Is there any such thing as a "good" goodbye?

As I sit in front of my computer shortly after midnight on this the first day of 2008 it dawn's on me that this is not only a day to welcome a New Year, it is also a time to say goodbye to an Old Year... All of the television networks have some sort of countdown to help us say goodbye to the year, i.e. The Year's Best Sports Moments, This Year in Weather, Train wrecks of the Year, The Year of the Amazing Orgasm Review... okay, okay... I made the last one up... Although, if I was the Head of Programming for any major network or the Playboy Channel that would be one of the countdowns. Trust me. These countdowns are intended to fill us with laughter and joy and fond memories of the year that has gone by. They are meant to instill us with warm fuzzies at a time that, really, can be quite difficult depending on the year we had. I look at it differently. I have a different perspective. Are you surprised? I didn't think so. You know that I have to skew just about everything. I get off on it. Here it goes.... The countdowns are shown every year at this time to deflect us from realizing that we are saying "Goodbye." We are letting go of the year that was, and let's face it people, "Goodbye" is never a good thing. Before you people say that never is a poor choice in this case I would like to ask that you shut the Hell up until my point is made. Ooooo... that was harsh... Well, shoot, y'all try to get ahead of me too much. Moving on... Look deep and hard into your past. By past I mean as recently as yesterday afternoon and as far back as you can clearly remember. Think about as many goodbyes as you can think of. Any of them good? Now I know that some are thinking, "Well, there were some people and places and situations that I was glad to say goodbye to..." I understand that. I do. Think about it, though. If you were glad to say goodbye, then something was very wrong, ergo, no such thing as a "good" goodbye. May I move on please? I can think of several goodbyes in my life that I can honestly say have affected me a great deal. Some of them because of the permanence in the goodbye. Some because of the incertitude that accompanies the goodbye. Some just because they did not go the way that you wanted them to (to which I would ask, "Do they ever?"). I have had all three of these types of goodbyes throughout my 34 years. I can recall a difficult one that fell into the permanence category. It was with the cat that adopted my family when I was around 10. He was an outside cat that moved to our backyard when his owners (our neighbors) moved to Utah. They asked if we could take care of him and before they were gone, he was in our yard looking for food and love. Both of which were provided and subsequently, the love was returned. He was my rock during those tough, awkward, early teens years. I would retreat to the backyard, full of teenage angst and distraught by the treatment I had received from some girl in Jr High and this cat would come from ANYWHERE in the neighborhood. He was tuned into my brooding. He would arrive just as I flopped down into the lounge chair in disgust. He would jump on my lap and look at me as if to commiserate. It was great. Well, he lived by the sword as an outdoor cat. As a result he was to die by the sword. An abscess that was the result of a fight ended up getting infected rather quickly and rather than allowing him to suffer, the Vet suggested that we put him down. I remember being left with him in the room for a moment and this big, strong, tough teenager balled his eyes out saying goodbye to his com padre. It sucked. Hard core. The incertitude types of goodbyes are usually applied to break-ups. You never know how it will end, really. It is such a pain in the ass. The ones that didn't go the way you wanted them to? Too numerous to count, right? How many times did you prepare yourself for a certain goodbye (grandma, cousins, best friend from the old neighborhood) only to have it take too long, end too quickly or just not go well at all? A lot, huh? Don't tell me no! If you are, you are just being a pain. You know it. Here is the question of the day. Ever had a goodbye that encompassed all three of the above? One that was filled with incertitude, jam- packed with a perceived or possible permanence, and that just wasn't what you wanted it to be? The Tri-Fecta of the Shitty Goodbyes. Often, with these types of goodbyes, there is a great deal of love and well-intentioned emotion. You want to make the goodbye as easy as possible. You want it to be the one that is going to be good. It becomes clear almost the moment you see the person that it will not be good. It is almost tangible. The tension. The sadness. The reality. It hits you like a ton of bricks. Even though you are here in front of me right now, you are here to say "Goodbye." Goodbye is never good. Remember I said that earlier? A couple of times? So, you smile. You make small talk, you hug, maybe kiss, maybe gently yet tentatively hold hands... Only prolonging the inevitable. Hold back the tears. Don't let them know how you are dying inside. Remember, this was supposed to be good. It is a given that you would much prefer to have seen them before they were gone. You needed that "one last time." A given but not necessarily the best choice considering how you feel as you walk away.... Unable to look back for fear of breaking down completely... It was a good thing... Just not a"good" goodbye... Remember, none of them are.

Just a quick note....

This is a copy of the letter I just wrote to a local newspaper columnist regarding some advice I had taken from him. I thought that on this day before Christmas, it might be a bit of an inspiration for some. Thank you for reading!!!

Dear Clay,


I am an avid reader of your column. I admire your work a great deal and being the trivia/ "useless information" buff that I am, I find myself using your column as a source of wisdom(?). With this is in mind, I must also mention that I have recently used your column as a source of advice. I took my 6 year old shopping this last week. It was the morning your column mentioned that we should remember how difficult this time of year is for cashiers and retail employees in general. Standing in line at one of the Mega Stores, I noticed how flustered and haggard the retirement aged cashier was. It had been a long day and the goobers in front of me were not making things any easier. Then once my daughter and I reached the front of the line, one of the items I had for purchase would not scan so, frustrated, she had to go through the steps of entering the item in manually. As she was doing this I instructed my 6 year old to get me a bag of M & M's. She brought the M & M's with a great deal of excitement (thinking they were hers) and I handed them to the cashier. The cashier rang them and started to hand them to my sweet patootie and I stopped her. I said, "No, those are for you." She looked at me confused for a moment. My daughter had the same strange look on her face. I calmly mentioned that her day was more difficult than ours and that she could probably use them more. She was speechless and bleary eyed. The woman behind me just thought that was the neatest thing she had ever seen in all of her 70 years. My daughter informed the cashier, after figuring out what Daddy was doing, that "That's called giving. It's what you do at Christmas." Thank you Clay. Thank you for teaching me a new way to enjoy this time of year. Thank you for showing me a new way to teach my daughter about this time of year. Thank you for doing what you do. You have helped this part-time Grinch expand his tiny heart 3 sizes bigger.

Sincerely,

Bradley Jones

I am due for another music blog, how about y'all?

Here he goes again. It seems like every time the fat guy adds some new songs to his playlist we gotta listen to him ramble endlessly about the power of music, or adding a soundtrack to our lives, blah, blah, blah.... Yeah, well, ya know what???!!!! Bite me. This one, like ALL of the other blogs about music is very near and dear to me for a few reasons. First, because it is about music. Music being a major influence and force in my life. Second, because of the songs that I did add to my list tonight and why I added them. Finally, this blog is near and dear because I am going to talk about fishing poles, people, and Sha-Na-Na. What? Just relax, it will all tie together. Bear with me. Okay, music. Yes it's a driving force in my life etc.. etc.... Yes, you all know how important it is to me. Especially at this time of year. Many of you who know me, know that this time of year has always been a rough time for me. Not due to any tragedy or any Santa related creepiness..... Just have always been kind of a Grinch.... Until Vivian came along. Having kids will change your view of many things. Including those things you thought you would NEVER change your mind about. Like Christmas. Don't get me wrong. I have not been transformed into a fan of the times. Just softened up a bit. Around her. Still pretty much a Grinch whenever I get the chance. Especially when it comes to Christmas songs. Sure, I remember singing all the old versions of the songs growing up. Jimmy Boyd's version of "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus." Gene Autry belting out "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer." Brenda Lee telling us about "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree." I remember singing along with all of 'em. As I got older, though, they started to lose their charm. Over and over again. It was awful. They just kept playing them. On TV. On the radio. In the stores. At the restaurants. I got to the point where I was not only a Grinch because of the time of year but also because of the music of the time of the year. That was until I heard two different songs that forever warped me into a blubbering idiot whenever I heard them. Now, as you know, with me, I am not afraid to admit that a great deal of music stirs strong emotions in me. What you didn't know is that "The Little Drummer Boy" by Jars of Clay and "Do They Know It's Christmas" By Band-Aid and/or the Barenaked Ladies (either version is amazing) will reduce this Agnostic Christmas hater into a pile of teary blubber. Yep. A song about the birth of Jesus Christ and a song about a bunch of starving kids in Africa touch my soul in ways reserved only for Cyndi Lauper, Ben E. King, and the Monkees. Strange, huh? I think so. I have no idea why. I have heard many versions of "The Little Drummer Boy" and have enjoyed a few of them at one time or another. None of them do to me what the aforementioned version does. Cannot, will not, and don't want to try and explain. Deal with it. As far as the starving African kids? Don't know why that one does it either. It may be because of the one line sung by Bono in the original version... "...well tonight, Thank God it's them, instead of you..." There is such venom behind his voice that I think he put there on purpose. It worked on me. Got me thinking. Realizing no matter how rough things are on me this time of year, someone is suffering even more. Some don't even know what Christmas is or what it is all about. Not the religious aspect, the season in general. The giving. The receiving. The love. The family. The spirit. The stories. The laughter. The tears. The memories. All of these things make this time of year what it is. These two songs help me remember this. What are your songs? Finally... Fishing poles, people and Sha-Na-Na. There was quite a bit of controversy on my last blog when it posted on myspace. Seems like I led everyone to believe that there was some woman out there that I wanted real bad but couldn't, shouldn't and have not had. Well, I will stand here now and say that y'all are only partly right. Which part is right? I will never, EVER tell. Especially since y'all got so worked up. I have said that it could have been a fishing pole that I was talking about. It may have been a Light-Up Nativity Scene using the original cast of Sha-Na-Na (featuring Bowzer as the Christ Child). I am not telling if it was one of these things or a person. What I am going to say is relax.... Try not to think too hard about it.... It's Christmas time!

