who's bad?

I'm sitting here, headphones clamped tight, YouTube sharing a song with me. I may have bitched fairly recently about my inability to get YouTube to work on my computer because I was unable to download the newest version of the flash player. I've seen that damned tiny green puzzle piece much too often as of late.

I finally fixed the problem by upgrading the version of Ubuntu that I had and now have not only the newest version of Ubuntu but also a media player that allows me to do the musical thing I just said.

That means, as far as I'm concerned, that it's time to share. I haven't given you a video in much too long, so I will share something with you. It's a song that may or may not be about god, and being the good li'l agnostic I am I don't care.

With absolutely no more discussion by me I give you Black and Gold by Sam Sparro. Okay, there's a tiny bit of discussion because the video is actually not the video because Universal, being the corporate dipshits that they are would rather not share the music as much as they could. They have disabled embedding, so I'm forced to use something that's not the video. Honestly, the song is the thing I'm after, so the video can suck it as can Universal Moneygrubbing Group. I just want to share a song I like by an artist I'm growing to like as I hear more.

Hit the play button and minimize this window while you do something else. That's what I usually do, as videos are so seldom worth watching anyway.

need something to do?

We all know how much our homeschooled kids and friends love a good essay contest. I think many homeschoolers most love the essay contests in which they are not specifically mentioned as it allows them to feel put upon and gives them an excuse to boycott someone.

Never fear, because the essay contest I've just learned about is open to "home-school" kids even if the contest people don't know that we pretty much decided on homeschool as one word, not two and certainly not hyphenated. I may be wrong about that, but I do know what the consensus seems to be, and that's what I'm going with.

Hat tip to Good As You for noticing this one. High school age kids as well as college freshmen and sophomores may enter. The topic is the preservation of traditional families. Of course, when one sees the phrase "traditional family" one has to understand that what is meant is a very narrow view, a sort of fifties era Beaver Cleaver type family. We all know that those families exist, and often they live right next door to our own just as normal families.

I guess my own family is suddenly not real anymore. Momma and I, though we still share some expenses as well as a house and car, are no longer a valid family. I'd wager that we don't really even equal a family anymore. Perhaps eventually Momma will remarry and will then be okay again, but until I stop being gay, I'm probably not even a father anymore.

Anyway, having rambled and made less than no sense, HERE is a link to the contest page. The contest hosts are some group known as the Traditional Family Coalition. As mentioned, people who use words like "traditional" usually don't get that their tradition is a dream that never really existed, but they don't care. Their scriptural guide seems to tell them to lie when it furthers their agenda, so I'm sure I'm the one that's wrong.

thanks for that

The place I worked till recently is in the Old City, one of the oldest parts of our town, the place that was once known as the bowery, the place that was built on a swamp, the place that people from the west side of town think is full of whores and pickpockets and muggers and . . .

You get the picture.

I may be forgetting somewhere, but counting in my head I've come up with at least nine different restaurant/bars, though only one of them is my usual, my default, my watering hole. It's been a place that has been friendly to me over the years.

Rewind your calender to a mere few days ago when I was there, early in the evening, the only (and I do mean only) customer sitting at the bar. The place does decent business later at night, but I was there early. The only people besides me at the bar were the owner and the bartender.

I worked at this place for a couple of weeks before taking a better paying/more hours job at the place I worked till recently, and all of this really is part of the point. I really am going somewhere with this.

I quit this bar on decent terms, giving them a full two weeks notice, and the owner seemed pleased with my work. He and I, while not bosom buddies, have remained on fairly friendly terms. I stop when I see him, he stops, we chat for a moment, hail and farewell and all that shit.

So back to sitting solo at the bar, and I'm talking to the owner. He inquires about the job and how I like the place I left him for, and without giving it too much thought I give him my honest opinion.

-the place isn't being run well
-the owners don't really know what they are doing
-the son of one of the owners who does the day to day running of the business is a dumbass and doesn't quite pay attention to what he needs to be doing
-they neglect the many years of experience the kitchen staff has and choose to run the place poorly
-they won't be open a year from now
-the prices are much too high for the location
-they've priced themselves out of business
-they are resorting to some questionable specials in order to try to make money

That last one I will use as an example of what is so wrong with the place. Picture if you will a restaurant trying to be a slightly upscale version of a British pub. Now imagine if you will that they institute a "ladies night" to attempt to bring in business. Yeah, that kind of thing.

Apparently the ex-boss ran into my more new ex-boss at a city council meeting and, in front of any number of local bigwigs and wannabes, told him all that I said. New ex-boss decides to let me go, and he does it in a way in which one can certainly be proud. He took me off the schedule and then said absolutely nothing to me about it.

