Sunday Mop Up 10/29/06

It's a BEAUTIFUL Sunday here in Texas. The sun is shining brightly and, thanks to the cool front that passed through a few days ago, the humidity is almost non-existent. A lovely breeze is blowing from the North and I am in love with the world.

I'm hip-deep in domestic chores while all the windows to my townhouse are open and I have a load of whites working in the laundry room, so the whole downstairs has that Clorox scent going on. Although I'm still unshowered (cuz housework just gets me all sweaty anyways), I have a fresh pot of coffee made and I am savoring a huge mug of it now. A load of dishes are being dealt with in the dishwasher, and before all is said and done, the trash will be wrangled, a week's worth of shirts will be ironed, and I'm thinking the vacuum will make a cameo appearance. It is, after all, a cleaning lady week this week.

Man, I love my Sundays.

Daylight Savings Time

Maybe I'm extra chipper because we got an extra hour to burn as we saw fit last night. I had intended to sop that gravy up in deep slumber, because I LOVES me some sleep. Seriously. Sure, I can get by on 8 hours like the rest of humanity, but I'm most happy with a solid 10 hours under my belt. I know, I know, it's awful to waste time like that. However, last night, I ended up out on the town carousing, socializing, and being amongst "family", all without getting sucked into anything resembling a Halloween party anywhere. Yay! When my head hit the pillow at 4am, I smiled at the thought that it was really only 3am, and burrowed myself into my blankets and pillows and was out like a light until 11am this morning. That's not 10 hours, but it'll do!

Gaining the hour in October sure beats the shit out of losing that hour in April. Or is it March? Don't know, don't care at this point.

Thanksgiving Plans

I managed to commit myself to spending my favorite holiday of the entire year with my Dad in Florida this year. I hadn't really intended for this to happen, but I got an email from him a few weeks ago announcing that he and his wife wanted to come out for a visit before the end of this month. I am in no way prepared to host a visit with those two on such short notice.

[Don't get me wrong, I ADORE them. My father is, quite simply, the coolest motherfucker God ever put together. In my youth, he was a strict disciplinarian, task master, and absentee father and husband -thanks to the Air Force. Nowadays, he is making up for it by having turned into this warm, open, sensitive man whose patience and generosity seem to know no bounds. He divorced my mother nearly twenty years ago as an uptight, emotionally repressed individual who saw the world in stark black and white. He has mellowed and aged beautifully, like a fine single malt scotch, and I even feel a bit drunk when in his presence.

My therapist was quick to point out that my Dad is trying to make up for lost time, and is motivated by guilt about not being involved with his family as a younger man. My therapist was also quick to point out that his children have all placed the man on a pedestal due to abandonment issues. I've had to wonder if this abandonment issue has come into play with my interest in mature, older men. Am I trying to heal some rift I've felt with my own father?]

See, you need to be prepared for a visit from Dad. At 74 (I think), the man is a ball of fury and productivity, which he vents in home improvement projects. His wonderful wife is the same way. They'll tag-team you, I swear. The last time they stayed with me, the entire downstairs of my townhouse got repainted (that includes 16 foot ceilings in the livingroom, a huge kitchen, downstairs half-bath, the laundryroom, AND the stairway - baseboards and all trim as well, people!), old, nasty ceiling fans were removed, and light fixtures updated in the entryway, kitchen, stairwell, and upstairs hallway. They bought me new tools and kitchen accessories as well. They were here FOUR days.

I needed more than two weeks to prepare for another Home Depot Orgy. So, in an attempt to turn down the offer for a visit, I suggested that I might look into seeing IF I could get out there to them for Thanksgiving.

Well, 24 hours didn't pass before I started hearing from the rest of my family how thrilled Dad is that I am coming for Thanksgiving. It's a done deal, folks. My sisters have all reported in on the the plans. He's developing the intinerary as we speak. He'll make this a big deal, you can count on it. I get treated like a king. It's embarrassing. You know, I can't help but smile and get a "warm-fuzzy" knowing that my family loves each other as much as we do. That my Dad is that excited about me coming for a visit makes my heart sing, and my eyes roll at the same time.

There was a time in my life when I couldn't get far enough away from my family. Man, I'm SO over that. Okay, I'll admit it, I'm pretty danged excited, too.

Lack Of Vocabulary Or Tourette's Syndrome?

It has been pointed out to me that I'm pretty free and easy with the salty language around here. In fact, I've been accused of laziness in my writing for so quickly reverting to swearing instead of attempting to convey an idea with a more judicious choice of less-offensive descriptive words. Fuck that!