Oh yeahhh!!!! I'm gettin' all biblical on yer ass!!!!!

Well, I started another blog a few days ago and intend to finish it but I have another issue I would like to discuss at the present time. It is not necessarily a pressing issue or one that demands immediate attention. It's an issue that has been hanging around me for some time now and I thought I would put it out there for you folks to mull over. Perhaps after reading, some of you may even commiserate. If you are not able to determine from the title that this will be a biblically themed blog, please stop reading and go lie down. Biblically themed, eh? What particular Bible story would the Agnostic like to speak about? What part of a book that I find it so difficult to believe would pique my interest enough to write about? Adam and Eve. More specifically, the forbidden fruit. Yes, that's right. I am going to go there people. I have to. I have avoided this subject like the plague and have spent a great deal of time and effort stepping around it but I have to just step right in it. Cannot avoid it any more. What do I mean by the forbidden fruit? That which we want, but can't have. It is that simple. The forbidden fruit (for you heathens) was a reference in the Bible to fruit from the Tree of Knowledge in the Garden of Eden. God told Adam and Eve (the first humans according to the Bible. Again, for the heathens) not to eat fruit from the Tree and, of course, they did. Got themselves thrown right out of the Garden, they did. So throughout history, whenever someone has wanted something that they just cannot have, it has been referred to as wanting some forbidden fruit. So, tell me people, am I the only one? Am I the only fool in this world who has experienced this to the extreme that I find myself experiencing this now? Wait a minute.... Back up, fat man..... Did you say "experiencing this NOW?" What is it you want that you cannot have? What is it that has inspired you to write this amazing blog about Adam and Eve and fruit etc.....? Is there something (or someone) that you long for? Are you pining for something (or someone) that you just cannot have? Do you find yourself yearning for something (or someone) that is not yours? Yeah, like I am telling y'all. You people should know me better than that by now. I will just say that it is possible that there is something (or someone) I would really like to have and it just does not seem like I can or will so I want to know that I am suffering with others. Ever heard the saying "Misery Loves Company?" I need to know that there are those of you in my vast reader audience that know what I am talking about. I need to feel like it's okay to feel this. I have to tell you, it is the strangest feeling I have ever experienced. It is such a jumbled mess of several other emotions. Both good and bad. Mostly good, but the bad (pining, yearning, wanting) tend to be very strong. This combination makes the whole situation similar to an addiction. Want it, can't have it, makes you want it more.... Sounds like addiction to me. Textbook. What I am yearning for is not any substance of an addictive nature. I will tell you that much. Would not put this much effort into writing about a craving for a 'tini. Believe me. This is much more real. More tangible. More difficult. It deals with matters of both the mind and the heart. Well, I guess I should hold on to the other old saying, "This too, shall pass." ...I hope to Hell it doesn't...

Latin may be a dead language, but it's got some great sayings! Here are three!!

When I was in High School, we had to chose a foreign language. Everyone had to. We had to spend a few semesters in a classroom learning a language that we may or may not ever need. Usually, the instructors for these languages were as colorful as the language itself. I know that at my High School, this was all too true. There was Herr Bordwell. The German teacher. My German teacher. He looked like a cross between the Pillsbury Dough Boy and Adolf Hitler...That is no exaggeration. Great teacher, albeit a tad high strung. I know there was a woman who taught French and she was every bit of the stereotypical French teacher with the squeaky voice and the die hard insistence on only speaking French in class. Then there were the Spanish teachers and then... The Latin teacher... Mr Soto. Never had a day of class time with this man but I had many conversations with him. He was fascinating. Probably in his 60's at the time I was in High School. Probably too many substances during the 1960's as well. Very laid back. Very cool. VERY intelligent. He taught me a new Latin Phrase at least once a month during my senior year. Just for fun. Just because. There are three that have stuck with me throughout the years and in the last few weeks, these three phrases have become very prevalent in my life. Therefore, I felt compelled to share them. The first saying... Persona non Grata... Literally translated, the unwelcome person. Typically, this phrase is used in diplomatic situations where someone has stepped over the boundaries and is no longer recognized by a governing body. It can also apply to someone who feels on the outside of things. Outside for reasons that are not their choice. I consider it almost a state of being. Ever felt like a Persona non Grata? Like no one wants to let you join in the reindeer games? Like the world is having a good laugh and it's AT you, not WITH you. I hate that feeling. I may bring it on myself but I really don't like it. I have felt it recently and it sucks. When I start to feel that way, the best thing for me to do is move on to the next phrase which is... Carpe Diem... Seize the Day. We all remember the movie "Dead Poets Society." If you don't, you need to rent it. Seriously. This has to be a movie that you see. The phrase Carpe Diem was almost a theme for the movie. Seize the Day. Live life to it's fullest. Grab a hold and hang on. "Gather ye rose buds, while ye may..." Robert Herrick said it. I believe it. Knowing this, I can shake the old Persona non Grata feeling and start grabbing life by the horns. The last phrase is probably my favorite. It is one that has been attributed to Julius Caesar but there are many possibilities as to where it actually originated. The phrase... Alea Iacta Est... The Die is Cast. Uhhhhhh what? It's quite simple, really. Just as in the game of craps where once the die are thrown there is no turning back, this phrase means the dice have been thrown. Cast meaning throw as in cast away, or cast your fishing line. Caesar apparently said these words as he was leading his men into battle as if to say, "Hey boys, there is no turning back now! Drop your cocks and grab your socks because it is into the abyss!!!" So often, I have found this phrase to be a reassuring battle cry in my life when I have made a tough decision. Whenever I start to self-doubt or question a choice, I just remind myself, Alea Iacta Est. No turning back. The choice has been made. The wheels are in motion. You either stick to it, or fall behind and be left for dead. By the way, the phonetic pronunciation for this phrase, as near as I can tell, is a-lay yawk-taw es. I have also heard it pronounced o-lay yawk-taw-es. I am sure the Latins won't care. There are not too many of them around to get on you if you mess it up. I bet Mr. Soto knows the right way.....

Another "Inherit the Wind" moment... Brought to you by Marie Callender's...Makers of the best Humble Pie...

I had to talk about a moment that I witnessed today. It was a moment that I will not soon forget. One that has left an indelible mark on my brain. One that I will recall for years to come when someone asks me if I have ever seen a hero topple in person. We have all witnessed athletes, celebrities, and religious figures, who once had hero status, fall in disgrace due to their own greed or stupidity. These things usually take place on television. This way, even if they were our hero, we have this built in detachment that is the screen. They are not experiencing this right in front of us. They are thousands of miles away in their own world, not even caring what we think. It is far more rare to see someone you know, perhaps a hero of yours, fall from grace. I saw something like that today. Perhaps not a fall from grace, as it were. More like a weakness. realizing that Superman is weakened by Kryptonite. Finding out that Achilles can be killed if he is hit in the heel. That is what I saw today. How does this relate to Inherit the Wind? What comparisons can be drawn? Very simple. Matthew Harrison Brady (played by Frederic March) is on the stand being cross-examined by Henry Drummond (brilliantly played by Spencer Tracy) in the "Trial of the Century." Keep in mind that the movie is based on the Scopes Monkey Trial and that the courtroom scenes are actual court transcripts. During his cross, Henry Drummond is able to shake the very foundation that Matt Brady is standing on. This leaves Matt shouting incoherently and demanding attention and respect much to the shock of his many followers.... How could this great man be reduced to such a pitiful state? How does a God-fearing man of the Bible get destroyed by a Godless Agnostic in a battle of faith? The expressions on the faces of the followers as they leave the courtroom spoke volumes. They were watching their hero fall. The relationship would never be the same. I must say that what I witnessed was not a man who had been elevated to hero status falling before my eyes. Rather, a man who prides himself in his unflappable demeanor. His crusty, grumpy, outer-shell ever present. His strength in the face of stress and concern always on high. All of these attributes, taken away and he was reduced to tears with one phone call. A phone call that informed him that his mother is dying of cancer. If you know me at all, you have heard me talk about the chef at the restaurant where I work. A stubborn, gravelly voiced, opinionated black man by the name of Leonard. For all of his layers of crust, the man has a heart of gold. He is a boss. He is an asshole. He is a friend. It broke my heart to watch him suffer with the news. I was speechless. Yes, me. I was unable to come up with any words of comfort and encouragement. I felt they would seem insincere, contrived. So, I said nothing. Before I left, I placed my hand on his shoulder. As his back was to me, he had to turn around to see who was violating his personal space. There must have been a knowing look on my face or perhaps there was some influence from above, but this salty, angry, loud bastard actually hugged me. It was one of the most satisfying hugs a man can get from a man. It was just the right thing for both of us. I thought about ruining the moment and grabbing his ass, but I thought better of it....

The Meaning of Life.... No, not the Monty Python movie....The actual meaning....Well, sort of.....