So how did I found out I'd been fired? After dropping Momma off at work this morning, as I was about to pull away from the place, I realized her phone had slipped out of her pocket. I turned the car off, walked inside to find her and decided to look at the schedule. I was not on it. I don't mean my name and schedule were crossed off, as usually happens when someone gets fired from a restaurant. They completely remade the schedule so that my name didn't even exist.

Several hours later an ex-coworker called to tell me that, indeed, I had been let go. It was then that I heard the story I just related. I was fired because one ex-boss ran his mouth and made a joke out of what I'd told him, me assuming some amount of something not unlike confidentiality. My new ex-boss was quite embarassed, or so I was told. In a rousing feat of standing up and being a man he had someone else do his dirty work and actually call me and speak to me personally.

The sad part, beyond that my newest ex-boss is what we often call a bitch, a friend with no reason to have to was the person to relay the news, a friend with enough issues of his own regarding this place, who has already been screwed over by my new ex-boss. Yeah, he had to start his day like that.

That's my story for the day. It isn't a pretty story, but, all things considered, what's one more weight piled onto me? I'm sure I can take more. I'm not broke enough.

And to the sorry ass that fired me, sorry Mr. N that your pride got hurt, but seriously, you have no more business running a restaurant than I have performing surgery.

quandary

This is something you may not know, but I sort of kind of hate my job. It should be a great place to work, and if it was the sort of place the owners intended it to be I would be proud and happy to work there.

The main problem in my humble opinion is that the owners are the sort of people who just shouldn't own a restaurant. The entirety of their experience in this industry is contained entirely in the few short months that they have been restaurateurs. Another way of looking at it is that they don't have a damn clue how to do this right, and they won't likely be open much longer.

As a quick aside, if you are familiar with Anthony Bourdain's books you may remember something he wrote about his own experiences with restaurant owners and his list of people who shouldn't own restaurants. My bosses should be on that list, and I'm sure they are at least somewhat represented.

Momma just texted me that I'm no longer scheduled to work tonight due to labor cost. This shouldn't be an issue because we should be busy enough in general, but we are not, so it is. My options now are to accept not working and the smaller check or to call a coworker and try to pick up a shift. Neither of those are really what I want. I don't want to have to work, but I'm already going to be missing one day on my check because I was sent home for being late.

I can see a bit of a pattern here, and I know from experience that I am within easy view of the end of my employment at this particular establishment. And this brings up another thought.

I feel and have felt as if cooking is pretty much all I know how to do. There have been other jobs in my short years working, but they were many years ago and not the sort of experience I could carry over into a new job. The depressing note here is that I feel more and more as if, though this is all I know how to do, I'm just not really that good at it. I'm not sure where this feeling comes from because I used to be different. I took great pride in my abilities, identified to a large extent as a cook. Add to all this the fact that I have so little to show for anything at my age, and it all starts to cloud over with a tinge of depression.

My life is changing so much and so randomly that sometimes I just don't know what to do. I don't know where to turn. I don't have a lot of confidence in myself right now. Don't get me started on my need for a car and a new place to live.

follow up

As I mentioned in my last post I have now come out to my family. There is one brother I have yet to hear from, but he is the brother whose first attempt bounced back to me. I found another email address for him, so hopefully he gets the news. I hate that any of them have to be the last to hear, but I suppose someone has to be.

I know that most of my brothers have gotten their email as all but the one have responded. I can't say I'm surprised by any of the reactions I got, and they were all at least slightly not unsupportive in a sense. They each did at least let me know that they still love me and that I can count on them should I need.

Given the nature of all of this, my homosexuality and their fairly right leaning christian beliefs, the responses were, as I've said, not really surprising. I've got a sister in law whose heart is breaking for us. I have two brothers who disagree with my "lifestyle" though I don't know that either of them used those words. One of the brothers has alerted me to the fact that I'll never be satisfied with fleshly pleasures and assured me that I know the truth or what I need to do or something along those lines. I'm sure what he means has everything to do with his religion and belief system.

While it's certainly a load off my shoulders to no longer have this secret, it isn't really making my life any easier in general. It isn't getting me a better job or a car or a place to live. It isn't going to make my hands any less stiff as the weather turns colder. It isn't going to put any food in my children's bellies. Maybe though the sun is a tiny bit brighter, the late blooming fall flowers a little more showy. Maybe it just seems that way because I've taken one more tiny progressive step toward finally being me. Now if I could just figure the rest of the me part out I'll be in good shape.

it's done

Part of me feels a little bad that I used email, but an even bigger part doesn't really quite care. Yes, I emailed my parents and then my brothers to come out to them.

Yes, I know. It does seem a little impersonal for this sort of thing. To them, I can only assume, this is sort of a big deal. This may be quite a blow. I've actually gotten some replies, and while none of them have yet been terribly supportive, they have at least extended their love and help.

