Where Have The Years Gone?

I have to say that this whole getting old thing is getting under my skin.

I was having a conversation with our 14 year old son (big hockey fan) yesterday and I proceeded to tell the story of going to my first hockey game. Bruins vs. Penguins. I continued saying that I was so excited because Bobby Orr was playing and I had seats right behind the bench.

He threw me an odd look and said, “who the heck is Bobby Orr?” I, feeling old, said, “what?! He was like the …Pele of hockey.” Then I got…”and who is Pele?” I said, “OK…he was like the Tiger Woods or Kobi Bryant of hockey.” The response to that was, “Oh…he cheated on his wife with prostitutes?”

This conversation went on for a few more minutes, until I finally got through to him with comparing him to Michael Jordan and Wanye Gretzky.
It is sad to me how many of my sports heroes are not known by today’s youth.

The one good thing about my …aging is that Mariah has a ‘thing’ for little old men. I think that I am going to give in and invest in a walker.

The Human Mind Is A Mean Fucker

Now I know that everyone ages differently, but I have to say that I think that the human mind is a devilish little fucker.

As many of you know…today is my birthday. I turned 42. SHIT!!!!

For the most part I feel great…when speaking generally. I can run around with the kids, love roller coasters, camping, acting foolish at the beach, ridding in the cart at the grocery store…you know…a typical man who acts like a kid.

On the other hand, my mind has been playing some god awful tricks on me over the last few months. Maybe it is from all of those stupid commercials that spotlight an aging man with his joint pain, or the ones for Viagra or the Hover-round…maybe it is from watching TV and movies with aging men…who know?

What I do know is that I wake up most mornings with a sore back. I get a stiff neck when the is a chilly breeze. I (even though I live in Southern California) even get literally chilled to the bone when it drops below 55 degrees. I get joint pains. I need to rest and massage my shoulder after throwing a football with the boys…and I am now at the stage where I NEVER pass up an opportunity to go to the bathroom.

I really believe that most of it is in my head (seeing as I had a physical not too long ago where I was told that Cholesterol was the only concern.)

I woke up this morning to find that …one of our kids had taped up notes all over the house, such as: the one on the coffee pot that read, “all old guys need coffee to wake up…” or the one that was in the stairwell the said, “Careful old man…you don’t want to throw a hip coming down the stairs” or the one on my computer asking (in very big letters) if I needed glasses to read it.

Bless the kids for their sense of humor…but F them for reminding me of what is to come…and reminding my brain that this is a great day to make me feel old.

Well…this is a lot of writing…I think I need a nap.

Learning About Love - The Hard Way - Part 4

Please make sure to read parts one, two and three before you get sucked into this

My teenage boy brain insisted that she was the one. She had never had sex, never drank, never done drugs, never snuck out of her house, never ditched school….and I was the one to show her how it is all done.

Our relationship was good…while it lasted. I taught her that blow jobs on demand were “what people in love do.” I taught her that slinking up to the college guy outside of the liquor store and putting on a cute smile so he’d buy us beer was the greatest gift a girl could give her man. I taught HER that sneaking out of her house late at night, and walking the ¾ miles to my house, to have sex with me in the woods was best, cuz I would have more energy for her. I taught her that …well…I won’t get into the real heavy stuff. I think you all get my drift.

Anyway, I can honestly (and now shamefully) say that I thoroughly corrupted her. Only a few months into our relationship she; smoked cigarettes, drank on a regular basis, smoked pot here and there, coned beer out of unsuspecting college students, ditched school, snuck out of her house at night and put my sexual gratification above anything else.

It was not long after my step father walked in on …her kneeling before me in my mother’s home office, that I broke up with her. Honestly, I think I did it because I was starting to get more attention from a lot of other girls (she had a tendency to discus our sex life with all of the other girls at school). To top everything off…as payback for me breaking up with her, she asked my younger brother out (and he said yes) and proceeded to have sex with him for about 2 weeks before that faded away.

Now…if you have read all of the parts of this series, you’ll understand that I had finally learned a thing or two.

I moved to NYC shortly afterwards and proceeded to spend the next 5 years just being a single (dog) guy in his mid to late teens. I had no serious relationships…but did have a lot of fun. I guess that is why they say that you have to ‘live a little’ before you settle down.

The End…for now.

Learning About Love - The Hard Way, Part 3

Make sure to read Parts One and Two before you read this one

Summer between 9th and 10th grade, I returned home and was going to go back to public school. I lived in a very small town where everyone knew everyone…until a new family moved into our development. The neighborhood guys and I decided that it would be a good Idea for up to stickball games, bikes and skateboards to the street in front of their house…you know, we had to check them out.

