It Just Never Stops

April 24, 2009 at 9:17 am (Crazy Shit, Friends, General)

Life, that is. I’ve been so busy this week with everything. I have had downtime but that hasn’t included blogging or reading blogs or even answering e-mails. It just includes working, spending time with Nate, mowing grass, weedeating, cleaning house, and playing with the dog. I haven’t even seen my boyfriend that much, except at work, where we both tend to be too much. He worked half a day or so on his day off and I worked somewhat on my day off so it really isn’t much of a day off when you still go into work.

On top of that, yesterday, after getting into my trunk no less than three times, I managed to break my key off on turn # 4. This is bad, as my trunk key is also the key for the rest of the car. No one, except for maybe my dad, has another key to my car. My dad lives over an hour away.

I called the local dealership and found that they are so stringent about key codes that unless I bought the car from them, I didn’t, or had work done on the car there, I DID, then they couldn’t make me a key. Seems some car thieves/chopshoppers, had stolen a bunch of key codes and done some very bad things and now the FBI is very, very anal about keys.

To make matters worse, I had no ID, no money, no nothing, since it was all locked inside my car. I couldn’t get a hold of T-Bird and I didn’t really feel like bothering ETW or The Blonde Goddess to give me a ride over to the dealership. Instead, it being a beautiful day and me having a little time before I had to pick up Nate, or rather, just enough time to schlep to the dealership, get the key and schlep back before having to pick up Nate, I walked.

Its 3 1/2 miles. Luckily, I’m used to walking a lot and T-Bird was able to come and pick me up. She called me when I was at the foot of the bridge going over the river and said she would be over and just to wait at the dealership since her one working vehicle was in use. The guy was very nice and just asked that I bring my ID back because they have to keep my info on file for SEVEN YEARS. How crazy is that???

Good news is, he didn’t charge me for the key and my broken off key still works with the other broken off piece in the trunk so I can still open my trunk.

And that is how I spent part of my afternoon yesterday!

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And So It Goes

March 11, 2009 at 12:19 am (Cats, Friends, Memories, Nate, Work)

After the death of his wife Betty, Hoss wrote:  “Many times in the past when some of you were having a particularly bad time, Old Hoss has offered “counsel,” which consisted largely of this: When you can’t do something about something, let it go. Say to yourself, “So it goes,” and get on with your life. So, so it goes. Thank you, all.”

Yes, Hoss, so it goes. There isn’t a damn thing I can do about you moving on up to Big Ernie and I hope you at least got to say hi before you reincarnated as a dung beetle. I will always be kind to dung beetles.

And, as it goes, I also wanted to post a picture of a rabbit, even though it isn’t the first of the month.

big-bunnyHoo boy, Hoss would have loved this BIG OLE BUNNY!

I’m also posting a picture of a frog:

spring-peeperBut not just any frog, but a Spring Peeper. Someone had claimed to hear one the other day when it was 16* and I though they were shitting me, but, on the way home Sunday, before finding out about Hoss, I too heard the Spring Peepers. However, it was 70*, not 16*. I have been looking forward to Spring a great deal and was so pleased to hear their peeping and croaking. They say that in Alzheimer’s patients, the last part of the brain to die is the part that recognizes music and the emotions they are attached to.

Hoss may have passed on March 7th, but I know each year when I hear the Spring Peepers and their music, I will know this is the day he moved on to Big Ernie.

And so it goes.


Nate has sinusitis. I took him to the doctor yesterday, my day off, and they gave him ginormous horse pills for his nose. He is also coughing and feverish.

Jirachi went to the vet yesterday afternoon, my day off, and his ass is healing very well. They clipped some more hair off so it doesn’t get stuck in the antibiotic ointment. The vet says we have to wait until his balls and scrotum heal so he can get them cut out. Thinking about that statement makes my eyeballs wrinkle.

Tango escaped from the house, right after Macy did. When I wasn’t at some kind of doctor’s office I was walking the neighborhood, on my day off, trying to find Tango, as I knew Macy was on a short hunger strike, for whatever reason, under my house.

This morning I filled out an online missing pet form with our local humane society. It read something like: Lost in —- block —– Ave., Small WV Town, black cat, green/yellow eyes, answers to Tango. Loves feet, please call ###-####.

He does love feet, loves to rub on them, then loves to chew and bite on them.

I pressed “send,” walked outside onto the porch, hollered his name, heard his little Tango “barrupp” and there he was. He couldn’t decide whether to eat breakfast or love on my feet. I went back to the computer and penned a note to the Humane Society.

“Hi, this is Nanner. I just sent a missing pet form regarding a black cat named Tango in Small WV Town. He obviously knew this because he came home. Thanks anyway. ”


I have felt like a new woman since the sun has been out and we have changed the clocks. I feel – rejuvenated.


I’m not sure if I remember telling anyone but I stepped down from my lead position at the restaurant so I could work more bar shifts and evening shifts. This is a good exchange. However, I was supposed to work just two bar shifts a week and that lasted about two weeks, and now its three or four. Which is, hey, fine with me!