And there's a big reason that I chose email. I have to admit that I don't know what any of them are really going to think, but having grown up in the religion most of them still believe I think I have some small reason to believe I can assume some small amount of which direction most of them might go with this.

My memory isn't quite good enough to remember exactly when it was that I first started to think there was some chance I might be gay. It wasn't too long after that before I really began to accept it. And then for whatever reasons I still can't quite figure out I began to pretend I wasn't gay and began the several years of misery that living in the closet is.

There's yet another reason I chose email, that I feel I've spent enough time, somewhere in the vicinity of twenty years, dealing with this. Even five minutes of negativity or even just simple disagreement is more than I'm willing to deal with.

I don't want to be rude to my family, regardless of their beliefs, regardless of how they now choose to view me. At the same time I'm not going to change because of anything they say. I'm not going to suddenly not be gay. I'm not going to let anyone make me feel bad about this, becaue I've already done that. I've already felt bad enough trying not to be gay, and now that I'm finally accepting it, I don't care if others do or don't, but I'm not going to let anyone add to the misery I've already inflicted on myself.

So that is what I did this weekend. It's done and out of the way. Hopefully no more emails bounce so that I don't have to resend the damn thing. I did save it as a draft just in case and because I didn't want to have to write yet another version. I've already written two different versions, one to send the parents and the second for the brothers. Just getting those two versions written was a giant pain in the ass of over editing as I'm a bit anal and am never happy with the first or even the second or third version of anything I do.

How was your weekend?

wow, these updates sure are BS

I thought I was finally starting to get back to blogging, back to bothering people with things, and I really felt like it was going to happen. If anything over the past week, this is what probably drove me the most crazy.

Our computer has been slowly dying, likely caused by something malicious that got inside, or so we think. Windows was working really poorly, and online was pure hell as we found ourselves with speeds rivalling the quickest dial up connections.

We have a friend who claims to know stuff about computers and works doing stuff with them, and he volunteered to give it a look to see if he could help. The plan was for him to take the hard drive and save all the folders we actually wanted to his clean hard drive. That apparently was not possible, so he gave the hard drive back. He was nice enough to alert us to the likelihood that our computer is fucked.

It is now back in the computer, and I'm using an Ubuntu disk I burned and even wrote about some time back. It's working just fine, but I can only run the operating system from the disk.

And that's my story. I checked my email once this past week. I haven't looked at my reader at all. I checked Myspace the day I checked my email. It's kind of nice having the computer back.

All of that to say that, on some level, I really am back, even if I disappear entirely, unless I'm not. That would be something different altogether.

cosillas de borega

Almost in the very middle of the back of my left hand is a little bit of a scar, a crescent moon in red indenting my skin about an inch below the second knuckle. It's not even really noticeable, I assume, to the casual observer. That happened when I smacked the back of my hand into the fish cart.

We have a cart roughly one foot by three feet, maybe four feet tall. It's on wheels and has three shelves and lives during service next to the door between the kitchen and the dish room. It holds the fish, tomatoes and onions that are the fry station's output as well as the requisite flour, panko, corn meal and egg wash.

Rushing through the kitchen one night, not accounting for the fish cart being moved to the opposite side of the doorway next to which it lives, my arm's usual swing brought my hand into the end of the fish cart with some amount of force. I was concerned for the rest of the night that I'd broken a couple of the bones because it hurt so much. The skin was a broken a bit, and the sign of that ordeal is the tiny scar that will probably fade eventually.

While Frenching racks of lamb recently, paring knife in my right hand, lamb in my left, I found the paring knife dragging its point across my second finger. It's barely a cut, just enough to get a couple of grains of salt and maybe a bit of black pepper in while salting the chips. It didn't bleed even, though the blood from the lamb made it hard to be sure until after I'd washed my hands. The sad part of that is that I nearly cut myself a second time before finishing that job.

There are a couple of burns on my right hand, though none are fresh. They are currently slowly fading pink spots, barely reminders that, indeed, the oven is in fact hot. The most sore thing on my right hand would be the knife callous.

At the base of my index finger, on the inside, is the callous where the back of my knife blade rests. It's a healthy little fucker until you work with something really wet or really firm. Wet soaks in and softens the skin sometimes, and the callous wants to escape and peel away.

Firm foods have a different effect. Perhaps you need to dice half a bag of parsnips. It's almost as if the dull back of the knife is doing its own slow cut into the callous as you slice the parsnip. It's also not unlike the callous is getting spread around like cool butter, mashed and forced across the bread that is my finger. The callous generally rights itself soon enough, but it's certainly a fun little friend halfway through the bag.

