Pac-Man.......

He got game.....

I love sports...... people...... hounds...  life....... laughter.... hugs... niceness...  Rock and Roll, put another dime in the juke box baby.......

(Quick juke box story....  I gotta good buddy that loves any, every - thing, about music.  Over the years, he's provided hunnerds of juke box hours for us buddies... he introduces us to 'new, good, stuff'... stuff from long ago that we'd maybe hurdled over... all.  Like life nowadays, modern juke boxes have the I WANT WHAT I WANT AND I WANT IT NOW MODE.  That is, you pay an extra nickel, or, dime, quarter - probably dollar+, and you can..... from your chair with phone in hand, pay/play where your song is NEXT UP, no matter how many songs have already been punched in, paid for.  Oft times, he does it simply because he can't stand the music that so-and-so enjoys - so he purposely does this to get his goat.  I love goats too.)

As I logged in at way too damn early to read the E-Edition of the local paper - sometimes available as early as 3am, usually by 4, always by 5am... I was happy - thought of PAC-MAN.

I suppose life moods can be, are, effected by - depression.  To that though, I suggest - is there anything wrong with wanting, thirsting for happy, fun, good?  Heck to the no there ain't nuttin' wrong with it.  I reckon if that's depression - so be it.

I'm a weirdo, but you knew that.  Sitting to read the E Paper - was, to me, like a fine diner would be as he/she sat, approached a 5 course meal, accompanied by the 'Kool-Aid Kool-Aid, can't wait" hunger - and, the knowledge of which damn utensil to use, when. (Me?  I've grown accustomed to your face - McDonalds lady)..  paper sacks..  MY fine dining.

Anyways... I was excited.  Thirsty.  Alive.. Wanting.  I saw Pac-Man... The little circle guy (or gal) munching down, collecting, charging at, through, dots.  Dots of life.

We all know, death is one day approaching.  We dunno the GPS of it.. Where we'll be, what we'll be wearing if anything (that's skeery ain't it!).. what town, street, highway, what physical, mental condition we'll be in.  Pac-Man gets unplugged occasionally.

In. The. Meantime.  MUNCH baby!

Little things excite me.  (Big too, but little as well).. Miniature Schnauzers I have an affinity for...  Dauchunds..  Toddlers (Is there ANYTHING in this life BETTER than two uplifted arms of a 2 or 3 year old grandkiddo? I think not!)... short buddies who self depricate that.. Petite women (go ahead, shoot me.. please note, I did say "Big too"!)... 

As I remembered my password for the paper, loggged in - the little things I was thirsty for.... different for me than you, she than he, that one over there likes, lives for this - he, up there, enjoys, is perked by - that.  Baseball results. We lost, but, won five out of the last six.. that excites me.  I have my favorite players - for you, it could be watching General Hospital, The Young and the Restless - and your favotire characters there.  Heck you could thirst, Pac-Man for 24 hours a day of the Food Channel, I dunno.  Whatever floats your boat, up to and including hunting and fishing, I dunno.

Next.  The guys our local professional football team just drafted.  Yours might be a 2,000 piece jigsaw puzzle... There IS similarity.  How they all fit.  What are their shapes, sizes, flamboyance or not, smile.. are they type A's...  quiet dudes.. . knocking on the oak table I sit at, our General Manager, scouting staff, seemingly have a wonderful handle on bringing good people to our team.  Of course, good at football, but, good at life too. Yum, party on Pac-Man. Eat them dots.

And,whilst munching the dots reading the paper - much like life in general, we can sidestep, avoid, hop over crap we either don't like, or, got zero interest in.  Some'a those for me, usually most articles of local 'interest' (it's usually guns, crashes, court argues, yada...  ) I ain't real hep on the Food Section (hey, I do have a new Foreman grill and an Air Fryer - never hadme onea them)..  I ain't into hockey.. tennis.. you go though, munch them dots if that's you...

Mosta the time, "US and World News" meh...... comics, I read one or two.. ALWAYS Sudoku (along with occasional depression for many, comes, addiction, I am addicted to Sudoku. Could be worse eh?)

I won't bore you any further..  The main thing, thirst for life.  Eatin, can't wait for, them dots.  Go you chicken fat go...... No, wait, that ain't it. Go Pac-Man.  Chomp.  Chomp chomp chomp.

Pac-Man, for me at least, brings back good memories from 'the day and age'.  I saw it came on the scene in 1980.  I was not particularly a Pac-Man addict, but I loved the jist of the game, the love of the love others had for the game.  The Sound, yeah, I even enjoyed that.  It was a much more appeasing, pleasing precedent than the 1985 introduced AOL and their horrific connection, fingernail on chalkboard sounds.

Besides, in 1980, I at least more closely resembled the first letter of my name (V)... Now, ha, it's (O) baby...  as in Big O tires... Scroll to addiction, cookies, Fritos, carboholic, ain't-got-time, microwave me a up a quick processed food item.

Life is all about Pac-Man, thirst, quest for yum, s'more.  SMILE.  Some folks, seeing them walk in, YEAH BABY, here's my BIG OLE SMILE I'm so glad to seeya, know ya... whilst other, perhaps, ya smile as they walk on out the door. VICTOR!  Hey, don't gimme that crap - I KNOW sometimes you feel the same way!

I'm going for more dots (coffee) now... Please have lotsa dots (smiles, hugs, texts, compliments, fist bumps, good times)..  Pet a dot (hound).. stroke a dot (Kitty)..  

Life still excites.  Sure, down happens.  One of my alltime favs from back in the day was Joe Namath.  He was (bold, cocky, but - good) and he usedta say "I can't wait for tomorrow because I get better looking each day."  Along with Pac-Man comes realism. Joe, I love ya, but, I've seen you recently in somea them Medicare Plan adverts... it looks like maybe a lotta them nights you never went to bed at all.  Eh, mebbe he was just playing Pac-Man, I dunno.

