Happy Birthday To Me - Redux!
Current mood: contemplative

Well, let's try this again...

Exactly a week ago, I turned 30.  I'm not big on celebrations, holidays, etc. but I figure that's supposed to be some sort of small landmark in one's life.  I lazily slept in as late as I possibly could, then finally convinced myself that I should get up and do SOMETHING; no matter how mundane.  I broke the seal on a bottle of Scotch I'd been saving and proceeded to get myself into a funk of sorts.  I got all inspired and "penned" this humongous, philosophical blog.  True to form, MySpace fucking ate it!  Gone into the ether.  To fucking oblivion and beyond.  I was a bit peeved, to say the least.  You just can't recreate stuff like that, in the moment and all; but I thought maybe I'd try to give the Cliff's Notes Version:

Friday the 13th, a full moon, my 30th year of life on this Godforsaken planet - you get the lead in.  Open with the usual queries:  Who am I?  How did I get here?  Why am I here?  Where am I going?  Why can't I see?!  Where are my pants?!?

A finger or two later...What have I done with the past 30 years?  What do I want to be when I grow up?  You have to get older, but do you ever really have to grow up?  Why IS it 50 degrees in mid-January?! 

Half a bottle and a nap later...How did I get from Honor Roll student, Valedictorian, Eagle Scout (READ:  Ultra-Geek) to model prisoner?  How did Head Park Ranger and EMT Intermediate become Snowmaker I?  How did I lose my hippie, NIN loving, President of The Society of Women Engineers wife to Jesus and the Baptists?

Bottle's a little light - no ice or water necessary.  I can see the bottom - still no answers.  Still no Jesus.  Better open another...Do I deserve another 60 years to try and get this "right?"  Or even another 30, for that matter?  What AM I supposed to be doing here?!

So here we are, one week later.  Still contemplating.  After a week on the quest for the truth in life, I can't decide which hurts more:  my head, my liver, or my wallet.  It's like the song, "Existential Blues:"

"I've been up and down this winding yellow road for quite some time, and I've come to find the only truth in life is right here in this bottle."

"But, Wizard..."

"No, it's true son.  In fact, I'd rather have this bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy."

"How profound, Wizard!"

I even had a near-death experience this week:  With all the rain and warm weather, the snow is disappearing from the slopes despite our best efforts.  I'm cruising along on my snowmobile, headed back to the ranch at the end of the day.  Suddenly the Earth opens up right in front of me and swallows the front end of my sled.  I didn't even realize I had come off it until I was laying on my back, trying to catch my breath; my headlamp shining up into the trees above me.  I tried to stand up and immediately fell over.  I radioed for help.  My buddy, who had just barely missed it himself, comes back for me.  He's surprised to see me sitting up, breathing on my own.  We find my helmet which had come off when I landed - toast.  We walk back uphill a couple hundred yards to the Hellmouth.  The snowmobile is still running, standing on its nose in a 3-4 foot deep sinkhole of muddy water.  We lift it out and tow it down with a chain - no steering.  It seems that I ripped the steering column out with my legs and groin when I became airborne.  No wonder I was finding it hard to walk.  Still alive but bruised, bloody, and a little battered - I drove home.  Got up the next morning, quite sore; went back to work.  Fall off the horse, get right back on...

So what did I learn this week?  The road of life is long, winding, and dangerous.  If you're in the right place at the right time, it's a smooth ride.  Sometimes, you're not.  You might hit a couple of potholes here and there, or a cavern might open up and try to eat you.  You just never know.  Some things you can control and lots of things you can't.  So enjoy the ride while it lasts, ALL of it; 'cause you never know when it's gonna end.

Or something like that...

Currently listening : Cure for Pain By Morphine Release date: 14 September, 1993

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For Those Of You Who Don't Read Bulletins; It's BLOG!
Current mood: Festive!

Happy (insert denominational holiday celebration of your choice here) to all of my "FRIENDS!"