So, yesterday was interesting. It was one of those days where, at the end of it all, you sit back and say...(plug your ears/close your eyes if you prefer PG rated stuff...) "Holy Shit!" I believe those were my exact words when my head finally hit my pillow sometime very late last night. It was a day filled with so many eye opening and life changing occurrences for me and those close to me that I just could not wrap my head around all of it. Some of the "occurrences" actually took place on another day, well actually just one of the "occurrences," but I just heard about it yesterday. I just noticed that I put quotes around "occurrences." I have done it every time I wrote the word "occurrences." Can't you just see me saying the word "occurrences" and making those little quote signs in the air as I say it? What a complete dork..... I need help.... Okay, back on task. It just seemed to me that yesterday was a day for realization. A day for contemplation. A day for discovery. A day to remember. There were 3 specific instances that I am going to be focusing on. There is no chronological order or order of importance to them. In one way or another, they all have a great deal of importance. Therefore, there is no one event more important than the other. Since yesterday ended up blending itself all together, I have eliminated the need for any kind of chronological order. Okay, that being said, let's go.... I got to talk to a very good friend of mine yesterday. He recently went to Las Vegas to join friends in celebrating a milestone birthday of a close friend of his. It was a surprise party. We all know that these things usually do not work out. Someone always spoils it or the surprise-ee always figures it out. Apparently, neither of these things happened in this case. In fact, it went off like a charm. The birthday boy was completely surprised. Everyone had a great time. There were a lot of tears as this party included many people the birthday boy had not seen in years. Including my friend. It was truly a magical moment. A treasured moment. A moment that I may never have heard about. I almost missed out on a chance to hear about this incredible time. My friend almost didn't make it to the party. He almost died on the way to Vegas. He is VERY lucky to be alive. You have to know this friend of mine to understand why his near death experience is no surprise to me. He is a hard-working man. A blue-collar, union-member, NASCAR- loving, no-bullshit, kinda guy. When he gets an idea in his head, he goes with it and rarely deviates. He had it in his head that he was going to drive to Vegas when the traffic was light and the sun was down so he was going to leave late and get in there early. Well, this approach is okay if you can stay awake driving at night. I, myself, cannot. He says that he can. He thought he could. As he was cruising the highway at 80 miles per hour his body decided to show him that he, in fact, could not. He nodded. Just for a split second. When he looked up, he was headed off the road and into a guardrail. Something caused him to gently pull the steering wheel to the right allowing him to avoid the guardrail which would have meant instant death. He avoided the guardrail only to go right off of the road and continue forward through the desert landscape on the side of the highway. Hitting nothing, he was able to navigate back on to the highway and regain control of the car. So, between missing the guardrail and not hitting anything while off-roading in his Acura sports car I would say that he was touched by some super-natural power that determined it was not his time. This also happened to my very good friend Connie's son, Trevor. Trevor was not in a car rather, he was hit by one. He was riding his bike home from school when he was hit by a car. Something he probably does 5 days a week for the entire school year. Same route. Same everything. It just so happened that on that day, some young girl (that goes to his school) with a history of driving problems, decided not to pay close enough attention to what she was doing. She hit Trevor. Hard. On his way to the hospital, he wanted to make sure the driver knew that he was okay. I was offered a position as a part-time instructor for a nationally recognized Bartending Academy. That's right. No transition. I just put that out there. It was the third incident that happened and I did not know how to tie it in until after the other stories were told but I didn't know how to segue into it so I just said it. Get over it. Okay, what do these 3 things have in common? What great "secret of life" did I discover as a result of these three "occurrences?" Life is not a toy. It cannot be played with. Life is an object d'art in your Grandma's living room that looks like a toy. You try to play with it. Somehow, as soon as you touch it, a cosmic wave gets sent straight to the nearest adult's spine and they rush into the room to quickly slap you across the face and remove the object from your grasp. That is life. When we think things are okay, when we think we can just cruise along, when we have given up hope, it slaps us. Hard across the face. It makes us realize how precious it is. How important it is. How important we are. It shows us that when we look and don't touch, it will reward us with it's beauty. If we are selfish, and we try to play, it will remind us. It always does.

Awwww Hell no.... Tagged again.... Dammit....

Well, thanks to my dear friend Connie, I have been tagged once again. What do I mean by this? Why does this seem to cause me so much distress? It is the simple fact that I now have to come up with 7 things that you people probably don't know about me or were afraid to ask. The part that really gets to me though is that I am supposed tag 7 people. Not going to happen. You cannot make me and I will not do it. Some people may be okay with piling on unnecessary guilt to unsuspecting fat guys but this fat guy won't do it. I won't. Watch me. I will, however, participate in the seven details about me. I have done this once before so i am going to try to come up with new facts. If I repeat, I am sorry. If you figure out that I have repeated, you either are obsessed enough with me to have memorized the last list or you dug deep into my archives to find out.... Either way, please, seek help. Okay, here we go...



1) I perform Shakespeare and have been paid well for it. Yep. That's right. This fat guy actually has other talents besides his amazing writing and brilliant work in the sack.... Ok, that second part, not really true.... Well, I am not the worst.... I am quite sure of that.... Anyway.... I have done many shows over the last 15 years with the Southwest Shakespeare Company and played a wide variety of roles. I was most recently in "Much Ado About Nothing" in the Spring of '06. It was great. I have a thing for the language. I have a thing for the bawdiness. I love double entendre. I have always enjoyed the stage. Shakespeare just makes it that much better.

2) I have taught Desert Survival classes for Maricopa County Parks and Recreation. The evolution of how I got that gig is quite funny. In my early years of teaching, I got a summer teaching job doing Summer School for elementary school age kids. There were some remedial classes but for the most part there were fun classes. Gave the kids something to do during the summer. One of the classes I taught was Desert Survival. It was fascinating. The kids loved it. I loved it. One of the activities was to have a Park Ranger come in. On one of the Ranger visits, the ranger stayed and listened to some of my presentation. He asked if I would like to develop the curriculum for adults and teach some classes out at Usery Mountain park. I obliged. It was great.

3) When I was in 2nd Grade, I was dead sure that when I grew up, I was going to be an entomologist. Ok, first of all, what the Hell is that? Well, Mr/Ms Impatient Pants, I was getting to that... An entomologist is a scientist who studies bugs. I loved bugs, apparently. So much that I swore that I was going to study them my whole life. My folks even went so far as to get me my own professional dissecting kit so I could dissect bugs. Well, this was a patently bad idea as we soon found out when I was dissecting more toys than bugs and at least once or twice, the "probe" got stuck in a few compromising places.... Bad times..... Very bad times..... Needless to say, between the horrifying experiences with the "probe" and my lack of any type of interest in getting a science based degree, this dream eventually died.

4) My favorite actor of all time is Spencer Tracy. Hands down. Bar none. I should not have to explain or justify this. So, I won't.

5) I love to Downhill Ski. Now, dammit, get the image of the Sta-Puft Marshmallow Man careening down a mountain side at 250 mph. It's not like that. Really. I am pretty good. As long as I stay within my comfort zone and not try any Black Diamonds. For me, the fun of skiing is the feel of the breeze on your face as you glide down a spectacular landscape. The occasional spill or two is bearable when you are with friends and the chair lift always has something in store for you. When I think back to all of the good times I have had in my life, several of the top 20 are ski trips.

6) I could live on Apple Jacks and Cheddar Cheese Pringles. This is not a joke, people. These two creations are the two, single most important creations that exist on this little blue and green ball that is the third rock from the sun. If they were not around, I am quite sure that I would not be either.

7) I once canoed 50 miles down the Colorado River. I am an Eagle Scout. For those of you not familiar, that is the highest rank one can achieve in Boy Scouts. I was very fortunate that I was in an amazing Troop. Troop 288. The biggest bunch of trouble making, noise making, risk taking, illegal activity participating group of guys you would ever want to meet but they all had hearts. The men and the boys. We did so many things and I conquered so many fears it was incredible. I learned so much. I also got to do things that many people never will. Catch and release a rattlesnake. Hike for miles and camp the way God intended it. No luxuries. No comforts. I also got to canoe down the Colorado River. With my father. It was indescribable. The scenery. The camaraderie. Just incredible.

Ok. There you go. Feel like you know me better? Feel closer to me? Feel afraid of me? I think you should....I am messed up.....

"Some Enchanted Evening..."

So, do you remember the song mentioned in the title? If you have seen the musical "South Pacific," you have heard the song. The other times you may have heard it was any time in a movie/T.V. show/cartoon that two people noticed each other across a crowded room. This song would start slowly in the background as the eyes of the star-crossed lovers would meet. It would then crescendo and come to a climax as the couple met somewhere in the middle of the room. They would embrace with eyes locked in a pathetic stare. It could be the first time they met or a reunion, of sorts. Either way, you have seen the scenario played out many times and more often than not, "Some Enchanted Evening" is the background. Surprisingly, this blog is not about that song. It's not even about music in general. It's about that moment. That amazing moment when you lock eyes with someone across a room and suddenly, you are filled with a feeling that you just know feels right. Yes, I am about to get kind of sappy. Yes, I am going to spend some time touching my feminine side....Wait.... That did not come out right..... Never mind. You get the picture. Well, I hope you don't really have a picture of me touching my feminine side in your head.... That could be scary..... Moving on.... I had one of those moments last night. It was one where perhaps I was the only one that was so moved by that brief yet amazing moment. Honestly, whether the other person felt anything at the very same moment is of no real consequence. It would be amazing if they felt the same way but for the purpose of this blog, just the fact that I felt this pure rush of amazing yummy goodness is what counts. Reason? It has been a looooooonnnnnnnggggg time. Honestly, I cannot remember the last time that I experienced such exhilaration from a look. From a simple glance that lasted a couple of extra seconds. It has been forever if it has been ever. I just sat there after the moment had passed thinking to myself, "Wow! I just experienced one of those moments they talk about in romance novels!" For my male readership, I do have to say I am sorry for the preceding diatribe that made me sound like a weepy chick. For the ladies.... Yeah, that's right, baby, there is a single guy out here who is into the "special" moments and he is looking for you....Well, I gotta tell ya, this past weekend was full of moments in which I experienced feelings that have been long absent from this old, fat guy's arsenal of emotions. It was refreshing, amazing, exciting and did I say amazing? Amazing. Amazing. What else can I say?