Sometimes the 'ghosts' win out, chomp on Pac-Man. Me, I plan to attempt to be very attentive, avoid that, munch as much as I can in the days, weeks, months, hopefully years ahead.  I like dots. And life.

And you.

Love, Victurd

Age is just a number.

Relax.... I ain't gonna tellya to get outta the recliner, plank for three minutes, jog a mile, then finish it off with fitty pushups.  Nope.  Just a bird's eye on age.

A few years back.  Was with a girlfriend - early morn, the birthday of her granddaughter - we'd driven across town to awaken her, wish her Happy Birthday.  Walked into the room.. dark.. light peeked in from the curtains..  "Kendall, wake up, it's your Birthday!  You're FOUR!"  Big ole' smile came on, eyes, they's huge too... "Does that mean I can read?"

We go thru life setting 'alarms' for specific ages...  Being age 5 by August - denotes you're AOK to go to Kiddygarden.  Somewheres 'tween  5 and 10 it's 'sign me up' to be a Brownie or Cub Scout.

Of course - teenager.  Yippee, FITTEEN, hand me the FOB Pops!  16, the real thing, not a permit, go, drive, by one's lonesome.  I remember one redheaded frecklefaced dude that turned 16 his Junior year (he musta been a heller, they sent him to kiddygarden, age 4).. anyways, he got his DL ON the day of Prom.  Father said "Don't leave Liberty" (our fine little town.)  Later that night I, er, I mean he, straddled a huge median on the Plaza (South of downtown Kansas City.. Liberty is North of KC).. oops.

18, vote, serve.  21, get served.

After that, there's kind of a void on, "Hey, what age, goal, next?"

I suppose early adulthood, 18 to mid-30's, we start out po'.... get a little dough... add numbers to the household (wifey, hubby, kiddo(s).. and soon, back to po'.

Mid-life - 'around 40's to 50's' - AI (sorry Google, Wiki, ya done been replaced by AI, they're faster).. "This stage is characterized by a decline in certain cognitive functions, including memory and processing speed, but also a time of transition and reflection." Well holy crap, that ain't fun?

Oh, age fitty, AARP (offer to join) comes in the mail. Used mine for kindling in our 

outdoor firepit.

Fitty five to Sixty five - we commute (or, Spotify from our home job) with Johnny 

Paycheck and his  "Take This Job And Shove It"...

But, most of us are forcibly glued to our office desk until Age 65 when Medicare kicks in. 

Too late for "Imagine me and you, I do, I think about you day 

and night, it's only right"... no that ain't it... but, it's too late for most of us raisins, 

BUT, "we gotta get outta

this place if it's the last thing we ever do" and find affordable healthcare nationwide.  

I admittedly suck

at long range planning - think most are in my boat - and thus, HAVE to work until 65.

'

OK, end of blog.  All the important ages have been addressed. WAIT JUSTA GOL 

'DURN MINUTE. I'M STILL HERE!..ME TOO!  Yeah, I as well.

OK OK, yes, 4 to 5% of folks live to be a hunnerd. (For every action, there is an equal 

and opposite reaction)That is, when the inhale to blow out a hunnerd candles takes place, Newton's 3rd Law 

tells us the Depends are getting soiled, kinda like a 'recoil' from a shotgun.  Victor, that's disgusting.  Eh, 

whatever. Does your Fixodent lose it's flavor on the bedpost overnight.

This blog today happened because I truthfully wondered, now what?  Now what am 

I supposed to do? At this age?  AI tells me, most old farts:

Read, have hobbies, garden, family stuff, exercising like walking swimming, volunteering, 

social groups, clubs, travel, dance, sports, tasks, relax. Not a word about NAP. I guess I'm abnormal.

Games... chess, scrabble, bingo, solitaire, sudoku, puzzles, Mahjong, yada.

AI, undoubtedly developed, created, programmed by wet-behind-ear types, urge us old'ns to get out there

and learn new tricks, art class, play an instrument, yada.  AI (frequently) messages me on Facebook with 

suggestions, explanations, yada.  I immediately type the endearing old person "Oh thank you so much for

your suggestion Sonny, much appreciated!"

Victor, I call BS. You're correct.  I always type back "SCRAM" and they say "BYE" faster'n Mashall Dillon

could draw his gun outta his holster.

To me, the Golden Age affords one the opportunity to recognize there are no have to's. We, or, the ones

in school a few years older - are the ones that questioned everything with "Why?" so why stop now, ya know?

There too are well meaning friends that enjoy 'fixing', or, at least attempting to fix (control?).. I once

read, when this, these, well meaning friends put forth an agenda, a game plan, whaddever, you should

'look them in the eye, then take your shoe off. Drives 'em batty, they lose their train of thought and it's 

a way of saying (without saying) "concentrate on ya' own damnself."

Victor, that's not very nice. Well, I once heard an ex say (I ain't saying which one, heck, mighta been 

both, I dunno) "You're not as nice as people think you are."  Hehe.  My point, it's a glorious age this

run to the the squatter to beat the pee there... Arrgggggh like a Pirate as our joints talk to us getting 

outta bed.. Go the speed limit.. Pisses 'em off.  It's a fun age. In fact, I have just the right pinstriped shirt 

picked out to wear to the Piggly Wiggly with these checkered shorts., where I will take the motorized cart,

challenge similar fat, old farts in motorized carts "Wanna race?"... then fetch my groceries to the counter,

spend a minute or seven picking out six different scratch off tickets.

THIS AGE.

I've waited all my life for this age and never knew it.

Give em hell.  Harry did, no reason why we can't too.

Love, Victurd

*Blogger note.  I played hell trying to fix the margins on this. I think it's AI getting back at me.

Anyways, I thought there was a touch of irony, cause ain't the age we are right now the age of

hating being forced by margins? Rules, do this, don't do that.  You'll shoot your transplanted 

intraocular lens out?

Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and.......... Kale chips?

I'm a chocolate mess.  What's more, it don't really bug me too much.