If you like callous stories then consider the ring I wear on my right ring finger and that same knife. Of course any ring you wear all the time will form some amount of callous, but press the handle of a knife into that hand for a large percentage of your work day. At least you don't feel the pinching as much when it finally forms a callous. Some days however, the ring and callous, for whatever reason, don't quite align. The blister you don't realize you have is a thoughtful reminder.

And don't get me started on the fact that I can't manage not to hit my head on certain things. Don't get into the fact that I have three tiny (seriously not visible two days later tiny) cuts on my hand from falling ice. Ignore the twinge in my back from the slick spot which I slipped in but did not actually fall all the way down, opting instead for a graceless half spin/twist movement that I'm not really capable of making. I'll also ignore the recurring foot pain for which I can discern nor remember any cause whatsoever even considering several years past. Perhaps it's the cheap Sears boots, but I don't really think so.

I'll leave you with that, my litany of nearly woes. None of these are really that great or horrid a source of pain. They are as described, just tiny little motes that don't really warrant complaint. None of them are bothering me at the moment other than the cut on my finger, and it's not really even bothering me so much as it is sort of asserting itself to be noticed almost. The only scab on either hand is one whose cause I don't even remember, a scab I absentmindedly picked off at some point earlier tonight. All of this I have now milked unabashedly, forcing a blog post from where there was none. Even I can't believe I'd stoop so low, but what's done is done. The cat is for real out of the bag.

it isn't really early

I may be expert in little else, but I'm at least pretty darn good at explaining away why I don't post more often. I was so regular a blogger at one point. I had decent stats (decent enough for me) and the occasional comment. Life was good in the world of my own little corner of blogland.

Then things got crazy. Momma did some things and I came out and then there was the depression and then the sun came out and reminded me that life, like a mountain range, is not a series of peak so much as it is a bunch of wrinkles with peaks and valleys, hills, dales and hollers even.

I should tell you about the boyfriend, though the new why-I-don't-post-more excuse is a little about him. He knows about the blog and has read some of it, but all of what he's seen was really before his arrival on the scene, and though he knows, I haven't really discussed it with him. I haven't talked about how he's going to figure in the blog. He's going to have to.

He wasted no time in becoming a huge part of my life, and I wasted no time in falling madly for him. He has tattoos and piercings and ear holes much bigger than mine. He's slightly younger and has been out since high school. My children adore him. If all his coolness hadn't won me over, then I was certainly done when he went to the fair with us and rode kiddy rides with me and The Boy. Or maybe I was hooked the first time I saw him laying in the floor with Big Brother and The Boy building with Legos.

So there he is, though that doesn't come close to describing him. And now I need a name, something to maintain that air of privacy that I've taken pains not to bother that much with. Yes, I do know how easy it is to figure out who I am, but I can still pretend some amount of anonymity. To further reduce any chances of remaining anonymous I may just post a picture, though the pictures of him and me are all really gay to be honest.

And finally, let's not forget Momma. She loves my boyfriend too which really helps. She's seeing someone as well, but he keeps being busy with some sort of schooling/test thing. He needs to take the damn test already, but that's not really even a little my business. He seems cool enough, though I haven't really hung out with him that much. I did think briefly about giving him the typical guy speech wherein I threaten his well being with violence should he ever be anything but the absolute most wonderful person to Momma, but that's a little redneck for me, so I'll probably not.

This is possibly slightly more update than the last time I didn't update, but it also isn't.

She served me up a softball, threw me the easiest of bones, and I failed for over ten days to craft my response. Sadly, I've failed to blog often enough that I may actually be forgetting how to type. My WPM is lower than frog balls.

First we thanks Molly for the meme tag, because even though I sat on it for over a week, I am using the post fodder she gave me. I'm going to answer the questions, though I won't post or follow the rules. It doesn't seem right to tag others when I've been so lax in posting myself.

So on with the questions. I'm given the option of changing any quesions I want, but along with not posting or following the rules I'm going to not give myself the option of making it easier for me.

1. How many songs are on your ipod?
I don't have an ipod, but I do use itunes when I listen to music using my computer, and for me that's close enough. I'd love an ipod, but I'm not yet willing to pay for one myself. Since I do have isomething I'll admit that I have 1072 songs in itunes, and that translates to 2.4 days of music. That's somehow different though mostly the same.

2. What music would you want played at your funeral?
I don't know. I'd much prefer that the people at my funeral after party would listen to music that helped them remember good things about me, but more importantly for my funeral is the full body bong I want my funeral attendees to be sucking at.

Full body bong equals having a pothead taxidermist make my body into a bong. Believe me, I've thought of this, and here's the proof. You will hit me (suck the intoxicating smoke) through my mouth. The head of my erect penis will be the bowl (the place you put the pot.) The carb (the part that, when released, allows outside air to force the intoxicating fumes into your ready face) will be my butthole, properly sealed with your thumb until you are ready to inhale the sweet reefer.