As it turned out, the family was a mother, and a girl about our age and a younger son. No more than an hour into our street shenanigans, we saw the screen door on the front of the house open and the mom saying something to the girl as she pushed her out the door towards us. (old school social enabling)

The girl stopped in her front yard, sat down and just watched us. Most of us began showing off and trying outlandish jumps and tricks on our bikes. After she watched us acting like fools for a while, two of my friends and I walked up to her and introduced ourselves. We found out that she was our age and would be starting in our school in September. They had moved here from another state after her parents got divorced.

The girl was a bit homely and did not really have anything special about her looks. Just kind of plain. After inviting her to hang with us, we began just treating her like one of the guys. Not to mention that she was pretty good on a skateboard.

As the summer wore on and we all hung out together, I made it a point to look out for her…I knew better than to burn ‘girl’ bridges. It was not long before I felt as though she kind of liked me. I was unsure about how I felt about that. I mean, it is nice to be liked but I did not know if she were my type. (as a girlfriend) She was not ‘sexy’, hung out with the guys, had previously confided that she’d never even kissed a boy and was all around kind of a goody two shoes. I on the other hand had started drinking, smoked cigarettes here and there, dabbled in smoking pot, went out at night to cause trouble with the boys and expected sex from a girlfriend.

…beginning of dilemma.

I did not know at that time how much she really knew about me or if she’d like what she saw …but a part of me liked the idea of ‘molding’ her to my liking. I could teach her the rope and then she’d be perfect for me.

My friends did not understand what I was doing when I asked her out, but soon after…they did. (I hate to say this now, but she was like a puppy going through training.)

...More to come.

OCD Sucks

Due to some technical difficulties…or my ever-present OCD…I had to erase all of the timers for shows set to record on our satellite system. There were some conflicts and things just weren’t working right (as smooth as I’d like them to be.)

As to not forget any shows…and again letting some OCD seep out, I first made a list (I love lists) of everything that we, as a household, wanted recorded on a regular basis.

35 freakin shows!
And 25 of them are shows primarily for Mariah and I.

What the hell are we thinking? How are we supposed to watch 25 hours of TV a week?

That made me think about it in relation to other things in my weekly schedule…fine…It was an excuse for me to make another list.

Here is what I cam up with…In order:
Sleep – 56 Hours
TV – 25
HoursWriting / computer / work – 25 Hours
Homework help – 10 Hours
Laundry/cooking/household chores – 8 Hours
Carpools – 8 Hours
Sex – 6 Hours
Volunteering at the school – 4.5 Hours
Shopping – 3 Hours

A TOTAL OF 145.5 HOURS!

Being that there are only 168 hours in the week…I have about 22.5 hours unaccounted for. (I know I do other things so I will not stress about ‘losing time’ or anything.)

Now, looking at this list…I know that I need to move SEX MUCH HIGHER in the list, additionally, I am spending roughly 47% of the hours in the week sleeping and watching TV…WTF!? Like I don’t have better things to do.

Super Powers

I have two simple questions for you all today…

If you were invisible for one 24 hour period…what are the top three things you would do?

I chose invisible because out of all ‘super powers’ that is the one that I would most like to have. (FYI…I am secretly honing my skills and practicing to harness the power of invisibility, so if you ever feel a tap on your shoulder and nobody is there…it might just be me.)

If not invisible…what super power would you most like to have?

If I were invisible, I would; secretly walk onto flights so I could visit all of the cities around the world that I yearn to go to, I’d be on the sets of my favorite TV shows…and maybe mess with people there, I’d have to at least do a walk through of the Playboy mansion and lastly I’d see what REALLY goes on in the Oval Office and the ‘Situation Room’.

My New Catch 22

So, as you all know I went to the doctor about a week and a half ago and after getting the blood tests back, my doctor told me that to lower my skyrocketing cholesterol and blood pressure I would HAVE to quit smoking, change my diet and exercise regularly.

Now, if any of you know what the diet for high cholesterol is, you’ll know what hell I am going through. I am not a junk food junkie, but not being able to eat 98% of things found in a normal grocery store is…my new HELL.

On top of that, I am a week into weaning down my smoking and am at less than half of what I smoked up until now. If you have quit or know someone who has…you’ll know that the first thing you want to do is EAT! Problem number 1….I can’t fucking eat! Salads and nuts just don’t cut the ‘quit smoking cravings.’ In addition to the food aspect, my loving doc prescribed Wellbutrin (an anti anxiety drug) to help along the weaning process. The thought is good, but after reading the below ‘known’ side effects….What The Fuck?

