It happened on Friday night, sitting on the patio after work. I was hoping that a certain guy would text me and want to hang out, but I was also thinking it would be nice just to get some beer and go home and hang out with Momma.
Another friend came by to have a drink and hang out, and eventually a workmate finished closing the kitchen and joined us. A short time later another person came by though didn't quite join us so much as hang out on the square side of the patio to chat for a moment.
The workmate was the one non gay person there at this point. It's always nice to see the non gay person and recognize that they are the minority for once. This has some bearing on the point of the post as you will soon see.
A customer was leaving our patio about this time, and I noticed something as she pulled her sweater on. I commented to those around me that she was wearing three different shades of pink, and indeed she was. Her skirt, top and sweater, though all pink, were all obviously different shades.
The joiner, from his side of the fence commented, "That was gay." And I have to suppose that it was, my noticing her various versions on a single color theme.
Anyway, it's not much of a story, but now you know it, and you can carry it with you your whole life.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Sunday, May 24, 2009
dudes and chicks
Any of my couple of readers that are friends with me on Facebook may have seen my profile lately and may have noticed a couple of quizzes that I took recently. They were both asking me how much I knew about men and women, two quizzes, one for each gender.
Do I have to preface the whole rest of what I'm saying by pointing out that I honestly do in fact know better than to rely in any way, shape or form with the results of a quiz at a social networking site? Do you perhaps please think I'm at least smart enough to get it?
I'll give you that the quizzes seemed to rely mostly on stereotypes. I get that. On some level though I do think that some basic stereotypes about gender differences have some bearing in the general neighborhood of truth, though given each individual person that claims one gender of the two is still only going to be somewhere on the spectrum that is gender differences. Think Venn diagram, people, with lots of circles. I get it.
I think that idea of gender spectrum is something that so many people fail to fully recognize, and I may have mentioned something along these lines in a past post even if vaguely. But none of that is quite the point, though it does have some bearing.
The only reason I'm sitting here now writing this is those two damn quizzes. And believe me when I tell you that I almost didn't bother because of the process. My computer and/or my internet connection and/or Facebook and/or anything else I might be leaving out seemed to conspire against me. The first time I tried to take the first quiz asking how well I knew men I kept getting sent back to home. The link to take the quiz didn't work.
I walked away from the Fb and had a beer and tucked some kids in bed. I lazed around a tiny bit and finally had nothing better to do. Dear ol' Fb was calling. This time I was able to go right to and then take the quiz. When I was completely done and leaving the end of the quiz page I saw a link to a different but related quiz asking me how well I knew women.
So on to the quiz results and the point of all this
How well do I know men? 25%
How well do I know women? 100%
Do I now need to point out that I didn't game the results? I didn't. I don't have time for that sort of thing. Okay, I'm blogging it now, so on some level I could have had time, but I'm not doing that. If I don't like a quiz result I just don't bother posting it. You can do that. I take the quiz and try to be honest, and if there's a reason to post the result then I do. I do also get that it's meant to be fun. I did also find out that Fb thinks I'm Frenchy from Grease, so please accept that I'm keeping this in the proper place in order of importance and accuracy as regards me and myself and my place in the world.
I'm really not going into the different ways my mind works to make a big deal out of something so pointless. I guess I do feel some need to point it out, that some nonsense social network site app tells me I must be a woman. It says something on some level regardless of how meaningless that is. Maybe it's just that nearly anything is enough to set my head off on a wild goose chase of nonsense considerations. Or maybe it says I might be a little bit gay.
That's all I know about the matter.
Do I have to preface the whole rest of what I'm saying by pointing out that I honestly do in fact know better than to rely in any way, shape or form with the results of a quiz at a social networking site? Do you perhaps please think I'm at least smart enough to get it?
I'll give you that the quizzes seemed to rely mostly on stereotypes. I get that. On some level though I do think that some basic stereotypes about gender differences have some bearing in the general neighborhood of truth, though given each individual person that claims one gender of the two is still only going to be somewhere on the spectrum that is gender differences. Think Venn diagram, people, with lots of circles. I get it.
I think that idea of gender spectrum is something that so many people fail to fully recognize, and I may have mentioned something along these lines in a past post even if vaguely. But none of that is quite the point, though it does have some bearing.
The only reason I'm sitting here now writing this is those two damn quizzes. And believe me when I tell you that I almost didn't bother because of the process. My computer and/or my internet connection and/or Facebook and/or anything else I might be leaving out seemed to conspire against me. The first time I tried to take the first quiz asking how well I knew men I kept getting sent back to home. The link to take the quiz didn't work.
I walked away from the Fb and had a beer and tucked some kids in bed. I lazed around a tiny bit and finally had nothing better to do. Dear ol' Fb was calling. This time I was able to go right to and then take the quiz. When I was completely done and leaving the end of the quiz page I saw a link to a different but related quiz asking me how well I knew women.
So on to the quiz results and the point of all this
How well do I know men? 25%
How well do I know women? 100%
Do I now need to point out that I didn't game the results? I didn't. I don't have time for that sort of thing. Okay, I'm blogging it now, so on some level I could have had time, but I'm not doing that. If I don't like a quiz result I just don't bother posting it. You can do that. I take the quiz and try to be honest, and if there's a reason to post the result then I do. I do also get that it's meant to be fun. I did also find out that Fb thinks I'm Frenchy from Grease, so please accept that I'm keeping this in the proper place in order of importance and accuracy as regards me and myself and my place in the world.