I really do want the full body bong to happen. I've dreamed and schemed of this for many years. Please promise that you will smoke weed through me if you are able. Also please wait till I'm dead.

3. What magazines do you have subscriptions to?
At one time Popular Science, National Geographic, but sadly I believe we've let them run out. There were more at one time, but the other ones were allowed to run out. I don't even remember anymore, and that seems sad. We really did used to get a couple of good magazines.

4. What is your favorite scent?
There are a few. Roasting meat and vanilla are a couple of food based scents. There's a certain combination of cow, landfill and wastewater treatment that smells like the place I grew up. There's a certain musky something that guys' balls get that drives me crazy. But perhaps my favorite scent is old books and old pages.

5. If you had a million dollars that you could only spend on yourself what would you do?
I'd buy myself a car and a restaurant and then I'd travel somewhere with my favorite boys. I'd buy up a bunch of cd's I've wanted as well and probably a new pair of black leather Converse.

6. What is your theme song?


7. Do you trust easily?
I do, and I get fucked over pretty easily. I also have great things happen pretty easily when I can stop not trusting long enough to get fucked over. It's a fine line between gullible and cynical with more good than not when it happens.

8. Do you generally act before you think or think before you act?
I feel as if I'm doomed to act first and think/question later, but I'm also more than likely to put way too much thought into anything I stumble across.

9. Is there anything that has made you unhappy these days?
Smallish petty things are messing with me differently these day. Not seeing a certain cute boy is not fun. My job isn't the worst thing I've dealt with even when it seems like it. I could make lists of how not bad it is or how bad it isn't, but it still isn't and is respectively.

10. Do you have a good body image?
I'm realizing lately that I just might have a body image. I don't know how much that concept has really occurred to me in the past. I think I'm okay, but my problem isn't my body so much as it is that I just don't do shit to be more healthy. Maybe I do have a skewed body image.

11. Is being tagged fun?
It really is. It's proof that at least one person you sort of know thinks you suck at least a little less than you feel you do.

12. How do you spend your social networking (i.e. Facebook, etc.) time?
My Myspace account is basically for anyone who knows me and is a place I'm out. I usually just skim a couple of bulletins, maybe check out some bands, try to keep in touch with friends who aren't as close as I'd like.

Facebook is a place where I'm not yet out and is filled with family (with whom I'm also not out) a couple of blog friends and lately lots of old friends from the christian school at which I spent my younger years.

13. What have you been seriously addicted to lately?
There are no new addictions to speak of, though I've been on a bit of an energy drink bender if a bit of a tiny bender. It's all because I've suddenly not gotten as much sleep as I was, and when you consider how little sleep I get anyway. I don't generally like the nasty flavor of energy drinks, so it was nice to see that they are being made in coffee like flavors. So far, Monster Java is my favorite with Rockstar being the least.

14. What kind of person do you think the person who tagged you is?
Molly? She makes pretty babies, and she writes. She talks about red wine once in a while, though I'm personally a beer and tequila type. I'm sure she's funny and often self deprecating. She seems like an all 'round swell gal, and I'm never wrong about this sort of thing. Never!

15. What was the last song that got stuck in your head?
Right now there's a snippet of bluegrass, but I can't remember enough of the song to call it stuck in my head. Webb Peirce's Slowly and/or Wondering are the two that get stuck in my head most often lately.

16. What are your favorite items of clothing?
Probably my jeans because they are so comfortable. As it's beginning to be cooler, especially at night, I can wear another favorite, an Old Navy fleece jacket, mostly black with gray shoulders and gray stripes down the sleeves. The gray and black are separated by a bit of white something I don't know the name of. They aren't clothes as such, but I have a new to me pair of ear rings that I "stole" from the boyfriend. They are bigger than my old earrings increasing my ear hole size up a gauge to four and reminding me that, once upon a time, I was going to stretch the bastards. That was the original plan, but I fell in love with a pair of six gauge captive ball hoops and couldn't stand to part with them. I recently remembered the stretching and decided it was time.

17. Do you think Rice Krispies are yummy?
I must say that I don't. They may be second only to puffed wheat in terms of unpleasant cereals. I might pick them over Fruity Pebbles or anything with those dried up little marshmallow turds, but that doesn't really say much for the Rice Krispies.

18. What would you do if you saw $100 lying on the ground?
Maybe buy some weed, but certainly I'd buy some nice beer for the house, and most importantly I'd do something nice for or with the boyfriend.

19. What items could you not go without during the day?
I'm trying like hell not to answer this question with cigarettes, but that may be the single thing I really "can't" do without. The sweet answer involves my phone and texts from a certain cute boy I know, but his phone was off for a couple days, and the one way texts from me didn't kill me, so, though I'd prefer not, I suppose I can live without.

