Filthy dirty filthy

When I was growing up I was taught to bathe, wash my hands after using the bathroom, throw old food in the trash, scrub the floor from time to time etc...

Really a no brainer for me. Dirty things smell bad, attract bugs and aren't pleasant to look at or be around. I keep my house orderly...not perfect by any means for the most part tidy.

I met one of my future best friends in 7th grade. Gary was an asshole. He was a smart and funny asshole. As long as I wasn't his target, it was enjoyable to watch him at work humiliating jocks and bullies, making teachers cry...yes he was that good.

Not many other people could see the good in him, so I became one of his small group of friends. Gary was a pain in the ass but the sheer entertainment value of his escapades were something to behold. When confronted by a school administrator for not following a procedure or administrative rule. He could have them stammering and backpedaling with his biting sarcasm and logic. It was like nothing I had ever seen before.

Gary often skipped school, blaming his asthma as an excuse for sitting at home and watching TV. He could miss 40 days of a school year and still make straight A's

He lived two blocks from me, so I walked over to his house to hang out with him one day after school. In this fairly nice neighborhood , Gary lived on the one and only street where the yards had no grass and there were more cars up on blocks than were running.

When he opened the door I smelled dead fish. I asked him when they ate seafood and he said never. I decided that it must be my imagination. A few weeks later after meeting Gary's mom, I was invited to spend the night . I accepted the invitation and went over with my pillow and sleeping bag. This was my first sleepover and I was looking forward to getting out of my house and hanging out with Gary.

When I got there and rang the doorbell, Gary's younger brother opened the door and once again I smelled the dead fish. This was strange, I just knew there had to be a bait shop or something near by.

After going inside I finally realized what was wrong.


Gary's room was literally 3 1/2 feet deep in trash, food, dishes, dirty clothes. It stank like hell.

It took me the better part of an hour to clear out a place to put my sleeping bag. and then I was afraid of rats chewing my ears off when I slept. I told Gary he was a disgusting dirty mother fucker but he just laughed. He wore his badge of filth with pride.

I went into the bathroom Gary shared with his two younger brothers. It was covered in shit, piss, hair and the toilet seat was broken in half and hanging off to the side. But I really had to go bad, So I grabbed some cleaner and scrubbed a spot so I could half squat over the commode without getting their filth on my pants.

They didn't believe in toilet paper either. I had to rip apart an old magazine I found on the floor.

I just couldn't fucking believe how dirty these people were. I went into the kitchen to get a drink of water and I saw a pile of rotten meat on the counter covered in maggots. I about lost it at that point.

Throughout the weekend, I didn't complain in front of Gary's mother.That would have been rude.

Seriously, It was the most putrid vile smelling house I had ever been in. Gary, his mom and brothers thought everything was perfectly normal. They were joking about me being some kind of weird clean freak when I wiped off a place at the kitchen table before I sat down to eat the pizza they had ordered.

I don't know what I would have done if they had prepared food in that maggot and slime infected pit they called a kitchen.

Taking Gary aside, I told him "dude you and your brothers could be taken away by the state for living in this mess" He didn't believe me and said I was being a pussy about the whole thing.

Needless to say, from that point on Gary came to my house for the weekends.

A few years later, Gary's mom and brothers moved to California. Gary was given a choice to go with mom or stay in town and live with his dad.

He chose to stay. His dad and step mom were much cleaner. I didn't mind going over to their house at all. He wasn't allowed to be such a disgusting bum at dad's house.

There was only one problem, Gary had never been taught to wipe his own ass. There was never any toilet paper at his mom's so he just learned to walk it off.

One day I saw his dirty underwear in the corner of his room. It looked like someone had taken a chocolate bar, put it in their skivvies and walked around for several days.

It was enough to gag a maggot. I was standing there gawking at the pile of shit covered underwear when Gary's step mom walked in to collect the laundry. She took one look at them and said " Uh Gary I'm just going to go buy you some new underwear."

She was a sweet lady and I could only imagine what was going through her mind as she grabbed a broom handle and carefully lifted the soiled items and placed them into a cardboard box. Gary didn't care . He wasn't at all ashamed of his Hershey stained and stiff as a board unmentionables.

Being Gary's friend in my teen years didn't do much for me in the girl department.
Hanging out with a stinky rude abrasive asshole was not good for my social standing. More on that later...

Year in review.

Aisby recapped her year in this post. It was a good one for her.

I liked the idea, so I decided to recap Hammer's 2006.

Jan 06 : I quit my DJ job at the karaoke bar and left those miserable drunks behind.

Feb 06 Bought a New Dodge Charger, Fun fast car. Too much temptation for me. I drive the SUV and let my wife get the traffic tickets.

Mar 06 Cut all ties with former fake friends. Changed my phone numbers and laid down the law with my extended family. I basically told everyone not to fuck with me or my kids.

April 06 My great niece was born. My Nephew is the only one I'm close to on that side of the family.

May 06 Despite troublesome ADHD and a slew of shitty teachers my son passed normal standardized testing and was taken out of special education.

June 06 I started When your only tool is a hammer... Went to Las Vegas and took a driving trip through the Southwest with my family

July 06 I got my first non spam comment from Phoenix

August 06 All of my kids began attending the same school kinder, 1st and 4th grade My wife and I celebrated our 15 year wedding anniversary.

September 06 I finished my first book and shelved it for future editing.

October 06 I took the month off except for blogging and taking care of the kids.

November 06 Voted, decided I hate my in laws even more and again told everyone to fuck off.