I'm really not going into the different ways my mind works to make a big deal out of something so pointless. I guess I do feel some need to point it out, that some nonsense social network site app tells me I must be a woman. It says something on some level regardless of how meaningless that is. Maybe it's just that nearly anything is enough to set my head off on a wild goose chase of nonsense considerations. Or maybe it says I might be a little bit gay.
That's all I know about the matter.
Friday, May 22, 2009
tiny balls
Given different circumstances my night could have turned out any number of ways. I'd gone to the gay bar to meet the guy I keep mentioning. We hung out for a bit, talked, laughed, discussed the drag queens.
He needed to get home, and I was getting texts from a friend wanting me to meet her for a drink. The guy and I left, walking to his car. We talked for another few minutes and admired the interior of a soon to be new restaurant that hasn't yet opened, though I'm not sure why. The inside certainly looked as if they were just closed for the night.
We finally parted ways but not before sharing a very brief kiss, a talk-to-you-soon sort of kiss. And then the car full of assholes ran a red light just behind us. They yelled something unintelligible at us, extended their middle fingers out of their windows and accelerated away.
It should have been more annoying that it was, maybe even a little hurtful that a car full of douche bags can't just leave people alone. I could easily see that the car was in fact full, four stupid heads bouncing around inside, but as they greeted us with their tiny little minds I realized that the stomp on the gas pedal really also indicated that their balls are also rather tiny.
Anyone can yell from a speeding car. Anyone can flip you off because they think they deserve to deride anyone they feel superior to.
Of course had they chosen to stop and do something more physical the guy and I could easily have made it back across the street to the bar which likely would have emptied somewhat in a cloud of fags and drag queens. And still nothing would have happened anymore than the tiny minds speeding off and away.
Yes, I know it can be dangerous out there and that I should be careful. I also know how fortunate I am that it's now and not years ago when I would have been even less safe. I get what has happened to too many gay people. But I also refuse to be intimidated.
He needed to get home, and I was getting texts from a friend wanting me to meet her for a drink. The guy and I left, walking to his car. We talked for another few minutes and admired the interior of a soon to be new restaurant that hasn't yet opened, though I'm not sure why. The inside certainly looked as if they were just closed for the night.
We finally parted ways but not before sharing a very brief kiss, a talk-to-you-soon sort of kiss. And then the car full of assholes ran a red light just behind us. They yelled something unintelligible at us, extended their middle fingers out of their windows and accelerated away.
It should have been more annoying that it was, maybe even a little hurtful that a car full of douche bags can't just leave people alone. I could easily see that the car was in fact full, four stupid heads bouncing around inside, but as they greeted us with their tiny little minds I realized that the stomp on the gas pedal really also indicated that their balls are also rather tiny.
Anyone can yell from a speeding car. Anyone can flip you off because they think they deserve to deride anyone they feel superior to.
Of course had they chosen to stop and do something more physical the guy and I could easily have made it back across the street to the bar which likely would have emptied somewhat in a cloud of fags and drag queens. And still nothing would have happened anymore than the tiny minds speeding off and away.
Yes, I know it can be dangerous out there and that I should be careful. I also know how fortunate I am that it's now and not years ago when I would have been even less safe. I get what has happened to too many gay people. But I also refuse to be intimidated.
a piece of goodness in my morning news
So, did you hear the one about the guy willing to fight the Taliban while wearing pink boxer shorts? Seriously. Go HERE.
Perhaps you don't know it, but all of the best shit I write comes when I'm a couple or so drinks into my evening. I'm sure that's the case less often than I think at this moment, but with the smell of the gay bar still on me and the whatnot in my head, right this second it feels like I'm at my best/worst like never before.
Every time I walk away from the guy that keeps messing with my head. I'm left wondering what exactly just happened, whether or not I said what I meant to say, whether or not I read him and got what he was trying to say.
A brief kiss, shouts from a passing car, and I'm home and not as alone as I feel right now. And I don't really feel as alone as the words suggest. But I just don't know.
Maybe that what I should get tattooed across my stomach in that undeniable and barely readable old English script, "I don't know." I seem to never know.
I don't think I should have tried any harder or pushed any more, but maybe I should have. Maybe I should have tried more, but I don't think so. At the same time I'm so seldom sure of myself in certain arenas while too sure of myself and full of my rightness in others.
This being patient and slow that I've been doing feels right. This two weeks that I've been slowly chasing him, hoping he gets what I'm trying to say, it seems so right. I can't know. I don't trust crystal balls even were I to find one and see something in it. My gut says I'm okay, he's okay and we might well be. My brain does its usual and makes everything seem, not wrong, but not as right as one might want.
And I hope I'm not spinning my wheels. I hope I find traction.
On the other hand, maybe I should listen when he tells me I'm being too dramatic.
Every time I walk away from the guy that keeps messing with my head. I'm left wondering what exactly just happened, whether or not I said what I meant to say, whether or not I read him and got what he was trying to say.
A brief kiss, shouts from a passing car, and I'm home and not as alone as I feel right now. And I don't really feel as alone as the words suggest. But I just don't know.
Maybe that what I should get tattooed across my stomach in that undeniable and barely readable old English script, "I don't know." I seem to never know.
I don't think I should have tried any harder or pushed any more, but maybe I should have. Maybe I should have tried more, but I don't think so. At the same time I'm so seldom sure of myself in certain arenas while too sure of myself and full of my rightness in others.
