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Showing posts from April, 2017
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100 Days into this nightmare
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Short Shelf Lives for Short Attention Spans

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The year is 1989, I am ten… It’s September, and school has been back in for roughly 4-5 weeks.  It is still technically summer, so my brother and I are making good on having learned to cut grass and my granny soliciting our services.  In late-80s money, this is still only $10 a yard to split between us and cover supplies, but it is money.  To 5th graders, a few yards on a Saturday is AMAZING money, plenty enough for candy and soda until the following weekend.
     Established here is that we were kind of getting our own money and as word spread about the neighborhood, we had plenty of clientele.  More than candy and sodas from the store without being beholden to my mom’s “we’ll see” (<-- 2="" a="" about="" and="" be="" before="" could="" i="" it="" later="" learn="" left="" ll="" maybe="" more="" nbsp="" nice="" no=&…
1,364 Days

True Story© The Roller Coaster

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My life is a weird set of ups and downs…
For the sake of that sentence, by “my life,” I mean “my weight.”  I seem to be on this odd cycle where I will decide to get to it and lose several pounds, then something catastrophic will happen and I stop even bothering for a couple of years and gain the whole 50 back.
My last “gain” phase almost took me to the upper room.  Apparently putting on this time sent my blood pressure to a level that my then-current medication regimen wasn’t on board with and, then a bout of bronchitis made it all worst and next thing you know I am speaking to a cardiologist trying to convince me to spend a weekend in the hospital due to congestive heart failure.
I was 306 pounds that morning, 35ish more than expected walking in and a full 55 more than my “norm.”
I was mobile enough to get to and from my car, care for my kid and not miss a minute of work, so the man couldn’t FORCE me to the ER.  He did change up my meds aggressively to get the fluid off of me and down…
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Smoke up (while the law allows)!

True Story© Sweet Beautiful Silence

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Silence is golden.
Duct tape is silver, and therefore the only known way to turn silver into gold, but that is another story for another time.
     I don’t argue, I don’t yell or get hostile or my ass all on my shoulders in needless stupid confrontation.  Not that I lack either the words or necessary hand skills to handle such things, they’re just not my thing.  I will act in defense of self or anyone I have tasked myself with defending, but I am otherwise quiet and as unassuming as anyone with my sneakers, wristwatch and tattoos can expect to be seen as.  That said, people expect more noise out of me than they ever actually get.  Well to be honest, more than they ever actually really want.

Unrelated to the above is a little story that I have never even told anyone I have dated since it happened.
Pack a lunch, this one is going long. The year is 2005 (2006 maybe?).  I met this girl who will not be named on this page.  She approached me, later telling me that it was because she though…
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True Story© Life at the Drawing Board

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I write…
     I know, if you’re reading this now, you have likely been here for a great many of the past 7 and one half months of Thursdays and already knew this fact.  I am apparently pretty decent at this “fictional creativity” thing.  It is a nerve I have been actively scratching for over 10 years, verifiable from the blog attached to a MySpace account I have not logged into in years and continued right here on this one.  It has manifest one unpublished novel and dozens upon dozens of short stories.  One could go as far as to say that it is a dream job of mine that I have never managed to bring to fruition.
     I am also an asshole…
I will have an idea for something and my sense of humor will send the whole thing on a hard fast left and I find myself in a spot that I might not have INTENDED to be in, but have to deal with culpability for creating for myself.
I was once contacted in response to one of my stories about possibly writing commercials for various brands…  “Shit!  This is …
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True Story© Punitive Misinformation

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Being that I work in Tech Support, I am in position to answer WILDLY dumb questions.  Wait, let me pull back a second.  I won’t call them dumb, but the fact remains that from time to time the questions and problems presented come out in a manner where even the person who asked it has to back up like “damn, I shouldn’t have asked that.”
But they don’t…  The fact of the matter is that they’re fully justified in their not knowing of shit that they SHOULD know to do the simplest tasks of their job and need it to be someone else’s problem often.
     But it pays the bills, so I sit at my desk with my music and do this shit. When I leave, though?  I have no patience for stupid or poorly-thought-out questions, and because no one is paying me to answer them, I often present enough snark and on-purpose misinformation to properly punish the insolent for the misgivings.
This is especially fun on the first of every month ever since I decided to declare the first “[Month] fools day,” not leavin…
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