December 06 Had a good Christmas, The kids hit behavioral and academic milestones, I've decided to be more outspoken in my personal life in the upcoming year.

Thanks everyone. Your kindness has made 2006 one of the best years in a long line of forgettable ones.

Some new years funnies

...........................................Don't mind me. I'm training for your leg.

..........................................................................Oh deer

A sad lack of sympathy

Late November 1987 I was a senior in highscool, I had a job, a good car, good friends and things were finally starting to go my way..to some extent.

I got home from school like normal, and began putting on my shirt and tie for my mininum wage monkey job in the piss and shit soaked men's department of the discount store.

My dad walked into my room, and said, "son, I've got something to tell you..."

My dad wasn't normally solemn and serious like this.

I only had 5 min to get dressed and to work, and because of my tight schedule, I continued preparing for my shift as he spoke.

He said, Your mom has cancer, they found it this morning and they are operating on her as we speak.

Call me a sonovabitch, but before you do, read my previous posts, but I had no emotional reaction whatsoever. I felt nothing. I was more concerned what this was going to do to my work schedule.

For those of you who don't want to go read about mommy dearest, she was an abusive, self absorbed, hateful and evil woman who had used her power and energy over past ten years to make my life a living hell.

My heart was empty.

My dad said that I needed to go to the hospital in case she didn't make it. I loved my dad and I could see he was hurting so I called into work for the first time ever and told them I would not be in.

I didn't know what purpose me going to the hospital was going to serve. My mother never had a kind word to say to me and I sincerely believed she hated me. How could my presence make her feel better?

On the way to the hospital, we were driving over some huge dips in the road and the person in the opposing lane was really really big, I mean huge. When his car passed over the humps all of the fat on his upper body jumped up and engulfed the guy's head.

It was the funniest damn thing I had ever seen, but I didn't feel it was appropriate to laugh on the way to see my "dying mother". It took everything I had to keep my laughter inside, tears were crawling out of my eyes and this actually helped with my ruse.

We got to the hospital and went up to the fourth floor. I walked in and saw my mom. She had tubes coming out of her and she had a miserable look on her face, I found out she had just had a full masectomy.

I would never wish this on anyone.. even my mother. I didn't know what to say. I'm not an asshole by any means and I'll hold up a feigned and solemn concern to keep up appearances.

The docs were getting ready to do some more stuff to her and we had to go. My dad then said, kiss your mother goodbye.

He may as well have told me to give a blowjob to the orderly holding the bedpan. Dammit folks, my mother had not hugged or kissed me since I was a tiny baby and the last 17 years of post partum depression had me used to the idea that I would never have to touch her.

I steeled myself, walked over and gave her a peck on the cheek. It was like I was french kissing a donkey's asshole. So wrong. Why should I pretend this is my near and dear loving mother just because she was sick.

I got home and called my Grandmother and Aunt. I figured they needed to know what was going on. My mom hated them too. They caught the next flight into town. They really couldn't afford it but Grandma and aunt Katie is good people and to them family comes first.

I took them to the hospital to see mom. Grandma and mom's sister Katie were seriously concerned and wanted to help despite the shitty way mom had treated them in the past.

Mom looked over at them as they walked in the door and said, "what the fuck are you doing here?" I was embarassed like it is was my fault or something. Fuck! I wanted to crawl into the woodwork. I knew mom was hurting but Jesus Christ.

Grandma and Katie didn't say anything except "do you need anything?" mom turned to the window and ignored them.

I took them back to the airport. They had paid a grand to get here for two hours just to be treated like shit. I just went back to work. there was nothing more I could do at this point.

Mom was out of the hospital a couple of days later. Dad had disappeared. I don't know where he went but I was stuck being my mothers nursemaid. I had to drive her to all her appointments, help her with physical therapy, feed her and everything else.I nearly lost my job from missing so much work. All the while she was screaming and cussing me. I couldn't do anything right. Even my breathing drew her rage.

This was about normal for her except for the fact that I was usually able to get away from her when she acted like this. I was stuck with her during the recovery and reconstructive surgery.

I was working, going to school, taking care of the house and nursing mom back to health while she verbally abused me. I considered running away but what kind of man would I be if I did that shit?

Seriously, I was looking foward to her either her getting better, or dying and going to hell.... and where the fuck was dad? Hmm weird.

I still don't know what I was supposed to do or feel in that situation but I did the best I could.

A Stranger to my own life.

Kirsten pointed out that some people tend to get different things out of the stories I write.

This got me to thinking.

When I write something autobiographical on my blog I usually have no idea what it's going to be about. Usually I pick a time period then begin writing about whatever pops into my head. The details that come out of my keyboard are often a surpirse to me. I find myself wondering what is going to happen next as my fingers tap out the story.

Writing this blog seems to be a form of self hypnosis. Often times I will re-read what I wrote several times and am amazed at it. Like it all happened to someone else. Retelling notable events from my life is thereputic as well. I am able to figure out my own fears, behaviors and personal pitfalls by reading my own stuff as an outside observer.

Lots of things I previously took for granted take on a life of their own when put into writing. I've got a keen memory but often censor myself when speaking. People tend to lose interest when I'm talking to them, unless they are drunk or high... Maybe its a result of our modern society and the short attention spans it creates. Or maybe I'm just boring in real life ...

Blogs seem to be different in the way they reach people. I guess the written word is far from dead. It seems to be more powerful than I first imagined.

