If only it was just Jazz, BBQ and Fountains.......

We, as a people, I think, have a sense of pride in our hometowns.  The little suburb of Kansas City, where I live (Liberty, MO)... is a wonderful place.. but, 'the claim to fame' in it's 250 year existence... "Home of the US's first, daylight bank robbery" (Gee thanks Jesse James)....

Our big neighbor, Kansas City,  of course is known for Jazz, BBQ, Fountains, and, sadly, too many that have heard the diagnosis "You have ALS."  The Lou Gerhig's Disease.. amyotrophic lateral sclerosis. 

40+ years ago, Tom Watson, George Brett and many others, arranged the very first charity golf tourney for their buddies who  heard that diagnosis, and fought that damned disease. (George's best friend, Keith Worthington... Tom's caddy Bruce Edwards,  and friend to both, Joe McGuff, Sport's Editor of the KC Star. It continues annually. 

A brief intro into today's Star..........

I am Sarah Nauser, living with ALS. I was born and raised in Blue Springs, a suburb of Kansas City. i began playing ball as soon as I could and throughout my childhood I grew up on the ball fields. If I wasn't playing, I was the bat girl for my older siblings' teams.

Naturally, I had to have love for my hometown team.  That love only grew as I got older. I would not miss an opening day for anything, including school. As a teenager I dreamed of becoming a police officer. I wanted to be the police officer who had the privilege  to work the Royals games while standing in the Royals dugout.

Shortly after my diagnosis, that dream came true. I worked my last shift in my police uniform in the Royals dugout.  That night I met George Brett and Salvador Perez. George promised to be by my side while I fought ALS, and he has kept his promise.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Now, some eight years later, Sarah has become one of the Royals most high profile and loyal fans, beloved by players come and gone. Royals players, her heroes, now call her their hero.

 She is a passionate voice for ALS patients who believes that life can be awesome even when it doesn't go the way we want.  Last season, the organization gifted Nauser, who breathes with the assistance from a ventilator, a custom Royals wheelchair on MLB's Lou Gehrig Day.  She got to go to Spring Training to watch this years team. Well, she's ready. More than ready.

A few days ago, she posted an emotional message to the team on Instagram, encouraging players to look up into the stands at the fans who, like her, draw strength from them.  She ended it with "love, Sarah."

 It's way more important, not to mention moving, than anything I could write here, so, thank you for your patience and continued reading.  Included in a KC Star article by Lisa Gutierrez:

"Dear Royals, A new season brings many things. A fresh start. A born again hope and a renewed fight.  I''m Sarah Nauser and for the last eight years I've been in a fight against ALS, or, as some know it, Lou Gehrig's disease.

But just like Lou said back in 1939, I might have been given a bad break, but I have an awful lot to live for.  I live for my family and friends, others in the fight against ALS, and, I live for Royals Baseball.

This organization has rallied around me and supported me in ways I never could have dreamed of.  You all have provided encouragement which has lifted my spirit, fueled my determination and reminded me that I'm never alone in this fight.

For me, what you guys go out and do every day during the season is an outlet.  It's my escape from this dreadful disease. I get to forget about ALS and just enjoy Royals baseball.

It's so much more than just a game to me and to so many Royals fans.  I tell you this because I want you to truly feel the purpose in the game you get to play.

Purpose is what fuels perseverance.  It's what carries me through my journey and will get you through slumps, injuries, setbacks and the long exhausting days of the season when the grind feels overwhelming.

I hope you take a moment to look up into the stands at all of us every game and remember this: you matter.  You are someone's inspiration. You are heroes in the eyes of children who dream of wearing that uniform one day.

You are a source of hope for people like me who find strength, joy and escape in the game you play.

Because of you i am reminded life is still beautiful, that joy is still possible and every day is worth fighting for.

You have lifted me up, given me courage and helped my fight in a battle I was once told I could not win.  But I am winning.  Each and every day. Because I am still here.

It is truly one of the greatest honors in my life to cheer for this team.  So today and every day this season, go out there and fight.

Fight like a Royal.

Love, Sarah. 

 

 

 

ET called, ain't no one answered.......

Somewhere, within 64068 lies my phone.

Victor?  Who cares?

Me.

When the 2002 Buick Century readies to roll...... there's a roll call.  Keys, check. Cigs, check. Lighter, check. Billfold, check. Phone, check. Teeth, check.

Yes, I went to the Landing to watch basketball and have a couple beers. I parked in a handicap spot 30' from where I went to sit.  Before I sat down, I realized, no phone.

A beeline, right back to car, same path, the folks prolly thought I had a foot fetish as I surveyed the floor, around their feet, all the way back to the handicap spot.  No, no and no (no phone).

Car. Nope.

Poured one beer on worry, paid tab, back to car..  "Quit lookin' at ma' feet ya geezer!"

Home. Twice, the trek between the car and the door to my apartment.  Nope.  Inside, the charger cord still plugged in, the plug in thingy dangling nekkid (no phone on it). Six paragraphs and I haven't cussed.

Damnit.

Family helped call the phone.. .spread the word. No phone.

My thoughts immediately turned to DirectTV Sales, and, some outfit that calls from a different 800# each time after I block 'em, funny talker, "From Medicare"... uh huh. They each call me almost every day. We're BVF's (Best Vendors Forever).

So, with my gambling addiction (Bite me, I'm still a little bit ahead since it became legal in Missouri 12/1/2025) I reached 'into the air' to place a bet on Duke, by now 19 points ahead of UConn.  If ya know ya know, ahm, glad, no phone.

Prior to going to slumber, I Googled my old buddy Spectrum (love/hate relationship) to see how much a new (cheap, scroll to 2002 Buick) phone will set me back. I found "$500 off" this one, $700 off that one, this one, $16.99/month for 36 months.. Damnit Jim (Spectrum), simple question, cheap phone, how much?  Never found it.  Eh, I'll check WalMart.com later. 

So, I went to bed, nekkid.

No, not what you're thinking. Nekkid = no phone with me. Usually, me and my BGF (No, not Beverly Gladys French.. .my Best Gaming Friend Sudoku have a couple mad, passionate games before my eyeballs finally cave in.

Did you check WalMart?  Was gonna, forgot, didn't have phone. 

All them dayum numbers. We ain't gots phone books no more in spite of what Steve Martin says...  headache.  Worry.

What if work calls? What if my buddies call?  Monday is a golf day.

Slumber, interspersed with 'pee, wonder what time it is'...  and later,  'pee, wonder what time it is'.... followed by 'pee, wonder what time it is'.

Finally went to living room, computer, looked.  2:20am. Eh, close enough.. I think that's five hours sleep.  Coffee.. Did Wordle, no idea how to transfer results from computer to Facebook, I always do so with my phone, so, just know I got a 2.

OK, 5 damnit. 

On to Daily Sudoku, thank goodness, I was gettin' the shakes.. . Did that, on to The Kansas City Star. Basically the Star told me "Go back to bed geezer, we don't publish Monday's paper until 3am." 

So, watched ABC's World News Now.. .absolutely nothing to do with the two very stunning female anchors.   Finally, 3am, Monday's paper.

YAY! GARY WON THE GOLF TOURNEY!  You'da had to have been here yesterday, but, that's a very good thing.

Next article, "Where has Carlos Estevez's fastball gone to?"  Carlos is the KC Royal's closer who was mostly 'nails' last year.. allofasudden the velocity drop on his fastball kinda resembles the effect TDS has had on whatshisname's approval rating.  i ain't got time, want, nor need to worry about either.