This being patient and slow that I've been doing feels right. This two weeks that I've been slowly chasing him, hoping he gets what I'm trying to say, it seems so right. I can't know. I don't trust crystal balls even were I to find one and see something in it. My gut says I'm okay, he's okay and we might well be. My brain does its usual and makes everything seem, not wrong, but not as right as one might want.
And I hope I'm not spinning my wheels. I hope I find traction.
On the other hand, maybe I should listen when he tells me I'm being too dramatic.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Monday, May 18, 2009
minus one for overuse of the word
Things are always weird it seems. By things I don't know that I can say in a coherent way exactly what it is that I mean. My situation is weird. My head makes things seem weird. The lawnmower sounds weird as Big Brother pushes it around the back yard.
I'm tired of sleeping on the sofa, but even if I could sleep in the bed it just seems too weird. I don't want to sleep there, and I don't want to smell Momma or her boyfriend when I'm trying to get to sleep.
There's a guy I'm trying to see, and whatever is going on there, though nice, seems possibly weird. I like him, and I'm pretty sure he likes me, and we seem to be moving at a rather glacial pace toward whatever might be about to happen, and it's weird. Maybe just my ability to be so patient and my delight in this patience and the slowness are a bit weird, and it feels weird to be so okay with this.
I suppose a big part of the weirdness of feeling lately is some other feeling I'm having, this feeling like some sort of internal springs are slowly tightening. It's as if they are setting themselves for some sort of action. It's sort of like being blindfolded and led some unknown direction and knowing that at any minute I'll be told to jump, still blindfolded, totally unaware of direction or target or reason.
I want to sleep in a bed and not just once, but I want my own bed in my own place. Having managed to blow all the income tax return I'm starting over, but at least I'm starting. I have a couple hundred in my savings account that I've managed not to need to bail myself out right before payday, but the way I've been living I could easily find that gone too soon.
Alongside the coiled springs feeling is that old familiar trapped and stuck feeling. I wish that was the weird feeling, but it's like an old acquaintance, I know it whether I like it or not.
And it's cold here in my part of East TN today. Not a horrible teeth chattering cold, but a coolness that I'm just tired of. I want warmth, not a jacket.
I'm tired and tired of being tired. Part of this is just being so lazy that my body doesn't know how to do anything but stare at a computer, go to work and hold down my spot at the bar. I'm tired because I haven't been sleeping well, and I've been drinking a bit more than is good for me. I'm not eating worth shit.
And I'm not really acting to change any of this. I've said and thought that I was going to make changes, and then I've gone back to how I've been, how I've acted. I haven't made those changes, and I'm paying the price.
Later, I keep telling myself. I have time I keep saying.
I'm tired of sleeping on the sofa, but even if I could sleep in the bed it just seems too weird. I don't want to sleep there, and I don't want to smell Momma or her boyfriend when I'm trying to get to sleep.
There's a guy I'm trying to see, and whatever is going on there, though nice, seems possibly weird. I like him, and I'm pretty sure he likes me, and we seem to be moving at a rather glacial pace toward whatever might be about to happen, and it's weird. Maybe just my ability to be so patient and my delight in this patience and the slowness are a bit weird, and it feels weird to be so okay with this.
I suppose a big part of the weirdness of feeling lately is some other feeling I'm having, this feeling like some sort of internal springs are slowly tightening. It's as if they are setting themselves for some sort of action. It's sort of like being blindfolded and led some unknown direction and knowing that at any minute I'll be told to jump, still blindfolded, totally unaware of direction or target or reason.
I want to sleep in a bed and not just once, but I want my own bed in my own place. Having managed to blow all the income tax return I'm starting over, but at least I'm starting. I have a couple hundred in my savings account that I've managed not to need to bail myself out right before payday, but the way I've been living I could easily find that gone too soon.
Alongside the coiled springs feeling is that old familiar trapped and stuck feeling. I wish that was the weird feeling, but it's like an old acquaintance, I know it whether I like it or not.
And it's cold here in my part of East TN today. Not a horrible teeth chattering cold, but a coolness that I'm just tired of. I want warmth, not a jacket.
I'm tired and tired of being tired. Part of this is just being so lazy that my body doesn't know how to do anything but stare at a computer, go to work and hold down my spot at the bar. I'm tired because I haven't been sleeping well, and I've been drinking a bit more than is good for me. I'm not eating worth shit.
And I'm not really acting to change any of this. I've said and thought that I was going to make changes, and then I've gone back to how I've been, how I've acted. I haven't made those changes, and I'm paying the price.
Later, I keep telling myself. I have time I keep saying.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
on my way to work
So, I know where he works. I'm a semi regular there, and was just there yesterday for the awesome local milk we've been buying lately.
I'm so tempted to stop in, my excuse being to buy a tea, one of the best iced teas ever, while my real reason would of course be to see him for just a moment, to say hi, to see his beautiful eyes and smile.
But I'm not going to. I'll see him soon enough. Though I'm sure of that I don't actually know when, but I can wait.
I'm so tempted to stop in, my excuse being to buy a tea, one of the best iced teas ever, while my real reason would of course be to see him for just a moment, to say hi, to see his beautiful eyes and smile.
But I'm not going to. I'll see him soon enough. Though I'm sure of that I don't actually know when, but I can wait.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
like like maybe
Have you ever found yourself trying not to like a boy too much? I've only hung out with him a couple of times not counting that first night months ago when I met him, and that barely counts because that's the nature of things.
We've texted some and talked on the phone a bit and hung out over beers, and I can almost still feel the feel of his beard on my cheeks. And then there's his eyes and his laugh, and there's me trying not to like him too much.