However, I went to buy some new work pants, which I never do unless I have to because I hate shopping. However, a lady who had come into the restaurant had a really cool pair of pants on and was kind enough to tell me where they were on sale at the local mall. Anamoly No. 1: So, even without needing them, I went to get a new pair of those pants.

Since I hate shopping, I just generally guess at what size I need and then deal with it.  I haven’t tried on clothes since Christmas of 2007 when I bought my last pair of jeans. Anamoly No. 2:  I actually tried the pants on before buying them. Naturally, I got the size I thought I wore and when I could put both hands down the front of them thought… hmmmm… maybe I need a smaller size.

Yes, I had the joy of going shopping and finding I had dropped a pants size. I think this is due to the extra bar shifts and I will admit, I have been trying to eat healthier. I took one of those online test thingies about nutrition and found… well, I don’t eat so healthy. I love fruit and veggies but they are seriously lacking in my diet. I eat may too much red meat, which is likely to continue, and not enough fish or chicken.

I’ve just been making some small changes and being more conscious about what I’m eating. But make no mistake, I still eat what I want. For instance, I decided to eat at Wendy’s this evening because Nate had already eaten with his dad and in line with my new nutrition outlook, I ordered the side salad (which isn’t THAT healthy since it has iceberg lettuce versus the darker, more healthy lettuce/spinach) with a side of mandarin oranges, plus a baked potato with butter and sour cream and one of their strawberry shakes.

So, I got my starch and dairy, my fruits and veggies, and ice cream, which you all should know IS a food group. I had 1/2 a steak burger at the restaurant so I’d had enough meat for the day.

I made a crap-ton of money today, even I was shocked. Now I can buy more fruits and vegetables.

I’m so happy it is Springtime!

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Big Ernie Gets All The Good Ones

March 8, 2009 at 5:32 pm (Friends)

Our Old Horsetail Snake has moved on up with Big Ernie. Godspeed, Hoss. We’ll miss you.

Just can’t say anything else right now.

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February 20, 2009 at 12:55 am (Alice in Chains, Friends, Memories, Music, My Travels, Nate, Relationships, Work)

*  What the hell? Some peeps came in for lunch today and ordered a salad and burger split and then told me they had already eaten but wanted to try us out. Who the fuck goes to a restaurant when they’re not hungry so they can “try you out?” Come hungry, fucknuts.

*  There’s this guy that comes in who is just hawt. He’s got more money than God, but he’s still hawt. He’s also very sweet. He offered to let me stay at his place in Wyoming if I ever made it out that way. My mind went in all kinds of bad, bad places. He’s one of those long tall guys that make you wonder if his penis will look small because he’s so tall.  I can’t help it.

*  Nate and Jace had a confrontation the other night. My son was trying to act like a man and my boyfriend was acting like a 12 year old. Wyoming anyone?

*  I’m hoping my bud Beanie can go with me to Rock on the Range. Then I’ll have someone to hold my place while I pee and I’ll hold her place while she pees, but then my luck would be that she would meet some hot rocker in the piss line and spend the rest of the day getting laid while I suffer, sweaty, gross, and with a full bladder pressed up against the barricade. I wouldn’t blame her.  This is why we’ve been friends for 25 years.

*  Brown sugar and cinnamon Poptarts and Kahlua go well together. At least if you drink enough Kahlua.

*  I get a buzz from the muscle relaxers in Midol.

* When my cat sneezes, I wipe his nose with a tissue just like a baby, otherwise he eats his snot, which grosses me out. I try not to think about all the snot he eats while I’m at work.

*  My new co-worker was telling me about his weight loss in anticipation of an upcoming cruise. In passing he had mentioned Cher or something and was really nosy about the Assistant Manager Intern leaving. When he flipped his hand out and said, “Yeah, I’m gay,” I said, “You? Drama queen? Whoda thunk it?”

*  Poptarts are the easiest food on Earth. I don’t even have to read the directions on the carton anymore.

*  Do you put milk in your oatmeal? I put milk in my oatmeal to cool it off before eating. I’m thinking Kahlua might be good in oatmeal. Yeah, why don’t they make better flavors of oatmeal, like White Russian, B-52, Kahlua and Cream, or yeah baby, MARGARITA! If they can make Key Lime Pie yogurt, they can make Margarita flavored oatmeal. Or beer even, like Amberbock. I don’t suppose milk would go well with Amberbock flavored oatmeal and I have to have milk in my oatmeal. Damnit.

* I’m waiting for an opportunity to say, “Swing on this.” Its an Alice song and I just like it. I guess I would have to hang out with trapeze artists or monkeys to have that opportunity. Yard apes don’t count.

*  Nate wanted me to watch a movie with him and I couldn’t because all of the characters sound like the dude from “Saw” who is also the dude who was Buffalo Bill in Silence of the Lambs. “It puts the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again.”  Nofuckingway!

*  Tango is following me around because when I went outside to retrieve more Poptarts from the car, he licking out of my Kahlua and milk glass. I thought following me to the bathroom was bad, now he wants my alcohol.

*  “Jar of Flies” and “Facelift” are my favorite Alice CDs. I knew you wanted to know that.