One of those days......

You know, it just started out wrong. I am talking about the day. I mean, here it is, 10:12am and I already know that I am not going to like this day. Why? What is it about this day that has made it bad before it really has gotten a chance get totally started? Nothing. That's right. Nothing at all. No major emergencies. No crises that needed attention. No happenings that made things go south quickly. I guess it has just been one of those days that I "woke up on the wrong side of the bed." What the Hell does that mean anyway? There is only one side of my bed that I can wake up on. Well, there are actually four sides to any bed that you can wake up on. There is only one that I would want to wake up on with my bed. I guess that is where the saying came from. The idea that if you woke up on a side, other than the one you are accustomed to, or the one that is the best to wake up on with the given circumstances you may not be very happy. I know that if I woke up anywhere but where I fell asleep, I would be worried. I share my bed with no one on a regular basis. The cat sometimes joins me but his tenure there is spotty and based on his playfulness level. Too playful, he is gone. Reason? If he is too playful I will inevitably end up with two very sharp fangs being sunk deeply into the cheek of my ass. Not fun at 3am. Trust me. The only other person that may sometimes end up there is Vivian. These rare occasions are usually short-lived. She does not like the way I snore. So, waking up on the wrong side of the bed is really not an option for me. I have but one side to wake up on. I think it is the fact that my phone has rung several times this morning from numbers that I do not recognize. I am one of those people that does not usually answer if I am not familiar with the number. I wait for a message. None of the unrecognized, ignored calls this morning on my phone left messages. That annoys the piss out of me. If you are a salesman, give me the courtesy of telling me this so I can ignore your phone number in the future. If you are a bill collector, you have the wrong number. If you are someone I know, leave a freaking message. How hard is that? I am not great at retuning calls but I do try.... This random number cell phone calling coupled with the fact that I know I have a bunch of crap to catch up on today being my only day off this week has just put me in a sour mood. Yes, I am wearing one of those saggy diapers that leak. Is there any cure? Any way to change my diaper? I can think of a few things but I am not going to hold my breath until they happen. I may be holding it for a looooonnnngggg time. I do feel better. I feel as though just by saying how grumpy I am, I am not as grumpy. That's pretty cool. Ah, the power of words.

Oh dear Lord... Not another music blog.....

Yes. In fact I am going to dedicate an entire blog to the subject of music. Why, oh, why? As I said in my previous blog.... My blog, my rules. You have a problem with it? Well, express it in the comments part at the end. I truly believe that there are few people in my vast readership that really don't like or at least somewhat agree with what I say about music. I am usually very positive and I can generally hit a nerve or two with many of you when it comes to music. This blog is going to probably hit more nerves among the parenting set but I think it may hit all of us that have parents, are parents or want to be parents. On Saturday night, I had a very rare opportunity to spend some quality time with the angel I call Vivian. The quality time is not what is so rare but rather the Saturday night time. In the restaurant business, Saturdays are busy days. No matter what capacity I am fulfilling at my current place of employ, I am rarely off on Saturday. There were extenuating circumstances that required me to be off this Saturday, so I was. I am so thankful that I was. After spending the day riding our bikes around Mesa (going down "The Hill" between Stapley and Horne on McKellips, you know the one, and shouting "THAT WAS TOTALLY WICKED!!!" at the tops of our lungs at exactly the same time), we got home and relaxed for a bit until it was time to gorge ourselves on pasta, pizza and that cinnamon thing at Cici's pizza. After walking off dinner through the neighborhood it was bath time and then the all important wind down hour. Vivian chose to watch the Zoey 101 scary Halloween movie which I chose to ignore. She soon realized that it was a bit to scary for her tastes and her attention turned to what I was writing about. It happened to be about her and the song "Unwritten." This prompted me to play it a few times as we danced and sang in our usual manner when this song plays. She then wanted to hear other songs and none of them grabbed her attention as much as "L-O-V-E" by Nat King Cole. I am not sure what it was about this song but there I was, dancing away with her to it several times. Well, she wanted to crank things up a bit so she asked if "I Like to Move It" (the Madagascar version by Sascha Baron Cohen which is the superior version) was on my play list. Sadly, it was not. I soon remedied this and we shook our tail feathers until well after 10pm. Then it was time to wind down so we listened to "Butterfly Kisses" (on my other play list thanks to a very special friend) and "Love Without End, Amen." I cried. She wiped my tears and comforted me. As I was tucking her and Hunter (the cat) in, I thought about how important these moments are. Even more, how important the music that accompanied these moments was. Forever, from now on, she will attach these songs to memories of me. No matter what happens to me. No matter what happens in our relationship. These songs will always bring a good memory of me to her. How amazing is that to think? Forever. That is a mighty long time. I added two songs to my main play list tonight. One is an incomplete version of a song that brings a flood of tears to my eyes whenever I hear even part of it. That's why I am okay with it's incompleteness. It's "The Perfect Fan" by the Backstreet Boys. It reminds me of all of the wonderful things that my mother has done for me and reminds me that she will always be my number one fan. The other song is one by Louis Prima and Keely Smith. My father tells me the whole story of Louis and Keely every single time he hears one of their songs and I am near. I also get the story if he happens to hear about The Jungle Book from myself or Vivian because Louis was the voice of King Louie, the orangutan. These songs are precious to me because of my parents. The songs that are precious to Vivian, I hope, are because of me. Need any other reason to put a soundtrack to your life? Try it.

The Green Monster.....

Slow down, there, BoSox fans. I am not referring to the left field wall at Fenway. This will not be a blog about Big Papi or Manny. Although, with what's happening to my D'backs..... No! I will not go there. I promised myself I wouldn't. This is not going to be a discussion on baseball. It's about the other green monster. The one that has ruined relationships. Many of them before they even had a chance to begin. The green monster that is so pervasive, it is found in almost every home. The green monster that can start a war and keep it from ever ending. Jealousy, people. Plain and simple. Jealousy. Now I know what you are thinking. What could a single guy who is not in a relationship have to say about jealousy in a time when he should not be experiencing it? Funny you should ask. The answer is 2-fold. First, jealousy is not reserved for relationships. It creeps into every aspect of our lives whether we like it or not so if I want to write about it, I can. My blog, my rules. ( I am focusing on the relationship aspect of jealousy but that is neither here nor there) The second reason is that twice today the topic was brought up in conversations so I felt that was what I needed to talk about. The first conversation involved a young lady I work who I will call "Jen." Aw crap, sorry Jennifer. I used your real name....I'll move on. Jennifer was regaling a few of us male co-workers with a story involving her boyfriend and 3 other guys who were "checking her out." She thought that the guys checking her out were rude and that her boyfriend should have been upset by their brash attempts at stealing her away from her large and obviously "with her" boyfriend. Apparently, according to her he got upset, but did nothing to stop them. Now guys, we know better, right? He was not really upset, right? He just acted upset for her benefit. Deep inside, he was thinking what we all think when other dudes check out our hot ladies...."Yeah, that's right, she's with me! Sucker!" Seriously ladies, this is not what makes us jealous. My ex-wife tried one time to get some sort of reaction out of me by telling me that some stranger had randomly approached her in the parking lot of our local Fry's grocery store to tell her how beautiful she was. Was I supposed to get upset by this? Was I supposed to take it as a hint that I was not saying she was beautiful enough? I am not quite sure. Never will know. Don't care. To me, that is a game. I don't like those kind of games. I have always viewed myself as a relatively non-jealous type. I am proud of the girls that I am with at the time and would not find it necessary to get protective. They are with me. If they want someone else, good riddance. Nothing I can do. You can't stop the love, baby. So, when it comes to this kind of jealousy I think men and women have different views. They will always be different. Mars and Venus and all of that crap. The second conversation I had was with my good friend, I will call her "Wendy," crap I did it again, I am not very good at this, and we were chatting about jealousy vs. insecurity. Is there a difference? Does one cause the other? If you are insecure in yourself or your relationship, are you more likely to be jealous? Does jealousy lead to insecurity? As i am writing these questions I am starting to realize that we are going into a chicken/egg situation. You know what I mean. Which came first, the chicken or the egg? We will never know the answer to this question. Will we ever know the answer to the jealousy/insecurity question? I doubt it. What I do know is that insecurity is something that can be improved or removed. It just takes some work. More often than not, the kind of work it takes requires serious introspection and hard decisions. Sometimes, we are not willing to do these things but if we are going to defeat the Green Monster, we are going to have to.

Hmmmmm....Tastes like chicken.......

