Pain Man
I’m sitting here writing this post in my Kmart underwear … and nothing else. Yes, even though Kmart sucks. Maybe because of it. I gotta be me. We all know how much I enjoy humiliation.
I don’t know much and what I do know seems to be shrinking on an almost daily basis. My existence is increasingly consumed by thoughts regarding my sanity.
For those keeping track the opening paragraph was “underwear” and the follow-up paragraph was “shrinkage.” This is known as a progression of ideas. I’m building up to something. You are wise to still be reading this.
Aside from all that, there seems to be something else going on.
My rate of “Rain Man” moments seems to be on the rise. There’s been an uptick in momentia, if you will.
No, we decidedly do not refer to them as “senior moments.” Despite being a grumpy grandpa and standing on my lawn and yelling at kids, I’m not ready for that schtick just yet. Not while I’m still young and in my prime.
Besides, I’m an excellent driver.
Then I was responsible for a car accident after going to the pharmacy to pick up my “meds.” Oh, shit. Did I just use the word “meds?” This is the end.
So yeah, that happened.
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Hot Water Burn Baby: I Am Rain Man
I was going to write something interesting but I forgot what it was.
Kmart sucks!
There’s nothing like waking up, making a fresh, hot, delicious cup of coffee, preparing your travel mug with cream and sugar – just so – then driving off to work leaving it on the kitchen counter. More about coffee in under a minute…
Lately I’ve been losing my mind more often that usual. So far I’ve been able to find it again, but not until things get dicey.
Is it even possible to lose an iPad around the house? I make it look easy.
I’m definitely not wearing my underwear.
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Forever Albums
The Undercity. Once upon a time I lived here.
This morning I said to myself, “No damn politics on the blog! Enough!” I then sat back, cleared my mind and let my consciousness wonder. The tweet above was the result. My brain came up with the idea of marshmallows and chocolate bars having a rumble in the street. Random, I know! From this the lame and grisly thought above got expressed. Too bad Twitter doesn’t have a retroactive time warp function.
Then I checked my “recent drafts” on WordPress to see if there was anything worthy of being finished. Weird, but none of the 267 candidates there showed promise.
So, here’s a totally random post about music.
Back when I worked in the Big City, a group of guys would get off work and head over to Bennigan’s for $1 draft beers and munchies. Yes, this is also the site of the famous Night to Dismember. But that’s another story.
One day I went to the jukebox. It played CDs. Not records. And it had the option to play an entire CD from start to finish. So, when no one was looking, I selected Clint Black. An album called Put Yourself in My Shoes. And I played the whole damn thing. It cost money but it was worth it. Back at the bar everyone was bitching. Who the hell was the asshole? I lamented along with the rest of them, playing along, but inside I was laughing my ass off. For some reason a bar full of young posers becomes really upset about country music.
I like music. I like it a lot. And I have varied and eclectic tastes. My collection ranges from death goth metal to bluegrass. Gilbert and Sullivan show tunes to gospel. Rap, soft hits, Air Supply, Alan Parsons, The Beatles, Elvis, folk, etc. Some genres (like rap and gospel) I am very, very picky but some still find there way into my collection.
Like Ricky Skaggs. I’m a superfan. It seemed like there would also be at least one hardcore religious song per album. I didn’t care. I’d sing along with those songs just as much as the rest of them. “Sinners don’t wait before it’s too late / He’s a wonderful Saviour you know / Well I fell on my knees when I answered my pleas / Hallelujah, I’m ready to go.” Singing songs like that can also be useful for freaking out your friends.
Sometimes you come across albums where you lik every single song. Even the ones that never went on to become hits or even get played on the radio. I often wonder how these things got decided when there were better songs on the album than the ones that got released as singles. Back when I was a kid, we bought albums, not individual songs. If you only go for the promoted singles you’ll be missing out on a lot. Anyway, if every song rocks, then I call it a “Super Album.”
So what is a “Forever Album?” I personally have known two.
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A night to dismember
Can I get you something to nibble on? Some pizza shooters, shrimp poppers, or extreme fajitas? / No, just one of everything on the drink menu. / Oh. Sounds like someone has a case of the weekdays.
One time I was given some really good advice from another blogger. “Don’t make it about yourself.”
“Ah,” I responded. “Blogging tips. I love those.”
“What? No! This is no tip. I’m just trying to do the world a favor.”
Ahhhh. Well played!
I’m here to tell you that the truth hurts. And that I’m about to break that rule and talk about myself, perhaps for the first time ever. (What are the odds?)
If you’ve eaten in the last two hours this is your chance to get away. You would be well-advised to not make the jump.
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Anticipation
My explorations of space and time continue.
I remember when I was younger. Time moved slower. If there was some future date I was looking forward to, like Christmas, it took an agonizingly long time to arrive. It took forever.
As an adult, I’m learning it works just a wee bit differently.
I seldom look forward to anything. I did recently, though, when it came to our camping trip. And, of course, any day where I don’t have to work. A work week with only four days is so different than a regular work week it almost blows my mind. Those are about the only things I look forward to as an adult. Days away from the pain. A rare added bonus is days that will actually be fun. Like camping. Or a weekend stay at the Bed & Breakfast where we got married. Those are days I can look forward to.