When I look into the blogstats to see what people are reading I'm shocked to see readers online for hours on end with dozens of page views. Normally anything over 10 min I would have attributed it to someone leaving the blog and going to take a dump.

I'm humbled and grateful for all of you that get enjoyment or insight out of reading my regurgitations and write such kind insightful things in the comments. Reading what you guys think makes my day much more interesting and helps me to better understand my own mind.

Thanks.

Hey bubba! If you hit him hard enough candy comes out of his ass.

Update:

Sodamn Insane has left the building and is now being saddamized for an eternity in hell. Finally he gets some payback for his torture, his professional hired rapists and use of chemical weapons on women and children.

Waste not... want not

At the end of the tax year the Tax Office sent an inspector to audit the books of a synagogue.While he was checking the books he turned to the Rabbi and said, "I notice you buy a lot of candles. What do you do with the candle drippings?"

"Good question," noted the Rabbi. "We save them up and send them back to the candle makers, and every now and then they send us a free box of candles.

""Oh," replied the auditor, somewhat disappointed that his unusual question had a practical answer. But on he went, in his obnoxious way: "What about all these matzo purchases? What do you do with the crumbs?"

"Ah, yes," replied the Rabbi, realising that the inspector was trying to trap him with an unanswerable question. "We collect them and send them back to the manufacturers, and every now and then they send a free box of matzo balls.

""I see," replied the auditor, thinking hard about how he could fluster the know-it-all Rabbi. "Well, Rabbi," he went on, "what do you do with all the leftover foreskins from the circumcisions you perform?""Here, too, we do not waste," answered the Rabbi.

"What we do is save up all the foreskins and send them to the Tax Office, and about once a year they send us a complete dick."

Post of the week

This warms my heart this holiday season.

http://www.pinkcosmopolitan.com/2006/12/27/i-support-the-troops

The week the universe came together part III

As normally happens, some friends become takers and some end up as givers.

One night I was hanging out in Pizza joint where Chip ad Chance worked. They asked if I could give them a ride back to camp. It was getting really cold for late August and there were some snow flurries. Walking the 11 miles wouldn't have been pleasant for them.

I was exhausted, so when Chip and Chance got off work I said, "lets go". They said. "wait... lets party for a while" I was in no mood to get drunk and then drive up a mountain in the snowy darkness. I'm just not that crazy.

I was pissed that they had me hang around for hours to give them a ride just to have them renege on the deal.

We walked out onto the cold dark street and I pretty much decided it was time for me to go. It had been an amazing 6 days but I was being used for a taxi, beer money, planning and parenting. I had enough of that shit.Some things never change.

I was concerned however, that the cold weather had just hit and these stupid bums were still in shorts and Tee shirts.

Chance mirrored my exact thought at that moment. He said, "damn I'm cold and that asshole stole all our stuff how are we going to keep from freezing to death?"

I was half considering whipping out my credit card, but just as the words left his mouth. A New Saab pulled up to the corner, a fashionable young lady got out and placed two large boxes in front of us. The boxes were filled with brand new Ski clothes, pants, sweaters, jackets, long underwear, tents, zero degree sleeping bags etc.. every item still had the store price tags and was the exact right size for my two friends.

I stared in disbelief as my friends donned their new warm clothes and packed everything else up and put it in my car.

It was then I knew for sure that the universe had come together perfectly that very moment.

I told them I would drop the gear off at the camp for them but didn't mention leaving Telluride, I didn't want to listen to their bullshit about staying there with them and starting my life over.

I made it up the mountain but it was so dark and stormy I slept in the car. I didn't want to go traipsing through the forest in the black of night.

When I woke up the next morning, I packed up my camp, left the extra stuff in my friends tents, loaded up and headed out. I noticed they stayed in town that night. That was fine by me.

I felt a little guilty taking off unannounced but looking at the big picture I was just being used like a bitch anyway. Being the only thinking responsible person in a group is stressful and unfair.

Looking at the Atlas, I decided to take what I thought was more direct route home. It turned out to be a big mistake. US 50 had just been rebuilt and there were no painted lines on the road, no signs, reflectors, or lights for almost 200 miles. Then it started to pour down rain in buckets.

There was no where to pull off, the road was black and my brights barely let me see 5 feet in front of the car. I thought I was pushing it at 45mph. Truck drivers were pissed off and were passing me right and left. Their rigs were throwing tidal waves of water over the car as they went by.

I was white knuckling the steering wheel for hours trying not to run off the road. To make matters worse, since there were no signs I had no Idea how much further until the next highway.

I finally made it to the Texas border somewhere near Texico and Muleshoe. I was able to get on a main highway and make it to San Angelo.

That's when everything went to shit.

Another torrential downpour started, and I had been on the road 20 hours straight. The highway would divide and then go back to two lanes over and over. At one point I saw a pair of headlights coming straight for me.

I swerved to right to avoid a head on collision. The rain was coming down in sheets and I could see nothing out the front window. I stopped the car, afraid that I was still in the middle of the highway. There was just no way to tell.

At this point I said fuck it. There was absolutely no way I was driving blind. I turned on my hazards, put the seat back and fell asleep.

When I woke up the next morning, the sun was out the rain had stopped and I was perfectly parked behind an RV in a roadside parking area.

It was like god had picked up my car and placed it exactly where it needed to be. How could I go from torrential rain, head on collision to swerving into a parking place in one of the rare roadside stops? I was amazed and thankful.

The rest of the drive was uneventful. When I got home I realized that those assholes weren't really free. I was just lucky enough to have an adventure and see what it was really like on the other side without throwing my life away to do it.