I don't think there's many that were born around the time Tom Terrific entered the cartoon scene - that still, run.  Various reasons.  Knees. Hips.  Can't.  Mainly, don't wanna.

Baby affliction here.  I wouldn't "give anything" to be able to run, because I know, that if I could - I wouldn't. Ha.  Sure, I occasionally go to the gym, walk in the water, I can'ts stand on my feet on regular ole regular ground for very long at all before the "go sit down you idiot" urge hits.  I'm OK with that.

Occasionally, I'll go to the gym....... sit slovenly in the hot tub...  listening to fellow geezers in hopes of good blog scoop to retell........ then, go do the same in the sauna.  Then, go home.  Victor?  You mean no exercise at all when you go?  Uh huh, exactly. There are some days I don't even walk in the pool.  That's crazy, what's the point?  Borrowing from Mick...... "Hey hey you you get offa my cloud... hey hey you you get offa my cloud."

I find "yum" in this age.  A lifetime, we all spent, well... I guess the majority of us...  living, doing, because we should (and more than likely we didn't, I know I didn't)  "An apple a day, 30 minutes of cardio, 45 minutes every other day of weightlifting, arms one day, legs the next, keep the Doctor (and grey hair, wrinkles, bursitis, athritis, itchy itchy rashes) away."  Patooey.

Exceptions to the rule.  A gal that played basketball for me, she's only, I think 10 years younger.  Her luggage has tags from allover the US, marathons completed in boo koo states, including, the Boston.  Knee replacement. OH NO. I love her, she's a hard head, in a good way.  She posted videos, where, lil by lil, she worked her way back up to..... RUNNING!  WHAT? Uh huh. Did.

And then, two buddies, lifelong buddies... one, I ain't checked with him in a few years, BUT, for years and years and years daily, he ran up (and down) the steps at our high school.  Doesn't sound impressive?  Mebbe you had to be there... it's like ten times farther than "Yo Adrian" ran up them steps in Philly.

And yet another, 4 times a week..... goes around 20 or so machines, lifting this, squatting that, pushing thisaway, thataway, fitteen reps on each, and then does the same dadgum thing three more times around. He's slender. (Old) Chicks dig it.  I ain't got it in me.

Bravo. Kudos. Nomme.

Do you have ANY idea how many episodes of Mayberry RFD, Homestead Rescue, Treehouse Masters I'd miss if I did all that? ..  Not to mention the local newscasts with that one anchor lady I've been in love with since I turned 40-something.  I 'promise' Doc, I'll start......... next week......... year....... leap year......... decade.

IT. IS. THE. GOLDEN. YEARS.  Ya'hear?

We spent the first 20 years of our life learning "I WANT WHAT I WANT AND I WANT IT NOW" ain't exactly how it works.

Then........ we get married.  Uh huh, SURE, we wanna exercise, but oft times it's met with "the kids are still awake... we just did last Tuesday...  I'm (tired, not into it, mad - you snapped at me at dinner).. it's a weeknight"... etc, etc.  Victor, you're a pig.

Oink, hehe. The two female blog readers that come here just ran away, all good, they'll never then know, hear, be able to recount, that I wrote "We men would literally, be lost without you."

Then, we learn, if we WANT$ WHAT we WANT and WE WANT$ IT NOW, we gotta do the hup two three fours for 40+ hours a week, play in the yard, pool, living room floor with the kids... take the dog to the groomer.. mow mom's yard.. scoop the snow offa your own driveway as well as the older lady's that lives next door.  Hell to the no i ain't going to exercise. Ahm 'tared.

Where were we? Oh yeah, Kale chips.

"Well Victor... for your own health, longevity, we need to get you closer to your BMI."  And, Doc........ that is?  "Well, the healthy BMI range for you is 132.6 to 179.2."  That's a GOOD ONE Doc!  Now.... what is it really?

Scroll to GOLDEN YEARS.  Mebbe, after all them tariffs, its the Chinese Year of The Rat, as in .............. I don't give a Rat's...... well, you know.

I ain't seen 179.2 since before I had hair under my armpits.  I vote, we pick our own BMI, and, instead, call it BFR (be for real) or.. PPBH (pleasantly plump, but happy.)

I know I know, I'm gonna keel.   "A preachment, dear friends, you are about to receive On John Barleycorn, nicotine, and the temptations of Eve" - we all are.

I remember them cheerleaders a singin' "HEY HEY YOU CAN DO IT IF YOU PUT YOUR MIND TO IT."

Ya know, a stroke of pride, kinda sorta. Last year, I went to Mehico for a month. Months prior, I did change my diet.  Huh uh, no bread.. Sugar - what's that?  I got down to 200 pounds and, you're gonna ask "from what?" and I'm gonna answer "I'm sorry... what'd you say?"

Why do it again?  I didn't come home with no older Mamacita, I never even got kissed. That's a lotta Wonder Bread and Spice Drops I missed out on.

Ohhhh OK.  So I Googled "Healthy Snacks" (with a fine eye to crunchy ones, I like crunchy).. 

Greek yogartt.. kale chips... edamame (who?)..  pumpkin seeds (that's a maybe)..  rice cake sandwiches (nope, sorry, tariffs)...  hummus.. (who?)..  beets.... ahm, next please..   artichoke...

Googling "Mostly healthy snacks"......apple... banana.. blueberries... popcorn...  almonds.. cheese...

OK, mebbe.

So........ I go to the Piggly Wiggly........ no Mehico but I could stand to cut back......

Almonds.... yep....   

Chip aisle..  VICTOR DON'T DO IT..  Hey, it's where the cheese dip is!  Oh, and these lighly salted restaurant chips ain't that bad.....

Cookie aisle... VICTOR!  It's the Golden Years damnit!   I'll cutback and only get one package.

