Deborah... Scorsese. Scorsese... Deborah.

There were boobs.  Lots of boobs.  Butts... drugs... lots and lots of drugs... offensive language... violence... Extreme inappropriate behavior.  On the big screen.  And she brought her 70 year old MOM.

How unintelligent must one be to bring their elderly mother to a Scorsese film??? And then be surprised when you see shit like that.  Sigh... moan in protest.. actually COVER YOUR EYES????  Really????

See.. this is when I wish I had more of... my drunk and crazy dad in me.  I wish I would have said something to her.  Maybe I shouldn't have.  But I wanted to.  What I wanted to say was... Uh... I think you chose the wrong movie, my friend. 

I enjoyed the movie but I have to say....let's call her Deborah.... that Deborah somewhat ruined my R-rated movie going experience.  As an adult, creeping towards 40 years of age.. I think I should be able to freely go into an R-rated movie with an open mind.. free and willing to accept any "dirty words" or that God awful NUDITY....  Nudity that destroys lives and childhoods.  Naked boobs.  Yep.. Can't think of anything worse for my child to be exposed to.

Let's face it... Deborah was fine with the boobs and the blow.  She was just thrown into instant shame because her mother was next to her.  She gasped and made comments and shook her head.  Why oh WHY Deborah.. would you take your 70 year old mother into an R-rated, Martin Scorsese movie without looking into it first????  I mean... not even a little bit?  All you had to do was read one review.

So because of your awful decision-making skills.. you over-peppered my cinematic experience with your puritanism.  Thanks a lot.  I paid $8.50 to mentally fight off the Puritan to my right.. for 3 hours.

It gets better.

During most scenes... especially the extra graphic ones... she talked to her mother.  I would say about 20 different times, she leaned over and said things to her mother and got a response..making it a CONVERSATION.... in a MOVIE THEATER.  That's like bringing a BABY into a BAR.  Freakin' movie theater etiquette 101.  Shut the fuck up once that movie starts.  If you must say something... you whisper it.. and you make it quick.  You do NOT say everything that comes to your mind.  [she was directly beside me by the way]  You also do not talk during the scenes that make you uncomfortable because you're watching cocaine being snorted off boobs in front of the woman that birthed you.  YOUR BAD DECISION.  You deal with the consequences and let the other adults around you enjoy themselves. 

And here's the best part.

After talking the whole freakin' movie.... about 2 hours in.. I open my popcorn bag back up for a snacky-poo.  This chic has the AUDACITY to look over at me... and stay there for a good 3 seconds before I looked over at her.  She had this stupid, fake grin on her face... I remained straight-faced and looked back to the screen.  You SERIOUSLY have got to be kidding me.  You're going to talk through the WHOLE movie....and ew and aww and make stupid comments but... that's perfectly okay....  but I open a paper bag of popcorn and fuckin forget it!  How rude!!!!!!!!!!!

I will admit.... since I had about 2 hours of slight anger and irritation under my belt... I did rummage through the bag longer than I needed to.  I was being an asshole, no doubt.  But really.. it was nothing compared to the shit she pulled for 3 straight hours.

Thank you Deborah.  You suck.

The End of the Line

6 months!!  Jesus.  To the DAY too.  That shit wasn't planned, either.

So I'm driving down the road about an hour ago.... jamming to "The End of the Line" by Metallica.  LOUD.  I look down and... my battery light is on.  I'm like.. what the??   I stalled!!  I don't recall ever stalling. [in that car]  So I turn everything off... and start the car again.. it starts.  It's been fine since.  Funny thing is... I'm buying a new car in 2 days.  Okay Universe.... I got it...  my ride has reached "The End of the Line".  Haha... 

Um...   is that really all I have after 6 months?  I haven't written in my journal either.  I think I've reached a ... what would be the opposite of a boiling point. ??  Or.. maybe it is actually a boiling point.  I don't know what it is.. all I know is that I have apparently built some kind of wall in the brain.. I don't really want to talk to anyone about anything real interesting.  Ha!  That sounds completely ridiculous.. and I may have just made that up.

I guess you can say I'm going thru a rough patch in life.. and this is what happens when you hit a bump in the road....  your car breaks down... and you're walking to work for a while. 

I see it tho.  The light.  The light at the end of the _______ tunnel.  Shit.  What's that word??   Don't you hate that ... when you know the word... that word... that word you Must use.. or else you feel incomplete.  And a bit empty.  Who can help me out here?  You know where I'm going with this.. It's like....  a metaphorical tunnel.  Or... figurative tunnel.   The... something tunnel.    And how about when the word you're looking for is "on the tip of your tongue"... then BAM!!  It's gone.  You just got a microscopic glance of your word... but nope... not yet.  "They" make you wait a little longer.  Yeah, that just happened.  See, I bet if I read more books this wouldn't happen.  My brain is not nearly stimulated enough.