Well, maybe I should try to explain why I choose to write the way that I do, using the language that I do. Okay? Bear with me, then. Here we go:

The Rationalization

First of all, I'm not a very good writer. I lack the discipline and the brain power needed to write in an articulate, cohesive manner. I took one of those personality tests at one point in my life, and I'm a Feeler, not a Thinker. I use the language that I do here to communicate my emotions, rather than my thoughts. Because, let's face it, my thoughts tend to be half-assed incomplete. If I can share with you how I am feeling on any given day, I'm much more satisfied than whether I am concise and thorough in following any particular train of thought. Coarse language allows me to express anger, surprise, sexuality, vulgarity, and happiness with an easy-to-understand and direct emphasis.

Secondly, I am striving to write in a conversational tone here. I want what you read to sound to you like I'm speaking to you like friends on the phone, or over a cup of coffee. This is for two reasons - a) I'm a people pleaser and it's terribly important to me that you like me and want to be my friend, and b) I'm hopeful that, if you're heterosexual and uncomfortable with homosexuals, you might have found a gay perspective that makes you laugh enough that you can let your guard down a bit and maybe relate, in some way. Which leads to my third point...

The Third Point: cuss words are funny. Well, sometimes. If you don't go overboard. I know. I go overboard occasionally. But, HEY, this is tame compared to the rantings and ravings of SOME bloggers out here (not that I'm pointing fingers, I just sayin' is all- I love you, Laurie!).

Also, I'd like to mention that I consider myself a Spiritual kinda person. I've never felt more connected and tuned in to my relationship with God in my whole life. I happen to know that my Higher Power has spoken to me in some pretty crude ways.

"No shit kidding!" sayeth God.

Finally, I write this way because this is who I am and how I talk. Sure, I don't drop the f-bomb at work like I do here, but I also don't fart in my cubicle do other socially unacceptable things in a formal environment that I would do here.

Aren't you suddenly glad that blogs aren't smellable?

So, if my choice of verbage has offended you here, I'm truly sorry. I doubt that I can change, or that I want to.

Snack Time At The Office

Good grief, there's just no excuse, I should know better!

Are You Watching Yet?

Because you are, like, SO fucking up if you aren't! Monday nights, 9pm EST - 8pm CST on NBC.

Let's Talk About Oral Hygiene

Okay, I admit, I'm a freak about it. I don't care how hot and sexy you think you are, if your teeth have crud, I'm not getting in your face. Teeth, breath, lips, and tongue are a major thing in my world. Good oral hygiene is an absolute must. I can't help it. If I were ever kissed by someone with a pierced tongue, I'm fairly certain I would throw up in their mouth. It's just a guess, but let's not find out, okay?

So like, for years, I've known about the new generation of electric toothbrushes. You know, the Sonicare and Oral B brushes. My ex had the Sonicare when we were together. It did an adequate job, I suppose. I had even tried it. But I had convinced myself that nothing automatic can replace good old elbow-grease. When I brush my teeth, I want to exert pressure and scrub those fuckers. I make a mess, I really do. I brush in the shower so that all the toothpaste shrapnel doesn't end up all over the mirror, the plumbing, the floor, etc. I was a dedicated manual brusher.

"Foo!" on those new-fangled contraptions, said I.

Maybe I should mention that it didn't help that those electric things cost around seventy bucks, american. Oh, hell no! Give me a three dollar jobbie and a tube of Crest and back the fuck up, cuz I've got some brushing to get to!

Well, shut me up! Oral B, by Braun, is now making a CHEAPER version of their expensive model. Twenty bucks. Saw one at my local groery store. Has the head that not ONLY spins around and around, but part of it saws back and forth at the same time. I approve of the work ethic there. It's called the "Vitality", and I'm telling you folks, this baby ROCKS! I called my dentist to speak with my hygienist to get her opinion. She heartily endorses the product! She says she sees no difference between the results she has seen from the expensive model compared to the Vitality, and this woman looks in A LOT of mouths! I've been working the hell out of mine for over a week now, and it is really holding up to my rigorous use. If you don't have one, or have been holding out because of the price of the things: wait no longer. Everyone should own one of these bad boys.

And, by the way, if Braun ever came out with an Anal B, I'd be the first in line.

-Thank you for shopping at jimmycity!

