come true? .. that thing I keep dreaming about... I REALLY wish it would come true... the World would truly be a better place.... but me telling you?... ain't gonna happen, friend.....

9. Favorite sport? ... college football....

10. How long have you been married?... coming up on twelve years.... twelve years next month.... how she has put up with me is anyone's guess.... it truly is some sort of miracle... she's a saint...

11. Favorite song and why? ... I can't name just one... but I suppose if I had to, it would be something by Jimmy Buffett... and why?... just because...

12. Someone you most admire? ...Mark Knophler.... and the Original Spaceman/Stringbean, James Taylor.....

13. Someone you hate and why? ... hate is such a strong word... but yeah, there are a few... right off the bat, I guess I would have to say Carrot Top... bastard may have some guns but he has pushed the social acceptance of redheads in society back about forty years....

14. Secret crush? ... you're joking right?... c'mon man...

15. One (maybe 2) rule/s you live by? ... if I can't find anything good to say, I keep my mouth shut...

16. Do you believe in God? ... yes, most of the time... but today has been particularly difficult...

17. A dark secret (we won't tell) ... I'm afraid of the dark.... always have been... must have me a nightlight... preferably a Mickey Mouse or Donald Duck one...

18. Most treasured item and why? ... my pocketknife... it has a million uses and I carry it everywhere....

19. If you could turn back time, what would you do and why? ... I'd probably roll back time to an era where Oprah, Dr. Phil, Donahue, and Ricki Lake were just nippers and break their kneecaps with a crowbar... not that I would enjoy crippling a child or anything.. but it'd sure save everyone now a world of grief.... and, hey.. I'm all about giving something back to my community.... I'd do these things out of love for YOU people....

20. Last but certainly not least, what kind of "work" do you do and do you enjoy it? ....very good question... see, I am much like Rick in Casablanca... except I've never run guns in Africa.... so just use your imagination... and yes, I enjoy the hell out of it.... and hey, I look pretty damn good in my tuxedo if I do say so myself....

... and as I said... I tag the following kind, gentle bloggers.... Acidman, Daddy Dax, Sam, and Velociman...

Shopping....

... today promises to be loads of fun... I'm driving up to Knoxville in the afternoon to grab lunch and do some shopping... whoo boy... things on the list for me to purchase today:

.. digital camera (I lost my camera somewhere during the melee that was the Wreckyll in Jeckyll)...

.. an upright heavy bag.. lately I've been courting the idea of beating on something until my knuckles bleed... and since an Everlast bag doesn't complain much, I figure that is the safest route...

.. underwear... yes, it is true... and hey, I'm not proud of it either... but circumstances of late are herding me towards the Dark Side... I'm thinking boxers... that way I can just wear them around the house and people will think I'm wearing shorts... I'm pretty sure thongs are out of the equation all together though.. but I guess it all depends on how hard the saleswoman is pushing... we'll see...

.. guitar strings.... Martin light gauge... my current stash is running low and I broke a string last night as I was delivering a horribly overzealous rendition of Honky Tonk Women...

.. lunch.. preferably some kind of pasta dish... I've been craving pasta recently for some strange reason....

... so, well, there you go... I'll be sure to let y'all know how it works out when I get back... I guess we'll see if my Hunter/Gatherer gene is still in place... it should be intact.... I channeled a pretty damn good caveman last night... so I anticipate success...

UPDATE: ... scratch everything I said... as of noon EST, we just got snowed in... and it's a pity, too... I was psyched!...

Hippos....

... while joyously relieving myself this morning, I thumbed through the January edition of Smithsonian and happened upon a very entertaining article on the Troubled Hippos of Zimbabwe.... now, while the text of the thing was quite enjoyable and fact-filled, I could not help but be drawn to the photographs of said Troubled Hippos....

.. lookit... I'm just as sensitive to the dire plight of wild beasts as the next guy, and I feel for them... I really do... but those pictures just wigged me out....

.. have you ever seen a close-up of a hippo's face?... great bloody hell... the intricacies and intermingling of horrors expressed on their grimaces is almost overwhelming... pores clogged and bulging with swamp-water puss... hair follicles smudged with pieces of the last crocodile lunch... shades of brown, pink, green, and deathly blue run down their pock-marked necks... tiny carbuncled ears that flick incessantly.. cold beady eyes... gaping nostrils jutting out from their purplish hide as if a corpse left in the sun too long had cracked open to reveal the red, working innards... sharp, misshapen, fang-like teeth... wiry whiskers stubbling out from their fatboy jaw-line.... Jesus, what an evolutionary train wreck...

.. sure, the article was ok... but the pictures were horrible... I mean, just imagine their life for a moment.. swimming around in a cesspool by day and roaming the savannah during moonless African nights...

... all that and they have a poaching problem too.... It's a sad state of affairs...

... and while I know it is a bad, bad thing to say.. one could almost imagine a conscientious poacher as a kind of mercy killer... hippos, God love'em... they are some seriously ugly varmints...

Myths...

... you know...

... today has been like the Second Labor of Heracles with Iolaus on vacation...

... and ain't nobody going to Mycenae neither...

... but tomorrow will be better.. I can just feel it....

Gas...

.. I left the Dentist's office in high spirits today... and as I was zipping along the curvy roads towards home, I realized that - with half of my face, lips, and tongue totally stoned from the Novocain - I can sing "Things to do in Denver When You're Dead" in a passable imitation of Zevon... which explains a lot, I suppose....

... anyway, all I got today was the "pin-up build-up" .. which, yeah, I know sounds kind of kinky, but I assure you it is not... the result is that I have to go back next Tuesday to get the little "pinned-up built-up" dear crowned...

.. by the way... does anyone know where I can get a bottle or two of that nitrous oxide they use?... that stuff rocks...

Numb...