20. What should you be doing right now?
I've got my coffee, and there's a load of pants in the washing machine. Momma is at work and all my favorite boys are sleeping. There's not much I should be doing that I'm not right now. Oh, sure, I could be making breakfast to surprise all those favorite boys, or I could be cleaning something around the house. I could go so far as to . . . no . . . I'm doing what I should at the moment.

Because Molly ended her meme post with a video I feel it's only fair that I do the same. The problem here is that I'm just not sure what or who. The only band/song that really comes to mind is Los Straitjackets' Tempest. I hope you like rockabilly and luchador masks, 'cuz they are the shit, and so is this.

more or less still not an update

This is so the wrong time to try to write a blog post, mostly because I'm supposed to be getting ready for work, but it's been an entire week since the last time I didn't really give you an update, so I'm using this wrong time to attempt to not not do so again. Also, I have to wait for a chef's coat to dry, and I can't do shit till then anyway.

I'm not looking at the calendar or doing the math in my head, so I will have to be vague with the timeline. I met a really cool guy between three and four weeks ago. A mutual friend had invited Momma and me and the boys to her house for a wee bit of a party. She also invited the cool guy to whom I've referred.

We seemed to hit it off pretty much immediately, though it may have actually taken a couple more minutes than that. I ended the night at his apartment (up the hill from the friend's party in the same apartment complex) to enjoy a certain combustible intoxicant. As I left, he walked me to the outside door of the building for an awkward moment of are we going to hug and kiss or just hug or just hit our heads together trying to make sense.

Fast forward a week from that night, the cute boy and I have at this time spent nearly every night hanging out together. There's some certain something that neither of us can deny or avoid, and he points this out and asks if I'd like to be his boyfriend.

Thankfully there wasn't a lot of traffic as we were driving when he asked this. Momma, at the time, felt as if things were moving a little quickly. I quite agreed, to an extent, but I tried to help her understand that it wasn't a bad quickly. It does indeed seem quick, but there's that undeniable and also unexplainable something.

Since then we've hung out nearly every night. He lays in the floor with my kids and builds Lego cities. They sprawl on the sofa and watch cartoons. He went to the fair with us, and while Momma and Big Brother wandered toward some of the bigger rides, he hung out with The Boy and me and even rode some of the kiddie rides with us. He even took me and the boys out to dinner last night for a late birthday dinner for me. Even Momma likes him and enjoys hanging out with him.

Oh, and he's given me flowers on two different occasions, though one of those occasions the flowers were perhaps not legally attained.

Momma has also very recently befriended a cute boy of her own. My own cute boyfriend and I have discussed him briefly and have decided that he is okay. We'll see where that goes and hope for the best.

Now you know the newest reason I'm having trouble getting to the computer. As more proof of the little time I have lately my unread Google reader items are now approaching the five hundred mark which for me is nearly twice the old record. I keep trying to check in, and I certainly miss all the blogs I love. Perhaps soon the whirlwind will slow down a tiny bit, and I can get back to some of the old drudge I miss.

more not not an update

It hasn't been that long that I actually had Blogger open and looked at how long it had been since I'd posted. I found myself posting so sporadically, and I felt as if each post was at least slightly whinier than the previous post, and I think I subconsciously forced myself to quit posting for a while.

Things have gotten better for me in general, and I'm once more gaining some sense of life not having some sort of grudge against me. The universe doesn't hate me any more than it hates anyone else. Life has a way of doing stuff, and sometimes that stuff is better than other times. Sometimes it matters what you do, while other times it doesn't. The ol' weltschmerz just aint what she used to be.

At the same time, just as I seem to have found something, Momma finds herself thinking about things she hadn't considered quite as she suddenly is. It's all really more than I'll get into at the moment, but it does add fuel to whatever is going on, adding to the weirdness that our family has become lately. It's a good weird, and we are working to maintain good weirdness given that some amount of weird is inherent in our situation.

And now I've got supper cooking. Momma made a roast with the requisite vegetables. I in turn have taken those leftovers and am turning them into beef stew. It's bubbling away happily and I'm returning to a blog post I actually began yesterday. It still says what I'm willing to give away right now, and that's fine.

I'm sure I've claimed numerous times lately that I was going to attend to this blog more often than has been my habit lately. It's something I really miss, but as I've said, I was at a point where the blog was the last thing I needed bothering me.

The road to some bad place is paved with the very best intentions as we all well know, so any claims toward more blogging should be taken with the very best grain of the very coarsest of sea salts.

busy-ness

There are so many things in Google reader because I haven't checked it in a couple of days. I honestly haven't had time, and given how easily I get sucked into the computer, for me not to have time means I must have been very busy. Given the whirlwind that last week was in general and add to that a weekend of roller derby and I'm surprised there are as few things there as there are.