Sunday Mop Up 10/22/06

Hi. Jim here. How are ya? Hope you are well. Me? Balls to the wall. Here's a little run-down of things I've been thinking about this week, but didn't have the time (or energy) to post:

Gas Prices

I got really excited this week when I found gas at $1.99 a gallon. Seriously excited. I mean, remember that SNL commercial about the luxury car that you could, you know, hump? Well, fortunately, I wasn't tall enough to make that work cuz, you know, the gas tank hole-thingy is pretty high up the side of the truck. But still, I was pretty turned on. Two dollar a gallon gas is significant in my world. Earlier this year, when gas hovered around 3 dollars a gallon, it cost me a little over 65 bucks to fill my tank. I do this at least three times a month. At 2 dollars, it costs me just a smidge over 45 bucks to fill up. Saving twenty bucks a fill up saves me 60 bucks a month. That, my friends, is cabbage not to be scoffed at. That is leafy green that can be used in other meaningful ways.

But, after the initial giddy goofiness passed, I started asking myself some questions. Like: How can gas prices fall by an entire third and it not devastate the oil industry? Why aren't we hearing about oil companies worried about lay offs and economic disaster? How can an industry survive when it's product's price has been slashed by 33%? Could this be proof that gas prices have been artifically high? That we, as consumers, have been milked and suckered and fucking robbed? And, why are prices NOW dropping? Has demand dropped that significantly? Did gas prices fall like this last year? Am I reacting like a Conspiracy Freak when I am suspect of the timing of this trend right before a major election?

Look, as long as our government remains controlled by Republicans, Big Business can do whatever the fuck they want. Conservatives treat Capitalism like a religion, which makes Corporate America the clergy. "De-regulation" is one of the Ten Commandments. "Market Forces" is the new "Holy Spirit".The problem with that is that it has all become corrupted. I believe that the oil industry has a vested interest in keeping Republicans in control of the country. So, they are backing off of their rape and pillage business model until after the elections.
A vote against the Republicans this election is, really, a vote opposing the gluttony, greed, and arrogance of Wall Street and the Board Room.

There is more to America than the Almighty Dollar. Government has a duty to watch, protect, and serve.

Are you being served, or patronized and toyed with?

Please vote in November.

Homophobia

Dear Straight Guys,

Don't be afraid of us. No need to hate us, either. Accepting that there are people out in the world that like to do things sexually that you wouldn't do in a million years does not make YOU gay. Frankly, some of the shit that you are into makes some of us scratch our heads as well. It's all good. Do you obsess all day long about what kind of sex your other straight friends are having with their wives? Of course not. Then, quit obsessing on what gay consenting adults do with and to each other. You know, if sucking cock is so shameful, tell your girlfriend/wife/mother/sister to knock it off as well, okay?

And, for that matter, get OVER the idea that some gay guy is looking at you and thinks you're hot. Cuz, you're probably not, and that's probably not what the gay guy is thinking. But if he is thinking that and he does look at you like that?... it's a compliment, you fucktard! Chances are, you pull the same shit on women at your office all day long. How does it feel to be sexually objectified? That's right, you can be sextoy eyecandy and there's not a damned thing you can do about it. Deal with it. If one of us gropes, fondles, or caresses you, feel free to go ballistic. Kick the ass of ANYone who makes unwanted physical advances on you, and doesn't take "no", or "no way", or "back off!" as an answer. But, until then, shut the fuck up.

Late Edition Addition: Thanks, by the way, for inseminating women and keeping the planet populated. Mad props for that!

Halloween

It's a shame that my favorite month of the year is host to the holiday I dislike the most. Halloween was ruined for me when I was a bouncer in my 20's (that was in the 80's, folks) in several straight bars that featured live bands .Yes, Halloween is a drunken clusterfuck of idiots who feel it is their God-given right to drink and drive, drink and hit on women they don't stand a chance with, drink and fight, and drink and puke in public.

One thing that made Halloween worse than any other drunk, stupid amateur-drinking holiday (say, for example, New Year's Eve) is the costumes. The lack of imagination in this area by the general public is truly horrifying to many a card carrying fag. Watch closely this year: count how many pathetic Captain Jack Sparrows you see. Then, mock them to their faces. Please. Also, keep an eye out for the dork who is dressed up as a feminine sanitary napkin or tampon. That fucker is NOT to be trusted. By anyone.

I also think Halloween is the night that men who long to dress in women's clothing are given a free pass. You aren't called a "tranvestite" on Halloween, and there are LOTS of guys, gay and straight, who have figured that out.