.... well, I'm off to the Dentist, people.... not that I mind, really... it's no big deal... but I thought it might cheer all of y'all's wizened little hearts to know I that I was being put under the drill today... I know how you people get all excited when you hear that I'm in pain, sick, or injured....

.. anyway, have no fear... I will be happily ensconced in the blogchair by noon... drooling quietly on the keyboard as usual.. only this time my gums will be numb....

Awards...

... well, I see that Acidman has kept his title as King of the Crap-Bloggers.. good on ye, big boy... good on ye...

.. and I also see that I have been given an award of sorts myself.. how charming.. I feel so special.... actually, I think I'm the first blogger to receive such an award...

.. so in preparation for the awards ceremony (and speaking of Crap-Blogging) I have just consumed a box of Kickers for supper.. the kind I so lovingly wrote about here...

Decrepit....

... lo!.. how the mighty have fallen... I'm here to tell you people, age certainly sucks the juice right out of you.. Hell, I'm only 33, for crying out loud... sifting through the boxes in the spare bedroom this afternoon, I came across some great photos... me and my date at the senior prom... me at six years of age chopping up a tonka truck with my Christmas axe... me standing in uniform so my Momma could take a photo of me in the living room... where has the time gone?.. and who was that guy looking back at me?..

... I actually got up and went to the mirror and looked... and damn, I didn't see the guy anywhere... sure, the freckle patterns are the same.. same thin, bird-lips... the eyes are the same... they just have bags under them now... but everything else is gone... my cheeks, chin, and nose are totally different... my heyday is finished, people... I peaked somewhere way back in the mists of time and didn't even notice it... and I'm now steadily sliding downhill towards the grave...

.. it was incredible to imagine it, really... how different I am now at 33... check out this photo of me when I was 20...

... see what I mean?.. damn, I am depressed

.. sitting in the floor thumbing through the photographs, I would occasionally lay one aside.. perhaps to scan for later... and as the pile grew higher, Helga the Nordic Trak giggled... I swear she did... after all, there was no one else in the room... no one else in the whole house... I shot her a mean look, but there was no response...

... and just now - as I was typing this up - in a clear, strong, and deeply accented voice, she spoke again... "You're kidding yourself, Eric. I can't give you that back."

... I didn't answer her, of course... because, well, she's right.. she can't give that back to me... and besides, it would have been a little nutty to have a conversation with a Nordic Track... and hey, I don't really want to be twenty again anyway... she misunderstands my intentions completely... "the older the violin, the sweeter the music", I guess.. and I just need a bit of re-stringing..... and she CAN do that for me....

How was your day?...

... I've spent the better half of the day searching through seventeen thousand albums, bags, and boxes of photographs... truthfully, I never knew I had so many... and disorganized?.. you are just as likely to find a photo of me as a crawling toddler mixed in with the canoe trip to Alaska.... it is insane.... and you know, it normally would not bother me.. it really wouldn't... hey, I'm all about the little surprises in life.. finding something out-of-place and digging the little thrill of an unexpected memory flash.. but this is just ridiculous...

.. there is one photo in particular I'm looking for and it's obviously hiding... and that just pisses me off... and one cannot enjoy his Corinthian state properly if he is aggravated...

.. anyway, as much as it is disappointing to have failed in finding my desired object, I have managed to find some good stuff in those boxes and bags... oh yeah, skipping and jumping up and down memory lane today, people... that's been me... as a matter of fact, I had so much fun that my wee legs are tired now... skipping and jumping never has really agreed with my normal disposition.... and who knew searching for an old photograph could be so damn taxing....

Gradients...

... as I was sitting here doing the latest meme to pass some time, I decided to take a break and do some reading... goodness!... and looky what I found!!.. a Scale of Idleness!!... behold:

... "Asleep, Slothful, Idle, Louche, Corinthian, Gaming, Active, Athletic, Coltish, Sporting, Competitive, Vigorous, Agonistic, and Olympian"... now I have a gauge!!...

... hey, you learn something new every day... amazing stuff.... and just in case you're wondering, I plan to hover near Corinthian all day today...

Meme #3

... thanks to Ms. Sine Qua Non for the meme-wedgie on this one... sorry for the delay, sis....

Five Songs I currently love: (not necessarily in this order)

Plastic Jesus - Paul Newman in Coolhand Luke... it's on repeat on the blogstation right now...

One For My Baby - Robbie Williams

That's the Way the World Goes Round - John Prine

The CB Song - The Legendary Shack Shakers

The Bad Touch - Bloodhound Gang

... whew... I feel so drained now...

... hereby tagged are my old friends... Velociman, Robbie, Mr. Dax, and Sambo....

Meme #2

.. ok... here we go again, people... and once again, it is the lovely Nancygail who has snapped the meme towel at my ass... and Dax too!.. hot damn!.. he's getting double-tagged!!..

.. let us dig in with a gusto:...

8 Requirements for a Perfect Romantic Partner:

1. Must enjoy peanut butter.... that is very, very important to me...
2. Must be shorter than me... I have issues with Amazonians... and I scare easy in romantic situations.. .
3. Must have an incredible sense of humor.. and be able to find the humor in everything...
4. Must enjoy singing loudly to my Bloodhound Gang CD....
5. Must think I'm a sexy beast and want to ravish me like a short Amazonian....
6. Must be able to tell a damn fine story totally from her imagination.... .
7. Must see the genius of Warren Zevon, Tom Waits, and Me..
8. Must enjoy being herself.... comfortable in her own skin...

... y'all know the drill... I hereby tag Acidman, Dax, Velociman, and Sammy....

Meme #1...

... ok... before I start, I just want to throw a big ole Mea Culpa out there to all the people who've seen fit to tag me with memes.. I'm sorry... I'm getting around to them slowly but surely... loafing is taking all of my time lately... so I beg your pardon... being me is a full-time job, people...