The bottom line is..  I see the light.  It's coming.  And.. the light on the purple porch will be coming back on soon.  So..sorry trick-or-treaters.  Maybe next year.   

Got it!  Thanks to the hetero life-mate.  PROVERBIAL!    ....I can see the light at the end of the proverbial tunnel.  And now that it's here.. I'm not sure I like it.  Just goes to show.. we want what we can't have.  And.. when we have it.. we're like..  Meh. 

Popcorn Allergies

2010

It's going to be rough sitting in this office chair all day today.  At 3:15 AM I woke up...  initially because of my allergies.  I don't usually wake up before the alarm.  I didn't really have to pee, but I peed anyway.  Blew my nose.  Took a drink of water.  Went back to bed.  And... that thing happened.  That HORRIBLE thing.  Thoughts upon thoughts RACE thru your head at dizzying speeds.  No matter how hard you try to relax... and doze off again..  It just doesn't work.  You attempt a few different positions.. hoping that one of them will whisk you off to that cottony resting place you call sleep.  .....You wait.  And wait.   ..Nope.  Not this time.

If I had insomnia issues most of the time...  No way I could handle it.  I would sadly become a drug addict.  I consider myself EXTREMELY LUCKY because 99% of the time I sleep like a Madman.  Fall asleep instantly...  never waking once until the alarm blares.  The more I talk to people, the more rare I realize this is.  So yeah, I'm really lucky, and I can handle the occasional insomnia.  So I'm not "complaining".. just "venting".        ...Is there a difference??

So here we are.  Unrested.  Sitting.... Sitting.  Congested.  Sneezing.  Allergies are ...  very annoying.  I know that somewhere.. right now.. someone is suffering from Much Much larger issues than myself.  I need to Shut It.

For whatever reason, I've been opposed to trying allergy medicine.  I didn't want to believe the woman [that stuck me like 30 times in the arm] when she said "They're going to get worse".  I thought.... How dare you take that negative tone with me.  Haha.  Well..... she was right.   They're kind of off-the-charts now.  But.. I'll be okay if I avoid:

wheat
cats
trees
pollen
grass
pizza
pasta
bread
beer
dogs
driving with my window down when it's nice out - which i LOVE
mold
dust
and sauce.

Or.. I can just go buy some medicine and not worry about it.

So......  I put a non-microwavable plate in the microwave yesterday.  A part of me didn't believe that it was truly non-microwavable.  Well...  I cooked a bag of [97% fat free] popcorn on it.  I heard some strange noises.... for some reason that part of my brain was shut down... normally those sounds would have sent up a red flag immediately.  I just let it go..... let it go..... let it go....  like 2 and a half minutes later.. I finally open the microwave.  It's total chaos.  The plate...... not only is it non-microwavable... it is.. brown... burned.... the red floral design had actually jumped Off the plate... and... there was an Actual HOLE in the middle of the plate.   WOW!!!  A science experiment indeed!  My nose started to burn as soon as I opened the microwave.  NOT GOOD.  I ventilated the place immediately.  Lesson learned.

You see... when it comes to microwaving popcorn... I just don't know what to do!  I have tried placing the bag on the actual glass rotater... broke it.... on a ceramic plate.... broke it.... on a paper plate.... burned it to shit.  And now a plastic plate.  Catastrophic outcome.  I guess I'm going to have to splurge on those plates specifically designed for the microwave.    .. I walked by them the other day too.  "Who needs those?"  

Horizontal Humans

Haha.  I almost went to "blooger" instead of blogger.  Hahaha.  Blooger.  Say it.  Go ahead.

Blooger. 

So I just wanted to give a shout-out [.......huh?......] to guardrails.  Guard Rails.  How ever you spell it.  I remember learning about compound words in school.  That was a long time ago. 

So, driving along...  I notice many dents, dings are bruises on guard rails.  [some call them guide rails.  when i was a kid some kid i knew called them 'garden rails'.  HAHA]  So just think how many times guardrails saved lives.  Or... saved someone from a major injury or "dismemberment".  Don't you just love that word?  Is it just me or do you immediately envision an arm being ripped off? 

