Been A While

Let's see if I can catch you up a bit.

Recent lunar eclipse. Big moon, little shadow, horizon and sun killed it on the east coast early.

My sister has been mad at me since I don't return her phone calls. Of course she's been "speed dialing" a wrong number, leaving messages there and yelling at whoever answers to put me on and tells them to stop playing. This stems from multiple times when she has called the correct number and my friends have answered pretending to be me, while I laugh in the background and don't speak to her anyway. Now she has my proper number in her "speed dialer", so let the games begin again - only this time with me playing the game instead of a stranger.

Idiots sitting in a circle playing instruments, singing with their buds is fine. Singing Viva Viagra with your buds is a shame. If friends of mine would break out in a chorus of Viva Viagra during a shed (when musicians jam together), I would be obliged to first, hose them down, then render them unconscious and smash their instrument. Viva Intolerance.

McLovin ... oh yeah! Superbad ... what's with the constant foul language and genitalia references all the way through? Without McLovin, Superbad is badly in need of super. My impression of the movie may also have been influenced by my small popcorn, medium drink and barely cooked hot dog that set me back $14.50!!! Plus my favorite one armed ticket booth cashier at the theater died in her sleep last week. The notice was taped to the window.

When I get sleepy - I go to bed. Crazy, I know, but that's the way I roll. Phone rings when I'm asleep, I don't hear it. Knocking at the door when I'm asleep, I don't hear it. Come in the room and talk to me when I'm asleep, I may speak, but it will be gibberish, unrelated to your topic, and I won't remember. Now that I have set the scene, Helen got stuck on the road last night and continued to call my cell and house phones. Being asleep, I did not hear the rings or answer them. I am a guilty, rested, bad man.

Dee-Lish

I am told that when I was a wee lad, prior to walking or speaking, my current size was perhaps predetermined by my early interests.

Apparently left unattended for a moment at the kitchen table (my mother turned her head away while holding me), I reached out, procured and ingested a stick of butter. I do not recall the incident, being only a few months old, but I wish it could have been battered and deep fried with bacon wrapped around it dipped in a gentle sugary glaze with jimmies.

Do these pants make me look fat?

Man of The Sea

After much resistance through the years I have finally made a major decision that embraces my near senior citizen status. Being fully aware of the consequences, I have joined generations passed with the indulgence of, and now full time use, of Old Spice original scent deodorant.

As I walk amongst ... people ... women will smile as they fondly remember their grandpop's presence and memories of father's day gifts to daddy as he splashed some on after a shave, proudly showing his appreciation for their thoughtfulness on his special day, while men will continue to think of me as the Gortan's Fisherman and fish sticks as they don't put the correct reference together. A sailor is a sailor, a senior is a senior, and I am now to become both, properly and fully prepared.

Ahoy.

Literary Endeavors

I'm excited to announce my new book in response to O.J.'s literary contribution. Expect it in stores soon! The title is, "If I Bought It". The content is a fictional account of events that would play out if I really were a hole for excrement and purchased O.J.'s book.

I also have plans for a sequel "If I Met Him" which will be scheduled for release after my arraignment.

White Light, Black Rain

Just watched this documentary on HBO featuring interviews with victims from atomic bomb blasts in Japan. Besides the countless images and spoken words, all heart wrenching and infuriating, a phrase stands out in my mind:

"There are two types of courage. The courage to die ... and the courage to live."

I've been wondering, what choices are for those without courage?

Escalating

I have to tell you, after all of these years, people STILL have troubles negotiating the ever popular mainstay I like to refer to as the escalator. Step on, the moving stairs take you up or down without any effort on your part. Reach your destination, step off, ride is over so be on your merry way.

Seems easy.

Why is it that some folks come to a dead stop when they reach the end? The stairs are still moving behind you. Other people are being delivered to the very same spot you are now occupying. Do the right thing. Do the courteous thing. Do the smart thing. Step aside and get out of the way when you reach the landing or I am going to smash you with much pent up rage and the intent of seeing how far I can make you fly. I have always been interested in the flight of man and their packages.

If you are scared to use them, don't. The alternatives are walking your big lazy lump on non-moving regular stationary stairs, taking an elevator or getting carried by someone willing. If you can't time your entry onto a moving stair, I know you can certainly step away. If traveling from one level to another is too challenging for you, plan around it and stay on one floor. If you are too large to comfortably and safely use the escalator, what are you doing at the mall? Get away from the food court, you are blocking MY arteries as well.

The mall. I'll save that for another rant. I should probably not leave the house anymore.

Would I gain with Rogain?

Back in the day I was a tight elastic high sock wearing maniac with pants that hugged me equally as aggressive. You'd think someone would have alerted me to the dangers of my fashion choice at the time, but those surrounding me chose to remain silent while friends and strangers alike took in the view with nary a caution.

Today, resultant of this past behavior, the hair on my legs is sparse.

I know I was not alone in the seventies, boldly strutting with fabrics pasted to my very skin, abrasively wearing away at the follicles of my manly leg hair, but I seem to be the only one showing any evidence of this earlier folly.

Women might envy me because I am smooth without shaving while men might mock me because I am smooth without shaving. Either way the fact remains, I am smooth without shaving.

I wonder if Rogaine works on other parts beyond the noggin? Imagine the possibilities. Stripes of fur across your knuckles, a REAL wolf man costume for that full moon frolic, circus performing in the summertime, your very own built-in goat boots for the winter! Forget the top of my head - get the spatula!

I wonder if they sell it by the barrel?