Darnit, they're outta chocolate pinwheel thingies... well.. I'll just grab this cheap vanilla sandwich thing, kajillion cookies for not very much...  oh... and this Pecan Shortbread thing.. I THOUGHT YOU SAID ONE?  Eh, whatever.  PEANUT BUTTER!  YAY!  I'm set for a week! ............. OK, three days.

Life is a full cycle kinda thing.

I WANT WHAT I WANT AND I WANT IT NOW.  Mom, dad learn us Huh uh.

I WANT WHAT I WANT AND I WANT IT NOW.  Marriage learns us it's a two way street.

I WANT WHAT THE JONE'S GOT AND I WANT IT NOW.   "Go directly to work (jail), do not pass the bar, golf course, gym (ha), to collect your $200,"

And finally, the Golden Years...  I WANT WHAT I WANT AND I WANT IT NOW.

You picked a fine time to leave me Lucille.

Love, Victurd

Money money money.........ouchy.

Victor, EVERYONE has heard this story.

Bite me, I'm old. It's what we old people do, we tell stories over and over and over again - WITH, the same vim and victor, er, vigor, each, and every time. 

Babe Ruth's pay raise in 1930 put his annual salary at a record $80,000.  Astonished "yeah but" sport's writers pointed out "How do you feel about making more than the President of the United States makes? (Herbert Hoover, then making $75,000 per year)..  "Well, I had a better year than he did."

Rich man, poor man. Scratch that. Rich man, poor woman.  Women in professional athletics, in comparison to male professional athletes - way behind the 8 ball in pay. Caitlin Clark.  Heard'a her?  Uh huh, me too.  THE #1 draft choice in the WNBA, had a salary of $76,535 this year.

Zaccharie Risacher. Heard'a him?  Me neither, I truthfully don't pay too much attention to the NBA draft.  Anyways, he was the #1 draft choice, signed a four year rookie contract that would make his first year's salary $10.5 million.  Gulp. That's alotta money, that's a lotta disparity.

Touchy subject for those on both sides'a the fence.  Thankfully, as least I am thankful, strides are being made.  Tennis was the first sport to guarantee equal prize money for major tournaments.   Leading countries Norway and the US have made progress in closing in on equal pay for National Soccer teams in international games.

Players in the NBA, NHL and NFL have bargained for obtaining roughly fitty percent of all revenue (tickets, TV, jersey sales, that stuff) going to players.  The WNBA, under a present Collective Bargain Agreement make 9.3% of all revenue. Smartly, me thinks, the players are opting outta that agreement which ends Halloween this year.  Stay tuned to a potential lockout, work stoppage if the sides can't come to an agrement.

Victor, this ain't your normal blog. I know.  I really have trouble being normal.  

Turning the male/female corner........... Hearda Hank Greenberg?  I'm old, I have.  I Googled "first pro athlete to make $100,000" and it was he.  1947, he had a dispute over dough with his team the Detroit Tigers.  They wouldn't pay what he wanted, so, he decided to retire.  Then, Detroit sold his contract to the Pirates, they offered the record $100,000 a year, "YEP, I'll play."

Bored, I Googled more. I wondered what The Mick's highest contract was...  A hunnerd thousand in 1963 and he never ever asked for another raise.  Hey, to me, that's a lot!  Back in dinosaur days, my first teaching/coaching contract (1978) was $9,800 annually and I was DELIGHTED.  

The NFL is considered THE RICHEST SPORT, generating billions annually through broadcasting rights, sponsorships, and other revenue streams........... BUT........

Wir wollen mehr....  Queremos mais..  Nosotras queremos mas.....   That's WE WANT MORE, as they are attempting to garner International expansion by playing games in Brazil, German, Spain, England, Canada, yada.

Before this blog returns to it's normal, mundance crap............ I'll defer to Bobby Bonilla.

Who?

Bobby Bonilla.

Oh, thanks.  

Who the hell is he?

Well, he's a retired former Major Leauge Baseball player who has his own day.  HUH?  Yeah, it's July 1st, they call it Bobby Bonilla Day.  How come? Bobby's agent, way back when, concocted, got the Mets to agree to a deferred payment structure.  Bobby retired in 2011, but, his contract calls for, and the Mets are obligated to pay Bobby, $1.19 MILLION every July 1st THROUGH 2035.

"One, two, three, four, One, two (one, two, three, four), Let me tell you how it will be, There's one for you, nineteen for me, Cause I'm the taxman, Yeah, I'm the taxman." The Beatles, George Harrison, 1966.

Have a wonderful tax day,

Love, Victurd

Take two aspirin and virtual visit me in the morning.......

My boomerang won't come back.

There's a hole in my bucket, dear Liza dear Liza.

I've got an itchy, itchy rash.

And then, if you think about, try to think positively.........

Hands........ touchin' hands....  reaching out...  touching me touchin' you....

Sweet Caroline, (bahp bahp bahhh) Good times never seemed so good (SO GOOD SO GOOD SO GOOD.)

I've got a secret.......

(Horshack......) "OOOH!!! OOOH!! OOOH!!!, a nineteen fitties, sixties game show hosted by Garry Marshall...  Ahm, the panel... lemme see...  Bill Cullen... Henry Morgan... Faye Emerson... and Jayne Meadows.."

Horshack put your damn phone away, there ain't no cheatin' in this class.

My secret ain't no secret, thanks (HA) to fingers that hit the keyboard, blog, and tell too dayum much about life, feelings, yada.

I like to think.. (BOY do I like to think) life is really good (And, it is, and... I do think that.)

Butt (my butt is getting fat)...well, it is, butt that ain't where I was going, huh uh, ain't.....

But, negative thoughts creep in........sometimes it's like the annual stream of gnats that get in your house... or...  them Gosh Darn 'skeeters' that welt you up outside in the Summer.

There.......... ain't........ no............ way........ around......  em........

I........... think of ways I'd love to fix the World....... when the World is perty dayum good.   I think of something someone did or said that really bugged me... and rather than let it go... it's like them thoughts travel up into your noggin' in a pair of maracas, and they ShAkE rAtTlE and RoLl, again and again and again.  

