One of the negatives to me getting older is the extra attention needed to keep my body hale (you may have a different con). The additional time exercising, the additional time recovering from exercising plus the added discomfort from pains, spasms, sprains, tweaks, cramps, dings, jams, bruises, tears, and pulls is far greater than I can recall as a youth (just a few short years ago... no, really). Over the course of my years, I’ve been lucky enough to not have a major surgery nor broken bone, though I have endured countless sprains and the like (tho some would say I’ve fragmented my fair share of sentences). – Quick aside: What do you say to someone you surprise with their hand all the way down the back of their pants? I don’t mean someone just tucking a loose garment back into place or removing a pesky article from the nether regions, no, I’m talking a full on mining operation here; a complete and sordid raking of the entire ass epidermus; a back bending, up to your elbow colon exploration; a, um, well, you get the idea. I felt like I was watching a re-enactment of the infamous ‘hand shake’ in Mall Rats and should offer my expert critique:
Scene: MJ blunders upon office lad in the midst of a strenuous self body cavity search.
Players:
MJ as MJ
Office Lad as Assman
Setup: MJ takes a break from a hard day of sitting and hitting the ‘enter’ key and opens the door to his secure area only to discover Assman deep in the act of ensuring that, yes, there is a beginning to the end of the colon or at least a middle.
MJ: Erk!
Assman: (Frozen in the act of talking on the phone and minutes from needing a smoke) .. as I was saying (trails off as he turns and notices he has an audience)
MJ: Um… God, I hope you’re not doing a play by play!
Assman: (Snatches hand from pants and freezes as a small voice is heard from the phone at his ear)
MJ: If you tell me that there was a phone in your other hand as well, I think I may … No, I actually have no idea how I would react to that news.
Assman: (complete dear in headlights look… voice from phone continues to be heard)
MJ: Listen, I’m just going to go ahead and edge around you very carefully. You will NOT make any sudden moves and once I’m gone, you can continue your search for your gerbil friend, but for the love of all, do it somewhere less conspicuous, man!
Assman: (watches MJ slowly move around him and out of sight … Plunges hand back into pants.)
*I can only assume to that last bit. –
(aside over) In the past few weeks, I’ve been having some lingering issues with my right knee that just haven’t gone away, so, I’m having it scoped tomorrow. Yay, Halloween!
Anyway, I plan on watching the procedure and may very well describe it the next episode of… The Assman Blues!
Monday, October 30, 2006
Thursday, October 26, 2006
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
Spooky!
I may have mentioned in the past that October is my favorite month; due in part to Halloween and the traditions attached to this much hallowed day. I enjoy reminiscing about the adventures involved in collecting candy door to door and the accompanied excitement that can only truly be appreciated as a youngster, or recalling the times when an especially creative costume garnered appreciative comments and congratulations. In addition to fond memories, All Hallows Eve is perfect for those of us who like a little fright to kick start our adrenaline, you know, things like monsters, ghosts, ghouls, vampires, werewolves and, most frightening of all, the Haunting Ex(1) (shiver).
Which brings me to my chosen subject (awkward segue alert): The Haunting Ex.
The Haunting Ex, while frightening, is less frightening than the more nefarious Stalking Ex(2), yet, more annoying than the appreciated Benefits Ex(3). The annoyance of the Haunting Ex has little to do with the person, in my case, but rather more to do with the feelings attached to said person. A Haunting Ex can be different things to different peeps. My Haunting Ex is a psyche ghost, a mind specter, a subconscious recurrence of the un-undead (or not dead… or maybe even undying-not-undead… I’ll ponder the perfect metaphor later, I think), an unwanted apparition appallingly unapologetic in its unappealing and antagonistic appearances. I imagine the cause of the haunting or the inspiration behind the Haunting Ex differs from person to person, ranging from such cliché cataclysms as ‘the one that got away’ to ‘the one that burst thru my bony ribcage blasting thru my still living torso, her hand like a living bullet like simile, obliterating my beating heart, desecrating my belief in trust, shattering my respect for love, bludgeoning the seal cub of friendship, leaving a fractured, scarred and confused filled mess of a husk in her wake’ (um, you know, hypothetically speaking) to ‘the one that won’t let go’. It just depends on the situation.
