Wednesday, March 31, 2010
I know that it sounds like Mark walks on water in the kitchen from the way I write about him, but he does stumble once in a while and screws things up. That's how he learns. His bad mood today was brought on earlier this afternoon by Paula Deen. For the second time Mark had followed a recipe from one of her cook books, only to have it fail miserably. He was making some kind of super fattening, sugar and lard filled cookie, and instead of turning out like the beautiful photo in the cook book, they came out of the oven as flat little patties. That brought on his first tirade of the day, where he cursed "that stupid, hillbilly, bitch", and swore she never baked anything that she put in her cook books. So by the time dinner burned, Mark was on a hair trigger, and since Paula Deen doesn't live with us he decided to take it out on me. The funny thing is that even though he burned the beef for the stew he was making, it still came out even better than the beef stew that he usually makes. It was delicious. You know, maybe he can walk on water in that kitchen.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Up until I was fourteen, I never knew that movies had an actual start and finish. You see my dad had a problem getting his brood to the theater when the movie actually started, and we would almost always walk in halfway through whatever John Wayne movie he had brought us to. There we would sit watching the big climatic battle scene, where John Wayne would save the country from the Confederates/Indians/Japs/Germans without a clue as to what led up to it. We would then sit through the first half of the same movie, figuring out what connection each scene had to that finale we had already watched, knowing who was a dead man, and who would live. Just when things were all falling into place, and we were gearing up to watch that big battle scene again, my dad would pop up out of his seat, and announce, "Well, this is where we came in. Let's go!" That's why I love my DVD player, and Blockbuster. I get to watch the whole movie right from the start, including all the previews, and I can pause it when I need to take a leak, or refill my cocktail.
So it's off to Blockbuster this morning for Mark. I hope he doesn't bring home 'Alvin and the Chipmunks; A Squeaquel'. I'd have to pause that one quite a few times to freshen my cocktail, just to make it entertaining.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Last Wednesday I was at the Abandoned Pet Rescue shelter, and they asked me if I would like to take a dog to the neighborhood dog walking party on Saturday morning. "Sure!", I replied. Coffee, donuts, and the company of a bunch of dogs, what's not to like? Later in the day, back at the house, the tree cutters came by for the annual trimming of the trees. When they were all done, the old guy who owns the tree company came over to me and told me that if I paid in cash, he'd give me a fifty dollar discount. "Sure!", I replied. As long as he could wait until I went to the bank the next day, I could do that.
Saturday morning, I'm laying in bed, half awake, when the dog starts barking wildly. Someone is at the door. It's the tree guy, "You got the money?" How embarrassing. I never forget to pay my bills. On more than one occasion I have had to knock on a tenant's door, five days past when the rent was due, and ask for my money the whole time thinking 'What an asshole'. Is this what Mr. Manley Tree Company was thinking of me right now? What was worse is that I had totally forgot to go to the bank, so I didn't even have the cash to give him. "I'm sorry, I'll have it by this afternoon."
Three hours later, after Mark and I had made a run to the bank, and done some shopping at Lowes for my new bathroom, I am riding along in the car. Out the car window I see somebody walking a happy, tail wagging, big, black Lab. "Shit!", I shout out, remembering much too late, and startling Mark. Over at Abandoned Pet Rescue, a poor orphan dog has had his bath, and is all dressed up in his cute little bandanna, waiting for some schmuck to take him to the dog walking party. But the schmuck never showed up. Now I really feel bad.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
As for me, I am just glad to see family visit. The best part about my family is that they all drop in quickly, and disappear after a reasonable amount of time. What more could you ask for. In fact I usually spend more time cleaning up the house than they actually spend visiting. I still have more cleaning to do, the bathroom is still dirty, so I'll have to end this here. If it was a nephew visiting I could probably blow off cleaning the bathroom, but you know, a niece, a girl. I'll probably have to clean it up as well as I did for Dennis.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
A few months back my mom casually said to me, "Alan, I wish you would let your hair grow a little longer, and maybe put a little 'Just For Men' in there to darken it. You look so old with the short hair and grayness." Well, I figured it out immediately, "You want me to look younger so that you will look younger, right?" My mom let out a little chuckle, and agreed "I can't have such old children, besides I like your hair a little longer." Who is this lady? What did you do with the woman who hated my long hair forty years ago?