I only saw the guys one time after that. It was three years later and they stopped in to visit for an hour. They had just been born again and the only reason they had stopped to see me was to try and convert me to some charismatic Pentecostal something or other. I was offended. To make matters worse they were trying to sign me up for Amway at the same time. They wanted my soul and my money.

I guess nothing ever changes.

The week the universe came together part II

So...anyway, my three friends were in the woods cold, starving, no vehicle, no money. They lived like this for nearly a month. Often they walked or hitched into town where there was a "free box" where the ultra rich townsfolk and tourists would leave unwanted items like warm clothes, tents camping gear etc...

There were a lot of homeless hippies who didn't exactly live in Telluride. There was a love hate relationship going on between the wealthy townsfolk and the penniless, unwashed masses that wandered the town. Telluride needed these people as temporary workers, to scrub the toilets, serve the food and wash dishes.

They did not want these people living in town. There were strict habitation rules and normal rent for an 8x10 bedroom in one of the local houses was over $2000 per month. On the outskirts of town going toward Montrose were little villages of cars, vans and tents where these people lived, did their dope and slept. The police were pragmatic about the whole thing. As long as the hippies did their drugs inside their tents and didn't cause trouble, no one was hassled, searched or arrested. The town needed these people or there would be no summer tourism.

My emaciated friends were eating berries on the side of the highway when three girls drove up. The girls picked up these hapless guys, camped with them, fed them and fucked them for a week then left with a vague promise to return. Paul has severe attachment issues so he immediately fell in love with the girl that picked him up, the other two had been around more and were just enjoying the ride.

By the time I got there all Paul could talk about was his new soul mate and the wonderful life they would have together. We were sitting there discussing this on the courthouse steps, in the town square when the Mushroom festival began.

People began filtering into the town, mostly normal folks with an interest in mycology. there were scientists, retired people, college kids etc... I didn't want to pay the $250 admission so I just hung around and watched.

"Christie" the girl Paul was supposedly in love with walked into town with one of her friends. Paul jumped up to do the stereotypical long lost lovers reunion but she walked right by and barely acknowledged him. He started making excuses, and turning red in the face. He ran up to her and asked when she would be coming up to the camp and etc... It was sad to watch, but she basically said, "we might hang out sometime" but the rejection still didn't register. I tried to explain it to him but there is no talking to a lovestruck hormone factory.

Paul went off to his pizza job and I was left alone with the mushroom festival organizers. They were making a big pot of brown liquid in front of the courthouse and setting up registration. They asked if I wanted some. I accepted a Styrofoam cup. It tasted pretty good. I wandered into town to look around and soon realized that this was no ordinary shittake.

The world started to sway and turn rose colored. I became relaxed and didn't feel the cold anymore. I was having trouble walking straight so I sat down on a park bench and zoned out for a while. The sensation was euphoric but it only lasted about 45 minutes or so. I figured I needed to be more careful what I ate and drank around here, no harm done though.

At night my friends and I would sit around the campfire up in the mountains eat leftover pizza from their jobs and drink beer. For some reason at this altitude it only took me three beers to get totally wasted. The mountain air made sleeping easy and restful. Each morning I had to wake up early and take my friends to their jobs then spend the rest of the day entertaining myself.

One morning, I decided to walk up to the bear falls. It was about two miles up a trail that ran behind the town.

The scenery and waterfalls were breathtaking. I hadn't been around this kind of environment before. I was by myself up in the forest, chilling out and meditating when I spotted a large black bear approaching. I calmly began walking back down the trail. There was mountain to one side of me and a steep drop off on the other. I kept walking, pretending I didn't notice the bear that was following me. I could tell it was closing in from behind so I began to jog. A couple of people were jogging up the trail as I was coming back down. When they saw the bear chasing Jesus they didn't say a word but turned around and began running too.

The bear must have been after food or territory because once I got to the edge of town the bear gave up and trotted back up the trail. I ran the two miles in about 12 minutes but it seemed like an eternity with a 400Lb bear breathing down my neck. I really didn't feel that afraid. It was like I was just avoiding the unpleasant aggravation of being eaten alive.

The mushroom festival people often talked to us, we knew some mycology ourselves, had picked and eaten edible mushrooms for quite some time. They were dissapointed that the Amanita's that they normally find were not around this particular year. We asked where they normally found them and they told us the mountains of Northern New Mexico normally had the most. Chip and Chance were off work for a few days so we grabbed our mushroom book and headed for New Mexico. We arrived at about 5 AM, pulled off the side of the road and started exploring. We wandered around for several hours in the woods, drove on to several spots and found the motherlode. At the time all of these mushrooms were legal and could be mail-ordered from herbalist catalogs, so we weren't worried about any issues relating to that.

I had to be careful not to get the death caps. the only way to tell was to look for the white chunks on top of the cap. That meant it was safe to eat.

These mushrooms were supposed to cause drunkenness and stupor. I wasn't really interested but I figured everyone at the festival would like them.

We headed back to Telluride with several baskets full of amanitas. We picked up some hitchhikers along the way as was the custom around those parts. They ate some of our mushrooms and were wildly intoxicated once we pulled into town.

We didn't eat any, we were too tired and didn't want to experiment with these unknown substances in the middle of town.

It sounds crazy but we drove around Telluride handing out mushrooms to people on the street. This made for some happy hippies. We gave a bunch to the festival organizers that had lamented their shortage.