THANK YOU, Mr. [& Mrs] Guardrail.  Thank you for saving lives.. and arms.  Not many thank you... but I will do it for them.  Thank you on behalf of all the humans that have bumped into you.  Because of you...  they were allowed more time on this globe.... so they can continue drinking and/or speeding and driving and blast into more of your friends and family.  HA!!!!!

YEAH.  I'm in THAT kind of mood today.  Mr. & Mrs. Guardrail, and family.  Little guardrail kids... with blue ball caps on backwards... running around.. playing ...  whiffle ball.    ...Is it "whiffle"?  Wiffle ball bat....  The Beastie Boys mentioned it once.....   but how's it spelled, by golly?    woofle.  AnyHOO...............

Yes, there is a secret, underground society of Guardrail families.  A community.  But.......

....................................BUT................................................

The question IS....... WHAT is guarding the guard rails from harm, when THEY are driving haphazardly down THEIR roads?????

Humans!?  HAHAHAHAHA.......  Horizontal Humans..... linked together... to protect [and serve] the Guardrail Community.  ..I can see that as a newspaper headline.

Oh man.   I think I need to stop.  I think JT might pee her pants.  It's her fault I'm like this.  She has a funk-a-delic brain... and it has definitely been passed on to me. 

Human Guardrails.    I had no idea this blog was going to reach this level when I started. 

..back to normalcy.  [what a boring place]

I just noticed all the dings in the guardrails I see and I feel thankful.  I'm trying to be thankful... well.. more thankful in my life.  I've always felt thankful.  I'm just trying to greatly amplify it.  Something I've been reading/listening to lately has given me a boost in self-awareness.... and how much power we hold within ourselves to feel absolutely fantastic... most of... if not All of the time.  We really can... no matter what is happening.  It just requires a lot of focus and practice.  I never want to feel down in the dumps again.  Ever. It's such a shitty feeling.   I want to be happy and feel joyful.. and be silly.  All the time.  And yeah, thankful. 

So the guardrails got thanked today.  Haha.  Take a look around.. as you're driving.  Look at how many dings you come across on those things.  How many peeps have crashed into them.... maybe they HAVE thanked them.. after they walked away from the accident.  I know I would.  When I was in a potentially bad car accident in 1998....  I thanked the old school, steel bumpers on my dad's El Camino, for saving us.  A garbage truck had hit us head on... After we were rear-ended by a car.  The truck smashed that bumper down to the ground.. into a big silver "V".  If it wasn't for that strong piece of metal....  who knows what could have happened to us. 

That is all for now.  Good day!

Hugeness

big.  all things big.  friggin huge.  or.. as some would say..  "Yooj".  i don't know what this obsession is with all things huge.  why does it appear to make humans feel better.. more important.. in control..?  huge vehicles.  huge houses.  huge diamond rings.  huge televisions.  big big big.  bigger is better..  why?  why is bigger better?  there can be (and actually is) someone out there with a small car, a small house and a small tv that is pretty fucking secure with themselves.  they can be happy, secure, smart and actually have their shit together.. all with nothing but tiny things surrounding them.  i guess it's an overcompensating thing?  they actually do not feel very good about themselves... so they buy really large items.. and surround themselves with those things.. .they buy the biggest possible truck on the lot.. so they are higher up than everyone else.  louder.  more metal.  thicker tires.  louder horn.  home theaters that mimic the movie theater.  big speakers.. large.. big bang boom.  i'll knock your socks off with this massive *insert item here*   the men want large penises.  women want large wallets.  the people on the top.. the CEO types... they want MORE..  even larger bank accounts.  larger yachts.  more more more more.  bigger = better.  right?   

i know there are some peeps that are quite content and happy with whatever they have in life.. yet they still like big things.  so to them i ask.. why?  does it all come down to status?  and proving to others that you are worthy and significant because you are able to uphold a lifestyle consisting of very LARGE things?    haha....

yeah.  i just don't get it.   you've seen the women with these enormous sunglasses and handbags.  why does it always have to be a popularity contest?  why must we constantly compare ourselves to everyone else?  why do we always have something to prove?  Hey... look at this massive fucking truck i have... let me ...  rev the engine for you.. and get up on your ass like a thirsty mosquito. ..Especially at night... when I have my Super Duper triple ply quadruple freaky styley double decker extra bright HD PCP LED super high intensity headlights on.

   

 

for real.

Reality Bites

Hey, look at that.  Exactly 1 month later.  I don't plan these things.  And as a matter of fact, I am finding out the more you plan, the more it falls through. 

I was going to blog about something the other day..  and now I don't remember what it was... 