Because I do like him. I like how plain ol' nice it is to just sit and talk to him. I like how little and how much we seem to have in common. I like when my phone makes a noise and I look and see his name.
And now I've said too much, but I want to give you the soundtrack for the evening. We're doing two different Faith No More songs, Just a Man and I Started a Joke. Check them both out, whether or not your a fan of this amazing band.
We've texted some and talked on the phone a bit and hung out over beers, and I can almost still feel the feel of his beard on my cheeks. And then there's his eyes and his laugh, and there's me trying not to like him too much.
Because I do like him. I like how plain ol' nice it is to just sit and talk to him. I like how little and how much we seem to have in common. I like when my phone makes a noise and I look and see his name.
And now I've said too much, but I want to give you the soundtrack for the evening. We're doing two different Faith No More songs, Just a Man and I Started a Joke. Check them both out, whether or not your a fan of this amazing band.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
smooth criminal
Perhaps I've mentioned here, though I don't remember, but I'm having some minor car issues lately. My front, driver side window refuses to roll up. It will roll down, and it did actually roll up a couple of times last week, but no more. I have a big orange garbage bag that rides around and acts as my window when I have to park my car outside.
After work last night I met up with a nice and very attractive young man, and we went to a couple of bars and drank a couple of beers. I rode in his truck to one of the bars, and he drove me back to my car at the end of the night.
As he parked next to my car I noticed my doors were unlocked. Yes, even though it's useless to do so, I find myself locking the doors. It was parked in the garage nearest the square, and since it's inside basically I didn't bother to put my orange window up. It seems like that might make my issue more noticeable and more attractive to would be thieves.
I exited the truck of the nice and attractive guy to get into my car and noticed that the ash tray had been pulled out and dumped on the passenger seat. I should add that I've removed anything of value from the car, and I've even begun carrying a bag so that I can carry my cd's and my stereo front with me when the car is parked in public.
I should also point out that the ash tray was probably open and that I roll my own cigarettes. I'm guessing that someone noticed the open window and then noticed what looked like roaches, marijuana cigarette butts for those not down with drug lingo.
So they found nothing of value. I have to almost laugh a little, but at the same time there's also some amount of violation involved. Someone thinks it's okay to mess with my stuff and try to steal my stuff. I'm sure a working and rolled up window would have dissuaded them, but I don't know. Someone's car was apparently broken into near mine as there was glass on the ground.
And this is why we just can't have nice things. Some asshole is always on the lookout for your stuff. So, to the douchebag who got in my car, HAHA you prick! You got shit, motherfucker!
Oh, and the guy in the truck? He's nice, and he's cute, and he seems to like me. I think I seems to like him as well, and that's all the info you're getting right now.
After work last night I met up with a nice and very attractive young man, and we went to a couple of bars and drank a couple of beers. I rode in his truck to one of the bars, and he drove me back to my car at the end of the night.
As he parked next to my car I noticed my doors were unlocked. Yes, even though it's useless to do so, I find myself locking the doors. It was parked in the garage nearest the square, and since it's inside basically I didn't bother to put my orange window up. It seems like that might make my issue more noticeable and more attractive to would be thieves.
I exited the truck of the nice and attractive guy to get into my car and noticed that the ash tray had been pulled out and dumped on the passenger seat. I should add that I've removed anything of value from the car, and I've even begun carrying a bag so that I can carry my cd's and my stereo front with me when the car is parked in public.
I should also point out that the ash tray was probably open and that I roll my own cigarettes. I'm guessing that someone noticed the open window and then noticed what looked like roaches, marijuana cigarette butts for those not down with drug lingo.
So they found nothing of value. I have to almost laugh a little, but at the same time there's also some amount of violation involved. Someone thinks it's okay to mess with my stuff and try to steal my stuff. I'm sure a working and rolled up window would have dissuaded them, but I don't know. Someone's car was apparently broken into near mine as there was glass on the ground.
And this is why we just can't have nice things. Some asshole is always on the lookout for your stuff. So, to the douchebag who got in my car, HAHA you prick! You got shit, motherfucker!
Oh, and the guy in the truck? He's nice, and he's cute, and he seems to like me. I think I seems to like him as well, and that's all the info you're getting right now.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
in a good way
Last night wasn't horrid. I was on the line with the guy that bugs me, or should I say one of the guys that bugs me. And he didn't annoy the piss out of me last night.
The kid is in his very early twenties and is a college student who apparently doesn't need the money nearly as much as I do. He was an infant when I bussed my first table, a small child when I was scrubbing off the drive through lane, not even in middle school when I sliced open the two middle fingers on my left hand, leaving a scar that is still there.
I wouldn't hold any of this against him but for the attitude that he tends to have. He's tried to tell me how to cook things I've cooked thousands of. He caught me at a downtime, but I'm coming back, and I own that line when he's not there.
For reasons of seniority I tend to have to take the lesser role on the line, and to some extent that's undertandable, but no more. I'm going to take the captain's seat from him, and I'm going to show him how it works when it works right.
But none of that was even the point. I started out to discuss why last night was nice in the best possible way. It could well not have been, but I managed to save my share and have the end saved for me.
There's a guy that I met through a friend, a friend I don't see nearly often enough, and a guy that I thought was kind of cool the first time I met him. I've run into him here and there, and he's remembered me and greeted me, though it never really got past that point. I sent him a message after one of our random encounters and was probably too myself. He messaged me back in a nice way but was seeing someone. He recently sent me an IM on Facebook, and we talked for a nice long while. We seemed to have some cool things in common.