.... anyway, the dear, sweet, and wonderful Nancygail tagged me with a meme a while back... dammit.... so before I go any further and answer her questions, I am officially tagging Acidman and Velociman and Dax and Sam.. I know how they all hate these memes... personally, while I'm not totally into it, I don't really mind either way... but those four?... they all hates'em... so let it be known throughout the blogosphere... spread the word and bang the gongs... any time someone tags me, the only people getting tagged back are Rob and Kim and Dax and Sam... even if they have already done the same meme before, I don't care....

.... and it shall remain thus until their anger and bile rises up enough for them to hunt down and administer beatings to every meme-tagger who ever walked the planet... sorry, Nancygail... no hard feelings, sister?... now, on to the task at hand....

4 jobs I've had:
... good question.... my first job was as an assistant to a carpenter.... it truly sucked... hot in the summer and cold in the winter... and hammers hate my fingers evidently.... next I worked as a clerk in a hardware store... surrounded by elderly bums who had no other skill than picking out the right "weight" of nails for any strange task.. and me looking like I'd just stepped out of a Norman Rockwell painting.... next?... US Marine at the age of 17... five great years.... after that, I just drifted from technology position to technology position until I became a free-man back in February of last year.... worked for the Department of Trade and Industry in Scotland for a while... but now?.. hey, I'm a professional Creative Loafer and part-time Idler... and trust me... it's a full-time job... not for the faint of heart....

4 movies I can watch over and over:
... excellent.. "The Princess Bride", of course.... one of my favorites.... "History of the World, Part I", as well... because I like yelling for the "Pissboy" and saying "It's GOOD to be da KING" at improper times around the household... next up, well, I suppose I'd have to say "Lonesome Dove"... shit, I watched it so much that the audio on the videos started dragging.... I was gifted the DVD for Christmas last year and it rocks.... and finally... "Mr. Holland's Opus"... love that movie... and I'm still in deep lust with Rowena Morgan too... deeply.....

4 TV Shows I Love:
.... I don't watch a lot of television... maybe three or four hours a week.... and if I do, it is a documentary or something crazy.... but when I was a kid?.. "Simon and Simon".. their theme tune rocked... "Sanford and Son"... "M.A.S.H."... or anything which featured the Solid Gold dancers... remember them?.. I still watch "Scrooged" at Christmas and get all excited.... can you tell I haven't watched TV in a while?....

10 highly rated shows I have never seen:
.. all of them.... ALL of them..... Modern Culture makes me want to slit my wrists even more than Big Hair and Rockers Wearing Make-up did back in the 80s...

4 places I've traveled to:
.... much like Johnny Cash, I sometimes feel like I've been everywhere... ahh... ok... Scotland, India, Bangladesh, France.. and a lot of other places I don't want to remember....

4 Fave Dishes:
... first, this question is impossible... I have about 264 favorite dishes..... I will (and have) eaten just about anything and enjoyed the Hell out of it... but I suppose if I had to choose, I'd say Macaroni and Cheese was top of the heap... I'm definitely more into the savory than the sweet.. and next up would be anything grilled... ribs, chicken, or steak.... My Spaghetti Sauce would be next... I wake up craving it sometimes.... and number four?... I suppose I should say something naughty here, but I just can't bring myself to do it.... so, I'll play it safe and say cheesecake....

4 Sites I visit daily:
... oh, just great... you didn't have ME on your list, but you saw fit to tag me.... good....payback is a bitch.... four sites I visit daily?... I visit like 250 blogs every day... Christ, woman... I'm unemployed self-employed!!...

4 places I'd rather be:
... the Six Pence Pub in Savannah... The Last Drop in Edinburgh... the bar at The Palm in Buckhead.... or changing a flat tire at 2am in Chicago...

4 bloggers I am tagging:
... Rob, Kim, Sam, and Dax (again)... and anyone else I find who claims to hate doing memes.... let the beatings commence...

Aw, Heck..

... lately I have become a complete fan of John Prine... I'd never heard his work until recently, and the Wife hates it... his album "John Prine - Live" is chocked full of earworms.. drives her totally nuts... but hey, it's all Acidman's fault.... back at that first blogmeet I attended in October of 2003, he played and sang many Prine songs back in the cabin at Blood Mountain... and to a rapt audience, I might add... well, that planted the seed....

.... later on the Closet Extremist tortured me in my living room by belting out a portion of "Grandpa Was a Carpenter"...I'd asked for it, of course... and it was not a song I'd heard before... and the seed of John Prine addiction began to sprout....

... needless to say, a few short months later and I'm knee-deep in Prine CDs.... being and obsessive man is a bad, bad thing, dear readers....

... anyway, since tomorrow is Valentine's Day, I thought I would punish enthrall you wonderful readers with a chunk of Mr. Prine at his finest... the immortal song of love, "Aw Heck"... it's a fine, fine piece... and it is dedicated to all you lovely chickadees out there who take the time out of your busy days to drop by this humble blog...

... so Happy Valentine's Day, girls... may you all end up with someone singing that song to you in an off-key voice with bended knee, a box of chocolates, and a handful of red roses....

... aw heck, indeed..... Happy Valentine's Day...

Equipment....

.. Ladies, ya'll know I loves ya... but let me have your attention for just a moment... listen very closely... whatever you do... no matter how tempted you may be... no matter how rankled your curiosity may grow.. do NOT click on this link.. just don't do it... please don't...

Curses...

... thanks to blogson RSM, I now know what my problem is... I have Gingervitis.... but do not weep for, me.... nay, gentle readers... my curse is incurable.. but at least I'm not a Crap-blogger...

Gone...