So the truth is that yes, I used some of that stuff called 'A Touch of Gray', on the hair that I've been letting grow out a little longer over the past few months. Mom was right, I do look better and have got a few positive comments on my upgraded look. Now if they only had something called 'A touch of Abs' to smear on that jelly belly I've been nurturing.
Monday, March 22, 2010
So this weekend I dug two new post holes, put in two new posts, poured concrete around them, and re-hung the gate. I think I did a pretty nifty job, and for all the half-assed jobs I've done around here I think this one turned out pretty good. After all, I was only one eighth of an inch off, and the gate almost closes perfectly if you give it a good shove. The big problem came later. It seems that my actually doing some physical labor out in the front yard inspired Mark to go out and do some landscaping.
Here is how our home is divided. Mark has full say on how the inside is decorated, and what the back yard looks like. I get to take care of the front yard, and I get to pay all the expenses associated with maintaining the house. Fair enough, so when Mark started screwing with my front yard I kind of went nuts and yelled at him. "What the hell are you doing? Quit blowing all those leaves out into the parking lot!", I shouted. Mark ignored me and continued to blow crap all around, creating a huge mess out front. Well, from there things went down hill fast, and within minutes we were cursing at each other, and making disparaging remarks about each others physical abilities. The argument finally came to a head when we got to the point of locking each other out of the house, and screaming insane insults at each other. At this point, despite the neighbors clamoring for more entertainment, we finally calmed down and went inside.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
This afternoon I took Mark out to lunch, in part to apologize for a perceived insult I threw his way yesterday. Apparently telling someone they don't have a pot to piss in is considered one of the worst insults ever meted out, according to Mark. Now mind you, I meant it as an all inclusive, not having a pot to piss in, meaning I don't either. After all, if Mark is piss pot-less, so am I. Anyway, it made for a frosty ride to the airport yesterday, and a quiet plane ride back home. Just for the record, Mark does have a pot to piss in, and in fact has more than enough pots to piss in. That was the gist of my 'insult'. You don't have to shop for any more crap Mark, you have enough!
So back to Mark and his being high strung. While sitting in our favorite little French cafe waiting for our lunch, Mark was sipping his iced tea and chatting away. What Mark forgot to do is stop sipping long enough to let the constant cascade of words out. Suddenly while yakking away, Mark's face turned red and he jumped up out of his chair, coughing and hacking. He had literally inhaled his iced tea. As Mark danced around the table, spewing iced tea all over me, the lady sitting behind us, in the most sincere of ways, asked "Is he alright?" "Yes." I replied, "He's just a big drama queen." It turns out that calling Mark a drama queen is also an insult. I'm not sure where I'll take him out tomorrow to make up for this one, but I guarantee it won't be the same restaurant where we went to lunch today.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Years ago, when I first started flying, all tickets were the same price. Nobody who paid $400 was sitting next to someone who only paid $98, and once the plane was in the air, you were showered with free sodas, water, and a meal served on a nice little dish with real flatware. Of course, back then I would have been writing this on a clunky old typewriter. Times have changed.
My first inkling that Spit airlines was going to nickel, and dime me to death was after buying the low cost ticket that was advertised. Immediately after purchasing the ticket online, a screen came up that asked if I wanted to choose my seat now. Sure, let's get to it, and I clicked on two seats. $64 was immediately added to the price of my airfare. Welcome to the new age of air travel where buying a ticket to the plane doesn't buy you a seat. I wondered, do they have straps hanging from the ceiling like on the subway? After giving in to the fact that I was going to be charged for sitting, I decided I might as well go ahead and buy one of the most comfortable seats up front. After all, I was just getting over the boil on my ass, and I figured if I have to pay, I might as well be comfy. It was when we got on board that I realized just how greedy and petty Spit airlines was. They not only charged me six dollars for a little bottle of vodka, if I wanted a vodka/soda I had to order a separate can of club soda for another three dollars. The real shocker came later when the guy across the aisle asked the flight attendant for a cup of water. It seems that after waiting three hours on the ground for our flight to take off, and the actual flight taking an hour longer than advertised because the pilot had to fly around weather, the poor guy was thirsty. "I'm sorry sir," she told him, "I can't give you water. We're only allowed to give a passenger water if they have to take a pill." I watched in amazement as everyone within earshot suddenly had to take a pill. I of course chimed right in, except I let her know that my doctor wanted me to wash it down with some vodka. The final bill for this flight to Chicago was $628. I could have flown a real airline for more than $100 less. No more Spit for me, ever.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Mark is constantly amazed at the fact that Chandler knows words, and is always showing this off to our friends by shouting out "Squirrel!". He does it just to make Chandler run around the house, looking up and under the furniture for the little rodent while Mark laughs and giggles. If Mark is still feeling he needs to point out our dog's knowledge of the English language, he will shout "Lizard!", which basically will elicit the same response, or "Walkies!", which makes Chandler run over to the door and do circles. Despite my objections that this will only dilute the meaning of those words to Chandler, Mark keeps on teasing him this way. I guess it's only fair. This morning while walking through the mall with Mark I yelled "Sale! Fifty percent off!", Just to watch his head snap around.