Last night at work went well. We had a nice flow of customers for graduation weekend, and we served them good food, at least mine was good, and they likely left fat and happy. I did my share of cleaning at the end of the night but didn't have to close. I'd hoped to get off work earlier than I did, but I did insist on doing more cleaning than the closer asked. It was already late enough I reasoned.
We have a great patio where I work, and I was happy to enjoy my first beer of the evening in the outdoors with some decent people to chat with. Half way through that beer I got a text from a number not in my phone book inviting me for a drink. I remembered having given the guy mentioned above my phone number, but I had no way to know that it was him till I asked.
I'd have been content last night to enjoy a beer or two on the patio and proceed homeward, but the text inviting me out for a drink and the guy won the night. I soon tossed my empty can into the recycling bin and was off for the gay bar.
And we sat and talked. I didn't drink a bunch and didn't get any. I had a nice conversation. It was nice, and in the best possible way.
And that's pretty much it.
The kid is in his very early twenties and is a college student who apparently doesn't need the money nearly as much as I do. He was an infant when I bussed my first table, a small child when I was scrubbing off the drive through lane, not even in middle school when I sliced open the two middle fingers on my left hand, leaving a scar that is still there.
I wouldn't hold any of this against him but for the attitude that he tends to have. He's tried to tell me how to cook things I've cooked thousands of. He caught me at a downtime, but I'm coming back, and I own that line when he's not there.
For reasons of seniority I tend to have to take the lesser role on the line, and to some extent that's undertandable, but no more. I'm going to take the captain's seat from him, and I'm going to show him how it works when it works right.
But none of that was even the point. I started out to discuss why last night was nice in the best possible way. It could well not have been, but I managed to save my share and have the end saved for me.
There's a guy that I met through a friend, a friend I don't see nearly often enough, and a guy that I thought was kind of cool the first time I met him. I've run into him here and there, and he's remembered me and greeted me, though it never really got past that point. I sent him a message after one of our random encounters and was probably too myself. He messaged me back in a nice way but was seeing someone. He recently sent me an IM on Facebook, and we talked for a nice long while. We seemed to have some cool things in common.
Last night at work went well. We had a nice flow of customers for graduation weekend, and we served them good food, at least mine was good, and they likely left fat and happy. I did my share of cleaning at the end of the night but didn't have to close. I'd hoped to get off work earlier than I did, but I did insist on doing more cleaning than the closer asked. It was already late enough I reasoned.
We have a great patio where I work, and I was happy to enjoy my first beer of the evening in the outdoors with some decent people to chat with. Half way through that beer I got a text from a number not in my phone book inviting me for a drink. I remembered having given the guy mentioned above my phone number, but I had no way to know that it was him till I asked.
I'd have been content last night to enjoy a beer or two on the patio and proceed homeward, but the text inviting me out for a drink and the guy won the night. I soon tossed my empty can into the recycling bin and was off for the gay bar.
And we sat and talked. I didn't drink a bunch and didn't get any. I had a nice conversation. It was nice, and in the best possible way.
And that's pretty much it.
Thursday, May 07, 2009
book meme
A certain Ms. Contemplator did this meme, and it's been ages since anyone else in my little segment of my venn diagram of the blogosphere did one. It's almost like we all did all the good ones and then quit. If you're so inclined I suggest THIS song opened in another tab as your soundtrack for reading. It's Leonard Cohen, and you're welcome.
1. To mark your page you: use a bookmark, bend the page corner, leave the book open face down?
Only book marks ever! I even have favorite bookmarks. My top fave is actually a piece of brown paper that came wrapped around Momma's first and fanciest sushi knife.
2. Do you lend your books?
I hate to. I've lost too many books that way, and I'm probably a bit selfish with my books, but I love all my babies.
3. You find an interesting passage: you write in your book or NO WRITING IN BOOKS!
It's not that I'm against writing in books, though I am, and I don't do it.
4. Dust jackets - leave it on or take it off.
I take it off when I'm reading the book. It gets in the way, and it's too easy to tear it up. When I'm done reading the book I try to remember to put the dust jacket back on.
5. Hard cover, paperback, skip it and get the audio book?
I prefer hard covers because they last better, but really the book is the thing in the end. I don't do audio books, though I'm not against them, but really books are meant to be read and held and smelled. Audio is for music, and audio book listening is music listening time wasted.
6. Do you shelve your books by subject, author, or size and color of the book spines?
Currently I shelve them by author and by suitability for children versus unsuitability for children. Of course shelving also involves shelves, so we won't go into the fact that none of the stacks of unshelved books are unshelved.
7. Buy it or borrow it from the library later?
I usually do the library thing because I'm broke, but if I had money just falling out of my ass you can believe I'd be boring the kids at the bookstore and hitting up some dot coms. I love having books. I love having entire book cases full of books in my house.
8. Do you put your name on your books - scribble your name in the cover, fancy bookplate, or stamp?
I don't even put the kids names in books they are given as gifts. I just don't write in them at all. It's not that I'm against it as such, but I kind of am.
9. Most of the books you own are rare and out of print books or recent publications?
I own books for a variety of reasons. I have random text books and books that were gifts. I have huge piles of books that were bought used so that we could give the boys a big pile of books for Christmas. I have some old and likely out of print books. I have some books that I'll never read and should just get rid of.