... my Father built a swing in our backyard when I was little... and a monstrous thing, it was.... huge and rough... made of materials scrounged from the far corners.... the swing itself was made of lengths of 2X6's robbed from the Sweetwater Depot back when the depot was being torn down in the early 1980s.. the pillars supporting the swing were Sweet Gum switch ties.. rough and knotty railroad rejects that had seen their day long ago.... sixteen feet tall and sunk four feet deep into the rocky earth of our backyard... the chain connecting the two was made from an old logging chain that my Grandpa had handed down to Dad when he had gotten his first car back in '62... I suppose he figured that, knowing my Dad, he'd run off the road somewhere - due to excessive speed - and need to be pulled out of the ditch by a passing Samaritan... so he, in Fatherly love, gave the boy a log chain...

... how it ended up supporting that old swing is anyone's guess... perhaps the two ideas overlapped in my Father's mind... driving fast and needing to be saved by a passerby.. or hanging up the chain so that it could carry the swinging joyfulness of family and friends back at home... a different kind of saving, sure... but it was a kind of saving for him, I believe... as it turned out, the chain was able to fulfill both purposes equally....

... I remember sitting on that swing with him the evening before I left for basic training.... rocking back and forth and listening to the creaking of the old, rusty chain as it bore our weight... it was a very quiet time and he didn't say much... we just sat and rocked... later that night he had to leave for work, but I do remember us just sitting on the swing together and apart... both of us quiet... and both of us lost in our own thoughts.... Parris Island looming on my 17-year old horizon....

.. I was just thinking of that swing today... and how I would have said things back then... important things... if I'd have known then what I know now... instead of just sitting there mindlessly letting the swing take me back and forth through the Spring evening.... while I and my Father both quietly struggled with the thoughts in our minds....

We Shall Overcome...

... life is full of battles... some large and some small... struggles for supremacy... achieving dominance.... be it with your inner demons, personal growth, nature, warfare, or matters of the heart... we fight everyday to hold our stability and overcome our obstacles... find the gold at the end of the rainbow, grasp the golden ring, lay the homecoming queen or the bespectacled valedictorian, etc...

... Great Men have pontificated long and hard about these ideas... poets have penned verses so sweet and touching as to melt even the basest cruel heart... politicians, even, during times of national strife, have stood and warbled on with words that would rouse even the surliest of bosoms to applauding patriotism...

.. me?... hey, all you get is a blog entry... for today, Helga has capitulated... unconditionally surrendered to my grasping hands... victimized by rubber mallet and crescent wrench... overcome by ˜sweat o the brow' and dynamic muscle tension... she caved... yes, children... I won the fight... but now I am too tired to use abuse her... even though she deserves it very, very badly... the little wench....

Sunday Snow...

... well, well.... it's actually snowing here.... unbelievable.. a dusting fell last night, and now more has started to fall.. large flakes... slowly falling and finding their resting place in the grass.... from where I sit looking out the window, they swirl slightly before hitting the ground... I guess that means that we have a slight SSW wind sneaking around the corner of the house... it's quite beautiful, this falling snow... the pattern in the distance is of slightly slanting flakes... but closer to where I sit, well, they are caught in the vortex created by the breeze...

I guess this is my Sunday morning entertainment... watching the snow fall while nursing a cup of coffee and a mug of orange juice...

... maybe I will wander outside later and see if I can make a snowman... I haven't done that in years... then again, perhaps I should celebrate this first snowfall by mixing a cocktail with it... maybe gather some snow and squeeze it hard into a ball.... then plop that baby into a martini glass and cover with a freshly shaken Cosmopolitan... after all, it is Sunday... and all I have to do today is cook a pork loin this afternoon...

... I so do love it when it snows...

Inner Peace...

... today was a perfect day for camping... overcast, 33 degrees, and a light snow falling... it's a disgrace, really... my cold weather equipment hasn't been used in years... what a waste...

... so I'm sitting here wondering if I should cook chicken tikka or slow-roasted garlic pork shoulder for tonight's tea, and I suddenly feel the urge to do an old-fashioned, honest to God runner.. you know.. like they say in Britain... "where's Eric?"... "dunno, mate.. ˜e dunna runna"... heh.... leave a note on the fridge saying... "hey, honey bunny... I'm off to the snowline for a few days... be back Tuesday!!.. Dinner is in the oven!... Love ya!"... and I almost reached for the ink pen... almost...

... then, of course, I realized that Tuesday is Valentine's Day... can you imagine the unheard-of immensity of the ass-kicking I would get when I showed back up on Tuesday with mild frostbite and no roses?... I can.. well, almost... but hey, the thought did zip through my noggin this afternoon... what can I say?... it's the truth....

.. I must have some Viking blood in me... Eric the Red, and all that... ahh, Hell... who am I kidding... I'm off to cook dinner... but later tonight, rest easy... for I will definitely be channeling the bearded, battle-axe wielding, spittle flecked, Thor worshipping, Greenland naming, pillaging side... he's definitely in there... and he needs some exercise....

... by the way... Helga (thanks, Richmond) is still being shewish.. but I tamed her a bit... even against her will... tomorrow she falls...

the Horror...

... a few nights ago the Wife dragged me away from the computer to watch The Rocky Horror Picture Show with her... she's memorized all the lyrics to every single song, so it is usually quite entertaining to watch her lilt along to the tunes and attempt to stay in step with the characters... hey, we're a laugh-a-minute around here...

... so, there we sat... her watching the show with her brain totally focused... and me sitting on the couch daydreaming of other things.. hey, it's really not a bad way to spend a lazy Thursday evening...

... anyway, the point is... the only song in the Rocky Horror that I totally get into is the last one... the one with the line "like a Masai in the rain"... I love that song... never mind, I'm wandering here...

... ok, fast forward a day or so and we're sitting in the living room totally engrossed in The Hunt for Red October... and who should we happen to see popping open hatches but Tim Curry....

... I lost it... for the entire rest of the movie, every scene where Curry appeared I imagined him wearing Dr. Frank-N-Furter's corset under his Russian Naval Tunic and teaching the sailors The Time Warp down in the galley... it was just wrong on so many levels...

... so take my advice, rubberneckers... while both movies are wonderful pieces of entertainment... don't watch them back-to-back... it will damage you... I promise...