*  I love men with facial hair. I liken this back to the fact my father used to grow a full beard for hunting season and you know, my daddy is one of my most favoritest people in the world. One time we went to New Orleans to visit my aunt and my daddy SHAVED HIS BEARD while we were there. No one remembered to tell me. When he stepped out of the bathroom I didn’t recognize him and screamed bloody murder. All I knew was that my daddy went into the bathroom and some strange facial-hairless dude came out.

Jerry looks hawt with a beard.


And I wouldn’t run screaming if he came out with a goatee…


(Nom, nom, nom) Nor clean shaven…


I’m flexible that way. Especially when its Jerry and Jerry is Lord of the Riff. They’re previewing bites from the new album over at Its like a horseshoe to the brain. And because I wouldn’t want you to leave me, I’ve included some videoclips here.

Lord of the Riff…

Lots of facial hair goodness…

And this is just funny.

Now you can leave.

*Lights out*

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I Love Giftcards That Buy Me MUSIC!

November 26, 2008 at 12:24 am (Alice in Chains, Friends, Music)

Nate and I went out to do some shopping. As you know, my GM’s birthday is tomorrow so I went to pick her up a card. Its hilarious!

A-Rod and Mariebee got me a Target gift card for my birthday. I bought Theory of a Deadman’s new CD Scars & Souvenirs and Nickelback’s new CD Dark Horse. I had Hinder’s new CD in my hand until I saw Nickelback.  I love Theory’s song Bad Girlfriend.

My girlfriend’s a dick magnet
My girlfriend’s gotta have it
She’s hot, can’t stop, up on stage doing shots
Tip the man he’ll ring the bell, get her drunk she’ll scream like hell
Dirty girl, gettin’ down, dance with guys from outta town
Grab her ass, actin’ tough,
Mess with her, she’ll fuck you up
No one really knows if she’s drunk or if she’s stoned, but she’s comin’ back to my place tonight!

She likes to shake her ass
She grinds it to the beat
She likes to pull my hair when I make her grind her teeth
I like to strip her down
She’s naughty to the end
You know what she is, no doubt about it

It just reminds me of how I used to be. Who snickered? I don’t get up on stage and do shots anymore. On the rest I plead the Fifth.

The first song on Nickelback’s CD isn’t much better as far as naughty lyrical content. Its very similar to Bad Girlfriend. Its called Something in Your Mouth.

(you naughty thing)
your ripping up the dance floor honey
(you naughty women)
you shake your ass around for everyone
(your such a mover)
i love the way you dance with anybody
(the way you swing)
and tease them all by sucking on your thumb
your so much cooler when you never pull it out
cuz you look so much cuter with something in your mouth

When I heard the song and read the lyrics I said, “Awwwww, you dirty boys!” Or maybe I just have a dirty mind. I’ve only asked for two things for Christmas, insulated black-out curtains for my living room window and a Classic iPod, mainly because I have enough Swag Bucks saved up from my “Search and Win with Alice in Chains” to get a free AiC iPod cover. I told my mom that if she just wanted to make a contribution via a Hell*Mart gift card that I would use my other gift card and then make up the difference myself.

My “Search and Win with Alice” is its own separate toolbar and I use it when I do a search on the Internet to get Swag Bucks. Different bands, even football teams, are involved. There’s not a big list but you also get Swag Bucks for turning in old cell phones and if you go to their site and then on to another site when you do online shopping you get even more Swag Bucks. If you would like an invite, let me know. So, I want the 120GB iPod Classic, then I want to turn in my Swag Bucks and mack it out with an AIC cover. That’s my goal. I just think cleaning house would be so much more fun with an iPod.

So, what’s on your wish list?

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The ADD Post: Fruit Flies, Lemoncello, Evilness, Kitties, Etc.

November 19, 2008 at 11:01 pm (Attitude in Overdrive, Cats, Crazy Shit, Friends, Work)

I was just going to upload a picture of Luna and Jirachi before realizing that the photo is still on my camera which is in the car! Since it is 31* outside, I may or may not go to the car to get the camera. If I do go to the car to get the camera then I’m going to the store to get cigarettes and a lottery ticket (with my birthday money). I may even get ice cream.

I know, that doesn’t really make much sense, does it? 

It took me six minutes to go over and check the weather. It should have taken 5 seconds. I mean, honestly. It shouldn’t take that long to pull up my web browser, set to Yahoo, and then go over to and check the temperature of this little burg. However, I saw that I had four new messages and one of those was from Katey mah Peon and I had to answer. And my friend Kevyn also sent two messages, Oy Vey, neither of which I answered, and then I had to read about Hugh Jackman being named People Magazine’s “Sexiest Man Alive.”  Horray for Aussies! Then went over to and checked the temperature, the same one which appears on my personalized Yahoo webpage, which was the first one I opened. You can never be too careful about whether or not its 31* or 32*.

The funniest thing I heard today:  I was wandering around the restaurant during shift change and noticed our newly married bartender, Candyman, hanging out at… the bar, just on the patron side of the bar versus the working side of the bar. I had seen him earlier getting the liquor order together and we were babbling back and forth about whether Lemoncello is on the inventory list or not. Lemoncello always reminds me of “Under the Tuscan Sun” because the hot Italian guy’s family made Lemoncello. We also make a Lemoncello sorbet in addition to serving Lemoncello as a cordial.