Golf reminded me. OH CRAP, all them numbers... in my phone. This will be year four I've put on a Townie Invitational Golf Tourney for fun, and, to raise funds for Liberty's Shop With A Cop.  It's grown every year and last year we had 50 guys play! The tourney is July 21, but, I need to start planning, getting word out........... but.........

Them fitty phone numbers, gone, all they are is dust in the wind.. or, in a ditch somewhere between here and the Landing. No ID where it is.

Which, brings us to now........ 4:27am, Monday, March something.. oh, the 30th.. I looked for my phone to double check.. forgot.  Saw date on computer. No, not Beverly Gladys French.

So........... thought turned to.......... do I do a stupid blog about losing my phone?

 Victor, people are getting real real real tired of your me, me, me blogs. Bad idea, don't.

Oops. Sorry.

Love, Victurd 

 

1,000 pounds......

Tecumseh, KS, 2002.  Gary Woodland graduated from High School and went to play basketball on a scholarship at nearby Washburn University.  He very much missed his first love, golf, thus, transferred his sophomore year to The University of Kansas.

The rest is......... well, life.  Always goes like we plan doesn't it?  Some, not quite all. 

Whilst proudly emblazoned in shirts bearing the Jayhawk logo, he won four tournaments...  enough good, that he turned pro on 2007.  The World of professional golf is so ultra competitive, and Gary learned same as he played and struggled a tad in a handful of tournaments on the then Nationwide Tour for a couple years.. 

In 2008, he went to 'Q School' in attempt to qualify for the big guy Tour, tied for 11th. good enough to earn a card to the PGA tour...  Struggle was becoming a common theme.. .he missed ten of eighteen cuts before a shoulder injury cut his year short.

Back to Q School in 2010, once again, tied for 11th, here's your PGA card sir. Ahhh, finally, victory in 2011.  The ladder of golf found him ranked #962 in the World in '09, #561 in 2010, and yippee, #53 in 2011, which, included a nifty tour playing in The Masters.

He basically, made it.  Pro golf into his 30's found him consistently making cuts... winning a few tournaments, and jualah, Pebble Beach, 2019, yes, that Pebble Beach, THE US OPEN CHAMP!

So........... you know how life rolls... struggle, struggle, struggle, success, and, then ya coast, right?

Ahm, no.  Maybe for the very few, but there's always struggle within.

August of 2023 found Gary announcing he'd been diagnosed with a brain lesion, and he underwent a lengthy surgery the following month. The struggles of college golf, the Nationwide Tour, a rookie on the Big Tour, all paled in comparison to this.

He continued to meet every challenge.  Four months after surgery, he returned to the Tour where he battled the physical, mental and emotional effects of his condition - where, in 2025, his peers awarded him the PGA Tour Courage Award.

Struggle done?  Not so fast.  

Napa, California, The FedEx Cup Tourney. “I was hypervigilant,” Woodland said, calling out a common trait associated with PTSD. “A walking scorer startled me, got close to me from behind. I pulled my caddie and said, ‘You can’t let anybody get behind me.’ Next thing you know, I couldn’t remember what I was doing. My eyesight started to get blurry.”

It was his turn to hit, and he couldn't. His caddie said "Let's go in." He wouldn't. "No man, I'm here for these guys. I want to finish."  He finished but the emotion toll followed. "I went into every bathoom to cry the rest of the day. I got in my car and got out of there. There are days when it's tough and I'm in the scoring trailer crying, running to my car just to hide it.

He announced in a soon to follow interview he was diagnosed with PTSD. "I don't want to live that way any more.  Opening up, I feel like I've gotten 1,000 pounds off my back.  This has been harder on my family and my team because they just want to help, make it go away, and that's not how this battle goes - but, their love and support is what's gotten me through it. I didn't have to hide it, I could be myself."

 Geez Louise. He gets knocked down, but he gets up again.

And........

Don't look now.........  there's a guy teeing off in the PGA Houston Open in Texas this morning leading by one stroke with 18 holes to play.  Oh, he's 41, that's not supposed to happen. He's had all the life struggles we have, plus. Oh, he had brain surgery.  And btw, just announced his PTSD diagnosis.  Yep, it's Gary Woodland.  Quite a remarkable man.

GO GARY! 

When he was awarded the PGA Courage Award, he pointed the $25,000 winnings to Champion Charities, which conducts research and supports patients with brain tumors, trauma or disease.  Then, he and wife Gabby matched it. That's Gary (and Gabby).

PTSD is a size shoe most of us can't simply fit, see out of, or, understand but we sure as heck can say God Bless to you all who are forced to deal, live with it. Truly. You are amazing.

 

Storage Wars.... 3, 2, 1.. . Thanks for the memories

 -I ain't sure Victurd has used deodorant recently... from the looks'a that title, whatever he's got up his sleeve probably stinks.

Haha.

In my lifetime, I think I have watched 5, maybe 10 minutes of Storage Wars.  Apparently, the show first aired in 2010... there've been like five spinoffs... when I Wiki'ed it, Holy guacamole, I had no ID (that's how we Ozark hillbillies say that) the popularity of the show.  The premiere show of the 2nd season totaled 5.1 million viewers, making it then A&E's most watched show, ever. No wonder there's more things on TV to watch than the sports I'd imagined "doesn't everyone watch sports?"

Wiki even listed over 30 'characters' viewers have come to know, love, hate, up close.  Bidding fueds.  Father son combos, hubby wife combos that breakup, end up bidding agin' one another.  Cutthroat, so to speak.

I ain't gonna replay the show because, again, I've watched ten minutes of it.  I guess Cali has a law (and probably many States similar) that after payment is 36 days in arrears, the storage owner can have an auction to git ridda the stuff so that he/she may again rent it out.  Bidders get five minutes to look, but don't touch (or enter, then bid.

Notable finds on the show........... junk, junk, junk, junk, huge comic book collection, junk, fridge, junk, AC, three drawings by Pablo Picasso, clothes, junk, a letter written by Abraham Lincoln, junk, table, chairs, a human corpse wrapped in plastic, junk, freezer, junk, ladder, Paris Hlton's stuff, junk, TV, Return of the Jedi Jacket.. you know, your normal stuff.

Digging into storage in general.. we learn (or I learned) storage units average cost ranges from $40 a month to $250 and of course, dependent on size, location, temperature controlled, yada.

 One can assume there are many sad song stories. Regular storage, not the show, we done talking about that! Like say, an elderly widowed person moves from home to a nursing home ("Don't sell ma' stuff, sentimental value in addition to regular value"_.. so.. in seven or eight years time, the queen bed, dining table, chairs, old style TV, candlesticks, trinkets, yada, accrue $24,000 or so running costs. Aye yai yai. (I wanna go back, have a redo, change my 'when I grow up I wanna", change ir from baseball player to storage unit place owner... geez, and, little to no labor costs).. 

Victor, pick it up, dragging a bit. A quick self storage glance elsewhere talked about, a chop shop, people living in them, a Walter White-like Meth lab, a cat in a kennel from a divorce argument, eww, a guy in a freezer who had been murdered by his ex gf's son, and, grandma in her coffin 17 years after dying.  Eww, eww, enough Victor, I agree.

So, what's the 3, 2, 1..Thanks for the memories crap? 

I'm so glad you asked, thanks. I think we all love people.  I think we all love history. I think we, in general, don't do a very good job in 'storage', remembering those that came before us.  Thanks to relatives, yes, ancestry studies help, but like me, personally, haven't done a great job preserving things, stories, events, etc, from my son, sister, parents, grandparents, great grandparents, etc.