Defeated...

... well, I'm kicking off my last night of freedom with an evening meal of gin and re-heated McDonald's chicken nuggets... for tomorrow, I die...

... as a matter of fact, I feel pretty damn near death right now and that's just from attempting to put the machine together....

... see, in precision engineering you'd better pay close attention to details... and herein is where the problem lies... the more fatigued, stressed, or emotional you get... well, the less you see the details... it is circular, perpetual thing... once you start making little mistakes, the feelings of fatigue, stress, and emotion become more present... thus more little oversights.. more mistakes.. and more confusion.... and eventually, oblivion....

... see, I TOLD you guys my mind doesn't do blueprints... it's just not wired that way...

.. for instance... two bolts were practically identical... one was 1cm longer than the other... one damn centimeter!... and each of them had special spacers and washers... well, I accidentally used the wrong one in the wrong spot.. on three separate occasions... bolts, washer, and spacer.... so with the machine nearing completion, I realized the mistake much, much too late.... the metal weights (15 ten pound weights) lay stacked on top of the first mistake, by the way... and then later, the second mistake... and then the third.. it was (and is) quite horrible....

... and yes, before you ask.. I DID read the assembly directions... but hey, feel my pain... checkit: imagine that each weight is impaled on two eight foot tall iron rods... meaning that you must lift each weight individually from the floor to the height of 8'1" to un-impale them... and each time you realize that the mistake you made is UNDER them... oh, and the weights are covered in a thin layer of oil that makes them slippery.... some sort of cruel management decision by the demigods at Nordic Trak probably....

... anyway, it is sufficient to simply state that I did that about eight damn times tonight... four times putting them on and four times taking them off... as of right now, I have retired in disgust to the blogroom to lick my wounds... tomorrow, though?... tomorrow is the day... the bitch is mine.... she will relent and be conquered, of that I am certain... and yes, I've already figured out that she is most definitely female.... for only a woman could be so hard to figure out and promise so much pain if you make a mistake with her....

... now all I need is to figure out what her name is.. so that I can curse her properly tomorrow ...

... I'm thinking "Olga"... that sounds kinda Nordic.....

Hmmm...

... now THIS is an interesting question, people...

... you guys know you can trust Uncle Eric, right?...

Nordic Torture...

... well, today's the day... my brand new Iron Maiden piece of exercise equipment should be here around lunchtime... and then the fun will really begin.. I have to tell you, putting the beast together is not something I am looking forward to...

.... still, it will be interesting to attempt the construction, I suppose.... I'm always up for new challenges... but my brain is not a logical one, and the idea of following a complex diagram all afternoon seems completely absurd... see, I am prone to flights of fancy and it's not good... even as a child playing with my Lincoln Logs my buildings resembled abstract, Dali-esque cattle pens more than they did the quaint cabins on the box lid.... it'll be a miracle if the thing works once I'm finished... it has about 63 pulleys... yes, PULLEYS... the machine will probably end up resembling some sort of hideously malformed radioactive Go-Bot... but I'm still going to give it a shot...

... with any luck, though, the contraption will be finished by the evening and ready for clothing to be hung on it... I really, really need to get in shape, but somehow I think just putting the thing together will leave me worn out, sweaty, and out of breath.... the closest I come to having an engineering mind is being able to create a kickass spaghetti sauce with 101 ingredients.... but pulleys, people... can you imagine?... this is going to be a nightmare....

Wrong...

... if you ever wonder how far we've fallen as a race of breathing beings, just check out the latest from Nerve... yes, yes... sex advice from Mascots.... good lord....

Reuben...

... well, well... it looks like Phin finally asked for the Sandwich Photo... Hot Damn.. I'm totally loving this new scanner, boys and girls....

... ok, before I start, I feel the need to give you people a little background.. I do so love me a Reuben Sandwich... thus, this post...

... once upon a time (about two years ago), I met up with Acidman and The Gang for dinner and drinks at the Six Pence Pub in Savannah... we had ourselves a knee-slapping good time as always... we were even told to "shush" on various occasions by the management, but we paid little heed... it was a real hoot in the Olde Southern Townie Style...

.. anyway, as you do when hobnobbing with locals, you ask them what fare is best at any particular restaurant... Rick suggested a burger... Georgia suggested fried fish... and Rob suggested the Reuben Sandwich... and being that I crave nearly incessantly for them babies, that's what I ordered...

... good God, people... when it arrived, it was four inches thick.. and it was a masterpiece... alternating layers - incredibly thin - of corned beef, sauerkraut, Swiss cheese, and Thousand Island Dressing... served up high on two wonderful slices of marbled Rye bread... without a doubt, the best Reuben Sandwich I have ever had... without a doubt...

... so, fast forward a couple of years.... me quietly living here in Smallville, Tennessee... which, I might add, is a Reuben Sandwich desert.... and suddenly the Wife gets an idea to vacation for a week in Manhattan... I was totally downtown with that...

... and when I arrived, I was not disappointed.... Manhattan has got to be the Mecca for Reuben Sandwiches... every shop on every corner served them... I'll bet I ate at least ten of them in seven days... some from fancy shops... some from delicatessens... some from fine Wine Houses... some from street vendors who were recent political émigrés from Afghanistan ... yeah, go figure.... but I ate my fill... and it was complete bliss... none of them measured up to the sandwich I devoured in Savannah, but they managed a pretty good impersonation.... and so, we come haphazardly to the photo... here it is...

... we'd just made it back to our suite in the Beekman Tower to watch a Tennessee football game on satellite... after a day spent wandering up and down Manhattan Island, I had nipped across the street to procure dinner and a six pack of Grolsch... my dinner?... an exquisitely greasy, tart, melted, and perfect Reuben Sandwich from the little shop that sits across from the United Nations Headquarters...