Wellbutrin

All medicines may cause side effects, but many people have no, or minor, side effects. Check with your doctor if any of these most COMMON side effects persist or become bothersome when using Wellbutrin:

Constipation (everyone knows that a cup of coffee and a cigarette are like bowel draino); dizziness; drowsiness; dry mouth; headache (the smoker’s cure for any pain or ailment….smoking); increased sweating; loss of appetite(when I am not able to eat anything…I am going to get sick from mal nutrition); nausea; nervousness (again…smoking calms the system); restlessness (for this and the last one….mind you, this is an anti anxiety drug!); taste changes; trouble sleeping(can’t sleep….have a smoke…or eat…WTF?); vomiting (who doesn’t have a smoke after a good puke?); weight changes.

(I will not even get into the following SEVERE side effects.)

Seek medical attention right away if any of these SEVERE side effects occur when using Wellbutrin:

Severe allergic reactions (rash; hives; itching; difficulty breathing; tightness in the chest; swelling of the mouth, face, lips, or tongue); chest pain; confusion; dark urine; delusions; fainting; fast or irregular heartbeat; fever, chills, or sore throat; hallucinations; hearing problems; menstrual changes; new or worsening mental or mood changes (eg, concentration problems, panic attacks, aggressiveness, agitation, anxiety, impulsiveness, irritability, hostility, exaggerated feeling of well-being, inability to sit still); red, swollen, blistered, or peeling skin; seizures; severe headache or dizziness; severe or persistent joint or muscle pain; severe or persistent nausea, vomiting, or stomach pain; severe or persistent nervousness, restlessness, or trouble sleeping; shortness of breath; suicidal thoughts or attempts; tremor; unusual swelling; vision changes; worsening depression; yellowing of the skin or eyes.

So….here I am, smoking less, wanting to eat, not being able to eat, suffering from side effects that make me want to smoke, but can’t smoke more, needing to exercise more, but lacking the nutritional energy to do so….basically making myself nuts.

Lastly…I may be wrong, or it may just be a smoker’s mind trick, but haven’t I heard somewhere that the worst time to quit smoking is when you are under a lot of stress? (i.e. out of work, struggling financially, going through divorce, etc….all of which apply to me at the moment! And my doctor knows this.)

Is my doctor a quack? Or is this my withdrawals from nicotine and fatty foods?

Help Our Children - Cure JM

Kevin of Always Home and Uncool has asked me to post this as part of his effort to raise awareness in the blogosphere of juvenile myositis, a rare autoimmune disease his daughter was diagnosed with on this day seven years ago. The day also happens to be his wife's birthday.

*
Our pediatrician admitted it early on.

The rash on our 2-year-old daughter's cheeks, joints and legs was something he'd never seen before.

The next doctor wouldn't admit to not knowing.

He rattled off the names of several skins conditions -- none of them seemingly worth his time or bedside manner -- then quickly prescribed antibiotics and showed us the door.

The third doctor admitted she didn't know much.

The biopsy of the chunk of skin she had removed from our daughter's knee showed signs of an "allergic reaction" even though we had ruled out every allergy source -- obvious and otherwise -- that we could.

The fourth doctor had barely closed the door behind her when, looking at the limp blonde cherub in my lap, she admitted she had seen this before. At least one too many times before.

She brought in a gaggle of med students. She pointed out each of the physical symptoms in our daughter:

The rash across her face and temples resembling the silhouette of a butterfly.

The purple-brown spots and smears, called heliotrope, on her eyelids.

The reddish alligator-like skin, known as Gottron papules, covering the knuckles of her hands.

The onset of crippling muscle weakness in her legs and upper body.

She then had an assistant bring in a handful of pages photocopied from an old medical textbook.

She handed them to my wife, whose birthday it happened to be that day.

This was her gift -- a diagnosis for her little girl.

That was seven years ago -- Oct. 2, 2002 -- the day our daughter was found to have juvenile dermatomyositis, one of a family of rare autoimmune diseases that can have debilitating and even fatal consequences when not treated quickly and effectively.

Our daughter's first year with the disease consisted of surgical procedures, intravenous infusions, staph infections, pulmonary treatments and worry. Her muscles were too weak for her to walk or swallow solid food for several months. When not in the hospital, she sat on our living room couch, propped up by pillows so she wouldn't tip over, as medicine or nourishment dripped from a bag into her body.