Speaking of roller derby, the team from the western end of the state won all their bouts while the team from the eastern end of the state won only one. The team from the middle of the state lost both their A team bouts, but they won against a team of mostly rookies from the eastern end combined with some skaters from the northeast corner who don't quite have enough skaters to form a team, essentially rookies.

A scrimmage bout that was part of the weekend saw me cheering on some girls I'd only cheered against as well as sitting and cheering with some girls I'd only cheered against. As part of the weekend we had several scrimmage games with the teams made up of a mixture of girls from all teams. We had tattooed girls versus clean slates, for example, but the game I cheered the most was gay versus straight. I think you can imagine who I cheered for, and when family won I declared it a moment of proof of gay cultural superiority, whether or not it really was.

To my credit, I drank a lot less this weekend that I would have in the past. For some reason, hanging out with a hot boy who just doesn't drink anywhere close to what I do has prodded me toward drinking less. That's so not a bad thing and one more reason to like this new boy.

And speaking of that, he's the other reason I've been a bit busy this past week. At some point I'm assuming we can all settle into some reasonable pattern, but just now I sort of like being caught up in all of this. It's a great kind of crazy.

aggravation

The neighbor who hates my grass is calling the city again, or so I assume, and I don't know exactly which neighbor, though I have an idea. This time there's a twist.

Momma's grandfather got a letter very recently saying that he had till tomorrow to mow the grass. It's been mowed, though it did once again grow over long because, once again, the mower didn't want to work.

Grandfather came over recently and got the mower working and the next day was on his way to Texas to visit family. The letter from the city had to have arrived at his house during the time he was away, and by the time he got to it, his ten days to rectify the situation had become two.

The grass is mowed and should be short enough, but he's convinced that he needs to mow it more. And that's just what he is doing. Momma tried to explain to him that we will happily mow again, but he insisted that he had to come mow. I took Momma to work, and now, when I should be adding a couple hours to the couple hours of sleep I got, I'm sitting here not sleeping and not doing shit else.

I only got two hours of sleep because I went to visit a boy after work last night. Nothing happened but lots of talking. I didn't even drink beer. None of that's the point, but it is why I need to be asleep right now and why I got only two hours of the precious stuff.

There are a few maintenance issues that we've overlooked around the house, things that very much need to be taken care of as well as some minor issues that are really more aesthetic. The grass is the main irritant in that I just don't care. There, I've said it. I really don't care about the grass. I'm more than willing to keep it short enough for the kids to be able to play, but the very back part where the rabbits live, well I'd just as soon let that part grow a little. It's not hurting anyone for my grass to be slightly longer than theirs.

There's the big pisser for me, that someone has so little to do that they can take the time to be upset that I'm less concerned about the appearance of my yard than they are. Someone who doesn't have to live my life or raise my children or whatever is forcing their ideals of proper lawn maintenance onto me. And yes I do realize that there are other concerns and that I'm somewhat simplifying the issue. Trust me, I don't give a shit.

switching lanes

In derby related news we have a story that isn't nearly as new as it could be. My own place in the beautiful thing that is Hard Knox Roller Girls is changing. I've considered some different options lately, trying to decide what or even if I wanted in terms of derby.

Announcing derby has been fun, and I'm glad I got to do it. It will be interesting to see what the new guys have to say. I hope they take the time to think about it. I hope they know the game and can help people understand and appreciate derby. I think fan's ability to get the game is so important in making derby something that will be around.

Instead of a microphone I get a microphone and a camera. I get the camera either tonight or tomorrow or Wednesday. There's old(srsly old) bout footage on it now. The person who has the camera is uploading it and will get it to me tonight if it's done in time for the meeting at which she'll see and give it to Momma. If not then the camera may or may not show up by tomorrow, and if it's not, Wednesday is the key day. I have to figure out how to operate it, and with my techno slow style that takes time.

Also I have to figure out what I'm gonna do. I get a camera and get to walk around making video. We're going to post what I record on YouTube and possibly on the local version KnoxTube. There are much more professional people concerned with getting bout footage, so my job will be to find things worth watching, interview skaters and family and fans and refs. I hope it doesn't suck, and I hope the sound of my voice doesn't make me any more mental than I already am lately.

Whatever happens I'll try to post as I know more.

aaahhh Paris

Isn't it amazing how the least little thing can elevate one's opinion of another? Take the pointlessly famous Paris Hilton for example. Only in the US can someone so seemingly vapid actually find that she has a chance at the White House. Okay, not really, but when John McCain decided to use her in an ad, she fought back with her own ad, presented below. I might have to vote for her instead.