But, costume selection aside, the most dangerous aspect of Halloween to a bouncer is the acoutrement, or props, that accompany the costumes. I have seen light sabers, feather boas, and turkey legs all become WMDs in the hands of drunk morons.

And yet, beyond that, the real reason I have no patience with Halloween is because I feel this is a CHILDREN'S holiday. This is a holiday that we adults have robbed kids of and co-opted for ourselves. Magic and horror and fantasy and tricks and treats: this is a holiday to celebrate youthful naivete, imagination, pranksterism, and chaos. - THEIR chaos, not OURS. Our chaos fills up the calendar all year long. This is a holiday about kids eating sugar until they get sick, not you drinking until you blow chunks.

Now, don't get me wrong, I have no objection to costume parties. I have no objection to adults imbibing in alcoholic beverages. Trust me, most weekends in most gay bars in most metropolitan cities are Halloween anyway. I've seen Itchy do Scratchy in a dark corner of a club, witnessed Hagrid molest Gollum (and no costumes were involved - not for the faint of heart!). No big deal. Just not my cup o' tea, thanks. I'd rather be around a bunch of little kids, eyes wide at the prospect of roaming door to door in the neighborhood, collecting a stash of candy that, if planned carefully, could last until Thanksgiving!

If you are going out to the bars this year, please be careful. And, give the bouncer a break, huh?

Catching Up After Taking Time Off

I always end up regretting taking a little vacation, because when I get back to work, the shit is just STACKED UP on me. I'm up to my ass in playing "catch-up" right now. Stressed out, baby!

And, because The Universe is taking care of me, Post Secret shared this:

virtual bubblewrap (click it)

Be sure and check out "Manic Mode" and get a fresh sheet!

Sunday Mop Up 10/15/06

Don't Ask, Don't Tell

. I'm back from my weekend and, no, I don't want to talk about it.

Thanks.

The Texas State Fair

I've lived in this state since 1979. Not once in that time have I made the pilgramage to Dallas for the Texas State Fair. I'd say it's about time, wouldn't you?

I leave Friday morning and won't be back until late Sunday night. I'm traveling up with some friends and we're staying with other friends. I'm excited.

Maybe I'll accrue a few stories during this little adventure.

Stories I can tell.

Without incrimminatin' myself or others.

I make no promises.

See ya next week!

Let's Be Clear About This

Mark Foley, Congressional Jack-Off

This isn't about being a closeted homosexual. This is about being a hypocrite, a pederast, and a sleaze. This scandal would have been every bit as damning if he had been caught having cybersex with a female, but I wonder if it would have generated as much attention? I am fed up with the whole "Oh! He's a homo!" slant that everyone wants to focus on. Fuck that. He's a SEXUAL PREDATOR who deserves no sympathy or support.

And, by the way, they are EVERYWHERE. Hell, our culture grows them by the bushel basket. We sexualize our kids. We worship Youth. The younger, the better. I'm suspicious that this scandal is being touted merely for political benefit. You don't think the Democratic party is chock full of dirty old men as well? C'mon!

This isn't a Republican vs. Democrat issue. This scandal isn't merely a Power Elite vs. Public Servant issue. It goes WAY beyond that. This dirty little secret has been ignored and excused for too long and it permeates society. Grown trolls, regardless of their sexual orientation, preying upon the young and impressionable, using their power for sexual gains: it makes me sick.

This isn't a "gay" issue. This is everyone's issue.

Sunday Mop Up 10/08/06

Money

I’ve lived the past week on cash, since my debit card was lost along with my wallet and checkbook last weekend. This proved to be a bigger pain in the ass than I had suspected. Keeping cash on my person wasn’t the real issue. What I hated was, when I paid for things in cash, people were handing CHANGE back to me. I forgot how annoying it is to walk around with a pocketful of coins. I’ve "jingled" as I’ve walked all week. Grrr! Then, each night, I’ve had to unload 5 pounds of this metal out of my pants pockets. Grrr! And I know damned well that most of it is going to end up in the bottom of my washing machine, or clang around in my dryer when I do laundry. By the way: do we really need pennies anymore?

When they first came out, I was highly suspicious of debit cards. In fact, I refused to use one for years. Now, I can not fucking WAIT to get my replacement card. Lugging real money around sucks.

Music

Bought a new cd this week "Boys and Girls in America" by The Hold Steady. Imagine Bruce Springsteen from back in his "Greetings from Asbury Park" days being backed by Counting Crows with Angus Young from AC/DC sitting in. Kinda-sorta. (shrug!)