The Festival organizers invited us to the closing day celebration. I chose not to go because I didn't want to become inebriated in public again. It was funny to watch though. About three hundred people were given a baggie of mushrooms as a parting gift. There were people of all ages and walks of life marching down the street, tripping their balls off. I have never seen anything that surreal before or since.

Stay tuned for part III

The week the universe came together part I.

As I mentioned before, I had some bohemian friends that decided to live in an cave in Colorado and eat berries instead of being stuck in the city like a robot servant of the man like myself.

They were travelling off to parts unknown, taunting me with their freedom. They expected me to dump my wife and travel across the country with them.

Was I tempted? Nope.

Was I jealous? A little.

These were friends that I spent nearly every day with for 12 years, through fun, trials, tribulations, danger and crazy women. We had worked together, played together and were closer than brothers.

I don't blame them for wanting to go. They were laid off from the company we all worked for, they had no attachments, debt or worries. The dumb asses didn't have much sense either.

They had blown almost all their money on beer and partying, were driving my old beat to hell Nova with no spare tire and were planning on driving Twelve hundred miles to Telluride Colorado.

They were going to be mountain men, live off the land and be free unlike us dead city zombies.

I filled up their gas tank and gave them a bag of groceries and cash from my dead zombie wallet and sent them on their way.

I had a feeling this was going to be the last I saw of them. Right before they left they asked if I would drive up in August to attend the Telluride Mushroom festival.

I told them I would think about it.

August rolled around and I was pondering going up there to check out and see how the "mountain men were faring" Everything clicked, my wife was going off to some training in Atlanta, I had just quit my job and had a decent car so I loaded up with camping gear, food, guns and clothes.

I'm a conservative planner, I make sure all my ducks are in a row before I do anything. All risks are calculated, i's are dotted and t's crossed.

I was driving my 1986 Grand Marquis. I had this car for about 3 years. It was dependable but not what I would call economical. I decided to take it easy on the way up, not rush and save on fuel. Driving through central Texas 55mph, cruise control, windows down.

This is when things started getting weird.

The drive was relaxing and everything was going well but by the time I had travelled to San Angelo (about 250 miles) my fuel needle had barely moved.

Shit! Not knowing how much gas I have on a long trip makes me crazy. I pulled into a gas station and filled up so I could record how much gas I had used in 250 miles so I could keep track of fuel usage with my odometer.

Four gallons was all I could cram into the gas tank. Fuck! the gas tank is clogged or something .

I considered turning around, but the car was acting fine and I knew there would be plenty of gas stations along the way.

So I kept on going. I stopped for the night in Dalhart Texas and checked into a fleabag motel. Driving in the pitch black on small unfamiliar roads was not for me.

I got up bright an early the next morning, checked myself for vermin and parasites and headed on. I pulled into Telluride at six that evening. The drive up had been gorgeous but travelling on roads with 2000 foot drops and no guardrails made my stomach do back flips.

Too many times I saw two black skid marks trailing off the road into the great beyond.

I made it 1200 miles on 25 gallons of gas. It was inexplicable. I put that aside for now.

First things first. I had to find my buddies.

I stopped into the public visitors toilet to clean up and out of one of the stalls steps my friend Paul. Perfect timing. he was happy to see me.

He looked like shit. His hair was sticking up every direction, he was skinny, his beard looked like a birds nest, he was dirty and disheveled. I thought he had been beaten up and thrown in a dumpster.

His first words to me were: "oh man I'm so glad you came..do you have any food?"

I told him yes and handed him a bag of raisins out of my back pack.

He started eating them like a ravenous animal, He said "lets go to our campsite, thank god I don't have to walk the eleven miles again tonight"

We drove up to a primitive mountain trail several miles up the road. It was steep, rocky and had barely enough room for my car with the tires skittering off one edge, little rocks falling into the chasm below. I could only go about 3 miles per hour on the switchbacks he told me to watch for 1.2 miles on the odometer then we would be there.

That was the only way to tell.

They had a couple of ratty tents , Pauls brother Chip was there along with our friend Chance. They looked worse than Paul. Their eyes lit up immediately when they saw me . "Got any food?" Turns out living off the land isn't all it's cracked up to be.

They had mounted the Nova on a rock while exploring and popped the oil pan.

When offered a ride from a stranger he had them put their gear in the back of his station wagon and he drove off laughing before they could climb in.

These guys were eating berries, drinking snow melt and not much else for about a month. Turns out they were walking into town each day 20 miles round trip looking for a job of some sort so they could eat.

I wanted to laugh but these assholes looked so pathetic I just nodded .

Paul had just landed a job as a pizza cook and Chip a dishwasher.

Telluride was so hurting for people to work the lower level jobs in the town they would hire just about anybody who would show up.

I was there to have a good time and my friends had become money zombies working for the man... Who's laughing now?

To be continued...

RIP President Gerald Ford

In the fall of 1974 I was standing with my Grandmother on the side of the highway near Independence Missouri. She said, "this may be the closest you ever get to seeing a president." Just then, a big black limo zoomed by followed by a small motorcade.

Grandma was right...Never saw another president after that.



http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/10949314/

Mistaken identity

It all started in the second grade. I went to a Catholic school where we learned very little about religion but were taught the "sit kneel stand" thing, communion, and confession.

One project we were given was to go home and research our name and it's biblical origin. My parents looked into their bible, and some other books, called a professor they knew and it was decided my name was a translation of "Jesus". Being a little kid I did not realize the implications of going to school and relaying that tidbit of information.