10. Page edges - deckled or straight?
Does deckling mean that uneven edges thing? or the sparkly gold thing? Either way I find it hard to do straight stuff, so I'd choose to think of the other kind as not deckled thank you very much.
11. How many books do you read at one time?
One, because more than that means I'm not giving the book its due. Also I'm easily confused.
12. Be honest, ever tear a page from a book?
no, I'd never deface one of my own books, and if I wanted a page bad enough I'd just steal the whole damn book, or buy it. Yeah, buy it! That's what I'd do.
If you choose to do the meme, let me know.
1. To mark your page you: use a bookmark, bend the page corner, leave the book open face down?
Only book marks ever! I even have favorite bookmarks. My top fave is actually a piece of brown paper that came wrapped around Momma's first and fanciest sushi knife.
2. Do you lend your books?
I hate to. I've lost too many books that way, and I'm probably a bit selfish with my books, but I love all my babies.
3. You find an interesting passage: you write in your book or NO WRITING IN BOOKS!
It's not that I'm against writing in books, though I am, and I don't do it.
4. Dust jackets - leave it on or take it off.
I take it off when I'm reading the book. It gets in the way, and it's too easy to tear it up. When I'm done reading the book I try to remember to put the dust jacket back on.
5. Hard cover, paperback, skip it and get the audio book?
I prefer hard covers because they last better, but really the book is the thing in the end. I don't do audio books, though I'm not against them, but really books are meant to be read and held and smelled. Audio is for music, and audio book listening is music listening time wasted.
6. Do you shelve your books by subject, author, or size and color of the book spines?
Currently I shelve them by author and by suitability for children versus unsuitability for children. Of course shelving also involves shelves, so we won't go into the fact that none of the stacks of unshelved books are unshelved.
7. Buy it or borrow it from the library later?
I usually do the library thing because I'm broke, but if I had money just falling out of my ass you can believe I'd be boring the kids at the bookstore and hitting up some dot coms. I love having books. I love having entire book cases full of books in my house.
8. Do you put your name on your books - scribble your name in the cover, fancy bookplate, or stamp?
I don't even put the kids names in books they are given as gifts. I just don't write in them at all. It's not that I'm against it as such, but I kind of am.
9. Most of the books you own are rare and out of print books or recent publications?
I own books for a variety of reasons. I have random text books and books that were gifts. I have huge piles of books that were bought used so that we could give the boys a big pile of books for Christmas. I have some old and likely out of print books. I have some books that I'll never read and should just get rid of.
10. Page edges - deckled or straight?
Does deckling mean that uneven edges thing? or the sparkly gold thing? Either way I find it hard to do straight stuff, so I'd choose to think of the other kind as not deckled thank you very much.
11. How many books do you read at one time?
One, because more than that means I'm not giving the book its due. Also I'm easily confused.
12. Be honest, ever tear a page from a book?
no, I'd never deface one of my own books, and if I wanted a page bad enough I'd just steal the whole damn book, or buy it. Yeah, buy it! That's what I'd do.
If you choose to do the meme, let me know.
Wednesday, May 06, 2009
the fun, does it ever
I'm certainly not the first person to contend that with the solution to one problem comes the very next problem. Often the problem gives us a break, a pretend respite between issues, a lull that we can pretend to fall asleep because we feel so safe.
Just about a month ago my car was repaired and no longer leaks quarts of oil onto the ground. I tallied some of the figures of some of the purchases made during the leaking days and found that I spent just over three hundred dollars on oil to replace the leaked oil, an oil pan and gasket, replacing tools that I broke, and the actual repair job itself. Add in the couple of meals between me and the boys on the couple of days when it was so much easier to just eat somewhere, and the total climbs ever higher.
And then I had a few weeks to enjoy my car. Now I have a great big orange garbage bag for a window on my front, driver side door.
From the moment we bought this car this window was slow to roll up. It wasn't bad, but it was noticeably slower than the rest. It progressively got worse, and on cold days it worked even more slowly.
Now it doesn't work. It will roll down, and it's almost all the way down now, but it won't roll up. It won't even try, and it won't even make a noise that would indicate an attempt. It doesn't even make any clicking noises, though whether or not that matters is not something I can claim to know, but the absence of even clicking noises does seem indicative of something.
Oh, and the seat belt. The seat belt in the rear on the driver's side won't come out. That's historically been Big Brother's seat, but sadly he is forced to sit in the middle. I remember as a child that we wouldn't ever have known if a seat belt worked or not because we never used them. They were pretty much just those things we crammed down into the seat, and we only pulled them out to look for a lost quarter or pencil that had been eaten by the seat.
Oh, our modern world. I'm not against seat belts and do trust that they work to keep my family safer. I'm not sure about the air bags, and that's the reason neither of the boys can sit in the front. I'd be more than happy for Big Brother to sit up front with me and not have to worry about that back seat belt, but the safety device I'm not sure about can be deadly to a guy his size, so he's stuck in the middle of the back till I get the seat belt issue resolved.
And this has been a typically east TN rainy as hell spring, and today, my day off, my day for errands and whatnot, it's raining. It's been pretty much nonstop all day varying from downpour to drizzle and all points in between. I need to run these errands, and I'm sure I should just suck it up and go, but I don't want to get wet.
I'm not really sure what to do about the window. I can call my friend to bring her meter, and we could test things to narrow down the issue, and I'm sure in the end I'll end up replacing a motor or regulator or something else I don't understand. I could get estimates for just getting it fixed and not attempt a home repair at all, and this idea seems nice given the issues I had with my most recent repair attempt, but the cheap/broke part of me doesn't want to blow the money. The not-a-repair-type-person part of me doesn't even want to bother. I've taken the inside panel off the door and peered uselessly into the frame, and I don't even want to have to do that again.