The singer doesn’t "sing" so much as ramble in a three or four note range, but his lyrics are amazingly powerful. His backing band is just brilliant. The guitarist and keyboard player alternately complement each other and compete to outshine each other. The arrangements for each song are intricate, lush, and almost epic in their construction. And, yet, it totally rocks! By no means a "sing along" kind of experience, this is music that you keep very still while listening to, because there is so much to take in. Nice to hear a fresh rock and roll record again.

If you are interested, you can check them out at this site and hear the whole album.

Mom

She phoned to tell me that she has a cat now. My mom, the Great Dane aficionado, has switched to Siamese cats. Ookay… She found this cat at The Humane Society. I love it when people rescue animals. I’m proud of her. This is a woman who, numerous times in her life, has spent hundreds and hundreds and HUNDREDS AND HUNDREDS of dollars on a single pedigreed puppy.

She called this week and spent half of our conversation TALKING TO THE CAT (remind me to tell you sometime about how I feel about people who talk "baby talk" to their pets). She’s been feeling lonely and admittedly depressed, so I am pleased she has a new companion. That cat is gonna have an interesting life.

My Blog

BlogAmp has announced that they are going to start charging for their service starting October 15th. So, don't be surprised if "jimmy's jukebox" just up and vanishes one of these days in the very near future.

I’ve added a little slide-show thang up in the right hand corner of the page. As new pics of me surface, I’ll add them there. This is a big deal to me, because I am WAY camera shy and hate having my picture taken. But, in a continuing effort to love and accept myself for who I am, I shall step out of my "comfort zone" and display my mug for anyone who happens by to see. Hoo-rah? Yikes!

Shame On Me!

Okay, blame this on me being a lazy slug who is avoiding actually WRITING something this week, but I had such a giggle with Violated By Bears Man (see below), that I checked out the website of the guys who produced it. And I found this little gem.

Yes, I promised a while back to stop slapping YouTube videos up on my blog as a cheap diversion to hide the fact that writing is hard work and I'm way over my head trying to keep this blog-thang up on its feet. Sorry.

Tomorrow is Sunday and I'll find something sticky and viscous to mop up for you then. Meanwhile: Enjoy!

Tech Support

Meet "Violated By Bears Man"!

Thanks to the HUGELY popular Joe.My.God for pointing this out to his readers.

I've gotta get me one of those t-shirts!

My Secret Name

Okay. I went to http://www.wordsmith.org/anagram/, where there is an anagram program and I typed in my name.

Folks, I kid you not, I am:

Rim Jedi

If they ever make a sci-fi gay porn Star Wars,

and need a big, hairy guy,

-I'm kinda "Wookie"-

I'm SET!

yay!

At Least I'm Not Big Bird!

You Are Cookie Monster

Misunderstood as a primal monster, you're a true hedonist with a huge sweet tooth. You are usually feeling: Hungry. Cookies are preferred, but you'll eat anything if cookies aren't around. You are famous for: Your slightly crazy eyes and unusual way of speaking How you live your life: In the moment. "Me want COOKIE!"

The Sesame Street Personality Quiz

Sunday Mop Up 10/01/06

I wonder what my horoscope says about this?

Okay, last week it was my glasses, which I found. This weekend The Unthinkable happened. I lost my wallet.

Now, by "wallet", I mean my checkbook. Yes, I'm one of those morons who runs around with my checkbook in my backpocket. I use my checkbook as my wallet. All my credit cards and personal ids are in it.

It's not like I write checks anymore. Hell, my debit card has replaced my need for checks. Mostly. I had to write a check to the plumber who unclogged my hot water line in the shower a week ago and just yesterday, I wrote a check for a pizza for lunch. Later that day, I was buzzing around town shopping and running errands. Stopped at a convenience store for a bottle of water and a roll of Tums (the "Sicilian Meat Lovers" pizza from Papa John's was chewing a hole in my gut). I paid with my debit card, then used the restroom, since I was there and all. A half hour later at another store, I reached for my checkbook. Not in my back pocket.

I ran to the truck and scoured it, not there. I remembered the trip to the men's room and called the convenience store. The Iranian dude looked while I was on the line, and it wasn't there. He said more than a handful of people had used the restroom since I was just there. I drove like a madman back to the store, checked the parking lot where I had parked, looked in the restroom myself, and then began looking through the trash barrels in the parking lot. And the dumpster, thank you very much. I've been face to face with WAY to much garbage in the past week.

Heavy sigh. I knew what I needed to do.