What was I talking about? Oh yeah, Candyman. So, I walk up and greet the folks he is sitting with, a couple of regulars that always drink Miller Lite, and I said, “Whatcha doin’ Candyman?” He said, resolutely, “I’m havin’ a drink before attending… a… church function.”  I said, “Oh.” He then went on to explain that he didn’t really want to go to the church function, and that he had worked all day on cleaning up dog poopy (his word, not mine), and that it was his day off and he deserved to have a drink, church or no church, and so he was havin’ a drink!

Huh. I guess ya had to be there.

So, ya’ll know I’m workin’ on Friday, yep, a split shift on my birthday because my GM has tickets to the Harry Connick, Jr. show.  Damn shame she can’t find a date to go with her. Its a fucking tragedy people! I mean WTF? A young, pretty woman, a week away from HER birthday, that she has off. Maybe she could ask our other bartender, D, if his wife would let him go, since his birthday is Monday, that he has off.  And since I’m already going to be at work Friday, on my birthday, I could also just cover his bar shift so this tragedy just doesn’t have to happen.

Ya know, there’s a reason the owner boss calls me “The HBIC.” Emphasis on the “B.”

Speaking of owner bosses, I actually have two, the husband and wife. I’m downstairs every morning with owner boss wife and I’ve said that when I finally get out of the position of molehole accounting priestess that I’ll still spend the first hour of my day with owner boss wife. She’s a freakin’ riot and not someone you want to mess with. This lady is about 5’10” and, you know, she’s had two kids, takes no shit, and carries a T-ball bat in her SUV. That is one woman I don’t want to see coming at me with anything other than a smile. She makes this HBIC look like a wee wittle wimp.

Owner boss husband is a riot too, just in a totally different way. He’s a 6’3″ Chinaman, no I’m not kidding. His mama is a wee wittle woman, but he’s a big tall man. Both of his grandmothers immigrated here in the 1930s. One was a mail-order bride, the other was an indentured servant who had to be bought from her “owners.” Really interesting stories. Neither of them ever learned English because they lived in Chinatown in San Francisco. Where was I going with this? Oh, yeah, why owner boss husband is a riot.

Well, we have this fruit fly problem. I’m not utterly convinced that its an actual fruit fly, it may be another species of tiny fly/gnat insect. Every morning, he goes to the bar in search of more of these tiny flies, which persist even given our efforts in cleaning and bleaching the drains, and covering all of the spigots for the liquor, and sewing up the fruit tight as a drum. And owner boss husband is persistent as well. He takes a bar towel and whacks and thwacks around, until today when he whacked when he should have thwacked and knocked a wine glass off of the shelf, to which I first responded “Fumble!” and then “Opa!” as it shattered.

I know, I’m so helpful. I was even more helpful as I slunk off downstairs to finish paperwork while he cleaned it up. Hey, you break it, you do the cussin’, you do the cleanin’. Yes, he is the one that calls me HBIC, emphasis on the “B.”

Well, hell, its 9:30 and I’m down to three cigarettes. I may get that ice cream after all and ya’ll may get to see pictures of fuzzy kitties.

Hell fire, they didn’t have the icre cream I wanted and my three whole lottery tickets were duds, but, I did remember to grab my camera so, here’s Jirachi and Luna.


I know they look evil. It was Halloween and, come on, don’t you think they get it honest?

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All Answers. No Questions.

November 14, 2008 at 8:32 pm (Attitude in Overdrive, Crazy Shit, Friends, Relationships)

Somehow this got all screwed up whenever I copied and pasted it so… yeah, deal.

Aimee said,

I dunno, Nanner. Your beautiful tits have made me lose the power of speech a time or two. ;)

You were talking to Regan, weren’t you? 

evilsciencechick said,



*stare some more*

Very funny, considering you and Aimee both make me look like I need serious help in the boob department.

Evil Twin’s Wife said,

I get stared at a lot too. I’ve often told friends who don’t believe me until we’re out somewhere together. I’m not attractive, nor am I hideous, so I start thinking perhaps I’ve grown a penis out my forehead when I get ogled like that.

You are very striking, ETW, with your vivid blue eyes, dark hair, and porcelain skin. That’s why they look.

trashman said,

It’s amazing what a pretty face and a great rack can do to a guy. i had to type this twice cause I kept stuttering. How bout now, you thinking about me now?

I’m totally thinking of you Trash. Totally.

Jamie said,

Seriously, at the hospital, we get stared at a lot. I hate the room across from us, and the room next to it with the chair facing us. People think because we are on the clock that it isn’t rude or something. I’m a nurse, not a freak show. I sometimes stare right back, just as boldy as they do. Or I ask if there’s something they need, verrry nicely, of course!

I find though that I tend to stare at people I find visually interesting, for whatever reason. So I try to take it as a compliment, but some days I just can’t take it. Other days I feel like being crass, picking my nose, or scratching my butt when I’m stared at, so who knows.

Guess it’s better then being so ugly nobody can look you in the eyes ever!