You may find that having is not so pleasing a thing after all as wanting. It is not logical but it is often true.
–Spock
So there are times I may actually look forward to something. And that’s where time comes in. Blink. I’m back at work and the thing I was looking forward to is now just a memory.
WFT? How in the hell did that happen? It was a month away and now all of the sudden it’s already over?
When it was younger, because it took so long, there was an actually sense of anticipation. I realized recently that anticipation is history because anything I look forward to arrives in the blink of any eye. It’s over and a distant memory long before there was any chance of actual anticipation.
Time sure ain’t what it used to be.
A tweet from the wife
Didn’t I just bitch the other day about the misery of forgetting things in the morning?
Earlier today I began to get a feeling of worry regarding my kitty cats. (Don’t worry. This ends up well.) Specifically, I was wondering if I had unplugged the coffee pot. I had no memory of doing it.
I asked my wife if she could swing by and check on the kitties. In my mind I was imagining a big ball of fire and little kitty ghosts that hated my guts. Something like, “Damn you for trapping us in this fire hazard!”
The wife works closer to home, gets an hour lunch, and was going to be driving anyway, so she did me a solid and checked it out.
Yes, the coffee pot was still on. Curse this organic-based vehicle I’m forced to occupy!
This would have made an awesome tweet (hence the title of this post) but there was no way it would fit along with the backstory. But I still wanted to share.
This is what she wrote:
The pot was still plugged and the kitties were sitting at the dining table sipping coffee. I joined them for a cup. They were not amused.
Smart ass!
My cats may be irritated but at least they’re okay! And I think they may be planning a coup. 🙂
Flash Friction: The Ever Probing Universe
The Universe couldn't be here to accept this award so Space Donut accepts on its behalf. Where have you been hiding, Space Donut? Long time no see!
We modern humans have a lot to remember lest we get fucked. Turn off the coffee pot. Make sure all the doors and windows are locked. Don’t forget to pour a cup of that coffee you made before leaving for work. (Trust me on this one. It sucks to make a pot, arrive at work, then say, “Hey, motherfuck! Where in the name of Zeus’ butthole is my coffee?” That is one of the worst feelings in the world.)
Got a cold and you forgot your snot pills at home?
Lock the keys in the car?
Forget to pay a bill and now your internet is turned off?
Make a $2 error on your checking account and the bank where you’ve done business for the last ten years is more than happy to run everything through and charge you a grand total of $480 for the mistake?
Fail to pass on an important message and now you’re shit scum?
Sit on your eyeglasses?
Bump your iThing and it lands on the hard concrete in just the right way to smash into a zillion pieces and never work again?
Forget to feed and/or water the cats? Or forget to empty the litter box?
The point is this: We’re in a hurry. We’re under pressure. We’ve got a lot on our minds. And if you ever fuck up and forget one tiny little detail, the Universe will roar right up at you and tap you on the shoulder with a sledgehammer and say, “Got you, motherfucker!”
I found out the other day our kitchen window had been left unlocked. Probably for a couple of years.
This morning, my wife went to go to work. Suddenly I heard her screaming my name. Apparently after we went grocery shopping yesterday we failed to lock the car. It was sitting in our driveway unlocked.
Cue the Universe. “I’ll take it from here, ma’am.”
Her car had been completely ransacked. The glove box was open and everything had been strewn about. Papers, garbage and stuff covered both floorboards and front seats. Someone had gone through the car looking for valuables. And failed to clean up after themselves.
Thankfully, as far as we know, there was nothing valuable in there.
As far as the Universe is concerned, this was just a love tap. Under the visor was a remote to our garage door. With trepidation we opened the door to take a look. What a relief. My mountain bike was still there. Nothing seemed to be missing. Of course, from the garage the miscreants could have walked right into our home while we were asleep.
Apparently the Universe wasn’t interested in totally shitting on us. This time. Perhaps it was just doing us a favor by giving us a little reminder to remain even more vigilant. I mean, if you’re not thinking about bad stuff and protecting yourself 24/7 then you’re not living the good life yet, right?
We live in a nice subdivision. It’s a newer part of town. The houses here are all less than four years old. Even so, packs of wild animals known as Unsupervised Teens constantly roam the streets. (These are the younglings of species Assholius Parentus.) We find garbage in the gutter and cigarette butts way up our driveway. These kids eyeball you and act like they own the world. Yes, there is strength in numbers which is why Unsupervised Teen scum always travel in herds.
I guess they spend their evenings testing car doors to determine which are unlocked. It’s probably the only skill they really have.
I’m thinking what I’d really like to do is wire up the car to deliver a lethal shock. But, of course, the Universe would still be there to test my vigilance, right? I’d forget that one little detail and end up zapping my own ass.
Thanks, Universe. Keep testing and probing to see what mistakes we’ve made. Never let us get away with anything. Keep us honest.
So how did I do? Was this an enjoyable piece of Flash Friction? Stay tuned because there will be more. Just as soon as I forget something else important, probably something involving my Congressman-organ and a zipper.
Shouts from the Abyss 
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