Our daughter, Thing 1, Megan, now age 9, remembers little of that today when she dances or sings or plays soccer. All that remain with her are scars, six to be exact, and the array of pills she takes twice a day to help keep the disease at bay.

What would have happened if it took us more than two months and four doctors before we lucked into someone who could piece all the symptoms together? I don't know.

I do know that the fourth doctor, the one who brought in others to see our daughter's condition so they could easily recognize it if they ever had the misfortune to be presented with it again, was a step toward making sure other parents also never have to find out.

That, too, is my purpose today.

It is also my birthday gift to my wife, My Love, Rhonda, for all you have done these past seven years to make others aware of juvenile myositis diseases and help find a cure for them once and for all.

To read more about children and families affected by juvenile myositis diseases, visit Cure JM Foundation at www.curejm.org.

To make a tax-deductible donation toward JM research, go to www.firstgiving.com/rhondaandkevinmckeever or www.curejm.com/team/donations.htm.

Annual Physical Update - Lab Results

I don’t know…you tell me…Is there a better way to really fuck up someone’s day than to have the doctor’s office call and leave you a message that the doctor would like you to come in to discuss the lab results in person? (see below for the post about the physical)

WTF!?

The only thing that they hinted about was elevated cholesterol, but that the doc wanted to go over ALL of the results with me. Now…the earliest I can be seen to talk to the doctor is tomorrow morning.

Now I get to sit here and do one of two things….worry all night and be a mess…or…Drink heavily until tomorrow morning.

HMMMMMMM……

I had better go get a lot of Sam Adams!...just in case.

What is a sick child?

I have to say that I feel very lucky when it comes to the health of my kids. Yeah, they get banged up, get colds, toothaches, stomach problems…occasionally some constipation…but never anything serious. I have even posted about me and my unhuman history of making it 41 years and never spending a night in a hospital or even breaking a bone.

Since I started blogging, I have heard some of the most horrendous stories about people’s kids being gravely ill. It is almost unimaginable for me to comprehend what they must be going through as a parent…not to mention the suffering of a child.

In real life, I don’t even know anyone (close to me) that has had a very sick child…I have experience here. The one thing that I can say is that I bet I’d be a mess. I can see myself going over the top and just plain losing it. I’d be like Denzel in that movie John Q.

Much of the time, Mariah will come up to me with a sad, heartbroken look on her face…then I’ll ask her what is wrong. She slump into a chair to tell me the horrors that some other blogging parents are going through with their sick child. I feel bad for them. But it just does not affect me the same was as it does her. Maybe it is because I have never been through or experienced first (or even second) hand what it is like. Maybe it is because I don’t know these people. Maybe it is because I am a cold son of a bitch…I don’t know. But the fact remains; I DO feel for these families and truly care about the health and well being of ALL children.

Now…one of the resident Hot Dads (AlwaysHomeandUncool) has a big date (October 2nd ) coming up that really means a lot to his family (especially Thing1) and many more people throughout the world. Read a bit about what they have been through here and here.

I encourage you all to join him in his efforts to create awareness and raise funds for Cure JM. Cure JM is a 100-percent volunteer organization that funds medical research into the cause, treatment and eventual cure of juvenile myositis, juvenile dermatomyositis and their variants. The group also offers family support opportunities to help JM children, their parents, friends and relatives cope with the disease. To date, we are more than halfway to this year's fundraising goal of $500,000, nearly all of which goes directly to JM doctors to pay for research fellowships, specialized lab equipment and fund studies.

Please do what you can and save some space on your blogs on October 2nd and make sure to even tell your real life friends and family about it. We need to get a hold on these childhood illnesses that cause so much pain!

Confucius Vs. Dr. Phil

I don’t know about you but recently I have been having some issues with the sayings like, “Money can’t buy love.” and “Money doesn’t equal happiness."

I know that literally they are true, but at the core of what they mean….I have always thought it to be… without the ‘pad’ of money, it is much easier to feel/experience what love really is.

Now…Philosophers and ‘wise men’ may say these things, while at the same time, psychologists and socioeconomic studies say the complete opposite. “The lack of money and financial hard times are proven to be the root of a great deal of divorce, break ups, and household dysfunction.”

WTF!?

With the economy, lack of work and rising costs of having 6 kids (schools, groceries, movies, ice cream, birthday gifts, etc., etc.) The ‘lack of funds’ is proving to have a devastating effect on our whole house.