We need more 'keep 'em alive' kinda things. Journals. Interviews NOW, whilst still here, pictures, pictures, pictures, videos, etc.

Some very basic suggestions from Google on pics:

The best way to store pictures for the future is to use the3-2-1 rule:

 keep 3 copies of any important photo, on 2 different media types (e.g., cloud + hard drive), with 1 copy stored off-site. Utilize high-capacity external SSDs for fast, reliable storage and cloud services like Amazon Photos, Google Photos, or iCloud for automated, accessible, and secure backups.

I suck at stuff like that, but if helps you.. I'll feel better. How wonderful would it be to sit with a grandparent, learn about their parents... or even, sit with our folks, talk about nothing but their childhood.  Too late for most of us, mebbe those behind us can do a bang up job into the future.

We the people, concentrate on stuff.  It's just stuff. We the people needta concentrate on people.

Right Barbara?

Love, Victurd 

Repeat after me...........

No, that's not really it.

 

I have noticed, in life, like in writing.... we have likes, dislikes, near addictions to some things, distaste for others.  And, all'a that could even occur within a family, a friendship, an age, yada, and sure, even within a blog.

 

Same ole same ole thing rears its (I never said ugly) head.  Diversity.  And.. that's the way uh huh uh huh, we seem to like it. 

 

I'm excited  about the Royals opening the season today, you? I don't care.

 

OK. Then howabout The Sweet Sixteen?  SURELY, outta sixteen teams there's gotta be one geographically you like, maybe had aunt, uncle, cousin, sib, grand that went there? Howabout cool uni's?  Are you a traditional type, or, quicker to like the flashy new neon colors?   I'm sorry I'm not sorry, but... I will probably still be catching up on Yellowstone.

 

I give up. NO DON'T, variety is the spice of life. 

 

Victor?  How'd you get here?  Well, I was born in St. Louie, moved a ton when I was little...  St. Charles, Denver, Colorado Springs, Jeff City, then finally Liberty..  NO, I mean, how'd you get HERE?  Your little diversity, variety thingy.

 

I blame it on Mick.  Mick?  Uh huh, Jagger. And whatshisname, the old guy they give grief to. I woke up.. ALL these Rolling Stone songs were going thru my brain.......... Satisfaction..  Honky Tonk Women.... Gimme shelter... Paint it black..., Sympathy for the devil...... AND.. I thought I'd do another stupid, yet hopefully 'catchy' blogs using titles from their songs.................

 

So........................  I Wiki'ed 'em.

 

Learned Mick and whatshisname actually lived close, met, in THE EARLY 19Fitties...  GOOD GOSH that's a long time.  Interesting to me, yet, mebbe no Royals, no sweet 16, no this, no that, hey hey you you get offa that cloud, ya know?

 

So....... I asked Google or AI or whoeverinthehell it is when you shoot a question to the internet........ Things that were prevalent then that are still prevalent today so mebbe, just mebbe, we'd have common ground, likes.

 

AND?

 

Well, the first thing that popped up was "Political Activism and Protest" so I'm gonna do a long dissertation on my take........... just kidding but it is ironic to me that the essential question "Are we there yet are we there yet?" can be answered yes, and we always (almost always) have been.

 

And, tis mentioned civil rights protests, women's lib, human rights, social justice, environmental concerns.  The more we change, the more we stay the same it seems.

 

Jeans and casual fashion.  Denim does it.  Back then we's kinda embarrassed by patches on our knees, hells bells, now, Distressed is like the new Grease is the word. 

 

If you're a Craigslist or a Facebook Swap and Shop addict like me (I'M NOT... ok, I get it, that diversity crap again) you'll notice Retro furniture, interior design trends, Fitty-Sixty-ish (again.)

 

Then (fast foods, Oreos, Pop Tarts, gelatin salads) and now.  Howabout stuffed appetizers and fun foods.... sure, many are lazy like me and ask the Piggly lady "Gimme one'a those already made up charcuterie things", but, many are creative, just like they usedta be.

 

Sure, much has changed...... JUNIOR PUT YOUR SEATBELT ON..  Honey, I'm out, gimme one'a your Pall Malls..  Would you like the smoking or non smoking section on the plane? Fill er up, leaded.. .Red dye # whatever it was...  clackers...  jungle gyms..  garden hose sips...  I AIN'T PAYIN FOR NO DAMN BOTTLED WATER..  

 

Remember when country roads really didn't have no speed limits?  Tricky Dick changed that..   Tommy, meet me at Schmitty's..we're gonna see how close we can get to the skeeter fog truck!  Mercury was onea the first spaceships, but remember when everyone freaked when a thermometer broke?

 

It's all enough to giveya your 19th nervous breakdown. 

 

I guess the point is, it's really hard to write about something we all agree with. (To which you're supposed to shake your head and say "uh huh, we agree Victor.")

 

Victor? Uh huh? They left 8 paragraphs ago. THE BASTA'S!!! ER, I mean, OK. I'll try harder tomorrow! 

 

You can't always get what you want.........but if you try sometimes, you get, just what you need.. .

 

Like, a nap.  Just as prevalent today today as it was in 19Fitty Something when Mick and Keith played cricket in Dartford, Kent.

 

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz,

 

Love, Victurd 

 

If I were a niche man......

How's your day?....  I'm biased........  Me thinks this is a really, really fine time of year.

 We here in the Midwest.. and, friends, loved ones in the Upper halfa the US, it's the time of year where ya ain't gotta stand by the front door... open it pensively, asking, "Is it safe? Am I free from frostbite? Do I gotta spend fitty minutes scraping the snow, ice offa the ole' Buick?

Victor... we live in (Houston, Florida, SoCal, Mehico) we ain't gotta worry about all that, all the time. Well goodie for you...I will try not to cuss too loud or, send, not-so-kind hand signals in Nov-Feb...... 

Baseball Ray.."Play Ball" abounds.. Boys, girls alike, dig the glove outta the box in the garage - go have 'a game of catch', what better? Victor, I'm not really a fan, boring game.

Eh, ok.  But... it's still "BASKETBALL JONES" (March Madness.) Bragging rights, making fun of, wearing duds representing one's favorite team.  Victor, not much into basketball either.... Victor?...  Victor?...  ALVIN??

OK!!!  Still, I kinda think, universally, cause for pep in ones step, smiles ahead...even if yain't into The Mick, or, Kareem, there's gardening, indoor plants, 'feeshin', people wear less, I'M FREE, smiles ain't covered up by masks, thus, more frequent.

You mighta caught the word NICHE up there. My brain, upon awakening, worked (that's always a good thing) but, it also went back to 19fitty-something, sixty-something... and "What do I wanna be when I grow up" (for me there was but one answer.. Baseball Ray.)

Very well aware, the playing field is broader than that. I consulted my buddy AI and learned we twerps dreamed of being Doctors, Teachers, musicians, scientists, athletes... and, the "I wanna's" were painted by events of the times...  "Cowboys" on TV, and, the Great Space Race that took over the US (I remember having stickers allover my notebook, drawing pics of spacecrafts... ) so, Astronaut was anudder answer.

Sure........ then the brain goes to today.. whadda snotnoses of the day wanna be?  To my surprise, alotta the same stuff on the list.. teachers, doctors, lawyers, athletes, musicians...and additionally, painted by the day, "YouTuber", "Streamer", "Video Game Designer", yada.