I glance but attempt not to stare. Just stick your tongue into your nose, or someone elses, that normally cures it.

kenju said,

I used to get stared at a lot when I was your age, but no more. You DO have beautiful eyes and the rack doesn’t hurt, you know?

ETW, you are very attractive – so hush!

I work with whatever I got!

LisaBinDaCity said,

I don’t like being stared at either. It happens a lot though and like you, I wonder if there is something in my teeth.

Joys of being cute, I guess ;-)

Oh, I think you hit it, Lisa. the joys of being cute. LOL!

boo said,

I think it is the eyes (and the gorgeous boobs in your case) because I get people who stare and lots of them swear they know me from somewhere. I’ve been told I have mesmerizing eyes (and you definitely do too) and people can’t help but stare. It’s almost like they are locked into a target and can’t look away. Weird Huh?

Yes, Boo-Boo, but can we hynoptize them to give us money? Yes, that is the true question… look deep into my eyes….

Vince said,

I would definately be one of your “Lothario” customers, but I’d be subtle about it. And I’d tip you well if the service was good.

Your beauty and your breasts would not cause me to lose the ability to speak in coherent sentences, but might result in totally shameless flattery of your famed beauty and the fact you couldn’t be older than 21.

My service is always good Vince. Oh, did you mean serving food? Yeah, I was talking about something else.

Tina said,

The guys just think you are hot! The pretentious, bitchy fatasses are just jealous that you are hot! )

Then again maybe everyone in question is jealous because they see that “glow” that only they WISHED for! )

I’ve been glowing a lot lately…

themom said,

Anyone who has worked in the food service industry – has to agree with every word. At one time in my life, I think I must have waited on the same people. But from that Halloween picture – your eyes are captivating. That’s the first thing I notice on everyone.

I”m not sure what I notice about people first… probably their smile.

Jammie J. said,

Fruit??? You offer them fruit? I’d stare, too.


Oh I kid. Maybe they’d like to ask you if they could have a hug? You do have the best hugs ever. ) Or maybe they’re not staring at you at all… maybe it’s a vacant stare and they’re trying to work out the problems in their universe. Or maybe they are staring at you and you should just be glad it’s not a malovent stare.

Yes, I offer fruit. FRUIT! It could be they’re trying to figure out what planet I’m from Jammie. Yeah, that’s it.

Michael said,

It’s time for the burka.
They’ll still stare, but they won’t see much.
And assume you’re a muslim, and then probably make the illogical leap that you’re a terrorist.
So homeland security will be staring too.
Okay, forget the burka.
Maybe a Scuba suit?

Mikey, you want me to wear a scuba suit? *Blink* Yeah, that’s BEST way to hide these hooters. LOL!

Zelda said,

Sheesh. If you’re fat and ugly you can still have charm. And that’s half the battle right there.

I know a lot of charming people, just wish I waited on more of them. Thanks for the offer of rescue, from you and Trash. It means a lot. However, I still know how to shoot a gun, so I think we’re all good.

Well, that was fun. I had some comments typed up and somehow they disappeared and then I was sick for three/four days with some weird stomach flu in which you can’t throw up, can’t shit, and your guts bloat up and cramp like hell. Its been lovely.

Then Jeff decided, despite all the knocking on wood I’ve done, to turn into a little bitch again. He’s not been mean to me, other than getting drunk and threatening to commit suicide, which just fucks with me. He told me this yesterday, telling me he just wanted to tell me good-bye and told me what to bury him in and how often he wanted fresh flowers on his grave, and tells me he’s either going to blow a hole in his head or step out in front of a train. I told him a lot of things but among them was, “Go to bed and call me in the morning.”

I offered today to take him to his psych hospital of choice which is about 45 minutes away from here. He just asked me to call the police on him. Um, no. I’m not calling the police. I’m not putting the men in blue in danger of his stupid ass walking outside with a gun and then committing suicide by cop because he’s too chicken shit to do it himself. Especially since that man in blue may have worked with him. What a fuckotomy that would be.

I’ll not have a good man have to question himself in the dead of the night as to whether or not he did the right thing.

I’ll not have a good man be relieved of his gun and badge while they investigate whether or not he did the right thing.

I’ll not have a good man have the stigma of killing another person follow him around for the rest of his life.

If Jeff wants to off himself, he will do so without anyone’s help. Especially mine. If he can call me, he can call his psychiatrist. He can call a crisis hotline. He can call the police himself. He can check himself into one of the three psychiatric facilities in our area, one less than two blocks from his house. I think the man is desperate for help and I think he’s even more desperate for someone to feel sorry for him and to have a pity party for him because his dad threatened to call the police on him. Yeah, they’re fed up with his shit too.

So, today, while Jeff was talking about how his ex-girlfriend is fucking with him I told him to stop fucking with me about killing himself. I told him to stop talking about how much better it would be use a .22 rather than a .357 because the hole is smaller. I told him I’ve seen what it looks like. I’ve seen someone shot execution style in the head with a .22. I also saw her the infant daughter she was 8 months pregnant with in the casket with her. Been there, done that, so stop fucking with me. I’ll put fresh flowers on your fucking grave, just shut the fuck up, take responsibility for yourself, and while you’re at it, get a job. Needless to say, he hung up.