I started with my bank. They cancelled the debit card. They asked what the check numbers of the UNUSED checks were that were in the checkbook. Huh? Are you kidding me? I didn't fucking know that! I did know that I had written a check earlier in the day for the pizza that was trying to eat its way out of my abdomen at that very minute. I called Papa John's to get that check number. Any number after that would be a check number to put a "stop" on, right? My check had been put into a deposit bag and I would have to wait until the store closed for the manager to take the time to go through that bag and find my check. Cuz afterall it was, like, 9pm on a Saturday night, and they were up to their asses making PIZZAS right then. Fair enough. I told the manager that I'd call back after midnight to get that information.

Then it was the credit cards. Kids, I have a slew of credit cards, and every one of those puppies was kept in my checkbook. Cards I haven't used in YEARS. Sonuvabitch! I promised myself that from this point forward, I will only carry a regular billfold and only have the bare minimum of shit in it. I had to call 6 different credit card companies and wade through Phone Tree Hell with every fucking one. AND explain my retarded Tale Of Woe AND verify my identity by answering a shitload of questions. By the way, am I a bad son for not knowing the year in which my father was born? AND, by the way, how does CitiBank know that, if I never did? AND, by the way, how much other shit do they know about me that I never told them???

It took all night. I was talking to Pakistani Customer Out-Sourced Service until way past 1 am. By comparing the number on the pizza check to the number to the first number on my next book of blanks, I was able to give my bank the numbers of the blank checks in the checkbook. I've gotten everything squared away, for now, except one credit card. It'll be just my luck that whoever picked my wallet up, runs off to Rooms To Go and charges up $7,500 dollars worth of livingroom and bedroom furniture. But, that card's customer service department is closed until Monday morning, and I'm just gonna have to wait to close the card until then. Then, I start the process of replacing my driver's license, heath insurance card, voter registration card, and YMCA badge.

I lost some car wash coupons, a Buy 10 And Get One Free card from a sandwich shop (no biggie, I was only up to my third sandwich), my eyeglass prescription, my next dental appointment reminder, my sushi discount card, my tanning bed membership, and the phone number of this really hot guy I met at the leather bar one night a year ago that I never summoned the balls to call.

Now, I've got a twenty dollar bill, a half of a tank of gas, the other half of that abomination of a pizza, and a half a roll of Tums to get me through until I can get to the bank Monday morning. That's do-able.

Moral of the story: Travel light, Jim. And, avoid public restrooms at all costs.

If It's Friday Night...It Must Be High School Football!!!

I just got in the door from a memorable evening. An evening spent with two dear friends in the stands of a high school football game. My first high school football game in over 30 years, mind you.

The last high school football game I was at on a Friday night was one I was in. My life back then was centered around football. It engulfed me from early April until late November. I've written about it here in the past. I won't bore you with all of that again.

My best friend in the entire world calls me up the other day and asks if I'd like to go see his daughter do her thing with her dance troupe during half-time at the football game of the high school she attends. As luck would have it, I could attend, and so I did. I didn't think for a second about having Football Flashbacks or High School Hallucinations. I was just thrilled that my friend and I were going to get to spend some time together. Then, I found out that his ex-wife, a fabulous person who I haven't seen in years, would be there as well. Back in "The Day", the three of us logged many, many hours hanging out together. I was their pothead friend who never knew when it was time to go home. The guy who spilled beer on the carpet and burned a hole in the sofa with a joint. Remember that guy in your life? Well, that guy was me.

So, I found myself tonight, sitting amongst a crowd of proud parents, self-involved teenagers, and awe-struck gradeschoolers, watching the pageantry that is High School Football with two people whose most easily-accessed memory of me involved Pink Floyd's "The Wall" and the lingering smell of dirty bongwater. It was, like, layers of weirdness for me, because I was reminded of things I used to be, but no longer am.

I LOVED every second of it.

I loved the chaos of the crowd, but was drawn immediately to the exhilaration of the players - they were SO excited to be suited up, like warriors, in pads and helmets. They jumped up and down before the game began, and smacked their helmeted heads together. I couldn't help by chuckle at the littlest and scrawniest. Some of them were 5'5" or 5'6" and maybe weighed 140 pounds. Didn't matter. These boys meant business!

The cheerleaders kept busy performing for the crowd, chanting things which I had a real difficult time deciphering (I swear to God, at one point a cheer was about someone having "big lips" - I think...Maybe I'm just going deaf in my old age...), shaking their pom-poms (because nothing says "spirit" more than looking like you've got Parkinson's Disease), waving to their boyfriends in the stands, and checking their hair - both their own, and each others. These young ladies also meant business.