See more Paris Hilton videos at Funny or Die

Just for the heckuvit I'm sticking a video in here. A friend of mine likes to spend his days searching music on YouTube so that he can send thousands of Myspace bulletins per day(okay, maybe just several-ish) containing those same videos. Much of my Myspace time is spent opening then ignoring his bulletins as I just don't have time in my life for the doom filled black metal he too often enjoys.

One of today's video offerings was New Bomb Turks Leaving Town

As soon as the song began playing, okay after the little piano sort of sound, The Boy immediately began dancing. The thought suddenly occurred that the friend responsible would enjoy seeing what his video offering had caused. I filmed The Boy, nearly thirty seconds worth, and now I share with you.

finally

Remember this post from just over a week ago in which I complained about a pain in my chest from hanging halfway into the bath tub so I could wash my hair? If you don't remember feel free to go back and look. It's easily one of my more recent posts. Seriously.

Okay, the point here is the picture of the hair. I swore then something about cutting it, and I finally did. It's not as short as I originally thought I might go, but it's also not bad.

Yes, I also agree that this isn't the greatest picture. I took it myself, and this is the best of the four. The only one that doesn't have the light in the background is also the very worst one of the four, and this is the one in which you can best see the hair while also best seeing me in a somewhat less than greenish cast.

Also, please do not point out that the haircut gives me a certain big nosed Shirley Temple quality without the dancing or being annoying. I too have eyes.

tears and questions

My family has a message board that we use to keep in contact with each other, and if you know my family then you also know that they are Christian. I no longer claim any religion and in fact am quite agnostic in my lack of beliefs. Knowing this it should come as no surprise that I don't really believe in prayer. Sometimes however it doesn't hurt to ask for it anyway, so I'm posting my prayer request to my family here, though I'll add a bit at the end to help explain yet another reason that this has touched so many lives.

Sunday morning at Tennessee Valley Unitarian Universalist Church the main service was a play being performed by children. In addition to church members, several non member families with children were in attendance. A man entered the church with a shotgun and began shooting later revealing that his initial plan had been to shoot as many people as could before the police arrived and killed him.

Two men were able to subdue the gunman while other people were able to lead the children away to another church next door.

We have many friends who are members at this church and who were in attendance. We've also used some of the church facilities for homeschool meetings, bad weather days, potlucks, etc.

Everyone involved needs prayers at this time including the gunman as well as so many random people in this town. So many people who are not members of this church know and have friends who do attend. This church has quite a reach so that so many people have been affected without being directly involved.

Because it doesn't really have a place in my family's message board I didn't add that the shooter's motivation in picking this church had to do with the liberal leanings as well as the openness to and acceptance of the gay community. This is why it touches so many people, because this church is such a presence in our community in fighting for social justice, acceptance and equality.

Again, I'm not a person who prays or tends to believe in prayer, but if ever a community needs it I think now is that time.

This post is also posted HERE at my other blog.

get mom out cuz she like totally needs to get some

Below find the newest spam message I've recieved via Myspace. It's a new one on me. I love the way the writer/sender starts out, complementing my weapon grade eyes, but they what follows is sort of a dick-in-the-dirt kind of let down.

Heya there! Do you carry another weapon with you besides your eyes?

Well, I know, it's sweet. You'll have a great time but not with me, I'm just helping my mother find a nice guy to date. She's entirely new to online dating. So don..t be shy and write her back, but not directly to this address. Instead, send your reply to her e-mail address at perettefmarie at yahoo. I'm positively sure that you will enjoy talking with her. She's easy-going, friendly, loyal, outgoing, funny, smart and kickass. She enjoys relaxing, she loves listening to music from iTunes, trying new exotic recipes, reading, painting � she's very talented and when she has time, she likes taking leisurely bicycle rides around town. She loves guys who are smart, charming and adventurous. Surprise her with chocolate or with some flowers, she'd really be pleased with that!

I hope you write back, ask her for pictures. She's beautiful. I havta run, thanks for your time btw! Bye.

Yeah, that's awesome and totally the sort of thing that's going to lift someone's soul and let it fly free in a rain of joy and love and good feelingness. The ol' switcheroo. The ol' you're-cute-meet-my-mom. Yeah, just what one needs on a Sunday morning.

I actually slipped away from Myspace for a moment to post this, leaving another message that I was sure was spam, knowing I'd go and flag it as soon as I posted my funny. Wouldn't you know the next spam message was nearly the same thing. The message was worded differently, but it was the same. It began with the same claims toward my beauty and hawtness, but very quickly we get the bait and switch and it's all about getting mom a man. The mother in the secong message enjoys wine and tequila, so maybe I should . . . or likely . . . yeah, let's go with no.