... Tennessee lost, by the way.... but what a sandwich... I was sitting at the table smelling it and feeling the buttery dampness of the grilled bread when the missus looked up from the UT game and asked to see aforementioned sandwich... I looked up at her, took a swig of Grolsch.... and then picked up half the sandwich and showed it to her.... and she snapped the photo.... Viola... me and my sandwich... isn't it just marvelous?... a truly happy moment...

... here is the jumbo version for those of you with proclivities to search out details....

... ladies and gentlemen... I sure miss Reuben sandwiches.... and once again, I can feel the cravings beginning to build... it is an ominous feeling.. the proverbial itch... I'm thinking a trip back to Savannah will happen soon... very soon....

Tuna....

... the trip to the dentist's office was quite pleasant after all... the little brunette hygienist even gave me a free toothbrush and a lollypop for being such a good boy when it was all over... and all in all, I really didn't mind her hovering over me and fondling my gums with her fingers...sure, it was a bit awkward at first as I am a skittish sort of fellow... but once she got into her groove, it was marvelous... she had the bluest eyes... and those babies latched onto my pearly whites with the focus and love of a true master plying her trade... see?... I'm the poster child of gentlemanliness when I'm in the right mood...

... anyway, I stopped at the Subway on the drive home and picked up a tuna sandwich... got home and tossed that sucker into the oven for a good toasting.. and while the bread was browning, I fired up a cigarette and chugged a cup of coffee...I mean, c'mon... she set me up with another appointment in six months... and the way I see it, I have to make her earn her keep... I mean, what's the point of turning up in six months with spotless incisors?... exactly... no point at all.... so bring on the coffee and cigarettes, I say...

.... in other news, I have to go back next Thursday to have an old chipped tooth fixed... they gave me some cool term to describe it, but I wasn't paying attention... I was still all loose and relaxed from my gum massage... but it was something like "Posted"... or "Built-Up"... something like that.. so it looks like I'll be going under the needle and drill on Thursday-next...

... the strange thing is, I can't remember when I chipped that tooth... and frankly, that's been bothering me... I'm usually pretty good at remembering stuff... especially when it concerns a hunk of my own body being lost, damaged, bit, hit, or cut.... strange though, that I can't remember it... it's been chipped for a few years now, I think...

... I do have a sneaking suspicion that it must have happened at a blogmeet though.... I always get damaged somehow when I attend one.. and if that is true - that it happened at a blogmeet - that would certainly explain why I don't remember it happening....

Pegged...

.. you know, it is truly frightening how well you guys know me... I am deeply honored... and quite scared, really...

Dentists....

... well, I'm off to the dentist... should be fun as it's been over a year since my last cleaning... I can hardly imagine the terror and dread the poor hygienist felt as I called and made my appointment the other day... I mean, just imagine the mountain of cigarettes I've smoked in a year?... the gallons upon gallons of coffee and tea I've consumed.... the poor lass, she's gonna faint when I lean back in that chair... close my eyes.. open my mouth wide and say.. "Jump on in, sweetheart"... the sheer magnitude of funk will slay her...

... I can almost picture it now... her tiny, delicate hands inching slowly closer to my fangs.. shaking with nervousness and fear of failure.. daunted, people...

... ahh.. it'll probably be alright... those hygienists are a sturdy bunch... at least my breath'll smell nice... I'll be sure to let y'all know when I get back...

.. oh, and one more thing before I hit the trail... check this out... not a single one of you rubberneckers (16 of you, so far - including me.) who commented to the previous post have yet to ask about the photo of me eating a sandwich... that's just wrong, dammit.... you people suck.... don't know which side of your bread gets buttered?....

... fine.. I'm going to post the picture ANYWAY and go on and on about my addiction to Reuben Sandwiches and how my thirst for them was slaked in NYC back in the autumn...

... who the hell do you people think you are?... newspapers for cleaning the table, thanks.. hey, it worked.... but not asking about the photo?... damn, you people truly are soul-crushers.... blogging sucks.... damn, I hate blogging....

3:45pm...

.... I took it upon myself today to clean the kitchen table.. and, people, what a monumental mistake...

... for those of y'all who've seen it, you will recall that the surface is glass.. nothing fancy or overly urbane.. just a simple table top...a place where one gathers together humble foodstuffs and munches them quietly while the television hums in the background... macaroni and cheese mostly... and corned beef hash... but, I digress...

... now, many of you will also recall the location of said table... sitting in the middle of a highly lit area of hardwood flooring... a tall glass door which leads out onto the deck standing behind....

... well, I've just spent about forty-five minutes of my dazzling life trying to clean that damn tabletop.. the way the light comes in from that door shows every streak and blemish on the glass... I broke a sweat on three separate occasions!.. (I had to rest from all of the exertion a couple of times)... rubbing, rubbing, squirting Windex, rubbing, rubbing, changing kitchen towels... Jesus... so, give it up, girls and fellow house-husbands... what's the damn secret?...

... oh, and by the way... I'm seriously loving this new scanner... anyone want to see a photo of me eating a sandwich?!... man, I love blogging...

Psyche...

.... as you gentle people may have guessed, I was recently forced to take given a bunch of photo albums that my darling Mother had saved... and full of treasures, they are... I find myself flipping through those albums - all misty-eyed - and seeing the Big Me just screaming to get out.. funny, really... I see those pictures and I think to myself... "Eric, old boy, you have never really changed... you're still that grinning little retard that you have always been.."

... actually, it's been eye-opening... seeing how the different shades of me when I was four are still bubbling to the surface now that I am 33..

... like this one, for instance.... it depicts myself and my cousin, Big Daddy C (as he is known around this blog.. you guys may remember him... he wrote this a few years ago).. we were born two months apart... me in October and he in December.. anyway, I found this photo and just smiled to myself...

... I'm sure that the person taking the photo was a female and misconstrued my machinations.... she probably thought... "awwww.. how cute... he's being a little MONSTER.. I should take a photo!.."..