Okay, let's get our minds out of the gutter with the title, people. For those of you who are reading this because of the catchy and suggestive title, shame on you. You will be disappointed that this is not an R-rated blog. Those of you reading this because you truly enjoy reading this author's words no matter what the title is, thank you. Now, on to the subject. "So close you can almost taste it." A simple line from a great song. I know that it is a saying that has been around for many years but it has gained a resurgence in popularity since the great song, "Unwritten." Yes, I know it is a "chick" song. Yes, I know that I am essentially emasculating myself by admitting that I listen to the song frequently enough to be inspired by one of it's lines but I will tell you this.... I listen because Vivian loves the song (I do too, but I am not going to admit it to you....crap, I just did......maybe they are just skimming and they missed it.....just go on....act naturally......). Vivian loves the fact that this song is on my play list. Whenever Daddy is writing the song almost always comes on. It does not matter where she is in the house, she comes running and we dance and sing the song like there was no tomorrow. That is why I know it so well. That's why the line about being able to taste something that is so close is the topic of this blog. Ever experienced this feeling? I am sure the saying got it's origins in the times when there were wide open spaces and folks would be cooking out all of the time. You would be on your way to said cookout and as you would approach, you could taste the food as it was being prepared even if you could not see the cooking taking place....The smell would waft through the air for miles... It would make you salivate. Your stomach would growl. You would greedily lick your lips. You could not wait until you got there. The trip could not take any longer. I think this happens literally and figuratively. Just like my blog about anticipation this one is about wanting something. Only this time instead of waiting for it, it's here and I can't have it. Like the pie that Grandma baked in the other blog....Only this time, you can't eat it. It's for company. It would be like the Spider-Man decoder ring arriving but you can't have it until your birthday. This is the "so close you can almost taste it" stuff I am talking about. I gotta tell ya, I have a great taste in my mouth right now. Too bad I am so close, yet so far. Close, apparently, only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades. So I have been told. I think it counts in my present situation, too. I am close, I can taste it, I am okay with that. At least I got to taste. Some folks never will. Sucks to be them!

Tears of a Clown....

For the most part, I find it easy to be funny. Those of you who know me well, know that even in the face of most serious situations, I am not above making a joke. Those of you who do not know me, except by what you read in my little online diary we call a blog, I think that you may be able to tell that I am a funny guy. With all of this in mind, I must now apologize for the tone of this blog. At the present time I am not happy. Normally, I can muddle my way through an unhappy moment. I can usually find strength in humor. Some call it a mask, I call it strength. Whichever way you look at it, in times of stress or anger, I can be pretty funny. I am not too sure about finding humor when I am experiencing anguish, though. I have rarely dealt with complete devastation. I know that I have dealt with it, but I don't remember if I was able to laugh about it at the time. What I do know is that right now I am devastated. Completely. I also know that I am not laughing. I cannot even comprehend laughter right now. So..... What has me devastated? You will not believe what I am about to say, but.... I can't tell you. This is not a joke. I am not smiling grimly, thinking about the times before that I have set you up only to make you fall. I truly cannot discuss the issue that has me weeping as I type this. As I have done before, I will try to share some of what it is without revealing too much. I was told a secret. I can assure you that this was not a school girl (Bobby likes you...No WAY!!!!.... Yes WAY!!!! He told me at recess!!!!!) kind of secret. It was not an "I am not wearing any underwear" kind of secret either. This one was big. The kind of secret that, after it sinks in, you think to yourself, "Now why the fuck did you tell me that?" I am sorry for the language, but remember, I am not happy. No, I did not learn that my buddy is fooling around on his girlfriend with her best friend. I could only wish it was that. No, I did not learn the season finale to Heroes (that's a popular show, right?). I learned that a very close fiend of mine is in serious trouble. The kind of trouble that you cannot get away from without a few scars. He already has too many scars. Trust me, he's got plenty. He does not need any more. No, it is not a legal issue. No, it is not a murder that I am covering up. No crimes were committed, with the exception of the few public disturbance calls that will be made when I am done writing and am outside screaming at the top of my lungs to make the pain go away. Truth be told, the secret is one that I never wanted to hear. I am glad I did because it helped him to tell SOMEONE. He has been unable to tell anyone else. He chose me. For that, I am honored. Also, for that reason, I am going to kick his ass. Tomorrow, there will be a part two to this secret. There is a slight chance that it will make things better. It will make the secret one that is not so bad to know. This is what I am hoping for. I hope that part two will be a good secret. I am praying for it. Please join me in this. Just tell God that you read my blog and I told you to pray for a friend of mine. He'll know what you are talking about. He's been briefed.

I hate bees...... I really do......

We all have fears. I am no exception. If you read the survey that is poSted on my MySpace profile, you will read that my two biggest fears are bees and relationships. The latter is, what I believe to be, pretty self-explanatory. Ther are a number of relationships in my past that I have screwed up and even more that have screwed me up so therefore, I prefer to stay away from them if at all possible. The former should be self-explanatory as well. The thing of it is, where did this bee fear come from? I guess it is normal for people who are allergic or have past experiences with stinging, flying insects to develop a natural fear but I have neither. That I know of. I have been told that I have been stung before but I don't recall. As long as I can remember, my reaction to bees has been one that resembles a little girl running and screaming from a big scary monster. I never thought that I waited around long enough to have an experience with one. Until today. I have little time to write today on this subject so I have no time for any set-up but here is the deal. I was in Maricopa, sorting through some dumped objects, bent over, in a pair of shorts that tend to give me a mad case of plumber-butt. In addition, I was going commando (which is not too uncommon). A bee found her way into said shorts and immediately began struggling to escape. Not knowing what had flown down my crack I immediately swatted in the general vicinity and landed right on top of the unsuspecting, panicked bee with my large hand. She did all she could to defend herself by inserting her stinger into a very private place. No, not the VERY private place. Close enough, though. I am hurting. It's still throbbing. I hate bees. I really do.

"Ooooo...Owww...Ouch... I hate when I do that...." - Willie

I love my blog titles. They are very often loaded with double meanings. Sometimes they are pretty straight-forward. If there is a double-meaning you can still enjoy the humor or the relation to the actual blog. Other times, they require some explanation. Like this blog's title. I am certain that many of you are wondering who the Hell Willie is and why I am quoting him. How is this quote from some strangely named person germane to one of this writer's amazing blogs? I shall reveal in good time. You will see how the title fits with what I am discussing tonight. I will need to explain who Willie is. He is a character that Billy Crystal used to do on Saturday Night Live. Am I dating myself by talking about Billy Crystal on Saturday Night Live? Oh well, screw it. This is not about Willie. It's about Billy. You still with me? I love Billy Crystal. I always have. He is great. The best thing about him in everything he does is his delivery. Certain lines. The way they are said. He has an everyman quality that you can just relate to. In the movie "When Harry Met Sally" he delivered a line that has stuck with me over the years. He was talking about something his ex-wife said. When he was describing what she said he said that it had one of those "cartoon balloons" around the words. Making the words just hang there. Giving them a physical presence. So, my point is, has this ever happened to you? Ever said something that you could almost see the words above you in a "cartoon balloon?" Now, have those words ever been so bad that you wanted nothing more than to take them back? You wanted to just reach up and tear the words up into a million tiny pieces. I have. Very recently. I said something that I wish a cartoon balloon was attached to. Something that I wanted to rip up and act like I never said. No cartoon bubble, though. See where I am going with this? See how the title fits? I knew you would. It was one of those moments that wished that there was a big remote control in the sky that would allow me to hit the rewind button. Well, I am pretty sure there is a remote control like that. Think about it. When someone is born, that means the Big Guy pressed play. When someone dies, He pressed stop. When someone does cocaine, he pressed fast forward. Well, not just then. The FF button is also for when we try to do too much in not enough time. I have essentially seen these three buttons at work. Rewind is a little tougher. We try to rewind all of the time. We recreate scenes. We re-live the past. We try to remember the way things were. This is not the rewind button at work though. I believe, no, I hope the rewind button works in a different way. I hope that if you and the person you said the thing that you wish you didn't to both reach up and hit that button with the Big Guy, that you can actually rewind and redo that very moment. Thereby, removing the words as though they never happened. I truly believe that you both have to do it at the same time though. If you said something to a bunch of people, you all have to do it together. Either way, it has to be those involved and Him in order for it to be done right. I have my hand on the button. I know He does. I just hope and pray that her hand will be there soon and we can push it and we can start over from that moment. So, what did I say that was so terrible? What could I have said that would make me so desperate to take it back? Yeah, right. I'm gonna tell you.... Y'all know me well enough to know that was coming, right? I will tell you what I am comfortable with sharing, though. What I asked this person to do was like asking a fish to live without water. Like asking a child to live without toys. Like asking Sonny to live without Cher......Wait, scratch that one....He's dead and she never liked him anyway......The first two, though, you wouldn't do, right? I suppose you could. You could take all of a kids toys away and say, "No more," save the occasional free toy in the cereal box or Happy Meal. Would the kid die? Probably not. He/she would adjust. Find a new way to entertain themselves. Kids are resourceful. More importantly, they are resilient. They would be okay. You still wouldn't do it, though. Would you? How about the fish and the water thing? That seems a little more extreme and a little more impossible to do, right? Wrong. If evolution has taught us anything, we now know that all living things can find a way. Life finds a way. Heard of a lungfish? It's a fish that lives in Africa, Asia and Australia. It can burrow down into the ground just before the dry season and go into a catatonic state, encased in mud and live. Live long enough to see the next rainy season. It can do this all through it's life cycle. So, yes there is a fish that can live without water. Just one kind, though. Obviously it's not the best way to live. That's why all other fish need water. It makes life easier for them. The point is, yes, people can change. They can evolve. They can adjust. They can deal. We will always be able to. What I did, though, was ask someone to do that when I had no right to. I asked her to adjust. Evolve. Move on. Deal. I did not want that. I do not want that. I cannot live with that. I will not live with that. I should have never asked. I want to rewind. Join me in praying that it will happen. Join me in hoping that she knows that I need to rewind so that I can say what I really meant. Join me in wishing that the button will work. I hope I have tied the title together with the story enough. I know that Willie was saying, "Ooooo, Ow, Ouch," about when he threw his legs up over his head and shaved the backs of them with a cheese grater and then squatted in a bowl of gin but we are both talking about pain. Serious pain. Pain that we hope will go away.

