Monday, June 27, 2011

A Date with Twitter

So I’ve fallen off the blog wagon. I’m trying to get back on but it’s proving more challenging than previous times I’ve fallen off.

No, I’m not saying that I’m giving up. Nor am I saying I’m going on sabbatical from writing.

You see, there’s someone (read: something) else…

I don’t know how to tell you this, but, I think Twitter has come between us.

I know, I know. I’m sorry and I hate saying it, but it’s true:

Twitter has my attention.

I know this must be hard for you to understand, and it’s certainly a lot to digest, but, please know that I still think of you, and want you in my life. It’s just that, the whole 140-character thing has dragged me in and provides that release, the give-and-take, you once provided, dear blog.

You see, it all began when I started the Twitter account for this blog. At first it was meant to be a promotion tool, a way to get out the word, and be a place to express, in short-form, thoughts that may or may not be relevant to the content of this blog.

Little did I know that it would slowly but surely take away my focus from you.

And I’m sorry for that.

Maybe… maybe we can all have dinner together and I can introduce you to each other? Maybe you two can be friends? Maybe you’d get along. That would be nice, wouldn’t it? I think you two would really hit it off.

Unfortunately, I must say that there is no way I can end my relationship with Twitter, at least not within the foreseeable future. And I also cannot end my relationship with you… so…

I hope you understand that this is not goodbye – I’ll try my best to write for you into the future (as inspiration comes of course).

But now I must go. I have a date with Twitter…

‘Til next time…


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Friday, June 17, 2011

Change the trunk oil, not the engine oil, please.

Many years ago, my friend wanted to buy an engine from a guy so he could upgrade his car for racing purposes.

We went in my car to get the engine from some guy in El Paso. He thought it appropriate to bring my car and also thought it perfectly sane to put the newly-purchased used engine in the trunk of my car.

After lining the trunk with tarps, we loaded it in.

As we drove back to his place, which consisted of both left and right turns over the course of an hour, the engine understandably tipped from one side to the other.

What did we open the trunk to find after arriving at his house to unload the engine?

Engine oil. Everywhere.

Apparently no one thought to drain the engine prior to transport. Also apparently, no one thought about checking to see if the oil had been drained from said engine prior to loading it into the trunk.

Needless to say, that was a nightmare to clean; a process which took days, included a laundromat, and never fully removed all of the oil.

Fortunately I don’t have that car anymore.


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Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Zombies in the News! (You may learn something. Nothing that would save your life, though.)

It’s been a long, long time since I last posted about zombies, so I offer you this historical info to peruse at your lehzure):

Apparently at one point (August 11, 1950 to be exact), someone thought that Koreans were zombies from the USSR. I guess that’s a little strange, and probably a gross misinterpretation of the Korean people.

On October 17, 1944, someone thought it would be neat to give jobs to the zombie population, because they’re people too.

In 1937, zombies were Republicans, sent all their laundry to Maine, and ate their dinners out of a crack barrels (whatever those are).

In 2009, researchers became finally sure that zombies would kill us dead if things start to go down.

And at least one city council in the world has had to admit recently its preparation shortcomings in regard to a zombie attack.

So there you have it. Zombies. Now go read my other posts on this subject.


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Monday, June 13, 2011

Questionable Acts with Food and Drink, Part One.

After writing about my nacho incident I realized that I had other stories regarding food and drink that would bring my character into question. I think it’s best to share these stories with you. Here’s part one. You’re welcome.

“The Turkey Club”

It was already an eventful night: people getting in trouble with their girlfriends for being a wingman; too much alcohol for some; people tripping up the stairs and spilling beer all over their clothes; and a random woman screaming at me “TAKE YOUR SHIRT OFF! REAL MEN FROM OKLAHOMA TAKE THEIR SHIRTS OFF!” while standing in line for a beer, even though I’m not from Oklahoma… all while taking in a country music show.

But the highlight of the evening took place after the event when we went to a nearby restaurant to eat and drink even more.

We arrived at the place and found it to be wall-to-wall packed. Understandably, we opted to leave and go elsewhere, if not home altogether.