There are constant thoughts running thru my brain vein... but yet.. Nothing is really spilling out at the moment.  You know what would probably help..  A smart phone.  That way.. I would have constant, easy access to this here page.. and I could jot down some things the moment I think of them.  That might happen in a month or so. 

So...  hold your horses, Michael.

; )    .....I miss you buddy.  You're my #1 fan!  HAHA.  You should come visit me.  I know, I know.  It's cold & clowdy here.  Wait... did I just spell cloudy wrong??  HAHA.. Yes I did.  Cloud has no "w" in it, k.rae. 

We can go to George's for breakfast.  Good local joint for breakfast...  Cripsy-ass bacon.  Then drive out to Raccoon State Park.. and take a hike / or walk / since we're chubby bastards.  We can pretend it's 1996.. and they drained the lake...  and I can take a photo shoot of you .. while you show off your pretzel tattoo while laying on the ground.  But you have to shave your head first and.. lose about 40 pounds.  HA!  Oh.. the good old days...  when we were YOUNG & SLENDER.   .....  *sigh*  If only it was as easy to grab that back than it is to remember it. 

I miss the I.O. too.  That really was my favorite job.  It was SO FUN.  I would do anything to go back to that time...  re-live a weekend at the I.O. with you and Aub and Linda and Jenn and Mark and Paul and Dan and Sloan and Todd and Art and Nick and Dennis and Joyce and Regina and Sean and TJ and ... oh man...  NOT Ralph.  That dude was a douche pocket.  I wonder what LAMAR is doing now!  Do you remember his last name???  I should look him up on FB.    We tried to have an I.O. reunion..  well.. we did have one... it was mini... but it was a reunion.  It was me, Aub, Todd, Sloan and Heidi.  I think Mark and Paul showed up too.. no.  No that was a different night. 

Haha.. do you remember when it was busy as fuck and I slipped on a chicken finger as I was holding one of those HUGE trays, full of porcelain?  Then I started bleeding and I panicked.  [I aint got TIME to bleed!]  Yeah, that was fun.  I was so freaking stressed out.  MAN we used to get busy.  Frank tried to talk me out of filling out a report. Haha.  He was a strange, little man. 

Do you remember WAYNE...  the manager that came in to shut us down?  He had like... 9 kids.  like...  9 months apart. 

But seriously, brother, I love you and I miss you.  A LOT.  You really should come up for the weekend... maybe in May... when it's warmer...  we'll hang out.. go do some hiking..  maybe try to see a band or two in the city...  sip [a.k.a. 'guzzle'] some beers.. maybe catch a laser show.. you know... that's all we need...  you, me, and five bucks.

HAHA... remember when you had this on your machine:  At the beep, please leave your name, number, and a brief justification for the ontological necessity of modern man's existential dilemma, and we'll get back to you.

Reminiscing is both a blessing and a curse.

A Ghost Story

Holy Smokes it's been 3 months.  That's not really that big of a break.  4 years would be a big break.  So today I want to talk about GHOSTS! 

I am aware that humans are made up of energy that can not be created nor destroyed. [side note A: I never get to use the term "nor"..  not sure if it's even the proper placement, but I like it.  side note B:  If energy wasn't created.....  how did it become what it is?  i'm not comfortable with the notion of "it just always has been and always will be".  that's a weak-ass explanation if you ask me]  So..  all a "ghost" is is energy.  Right?  We have this energy encapsulated in our skin and bone shells... then.. when our heart stops.. the energy needs to go somewhere right?  So that's the question.  WHERE does it go?  It's not associated with the Brain anymore.... so it can't DECIDE to go somewhere... it just.... goes.   This then brings us to the debate of THE SOUL.  Is there a soul?  If so, what IS it?  What IS the Soul?????  Who can explain that to me?  Like... precisely?  And in a way I can understand.. and GET IT?    .... I'm gonna go with NO ONE. 

Gee, that's comforting.

How would EYE describe "the soul"?   Glad you asked.       ....shit.  I'm having a hard time.  How can my brain come up with an answer to that?  Haha...  my brain - which is all physical - does not have the capability to explain something so non-physical as The Soul.  Or... does it??  Haha... that's the thing!  who knows!?!  So many things are uncertain.  If I had to write SOMETHING......   on a test where the question was "What is the soul?" I would write:

An aura of deep feeling and emotion.. A vast sea of energy-type goo (ghost goo...lol) that no humanly being can explain.     HA!!!  YEah...... nice try.