... but me?... I see me saying something else in the back of my little mind... more along the lines of ... "RARR!!!... let me grab the BOOBIES!!".... yes, yes, even at four, it appears I was a pervert... I think one of my Aunts took that photo... and as troubling as wanting to grab one's Aunt's boobies is, I find a strange sense of comfort in that photo...

... it's like Anne Rice said, I guess... over time, we really are as flowers unfolding.. we just more completely become ourselves...

... then again, she might be full of shit... but hey, photos don't lie....

Proof..

... the following photo is offered without commentary... it was December 25th, 1976... I was four years, two months, and eleven days old... and Santa had just brought me an axe for Christmas...

.. and you people wonder why I'm warped.... good God...

... clicken zee heer to embiggen...

Parrots....

... you know, I get up and read the news... cruise a few blogs... let the cobwebs in my mind dissolve away in a morning marinating of coffee... but sometimes I hear a story or read an article that just messes me up for the whole day... sometimes it's a quote... sometimes a photo or a tale... but whatever it is, it gets lodged in my brain and won't go away...

... this morning, courtesy of WitNit, I have this image of parrots being karate-chopped and disappearing into a poof of feathers... hundreds of parrots swirling around antique cars as men and women in white gees flail mightily... occasionally disintegrating a swooping bird with a single blow...

... and having an image like that stuck in your mind is just not good... not good at all...

Update: oops... I spelt "Gi" wrong... a tip of the hat to the beauteous Boudicca for pointing it out.. terribly sorry, ma'am... terribly sorry...

Hiding....

... well, I'm up early again... and since I bailed on the Super Bowl and watched a DVD instead, I suppose it is time for a movie review....

... see, last night I was forced to watch the latest De Niro flick "Hide and Seek"...

... initial thoughts?... well, kids with bulging eyes freak me out.. people who won't answer you when you ask them a question and just stand there bulging their eyes at 2:06am freak me out... as do ghosts that write freaky stuff on the walls at 2:06am... so, it is safe to say that overall, the movie freaked me out...

... ok, sure... I suppose it was "drama" as opposed to "horror".. but I still got the heebie jeebies...

... and anyone who would kill Elisabeth Shue off in a film needs to be murdered... goodness... remember when she straddled Nicolas Cage in "Leaving Las Vegas"?... she needs to be in lots more movies.... Elisabeth is a honeybaby...

... anyway, after seeing the ending, I wasn't so scared anymore... well, not of ghosts anyway... but Charlie was one messed up dude...

... and I really liked the way the film ended.. I really did... just goes to prove that two or three motivated hollow points from a .357 magnum can really solve problems.... I love it when Hollywood drives home points like that...

Science....

... driving North on I-75 yesterday during a spitting snow, I was a captive audience... and it wasn't pretty either... words zinged by me at an alarming rate and I could barely keep up... as I dodged traffic and passed big-rigs, quarks and gluons and other strange words were lobbed in my direction... bosons were bandied and I nodded knowingly.. Bloody Hell...

... dazed, I was... and yes, I said bosons not bosoms... The Theory of Everything, people...

... look, I'm a simple guy... discussing how time slows down as an object approaches the Speed of Light is beyond my comprehension.. it just isn't my bag... E=mc2 means very, very little to me... now steaks or Scotch or nipples?... well, you've certainly got my attention... but hey, that never happens around me... those subjects never see the light of day around here... instead, well, I get theoretical particles.... bosons, for goodness sake...

.. the Theory of Everything, indeed... well, I call bullshit on the bosons... steak and Scotch and nipples ARE the theory of everything....

Duality....

... well, the deed is done... I'm just back from placing an order at Sears.... come February 9th, I will be the unhappy owner of one of these puppies...

... I'd ask one of your gentle readers to "just shoot me now", but I'm afraid you actually would give it a shot... I know you people too well...

... and hey, that in itself is part of the joy that is SWG, right?... half of you want to shoot me... and the other half want me to oil you up and spank your little bottoms purple... you people really amaze me.... perverts...

... and I mean that as a compliment...

Update...

.. as a matter of fact, every one of you people should be ashamed of yourselves... all of you... every damn one of you.... goodness, I sure am... look around.. does your Momma know what you're doing?...

... hey, don't get me wrong.. of course I don't want you to STOP.. actually, I love it... some of you inspire me so much I damn near bust... but still, y'all should be ashamed of yourselves... I'm just sayin'....

... so happy Saturday morning, rubberneckers... you people need spanked... hard...

Breaking records...

... you know... people really, really are amazing critters... and not just because of all those faculties that Shakespeare and other poets have rambled on about... all that "how like an angel" stuff...

... no... people are amazing critters because they do stuff like this and then get their faces slathered all of the internet... Jimbo, my man... good God... I do believe that is the strangest shit I have ever seen.... you should be ashamed of yourself...

Evolving...

... you know, I am continually appalled impressed by the way bloggers run with ideas.... like this, for instance.... Blackfive announces that he's gonna get interviewed for something-or-other on CNN.... T1G says that since he's met Blackfive before and knows that the boy loves him some "product" in his hair, he'd better enlist the help of those Queer Eye guys... pretty nifty idea, I'd say... Blackfive is quite proud of his hair and is probably always in the market for new gels and crap to rub up there....

... so, yeah... everything is going just swimmingly until this guy named Bloodspite joins into the fun and games... yep.. he takes T1G's original idea and spruces it up a bit... birthing the Mother of All Bad Photoshops ...

... I know I say this a lot.. but I'm going to say it again.. even if by overuse, the original warm and fuzziness of the phrase is lost.... I'm sorry, but this is just wrong....

Mood Music...

.... everyone's favorite Elisson has a list of songs he's listening to tonight... certainly a mixed bag of hits... and I must admit, I was pleasantly surprised to see that a Waits tune was present... rock on, Elisson, rock on... but he ended the post by asking about what "we" are listening to... and since today has been such an unmitigated disaster, I figured I'd share what's on repeat here in the blogroom...

