The M&Ms Tournament of Champions

From back in August. Another example of the shit I come up with to keep my mind occupied…

Back in July, I started walking to get some exercise when I found out I could download Google Fit on my phone and keep track of the steps I took. I made a discovery:
I barely move all day.

No shocker there. My job requires me to sit and watch monitors all day. So, I started walking around my apartment building’s parking lot when I got home from work. I soon found out it doesn’t take long to do the amount of activity Google and the American Heart Association have determined to be a healthy amount of activity. I go by Heart Points, which are one point per minute of activity in which I take one hundred steps or more. That’s not much. In fact, I did that rate back in high school marching band. I often play the old fight song in my head because the tempo was 120 beats per minute.

I decided to walk in the Metro Parks today. I had the day off and nothing else to do until my kid’s band camp let out, and the walk around the parking lot was getting boring.  The park also has a nice paved all-purpose trail for bikes and walkers. Tons of trees for shade, and plenty of animals. I saw deer, which is not unusual in the suburbs, but one of them was a six-point buck. He just watched me walk by, and I imagined he was Herne the Hunter, blessing me and my travels in nature…

And that’s how we get to the M&Ms™. Awareness of my surroundings isn’t very difficult, so my imagination takes over. Continue reading

My (Possible) Brush With Jesus

How Catholic guilt lead to a $3,000 car repair.

There I was, the Monday night before Easter, warming a stool at Jimmy’s. Jimmy’s on Monday nights, watching Monday Night Raw with the lovely Heather, bartender extraordinaire, was becoming a tradition. With my work schedule, Monday is my Friday, so, there you have it.

This wasn’t just the Monday before Easter. It was the Monday before the court date on Wednesday to finalize the divorce. Quite possibly the last Monday/Friday night out I was going to get in a while once child support and shared parenting began. I was hoping to make the night last, but seeing as it was just me and Heather, and the final hour of Raw was starting, that hope was fleeting.


Then Jim walked in. Not the Jimmy the bar’s namesake. White dude, ball cap, mid thirties, wearing a landscaping t shirt. He was already sporting a tan from working, even that early in April. He sat a few stools down, ordered a drink, and started playing Keno. He asked if we always watched wrestling on Monday nights, and casually joined in our conversation.


After a bit, Jim went and checked his Keno numbers. That’s when the fun began. Continue reading

Stupid Images That Pop into My Head and Give Me a Laugh: 06/18/19

Been a while since I’ve posted. Sorry about that. Life got in the way. Changed the title of the blog, but I’m still ordinary and average.

I got to the counter and Wayne, the guy taking orders, said, “Hey Bro, what’ll it be?”

“I’ll take the chicken special I saw on the sign by the gas pumps.”

Wayne turned and shouted to the kitchen, “Brocephus! I need an eight-piece for my bro here.”

“Coming’ right up, Brofessor.”

When I got home, I opened the clamshell container and found eight Tyson chicken patties and a couple of Kraft singles, still in the wrapper. I dunno. Maybe I’ve watched too much Food Network, but, I had a totally different idea of what broasted chicken meant.

My First #SlapDashSat: 09-08-18

Just trying out new toys I find on the internet.

I found a writing game on Twitter called #SlapDashSat.  You can search the hashtag, or, check out the main page @SlapDashSat.  There is no theme, no rules, just free form writing.  Just whatever happens to cross your mind at the moment.

A lot of what I read reminded me of conversations from a Tarantino movie.  You know what I mean.  The conversations where the characters just seem to be bullshitting to pass the time.  I like Tarantino movies, so, I figured, what the hell.

And then my mind went blank.

I turned to my trusty fortune cookie fortune collection and found this gem:

Always stick around for one more drink. That’s when stuff happens.

I thought of a quick scene.  I’ll admit it: I didn’t go straight to Twitter with my scene.  I roughed it out, did some editing, walked away from it, came back, cut some stuff, rinse and repeat.  I got the scene into a form I liked and went with it.  

Brevity escaped me that day.  Ah, well.  Some people liked it.  That’s cool.  I posted it late in the evening, so, some of the likes didn’t come in until the next Saturday.  That’s cool, too.  I tried it and I liked it and I’ll try it again.  

And I encourage you to check out the game @SlapDashSat.

P.S Wakelet failed me.  If you know of another app to put Twitter post collections into WordPress, please share in the comments.

Tales of Karma: May 8th, 2018

For some odd reason, my polling place changed. Whatever, it was only a little bit farther than where I used to go to vote, so no biggie. And besides, the poll is close to Mission BBQ, and any excuse to go to Mission BBQ is valid.

I pull into the lot of my polling place, and all I can think is “same actors, new stage.” Just a bunch of volunteers running around the lot, trying to stuff literature into your hand. When you get inside the door, there is a big barrel full of said literature. What a fucking waste. Maybe if politicians didn’t waste so much cash on literature, they wouldn’t have to accept so many contributions and bribes to run a campaign.