 It's been mentioned (repeatedly) I ain't one to give advice on:  relationships, smoking cessation, Dave Ramsey-like tip$, and, employment.

It's also been mentioned, I gotta big mouth (keyboard), I kinda hear "Victor don't" which, of course is followed by "watch me."

Do as I say, not as I do.  I'd find something I enjoy the heck out of. Your niche. Your like.  You ain't bad at it. Sure, remuneration matters (to most, not as much to some)...

Tunnel.  Huh?  Uh huh, as in 'light at the end"...  a plan (to which Victor might say "what's that?")... knowing all the goodies about SS at age 62, 65, 70, whadever the age is today...  HEALTHCARE, ifn's u fortunate enough to get the hell outta Dodge before Medicare kicks in. (Scroll to Dave Ramsey, or, Edward D Jones, somebody, all that crap is foreign to me)...

So.. the thought of "Get in, get out" lends to it (work) ain't, can't be fun. Not so.  Enjoyable has a place in there, and anyone can for sure have that. Some, never wanna quit. Some, continue to work part-time in retirement, like maybe, working a couple days a week at a golf course so you can play golf for free and hit golf balls into the trees.

I could be a nightmare for managers, I admit. (Not a fan of bulldozers, over-the-shoulder-lookers, rude, arrogant, ok, I'll stop but there's more!) But too, I tried to do good work.  No matta' what  you choose... flippin' burgs, selling insurance, training, teaching, yada... make it a goal to help, and a goal to hear compliments along the way.  We all, I think, like compliments.  And, when you're Johnny Paycheck done, I am sure you too distinctly remember the compliments from above, from coworkers, customers, yada. That's a niche as well.

Are you done Joel Olsteen?  No, sorry, ain't. Be that person that wings comps too... that's dang near as gooda feel good.  Sure, it's gotta be genuine.. but man.. do compliments help unruffle the hustle bustle of a working career.

Now I'm done. 

Your welcome.

Ahm, Victor?  Uh huh?  That's you're welcome. Eh I dunno. Mr. Miagi always said "welcome", so, me thinks 'your welcome' works too.

Hey, btw, what tips, guidance, suggestion would you give to a friend or loved one entering the world of work today?

If I were a niche man, ya ba dibba dibba dibba dibba dibba dibba dum..

Love, Victurd
 

 

 

Anybody here.... seen my old friend......... Elsie?

Elsie, the cow?  Uh huh, subject today, until the cows come home.  Victor? You mean kinda like 'when pigs fly'?  No, that's impossible... unless Smithfield comes up with some heavy duty drone contraption to snatch Ms. Piggy from the trough and fetch her to the slaughter house.

 

Cows, under no time constraints, I guess eventually do come home. Until the cows come home is an idiom, meaning for a very long, indefinite, or nearly endless amount of time...

 

You know, like a good ole political argument, you can argue with him until the cows come home, but he'll never admit he's wrong.  Healthy, underemployed 20-somethings, sit in mom, dad's basement and play Roblox and Minecraft until the cows come home.

 

A day in the cow's life cud include....... 12-14 hours lying down. Ya gotta beef about that?  3-5 hours eating roughly a hunnerd pounds of food, 7 - 10 hours ruminating... 30 minutes drinking up to 60 gallons of water....  and, don't forget - they socialize too... yeah, MyPasture.com. Good gosh Victor, next thing ya know  you'll be giving us pee and poop stats.

 

3.5 gallons a day, and around 65 pounds of manure a day.  There is a LOT to do, until the cows come home.

 

So........ Victor?  Uh huh? Is there a point to all this? Is there an antonym to 'until the cows come home'?

 

YES!  My ex girlfriend.  VICTOR YOU ARE SOOOOOO TOAST!  I'm telling her...  comparing her to a cow..........    NO!!!! WAIT!!!

 

I was comparing until the cows come home (indefinate, very slow, a long time) to SOMEONE YOU CAN HARDLY KEEP UP WITH.  Twas, is, a compliment - not to mention, she's beautiful, so, THERE!

 

We'd be in the A Terminal at an airport...she's marching at gate 33, whilst, I'm just passing gate 5 on my way to 6...  eventually, I got to 33 and hells bells she was already in B Terminal.  I tried, but I couldn't do it.

 

So are you talking like Type A personality?  Eh, I dunno about that, just, no wasted effort.  A purpose to everything.  Busy, but not frantic.  On edge for accomplishment, but not stressy.  Always kinda thinking "what can I do next."  (I was the Uncle Joe, movin' kinda slow, at the Junction, Pettycoat Junction.)

 

She's quite impressive, really.  So when I use the 'which way did she go', I kinda sorta mean it!

 

I am addicted to psychology, and types.  Until the cows come home, like me, Uncle Joe, Maynard G. Crebs, with maybe a touch of Otis thrown in.

 

And them there ones you stand back (I prolly would sit down) and admire, WOW... you know like my ex gf... Lady Gaga (songwriter, singer, producer, actress). Jamie Foxx.. actor, musician, stand-up artist.. J Lo, Clint Eastwood,  Steve Martin, Ms. 9 to 5 herself...  busy, they's busy. 

 

Just two different types, and, room in life, on the farm, acreage, for both types.

 

One, ya sit back and observe, admire... and go "Wowzer"......

 

And the other type... they don't Dilly Dilly...  they Dilly Dally.. "You need a purpose!  Hey! Wait!  I done organized cow patty bingo, then, we're gonna have a herd mentality board game... all topped of by cow patty toss for distance, accuracy, yes........ all, on purpose.  Then, after, we may all sit around and have a few Spotted Cows.

 

There's no real wrong or right types in life........... just different. 

 

Victor?

 

Uh huh?

 

You're really different.

 

Bite me.

 

Love, Victurd 

ET homophone.....

Xplain Lucy.

 

Victor, you're old, but, some'a them may have ZERO idea whointhehell Ricky Ricardo is.

 

Ok then, I'll explain.

 

War time, 1943.  Milton Drake's young daughter Barbara, came home, and sang "Cowzywheet and sowsywheet and liddlsharks edoysters... or something like that.

 

It was wartime.  A horrible time.  A wonderful time, in that, UNITED, meant just that. Gents marching off, Rosey's riviting, everyone pitched in.

 

Levity, nonsense was needed, very badly.  Drake + two then wrote, Mairzy Doats. As in, Mairzy doats and dozy doats and liddle lamzy divey.. a kiddley divey too, wouldn't you?

 

They continued, "If the words sound queer, and funny to your ear, a littlle bit jumbled and jivey, Sing, "Mares eat oats and does eat oats and little lambs eat ivy. A kiddley divey too, wouldn't you?"

 

ET phoned home, but, Mairzy doats is a homophone,  a word that sounds like another but has a different meaning, origin or spelling.

 

Which, brings us to Lucy, Ricky, Rorschach tests, and life.

 

Victor, you might include lunatics, as I think you are just that.

 

OK, Lucy, Ricky, Rorschach tests, life, and lunatics.  I watched a little bit of a youtube Rorschach test and it was pretty interesting.  Wiki says (do I needta Snopes wiki?) they actually still use Rorschach (you know, the ink blot test where folks tell a shrink what he/she says, then they 'figure 'em out.  Supposedly.  

 

Victor, nowadays, not only do you gotta check the accuracy, validity of Wiki, but, ya also might do the same with Snopes.  Ahhhhhhhhhhhh, thanks, you just helped make my point.