This is MY first Christmas alone in a very long time; and I must say that I'm quite enjoying the peace and quiet! No kids, no relatives, no in-law induced Midnight Mass... The dogs are all snuggled up on their bed; the cat is asleep on the back of the couch with visions of catnip mice in his head; and the Southern Comfort spiked eggnog is tiding me over nicely, as my baked hamsteak dinner is roasting in the oven. Prairie Home Companion's Christmas Special is on Public Radio and Frosty's on the TV. If it wasn't RAINING (in Vermont of all places!); I'd say this was the perfect Christmas - except not being able to share it with those of you "in-the-flesh-friends" that I have some semblance of a holiday tradition with.

Oh well; maybe next year the Probation Officer will give me a travel pass for Christmas!

Have a good...whatever & safe travels.

P.S. Don't forget to pick up the sex toys before Santa comes down the chimney - a bit embarassing, I'll tell you!

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Swampass
Current mood: tired

Yeah, that's right, you know what I'm talking about - SWAMPASS.  I've got it and MAN does it itch!  You see, in my neverending quest towards deity-hood; I have been learning to control the weather.  It's true:  I can make it snow!  Well, not all the time, but I'm working on it dammit.  So I'm spending my winter as a snowmaker at Stratton Mountain Ski Resort - the fuckin' Disneyland of Vermont, I swear to God!  It's rather annoying, but it does pay the bills.  I get paid to ride a snowmobile/ATV/SnoCat up and down the mountain 12 hours a day, 4 days a week; turning on/off water hydrants and moving "snow guns" around so that rich folk can enjoy their Vermont vacation.  As one might imagine, getting blasted by high pressure air and water in winter temps could be a bit chilly.  So you dress like the Stay-Puf Marshmallow Man and try to stay dry.  With so many layers on, the slightest bit of movement makes you sweatier than George W. at an IQ Test.  Hence the swampass.  Thank goodness for Gold Bond Medicated Powder (...cue cheesy theme music and show before/after rash pictures, followed by someone with a huge grin, sighing "AHHHH").  Oh yeah, and Guinness.  My goodness, my Guinness!

And so it goes.  Tomorrow is another day...

6:11 PM - 1 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Baby Got Back...
Current mood: aggravated

"Oh my God, Becky look at her butt..."

Yes, that's right - Sir Mixalot is back ya'll! Anybody else sick of seeing those annoying fucking commercials for customized ring-tones and cutesy "wallpaper" for your cellphone? I don't have one, but maybe someone who does could help me out here. Most people that I know with one already bitch that they cost too much for shitty service. They're charged extra for roaming, overages, etc. There's spotty reception. And it's already annoying enough when you're, say at the movies or in the courthouse and somebody's fucking cell phone rings with Beethoven's 9th or Jingle Bells (Hint: Christmas is WAY over you stupid fuck!) Why pay extra money for the extra annoyance?

My favorite, next to the Dancing Hamster of course, is Sir Mixalot. I'm sorry, but doing custom ring tones using your one-hit-wonder song from 15 years ago does not qualify you as being "back" in my book. How about a VH1 "Where Are They Now" for this nimrod - "Uh, yeah - so I got that going for me and uh..." "What else is going on for the new, hot, fresh Sir Mixalot?" "Nothin' really, still using that same song. They did ask me to do a Muzak version for the easy listening/dentist office station, but my agent's still hammering out the details."

Is it any wonder, with people dying of dehydration and dysentery from the tsunami, with a gallon of purified water costing less than a dollar; that others in the world think we are a nation of selfish, spoiled, egotistical people with money to throw away on anything other than helping a poor, "pagan" nation? Any reason why someone would want to do "US" harm?!

Currently listening : America Must Be Destroyed By Gwar Release date: 14 July, 1998

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Beauty is only skin deep, but(t) ugly's to the bone...
Current mood: savage

Today I noticed-well, I've noticed it before and I guess I was just reminded today-that Vermont is home to the most unhumanly possible butt ugly people I have ever seen. Now I'm no CoverGirl myself, I'll admit it; but you could definitely suffer severe psychological distress, not to mention permanent retinal damage through encounters with some of the the backwoods banjo-playin' folk around here.