Friday, March 12, 2010
I was reading about the tomato shortage up north because of all the cold weather down here in Florida. The funny thing is that Mark had given up on his garden and has neglected it for the last three months. I thought the whole thing was just a dead mass of weeds, but surprise! The hardy little bastards that wouldn't give up a single tomato last fall, started producing tomatoes. They hadn't been watered or given any attention whatsoever for over three months. Apparently benign neglect does work sometimes.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
South Florida Sun-Sentinel.com
State rep’s proposal would exclude gay-themed productions from tax creditThe Associated Press
7:43 AM EST, March 8, 2010
Copyright © 2010, South Florida Sun-Sentinel
It's amazing! They have no problem taking my tax dollars to educate their stupid little, brain washed, spoiled children. None of their churches pay any tax whatsoever, yet they want to inject their toxic religious values into every single facet of my life.
Mark and I cannot get legally married. We cannot legally adopt children. We are treated as much less than equal citizens and scorned by all the holier than thou, right wing-nuts who don't want 'those people' included in any of their tax largess. There are a lot of things I don't want my tax dollars spent on, but I don't get much of a say in that. The fact is that we all pay taxes with the knowledge that the money will be spent on things that don't directly benefit us. What I hate is knowing that I pay taxes on things that I know will be targeted to hurt me directly, because of who I am personally.
This is not 'Politics', this is about me.
This is not 'Politics', this is about me.
And now another news item.
Roy Ashburn: "I am gay"
BY CHRISTINE BEDELL, Californian government editor
| Monday, Mar 08 2010 12:05 PM
State Sen. Roy Ashburn said he was feeling "numb" mid-morning Monday after announcing to his constituents that he is gay. Ashburn, R-Bakersfield, came out Monday morning in an interview with talk radio host Inga Barks of AM 1180 KERN. The veteran Kern County lawmaker was similarly tight-lipped about the circumstances surrounding his drunken driving arrest early last Wednesday morning in Sacramento.
State Sen. Roy Ashburn
A Sacramento television station quoted unnamed sources last week as saying Ashburn had been at a gay night club. The California Highway Patrol reported a man it didn't identify was in the state-owned, black Chevrolet Tahoe Ashburn was driving when he was pulled over.
Ashburn has taken heat in the last week for having been both closeted and a consistent vote against gay-rights related legislation. In the interview, Ashburn repeatedly argued he voted the will of his constituents in his conservative 18th Senate District, which includes much of Bakersfield.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
This month I am attending the wedding of one of my nieces, and although she lives in Florida, I have to schlep all the way up to Chicago for this one. I guess I should be thankful she didn't have it back in January. This wedding is another in a long line of weddings I have attended over the last forty plus years, and will add another layer to the confusion I have as to who got married when, and where. In my mind they have all blended into one jumbled pile of churches, wedding chapels, and reception halls. I do have some clearer memories of the ones I attended in more recent times. That's mostly because I slowed way down on the marijuana and vodka as I got older. This time I don't plan on drinking hardly at all, and I may even take some photos. That's another strange thing, I have very few photos of any weddings that I have gone to, and I think it's because I was too busy drinking at the time. I'm sure if I ask around, my sisters all have pictures of me at their weddings with bloodshot eyes, and a drink in my hand.