 

We see, hear things, differently.  Bing Crosby on a USO Tour singing Mairzy Doats may be just what the doctor ordered for some, but too, there's the feller(s) that might respond, "Please leave me alone just to be able to sit here, grab a smoke from the pack'a Lucky's tucked up in my TShirt sleeve."

 

Diversity.  HUGE. Life.  Take a pack'a family members out in a Pontoon, have 'em look at the clouds... "Whadda ya see?"  The answers, diversity, is amazing.  Arrange a buncha folks on a site like, say, Facebook... ask 'em about the Iowa Hawkeyes, Missouri Tigers, KU Jayhawks, Donald Trump, Bernie Sanders, Eminem, Billy Graham, Howard Stern, Beyonce, Lionel Richie, sisk, boom, ba.

 

Damnit Victor, gimme levity, sing Mairzy Doats again.  Right?

 

Things, things that make one person smile....happy (puppies, raindrops on roses, rainbows, all inclusive Cabo condos... might bring the Big Air brake of the train (or, the Jake Brake of a semi, thanks Terry) to others......... as in, NO, leave me alone.. cabin in the woods, a good book (or two), my 22 rifle for target practice, and no other people,  

 

We hear athletes all the time, say, "I just figured out, I'll never figure it out."  THAT, be life.

 

I see two dragons. (I'm thinkin' paranoia, you?)  LOOK!  A kitty cat!  (NOT management material.)  I see a bat, with blood runnin' down his mouth. (Charlie, did you lock the door? Can we outrun this basta?)

 

Differnt. Homophone. Lucy, Ricky, turn the channel, I'd rather watch The Honeymooners. Still lookin' for that blue jean baby queen, prettiest girl I ever seen.. see her shake on the movie screen... Jimmy Dean (James Dean.)

 

And where do we go from here?  Which is the way that's clear?

 

Exactly, we're a chocolate mess...  our ducks are all in a row..   TDS... Bernie's crazy..  Mairzy Doats because they taste great, LESS FILLING.  

 

Let's go to the movie... pizza shop... Bar Mitzvah...  Winslow Arizona...  Tattoo Convention.. Grand Canyon..   Four dead guys in granite...   The County lake is fine by me.  We agree to disagree, or not, and we do it again, s'more.. no we don't..  yes we do...You're an idiot..  Takes one to call one.

 

OH BABY WHADDA PLAY! When will this game be over, I'm gonna miss American Idol.

 

I LOVE ME SOME LIFE.

 

And you.

 

Love, Victurd. 

I need one'a them semi runoff thingys.......

You seen 'em, I've seen 'em.. Terry lives by 'em.

 

Huh?  Yain't?  The hills (mountains) are alive (steep, very) with the sound of music (usually them truckers listen to Hank Williams I think... but the other sound(s) are jake brakes... I-70 for example, thru the Rockies.. After the ascent, ya got the descent... the brakes can get too hot, fail, most/some of the above......... so..............

 

On the right side'a the Interstate, there's an emergency ramp built specially to stop (my little) runaway trucks (a run run run run, runaway.)  They got like an uphill ramp, filled with like 36' deep of gravel.. You stop. You no go, anymore.  Then say whew.

 

That's how I feel. I was gonna do the Hooked On A Feeling lyrics (no, not BJ Thomas, the Björn Skifs and Blue Swede version with the Ooga-Chaka Ooga-Ooga Ooga-Chaka Ooga-Ooga Ooga-Chaka Ooga-Ooga Ooga-Chaka Ooga-Ooga because I REALLY enjoy that... 

 

It's a love song... I was gonna do the lyrics, then, equate it to life as it goes by... this stage, that stage.. the golden, or back nine stage... then, the book/movie Death of a Salesman entered my mind, cause who am I kidding, I ain't been married in a long time.

 

So........ as I creeped up Vail Pass (in ma' brain)... my thoughts turned to happiness... because holy guacamole, I dunno if you've looked out, but, it's kinda turbulent out there....the thought was........ How do you measure pleasure......  simple (I thought) question. I would think pleasure, happiness, is a goal of us all.

 

Katy bar the door.  Then locked it, thru away the key, my goodness... the first thing that popped up was The Hedonic Calculus (Bentham)...  that's like a hunnerd times more (X-rated) "Close ur eyes and ur ears Sonny" than Professor Harold Hill's "Oh we got trouble" about kids and a cue ball.

 

Next. No run off to be seen, brakes ain't squeekin', making noise.

 

So, my brain turned to the song "My boomerang won't come back" cause I dunno about you, but, sometimes in life everything don't go exactly as it's supposed to. Katy barred that door too. The BBC wouldn't play the song, demeaning, racially motivated... geez Louise.. that's hella worse than real life where a simple Titliest won't come back, or, at least lemme find it.

 

No Del Shannon, no Runaway (or,  Runoff) yet.  While we're still kinda on the Boomerang subject, I thought "Weird", the producer if the 1961 song was a dude named George Martin (he even played the piano and keyboards in the song) ya mighta heard of him because he was extensively involved in the Beatles original albums, and yes, commonly referred to as "the 5th Beatle".

 

So, I'm standin' on the corner in Winslow Arizona............no, wait, that ain't it.

 

Remember Victurd? You're in Colorado.  OH YEAH, thanks!  Driving a semi... I have NO IDEA how to shift gears... no idea what/where the Jake brake is... even moreso, why they don't call it a Jill brake, I'd listen to her! (No misogynist comments about how loud, nope, I didn't)

 

So, I keep on truckin'.  Turn off Hank (a little goes a long ways), found my John Denver tape... "Almost Heaven, West Virginia"..  Victor, you're in Colorado.......... ah hell, mountains is mountains...  the beauty of the pines, firs, spruces and, ah, the aspens...   

 

Such beauty, makes ya forget life's woes, boomerangs that won't come back.. 'which way did she go' ladies that run-off.. scratchin' on the eight ball...... so, it's that beauty, pleasure of it all, which is exactly the intent of this blog.  right Jake?   Jake?

 

JAKE? Oh hell. I shoulda put in Del Shannon. My little runaway, a run, run, run, run, runaway...........faster and faster (sweat, blood pressure, no idea what pedal to press, which handle does what - kinda like life sometime)..and faster and faster, and finally, see  a runoff... more smoke, noise, CRUNCCHNNNN.. which, seemed to take fitty heartbeats.... there I was.

 

Ah, "Breaker 1 9?"  They still do that? ........ apparently not... John Denver still goin in the background... disc almost done. FINALLY, a Smokey. A BEAR?  No, the CSP.  "Hi Officer!"  You're stuck.  Yessir, I am.  Well.. there's a tow outfit in Eagle but he don't work Mondays.. I can get him up here tomorrow, round noonish.  Thank you sir.  There's worse places to be stuck.

 

Thought about playing me some Ooga-Chaka Ooga-Ooga Ooga-Chaka,,, nah.. the Beatles? No thanks. My Boomerang? STOP.  Del Shannon, shut your mouth. AC DC? Nah, my nerves are shot. Ah, here.. this one........ yep., Elton. 

 

So, I'm not sure what all that was, is.  Kinda like life.  Up, down, happy, sad. Sometimes lost, no GPS.  Sometimes no brakes (I warned ya!  Shoulda listened! Like I said...)

 

A little diddy, about (life, and) Jake...  brakes. 

 

Love, Victurd 

 

 

  

Aye yai yai

 WORDLE

Ifs ands or buts

 It's only words, and words are all I have, to take your heart away.

 

That's all well and good there Barry Gibb but what-the-hey does it have to do with ifs, ands and buts?