The band pulled off what I simply must refer to as a Clusterfuck during half-time. As if playing your instrument while standing up isn't challenging enough, what sadist decided that making these kids march forwards, backwards, side-to-side, in between each other - to form moving representations of Davy Crockett at The Alamo and the signing of the Declaration of Independence - was a good idea? There was a group of kids twirling flags. Another group twirling staffs, or batons. Another group doing an interpretive dance that had me completely confused. It was a swirl of movement and color and I had no idea what the hell was happening, but I was laughing and hooting and allowing the hoopla to wash over me. How they pulled it off, I'll never know, but one thing was certain: the band was amazing. When the Band Nerd parents cheered, I cheered right along with them.

When my friend's daughter, Emily, and her dance troupe came out, my jaw hit the floor. Here was a little girl whom I recall as being about 3 years old now all grown up, in a sparkley costume with a low cut front and showing leg all the way up to her neck, dancing like a poised and talented young woman. All smiles and jazz hands. Oh, my God, she was beautiful and I was old. The routine was to a version of AC/DC's "You Shook Me All Night Long" which, until you've heard done on trumpet and trombone, you just haven't heard!

Her parents, my friends, beamed. And I beamed, too. Everybody in the stands over 40 was beaming at somebody, at some point. Suddenly, I wanted to parent a teenager. For, like, 30 seconds, maybe. I get carried away, you know.

Something interesting I found out was that this high school is being used by the producers of the fall television series "Friday Night Lights", which premieres Tuesday night. The school is very excited about this. Their school, locker rooms, auditorium, and some football game coverage, will be featured throughout the season. Lots of filming is occurring and kids are hoping they'll be seen on the show. Now I'll be glued to my set on Tuesday nights as well, looking for shots of Emily.

And I doubt this will be my last high school football game.

It was just wonderful.

Monday Night television

I work around tv all day long. I work for the Programming department of a cable company. Hence, when I get home from work, the last thing I want to do is turn the boobtube on. In this age of Reality tv and CrimeScene television shows, I REALLY don't want anything to do with most of prime time network television.

HBO is more my style. Their original series seem..well, original.

But, there are some things I will watch. "My Name is Earl" delights me. "Grey's Anatomy" is a guilty pleasure (the plotlines are weak, but the actors elevate the material. And the music soundtrack is, week after week, brilliant).

But I have found myself rooting for two new shows that fall on Monday night on NBC: "Heroes" and "Studio 60 On The Sunset Strip".

"Heroes"

Normal people start discovering they have unusual powers. An jananese guy can teleport, a cheerleader cannot be cut, stabbed, burned, or have her bones broken. A painter can see the future. Comicbook soap opera. Probably sounds pretty dumb. I'm digging its heart and spirit.

"Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip"

The guy who brought us "The West Wing" puts on a show about a show, as he did with "SportsNight". This is about a live comedy show, a la SNL. I'm sorry, but this guy can write. "The West Wing" was infused with politics, current events, and tugged on our sense of patriotism and idealism. It's doubtful that "Studio 60" will reach the level of "West Wing", but I just love to watch this guy work. I'm a fan. I'm not sure this is going to succeed, but I'll be watching.

Who Wants Pie?

Everyone I know likes SOME kinda pie. Who doesn't like pie? I like most pies.

Some folks are more fond of cake. They would rather have a piece of cake than a piece of pie. But that doesn't mean they don't like pie. They would just prefer cake.

Me? I'm a pie guy. I dislike very few pies. Mincemeat pie and rhubarb pie I'd rather not eat. But I might, if I was hungry enough. Cream pie, fruit pie, chess pie, custard pie, pecan pie, even pizza pie, chicken pot pie or a nice quiche: they are all yummy to me.

For people who claim they don't like pie, there's always Boston Cream Pie, which is really a cake. But it's got "pie" right in the name there. And for people people who dont like cake, there's Cheesecake which, come on, is really more like a pie. But "cake" is right there in the name, too.

Do you like pie? I'm sure you like SOME kinda pie. Who doesn't like pie?

Let's have a cup of coffee and a piece of pie and talk. That would be nice. Pie makes people friendly and open up to each other. The United Nations should serve pie. Maybe we should send pie to the Middle East. Include the recipe on the bottom of the pie plate. If they like the pie, they can make it themselves. Couldn't hurt.