I knew it.....Dammit....I knew it......Oh....I'm over it....

You ever get the feeling that besides God, the Devil, the angels, the arch-angels and the demons that there is someone else up there that is in charge of messing up your days. For the purpose of this blog, I will call him Norman. Norman is not an angel. He does not have wings. He does not fly. He sits at a desk. He does not have a trumpet or a sword, he has a transistor radio and a pencil that is never sharp enough. He doesn't have horns but he does have horn-rimmed glasses. Norman is the day ruiner for Heaven, Hell and all stops in between. An other-worldly Comptroller, if you will. Norman does not like his position. He has never liked it. The problem is, no one will do it. The Heavenly representatives never want to do anything that could be construed as "not very nice." The Below-The-Earth contingency does not think that Norman's job is "bad" enough. So Norman is stuck. What is his purpose? What does the job-description read? Well, basically this.... If someone is having too many good days and too many good things happening, Norman needs to shake things up a bit. Send a bloody nose and a chafing problem to the fat guy. This way he can not only worry about his blood-pressure but he has to walk slowly and with a pronounced limp. See? Not enough to raise the eyebrows of the Satan-types but enough that the angels may feel kinda bad. Norman is the guy who sends the ants to the picnics. He opens the rain clouds on an important event that is non-religious and non-spiritual (i.e. weddings, sunrise services, funerals....these all fall under the God/Devil category). Norman gives you a cold sore the day before your first date with your dream woman/man or a big zit on your forehead the day of your Senior Prom. Got it? Harmless but hateful. Wrong but comical. Today, I hate Norman. I was cruising along....Got the cat.... Had a productive week.... Given some stuff to look VERY forward to.... And then Norman got a memo that I had too many good things going. The aforementioned fat guy with the bloody nose and chafing? Me. Also had a recently de-clawed cat spring a blood leak out of one of the sutures all over my shirt and the floor. This after he protested the shredded paper in the litter box (Doctor's orders!!!!) by crapping outside of the box, which is where? In my room. Yep. One of those days and I have Norman to thank. George Carlin once complained about people that always said "Have a nice day!" George believed that this was not right. Maybe he just had 63 nice days in a row and "By God, I am ready for a crappy day!!" Why doesn't anyone say that? "Have a crappy day!" Maybe if people did every now and then, Norman could take a little vacation. Get himself a Pina Colada and a shot of Tequila and get, the Hell, off my back! I am really making this sound worse than it was. It's all true, but what is also true is the fact that at the end of the day, my beautiful child and new feline friend (Hunter, by the way....I'll explain another time) posed for an awesome picture as they lay next to each other, ready for bed. It was touching. I was wiped clean of all of Norman's dirty work for that one, brief, shining moment. It was cool. Then I remembered that I am still excited about things to possibly come and that made me feel a lot better. All in all, Norman did his job. He ruined my streak of exceptional days. He will always get credit where credit is due. He'll just never get promoted. Thank God!

Virtue...smirtue....I hate waiting......

Hey, let me ask you a question. Yes, you. I gotta know. Have you ever known something or someone was coming to you and just couldn't wait? The thought of the arrival of the item or person consumed you so much that you could not eat, sleep or think straight. C'mon, you know you have felt this way. Let me try to help you remember or at least relate. Grandma. She visits once a year. She lives thousands of miles away and you only get to see her for the 2 weeks that she is here. Those two weeks are the most amazing, fun-filled, exciting times that your little 8 year old brain can possibly handle. She bakes you chocolate chip cookies. She bakes Apple Pies that are so good, you know you will never find their equal. She takes walks with you to the Thrifty Drug store to buy you ice cream cones (double chocolate malted crunch and butter pecan) even though her body is racked with Osteoporosis. She goes to your school and has lunch with you. She knits you an afghan of your school colors. You remember those times. If it wasn't your Grandma (as it was in my case if you have not figured it out yet) it was an aunt or uncle or cousin. You get the point. Now, think about the weeks prior to their arrival. You started to get excited. As the time wound down to a week, you could hardly contain yourself. Then you were down to mere days and you were literally bouncing off of the walls. The night before....you were totally incapable of sleeping. Even the Benadryl your mom spiked your milk with has no effect. You are wired. You are uncontrollable. But it is good. Eventually, your body craps out and you pass out. Only to wake up at the butt-crack of dawn ready and raring to get to the airport for the long-awaited reunion. Isn't that moment that you see them coming down the jet way worth everything? Even now, as you are reading this, aren't you feeling that all over again. I am. This is the kind of anticipation that I am talking about. Not convinced you know what I mean? Okay, try this. You go through ten boxes of Cocoa Krispies in just under two weeks so that you can collect enough box tops to send away for your very own Spider-Man decoder ring. After the nausea finally passes, you help mom address the envelope and walk it out to the mailbox knowing that in 6-8 weeks, you will finally be able to solve any mystery the world may throw at you. The first 4 weeks pass rather uneventfully. You have almost forgotten about it. Then Matt tells you he started collecting box tops and BAM!!! you remember that you have your ring coming soon. You rush home that day and check the mailbox. This ritual is repeated every day until the moment of truth arrives. You get your ring!!!! It does not matter that 3 hours from that moment, the ring will be put down and never touched again. What matters is that it was there. You waited. You did not die while waiting (as you thought you would 6 1/2 weeks ago). Now try to tell me you can't relate to that.... It's anticipation, man. Remember the saying Patience is a Virtue? Try telling that to an 8 year old waiting for Grandma or a 10 year old waiting for a decoder ring.... Or a 34 year old waiting for a special moment..... What am I waiting for? What has me so excited and worked up? I'm not telling. Ha ha. Suffice it to say, I cannot sleep.

"Musick has Charms to sooth a savage Breast..." - William Congreve

I realize that I spend a great deal of time and energy talking about music. Especially when you consider that I am not a musician. Well, not really. I played drums in Jr High and High School but that was just for getting the ladies.....Alright, no comments.... It was a joke. Anyway, yes, I do talk a great deal about music. As I have said before, there is a good reason for this. Music is such an integral part of my life. Whether it's Randy Travis belting out "He Walked on Water" that reminds me of my departed grandfather or the Barenaked Ladies singing "Pinch Me" that conjures up one of a very few good memories of my ex-wife and I. Dancing with Vivian in my arms just giggling and cooing as I spun them around, singing poorly. Music has a way of meaning so much. Not just particular songs. Any music. This is no more evident for me then when I am working. Many of you know I have been in the restaurant business for a great deal of time. In my latest position, I am in the kitchen quite often. Those of you familiar with the business know that the kitchen is a hard place to be. It is hot. Very hot. For a fat guy (like me), it can be unbearably hot. In addition to the heat, there is a great deal of pressure. Orders need to go out in a timely fashion, they need to be correct and more often than not, they need to be aesthetically pleasing. A lot of pressure. Most of the pressure falls on the shoulders of the "Wheel Man." This is the guy who co-ordinates everything. The timing, the precision and the aesthetics. He then must push the food out in the correct order. He also takes the complaints from the servers and floor managers and makes them right. So, the point of this is that I get to be that guy quite often. I have found that it is essential for me to have music to do this job correctly. Yes, I said that right. I need music to assist me in co-ordinating all of these things. I am one of those rare people who finds that tasks involving a great deal of concentration are actually performed better with a musical distraction. I am almost RainMan-like about it. Yeah... gotta have my music...Yeah... K-mart sucks.... Tonight, for instance, I was pushing out a party of 40 and right in the middle of it, with Meatloaf's "Paradise By The Dashboard Light" (which I had requested earlier, I am such a geek, thank you 98.7 the Peak) playing in the background, some HEATHEN pulled the plug on my music. I stopped. Dead in my tracks. I did not know what to do or say. I stopped what I was doing. I was not going to push out the remaining 20+ meals without my Meatloaf. Someone in the crowd, opposite of me, recognized this and quickly plugged the music back in. The rest of the food went out and all was well. Music has charms that can sooth the savage breast. Yes, it is breast not beast. This is one of the most frequently misquoted quotes. It is really breast. I think breast is appropo. Don't you? You know what? I had a lot more to write on this. I will continue many of these thoughts in another blog. In another time. Right now, a song has influenced me in another fashion. I just got through listening to "18th Floor Balcony" by Blue October. Heard it? Amazing. It takes me to a place that I am, frankly, not comfortable discussing with y'all. A very special place. A very happy place. A happy place indeed. I cannot continue. I am too emotional right now. It's a good thing though. It drives my point home, yet again. Music is amazing. It soothed my savage breast TWICE tonight. That is a feat not accomplished by mere mortals. Only music.