The next day at school, everyone is talking about John, Matthew, Luke, Anne, Beth etc..For some reason, I was last to present. I told them my name meant Jesus. Everything went silent. The teacher turned a funny color not unlike an eggplant. Not another word was said. I could tell the teacher was angry, but I had no idea what I had done. The rest of the second grade was miserable from that moment on. I broke some code and became a messiah pariah.

These days, I live in a town where a good portion of the population sees the virgin Mary everywhere., In toast, moldy walls, car bumpers etc.. Every other week, my step mother is driving 100 miles to look at "the virgin" that has manifested itself in a tree stump or a bathtub stain.

When a stolen Jesus statue fell into the Rio grande river, people came to the police station to worship it in the evidence room.

I don't put a lot of faith in inanimate objects but what can you do? It makes people feel better to think Jesus and Mary are looking over them and making their presence known.

My father in law was a barber and a mean sonovabitch ex marine. He did not like me ..a messkin marrying his daughter. He never spoke to me and made it clear he never intended to. The last thing I wanted was him cutting my hair. So I just stopped getting haircuts all together.

About a year later, I quit my horrid corporate job that was killing me. I lived in a small rental house in west side neighborhood. I had my 401K money to live on and I was trying to get my head together and decide what to do with the rest of my life.

When I would go to the small Mexican restaurant by the house, people would whisper and stare at me. Little kids would point at me and say "Mama! it's Jesus!" then they would get smacked off their chair.

I never thought much about it. I was a medium complected, thin, 24 year old with long brown hair and a beard. I didn't see Jesus when I looked in the mirror.

When little kids would call me Jesus I figured it was just their simplistic view of the world making comparisons of the things they see around them.

I was mowing my lawn one day and I looked over and saw the neighbors lawn was 3 feet tall and out of control. I hadn't met the people but I knew it was a single mom, her severely disabled teenaged son and a very old man who lived there.

I figured they could use some help, so I let myself into their gate and cut down the jungle and made it look nice.

The old man was struggling down the wheelchair ramp with a five dollar bill by the time I finished. I told him that I didn't want any money. I just wanted to help out.

The old man started crying and said "Jesus it's really you" he begged me to come inside to show me his shrine. I was a little freaked out but this man was 95 years old crippled and harmless. I went inside he showed me his little corner where he kept his Jesus pictures and candles.

I was kind of touched that he really believed I was Jesus, so I sat and talked with him for a while.

Later that year my dad took me out for my birthday to a hole in the wall biker bar. Everyone kept coming up and staring at me. Finally a drunk guy in the band yelled into the microphone, "Jesus is in the house!" Frigging embarrassing. I don't like attention and it seemed this Jesus thing was getting out of hand.

My dad told me that resembling Jesus was a big responsibility and I had a lot to live up to. Thanks dad, not that I didn't have enough to do...

Why does this shit always happen to me? Why couldn't I look like David Hasselhoff or something.

Luckily, I don't get mistaken for the messiah much anymore. Now everyone thinks I'm silent bob.

Not sure which one is worse.

Christmas eve rundown.

Went to my wife's parents house last night. Often, it's something I dread because of holiday overload, people acting up and so many presents nothing gets appreciated.

This year was pretty good though.

My mother in law actually asked us to bring a bottle of wine! This is a major fucking breakthrough. In years past we had to keep the bar outside in my trunk and bring plastic cups inside with our favorite holiday beverage.

I usually spend so much time bartending that I miss some of the festivities.

Much to my surprise, she gave up the tetotaling rule. She knows everyone drinks like a fish anyway including her husband and finally let the party come inside.

I guess it was because so many people didn't show up this year and she just was grateful that she didn't have to spend her favorite holiday alone. Usually we have all my wife's brother and sisters, their kids, plus some cousins their spouses etc...

Since we didn't ditch this year like everyone else did, we were treated extra special and were spared the shit assed catty comments my mother in law is famous for. Usually my wife is pissed or crying over some fucked up insensitve remarks
from her mom and sister.

This year was much better there were fewer presents, the kids got more attention and family togetherness.

We came home watched a new DVD and let the kids open a few gifts from under the tree.

This year was good. Nothing to complain about, which is very rare.

I want this trend to continue. Fewer gifts, acceptable adult behavior and a good time had by all.

Anyways...
I hope everyone had a great Christmas

Some last minute Christmas funnies

The kid's first Christmas

My daughters came to live with us in late November 04 So things we still very new to them. They were still adjusting to their new home and were amazed at the simple things like eating, playing with toys that belonged to them and having nice clothes to wear.

When the Christmas tree went up, they did't have any idea what it was. They thought it was pretty and enjoyed decorating it and looking at it but other that... no clue.

When we talked about Santa they were clueless about that as well. They couldn't believe such a thing was possible. Remember, they were four and five years old at this point and had never experienced a Christmas of any consequence.

We took them to the nice mall for a visit to Santa. They asked, "dad... that man really brings us presents?" Of course, I explained and told them the whole deal.

I was really bothered by the fact that they came from a Mexican family and a foster home and never got a fucking present, a tree or any of the traditions associated with it.

Gradually stacks of presents gathered under the tree, and on Christmas eve we put out milk and cookies for Santa.

They were very skeptical about the whole deal and were questioning the whole down the chimney thing and trying to find holes in my story.

We were listening to Christmas music and reading stories and they kept running to the front window.

I thought they were looking for Santa. Finally, I said, "Santa won't come till later after you are asleep."