... see, I tend to put songs on a continuous loop until I drive myself insane... the same song over and over for hours.... it's pretty cool actually...

.. anyway, as I am sure each of you is just itching with anticipation, here it is....

... so there you go... a little hunk of Ray Charles is the music that's calming the savage tonight here at SWG....

Whine...

... well, today sucked... all of you workin' people who swing by here and wag your fingers at my lifestyle should be content... all of that negative karma you've been sending my way finally paid off... I hope you retards are happy now.... I had a shitty day finally....

... overcast sky... depressing night last night... my cell phone died in the middle of an important conversation and the charger was seventy miles away... traffic was grinding... no appetite as I drove by a million restaurants..... and even a damned bluebird that had finally given up on life due to some bluebird depression committed suicide by flying head-on into my windshield as I was sitting at a traffic light... I wasn't even moving!... talk about depressing... when beasts of the field start offing themselves because they just can't take it any more, things are pretty bad.... little bastard slid down the windscreen and lay flopping in between my wiper blades... I had to get out of the car and heave his tiny carcass in between two SUVs that were in front of me...

.. alas, the only saving grace of today was the joy that I experienced when I followed the advice of my spiritual advisor, Skippy.. all the way up to Knoxville and back I screamed Warren Zevon songs at random people who were stuck in traffic with me... let me tell you, people, it works... it really, really does... everyone should own a copy of Zevon's Genius album... while it didn't fully cure what ails me, it sure helped to ease a few of the symptoms....

Another Waits scene....

... sitting here attempting to relax, I thought about how Tom Waits might describe a scene from a Robert Service poem.... and yeah, I know it sucks... but it was fun to imagine... so bite me... here goes....

.. he smelled of gin when he came in and sat himself at the bar...the man in the back and One-Eyed Jack were playing a hand of cards.. the door opened again and a guy with a spin strolled in and looked for The Hustler... with his back to the door and his eyes on the floor, his hands were in his pockets... he'd ordered a highball with notes from a roll and the bartender had taken his cash... "Mister", said he, with a nudge to his knee, "Are you the Mr. McCrash?"

... heh heh... *bang*...

... see?... everyone dies in the end, people... everyone.... but some of us just see it coming from farther away....

The Amazing Elisson...

... this is scary... truly scary... funny, sure... but still scary... who knew such an undiscovered genius lay hidden in the burbs of Atlanta?... Elisson, my man... I'm impressed... you are the man.... now, of course, you must die....

Obsessive....

.. you know... there are times when I focus on something new and just can't be drawn away.... it stays in my mind and latches to my soul... it bores into me... it becomes ingrained in my waking thoughts and slumbering dreams... be it a book, music, or a person... I just immerse myself in it until I am spent... wasted... until I know everything, have done everything, and there is no rock left unturned...

.. Tom Waits, Robert Service, Ogden Nash.... I am addicted... totally... and lately I have found myself submerged in the music of John Prine.... sure, his voice is quirky.. but his lyrics are incredible... but as for all addictions, there comes a breaking point... a point where you tear yourself away and think... "whoa.. enough is enough.."... that happened to me last night... and here, dear rubberneckers, is the straw that broke the camel's back.... I give you a John Prine chorus...

"Lets talk dirty in Hawaiian"

Let's talk dirty in Hawaiian
Whisper in my ear
Kicka poo ka maka wa wah wahini
Are the words I long to hear
Lay your coconut on my tiki
What the hecka mooka mooka, dear
Let's talk dirty in Hawaiian
Say the words I long to hear

... see what I mean?... those lines broke my addiction.... that song was just too much for me.... and hey, my Hawaiian is pretty rusty, but I think he's talking about backsides....

... still, you have to admit... the man was a genius....

Dialogue again....

Do you want to come with me? I'm leaving.
I'm not sure. Where are you going? Is it far?
Yes, quite far, but easy to get to. It's one of my favorite places.
Is it pretty there?
Well, the Sun shines everyday and the streams are full of fish.
I'd rather have a daiquiri. Do they have daiquiris there? I'd rather go to a place that has daiquiris.
No, but I can buy the stuff to make one.
So you can have your mountains and I can have a daiquiri?
If you wish, yes.
Will I like it there?
Well, I'll be there with you.
So then it'll suck, right? Even with daiquiris.

Singing....

... you know, I've been in a most excellent mood this afternoon... it really is quite remarkable... and I've found myself singing this song out of pure joy....

... shamelessly stolen from the Evil White Guy (no relation)...

Guys and Dolls...

... yesterday, one of the channels was playing the 1955 version of "Guys and Dolls"... AMC, I think... the one with Brando and Sinatra... and I tried watching it for a while but it just wasn't clicking with me.... every time Brando tried to woo Jean Simmons, my mind wandered.... I couldn't stop thinking about what a freak Brando was in "The Last Tango in Paris"...

... yeah, I sat there on the couch thinking.. "Jean, my dear.. you sweet, innocent, darling little Salvation Army babe... busily saving souls and smiling so meekly... Brando is gonna FUCK you UP when y'all finally get in the sack.."....

... and yeah, the Wife smacked me in the back of the head when I let it slip out accidentally....

... anyway, that's not really the point of this post... see, as I was gellin' like Magellan on the couch, the only character that really touched my bitter, twisted heart was Nicely Nicely Johnson.... the overweight balding guy who sang "Sit Down, You're Rockin' the Boat"... his singing moved me... it really, really did... Nicely is my soul brother... Stubby Kaye, ladies and gentlemen...

... alas, though... he kicked the bucket back in 1997.... lung cancer... a bad deal all around... but last night, I'd sure have loved to have been able to buy him a beer.... requiescat in pace, Stubby.... you spoke to me last night...