Then, my friend Kevyn has been trying to reach me so he can whine about his life. Friends, I’m all full of compassion and empathy for my fellow man, but there comes a time when I will tell you to either do something about what you’re whining about or shut up about it. I’ve reached that point with him. When he couldn’t reach me last night because I was either talking to the only sane man in my life, Jace, or I was on a “crisis” call with Jeff, I’m sorry I couldn’t squeeze in or even want to squeeze in, a whine session with him. Take a number, get in line, or, wow, call your fucking psychiatrist because my guess is, he’s getting paid to listen to you, and SURPRISE, I DON’T!

I’m sorry your bulldog-faced, uppity, cold wife walked out on you after 26 years of marriage. I’m sorry she’s sleeping with another man, although YOU slept with other women outside of your marriage FIRST. DIVORCE. HER. MOVE. ON.

I’m also sorry you don’t have the balls to tell your 22 year old son to GET A FUCKING JOB ALREADY, stop smoking pot, stop shooting your veins full of nasties, stop snorting shit up your nose and be a productive member of society. I’m sorry you don’t have the balls to take his car away or report it stolen when he won’t bring it back, and I’m frightfully sorry that he still wants to have anything to do with your future ex-wife, who helps him fund all of the above behaviors. Take that up with HER.

My 12 year old has more sense than the three of you COMBINED! My 12 year old wishes he was old enough to work so he can buy his own toys! My 12 year old got his hair cut and hard labor when he decided he wanted to cop an attitude. Imagine what I’ll do when he’s 22 and acting like a spoiled brat. So, stop treating your son like he’s 12 and more like he’s 22 or maybe you should treat him like he’s 12, since that’s how old he’s acting. And while you’re at it, you can get a job too.

I have three days off but only so I can be rested to work four 10 hour shifts, including a double on my birthday. My new man has the weekend off, so I intend on soaking myself in his beautiful blue eyes, his goatee, his positive attitude, his wonderful kisses, and as much sex as I can get by with. Since I’m pulling my shingle in, I’ll leave you with some advice.

1. Your life is what you make it. If you need help, get it. Don’t wait for someone to do it for you.

2. Think about how often you whine about something. Fix or forget it. Do something about it or shut the fuck up.

3. Stand up to your kids. They’ll still love you. I’m living proof.

4. Get a job. If you have one, keep it. If you don’t like it, find another one.

Dr. Nanner has left the building. Take a number, get in line, I’ll be back Tuesday.

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Watching Over Me

November 9, 2008 at 2:55 pm (Black Stone Cherry, Crazy Shit, Friends, Memories, Music, My Travels, Relationships, Shop, Work)

Today, my friend Kevin has been dead two years. I’m finally at peace with what happened and I know that he is watching over me.

Day before yesterday, I was talking to our new evening pantry cook, Jace. He started about two months ago and we always passed on my way out and his way in. He works exclusively nights and I work almost exclusively days. He has another full-time job which is why he works nights. I thought he was really cute, but figured he was too young for me. Well, I found out he was only 5 years younger. Hmmmm…

Friday I worked evening shift and he made the remark that he really didn’t get to go out much and I said, “Yeah, me neither.” And then our conversation got swallowed up by other people hitting the smoke hole before shift started. Later, I was loitering around pantry, due to the positive vibe from our earlier conversation, and he asked me out, which I accepted. We quietly agreed to meet after I got off work yesterday.

We met at a local food and watering hole, ate, drank, talked, and watched football. We then went to another, more quiet, watering hole and drank more and talked. Things were going really, really good. I told him about Kevin and laughed about the fact that Kevin always ate those convenience store burritos that were as big as his head. They were closing up so I asked if he wanted to take a trip to one of my fave places and drink more. He was game so, yes, we headed to The Point.

On the way there, we stopped at the last gas station before heading out onto the sparsley populated two lane highway and ran into a guy who asked if we knew of any bars in the general vicinity, within walking distance, as he was driving a big rig. Jace and I both knew of some bars but they were too far away to walk in the cold night. The driver thanked us, held up a beer and said, “Well, I’ll just kick back in the rig and have a beer and some food.” That food… a ginormous convenience store burrito. It even said, “X-XLarge” on the package. I smiled and pointed it out to Jace.

On the way to The Point, I asked Jace if he believed in signs and he said that sometimes he did and sometimes he didn’t and that you could pretty well turn anything into a “sign” if you wanted it to be. I agreed but I also pointed out that I hadn’t seen anyone with a convenience store burrito until tonight and it was right after I told Jace about Kevin. He agreed that it was something to think about. We talked every moment of the 45 minute drive to The Point and I saw another sign… a shooting star.

Double Ds is the local dive/karaoke bar in that area, one that you can still smoke in. Jace used to sing in some bands so he took a stab at the karaoke and the owner wants him to take part in the karaoke contest next weekend. He’s hot and he’s a great singer, okay? Then the DJ played “Crazy Bitch” by Buckcherry and we had a great time singing that together, as well as the Kid Rock song, “So Hott.” I guess that goes to show that Jace and I… well, we’re birds of a feather when it comes to music.