Then, I think of that one dude, friend....... (he's so dadgum calm, ain't nuttin' that shakes him... don't he get maraca 'music' up there too?)...... or her, that one lady that you can't knock happy off her face if you wanted to. No mariachi bands for her?

HOW YOU ABLE TO DO DAT?

So......... I come here....... start to write about 'bitch and moan'... play me a game of "Ain't it awful"... and tell the story about boomerangs, bucket holes and itchy itchy rashes.

Truthfully....... I think we all have them moments (OK OK, not all'a ya, but most)..  but, am I the only one that mebbe has a cork in one ear to keep them suckers in?

That's why.......  I try to think'a happy junk to type. I do, I reawwy reawwy do.

Happy like........... little kids.  Innocent, having fun.... eyes wide open... fun. Exploring this, laughing at that, hugging her, him, that hound, their teacher, mom, dad, yada.

Or music....... Clapton's been running thru my brain.  I love, love, love, the rhythm, beat, melody to Promises, then, I pay closer attention to the lyrics...   I got a problem, can you relate

 I got a woman callin' love hate, We made a vow we'd always be friends, How could we know that promises end.

Aye chihuahua... build me up, buttercup.  Lemme be like you (the dude where nuttin' shakes him) or her (can't never wipe no smile off'a her face.)

I do............... oh baby....... I do think........ in general....... I wear a smile..... (or smirk, SEG, whadeva' ya wanna call it.)..... I DO very much love me some life....... people watching.. engaging with folks...  and I think I do (mosta the time) puttin' them negative Nelly thoughts in a smaller font....... La Cucaracha, maracas, GO AWAY.)

Victor, what else?  What else what?  What else do you think of to be, stay, promote, HAPPY?

Ahm, chocolate covered pecans.  Bobby Witt runnin' the bases...  a dog's tail...... a kitty's 'leave me the hell alone'....... THOSE.... those in my life I love love love, even ole' gf's who took the Snagglepuss, "Exit, stage left."

Humor. I think humor (or attempts at, I know, I know)..... help.  Like my ex SIL.  We call each other Outlaws now.  I don't want to discourage her though... that's why I tell her "You're still, in my top 150 favorite people." Hehe.

People are truly wonderful. i believe it, STRONGLY.  I love when folks ask "Howya doing?" AND, not just in passing.  I love when they ask that, and then, watch 'em listen intently to the answer... I too... TRY to do that to you, my friends, as well.  Care, concern = happy.

So Victor......... how are you doing?

I'm good, honest, and tyvm.  Them negative thoughts... thankfully, to put in.... ah, porcelain comparison, only happen as often as #2, and thankfullyl not as often as #1.  VICTOR, I MAY NEVER READ THIS BLOG AGAIN, THAT was disgusting.  Sorry, kinda sorta, not really.  Sometimes I like disgusting as much as white lies, fingers crossed behind the back.  Disgusting is better'n negative ain't it?

Googling 'howthehell do stop negative thoughts' brought me, 

Show gratitude.....I likes me some blog readers.

Focus on strengths..... Pew, strong... brb, going to hose off, brush chops, put some Mando on.

Embrace humor......... did you hear about the constipated mathematician?  He worked it out with a pencil.

Help others.  Ahm, I can try to put a smile on your face, but, if like, you're moving across town, call 2 Men and a Truck.

Enjoy the moment.  I do, I am, I planta. Hope you do too.

I'm ok now. I ain't taking two aspirin.  I might have a pina colada and put the lime in the coconut and drink it all up, but nope, cancel that $25 copay Mabel.

Negative thoughts....... grain of salt.  Reckon bat'ries wouldn't charge without negative posts.

Don't worry (too much), be happy,

Love, Victurd

Let me tellya about the birds and the bees......

And the flowers and the trees
And the moon up above
And a thing called "Love" ～～

A-well-a everybody's heard about the bird
Bird, bird, bird, b-bird's the word
A-well, a bird, bird, bird, bird is the word
A-well, a bird, bird, bird, well-a bird is the word

Well... there's ZZ and ZW... and something they call the cloacal kiss but I won't let it fly here.. .Google if ya wanna... While social monogamy amongst birds is common (one male and one female pair), sexual monogamy is rare.  Arkansas Arkansas, I just love ole Arkansas.

Bees.  If this were a tour in Germany, and Arte Johnson (he of Laugh In) was the guide, he might begin with "Verrrry interesting."  Ya got the drones, which, are male.  The Queen, duh.  And worker bees, sterile females. It ("you know") happens in mid-air, but there are no stories 'bee gents' can hand down, because, shortly after acceptance of 'you know', it's ripped off, drone falls to ground and dies. Makes one wonder what all the buzz is about with The Mile High Club.

Flowers.  Google tells me "Men give women flowers to express affection, appreciation, or congratulations, as flowers are a common and often beautiful way to convey positive emotions and make someone feel special." HELLO?  GOOGLE?  I'm 72, I didn't just get here yesterday.

Moon.  Well, them two Astronauts (both married but not too each other). they weren't going to 

the moon but, they headed intospace with plans to be there for a week or so... the Starliner capsule they flew to the International

Space Station encountered faults and left them there nine months.  "Honey, we'll be back

in a week or so."  Uh huh, sure.  

Let me tell you about the stars in the sky
And a girl and a guy
And the way they could kiss
On a night like this

Stars, girl, guy.  Stars are what the guy might see should he do any of the following:  Mention a growing derriere, speak badly of his MIL, come home from golf four hours after dark, "Honey I'll be back from Outer Space in a week or so."  Not quite the penalty bees get, clobbered nonetheless.

When I look into your big brown eyes
It's so very plain to see～～～
That it's time you learned about the facts of life Starting from A to Z.

Google say "In humans, eye color is a highly sexually dimorphic trait."  Whatever, I ain't looking it up.  Men are more likely to have blue eyes than women, and women are more likely to have darker eye colors (green and brown) than men.