Voting itself was uneventful. I got my ballot, filled it out, and ran it through the scanner in probably less than 7 minutes. Of course, Tuesday is one of my days off during the week, so, your mileage may vary.

As I was leaving the multipurpose room used for voting, I felt my shoe come untied. I steered my way to a folding chair to tie it and was approached by one of the poll workers.

“Excuse me, sir. It seems your right shoe has come untied.”

He reminded me of Justin Wilson, the Cajun cook who used to have a show on PBS. He even had a bit of a southern drawl, not quite Cajun, but close enough for jazz. He entertained me with a story while I retied my shoe.

“I was downtown a couple weeks ago, on jury duty at the Justice Center, when I saw a man with a shoe untied. I mentioned it to him, and he turned on me and gave me a few choice words I can’t use in polite company. He went up a flight of stairs, and wouldn’t you know it, when he got to the top step, he tripped on the shoe lace I warned him about, fell down all 12 steps, and broke his ankle.”

I chuckled. “Good for him. Sounds like karma worked that day.”

“I told him, right before the paramedics arrived, maybe he won’t need that lace anymore if they have to cut the shoe to fix your foot.”

We shared another laugh at the other guy’s expense. I thanked him for brightening my day with his story, shook his hand, and went on my way.

It’s one thing to just ignore somebody and keep walking after an innocuous warning about something like an untied shoelace. But to actually take the time to cuss out somebody, just because they were looking out for you?

I may be tempting karma, but I still can’t help but smile when I think of that story.

Bourbon

A short rant from my personal journal, December 31, 2017, edited to resemble English.

My brother gave me “The Whisky Enthusiast” sample box for Christmas. The box contains a bottle of Johnnie Walker Red scotch, Crown Royal Canadian whisky, and Bulleit bourbon. I poured myself a little drink before I started journaling today. I didn’t want to open the Crown, and my hands were too dry to get the scotch open, so, I went with the bourbon.

I read a couple of websites about Scotch and bourbon, mostly about how to drink it. To be honest, the most I’ve ever done with whisky is shots, and those went so fast, I never learned to appreciate the flavor. If there was any.  All I knew was the burn. So, bourbon it was.

cold-light-alcohol-glass.jpg

I knew “neat” meant straight, room temperature, and “on the rocks” meant over ice. On the rocks didn’t seem like a clever idea if I wanted to try to find the flavor, with all that ice melting. Then I read about adding a little water. Enthusiasts seem to like this preparation, at least on the 2 websites I read, so I decided to give it a try. From what I understand, the water helps reduce some unwanted flavors that can come with wood aged liquors and enhances wanted flavors. Apparently, I’m an enthusiast, at least according to the box, so I put a little water in a rocks glass, and 2 fingers of the Bulleit bourbon.

I like the idea fingers, plenty of opportunities for humor with the finger concept. Of course, it depends on the audience. If a dude asks for 2 fingers, I can just flip him a double bird. Lots of laughs. “I’m telling you, Jerry, it’s the best Jerry, the best!” Have I mentioned ever mentioned I like Seinfeld?

So far, I’ve only had a few sips. My tongue and belly have a nice warmth going on. I probably still have half of the to drink to go. Where was I?  Ah, yes.

Fingers. Some good comedy potential if other dudes are involved, but comedy goes out the window in the ladies are involved, although there is still a lot of potential. ” May offer you 2 fingers?” and hold the bottle up for her to see. I’m no expert, but, I think you’ll know right away if the conversation is worth pursuing after that move. Of course, you could get slapped. At least you tried.

It’s the 21st century — no reason the woman can’t be the pursuer. “You gotta couple of fingers for thirst girl?” Give her a quick once over, and you either grab the bottle, or flip her a bird. At least she doesn’t have to worry about being slapped. Yeah, that’s wrong. Chances are you’ll be grabbing a bottle. No flipping or slapping, unless you’re a douche. And if you are a douche, chances are people know it already, and you don’t have to worry about making decisions about buying a girl a drink or flipping her off.

I think I just found some of the attitude and general outlook on life for one of my characters.

The Best Cat Ever: Nuggy the Christmas Kitty, Part 2

Nuggy: Sept 1998 – June 16, 2017

Nuggy enjoyed Christmas Time.

I know, I mentioned that before, but it’s a good opening. Having already talked about cats at the first Christmas, I’m reusing the opening to talk about our first Christmas with Nuggy.

It was 1999, and my wife and I had just bought our first house that August.  Nuggy moved in during September. Before getting too far into the holiday season, we found out we were going to have our first child.

Then the real fun began.

We told my mom and Christine’s parents we were expecting. Then the rest of the relatives. My brother and his wife just told us the week before they were expecting, also.

One day I came home from work, and Christine told me we had to get rid of Nuggy. Continue reading