Its been a rather trying month, with the fire ants, allergies leading to sinus infection (twice), a new twist, Pink Eye (and dont say, “you know how you get Pink Eye, right, poo in the eye!” you get Pink Eye from several things, in this case allergies), several trips to the dentist which included another abscess followed by its much more painful cousin, Dry Socket (and I thought the abscess was painful, I didnt know anything, at least with a bad tooth you can always get it pulled (or, if its bad enough (and involving a bit of alcohol) you can pull the thing yourself but there is nothing you can do for Dry Socket except wait it out), my coworker stirring up a hornet's (hornet or wasp I dont really know which, it doesnt matter, it felt like someone was poking me with a lit cigarette ALL over (yeah, I know what that feels like but thats another story)) nest under the stairs without telling me (and I thought the fire ants sucked), the first (of many) sunburn of the summer and various other things, including the same coworker drunk dialing me for several hours crying over something he didnt want to tell me over the phone but still wanted to cry, and wanted me to come over (not a chance, he's bad enough drunk on the phone, dont think I could deal with him in person) at all hours, then the guy txting me the other night at 2am telling me to come on over, his old lady was gone, so since A I dont swing that way, B I didnt know who it was, and C I DONT swing that way (not to mention D he was cheating on his 'old lady' (who says that anyway?) I politely told him no (ok not really, I txted him “my nipples itch, I think i'm pregnant” he didnt txt back) (it also left me rethinking my txt message ringtone, crows crowing at 2am in the dark isnt what you really want to wake up to) along with several other things that are too little to mention but had still left me feeling like Life's Little Chew Toy (patent pending, call now to order yours for only 3 easy payments of 39.95 plus shipping and handling, but wait, we'll double your order, just pay shipping, handling, and processing fee of 119.99), which is to say, rather put out and disjointed.
I have fought back, dragging my score up from negative 400 (by my count anyway, life is a sore loser) by finally finding something that killed all the ants in my yard (you really have no idea how happy I was to see all these little brown shriveled bodies around the pits (they looked like coffee grounds)), then I planted an actual 'in the ground with real dirt and all' garden (I tried that hanging upside down thing last year, too much heartache with little to show for it (other than negative karma)) and, in less than a week there are things growing in it... at least I hope its something I planted and not some weeds (that would lead to more negative karma, not to mention Life taking back some more points) so I am positive abut that. I got a GREAT deal on a new laptop, paid off one credit card without outside help (does that make me better or stupider than the banks who got a bailout loan?), talked my mother out of any thought of moving in with me (not as easy as it sounds, not to mention she'll forget in another couple months and ask again), wrote a new chapter in one of the books I am currently trying to write (yeah, they are written like this, so go figure how I am going to get anything published), and have made a couple of new friends, so have I drug my score up to negative 3 (yeah, my count), but its not even the middle of the month so I am thinking that I am ahead of the game (also something different for me, I used to be a 'half empty throw the glass away and not bother kind' of person, now I am a 'you know, there is some raspberry lemonade in the fridge and I bet that would go great with the half glass of iced tea' kind of person). I also hope to be able to write here more often, its always nice to have a creative outlet for my slightly skewed view.
I know I have been going to a restaurant too long when I have to refill my own tea, and it happens quite often, I will go to someplace, either read or write and the next thing I know the owners are sitting at my table, asking my opinion of things they are planning on doing. It usually goes slightly pear shaped as I lose control of what I eat there (there is only so much brisket I can eat, even if it is good, I would really like the lasagna and not seafood soup that you made special... today, yes I like your food, I come here all the time, dont I? (oh god, please dont let him cry)Yes (damn, she broke out the puppy eyes), I’ll have the seafood soup and the brisket (bugger! I REALLY wanted the lasagna cause its awesome *sigh*)) and become the subject of many a culinary experiment, some good, some... lets just say that the breadstick experiment where I had to explain that they arent actually as HARD as sticks, just stick.. (well, they dont look like sticks at all do they?) ...ish, or the ice cream over ‘Habanero bananas foster’ (Oh my god, I thought I was gonna die! (I dont even want to talk about the time I got liquid chili juice in between my teeth inside my gums up and under my tongue)). Then they learn that I am mechanically, technically, and computer inclined (I have always assumed that everyone could do what I did, little did I know (It amazes me the things people try with, as I learn, no real clue)) and the next thing you know I am putting together gumball machines, wiring speakers, fixing long dead jukeboxes and pinball machines, shopping for tv’s, building a website or repairing a computer for them (apparently I work for food, who knew?).