We left around closing and took a short walk around town to see the Mothman statue, the waterfront, and the obelisk at Tu-Endie-We State Park. We got some kissing in as well. It was well close to 4 a.m. by the time we stopped by my house for a potty break before I took him back to his car. However, more kissing ensued and more kissing and finally, after 18 long months, I finally christened my queen size bed. Eight hours, very little sleep, and a trip to IHOP later, I finally dropped him off at his car.

He admitted at some point that he had thought of cancelling our date because we work together and he knows how that can go sometimes. I’m really glad he didn’t though. I’m also really hopeful that he doesn’t flake out on me, which could still happen, and sometimes does happen even though you have a great time together and we have a lot in common and some things not so much in common, which is a good thing. I laughed and smiled so much my face hurt.

For a date that lasted over 16 hours, I still wasn’t ready for it to be over. He didn’t seem to be in any hurry either. I’m not sure what’s going to happen but it sure is nice to know that I can still click with someone.

As for Kevin, I love you my friend and thanks for letting me know you’re still with me. I miss you.

At night I go to sleep and pray he is watching over me,

Somewhere there’s a sun that’s shining so bright that I can see you smile and all that I need is one last chance just to hear you say good-bye.

And if you have a dream, you better hang on for dear life. And when that cold wind blows just let it pass you by.

Selected lyrics from “Things My Father Said” by Black Stone Cherry.

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Choice of Words

October 30, 2008 at 7:50 am (Family, Friends, General, Memories, Relationships) (, )

Within the past few days I’ve had a lot on my mind. During the solitary drives to work and home again, I’ve wondered about the evolution of my family, especially on my dad’s side of the family.

My Grandpa Joe was a good man. He was jovial, kind, and loved irritating my mother. However, he wasn’t politically correct in the least. I never heard him call a black man, or African-American, by either of those names. He called them niggers. While the term “nigger” is seen as demeaning and derisive, my grandfather didn’t use it derisively and by that I mean he didn’t use it with malice. There was nothing, in his mind, wrong with saying, “Me ‘n’ Dave and that nigger Jim, we went…” and he would tell his story.

I figured out this wasn’t something nice to say by the way my mother’s back would straighten and her lips would purse and the porch swing would move a little faster. My father, more often than not, would continue to rock in the frayed lawn chair and stare out over the river.

I can only assume that at some point I heard my mother’s opinion of her father-in-law’s choice of words, probably as I lay prostrate outside the bathroom, eavesdropping through the crack at the bottom of the door. (This was one of my favorite eavesdropping spots as all important parental meetings took place in the bathroom, supposedly away from “little people with big ears.”)

Because our parents are our first and most important role models, I began wondering why my father did not adopt his father’s “choice of words.” Was it because his family was one of the few in his tiny community that had a television? Was it because during his high school years of 1956-1960 that the Civil Rights Movement had to have been on that television very prominently?

Was it because there were black families in our community who had children who attended high school with him without all of the racial tensions of the deep South? (His high school had two black school bus drivers and a black teacher.)

Was it because he served in the military with them? Was it because he went to college with them? Was it because he worked with them? Or was there some other incident or even person in his life that made him eschew his father’s “choice of words?”

I most certainly plan on asking him the next time I see him.

One of my other favorite eavesdropping spots was my bedroom window, which overlooked the neighbor’s driveway. If that wasn’t good enough, I could always drop down to my parents’ bedroom window, which was directly under mine, not only to get a better view, but a better earshot of what was going on. At some point my neighbors took in either his niece or her niece. Her name was Brandy and I’ll never forget her.

There were only two black families in our community at the time and everyone knew them. The boys of the “S” family were the sons of the same black teacher that had taught my father and mother at the high school and grandsons of one of the aforementioned bus drivers. I recognized one of them next door at my neighbors’ house. At that time, their back door opened into the driveway, right in eyeview and earshot. I heard my neighbor yelling at Brandy and the “S” man and telling them to get out. And, I heard the word, “nigger.”

I believe that was the first time I had ever heard the word used that way – with anger, disgust, and hate.

I went to the paragon of all things in my life at the time, which would mean my mother. It seems as though by standing in the kitchen washing dishes she was able to absorb via osmosis the fracas next door and was somewhat prepared to answer my questions. I knew the “S” men. One of the them, the younger, was a student teacher at my grade school. Why was my neighbor being so hateful? My mother tried to explain that our neighbor didn’t think that black and whites should date each other.

“But why?”

I would have felt sorry for my mother at this point. There isn’t an answer she could have given me that would have satisfied me. Perhaps it called into sharp focus her own prejudices, that while she may not have agreed with my neighbor’s methods, she did agree with her ideology. I found that out when Troy and I started seeing one another, probably about 20 years later. Now, 30 years later, my mother at least, is more open to inter-racial relationships and figures, hell, anything goes. My father, not so much so, or, do I even really know?