"I wuz wookin' pa nub in all da wong paces, wookin' pa nub..." -Buckwheat

So, there was a bulletin posted on my Myspace in the last couple of days. It was one of those surveys that we are all so very excited to participate in. Especially when someone tells us we have to or some extremity is going to fall off. I don't usually do them. I do like to read them, though. It's the voyeur in me. Oh, who am I kidding. We all like to read them for that very reason. Aren't we all voyeurs in one way or another? I digress. Don't keep letting me do that. Back on task. So I was reading the questions and answers on this one and as usual, I was answering them in my head as well. I suddenly stopped though. I could not believe how much this question stumped me. I know I have been asked this question a thousand times but I don't think I ever really answered it. I think I always had some canned answer that would appease the asker and we'd move on. As I sat alone, with no one to judge my answer, I actually thought about it. Guess you want to know what the question was, huh? "Do you believe in TRUE LOVE?" Now, I know what y'all are thinking. It's the same thing I thought at first.... Well, yeah....I believe in true love.....That's when the stumping happened. Do I really? Do I really believe in the fairy tale idea of true love? Do I really picture Wesley and Buttercup on that mountain top in Princess Bride when she pushes the Man in Black down the hill and as he is tumbling head over heels and yelling "AS YOU WIIIIIISH" she realizes it's Wesley and jumps after him? Is that real? Or am I like Miracle Max from the aforementioned movie who believes that a nice Mutton, Lettuce and Tomato sandwich is just as good as true love? Am I like Berowne from Love's Labor's Lost who spends his whole life chastising lovers and people in love only to find himself mesmerized by "among three, the worst of all....a whitely wanton with a....velvet brow, with two pitch balls stuck in her face....for eyes." Which is it? What category do I belong in. I have always said, yes. Plain and simple. It is possible. So, why am I single. Isn't 34 years enough time to wait for it? If it were the middle ages, I would be an old man. Life expectancy back then was about 30, so if I did not have "true love" by this point, I would be S.O.L. Of course, they also had no sewers below the ground back then. They were all above ground and ran right through the middle of town. That might explain the short lives.....Digressing again...... Back to me being single. I wondered, am I single because I have not found true love or do I know my true love but I am just not with them? Deep, huh? Wanna go deeper (Oooooo that did not sound good....)? Wanna delve deeper into it than that (that sounds better)? Is your "soul mate" the same as your "true love?" Is the person with whom your soul is intertwined so deeply with that you will be together on the other side the same person you are destined to be with on this side? Is it? C'mon Mr/Miss Know -It - All.... Tell me. I really need to know. It's kind of important. This is where I went when I read the question. Are you there with me? Do you remember in The Princess Bride when Wesley could not die because he had true love? He was only "mostly dead." Remember how Buttercup was going to kill herself when she thought that Wesley was dead? Hang on....That just might be it.... We have all heard the stories of the couples who have been together for so many years that when one of them died, the other went in a matter of a few months. Not wanting to live without their true love. They just gave up. They died of a broken heart. This happens with couples who have not been together for that long. I know this. It happened in my family. Some non-believers said that there were explainable medical reasons why she died so soon after her husband but if you ask her brother, she died of a broken heart. Plain and simple. We miss you Michelle. I think that's it. I think I have the answer. I do believe in true love. I believe it is the love between two people that exists as long as the two people are here on earth. Doesn't matter if they are together all of the time. It just matters that they are here. On this big green floating ball in the sky. The thought of them not being here ever again is too much for the other to live with. They cannot continue on. Shakespeare wrote a whole play about this kind of love. You know which one? Remember the "star-crossed lovers?" Romeo and Juliet. Romeo says to himself, "...see how she leans her cheek upon her hand? Oh, that I were a glove on that hand that I might touch that cheek..." That is love, folks. Deep love. Do you have it?

"I don't care if he's Bohemian, it's still the Damn Cat!" -Don Jones

Well, it's done. The cat was taken to the vet today to get neutered and de-clawed. Just the front claws. It is a male cat. He weighs 6.5 lbs and is approx. 6 1/2 months. Now I know that some of you may be saying..."Back the heck up.... Cat??!!! Brad Jones with a cat?" I know. Sounds weird. Some of you may remember that I had a cat for a short period of time when I was nineteen and first on my own. Remember Abe? The deaf cat? Man, he was a trip. He was the cat that was hurled across the room one very drunken evening. He was okay. Wouldn't talk to me for a week, but he did land on his feet...... Those were different times. I had a lot of anger inside of me back then and the six 33oz mugs of Coors Light and 4 shots of Goldschlager did not help with the anger. There is no anger now. Really.... Not too much anyway. There is no alcohol this time at all. I think I am ready. In fact, I know I am. I have to be. This cat was a gift. Uh oh, here he goes again....That's right folks. I am about to shock you with a little more spirituality. This cat was a gift from my higher power (I am choosing to go with higher power as opposed to God so as not to put some of you into complete cardiac arrest but I know it was God). We have all experienced the odd stray cat that seeks out attention as we walk through our neighborhoods. They usually stay around for a pat on the back and a rub against the leg but then they are off. Satisfied that they have done their job. Done what they are paid to do. Amuse the human. This cat was different. He stayed with me through the rain, another cat and a quarter mile of walking. When he got to the house, he walked in as though he owned the place, plopped down and has not left since. So what makes me think that this is a gift from Him? I just know. You have to take my word for it. I guess I could expound a little..... There have been several times in my life that I have struggled with the existence of a higher power. Many times I have found myself wondering why He has forsaken me. For reasons I am not going to mention, I was at one of those places recently. Not too long after I find myself asking for some sort of proof or some kind of sign, here comes this cat. To me. I fell in love instantly. I find myself missing him right now as I type. Attacking my feet or curling up behind me on this computer chair. This emotion after just a few days. You gonna tell me that is not a sign? Vivian is not with me all of the time. When she is not with me, I feel like a part of me is missing.... This cat has helped, in just a few short days, to fill that void. Not completely. That will never happen. He sure makes it easier. I know this is a sign because I am constantly reminded of the story about God and his love in the story of the Footprints in the Sand. You all know it. The man who dreams that he has died and is walking along the beach with Jesus. Watching scenes of his life passing by he notices there are two sets of Footprints in the Sand. Except, during the hard times, he sees only one set. He asks Jesus, "Why is there only one set of footprints at some points? They seem to be at the points in my life when things were at their worst. Why did You abandon me then? Did you not say that if I loved You and believed in You that You would always be there for me?" Jesus simply replied, "My son, that is when I carried you." Gives me chills just writing it. My twist to the story will be this though.... When it's my turn to walk along that beach with Jesus, I will look at the footprints and see three sets from this point on. Me, Jesus and the Damn Cat. When there are 2 sets, I know it will be the cat and Jesus. I hope he's been working out, though....

"Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends" John 15:13

What is this????? The celebrated agnostic using a biblical quote as his title? Hang on a second, I never said I was agnostic. Much like Spencer Tracy in Inherit the Wind, I am a firm believer that religion and agnosticism can peacefully coexist. I know....How? Never mind, this is not about religion. It is not about agnostics or even about me. It is about friends. The quote is from the Bible but it was made very famous by Rudyard Kipling in his popular book, The Jungle Book. Bagheera the panther tells Mowgli this very quote as Baloo lays there, dead. Killed while protecting Mowgli. Well, we know that Baloo is not dead. It does not change the sentiment, though. Is there a love greater than the willingness to lay down your life for a freind? Think abot this for a minute. I mean it!!!! Think about it. There is a gunman standing in front of you and he IS going to kill you or your friend. Do you say, "Kill me. I am single and have no one. He is married with kids and a huge family. He deserves to live. Take me." Or the other way, " Kill me. He is single. He has never had the pleasure of being a parent. He has never experienced the love of a wife. Let him live so that he may see how great these things are. I have them. I will miss them but I had my turn." Would you do one of these? Would you lay down your life for a friend? I guess we need to define what a friend is. For some of you. For me, a friend is anyone that is in my life that is not related to me. It is a given that I would lay down my life for anyone that I am related to. If you know me, you know that is hard for me to say but that it is true. If you know me at all, you also know that I am serious about my definition of friend. ANYONE that is in my life. Yes, there are some friends that mean a great deal more to me than others. Yes, there are those that I keep closer than many others. That does not take away the importance of another person's life to me. Yes, I value my life. Yes, being killed would seriously put a damper on my dreams of watching Vivian graduate from college. I think it may even strain my relationship with my parents if I up and died. The truth is though, they could all always remember that I died for something I believed in. I died so that a friend could live. According to the Bible, that is the greatest kind of love there is. The Bible, people!!!! Do you need a higher authority? I think not. There are those that might say to me, "What if your friends don't feel the same about you?" What kind of question is that? What difference does it make? How they feel about me is not what I will be thinking about in a life or death situation. I will only be thinking of all of the things they did to make my life better in one way or another. Maybe it was a smile everytime they saw me. Maybe it was the memories of certain events or times that we shared. Maybe it was the secrets we kept together that they never told anyone about. Maybe it was their love of their children that tought me how to love. Maybe it was the way their eyes would almost see right through me every time I looked into them. Maybe it was the support they showed when everyone else said I shouldn't do something. Maybe it was the fact that they were there for me when I needed a shoulder. The list of things that my friends have done for me is endless. In a life or death situation, this is what I would be thinking. I would not be concerning myself with what they are thinking. I would merely be thinking of what they mean to me. That's everything. My friends mean everything to me. So, to my friends, Lean on Me, when you're not strong. You can always Stand By Me, because That's What Friends Are For. I hope you all know, You've Got a Friend in Me. Always. Thank you, all.