I have no idea what attracts them to me, most dont even know my name, they have a nickname that someone has picked out for me and the next thing you know they have other customers, family members and staff calling me ‘Best Buy’ (I dont even shop there), or ‘Wiz’ (I have ALWAYS hoped it was because of the pinball machine), or ‘Spanky’ (I am STILL afraid to ask), or even, ‘Yo Dude!’ (the one I am actually most comfortable with). They get little kids (theirs or someone else’s) and grandmothers (also theirs or someone else’s) calling me whatever name it is (god help me if I meet them somewhere else because other people assume its my real nickname and get upset when I dont answer to it (seriously, Spanky? Oh, your gandpa was called Spanky... (awkward))). Phone calls are even better because I dunno who it is calling me ‘Best Buy’ asking me if I can come over to show them how to use their brand new mp3 player and ITunes so they can listen to Adam Lambert’s (yes, thats a true story) American Idol songs (Adam who? the gay one on idol? the jerk brit dude? I thought his name was simon something... no, I dont watch it... (it went downhill from there)).
It goes the other way too, many a person (ok, women) has started reading the Sookie books before Trueblood came out and they want to discuss (loudly) Anita Blake, or Queen Betsy (ok, I read well, just not well read) with me (not the twilite thing, even I have standards, they might not be high but they are higher than ‘tween goth melodramas’ about 90 year old s*xual predators (yeah, I went there) who ‘twinkle’ (I dont even want to know what thats a metaphor for) in the sun).
The reason I wrote this, well I was trying to write today, as I ate my lunch that I didnt chose and had to stop as everyone went by and said, “Bye Best Bye” or “Hey Best Buy, what do you think of the new door?" (it's a little crooked... dont give me the puppy dog eyes, you asked)Put that in your book, that we got a new door.” and, “Hey, Best Buy, where can I get speakers for the new deck, and can you wire them up next week?” and, my favorite, “Go get your own tea, Best Buy, you are like family now so you can go and get your own tea”
I guess its not a bad thing after all...
I see you're single, one bottle of diet soda, half gallon of milk, 2 cans of veggies, a couple of cans of cat food is all thats in your cart while I use the basket because thats all I need for myself. You're beautiful without a ring on your finger and a little smile that doesnt reach your sad eyes that wont look my way. I keep bumping into you in the store, not intentionally but still we do, you wont look my way... Am I hideous? Am I THAT fat? Do I look weird? Why dont you look my way? Sure, I dont look like Brad Pitt, but who does? I'm not a wanker (OK, technically I AM, but not by choice or inclination (or am I? (OMG! I dont really know anymore!)) OK, so maybe I am, but not like a REAL wanker, you know? (Gods, I HOPE there is a difference), or a loser, am I? I have a steady (I hope) job, one and a half cars (no, its not up on blocks, I just dont drive it anymore), and MOST of a house (OK, the bank owns most of, but I pay for it every month), pay my bills on time (when they dont slip my mind), dont drool in public (you cant be held accountable for what you do in your sleep (that means that if YOU dream I was cheating on you with your sister you DONT get to wake up and smack me in the back of the head because it was YOUR dream) (and that counts for OTHER things that happen in your sleep too (just saying that I'm asleep, so it doesnt really count))... (I forgot where I was! Oh, yeah) I can carry on a conversation about anything without staring at your breasts (90% of the time, ok, maybe 80, tops), mostly (ok, 75% at most the first time, and I wont talk to them), I have opinions about quite a few things, but will listen to yours because not all mine are set in stone. I can cook, and not that whole "blue box and frozen entree" type either, I enjoy cooking and experimenting with food (maybe too much, I never seem to make anything exactly the same way twice), I might not be able to fix your car but I know who can (and that is important, almost as important as who NOT to call), but I can fix your computer and appliances and such. I can find the best little places to eat (dont ask me how because its a mystery to me), and I can make you laugh (unless you dont know how, then we are both boned) and sit with you when you cry... I can be THAT guy in your life that sweeps you up when you walk in the door, I can be that guy you want to come home to, the one that makes you smile when you wake up
Why wont you look at me?