Anywho, my haunting takes the form of surprises in dreams of unfulfilled futures or startled memories sprung from the vastness of my deep subconscious (where they should be repressed until forgotten for the love of ALL!! [pant, hiccup]), triggered by some innocuous comment, sentimental song or languishing landmark (yes, landmarks can languish.. I’ve seen it).
My haunting sometimes makes me smile whimsically, but most times makes me frown frightfully or often makes me quiver in a rage so deep, so fierce that the sound of grinding teeth startles me and I blink, blink away the spots from my sight and calm myself with breathing exercises learned from the many and varied Kung Fu films of my youth ( I sometimes think that if the Karate Kid tried that crazy ‘sand da fwl-oh’ on me, I’d stomp the creep so far he'd want me for Swayze's role in the Outsiders .. but, then again, he’d probably get me with that whole ‘pain da fens’ thing). On, more rare occasions, my curiosity will peek, and I’ll do a little cyber stalking and find out what I can about the Haunting Ex ( Idaho, horses, kids, probably in a militia ).
However, no matter what feeling I have after a specific haunt, never do I wish anything but the best for my Haunting Ex.
1. Haunting Ex – From the Greek Hauntingus Expectalutus, meaning, ‘why the hell can’t I just forget!’
2. Stalking Ex – From the Latin Syko Biznach, meaning, ‘For the love of God, NO!!’
3. Benefits Ex – From the Latin Benafacto Sexaloticis, meaning, ‘Hells Yeah!’
Which brings me to my chosen subject (awkward segue alert): The Haunting Ex.
The Haunting Ex, while frightening, is less frightening than the more nefarious Stalking Ex(2), yet, more annoying than the appreciated Benefits Ex(3). The annoyance of the Haunting Ex has little to do with the person, in my case, but rather more to do with the feelings attached to said person. A Haunting Ex can be different things to different peeps. My Haunting Ex is a psyche ghost, a mind specter, a subconscious recurrence of the un-undead (or not dead… or maybe even undying-not-undead… I’ll ponder the perfect metaphor later, I think), an unwanted apparition appallingly unapologetic in its unappealing and antagonistic appearances. I imagine the cause of the haunting or the inspiration behind the Haunting Ex differs from person to person, ranging from such cliché cataclysms as ‘the one that got away’ to ‘the one that burst thru my bony ribcage blasting thru my still living torso, her hand like a living bullet like simile, obliterating my beating heart, desecrating my belief in trust, shattering my respect for love, bludgeoning the seal cub of friendship, leaving a fractured, scarred and confused filled mess of a husk in her wake’ (um, you know, hypothetically speaking) to ‘the one that won’t let go’. It just depends on the situation.
Anywho, my haunting takes the form of surprises in dreams of unfulfilled futures or startled memories sprung from the vastness of my deep subconscious (where they should be repressed until forgotten for the love of ALL!! [pant, hiccup]), triggered by some innocuous comment, sentimental song or languishing landmark (yes, landmarks can languish.. I’ve seen it).
My haunting sometimes makes me smile whimsically, but most times makes me frown frightfully or often makes me quiver in a rage so deep, so fierce that the sound of grinding teeth startles me and I blink, blink away the spots from my sight and calm myself with breathing exercises learned from the many and varied Kung Fu films of my youth ( I sometimes think that if the Karate Kid tried that crazy ‘sand da fwl-oh’ on me, I’d stomp the creep so far he'd want me for Swayze's role in the Outsiders .. but, then again, he’d probably get me with that whole ‘pain da fens’ thing). On, more rare occasions, my curiosity will peek, and I’ll do a little cyber stalking and find out what I can about the Haunting Ex ( Idaho, horses, kids, probably in a militia ).