A lond day's journey....oh never mind...

I want you to take a journey with me. This is a journey that will take you back a few years. I am taking you with me for two reasons. Number one, I am truly interested in what others feel about the trip. I want to know how you feel. The second reason is so that I can cleanse or at least sort out some of these random thoughts and feelings that are exploding in my head. This is not a social experiment. I am not really searching for any kind of data. No hard numbers....Heh heh.. I said hard.... Dammit. Where did that come from? I am trying to be serious here!! Heh heh.... I said come....Moving on.... This is just a journey that I am choosing not to take alone in a proverbial sense. I want you to come with me? Wanna join? Let's go.... Back in time..... You are now in High School, Junior High, Middle School, or, for you early bloomers, Elementary School. I want you to project yourself to the exact year that you first kissed a member of the opposite sex in a manner that was both welcomed and enjoyed by both parties. Ladies, you know why I say it like that because of the boys who would force themselves on you at the roller rink when you were skating backwards and their friends were watching. Guys, you know I say it that way because of all of those cramped nervous times you were forced into a closet for "seven minutes in heaven" when you just wanted to tp someone's house. I am not talking about those scenarios. Or any other where both parties were not totally "into" it. I am talking about your all important first kiss. The one you thought about every day. The one you practiced on your pillow for. The one you knew would come, you just never knew when. Think about that one. Think about the day it happened. What grade you were in? Who it was with? What were you wearing? What were they wearing? Was it before/after/during school? On a weekend? Were you totally nervous or did you remain calm? Did you shake? Are you shaking now? I am. Literally trembling. Just thinking about it makes me shake like a leaf on a tree. I don't want a ton of responses that answer all of the above questions. Just want to see if you are shaking too. What is it that makes the first kiss such an amazing event in our lives? Did you feel the same when you lost your innocence? I say it like this because I think there is a difference between "innocence" and "virginity." Stay with me. I remember the first boobie I touched. Not brushed pass accidentally on purpose. Not grabbed in a wrestling match for a note that was note supposed to be read by a boy. I mean permission granted touching. Same goes for other naughty bits. This kind of playing is what I consider loss of innocence. Virginity is pretty self-explanatory. Do you shake when you think of either of these? Better yet, do you shake as much? I am still shaking simply because I am still excited about the kiss. The other things seemed less important to me. They were great, do not get me wrong. I was excited. I enjoyed them trememdously but I am not shaking because of them at this very minute. Nope. It was the kiss. Where does that feeling go? The feeling that causes you to shake. Did you get it when you met the person you are currently with be it wife, husband, boyfriend, girlfriend, friend with benefits, lover, mistress, mist....hey, what is the male equivalent to mistress? Never mind. You understand what I am asking. Honestly, truly and with fear of retribution if you are lying, did you feel the exact same way when you first kissed the one you are with? Did you ever get that feeling again? At any point in your life. I have. I mean it!!! There was one person that made me feel that very same way when our lips met. The thought of that kiss is making me shake all over again. Just as much as when I think about the first kiss. I hope that some day, I can feel it again. I can tell you this much, I will not waste my time with another person of the fairer sex if I don't get that feeling on the first kiss. I have to have it. Will I be waiting a long time? I am prepared to. I have to. It is only then that I will know that it is right. Okay, journey is over. Back to reality. Hope I was a good guide. Thank you for humoring me. I need it every now and then.

I dig old movies....

There was a movie that came out in 1955 called Love is a Many Splendored Thing. Great movie. Alas, this blog is not about the movie. It is about the title. This blog is going to be about a few movie titles and what they mean to me. Before I go off on one of my tangents, let's discuss this first one. This concept of love being a many splendored thing. The dictionary has splendor as "brilliant, full of light and brightness.... yadda yadda..." Speaking of dictionaries, did you know that the word spleen can also mean "malice or full of avarice?" I had no idea. So, instead of saying that someone did something out of meanness, we can say they did it out of spleenness? You are a spleenful person? That was really spleen? Wow, I am totally going to start using that stuff.....Oh sorry..... Where was I? Oh yeah, splendored. So, according to this movie/song title, love is brilliant. Love is full of brightness and light. You know, I had something really cynical and quite pathetic to say but I just changed my mind. I was just about to go off on how dark and dull love is. How difficult it is to deal with and how empty it leaves you. I really was. I just changed my mind as I was typing. "What a Good Boy" by the Barenaked Ladies just came on. If you have read any of my MySpace blogs, you know that I love this song. It is an amazing song that sends chills down my spine and causes me to gush tears every time I hear it. It came on just as I was getting ready to spew forth disdain for the one emotion that is now filling me with Brightness. Brilliance. Yeah, love can hurt. So does falling down. It's part of life. You learn to move on when love dies. Just like we learn to move on when someone or something close to us dies. What fills love with it's splendor is the fact that you know when you have it. It's the greatest feeling in the world. I find myself almost speechless at this very moment. I know, hard to believe. I mean it. I do not know what else to say about love. Only that I have had it. I have it. I will always have it. Next movie title. I would be remiss in any discussion of movie titles if I did not mention Inherit the Wind. Not only is this a great movie title, it is my all-time favorite movie. The title actually comes from the Bible. "He that troubleth his own house, shall inherit the wind." Proverbs 11:29. It has always blown me away how a movie that is wrought with individuality, agnosticism, evolutionary principles would have a biblical quote for it's title. That, my friends is the genius. One of the things I loved about the movie so much is the fact that it preached (no pun intended) the need for everyone on both sides of the issues to learn to come together. The famous last scene with Spencer Tracy standing in the courtroom, Bible in one hand, Origin of Species in the other. Slams them together, tucks them under his arm and walks out the door alone. Symbolism. Irony. That is what makes the title so damn good. Symbolism. Irony. Speaking of irony, remember that Alanis Morrisette song "Ironic?" There is a line in there that I am thinking about right now..... Never mind. Inside thought. Went back to that whole love thing. I can't seem to shake it. I have never been that moved by an emotion while writing before. It has really messed me up. In a good way...I honestly don't think I can go on. I need a good cry. Well, not really. That did not sound very manly. What I meant was, I need to go hit something. Something soft. Not an angry hit. Not at all. There is no anger in me right now. Only Love.

As I was on my way to Vivian's open house this evening, a truck passed me on the freeway at a high rate of speed. Now, when I say a truck, I do not mean a Ford Ranger or some other light truck. I am not even referring to something larger like a Chevy Silverado..... I am referring to what Vivian calls a "monster truck." I grew up knowing a monster truck to be Bigfoot or something of the like. What passed me on the freeway was not Bigfoot or even really close to be honest, but it was big. The tires were about as tall as I am. This truck did not just have a lift kit, it had it's own FAA number. As this truck passed me, the first words out of my mouth were, "Well, he is obviously compensating for a small penis." We all think that don't we? Am I alone in this? I think not. We all assume that the drivers of these vehicles feel like they need to make up for SOMETHING so we automatically go to the penis since it is an extension of manliness...Right? It is, right? That's what I have heard and I always assumed that is why some people accused me of being gay.....Joking....Really.....I am all man, dammit. Back to the topic. This truck had no sooner passed me that I noticed his license plate. It was a personalized plate (go figure) but I was shocked and very amused when I saw what it said.... COMPNS8. That's right folks. It was the word "compensate" in license plate short form. How freaking funny is that? Here is a guy (or girl but probably a guy since the driver was a guy) who is so self-aware that he put on his plate what he knows we are all thinking when we see that behemoth of a truck. I laughed my ass off for the next mile or two and it got me to thinking.... What happened to the art of self-deprecation? Putting ourselves down before others can do it. I am not talking about lowering our self -images by pointing out our faults. I am talking about pointing out the obvious problems with ourselves that we are fully aware of and have no intention of changing. Jack Benny was a master at this. He portrayed a cheapskate. It is well known that in real life he was not but on his TV show he was a staunch cheapskate and damn proud of it. Who can forget the classic scene where he was approached by a mugger and told "You're money of your life!!!!" and there was this long pause.....The mugger repeated himself, "You're money or your...." and he was interrupted by Jack Benny who yelled, "I'm thinking!!!!!" Classic example of self deprecation. Think abou the stand-up comedians, John Pinnette or Ralphie May. These guys are on the hefty side. Okay, they are massive. They both spend most of their routines talking about their enormous girth and yet I have heard people say they don't like these guys because all they talk about is being fat. EXCUSE ME????? What would you like these very funny men to discuss? Yeast infections and the annoying itch that accompanies them? How ridiculously stupid have we become as a society? It is no longer okay to talk about our own problems in a humorous manner? I know why.... We might offend someone. There might be a fat guy in the audience who takes personal offense to John Pinnette bitching about his chafing problems. We are too sensitive!!!! Way too sensitive. We spend so much time worrying about what might offend someone that we have forgotten to take a step back and just enjoy the show. Am I encouraging people to go out and make fun of fat people? No. Do I think it's okay to berate ugly people because they are ugly? Not at all. What we need is for the fat people to accept that they are fat and unless they are going to do something about it, they need to lighten up. I am saying that ugly people need to grow a pair and poke fun at the fact that they are ugly before some 5 year old walks by and starts crying when they look at their face. It happens. We are all different. We all have our short-comings..... Speaking of short-comings, back to the guy in the truck. My hat is off to you Mr. Small Penis-Big Truck guy. You are a Real American Hero in my book. Have a BudLight on me.......