The only thing we haven't addressed is love.

I wonder, wonder who, who-oo-ooh, who
(Who wrote the book of love?)
Tell me, tell me, tell me
Oh, who wrote the book of love

Love means never having to say you're sorry.

Sugar is sweet, Lemons are tart

I love you more than a unicorn fart.

"I couldn't take it any longer
Lord I was crazed
And when the feeling came upon me
Like a tidal wave
I started swearing to my god and on my mother's grave
That I would love you to the end of time"   Meatloaf

A true love story never ends.

"You can't blame gravity for falling in love."  Albert Einstein

We're so sorry Uncle Albert, but tell that to a bee drone.

Love is like the wind, you can't see it but you can feel it.

Sorry, kinda, to speak of all this in jest.  I love love.  I love much. I love

seeing others in love. Love makes the World go round.  Love rocks.

SAY!  You look JUST LIKE my 6th wife!

GOOD LORD MAN, HOW MANY TIMES YOU BEEN MARRIED?

Five.

Love, Victurd

Pong, Piminto Cheese and Dog Parks.....

If I were smarter, truly, my brain might scare me.  Don't though, scroll to previous blogs admitting "C+, M+ student.  The hell is The Honor Roll?"

It wanders, wonders, allover the place.  Thus, Pong.  Me thinks they call it something like ADHD, ie, Attention-Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder.

Skipping to another thought, har har, I have some favorite places in the World to go.  The Dog Park is one.  The thing Google tells me, folks with ADHD sometimes experience a state of intense focus, where they become deeply engrossed in a particular activity or interest.

What better than a dog park?  Like-minded individuals, happy - there ain't no dread in dog parks, it's all hell-to-the-yeah, let's go baby!  There's a certain 'mental high' to see one's pooch happy - which, in turn makes us happy.

ADHD. Attention-Dog, Hyperactivity-Dog.  Pong.  Go here, pee there. Sniff that one, ignore the next. Let's run South..... then West... Down to the shade..... back to mom, or dad, or whomever.  Pant.  Water.  Do it again.  Arf.  Newbie. Meet, greet the newbie at the gate.  Follow newbie South, then West, then to shade, back to mom.  Pant, water, do it again. Big, small, don't matter, we love all.

Kids with ADHD.  Struggle to pay attention... "Fido, c'mere!".. Fidgety.  "Run South.. then West.. down to the shade."  Forgetful.  Trouble following instructions.  "SIT Rover."  Talking obsessively.  "ARF, ARF, ARF."  For years, Pediatricians, Teachers, School Counselors/Principals - came up with  "We don't know, but give him this."  Which, kinda reminded me of the Movie "One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest" Nurse Ratched and her controlling "Do what I say, leave us the hell alone, don't cause trouble" concoctions. 

Adults with ADHD..... or so they, Google, AI, whomever - say.  Difficulty paying attention, forgetful. Trouble organizing. Fidgety. (TIME OUT. Here's to where I admit, YEP, that's me.  Don't ever look at me and pay close attention - HA - but if you do, you'll notice, continually, I rub my index finger with my thumb. Weird eh?  You?)

S'more adult ADHD crap...... interrupt people.  Can't wait one's turn.  Risky behaviors.  Anxiety and depression.  Low self-esteem. Relationship problems.  Procrastination.  Boredom.  Poor Time Management.  WOW, I am SO GLAD none'a those apply to me.  (HA!)

I think it was Cream in 1966 that sang "I'm so glad.. I'm so glad.. I'm glad, I'm glad, I'm glad.  And...  a couple years before that, Dave Clark and his Five, sang "I'm feelin', glad all over, Yes, I'm, glad all over, Baby, I'm glad all over.....'

Rover, SIT STILL.  Victurd, PUT YOUR THOUGHTS TOGETHER, we need 'em sensical!  Like, you ain't even addressed 'Piminto Cheese'????????

Oh yeah, sorry.. forgot.. fidget. Run West.  South.  Shade. Pant. Water.  

Rory McIlroy. Annuder aspect of ADHD is, can be, perceived failure, which leads to fear of failure, which leads to hitting the ball in the drink to get a double bogey.  Scooby, who was running South at the dogpark, heard that, stopped.. and said "Huh?"

Pong, sorry, kinda.  The connection is, he's playing at the Masters, where, they can be bassackwards - as in, Piminto Cheese prices are a buck and a half (don't be impressed, they too were bassackwards in not allowing women to be members until 2012, which is like, almost a century behind all the other US courses)  Victor, you blurt, hurt. (Another ADHD characteristic, guilty.)

It is said (Say Democrats, Republicans, National Inquirer, People Magazine... just kidding on all those)..  it is said (Googling), sometimes ADHD and OCD surface together.

Rory McIlroy is amazing.  Might not be enough to run DOGE, but, he's won $100,046,906 in his professional golf career.  HOLY ALPO, OLD ROY, none'a that for me...  drop me off at Ruth's Chris Steak House baby!

Newspaper say "Rory was 4 under par after 14 holes......"

He's one win away from a Grand Slam, and no, I don't mean Denny's, two buttermilk pancakes, two eggs cooked to order, two strips of bacon, two sausage patties, hash browns, toast, and a partridge in a pear tree.  I mean, The Golf Grand Slam is, to WIN every major tournament there is. No, I ain't gonna list them 'cause I have ADHD, don't wanna look 'em up.. but... suffice to say HE AIN'T WON THE MASTERS, the ONLY one he ain't.

That, ADHD, OCD, obsession, fear, mind games - are upon him.  He hit a beautiful second shot into a par 5, over the pond that collects so many Titleists... back side of the green. Birdie assuredly eh? Chipped...  downhill... kept rolling... and rolling.. (West? South? Shade?  Pant, pant) and rolled off the green into the pond that eats Titleists - and, in one fell swoop/chip/ADHD/OCD/Fear, crap, he prolly ain't gonna win.