So I'm on my way to work this morning in the "Northeast Kingdom," a region consisting of Vermont's poorest and most rural three counties. It's snowing pretty hard and the roads are crappy; there's a line of traffic a mile long behind the plow truck topping 25 mph at best. I'm developing a little road rage to say the least, pulling the filters off my breakfast and slurping down coffee; passing an eternity of frustration on what is usually a half hour ride. There's a car up ahead on the left side of the road with its blinkers on. As I inch closer, I see that it has slid off the road and this poor old lady is trying to shovel it out. And not one of the assholes in front of me is stopping to help. I should have known better, but I get the guilty conscience. I think: I'm already running late and it's not like I'm on a real schedule anyway, so I might as well stop. Maybe it'll give the traffic a chance to clear out a little. So I go to the next road and turn around. I pulled up just ahead of her and put my blinkers on. I walked back.

"Need some help," I asked slowly approaching, so as not to startle her. But the joke was on me. "Oh yes, thank you. Bless your heart for stopping." The words were pretty enough, but when she peered out from behind the beat up old station wagon, she scared the shit out of me. Literally, I almost shat myself right then and there. I felt so embarrassed, I think I actually cringed when I saw her. She had a long, tangled mass of hair and a true Vermont smile - all but about 3 teeth were missing. "Ahh was just on mah way down ta thuh stower theah and mah window was wicked fogged up and Ahh guess Ahh just came around thuh cornuh a might bit too fast. She's stuck, b'gory." (For those of you who don't speak Vermonter, "b'gory" is the northwoods hillbilly equivalent of "I reckon.") "Yup," was all I could muster in a response.

"I've got a chain in my truck, let's see if I can pull you out." I went back to the truck, got the chain, hooked it to the frame under the front of her car, and the other end to my tow hitch. "Now, put it in low gear and when I pull, you give it just a little gas OK," I instructed. "Yup," she replied. I gave her a second to get situated and then put my truck in four wheel drive. I slowly creeped forward. I could hear her tires spinning as she slammed on the accelerator. "Easy," I yelled out my window, more for my benefit since I'm sure she couldn't hear me. A couple more tugs and she was free, then BAM! - my truck jerked. She was still trying to go forward when I stopped and she ran into my trailer hitch.

I got out, wanting to scream at her "I told you to go easy!" Instead, "Are you OK," came out of my mouth, as she got out. "I'm so sorry," she said, almost starting to cry. "No, it's OK. Your bumper's a little dinged, though." "Oh, you can't hurt this old thing. Thank you so much, can I pay you," she asked, going back to her car for what I could only assume was her Social Security, welfare, or pension check for the month. "No really it's OK. I've gotta get to work." I just wanted to get out of there. "You're so sweet. You should come by and let me cook you dinner sometime, I just live right up the-" I cut her off short.

"Thank you, really. I should go - I'm late," I said inching back to the safety of my truck. I wasn't quick enough, though. She caught hold of my coat sleeve and pulled me into her giant, sagging bosom. Oh God, she reeked of something that had urinated on itself and died long ago - that and peanut butter, oddly enough. I choked back a gag. I think she may have tried to kiss me on the cheek too, but my hood got in the way. I wriggled away. "Take care and drive safe now OK," I said at almost a full sprint back to the truck.

The strange thing is that I just caught that old Twilight Zone episode last night/early this morning - "Beauty Is In The Eye Of The Beholder." Where this lady has plastic surgery so that she will fit in with the rest of society and you don't see her face until the very end when they unwrap it and all the doctors and nurses shriek in terror at how repulsive she is. And she is actually quite beautiful, but then you see the others' faces which you also haven't seen the whole episode and they're all deformed and piglike. Weird, huh?

It all reminded me of some snippet I heard/read somewhere about Sir Winston Churchill at a social gathering. Some prim and proper old English maid says: "Why, Sir Churchill you are drunk." To which he replies: "Indeed I am and you are ugly. But by the morrow I shall be sober..."