Mariah and I worry about ‘making it’ through the month, while the kids, increasingly, need things - and we don't need the kids worrying about our money situation. Continually telling the kids that we can’t afford it or that it will have t wait kind of puts a damper on their day and makes them wonder how stable our family really is. Meanwhile, Mariah and my stress levels rise and it tends to come out in the form of a cold, angry, or unhappy attitude…which then equates to the Gods pissing on our ‘flame.’

I love Mariah. I love all of the kids. I love the time we are able to spend together. I love what we have. But these days it seems that, whether it is Mariah and I or one of us with one of ( or a group of ) the kids…tempers are short, attitudes uneasy and the lovey, cuddly sides of us all are pushed aside from the stress. I feel like at any given time…someone in the house is in a foul mood…and does everyone else have the right to be cheery and happy?

I miss the constant smiles that we all once shared. I miss the spontaneous love making. I miss the luxury of being able to take Mariah out for an evening.

I want it all back!

I know that it is all part of being an adult, being a parent, being out of work and struggling through hard times…but it is plaguing me and I fucking hate it!!!!

Peeing in a Tornado

OK….What gives?

Let’s just say that reflecting on things…sitting or lying down trying to assess my current situation… has become quite the nightmare of a task.

Basic summary:

I am unemployed.

I have been looking for work for about a year and have literally come up dry. I won’t say that I have been out on the streets banging on doors every day, but I have sent my resume to thousands of people and still….nothing.

I know that the economy and the current job market suck right now…and that huge numbers of people are out of work…which just makes it that much harder.

There seem to be many reasons that I am not finding work:
Over-qualified
No experience
Felony record

Now, over the past 25 years, I have done the following for work; Restaurant (dishwasher, server, bar back, assistant manager), Construction (roofer, grunt for wood framing contractor), Mental Health (worker and then manager for 2 different group homes for mentally handicapped adults), Public Relations (in-house for House of Blues, then started a PR firm which I ran for 8 years), Internet/Magazines (co-founded 2 successful online magazines and acted as Executive Editor for another), Professional (General administration and then promoted to Operations Manager for an LA based financial consulting firm.)

When I apply to PR/marketing companies…I usually get, “too qualified” or “we found someone who better matches our needs.”
When I apply to offices for Admin jobs…I did not work in that field long enough or I am over qualified (what the fuck does that mean?...both over and under????)
When I apply at McDonalds and grocery stores (which I have) I get turned away upon them seeing a felony record.
When I apply for general labor jobs, I do not have current experience…15 years ago does not seem to count.
…WHATEVER… The point is, I CAN”T FIND A FUCKING GOOD JOB!
(**if you know of anything…feel free to let me know)

Am I going to have to move to freakin Greece and become a fisherman? Try out for Deadliest Catch, leverage everything I can and give it a shot as a professional poker player?

What?...you ask what my dream job is? I would start as a crew member and then an owner of a sportfishing charter…fishing the big boys off southern Baja. Shit…I’d take cleaning the docks in Marina Del Rey.

AND THEN…..My (pending) divorce…
This case has been going on for more than 3.5 years. She has a (well she is on her 5th) lawyer and I (since the start) can’t afford one and did not think that there was enough to argue about to really need one. MY BAD! So, I am still not, technically, divorced (although the judge granted the dissolution more than a year ago.) All I want is to have fair / standard time with my boys. I suppose that if I got a job, I could hire an attorney and get this whole thing over with…but scroll back to the top.

With 6 kids – it is hard not to feel like a total fucking loser. The situation is absolutely Maddening!

Well…..enough of this pity / venting shit and back to actually feeling like shit.

Normal Childhood - Military Training (part 2)

By the time morning hit, we could hardly wait to see if we’d caught anything (or anyone) in our traps. We ignored the stealth policy as we bolted through the woods to the location of our creations. One by one, we closely inspected them, noticing nothing but a few random piles of animal scat and a small handful of porcupine quills.

Disappointed with having caught nothing we regrouped for a new strategy. After thoroughly discussing the mater in detail, we thought that the best plan was to lure someone into one of the traps. Yes…I was the one with 3 sisters and it was decided that little sisters make great prey.

Upon returning from my neighbor’s house we approached my middle sister, taunting her with a large bag of Twizlers and candy corn, we told her to count to 100 and then if she could find us at our fort that she could have our bag of sweetness. She began counting and we bolted into the forest snickering at our own genius.

A few minutes later, as we had taken up position in eyesight of each of our traps, we began to hear the crunching and twig snapping of a non-trained civilian tromping through the woods. Excited beyond belief, we all sat completely still, awaiting our catch.