However, no matter what feeling I have after a specific haunt, never do I wish anything but the best for my Haunting Ex.
1. Haunting Ex – From the Greek Hauntingus Expectalutus, meaning, ‘why the hell can’t I just forget!’
2. Stalking Ex – From the Latin Syko Biznach, meaning, ‘For the love of God, NO!!’
3. Benefits Ex – From the Latin Benafacto Sexaloticis, meaning, ‘Hells Yeah!’
Thursday, October 19, 2006
Guess what?
The trouble with this time of year is that its very distracting. I mean, as far as posting these blog type thingies. Fall happens to be my favorite time of year, for a variety of reasons: the weather is awesome, football is back (hallelujah), multiple family/friends birthdays, Halloween (most awesome-est of days), new dramedies (Studio 60; discover it and rejoice) etc. All of which make it difficult for me to focus on one particular topic long enough to have a vaguely, or otherwise, coherent thought. Luckily, I have one characteristic that allows me to focus, even during the most distracting of circumstances. Yes, if you guessed narcissism as that specific quality, you guessed correctly. So, on that note, lets talk about me.
Today is my birthday, which makes me a Libra (only the most envied of all signs .. and by envied, I mean dead sexiest). There are lots of Libra’s in my life (dad, daughter, ex-wife, GKL, RB, aunt, haunting exGF, etc) which only reinforces my theory that excellence seeks out excellence (in the examples, there are obvious exceptions).
Also, today, I found out that my old HS is inducting me into the Athletic Hall of Fame (includes such notaries as Aaron Smith, Alex Molden, Bobby Muhammed aka Bobby Thomas, Anthony Roberson, etc) early next year. While the gents that I’ve listed (not to mention those that I haven’t) have gone on to have great athletic careers and/or great success, my own highlights tend to still be limited to my HS days. In other words, I’m like Al Bundy forever boasting about 4 touchdowns in one game, er, without the boasting nor the touchdowns. Not to say that I’m not successful, I mean, I’ve received my Masters degree (and I still say people should refer to me as ‘Master’ much like they call those with doctorate degrees ‘Doctor’), I have beautiful well adjusted(mostly)children, good job, my own home, etc etc. Its just that, athletically, when compared to a Super Bowl champion and an NFL first round draft pick, somehow Gym basketball pick-up All-Star (minus the All-Star) just doesn’t seem to measure up. But, I guess the pickings must be rather slim, so, I’m in! And, you know what, I’m not complaining.
Today is my birthday, which makes me a Libra (only the most envied of all signs .. and by envied, I mean dead sexiest). There are lots of Libra’s in my life (dad, daughter, ex-wife, GKL, RB, aunt, haunting exGF, etc) which only reinforces my theory that excellence seeks out excellence (in the examples, there are obvious exceptions).
Also, today, I found out that my old HS is inducting me into the Athletic Hall of Fame (includes such notaries as Aaron Smith, Alex Molden, Bobby Muhammed aka Bobby Thomas, Anthony Roberson, etc) early next year. While the gents that I’ve listed (not to mention those that I haven’t) have gone on to have great athletic careers and/or great success, my own highlights tend to still be limited to my HS days. In other words, I’m like Al Bundy forever boasting about 4 touchdowns in one game, er, without the boasting nor the touchdowns. Not to say that I’m not successful, I mean, I’ve received my Masters degree (and I still say people should refer to me as ‘Master’ much like they call those with doctorate degrees ‘Doctor’), I have beautiful well adjusted(mostly)children, good job, my own home, etc etc. Its just that, athletically, when compared to a Super Bowl champion and an NFL first round draft pick, somehow Gym basketball pick-up All-Star (minus the All-Star) just doesn’t seem to measure up. But, I guess the pickings must be rather slim, so, I’m in! And, you know what, I’m not complaining.
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