 

Jane, you igno.......... ahm, just that. Words are all I got to work with.

 

No ifs ands or buts.  YES, ifs ands or buts because without em, I wouldn't have a blog today.  You will not hurt my feelings IF you no likey, go right ahead and exit stage left, AND, don't let the door hitya in the BUT(T).

 

IF I could turn back time, me and Cher would look 30. Victor, she does. Bite me. If I were a rich man, I'd butcher it.  If I had a hammer, I'd bend a helluva lotta nails, but, .mebbe I'd be a better shuffleboard player. 

 

If you leave me now.. I'd be OK. Cinnamon Toast Crunch, sliced bananas, milk, mo' coffee, cigs, finish blog, then, Basketball Jones. 

 

AND. Peace and quiet, pick and choose, knife and fork, pros and cons, salt and pepper, give and take, life and death, rough and tumble....  Bonnie and Clyde, Batman and Robin, Romeo and Juliet, Delaney and Bonnie, Meghan and Harry, Travis and Taylor, Ellen and Portia, John and Yoko.

 

BUT...  yeah but... last but not least.. Chip Wilson..  close but no cigar..  slow but sure.. (My grandpa would fetch us across town to our Aunt's house, bouta mile and a half.. granny, in front seat, monitoring speed. 25mph zone.. he'd get up to 27, sometimes 28, "MAN!!! MAN!!  YOU'RE GONNA KILL THESE CHILDREN!".. not about but, but, thought I'd include). .everything but the kitchen sink..  the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth..  Chip Wilson..  

 

BUT the dog ate my homework.. I'll gladly pay you Tuesday.. .Chip Wilson.. I haveta sleep in your bed mom, dad, there's monsters in mine.. but I haven't missed a day of school this week, and, I've got an itchy itchy rash.. I cannot help but wonder... but he is nothing but a fool...   Chip Wilson.. I am but a common man.. (Drive a common van, but, my dog is a Miniature Schnauzer.) 

 

If ifs and buts were candy and nuts, we'd all have a Merry Christmas.   If frogs had wings they wouldn't bump their butts.  

 

Life, me thinks, is all about ifs ands or buts.  Woulda coulda shoulda. Right Chip?

 

VICTOR?  Huh?  Whothehell is Chip.. Chip Wilson?

 

Duh. He invented yoga pants in 1998.

 

IF I wouldn't have clicked this damn link, AND chosen to do something else, I'd have three more minutes of my life to do something worthwhile, you BUTThead Victor.

 

Ifs ands or buts.  Three things tell the truth.. Small children, drunk people, and yoga pants.  

 

Sorry, kinda.. Love, Victurd

Now what?

OK, that's it, life in a nutshell.............  The end.

 

Kidding, kinda.  Whenya thinka 'Now what?', er, at least, when I thinka 'Now what?' it's usually accompanied by a furrowed eyebrow, frustration, exasperation (Victor, ain't they the same thing?) such as, the same annoying question after question, like, maybe someone who continually sneaks into your blog... or, a little kid, said lovingly, tugging your shirt, followed by "Mom?" Ain't it the moms that garner mosta the questions? "Go blow your nose and get ready for dinner."

 

An annoying coworker. Or, perhaps, someone that stumbles by here pretty frequently and observes "Wow, what's eatin' him (again) today?"

 

Really - nothing, honest.  Sure., sure... "Now what" reminds us of caller ID, extended warranties, endless old people junk mail (hearing aid ads, funeral planning, that crap).. Car trouble, checkenginelights, money, "Honey? Piggly declined my card again... the hell you been buying?"

 

But.................. you can't begin a sentence with 'But.' To that I say 'then whyinthehell do they allow you to CAPITALIZE B?  Huh huh huh?

 

But......... Now what is a thing of beauty along the way.

 

Baby born. Baby don't do much. Blankie on floor. "Stay Rover". They do, for quite awhile. Then, ruh roh. The hell'd he go?  Hershal? You seen Junior?  I tease, some.

 

Walking for the first time is "Now what?", with excitement, smile, hurry, why - we dunno, but hurry.  Fall, tears, s'more now what.

 

Yellow bus.  Backpack. New duds. The Barnyard bus.  Twerp hops on.....WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE? NOW WHAT?  Oh honey, lemme tellya, it's a lifetime thing figuring out folks.  Just whenya think you gotta handle on 'em, tney fool ya, so, of course you ask "Now what?" 

 

Tee ball.  After six swings whereya knock the tee over 3 times, the bat slips outta your hands twice, you accidentally hit the catcher "sorry!".. you hit it.  Mom, dad, gramma, grampa, the Coach, your big brother command RUN!  So, ya do. To third base. NO!!! NO!!! NO!!! "TO FIRST" (where the heck is that?") Coaches pointing redfacedly getya there.. "Now what?".. we learn.

 

We go from duck, duck, goose.. to TeeBall.. to Red Rover Red Rover... to kickball, getting cooties from being on the same team as Earl.. to middle school. to Junior high.. to....."WAIT? What the heck was that feeling?"  NOW WHAT?  I HATE GIRLS? How come allofasudden I wanna grab one and kiss one? Protude. DON'T ASK ME WHY, it' just happens.  To boys and girls.

 

Fast forward.  16. Vroom vroom. "Honey, I'm going to Piggly to get us a couple steaks for Saturday night."  "NO, no you're not. Cousin Eddie, our 'discounted' insurance agent, just sent the bill for Susie's car... you're going to Wally World, fried chicken is on sale."

 

18. "But, I DON'T WANNA go to Junior College... all my friends are going to State U' to join frats (or sororities), it's only a 3 hour longer drive. I know Juco is cheap, but State is only $14,895 a semester."  Ahm, honey, swing by the Dollar Tree and get a thinga bologna would ya?

 

21.  Wings. We fly. We be big people. NOW WHAT?  I just worked yesterday. I gotta go again today?  Dad, can I borrow fitty? My gf wanted lasagna, I spent my last forty on that.  The car's on "E" too, but, it's all good, I can just sleep here tonight."NO WAIT, here ya go."

 

Love and marriage.  The saying, back in the Father Knows Best era, was, "Marriage is the most expensive way to get your laundry done free."  Well, then them ladies, back in '66, had the NOW Movement... (before you shoot me, I agree with it!).. so........... after Herbert washes, dries, folds, puts away the clothes, he addresses Ms. Fitty-One Percent of the Stock with, "Now what Honey?" Has nothing to do with those little protrusions that started happenin' back in Junior High. OK, maybe a tad.

 

So, ya have kids.  They move from the blanket to Tee ball. You Tase 'em if they run the wrong way. JK. Yellow bus, Big Chief. Ya buy a beater, liability only. ACT scores, tassles and hassles. "You're taking online courses, Junior College is WAY too expensive." All your lives you've teased them.. and you continue after you hang the lights, put up the tree.. "We wish you weren't here at Christmas.. we wish you weren't here at Christmas."

 

They fly.  "Honey, let's start our Social Security at 62, have a great retirement.  Our IRA is doing perty darn good."  OK.  So, you buy a lake house, take out a Second, boat, big one.. New F One Fitty to pull it.  Work until 70.

 

Now what?  Wanna fool around?  No..  Let's go see my brother and his wife. No.  Let's go look at ranch homes, particularly those ones with maintenance included.  We sold the lake house.  We'll sell the Pontoon. (It's got one step. Everything with steps, "Nope")

 

Honey?  We got all this stuff in the garage. Now what?