So before I broke down on the This-Story-Just-Derailed-Like-A-Son-Of-A-Bitch path I was on...  I was talking about ghosts.  Well.. that's where I was headed anyway.  Just the word "ghost" throws people off.  It sounds so fairytale.. but it's just energy.  And we all know energy is real.  It's all about the story-teller and if you can verify the validity of his statements.  Absolutely people make things up.  I think it may be in our nature to do so.  But.. some do not.  It's very easy to be like "Oh, she's crazy."  Or....  "He was high when he saw that demon."  Yes... I'm positive this is the case.. some of the time.  But what about the other times?  Some of it is real.  And..  I have experienced it myself.

I am one of those people that want to get to the bottom of things.  I don't want fluff... I don't want bullshit...  I do like a great, colorful story, but when it comes to ghosts...  I don't want imagination.  I want REAL.  I don't want you to move the Ouija Board trinket thingy around....I want to see if it actually moves itself.  [STILL haven't figured that one out yet.  I can never trust anyone enough to believe them]  It's funny tho... when I actually do hear a real story... I wanna run the other way.  Fear.  It's so much easier to be like.. yeah... that stuff's not real.  OH.. it's real alright.  The trick is....  you have to keep yourself distanced from the negative energy....  others may call this "evil spirits".  A small chunk of me believes that there is the possibility of a "door" opening.  ..a possibility of "letting something in".  Something you DO NOT want in.  I bet that part of me is much larger.... I'm just afraid to admit it.    

Just found out my grandmother's house - where I lived for 4 years - was built in 1912.  I never knew that!  Wow!  

Word is...a 68 year old man that lived there before her died of a heart attack in the living room.  AND... 3 years before that  his daughter ended her own life in her bedroom.  Pill overdose.  In my time there, I heard a lot of stories from the family.  The only thing I experienced there was a few knocks on the wall, creepy vibes and this. . .

I was 9.  I was in my messy room (the room next to Susan's) playing with a dental mask I got from my grandmother's friend.  I was looking in the mirror of my vanity.. talking to myself with the mask on.  So... all of a sudden I hear this crazy sound behind me.... I look and my chalk board (small) was on the floor and it was violently shaking//hopping around.  As if.. there was a hand under it... flipping all around all fast.  The sound was happening during the shaking.  Of course this scared the bejesus out of me... and I ran out of there as fast as I could.. and down the stairs. I don't think I went upstairs for 2 days.  I wish they had recorded my account of events...  it would have been awesome to read it today. 

One other time... I was almost asleep.... you know that in between stage where you're not quite asleep yet.. but not fully awake...  well... someone or someTHING whispered in my ear.  I do not remember what it said.....  but I'm sure I have it in a journal somewhere...  I know it wasn't anything creepy like... Drink the Blood of Lambs..   it was just some random short sentence.  I bet if I meditated long enough, I could remember.

At other places:

5 years later we lived in a duplex in Milwaukee..   so much stuff happened there.  Footsteps upstairs when no one was home... furniture moving around.... lights... Constantly the lights!  I was always shutting them off.. and they'd be on when you went in the room.  My mom's cigarettes were moved one time....  to a place she never would have put them.  But... two things stand out in that place.  3 things actually.  One of them I can explain. 

1) I had this huge walk-in closet... I would go in there and shit would constantly fall off the shelf and hit me in the head.  Whatever... I was a messy teenager..  this could have happened regardless.

2) One time I was in bed.. room completely dark... and I became completely overwhelmed by FEAR.  Scared Shitless is what I would call it.  I was literally frozen by fear... could not move.. I was laying there.. and I felt an enormous presence right above my body.  Like....  if a person was RIGHT ON TOP OF ME... hovering over me.  That's Exactly what it felt like.  Man.... that was crazy.  I was so scared.  Couldn't move or scream tho.

3)  Then..  this one is really unbelievable.  Literally.  Like... I wouldn't believe it if I wasn't telling it.  I woke up one morning with tiny scratches all over the side of my body.. from my arm pit to my hip.  Like...  a Ton of scratches.  Now that's just fucked up.  Again... I can't believe no one recorded this event!  As in... wrote it down... .took a picture of my side!    ....Perhaps I dreamed  it all. 

And again.. I was 9 and 14 when these things occurred.  There were no alcohol or drugs involved. 

The only other creepy thing that I can recall after age 14 is when I moved back into my dad's house at age 15.  That house was built in 1952.  I lived in a room in the basement.. and my little brother (3 at the time) would walk by my closet (which had no doors) and point and say "Hey, there's Pommy and Harry".  YES.. Hahaha...   Pommy and Harry.  He either had some strange-named imaginary friends or... there were fucking GHOSTS living in my closet named...  Yeah.   You got it.   ..Thanks little brother!