The girls said, "no dad we are looking for the police mans they always come get us at Christmas"

Fucking sad.

Anyway, when the girls went to sleep I put on my big work boots stomped them around in the fireplace and left dirty boot prints on the white carpet leading to the cookies, took a bite, drank some milk, put out the Santa presents and went to sleep.

The next morning about 8AM I heard a tremendous squealing and laughing.

They dragged me downstairs to show me the footprints and the half eaten cookie. He's real! he's real!!!

They didn't give a shit about the presents. They were caught up in the magic and that was fine with me.

Tagged with Christmas meme

Jarhead john Tagged me on this one:

Three things I want for Christmas:

My wife's family to pull their heads out of their asses, stop fighting and think about how it's hurting the kids.

A baby sitter that I can trust.

A new pair of steel toed boots


Three things I don't want:

A Sweater

White tube socks

Inspirational Christmas chain letters

I tag, Phoenix, Brandon, and Myron

Light vs Shadow

I've been thinking about my blogging recently. I write in stream of consiousness mode, never knowing what is going to pour out of my fingers. It's been good for me because for some reason the part of my brain that controls my writing is much better at remembering details than the speech center of my brain is at telling a story.

I guess it's all left brain right brain stuff.

I did notice something and think some other folks have too. I don't write bad stuff about myself other than embarrassing anecdotes or family troubles. I tend to avoid the darker side of my life and personality.

After mulling the topic around in my brain for a while, I realized why I don't talk about my faults . I think it's too painful. I spent a lot of time growing up with people who constantly said bad shit about me and took every opportunity to insult and demean me.

When I reached adulthood, negativity, criticism, insults and bad feelings were something I wanted to leave behind permanently.

There are regrettable things I've done, people I've hurt emotionally and embarrassing things I would rather forget. Luckily not too many, but enough that they haunt me from time to time.

The good thing is, the pain from these events in my life is powerful enough to keep me from repeating the same mistakes over and over again. I can learn and grow from guilt and shame instead of being consumed by it.

Some of the dumb things I did are not even a blip on the radar to most people, but they are significant to me.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, even if my blog posts show a more positive and good side of myself than seems normal, I'm far from perfect.

I 've succumbed to depression before and shut myself off from society. There have been times where I've shut out my friends and family. There were times I almost drank myself to death trying to get the demons to leave me alone. Thankfully, I had someone or something watching over me and was able to bounce back.

Now that I have my kids, I find myself more upbeat and happy about life.

I'm through with bad thoughts, sad stories and self pity. I want to communicate positive ideas, experiences or at least things that get people thinking and changing their own lives for the better.

Most of all, I want people to laugh more, myself included.

The hubcap fairy

Several years back I used to take a shortcut through some apartments to save myself at least 20 minutes on my daily commute. There was a huge insurance company in the way and I had to get around it to get to work on time.

One day after a heavy rain I was tooling around the corner in my '77 Nova next to the apartments as usual. I suddenly felt a bone jarring thump. My car went sideways and then didn't want to go anymore.

Luckily it was on the way home from work.

I got out of the car and noticed I had two flat tires..not just flat.. exploded like Vaseline covered condoms.

I had many tire problems in the past. I always carried a full set of tools, two jacks and at least two fully functional spare tires.

I quickly changed the tires. Super fast! I had done it hundreds of times before. I could have worked for a Nascar team with my old bumper jack and a four way tire tool.

Sadly three of my hubcaps had flown off into outer space to be with their brethren on alpha centauri. They were no where to be found.

It was getting dark so I went home and vowed to come back and search for them the next day.

The next day was Saturday, thankfully.

Before I go on with this tale...you need to understand one thing about me.

I cannot drive a car that has a mis-matched wheels or missing hubcaps, wheel covers or one of those little donut spares. It makes me fucking crazy.

I don't give a flying fuck what the rest of the car looks like, it could be seven different colors of bondo, rust, primer and gold spray paint...but all the wheels better all be the same godammit.

So obviously, I had removed my one remaining lonely hubcap and put it in the back seat while I searched for it's brothers.

Back at the scene of the mishap, I saw the four foot deep sink hole that I had hit with my car the previous day. I could see that other cars had hit it too and some fared much worse than mine from the bits of plastic, glass and fluids staining the ground.

Just next to the curve of the road, was a small grove of trees and some tall grass. I walked down the hill and there before me was the biggest pile of hubcaps I had ever seen. There were at least sixty in a great big pile. The trajectory of the pothole and the angle of this grove had captured all of them perfectly.

I knew that replacement caps could sell from anywhere from 5 to 50 bucks each so I figured there was a gold mine here. Especially with the wire spoked, Cadillac and other fancy ones.

I backed up my car and spent a good 30 minutes filling my trunk and back seat with new found shiny silver booty. I walked around and found at least 20 more that had gone astray.

You have no idea how exciting this was for a hubcap weirdo such as myself.

Sadly, I only found one of the hubcaps for my car and it was smashed up pretty badly.

So, I'm driving around in a car full of hubcaps and none of them are on my vehicle. I tried to make a matching set from my stash but alas three of the same was the best I could do and that shit just doesn't fly.

I was planning on going to the hubcap shops to sell my treasure for a few hundred dollars and use some of the money to buy myself some replacement covers for my poor car. It just looked so damn naked with it's bare black steel and dented up grease caps just sitting there mocking me like an impetuous filthy street urchin.