A few seconds later, she appeared on the path…only 20 feet or so from our spring snare. Prancing up the path with thoughts of mouthfuls of candy, she neared the hidden danger. All of the sudden, we heard it. She had kicked the trip wire and *swoosh* the slip knot had tightened around her feet and she was hoisted into the air. Screaming and struggling, head bobbing a few feet off the ground we all emerged from the bushes, laughing and impressed with ourselves.

We stood in a circle around he, patting each other on the back, completely ignoring her cries for help. After a few brief comments and a bit more laughing, we decided that it would be best to leave her there for a while. Backing away and heading out on the path towards our house, we peaked over our shoulders just to see her squirming, and tears streaming from her eyes and landing in the cushion of pine needles that lined the forest floor.

We got back to my house and in an attempt not to tip off my mother, we busied ourselves with our bikes and the construction of a jump at the end of the driveway. About an hour later, after one of my friends launched off the jump and crashed into a tree at the edge of the woods, we all looked at one another with a touch of fear in our eyes and we took off into the woods. We had forgotten about my sister who had been hanging upside down in the middle of the porcupine and fox infested woods for close to an hour.

When we arrived, we saw my sister, still crying, but too tired to struggle. It seemed that she had just enough energy to tilt her head enough to see us approaching. Her sobs were faint, but at least she was still alive. We quickly released the knot at the base of a nearby tree and my sister fell with a thud to the ground. As she got up and began to stumble down the path she yelled to us that MOM was going to kill us and that we were going to be in big trouble. Chasing after her, with the bag of candy held out in front of us, we bribed her with the contents of the bag along with mild threats of further violence if she did tell.

As far as I know, our secret lived on and from that point on we re-adjusted out traps to only catch animals…which we did.

Time Travel...To The 70s and 80s

A bit random…but I am just going to throw it out there…

Is it only me or do any of you with you could just go back in time to the late 70s or early 80s?

I loved that time…I mean sure…I got into some trouble and drove my parents absolutely insane…but I was a boy growing up in rural New Hampshire and there were no video games, addicting TV shows, cell phones to distract us.

I loved cruising around with my friends, hanging out, causing trouble and having good old fashion boy fun.

These days things are so much more complicated…yes, I know that much of that comes from being a father to 6 kids, but even when I put myself in any of their shoes…with the texting and Internet shit that they get into, the drama with all of the cliques in schools, the gangs, teens driving all over creation, etc. it is enough to drive a man nuts!

We just grounded our 12 year old and she has absolutely no clue what to do. She can’t go hang out with friends and can’t use her cell phone. We told her that she could use the house phone to call and talk to her friends and she said, “No thanks…I don’t want to talk to them…I want to text them.”

How fucking impersonal are cell phones and IMing, email and all of the other Internet communications making our kids?

We just allowed her to use AIM and she has been at the computer for 3 hours and counting….WTF!?

Now I guess we will have to limit her use. I know that kids don’t have the self control that we wished they did…shit I don’t have the self control that I wished I did…but the fact of the matter is that ….when I was a kid, and none of that stuff was around…life just seemed much more innocent, fun and …shit….easier.

Talk About A Complete Woman

The first time I saw her, sitting across the room from me, I was in awe. Her very presence threw me off balance. Thinking of what to say to her was futile. I could not get words to pass my lips. I sat there, hypnotized by her.

After a day of continuous thoughts and dreams, I took the leap and uttered a string of words to her that to this day I have no recollection. Something happened. I did not have to think of what to say …the words just flowed out. Talking to this stranger was the easiest thing I had ever done.

We bonded very quickly and talked about everything. We shared our secrets, likes, dislikes, histories…our entire lives. After only a few days, it was as if we’d known each other since birth. The number of things that we have in common is absolutely amazing.

This was 3 ½ years ago. Today I feel the same way. We are very similar, but even with our differences…we balance each other in the most perfect way.

In this woman…with her; old man fetishes, quirky weirdness, yearning to ‘rescue’ any and all animals to keep as pets…her love for religion and her uncontrollable and overwhelming tendency to emotionally be sucked into ANYONE’S misfortune…..I have found the woman that I’d do anything for…that I will be with til the end of time…that makes me strive to be better every day…that STILL makes my heart beat faster in her presence.

This sexy, smart, funny, outgoing, loving and honest woman is the woman of my dreams.

**I wonder if she knows who she is.

"Weight! ...I'm Going To A Vegas Buffet!"

The saying... "everything is big in Texas" is wrong...check out the Vegas buffets.