And what the hell did any of us know of “race relations” anyway? The “S” family had been in our community for two or three generations. The “F” family moved away and the “D” family, the father was a teacher at our high school, his wife and their seven children, moved there in the early 80’s. We found their seven children more intriquing than their color. The only other minorities in our community were the “B” family . Their mother was Vietnamese. Yet again, we found it more intriquing that they had five boys in the family and that they were Jehovah’s Witnesses than the fact their mother was from Vietnam.

Other families that had been in the community for a long time had Lebanese and Greek roots, but no one thought much about it other than it made a good story at the Lion’s Club meeting.

Not to say there weren’t racial remarks made in passing, but they were met with stony silence, disapproving looks, and most often a, “Shut the fuck up, asshole.”

Our tiny rural community was hardly a microcosm of America. Still today it isn’t a bustling hub of immigrants and minorities. But, in the turbulent late 50’s and early 60’s, it was progressive for its time and place in America. The principal did not stand on the steps of the high school and block the black children from attending. There were no riots or police dogs or firehoses. The Klan did not ride through the night and burn crosses.

While there are many things I could say about the rural town of my upbringing, the best I can say is that they taught their children to be racially tolerant. Whether it was because we had such a small number of minorities and they were well respected or just because we know what it felt like to be judged harshly and unfairly, not for the color of our skin, but for the location of our birth.

My neighbor was the exception rather than the rule and her son, who was the same age as myself, didn’t share her viewpoint of the world, just as my father did not share his father’s choice of words.

To be continued…

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A Chat With Nate’s BFF

October 16, 2008 at 10:33 pm (Friends, Nate, Relationships)

Over my four years here at Anything Goes, I’ve written a lot about my former nabes and their son, who is two years older than Nate. The majority of what I’ve written wasn’t always becoming to my former neighbors and a lot of times they really pissed me off.

I could say that they’ve raised a great kid, but actually, that great kid raised himself. 

I never agreed with Cam walking home from school to an empty house before he was out of grade school. The excuse was that his mom would be home within 15 minutes, but a lot of times she wasn’t. Sometimes his dad didn’t get home until 6 and his mom didn’t come home until 9. And there was Cam, all 9 years old of him, sitting home, alone.

At the age of 11 or 12, Cam was left home alone at night while his parents went out to party. They would call to let me know they would be gone, just in case Cam needed something. I spent many a night at this computer, writing, until the wee hours of the morning, with the window cracked, the blind half drawn, so I could watch over this child. Often it was 1 or 2 o’clock before I would hear their dogs barking and the scrape and slam of their front door, allowing me the peace of mind to go to sleep.

By the time they lost their house a few years back, I had pretty much had enough. I knew something was going on over there, but not quite sure what it was. I’ve heard rumors but nothing concrete and it seems as though losing their house smacked some sense back into them. They’ve moved a few times since then but have finally settled in the Capitol City, in a not so great part of town, two doors down from where Troy used to live, and two doors down from one of the guys that used to work at the Shop (who AZ very recently had arrested for embezzlement.)  Its a small world.

Cam, much more so than either parent, appears to be determined to overcome and achieve. In grade school, he failed a grade and was making straight F’s at one point. This all changed during middle school. He’s received two awards in school and regularly makes the honor roll. Again, head and shoulders above both parents in his will to better himself.

I pick him up every Friday night on the weekends that I have Nate, if possible. He went rockhounding with us and we went to the Black Walnut Festival together. He thinks going to Golden Corral is the shizznet. I had to work late one night, past 11 on a Saturday and Nate had said he would just stay at Cam’s for the night. No doing. Nate called and said, “Um, Cam wants to come to our house. Can you pick us up after you get off?” Of course. When can I turn down my kids?

For the most part, Cam is a quiet child. Although he and Nate can get going with the sword play and video games, he’s rather quiet around me, although I’ve known him over half his life. I think he likes hanging with Nate because Nate is old enough to be cool, but young enough that Cam gets to reclaim some of his own lost childhood. Cam has a quiet maturity that juxtaposes Nate’s still immature exuberance.

I still haven’t figured out what the difference is though in Nate staying there and Cam wanting instead to be here. Its always HERE. He wants to hang out with Nate, but HERE. Perhaps its because he used to live next door, and although things weren’t perfect, perhaps they were better.

This past weekend, he said he was ready to go home and Nate didn’t feel like riding, so I took Cam home by myself. I took a hold of that opportunity with both hands. I told him how proud I was of how he was doing in school and hoped he understood how important a good education is. He said he did and after a bit told me he wanted to go to technical school to learn about computers and how to build them. He’s talked before about being a video game developer.

I told him to look into going to vo-tech while he was still in high school and getting a leg up. I also mentioned he might want to look into WV Tech and getting a degree in some type of computer program they have there.

I asked him about Christmas and what he was wanting. He said, “Not much. I asked my parents for a 10 speed bike and (something I can’t remember! Damnit!). My bike is pretty bad off.” I have no doubt that he’s looking ahead two years until he turns 16 in August of 2010 to get a job and is thnking ahead for transportation.

I didn’t want to pry too hard into his head, like I said, he’s pretty quiet. However, I let him know that I would do anything I could to help him. He’s such a fine young man and he’s really been a great friend to Nate. He’s definitely not afraid to call Nate to the mat for being brattish.

I just wish I had the money for 10 speed bike.

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