What's your favorite kind of pie?

Be prepared to discuss all things "cookie" at some point in the future.

Sunday Mop Up 09/24/06

Panic! At the Condo

I'm not the most organized guy you've ever met. I have a tendency to lose things. In fact, there are somethings I can't help but lose. Jewelry is probably tops on that list. I've bought rings and been given chains- bracelets and neckwear- and never cease to lose them. Keeping track of little shit just isn't my forte. I know this, and have made adjustments to my life on account of this. I've come to accept it and deal with it.

But, when I can't find my eye glasses, it's another story. I FREAK out. I think it's because I know that replacing my glasses is a major pain in the ass: digging up my prescription, going back to the store, finding frames that fit my watermelon-sized head, having to decide about the UV protection/scratch resistant/auto-tinting lenses, and then waiting all day in a store that promises you'll get your shit "in about an hour". Fuck you. Meanwhile, I'm gonna try on every pair of frames in this god damned place and hog the mirrors. Maybe THAT will motivate you to hurry up with my friggin order.

So, I hate losing my glasses, right? Well, yesterday I couldn't find the sons of bitches.

I had them Friday night. I came home with them. I usually take them off when I get upstairs and place them on my computer table. Usually set them on top of the cpu tower on the corner of the table. The problem was that Friday night, as I sat here in the computer room, I did some cleaning up. Uncluttered the room a bit, as it were. The room needed it, and I felt productive afterward.

Saturday I got up and decided to go to the horse track: go play the ponies a bit, hang out amongst the beer-bellied cowboys and farmers and alcoholic gambling addicts. Yay! I dressed and reached for my glasses as I headed for the truck. Not there.

Okay, deep breath. Did I throw them away? Of course not! I eyed the trashbag that I had used to unclutter the night before and was certain I had NOT tossed them in. I surveyed the floor of the room. Nothing. Got on my knees and looked under the bed in this room. Nope. I check the pockets of the shirt and pants that I wore the day before. Not there. Bathroom? No. Bedroom? Looked on the shelves next to the bed, on the dresser, under the bed. I pulled back the bedding to see if they were tucked in between the sheets. Nada.

Wait! I stopped in the kitchen before coming upstairs. I HAD stopped at the store the night before, sometimes I leave my glasses next to, or on, the stove. Not in the kitchen. I looked at the trash basket in the kitchen, where I had tossed the groceriy bags after putting the food I bought away last night. Was I going to have to root around in the trash? No. No way I threw my glasses away!

It was a this point that I started going a little nuts. I looked IN the refridgerator. I looked IN the freezer. I had started a load of dirty dishes before going to bed so I looked IN the dishwasher. Fer Chrissakes! I went to the laundry room, even though I hadn't been there in days. I looked IN the washer and then IN the dryer. I'm starting to sweat. I grabbed my car keys and went out to the truck. Searched that motherfucker over. I began cursing.

I came back upstairs. I RE-CHECKED the very pockets of clothing I had JUST CHECKED. Like I missed a pair of glasses the first time? I went to the bathroom and looked IN THE SHOWER. C'mon! When was the last time YOU wore your glasses in the shower? It only left one possibility...the trash. Fuck!

Yes, I opened both trash bags, the kitchen one and the one had had taken upstairs to "unclutter" and began rooting around. Such a task is NEVER pleasant. Chicken bones and...nevermind...I'll spare you. Point is - NO GLASSES. Seriously, I knew I hadn't tossed them and was kinda pleased to confirm this, but I had run out of places to check. I was now, officially, out of control. I dug out my flashlight and began the Under The Beds search again. On my belly in two bedrooms. Fat Man Crawling. No glasses, but found some socks to put back into rotation. Also scored a little over two dollars in loose change. That's an extra bet on a horse. If I ever GET to the track!

I was now a sweaty, hyper-ventillating, swearing psycho. I plopped down in my chair at the computer table, right where I am right now. I put my elbows on the table and held my head in my hands as I stared at the floor. Right below me, sitting amongst the electric cords that power my pc set up, sat my glasses. I, my friends, am an idiot.

JIMMY'S VIDEO STASH

Has been discontinued. I'm happy just messing with Jimmy's Jukebox. I'll be loading new tunes in it weekly, and I may mention something about a particular track here on occasion. Like: Check out the track "Breathe Me" by Sia on the player. For those who remember "Six Feet Under", this is the song that played during that amazing montage at the very end of the series' finale. It still makes my heart stop.