I’ll start off by saying that I am, by no means, a skinny guy. I am not big…but do have a bit of a…round mid-section.

Now I have nothing against the ‘larger breed’ but after being in Las Vegas over the weekend, and doing my best to make up for losses at the all you can eat buffets…I am simply amazed at the number of severely obese people camped out at their tables with huge plates of greasy food laid out in front of them.

I do admit that I pride myself on how much I can eat. I do make a point of loading up at buffets and am not scared to have more than one plate in front of me. That being said, I usually have a big plate of salad and then a plate of meat and starches...and maybe a veggie or two.

Walking around the buffet at the casino, I could not help but to stare in amazement at the tables of ‘large’ people and the foods that were piled high on their plates. Mounds of fried chicken and shrimp, huge cuts of fatty prime rib and mountains of buttery mashed potatoes and then there were assortments of cakes, pies and ice creams filled the center of many of the tables.

I don’t know if it is just me, but I could not help but to think that if I were as big as some of those people, I’d have a hard time feeling ok with piling it up the way that I witnessed. That...along with the tables with very large parents and seriously obese children...kind of made me mad. What are the parents thinking?

Maybe it has something to do with ‘the numbers’ – trying to offset the cost of the rooms and how much they gambled. Maybe it is more of an uncontrollable urge. Maybe it is just me…judging…since I am not that big…yet.

I don’t know. I seemed to only see these huge people in and around the buffets…never at the gaming tables and rarely at the slots. Why do they come to Vegas? It can’t be to walk around and explore the city. I could barely walk a block without the need to towel off all of the sweat in the sweltering neon city.

I know that this post makes me out to be quite the judgmental ass hole, but I can assure you that I do not dislike obese people…I may not understand their thinking at times, but I have some obese people that I am very close with and they are some of the most genuine and loving people in my life.

Well……..If you think you hate me now….just wait til my next post…I am sure that I will outdo myself and once again dig a big hole to dive into.

Fake Fuckers, Exes and the Internet

I will start by throwing out a quick question….
Why the fuck has Blogging and Twitter become so cliquey?

I think it is stupid that people’s circles tend to grow by the number of noses that they can fit up their asses and how many bung holes they themselves can snuggle with.

I started blogging and using Twitter as they were good tools for throwing out your honest thoughts and feelings. I no longer feel this way. I am seeing all of these little cliques of people pretending to be people that they are not…gravitating towards the folks that have a bit of a following already. It is like being in high school all over again.

The fact that people can’t be comfortable just being themselves is beyond me. As you may have noticed, I have not posted anything in a while, have not been commenting and Twittering has been less frequent. I am about at a loss of words.

My ex Twitters and blogs and has seemingly gathered a little, mentally challenged, group of folks that she has convinced that I am some kind of devil and now these people follow my blogs and tweets as well as everything that Mariah writes.

Yes, I know…this post is morphing…but not that much off point.

Anyway, this woman, my ex, is soooooo not the person that she leads you to believe. (I will distribute email addresses for a handful of folks that know her quite well that can tell you ….if you are interested) She has sole legal and physical custody of my boys , yet has been evicted from 4 houses in 5 years for not paying rent. She has been booted from several banks for being fraudulent, has had my boys switch schools cuz she does not pay the tuition, etc, etc.

I’d be fine with her doing whatever she wants but now I am having my boys complain to me about having to live with their friends …and having to move…AGAIN.

She and her lawyers (who she is on number 4 now…yes…unpaid bills) have done a pretty good job convincing the judge that I am not a capable father(…yet am side by side with Mariah, raising her 4 children) and a drug addict (yet I’ve passed every urine and hair follicle test thrown at me.

I don’t know…this whole thing is making me sick and I wish people could just be real, say what is on their mind and not worry so much about what the fuck other people think about them.

People who are friends with my ex….unfollow me and and Mariah and mind your fucking business! You don’t know us and have never met us...(with the exception of one back-stabbing fucker...who knows who he is.)

Those of you who just need to belong to a popular clique…I hope you grow up…for your families’ sake.

Guess that is enough for now…

I will undoubtedly lose some followers from this one!!!! I could care less.

AND IT TOOK LESS THAN AN HOUR TO GET THESE TWO EMAILS FROM THE TIME i POSTED THIS...