Currently listening : Yeah, It's That Easy By G. Love & Special Sauce Release date: 28 October, 1997

5:15 PM - 2 Comments - 1 Kudos - Add Comment

Ahhh, the humanity...
Current mood: tired

Conspiracy Theory .378: The Government is taking away the things we find enjoyable. Why? To keep us unhappy, agitated, on edge. "The Terrorists" are still on the loose after all. Proof?

Yesterday, I tried to buy a pack of non-filters for breakfast at the gas station. "American Spirit non-filters," I said to the clerk, sipping my coffee and trying to wake up. It was the first time in weeks that I was up before 7am - aside from still being up from the night before. "I don't see them - we have the filtered," she replied. "I think they're in the brown pack - or yellow, I'm not sure." "Nope." "Okay, Camel non-filters," going for the old standby. "Ummm, no." "Pall Mall?" Dad's old favorite. "Nope." I stared at the tobacco rack. I spotted the original, super-cool, John Wayne cigarette. "Lucky Strikes," I pointed to the end like an excited toddler. She came over. "These are all filtered, too." "C'mon, you're joking right? Filtered Lucky Strikes?!" I looked and she wasn't joking. What the fuck?

The geriatric manager looks over from stocking. "We can't get non-filtered cigarettes anymore. Some local ordinance," he says, shrugging his shoulders. "What? But you can still sell loose tobacco and papers, right," I exclaimed, pointing to the other end of the display. "Yup, go figure - that's the government for you, trying to keep us consumers safe I guess," he laughs. "Give me a pack of Camel Wides, I'll rip the filters off myself - I'll show them dammit!" We all laughed; somewhat nervously I ask, "What's next?!"

So after a long day of slogging around in the woods, packing sloppy wet snow into trails for the dogs to run on, I plop down on the couch to relax. I watch the news and turn over to Saturday Night Live. The opening skit was making fun of Rumsfeld's interview with the troops this week. "It's got potential," I think.

I was wrong. Colin Farrell was hosting. Nevermind the fact that he couldn't act dead, even if he was - the writing for the sketches is horrid. Todd and I wrote funnier things when we were in 5th grade. I only made it to the first musical guest break, and they sucked too.

Then it hit me. I had just finished my third beer. "Are you in there Jesus?" I scratched my head and turned the bottle upside down, held it up to the light, and peered through. "Nope. Guess I'll have to keep looking." I opened another and took a sip. I really wanted a cigarette, but I can't smoke in the house. Then I remembered the morning foray. Damn those bastards - they're behind all of this. I know it. If only I could prove it. Oh well, maybe I'll just have another beer - too much work. No one cares anyway - look at the election...

Currently listening : No Nuclear War By Peter Tosh Release date: 30 July, 2002

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And the sign says "Long-haired freaky people need not apply..."
Current mood: blah

Tom assures us that MySpace is through sucking ass for awhile. But now my Hotmail is fucked up! Sometimes I wonder about the conveniences of modern technology.

Like the other day, for example, at the gas station. It's freezing cold and raining. I'm running late for a meeting with my lawyer, so of course, something's bound to fuck up. I pull up to the only open pump, slide my credit card in the reader, make my selection, and...nothing. I start pushing the buttons again. The gas-god's voice comes over the speaker: "There's something wrong with the computer, try it again." So I hang up the nozzle, wait a second, and start the process again. Still nothing. I impatiently push the intercom button a half dozen times: "Look, I'll just pay inside. Can you reset it for me?" Silence. "Okay sir, try it now." I pumped half a month's salary into the tank and went inside to pay - cold, wet, and agitated.

"Mmmm, coffee will help," I thought, grabbing a cup on the way to the counter. "Just the coffee," asked the dunce behind the counter. I look out the window and stare right at my truck. "No, I had the $50 in gas, too." "Oh, that was you? Sorry about that, sometimes those things are tempermental." "Oh, that's OK - so am I sometimes," I replied, only half joking. I handed her my credit card and she swiped it. Nothing. Tries again. Nothing. Keys in the numbers by hand. "PIN number?" "There's no PIN number, it's a credit card." "Oh..." Punches some more keys. "Dammit, this thing won't clear," she screams to her apparently equally challenged cohort in the back.