So maybe I'll make some calls, and maybe I won't. Maybe I'll run my errands and have a soggy ass, and maybe I won't. Maybe I'll just feed the boys pizza and ramen so I can take a nap and not worry about anything.
Just about a month ago my car was repaired and no longer leaks quarts of oil onto the ground. I tallied some of the figures of some of the purchases made during the leaking days and found that I spent just over three hundred dollars on oil to replace the leaked oil, an oil pan and gasket, replacing tools that I broke, and the actual repair job itself. Add in the couple of meals between me and the boys on the couple of days when it was so much easier to just eat somewhere, and the total climbs ever higher.
And then I had a few weeks to enjoy my car. Now I have a great big orange garbage bag for a window on my front, driver side door.
From the moment we bought this car this window was slow to roll up. It wasn't bad, but it was noticeably slower than the rest. It progressively got worse, and on cold days it worked even more slowly.
Now it doesn't work. It will roll down, and it's almost all the way down now, but it won't roll up. It won't even try, and it won't even make a noise that would indicate an attempt. It doesn't even make any clicking noises, though whether or not that matters is not something I can claim to know, but the absence of even clicking noises does seem indicative of something.
Oh, and the seat belt. The seat belt in the rear on the driver's side won't come out. That's historically been Big Brother's seat, but sadly he is forced to sit in the middle. I remember as a child that we wouldn't ever have known if a seat belt worked or not because we never used them. They were pretty much just those things we crammed down into the seat, and we only pulled them out to look for a lost quarter or pencil that had been eaten by the seat.
Oh, our modern world. I'm not against seat belts and do trust that they work to keep my family safer. I'm not sure about the air bags, and that's the reason neither of the boys can sit in the front. I'd be more than happy for Big Brother to sit up front with me and not have to worry about that back seat belt, but the safety device I'm not sure about can be deadly to a guy his size, so he's stuck in the middle of the back till I get the seat belt issue resolved.
And this has been a typically east TN rainy as hell spring, and today, my day off, my day for errands and whatnot, it's raining. It's been pretty much nonstop all day varying from downpour to drizzle and all points in between. I need to run these errands, and I'm sure I should just suck it up and go, but I don't want to get wet.
I'm not really sure what to do about the window. I can call my friend to bring her meter, and we could test things to narrow down the issue, and I'm sure in the end I'll end up replacing a motor or regulator or something else I don't understand. I could get estimates for just getting it fixed and not attempt a home repair at all, and this idea seems nice given the issues I had with my most recent repair attempt, but the cheap/broke part of me doesn't want to blow the money. The not-a-repair-type-person part of me doesn't even want to bother. I've taken the inside panel off the door and peered uselessly into the frame, and I don't even want to have to do that again.
So maybe I'll make some calls, and maybe I won't. Maybe I'll run my errands and have a soggy ass, and maybe I won't. Maybe I'll just feed the boys pizza and ramen so I can take a nap and not worry about anything.
Tuesday, May 05, 2009
is so much fun
Last night saw me have a couple of interesting encounters. The first you won't get to hear the story of, but the second is at least worthy of a post, though I can't truthfully say it shows me in the best light.
I suppose this morning is a more apt description of the timing as I'd been out fairly late. I had had a bit to drink in the night part and ended up at someone's house. This is a someone I know, so be happy knowing that it wasn't an anonymous hookup.
"Mr. Hull, I pulled you over for speeding, and the light that illuminates your license plate is out. Also your tags are expired. Can I see your license and registration?"
"uh . . ." makes digging for wallet sound as I dig for wallet. "Here's my license. My registration is at home because my window won't roll up, so I took everything out of my car."
"Have you been drinking tonight?"
"Earlier."
"Well you smell like a . . ." I forget what I smelled like, but all I actually smelled was ass and lube, and I wondered if he could smell it and wondered if he too recognized it as the smell of gay sex, but I digress.
He went back to his car for a minute while I tried not to be blinded by the lights. He returned and first asked me why I wasn't wearing my seatbelt. I pointed out that I had been when he pulled me over, and I didn't point out that he watched me take it off to get my wallet out of my back pocket.
I watched his finger go back and forth, trying to move my eyes, feeling as if my head were turning though I tried to keep it still. I was sort of fixated on a nearly healed cut on his finger. He tried to trick me after what seemed like ten minutes worth of over extending my eye muscles by suddenly going up, but I was game for his attempt. Next I did the ten steps of heel to toe walk, turned in a small space at the end, and walked back ten more heel to toe steps. My favorite was the lifting my foot six inches off the ground and counting, one-one thousand, two-one thousand, etc. I actually made it to about fifteen before my balance required I put my foot down, and I actually said something along the lines of, "Fourteen-one thousand, fifteen-one thousand, and eventually I have to put my foot down." I may have laughed a little on the inside where the officer couldn't see.
I sat for a minute waiting, and he finally came back again and explained my charges, one of which was no insurance. I didn't point out that he'd asked for registration and not insurance, but I did show him my insurance card, and he was nice enough to scribble that charge out.
So went my second field sobriety test. The first time was a few years back, and I did it with two pulled hamstrings, injuries incurred earlier that same day while playing soccer. I passed then too.