I feel for him. It's like I'm a personal jinx.  EVERY time I watch him, he collapses.  I shouldn't watch him, but I do.  Two holes later, another double bogey.  If he starts that badly today, he might be off to the UK (fail to make the cut) by Saturday.

The mind is really sumpin'. We are all flawed. Imperfect.

Victor, I don't get it. This blog was ALLOVER the place!

Somehow, I think you did.

Going to play golf. Don't give a rats about score, hitting into ponds, woods (I get a discount on golf balls.)  May run by Denny's before I go. Might even go to Dollar (and a Quarter) Tree and snatch me a fidget spinner. (Or is it Dollar Seventy-Five Tree now?) Sorry, kinda, but not really.

Love, Victurd

Life... and fine whine......

Chilly here.  I say that because (I'll get to it).. when we jump outta bed, we're already faced with the fitty-fitty (do I put on a frown today, or, should i let my hair down, have some fun).. Then, of course, you guessed it, we pee.

The News.  So, if we tippy toed into the idea (let my hair down, try to make it a fun day)... we run into breaking news (of course)..  gunshots...  car crashes... The We/They of Political junk, dog eat dog with fangs furled out..  Alice?  Whar'd I put my Blood pressure meds? (I hope she cooks breakfast... you can get anything you want at Alice's kitchen.  Right Arlo?)

So, we rolled our sorry butt outta bed... we picked 'smile'... we had one eye on the news and now we wished we'd had none... then...

(See, I toldya I'd get to it.)..  I finally got wifi back, but, my gizmo to do blogs on something besides an Android - is in the car........so........ that entails "DAMN DADDY IT'S COLD OUT." (If I must pee again, I hope I can find it.  Sorry.  Not really.)

One fang out... sitting under the blanket typing.. a $3.99 cent bought at thrift store hair dryer in hand..  Washing your hair so early?  No. I'm cold.  Hey, it works.

Life and it's "How do you like me now?"

Yesterday..... all my troubles seem so faraway.

No, that ain't it, sorry.  Yesterday, at work.  As I was busting my butt (seated on the back deck of the golf course smoking a cig, one eye on the front door so I can see, be able to, meet/greet an incoming customer.)

IN A FLASH, I see a dad, a teenage kid, and a oh... 9 yr old or so, get outta the car.  The 9 year old or so....allofasudden SPRINTS to the front door!   He looked like onea those speed skaters, his arms werea pumpin, he was excited to the MAX, the oncoming air that went into his smile didn't even slow him down.  Victor, what's the point?  The point is, THAT'S THE WAY, UH HUH UH HUH, I wanna feel, look at, take on life!  You GO runner!  I loveya!

I played High School Football.

No, that ain't it, but, I actually did. In fact, there's an embarrassing blog here somewhere about it.  I, back in the dinosaur days, coached College Basketball.  Womens.  Hell to the no I didn't work my way up, Title IX happened, they sought volunteers.  "Would you consider being the Assistant Coach in our inaugural year Vic?" , the Women's Athletic Director asked... I, me, a sophomore in college myself.. the one with the grade of C- teetering back and forth to D+ in Anatomy and Kinesiology (I GOTS TO HAVE THIS CLASS).. batted my eyes at her, the Prof, and said "Sure."

So, a needle pulling thread.

Damnit Victor, get to it.  So, I enjoy, very much, the Women's NCAA College Basketball Tournament. (My friend Tim Tipton does too, in fact, he thinks of adding another game once the men's, women's tourneys are over, they play each other, and "It'd be close." Right Tip?)

Gene Auriemma.  HE, did work his way up. He just led the UConn Huskies to the National Championship.  He's THE GODFATHER of women's basketball coaching.  His alltime record is 1,249-165.  Holy Guacamole.  I know, right?  TWELVE NATIONAL TITLES. Holy Guacamole (with chips, burritos, tacos, quesadillas, baked potatoes, you get the idea, he da boss).

He's 71.  Victor?  Price of tea? China?  (Hang on, lemme check the tariff updates, oh, sorry, nvmd.)

The association to this story (but first, please know, THE very first concert I ever attended was The Association, a hunnerd and twelve years ago, KCKS, Memorial Hall, I Cherish the memory, ha.)

Gene's association.  Well. there was first me, the shriveled one, trying to decide if bad mood, good mood, news, yuck, weather, brrrrrrrrrrrrrrr..  So, I assume you're getting to his mood?  BINGO!  N41, time for fun!

So....... what does Gene say about waking up, taking on life, smile? Yuck? Roll back over?  Bad mood (not to be confused with BM)?..  "We all feel our age at some point.  We don't like to admit because we still act younger because of the people we're dealing with. So yeah, I may be 71 number-wise, but I think otherwise I'm more able to do stuff with those young people because I'm around them every day and they rub off on me."

OK.

JUST OK?  THAT'S HELLA COOL.  He's got the same piss an vinegar of that youngster'a runnin' into the golf clubhouse... like a speedskater, arms'a flailing, smile'a a coverin' his face........ YEAH BABY!

And then there's Hazel.  She's 81.  Still works.

Because she works with kids?  Makes her feel younger?  Gives her that positive attitude?  Well... kinda.. I guess.  She does say she weaves in, around, and past those whippersnappers - but, she (and a sadly growing list of Senior Citizens) work because they HAVE TO.  "My Social Security is $900 a month, I can't live on that.  So, I wait tables here."

CoWorkers love her.  She walks with an obviously painful limp.  That ain't right, but, her buddies say you can't knock the smile off'a her face.

Some Good Samaritan and her son wondered in one day.  Thought, like we all do, "That just ain't right"..  but then we, well, at least I'll admit, we sit, don't do nuttin' about it, for them.  Not Good Samaritan lady.  She went on TikTok.  I ain't got that, but, I watched enough to know the following:

She tipped Hazel $40.  Way more than her meal cost. She took her "this ain't right" to TikTok.  Funds for Hazel came rolling in. And more.  And, GS (good samaritan) started a GoFundHazel. Viral. Measles?  Bad subject, no.  Views.  Viral views.