Why didnt I say Hi?
A blog... a blog is something that is personal, whether you intend it to be or not because eventually it will tell more about you than you think because if you keep writing it your true character comes out so I start this one with mixed feelings (I could have said with a bit of trepidation and angst, but why break out the 5 dollar words?).
Why the mixed feelings? Well I suppose because of SOME insecurity of letting a stranger read my thoughts that come flowing out as I write, we do, after all, live in the information age, where true power and strength comes from personal knowledge.In reality its the age of information, the age that religions and kings have fought long and hard to keep from coming about, to keep the average man from knowing too much (and because some people thought that they knew better than the people who supposedly knew the people they were writing about did (or they wanted to get more money (or justify doing something bad to another race of peoples in the name of god which only they could hear, but thats a different rant (Wait, when did this become a rant? I thought this was just about why I was a bit leary of bloggin!)).
OK, this is the Information Age, and where people steal your identity (good luck to you with mine because I have considered ditching it and applying for a new one, I just don't know where to do that) and steal your stuff, or spam your friends (wait, that sounds like another rant! THIS is NOT a rant, its an introduction (we apologize for the rants, it wasn't supposed to happen, but I get distracted, my train of thought gets onto side tracks easily (someone is asleep at the switches) and I have a tendency to derail altogether (little thought people dead, tons of toxic thoughts spread into the air and seeping into the brain (my brain’s EPA is really slack on the job (the rumor is that they are taking bribes to look the other way, but its also been theorized that they are off smoking stuff that would get you in trouble if you work at Walmart with the guys working the switches) and they dont even come to the wrecks anymore) and it takes a while to get the train back on the tracks, or build a new one so bear (or is that bare?) with me) and now we get back to the thing that wasn't supposed to be a rant (I don't usually rant... much, usually I listen and inject my thoughts into conversations, honest) but I don't remember where I was or what I intended anymore, so I have to read and catch back up/wrest back control of this NOT rant).
*Deep cleansing breath*
Where was I? Oh, yeah, this is the Age of Information, so blogging (how many g’s is that supposed to have, my spell check doesn't even know the word so I am not sure) is sort of risky (and apparently a bit of fun if you can keep up with the little parenthesis things), but I have decided to take the plunge. After all, how will anyone get to know me if I don't. Just don't expect anything (I seem to rant, which is kind of scary (I kind of put it in the category of the evil maniacal soliloquy (wow, I need a better spell check because it didn't even know that word, I had to Google it) of the Bond villains as they tell him everything instead of just shooting him, but then again, they are usually looking to destroy the world and are probably surprised they found funding and other people (who are NOT goth or emo) to help them and really didnt think it would get this far and are hoping that he is going to kick their asses (does that have a slightly masochistic ring to it?))... *sigh* I did it again, didn't I? A train of thought derailment, I don't even remember where I started or where I planned on going and now I have a headache (the train must have hit something important) and will spell check this again and call it a day.
Sorry for the mess, I’ll clean it up later, I’m going for a nap,
Pilez
pilez Blog (4)