I can't claim this as the greatest story, but it is a story, and now I have better things to do. But do take a warning. Don't drink and drive, and not just because you might spill your drink.
If you want to hear a band called The Business sing about drinking and driving go HERE. It's actually a fun song.
I suppose this morning is a more apt description of the timing as I'd been out fairly late. I had had a bit to drink in the night part and ended up at someone's house. This is a someone I know, so be happy knowing that it wasn't an anonymous hookup.
"Mr. Hull, I pulled you over for speeding, and the light that illuminates your license plate is out. Also your tags are expired. Can I see your license and registration?"
"uh . . ." makes digging for wallet sound as I dig for wallet. "Here's my license. My registration is at home because my window won't roll up, so I took everything out of my car."
"Have you been drinking tonight?"
"Earlier."
"Well you smell like a . . ." I forget what I smelled like, but all I actually smelled was ass and lube, and I wondered if he could smell it and wondered if he too recognized it as the smell of gay sex, but I digress.
He went back to his car for a minute while I tried not to be blinded by the lights. He returned and first asked me why I wasn't wearing my seatbelt. I pointed out that I had been when he pulled me over, and I didn't point out that he watched me take it off to get my wallet out of my back pocket.
I watched his finger go back and forth, trying to move my eyes, feeling as if my head were turning though I tried to keep it still. I was sort of fixated on a nearly healed cut on his finger. He tried to trick me after what seemed like ten minutes worth of over extending my eye muscles by suddenly going up, but I was game for his attempt. Next I did the ten steps of heel to toe walk, turned in a small space at the end, and walked back ten more heel to toe steps. My favorite was the lifting my foot six inches off the ground and counting, one-one thousand, two-one thousand, etc. I actually made it to about fifteen before my balance required I put my foot down, and I actually said something along the lines of, "Fourteen-one thousand, fifteen-one thousand, and eventually I have to put my foot down." I may have laughed a little on the inside where the officer couldn't see.
I sat for a minute waiting, and he finally came back again and explained my charges, one of which was no insurance. I didn't point out that he'd asked for registration and not insurance, but I did show him my insurance card, and he was nice enough to scribble that charge out.
So went my second field sobriety test. The first time was a few years back, and I did it with two pulled hamstrings, injuries incurred earlier that same day while playing soccer. I passed then too.
I can't claim this as the greatest story, but it is a story, and now I have better things to do. But do take a warning. Don't drink and drive, and not just because you might spill your drink.
If you want to hear a band called The Business sing about drinking and driving go HERE. It's actually a fun song.
Friday, May 01, 2009
fave song totally?
As kids we often have favorite things, songs or foods or whatever, and sometimes this carries into adulthood, though I do find as I'm older that I can less easily narrow down a group of anything into a single favorite.
The idea of a favorite song especially is difficult as there are just so many good songs out there. In addition when you deal with songs you realize that there are so many versions of good songs, and often the different versions are good for different reasons.
Our recent library trip found us picking up a two cd set of June Carter songs. She plays and sings with everyone from her sisters to Johnny Cash and so many more. One of the songs is a song that's come to be a personal favorite, Foggy Mountain Top or Some Foggy Mountain Top or Foggy Mountaintop, depending on where you read it.
I went poking around YouTube last night with this song in mind and found several versions. Each is good for different reasons though they are essentially the same. I don't know how many verses there are in the song as each version features different verses as well as slightly differing versions in wording. The boys sing about girls, while the girls sing about boys. It may not come as a surprise, but I like the versions sung about boys.
We'll start with a slightly more modern version, Dolly Parton and Porter Wagoner with some really nice electric guitar HERE. I do like this version, and beyond it being Dolly it is a great rollicking kind of thing.
Next we'll check out Bill Monroe and Doc Watson. If you know good music then you are familiar with these gentlemen. Listen HERE to their version, two masters of the musical form.
And finally the ladies that started all this, June Carter and her sisters HERE. If you aren't familiar with the Carter family that's a shame. Acquaint yourself as soon as is reasonable.
As always with the YouTube, I can't be held accountable for the quality of any of the videos. I found videos with good music, and really that's what we're here for, so play and enjoy.
The idea of a favorite song especially is difficult as there are just so many good songs out there. In addition when you deal with songs you realize that there are so many versions of good songs, and often the different versions are good for different reasons.
Our recent library trip found us picking up a two cd set of June Carter songs. She plays and sings with everyone from her sisters to Johnny Cash and so many more. One of the songs is a song that's come to be a personal favorite, Foggy Mountain Top or Some Foggy Mountain Top or Foggy Mountaintop, depending on where you read it.
I went poking around YouTube last night with this song in mind and found several versions. Each is good for different reasons though they are essentially the same. I don't know how many verses there are in the song as each version features different verses as well as slightly differing versions in wording. The boys sing about girls, while the girls sing about boys. It may not come as a surprise, but I like the versions sung about boys.
We'll start with a slightly more modern version, Dolly Parton and Porter Wagoner with some really nice electric guitar HERE. I do like this version, and beyond it being Dolly it is a great rollicking kind of thing.
Next we'll check out Bill Monroe and Doc Watson. If you know good music then you are familiar with these gentlemen. Listen HERE to their version, two masters of the musical form.
And finally the ladies that started all this, June Carter and her sisters HERE. If you aren't familiar with the Carter family that's a shame. Acquaint yourself as soon as is reasonable.
As always with the YouTube, I can't be held accountable for the quality of any of the videos. I found videos with good music, and really that's what we're here for, so play and enjoy.
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