Monday, March 8, 2010
This has been the coldest winter in my memory here in South Florida, so when the temperature finally climbed towards seventy degrees I ran around opening windows. 'Ahhh, fresh air', I thought. Within minutes the house filled up with the choking, sulfuric fumes of hot roofing tar. I went outside to see where the smell was coming from, and up on the roof of the building directly behind me were a dozen Mexican men busily spreading tar. Three days later, they were still up there working just as hard as the previous two days. In my swimming pool was a thick oil slick floating on top of the water, the two outdoor cats were hacking up tarry fur balls, and inside the house Mark was having terrible coughing fits. Yes, I thought, it’s springtime. There are two bad smells that actually trigger good feelings in me. First there is the smell of diesel exhaust, that mentally brings me back to the streets of Chicago, and all the fun I had there. Then there is the horrible, gagging smell of hot tar, that always reminds me of beautiful sunny spring days.
Friday, March 5, 2010
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
I just got done watching a program that I had recorded from Sunday night called Undercover Boss. It featured one of the owners of White Castle working undercover at various locations. I really didn't pay that much attention to the tear jerking stories in the show, because all through the program all I could think about was, 'I need a bag of sliders!'. This is genius product placement. An entire one hour show with constant close-ups of those greasy little burgers. At one point in the program they showed a White Castle that I used to go to in Chicago. That was when my eyes glazed over, and I started drooling uncontrollably. Yes I know they are disgusting, and bad for you, but I love them. Unfortunately the closest White Castle to my house is 860 miles away, so I will have to settle for the frozen ones that they sell here in the super market. But all is not lost. We have a trip to Chicago planned for this month, and I’m sure at some point I can convince Dennis to make a slider run with me. Later I’ll be doing the slider runs in Dennis’ bathroom, but that‘s another story.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Mark: "Get the hell off me kitty!"
Mark: "Goddamnit, that little bitch scratched me! I hate that cat!"
This was followed by the lights coming on, revealing the dog at the end of the bed, the cat skittering out the door, and Mark with a bloody little scratch on his arm. I have had Carlotta for seventeen years, and she has never hissed at me or scratched me. For some reason skinny little Carlotta, and skinny Mark just don't get along. She loves me, that's why she was curled up in the bed to begin with, but she and Mark barely tolerate each other.
It seems that when I raise a cat from a little kitten, they take on an obsessive personality about me. Before Carlotta, it was Nina. Nina didn't like anybody but me, and everyone who visited our home knew not to try and pet her because all they'd get is a loud hiss, and possibly some cat scratch fever. On the other hand, every full grown cat that I have adopted or rescued, is sweet as pecan pie. Fat Kitty is an all around lover, and the two girls outside will crawl all over you if you sit down out there. So is this a reflection on me? Am I an anti-social loser who projects his personality onto his kittens, who then grow up to be she-devils? I don't think so. I think it is because I am so sweet and lovable that Carlotta and Nina don't want to share me with anybody. And if you don't think I'm sweet and lovable, you can just go screw yourself.
Monday, March 1, 2010
About a month ago I noticed a rash on my buttocks, and despite using every cream I could find in the medicine cabinet, it continued to grow and increase in itching. I finally went to the doctor, and he told me it was a fungus. A fungus? All I could conjure up in my mind were a bunch of little mushrooms growing on my butt. It gave me the creeps. The doc gave me an antifungal cream and in just a few days the rash disappeared. Then last Wednesday something else popped up on my right ass cheek about the size of a potato. Reaching back and giving it an inspection by hand, I immediately thought to myself, "Holy crap, the fungus is back and this time it's huge." I figured it would go away with the cream, but within twenty four hours it had doubled in size, and every time I sat down it was like a knife jabbing me in the butt. Once again I was off to the doctor. "It's a boil, and has nothing to do with the fungus.", He advised me. So now I am on antibiotics and have to sit in the bathtub three times a day. The doctor told me it would come to a head and drain out, and if that didn't happen I should return and he'd lance it. I hope it goes away soon. I can't sit, I can't walk, and right now I am kneeling on the floor in front of the computer writing this. Maybe the draft board should have looked for guys with boils on their asses instead of deferring them. It would make them really mean and nasty. Just ask Mark.