Meanwhile, the little buzzer keeps chiming as some other poor soul waits to pump gas outside in the sleet. A line has backed up half way to the door by now, as this is the only register open, with two other employees in the store. I look at the other customers apologetically. "I'm sorry. If I had enough cash, I'd just pay for it..."

"Let me try," says Cro-Magnon .2. A flurry of keystrokes. Nothing. "Goddamn this thing, I'm goin' to get the hammer from the back," she exclaims, banging her fist on the counter. The receipt prints. Cheers and clapping ring out. "I guess you just need a B.F.H. sometimes, huh," laughs some Bubba-hunter in his plaid and safety orange jumpsuit. "What's that," inquires Cro-Magnon .1. "You know, a big fuckin' hammer." He mouths the words, as there are small children in line with their mothers. I make my getaway.

Not that I hate all technology - I'm no UnaBomber. I like the convenience of having my choice of odd films at my fingertips in the wee hours of the morning. I have gotten into my regular unemployed routine of staying up until 3-4 am watching movies, then pondering them as I try to fall asleep. Just as I begin to doze off, my wife gets up for work. She takes the dogs for a walk, showers, gets ready to face another day.

I sleep the morning away and contemplate getting up before noon. So I can be productive at nothing all day. I enjoy these little breaks between jobs, but it begins to get to me after awhile. I'm ready for it to start snowing, so that I can start with the dogsledding again. But why?

If I truly am on my way to the bighouse this spring, why should I be wasting my time working for someone else? I should be out livin' it up, right? There was a line in this movie "13 Conversations About One Thing" the other night that stuck with me. "You know, life only really makes sense when you look at it backwards. Too bad we have to live it forward..."

My question is this: How long am I going to have to wait for all of this to make sense? That's gonna be some punchline. I just hope I get it.

Currently watching : 13 Conversations About One Thing Release date: 19 November, 2002

1:02 PM - 1 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Thieving Bastards...
Current mood: angry

First it was the new Virgin cell phone commercials with "Chrismahanakwanzukah" and now someone has (for real) come up with "Chrismukkah" cards for bi-religious families. Those thieving ratbastard fuck children! For several years now, my friends and I have celebrated "Hallokwanzukah" - a Festivus-like, all-inclusive holiday for the rest of us. Timed somewhere between Halloween and New Year's, whenever school break/life schedules would permit. The central purpose was to escape the madness of familial obligations during the other socially accepted holidays. That, and to get drunk - while eating deep-fried turkey. We even had gifts. They either had to be something you got for free or something of little monetary value. Like the full box of Godzilla cupholders that I got from the Blockbuster dumpster. It was after all the promos for the newer Godzilla movie and they didn't want them anymore. Or the Pez-flavored popcorn I got from Big Lots.
Now the cretins have ruined it by commercializing it like everything else that was once pure and innocent. I hate corporate America!

Currently listening : Pork Soda By Primus Release date: 20 April, 1993

3:21 PM - 1 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Growing condiment abuse among teens...
Current mood: quixotic

So I'm logging into my Hotmail account and the one of the commercials over on the side is touting a new fashion craze - "body butter."  Now, I'm all about the condiments.  I consider myself a pretty damn good cook and I know a little about complimenting flavors, the what nots, and what have yous.  Like rock and roll is pretty good on its own, but throw in some drugs and alot of sex and you've got a party.  Like wieners are OK, but throw on some ketchup, mustard, and relish and you've got a fuckin' hot dog.  You've gotta know how to use them, though - you don't want to mask flavors, you want to enhance them.

So, I've used some of your typical body condiments before - whipped cream, chocolate, fruits, vegetables, liqeurs, flaming liqeurs, Grey Poupon, etc. But body butter?  Does it come in a stick form or just in a tub?  Are there substitutes - like body margerine, or lower cholesterol body butter?  Can it stand alone, or should it be used in conjunction with bread, corn on the cob, mashed potatoes, etc?  And what parts of the body is it best used on?  From the ad, it sounds like you slather it all over - but I know certain parts of the body have more delicate flavors that you wouldn't want to cover up...

7:28 AM - 2 Comments - 1 Kudos - Add Comment