On the way out, we walked past the hostess station. The front side was near impassable and I was drunk, so I walked behind since no one was standing there.

As we passed through we saw a to-go container sitting there. And just like the nachos, this box looked lonely, too. No one was close enough to claim it. And we certainly couldn’t let whatever it was go to waste.

So of course someone (likely to be TheGreatCon) decided it best to take the container and run out the door… what with being drunk and hungry and all.

After sprinting across the parking lot, we stopped to survey our bounty and consume whatever was inside the container.

We opened to find half a turkey club sandwich. And without hesitation, I grabbed my portion and started to eat.

TheGreatCon followed suit, but only after some disbelief in me jumping right in for a bite. And then he cried in complaint that there was tomato on the sandwich.

…A sandwich which we did not order.
…One that we could not customize ourselves.
…As if he could complain in any fashion whatsoever.

And then we went home.

The end.

Wait. No, that’s not how the night ended.

So then we were ON OUR WAY HOME when someone (again, likely to be TheGreatCon) informed us that he needed to vomit.

So we pulled off the highway, turned, turned, drove and turned, and finally found a dark place to pull over for him to take care of business.

He exited the vehicle, went over to the chain-link fence, and proceeded to gag himself.

After being unable to make himself throw up, he called me out of the car to keep him company. And then I offered to help him throw up by punching him in the stomach.

He agreed.

So I told him I would hit on the count of three, but then I actually punched him at ‘two’ like the surprise-maker I can be, which did nothing more than surprise-punch him and did not result in vomiting.

I guess at that point I got back in the car and waited for him to finish up.

And THEN we went home.

The real end.


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Friday, June 10, 2011

Yes, I ate them. Sue me.

One night I went to a concert. I drank ahead of time like I usually do in order to A) save money, and B) get the ball rolling.

At one point during the evening, likely between bands or something like that and after being well-oiled with liquor, I was near one of the snack bar areas taking a rest.

Here’s what I found, sitting there all alone by itself, as if someone forgot about it:

It looked so lonely.

And I was suddenly hungry.

And after much deliberation, including phone calls and texts to friends in hopes of helping me find the best way to handle such a situation, I left it like this:

…Why yes, yes I did eat a random order of nachos that were just sitting around in public.

And yes, of course I was drunk.

And yes, they were good.


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Tuesday, June 7, 2011

I would probably consider moving to Texas if it wasn’t for that jackrabbit.

(Scene: Summer, June/July 2002, Sheppard Air Force Base, Wichita Falls, Texas. Another airman (woman, actually) and I are conducting a walking tour of the base for newly-arrived trainees. I begin to warn them about the dangers of jackrabbits.) (Narration by yours truly.)

You think I’m joking, but I’m serious when I say “watch out for the jackrabbits.” They’re squirrelly and will attack you. They have human-like eyes that just stare at you, and you can tell that they’re sizing you up. You know they’re looking at you. You know they’re thinking about you. It’s really kind of freaky. Just keep your distance.

(Enter jackrabbit on the sidewalk 50 feet ahead, facing the street.)

See, there’s one right there. We have to go in that direction, so let’s walk slowly toward it and hopefully it will run away.

(The group and I walk slowly toward it. As we move closer, the jackrabbit turns toward us and squares up with the group.)

See! See what he did there!

(As we approach closer, in a burst of speed the jackrabbit runs toward us, aiming directly for the group as if it were trying to attack.)

(We all jump back in fear of being mauled by the rabbit as it comes within 15 feet of us.)

(It turns right and runs with great purpose to the middle of the road.)

(It stops, turns left, squares up with the car driving toward it, and runs in attack mode directly at the car until it is only a few feet from the vehicle.)

(It then bursts left and runs back toward our group until it is 10 feet away, forcing us to jump back again, and then darts away from us with great purpose, running off to terrorize others on base.)

(End scene)

Ever since that day I’ve been wary of jackrabbits. And ever since that day I’ve vowed to never live in Texas, almost exclusively because of the jackrabbits.


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