 

20 Cube dumpster. Freecycle. Yard sale. "I don't care if it's NOT a flatscreen, my beautiful grandson can play video games on it, get it outta here."

 

Each, every 'now what' turn in life is fulla wonder. Good, bad, ugly.  Let's change that to good, great, ugly, cause mosta life is yummy.  There's little left to ask, figure out. You cook, she does the dishes, whilst you give her a shoulder rub. She cooks,  you do the dishes, and serenade her what whadever your favorite song to sing is.

 

Now what, in retirement is, THE BEST.  There's "have to's" in blankets, busses, tee ball, learner permits, college, work, asset attainment, stack-a-dolla. 

 

Now what in retirement lends crickets.  Nuttin. Not one damn thing, as in, whadever in the heck we wanna.

 

Wanna? NO.  Damnit darnit!

 

Love, Victurd  

Sugar... ah honey honey.....

 Victor?  THE ARCHIES?  1969?
 
I'm old, sorry... or, the way I see it, thanks.  I am stuck on BandAid... stuff in the past, much.
 
Lady at work, funny haha, put 'glue traps' on the floor as she'd seen a mouse, one trap was right under the computer.  Of course of course, Size 11 shoe, directly on it.  Took a bit to git ma' dayum foot/shoe off the ground.  Some of the trap was sticking out from under the shoe, so.... I put the other size 11 atop that little bit sticking out.  Bad plan.  Now, two shoe stuck. It wasn't Easter yet, so, I wadn't gonna hop around the damn place...  (TBC)
 
She came to rescue me... her funny haha laughter was no help, but, didn't blame her. Finally, one shoe free, but... everywhere I stepped, more glue on the floor.. and soon, we were all sticking.
 
Band camp part 2... I've tried to cut back on sugar, and, carbs too. That said, life as we know it, could be short... so, anudder 1965 song, every time I see a gorgeous sunset, I hear Mick in the background "Well this could be the last time."  So, with that, I take a vote (1 to nuthing) and then, I eat something with sugar.  This particular night, I'd actually done good eating all week... so, I grabbed several huge chunks of vanilla ice cream and put 'em in a bowl. Further applauding my good habits, I decided 'what the heck' and dumped a huge squirt of pancake syrup atop.  Ok, it was 3 huge squirts. (TBC)
 
I was running late to meet a friend. Combed my hair, then my beard.  Uh oh.  Uh huh, syrup crap allover my beard.  A quick glance in the mirror.. wash.. got most.. off I was.
 
Sticky, me thinks, is important in our lives.  Relationships, it's kinda nice if both stick around.  At work, I was proud of the fact my boss said I broke the alltime record for sticky notes on a computer.  Well, worked for me.  Duct tape and super glue.  Brett and pine tar. Rosin bags...
 
Velcro.  Victor, you're so damn old this is probably where you tell us (again) about Ed Ames and his axe on Johnny Carson.  No, wasn't gonna share that one but thanks.
 
Do you stick to things with great conviction? One of my cousins recently told me of a story way back in the day... he'd played HS football.. asst fb coach was also the basketball coach. Season ended, coach asked "you're gonna play basketball aren't you?"  Nah... I don't think I'd be any good.  Coach twisted arm further... "Come for one week... then we'll judge, if I don't think it's for you, promise I'll tellya." Yeah but, my dad, we've got a rule, if you start something, you stick to it..." They shared the plan with dad, he OK'ed it... so, dribble dribble shoot shoot. (TBC)
 
One week later, coach tapped him on shoulder, "I'll seeya next year in football!"
 
I was a job hopper, kinda.   Did you stick to the same one forever and a day?  Howabout partner.. it takes much to stick together nowadays..  we, as a people., give up too early and I'm proud of everyone of ya that are Everready still going (together).
 
This is where I plagiarize (s'more):
 
Nothing in the world can take the place of persistence. Persistence and determination along are omnipotent. Calvin Coolidge.....   Don't quit, a wind from nowhere could turn it. Johnie Dent, Jr.
 
Stick to the plan, not your mood. Unknown...  A good plan gets you in the race, but sticking to it propels you into the winner's circle.. Lee Colan.  Start small, build confidence to finish big. Unknown.  "HELP!" a mouse. 
 
Victor?  Huh?  With your relationship 'won-lost' record, you sure YOU wanna give US advice?  NOW WAIT JUSTA MINUTE, I'M GONNA TELL HER EXACTLY WHAT YOU SAID.................... HONEY?...  HONEY?
 
The hell'd she go?
 
Oh well.  Hell, if I ever DO date again... I ain't gonna worry about cologne, new, nice clothes, whether or not I've scooped all the junk outta my car, Viagra, stuff like that...........  but I will make sure I have mouse glue traps.  That'll learn her.
 
Love, Victurd
 
 

Stranger danger.........

Aren't you glad we're normal... living in a World where everyone else is whacko?

 

WHAT?

 

Wait a minute...  you're telling me, when, in bed, you do any/everything you can to ensure your feet are covered up so 'a monster won't get you'?

 

Ahm, OK.  Bet ya look behind the shower curtain EVERY time you enter the same ole same ole bathroom don'tya?  Ahm, no. Victor, that's you.  Oh yeah, sorry.  Our secret.

 

You talk to your car don't ya?  Uh huh, what I thought.  Dog too? VICTOR, everyone talks to their dog.  Yeah, I know.. band camp, one time I was 'coupled' (long time ago eh Victor? Bite me).. there was a couple we did stuff with often (movies, ball games, fire pit/suds, yada) and there was a couple that was friends of theirs.  They, the couple we didn't know, brought their hound with them because they were so proud he knew over 300 words.  Uh huh. In fact, they's gonna go over the list in the living room, which, gave me a sudden urge to go have a smoke on the back deck. Aye yai yai.

 

I seen ya.  You turn the volume on the car radio down when you get close to the destination so you can 'see it better'. Weirdo.  I do that too.

 

I nose people with smell addictions. Their own fingernails. Laundry detergent. Play Doh, really. New tires. (Goes well with their touch addiction, those little nipple things that stick out the first week or so). Some people even crave the smell of mothballs.  They cray cray.  Me, I kinda enjoy wet ashphalt, old books and pine needles on the Christmas tree, but, that's all like normal ain't it? I wasn't even aware moths had balls but, I guess it makes Nature sense.

 

I seenya pickup the M&M barefooted.  Would that be a footish? Better question, didya eat it? 5 toe, er, I mean 5 second rule?  Ever eat a pine tree?

 

Charlotte over there.  When she leaves, she clicks to stool handle again to make sure it ain't runnin. The oven. The back sliding door.  The thermostat.  It's almost like she's got a list, crosschecking everything.  She then locks the front doors, both of em.  Climbs in the car next to Herbert.  He smiles, says, "Honey, your zipper is down."

 

Maggie, the best dayum cook this side'a Mosby, Missouri, she worries about her chidren.... blows on everything to make sure they don't burn their mouths.. . Between Jenny, Lenny and Sal, the three kiddos have missed 47 days of school this year, colds.. flu.. strep.. RSV (whaddeva that is)... On the way to The Piggly, momma tells Jenny, the oldest, "Remind me to get some candles.. daddy's 38th birthday is next week."

 

Some, step into their sport's bra.. I never have.  Pop bubble wrap, guilty, crack knuckles, drives me batty.  Seen ya, you eat the crust first on you PB&J don't ya?     

 

Your cereal is NEVER soggy if you eat it with a fork.  I always sneeze when I look at the sun.. or smell coworker Vicki's perfume. Man she lays it on.