Bottomline.  Thanks to more and more and s'more Good Samaritans like GS, Hazel don't HAVE TO work there any longer (Cha Ching, in excess of $300,000 raised, she now CHOOSES TO work there (way less hours though).....  to be with the whips... young folks, nice folks, kind folks.  If you don't move you die they say.

I LOVE THOSE WHO TAKE A YUMMY LOOK AT LIFE.

Snotnose speed skater.

UConn's Geno..  (UConn't always get what you want [to stay young] but if you surround yourself with young, it rubs off)..  

Hazel. Oh Hazel.

I'm a pickin'... and I'm a grinnin'.

Paul Harvey pens the final page.

Walter says "And that's the way it is."

If you were to call for your Kitty Cat to c'mere... but he laid there.. in that cardboard box..  one eye peeking at you, all but saying "Be for real,."  Would that be considered Box Whine?

And I'm going to take a nap....... but pee first.

Love, Victurd

On a Friday in 1961...

Victor, I think you've told this one before.

Give a break, give me a break, break me off a piece...'cause I was 9 then, 64 years ago.

Friday, 1961... cousin Joyce, then an 8th grader.  Science teacher say, "Go home this weekend, get a partner... comeback Monday with your idea for an invention for the future.

Her, partner, did. They proudly, creatively, drew up a picture of a 'portable phone' with a screen on it, and you could actuality see the person you were talking to on the other end. 

Hanna-Barbera you ain't got nuttin' on my cuz because your 'I can see you' video computer call on the Jetsons didnt happen until later on the 60's.

Teach collected the ideas... browsed through them... Tweren't 20 minutes later, teach, peering down with her eyes over her bifocals, incredulous look on her face, uttered, "Never happen.  Take a couple days, come back Wednesday with a realistic idea."

Bummer.

(Not so fast forward) "Sarah, ring me Aunt Bea please."

My Grandmother's Bible. She recorded historic events, births, snowfalls, yada, in the margins of he Bible: "1958... Darrell (my cuz), age 3, dialed his own phone number."

19-fitty-nine, a phone booth at a YMCA in Durbin, South Africa, 25, that's TWENTY-FIVE students stuffed themselves in a phone booth for the record.

"Hello"..  "Ralph?"  "No, sorry, this is Steve.. we've got a party line. Please hang up, call back, I won't answer, hopefully Ralph will."

"Honey, you GOTTA watch how long you talk to so-and-so in Texas, our long distance bill is $79.43 cents!" (Back then, hella lot.)

Pagers.

Bag phones

MOM!  She's STILL on AOL, I've GOT to make a phone call!

And Paul Harvey to today.

iPhones for you rich and famous, Androids for poor poor pitiful me's.

This and that. First cell call ever, April 3rd, 1973. First text message "Merry Christmas".  I was kinda hoping it was a Selfie Pic, along with the verbiage "See teach?! Toldya!"

We look at our phones 150 times per day, that's up from 80-something I'd Googled not too many years back.  Hell, think how the divorce rate might dwindle if only we looked at our spouse 150 times a day. (Ahm Victor?  Yes? Might have the opposite effect.)

Scooby Dooby Doo says "Rut Roh" as the vast majority of cell phones are made in China.

Nomophobia is an addiction to your cell phone.

I enjoy watching a Major League Baseball game... noticing THE person behind the catcher who looks at their phone more than the batter.  THEN, I go online, look at ticket prices for that specific seat in that specific stadium to see how much money she wasted. (MISOGYNIST!  AM NOT! ARE TOO! HOLY SH*T $347!!!

Ahm Victor? Pot, kettle? Ain't you the one I saw at The Landing a few nights back, drinking a $5 beer playing Sudoku on your phone?  Sorry,  can't hearya, we gotta bad connection.

I just called, to say, I love you.  867-5309. (Don't forget Junior's number BR-549). K, won't.  

Not to be confused with Beechwood 4-5789.   Operator. 

We're so sorry, Uncle Albert, but if anything should happen we'll be sure to give a ring.

Call Roto Rooter that's the name..

"Hello, baby!

Yeah, this is the Big Bopper speakin'!

Oh, you sweet thing!

Do I what?

Will I what?

Oh baby, you know what I like!"

This whole dayum blog idea went haywire. Original plan was to relate how Spectrum recorded me, during the sale of the wifi/streaming package they sold me for such and sucha a price. "Will it have FanDuel so I can watch The Royals?"  Uh huh.

Two boxes overnighted, a kajillion cords connected, two packs'a cigs during same, YEAH BABY, connected, cold one in hand, recliner reclined. Gametime, yeah baby!

Uh oh.

"Press 1 for English."

"I see you're calling from....is that the number on the account you're calling about?

YES.

"Allright, in a few words, please tell us why you're calling.  You can say things like 'tech support... billing..." I AINT GOT FANDUEL!

"I'm sorry, I didn't understand."  Representative". So I can connect you to the correct person.. could you, in a few words..  REPRESENTATIVE!

Please hold,  your aproximate wait time is 38 minutes.

So, first guy wanted $10 more a month.  Nuh uh, go listen to the recording, better yet, can I speak to your supervisor?

This is Lea.  How can I help you?  Pete, repeat, "recorded, promised FanDuel, I ain't got FanDuel."

"Well that's $10 more a month."

Please check the recording.

Victor. You are arguing over $10?  Uh huh, that's a 15-pack of Natty Light a month.

So. Sales reps. Manager Lea.  Now, her manager, whatever his name is. MISOGYNIST! AM NOT!

Stay tuned.

Item #7 on scavenger hunt: Take a picture of a phone booth. 'Wherethehell we gonna find onea those?'

Call me, we'll catchup.

Love, Victurd