You lying son of a bitch. I've switched schools bc of tuition!? Our sons were in PUBLIC school and I switched them to private. I've been evicted 5 times? You're a lying sob and I'm filing for a restraining order as (My lawyer) already said I should. Especially since I've been told you said you'd commit homicide if you were here. I think that's the 3rd time you've said that? (And yes, people got screen shots before you deleted that tweet)

You don't know the truth but are lying about me. Yet you have no job, fraudulently claim the kids on your taxes, neglect the kids. You are in for the biggest shitstorm of your life. You owe me tens of thousands in child support, our children witness prostitutes with you, you don't properly care for our kids, I could go on. I have kept quiet for the sake of (The Boys), but since you don't care about them, I guess it is time to stoop to your level. I didn't before but I'm done.

And then you attack Jim? He knows who you are. He's a real man. He is an amazing dad. You are a pathetic, lazy, drug addict, liar who would rather focus on me because that's easier than looking at your own flaws.

Real smart to do this right before we're headed to court and I've gotten an earful from some of your "friends" already in Chicago.

Off to mingle with more of your 'friends'

…

And then…

Oh - and about the address. Mail any supposed check to (My Lawyer’s) office. We're telling the court about your recent actions including helping someone who has been stalking us and threatening homicide yourself, so in addition to a restraining order we are seeking to limit your visitation and prevent you from knowing where I live.

Please do not email me anymore. All communication needs to go through my lawyer (and no, he's not my 4th lawyer), since you are harassing me.

A Better Man

Conflicted, twisted, can’t get it straight
Feelings of uselessness invade the mind
Is there a better man for them?
A candle flickering, the sun peaking through clouds
Fighting off the self disgust
Jealousy, insecurity...the stabbing pain
Is there a better man for them?
Doing my best…not nearly enough
Happy but hating
Loving and loved…but is it enough
Things can’t go on in the manner they are
Is there a better man for them?
The scale teeters, weight on both sides
What is for the best – love or money
Clutching to a thread, unable to choose
I had better be right, I’ve got everything to lose

Am I helping or hurting?

Determination

Finding the truth within oneself
Like climbing a mountain of gravel with no footing to be found
Many get stuck, more get scared - yet we go on
Ledges are loved ones and loose sand our enemies
We must choose the right path
repel and try again until we get it right
Reaching the top is a long hard journey

But once it’s done, it’ll be easy to see
Determination and a good heart is all that you need

all for a carton of smokes

As many of you know…or can tell…I have not had what most would refer to as a ‘normal’ life.

This is a story that changed a lot within me and will never be forgotten.

From early in the day, the cellblock was busier but quieter than usual. This always happens when something big is coming. The quiet before the storm. The Black and Latino gangs seemed to have more distance between them than usual. As the day drifted on there was a lot of quick meetings and whispering happening within the gangs. The rec yard and mess hall were tense, yet uneventful, which was far from typical. Looking down from the third floor balcony, the common room looked like a pair of hypnotic eyeglasses, swirling groups of people on either side and a few misplaced guards in between.

Gangs in lock up are simple yet complex. They can be quite large but only the top three have any say on what happens that day. Many have no interest in being in a gang, or taking part in the insane schemes, yet protection…a family is an unavoidable need.

It was about 8PM when there seemed to be a lot more scampering around. The volume on the TV was turned up as the Latino leader and his 2 under-bosses emerged from their “office.” Simple gestures by him sent the Latino soldiers on their missions. As a group of about 15 men all converged on the level one balcony, the lookouts began signaling. There seemed to instantly 2 dozen Black soldiers surrounding the Latinos. At first there was just a lot of tough looks, talk and pushing going on. The tension was high, it felt as if it were 100 degrees on the block. The looks on everyone’s faces were looks of fear and confusion mix with honor and duty – reminiscent of soldiers on a battlefield. With another nod from the leader everything seemed to start moving in slow motion. 3 men entered a cell. Outside it was like a scrimmage line on a football field. Hitting and pushing with nobody gaining ground. Moving nearer, There were glimpses of a fellow block-mate backing into the corner of his cell, with his comrades unable to help him. The sight was frightening, even though he was the enemy.

As the muffled calls for help emerged from the cell, it was clear to everyone that his time had come. There seemed to be a slight pause before the view of stabbing motions filled the cell. All watched quietly as the victors emerged from the cell with blood-soaked hands. Quickly, with tear-glazed eyes, the sight of people running, weapons disappearing and smiles from the balcony were seen. It was clear that many involved were filled with hidden emotions. Beneath the smiles and cheers, it was easy to see the fear and sadness. Returning to the cells, hearing the jingling of keys on the guards’ belts as they ran into the block, everyone laid in their bunks, closed their eyes…all this for a carton of smokes.