 

Like the farmer's market don'tya?  I KNOW, cause I seen ya.  you eat BOTH ends of strawberries and the leaves.... the apple core (HOW?..  WHY?).. 

 

I have to get to the microwave one second before it dings.  You don't do that?  I have literally ZERO things to hide on my phone, but, when I show someone something on it, and they grab it, I want to kill them.

 

See doggy catching breeze next lane over, determine 'no way he can jump', I holler "GO GET YOUR BALL". I ain't got shot yet.

 

I SPEED over bridges.  Ya just never know.  I wear Billy Bob teeth on first Match.com dates just to see the reaction.

 

You know how chicks do the Homecoming wave with their hands? Seena dude doing that once, 'cept, his little finger was in his ear and he was Homecoming sawing it back and forth and back and forth.  Then, he looked.  Eww. 

 

And then, there was Sigma Nu hell week, but, that's a story for another day.  You're right, why not?  Nekked, pickup a marble off a huge chunk of ice, ya can't use your hands.  Mouth to mouth CPR to a carp that was in the toilet.  Damn actives, they blindfold you, make you stand on a chair.. break ALL KINDS of glass.. bounce it up and down in a metal bowl.. then, make you jump onto the floor, where, after you land, you can take your blindfold off, and realize you just jumped into.. .corn flakes.. with ketchup throughout.  You have pen tied to a string, that's tied to your 'uh huh', that's then brought up thru the neck opening of  your shirt, where, you must get 100 chick signatures before day's end. Yankers.  Some of 'em was yankers.

 

OK, I'll go.

 

Weirdest friend I have writes blogs.

 

Too many of 'em.

 

Bite me.

 

Love, Victurd                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     

 

Howya doin?

Rachel, Monica, Phoebe, Joey, Chandler, Ross.

Them'r friends.

Verywell. That. That's an online 'trustworthy health and wellness information resource with over 300 million annual users. Side note.  How they know that?  How many? I want that job.  Pay me, I'll count 'em.  That should take, get me to.. oh, I dunno, age 85 or 90 eh?

Verywell.  Verywell says there's 4 kinda friends.

Acquaintances.  Met 'em a few times, maybe parties, or through mutual friends. We kinda sorta know their names, a little bit about them, but, haven't really had any heart to heart conversations, or, spent much time with them one on one. Any friend is a good friend to have. 

Casual.  Office, gym, book club, for instance.   We know more about them than acquaintances, but that friendship is closely tied to the environment, arena, we see, meet them in. Victorwell (NOT VeryWell or perceived JoelOlsteenWell) thinks these type of friends, are, can be, fun... and certainly developed into something deeper.  

Close friends.  Besties. Inner circle. Bond with, talk to often, share our struggles. and confide our deepest, darkest fears with, VeryWell does very well in highlighting the yummy aspects here... emotional support.. trust.. .comfort.. fun... quality time..  advice..love.. accountability..      

Lifelong friends.. .  buddies since we were snotnoses. Tend to be our most authentic self around them, and vice versa.  More yummy aspects, steadfastness, shared experiences, belonging, familial ties, timelessness, lifelong memories.  

Verywell didn't end the article I read very well.  Necessities I spose.. Friendship ebb and flow... Sign of a good friend.. .Sign of a bad friend.. How to know when someone is no longer a good friend.   

I am positive in that I really really really like positive here, and not yuck.  Yuck certainly does happen.  We lose friends sometimes seing 'true colors'.  Ain't none of us perfect, and perhaps we prompted a getaway by a friend because we had shown our not-so-good-side.

 We is human, hear us roar.

Ain't it kinda a cool thing to look, think back.. picture which of our friends we would place in all those categories up there?

If we had to whittle down friendship to it's finest aspects... from my stinky feet it might be......... it's very nice to care about someone... and, to have someone who cares about us.

I think we could all write the sentence:

"You'll never know how much I appreciate you and our friendship. You've helped me immensely in life and I'd try my best to do anything to help you."

Today marks one year since the loss of our son.  

"You'll never know how much I appreciate you and our friendship. You've helped me immensely in life and I'd try my best to do anything to help you."

Love, Victurd

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

Selection Sunday.........

Daddy (sang bass, but, he also said) "When I's a kid, there tweren't no choice.  Mama said 'Run upstairs and git ur new britches on, make sure Sally is helping your little sister with her hair, then, git ur butts down here and, in the car by 8:45am for church, or else."  Never did challenge, find out, what that 'or else' was.  Figured it came with blisters.

Are you kidding me?  Did you NOT see the picture of The King, Richard Petty?  There's only one way to turn on Sundays... left, and obviously, Nascar. The whole fam damily.

We represent the lollipop guild..... we can't write or spell yet, but, we sure know howta lay on the floor infronta the TV all Sunday morning for Bugs, Tom and Jerry, Yabba dabba Fred and Barney, Smurfs. Ain'tno other stuff we'd consider, as in, That's All Folks.

Hi, I'm Bob, and I'm Karen, Sunday's our favorite day 'cause 'Mericans are home, ain't at work.  We spend early mornings catchin' up, he reading The Wall Street Journal and watching Fox, while I checkout The Washington Post and watch CNN, then, we get on Facebook, spend hours and hours calling people we don't know ugly names, offer 'well said' on them we agree with..you know, get our hearts'a pumpin'.. then, we forgive and forget for a short, run to the 3rd bedroom, have mad, amorous, then, back for round two...enda the night, she goes and sleeps in her bedroom, and, I, mine.  Picture perfect Sunday.

Hi. My baby and I, we don't do nuttin' during the week... festive diet of mac and cheese, ramen noodles, peanut butter (he likes PBJ, I'm more attuned to PB and sliced bananas, yum). Inotherwords, we're thrifty, SO, we can go every Friday night  to the B&B, buy us two tickets to a newest movie coming out, grab us a Giant Bucket of popcorn, he, a Diet Coke, me, a regular Pepsi.. we pretend like we're Rotten Tomatoes after, review this, challenge that, like, no like... take, keep notes... and it all leads up to our favorite, the Academy Awards. The day before, we go to The Used Prom Dress Thrift Store for me, and then he gets a tux for 24 hours from Men's Warehouse... our HEAVEN, our Sunday selection.

Teal, be for real. In KC, it is ALL ABOUT SOCCER, THE, Kansas City Current, HOME OPENER. Won, 2-1.  Soon, FIFA, World Cup. Sure, we enjoy the Chiefs, football, but, we get our kicks with Futbol, and, The World's FIRST Stadium built specifically for women's soccer.  Nanny nanny boo boo. 

For us, there was no question. No, not church, nor cartoons, Nascar - be for real.. we got ridda FB eons ago.. why pay $34 for a Giant Bucket of popcorn, when you can go to the ballpark and buy a bag'a peanuts for $4. No one cares about 'footie'. Baseball Ray, there's no other way.  I'm soooooooooooooo glad my wife grew up in a family that went to Spring Training every year (me?  I wore out a kajillion pairs of jeans playing wiffle ball in the yard 24/7, well, almost anyways. GO TEAM USA! ONE MORE, then, it's the MLB Network and however many Selection Sundays there are within 162 games.  HOLY COW!  Back back back back back...Go crazy folks, go crazy. We do.  Every Sunday. 

So now you know, The Rest of The Story.  Good day, Paul Harvey.

"HEY WAIT!  What about us?"  Basketball Jones and Brittany. 

Oh yeah, them too. (Go MU, and... Cal Baptist!)

Love, Victurd