I was on the way to the "hub cap harry megamart" when my life changed forever. I saw a car driving along and it was missing a hubcap.

I pulled in behind the person and began to follow . They pulled into a gas station and I parked right behind them, got out of my car and said " Excuse me... I have something for you..." I walked back to my trunk, opened it up and found a perfect match for their car, not noticing that I was scaring the living shit out of this poor person. They looked very frightened like I was going to pull out a tire iron and beat them to death with it.

I walked up to their car with the hubcap and hammered it on with my special rubber mallet tool made especially for the job.

The poor person was relieved and baffled at the same time. They offered to pay me but seeing their vehicle intact again was so gratifying to me that I refused their money and went on my way.

I knew then what needed to be done.

My whole Saturday was spent driving around town making cars whole again. A Grocery store parking lot could take four or five, the mall had at least 11 completions By the end of the day I only had six hub caps left. I was covered head to toe in black grime and brake dust. I looked like a demented Chimney sweep.

At the time, none of my actions seemed weird. It was just something that needed to be done.. an ugly whole in the universe that needed plugging

I sold my last six caps at the hub cap annie and ended up buying my own freaking hubcaps back from those mother fuckers with the money they gave me.

How did I know they were mine?
They were my babies....each one is an individual.

I ended up 43 cents richer than when I started but for some reason the money didn't matter it was just something that needed doing.

Most cars have solid alloy wheels or mags these days, thankfully. I would hate for my obsession to manifest itself and become the hubcap fairy again.

The perfect Christmas songs.

This one from nomas is a must see.

This one from Otis is a big winner as well

CD review. "dragons under my bed"

As chance would have it Kath Bee commented on one of my posts and as always I go check out commenters blogs.

Turns out she is a singer songwriter for kids. She records and performs especially for children. I read some of her posts here http://www.kb-kidsongs.blogspot.com/ . Turns out she is a cool thoughtful person.

I asked about buying one of her CD's for my Kid's Christmas and sure enough there was one in my mail today.

Dragons under my bed

As soon as I started the music, my girls ran in and started laughing and acting with the music. They were grinning ear to ear and listening to songs about dragons, missing socks and kids refusing to do their daily hygiene.

"Dad I want to be a camel" was their favorite.

They started the music for a second time and were already singing and dancing to it.

I foresee the kids getting hours of enjoyment from this fun new CD.

Looks like Kath is just getting started in the music business so the only way to order a CD is pop her an Email songs4kids@gmail.com with your order They are $15 NZ dollars which calculated to $10.44 US as of 12/21/06

If you have kids, grand kids nieces, nephews, etc... order them a copy.

Story with a happy ending.

Last year, I was getting new floor tile installed. It was taking a little longer than expected and my wife and I were invited to a barbecue that evening. I called the supervisor and the flooring place and asked if their people were bonded and insured.

They all said yes. I asked the owner and supervisor if it was safe for me to go to the barbecue and have them lock up the house when they finished.

The said "yes of course" they do it all the time.

We went to the outing had fun and got home around midnight.

First thing I noticed was my digital camera was gone.

My wife was upstairs taking off her wedding ring and when she opened her jewelry box all her stuff was gone. Diamond rings, bracelets, stuff I have given her for the past 15 years. The only thing left was the cheap stuff.

The camera and jewlery were no where near where these people were working and I had locked the bedroom door. One or all of the workers easily defeated the locks and filled their pockets.

I called the cops and they took a report.

I called the flooring place and they called me a liar and that people claim stuff is stolen all the time.

I called the owner of the tile compnay "Jose" and he assured me that it wasn't his guys and he would talk to them.

I told Jose that I wanted my stuff back and and he wasn't getting payed until this matter was settled. Turns out that bonded and insured means nothing and they lied to me anyway. I called my own insurance company and they told me that they only cover $1000 in jewelry without a rider minus my $250 deductible

I had lost at least $4500 worth of shit. Jose called me back and said "the police ran the pawn detail on all his guys and they had not pawned my stuff. Somebody else must have stolen my items and he stands behind his crew."

Jose came by the house to discuss the matter. He told me that I needed to pay him or sue him and to make a decision. I told him directly that I was not a liar, his people were thieves and he needed to make this right.

He again refused, saying there was no proof that my items really existed and that his people didn't steal. I reluctantly paid him for the finished tile job so he couldn't put a contractors lien on my house. If a contractor puts a lien on your property the bank that holds the mortgage has the option of calling in the note.

I didn't feel like being homeless.

I asked Jose, "do you believe in god?" He said, "yes my family is very religious and we pray all the time" I asked him, You do realize that god works in mysterious ways and this will be settled by him?" "Uhh.. yes he will" said Jose nervously. I don't know why I said all that. I'm not very religious and rarely break into god talk with strangers.

That very second we heard an ear shattering crash. It sounded like a bomb went off. We ran to the front door and peered outside.

Jose's brand new truck was folded in half, wrapped around my neighbors minivan. The neighbor was angry at her teenage son and mistakenly slammed on the gas instead of the brake and ended up smashing into Jose's truck. The neighbor was a single mom and had no insurance.

From looking at the truck I could tell there was at least $7000 worth of damage and possibly a total loss. I asked Jose if he carried commerical vehicle insurance with uninsured motorist coverage. He looked at the ground and shook his head.

I went back inside and enjoyed the rest of my day.

I soon recieved an insurance check for $2000. The claims person had felt sorry for me so he made an exception and forgave the deductible. I went out and bought my wife a new platinum tennis bracelet with the insurance money.