A deck short of a card and a duck call closer to victory...
Foot binding a Sasquatch could be both fun and educational as long as you remember that they like peanut butter and show up fuzzy on thermal imaging cameras.
So we were on our way to the Hippies' Turkeys or was it the Turkeys' Hippies. Either way we needed the practice and they needed the free labor.
I had heard of other operations where a person was paid by being allowed to keep what they can carry after the harvest was complete and quotas met. In this case our pay would not ave to be wrapped in duct-tape and surrounded by coffee grounds.
The management seemed nice enough and harmless in a sitar-playing-flip-flop-wearing sort of way. We were greeted by a warm hug and medical release / liability waiver forms. All was going as planned till I read the fine print and had to ask why accidental castration was included on the laundry list of possible injuries. The simple answer I was given put a very disturbing and entertaining image in my head. The hippie lawyer simply said that one of the crews that had volunteered last season was from a local nudist colony.
All I could think of this response was, "that poor naked bastard"...
Each of us was issued a burlap sack and a pair of long leather gloves before being led down a hall to a large door which held behind it what I could only describe as a sea of flipp'n Thanksgiving. The warehouse where they kept the feathered death-row candidates was knee deep and nut to butt turkeys. The smell was almost as bad as the executive facilities (back alley) at our favorite watering hole. If only we had the good sense to walk away, but then again this was us. Picking up a frozen turkey at the grocery store is easy albeit awkward in comparison. Our direction was to grab them by the feet and keep moving. After a few minutes of diving into turkey crap we started getting the hang of it and were described as naturals by our hosts. I am not too sure how proud I felt about the compliment, but one cannot have too many fall-back careers these days.
A few hours into the harvest we were advised that the daily quota had been met and we were now collecting for us. Uncertain of what we were going to do with our feathered quarry we decided to only grab a dozen or so and thank our day's managers for their hospitality.
Once back at the ranch we decided to keep a few of the would-be dinners as companions for Pinky and deep fry the rest.
Success is measured in hands and bushels. Fear is measure in lost seat cushions.
When asked if you mind a comment preceded by "no offense" say yes and you will feel like less of a tool...
Don't forget to wink at the next police officer you see or wave and blow kisses at the garbage truck.
Keep it strange my friends...
Monday, July 11, 2011
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Tuning the Jack Hammer
Warm and twisted suger cubes...
Starry-eyed wookie stunt doubles...
Disco Magic and spin cycles...
So randomness is hard to plan and even harder to duplicate.
Case in point, Reality TV has taken on a life of its own caught somewhere between fact and fiction by picking and choosing what reality can be. Let's take a step back and a sideways glance... feelings are not as easy to fake as emotions. Although you were caught up in the drama and realize it was just for the cameras did you not become affected by the human condition and at the same time took solace in the fact that you were comfortably shielded by the fact that you were just watching / along for the ride. I do not believe we can chalk this up to escapism as much as it is forced immersion into the human condition by witnessing and internalizing social interactions that we are not fortunate / unfortunate enough to experience...
When are my fifteen minutes up and can I spread them out Ala NFL by taking well timed time-outs?
Can we then pose questions on the poses taken?
So much planning and no real training...
Had we truly started freeing the pink?
So much time had been spent on organizing that our muse had taken an extended coffee break. This dawned on me as i got stuck on Animal Planet when trying to find the Gold Cup game...
Watching these turkeys get, for lack of a better word, herded and collected I could almost hear the light bulb get switched on.
We did not need a dry run or another crazy scavenger hunt. We needed hands on, grab a freagin angry bird, and run training. I started making phone calls to every turkey packaging company I could think of to ask how and where one could become a Turkey-catching-grabbing type person... It was not till the 50th phone call that I had found the needle in the haystack. You gotta love some of the hippies. The voice on the other line told me that they were a time-banking operation and would love for a group of us to stop by to help with the "harvest" and in return we could gain the equal worth in service hours or products for our work...
(Time banking is an awesome concept / practice:) look it up)
We rounded up the crew and set to the task of organizing the trip.
Next stop Hippie Turkey Farm!!!
Channel surfing on borrowed time...
Procrastination and deadlines.
Smile if you can and laugh if you want to. Who can stop you from doing either?
Take joy in what you have and stock of your dreams. In sleep we are creators and in day light we are believers of those dreams. Make it happen my friends.
Starry-eyed wookie stunt doubles...
Disco Magic and spin cycles...
So randomness is hard to plan and even harder to duplicate.
Case in point, Reality TV has taken on a life of its own caught somewhere between fact and fiction by picking and choosing what reality can be. Let's take a step back and a sideways glance... feelings are not as easy to fake as emotions. Although you were caught up in the drama and realize it was just for the cameras did you not become affected by the human condition and at the same time took solace in the fact that you were comfortably shielded by the fact that you were just watching / along for the ride. I do not believe we can chalk this up to escapism as much as it is forced immersion into the human condition by witnessing and internalizing social interactions that we are not fortunate / unfortunate enough to experience...
When are my fifteen minutes up and can I spread them out Ala NFL by taking well timed time-outs?
Can we then pose questions on the poses taken?
So much planning and no real training...
Had we truly started freeing the pink?
So much time had been spent on organizing that our muse had taken an extended coffee break. This dawned on me as i got stuck on Animal Planet when trying to find the Gold Cup game...
Watching these turkeys get, for lack of a better word, herded and collected I could almost hear the light bulb get switched on.
We did not need a dry run or another crazy scavenger hunt. We needed hands on, grab a freagin angry bird, and run training. I started making phone calls to every turkey packaging company I could think of to ask how and where one could become a Turkey-catching-grabbing type person... It was not till the 50th phone call that I had found the needle in the haystack. You gotta love some of the hippies. The voice on the other line told me that they were a time-banking operation and would love for a group of us to stop by to help with the "harvest" and in return we could gain the equal worth in service hours or products for our work...
(Time banking is an awesome concept / practice:) look it up)
We rounded up the crew and set to the task of organizing the trip.
Next stop Hippie Turkey Farm!!!
Channel surfing on borrowed time...
Procrastination and deadlines.
Smile if you can and laugh if you want to. Who can stop you from doing either?
Take joy in what you have and stock of your dreams. In sleep we are creators and in day light we are believers of those dreams. Make it happen my friends.
Friday, June 24, 2011
Tickled to be Near
So I found the Rabbit hole?
Velcro parachutes and nickle-plated bungee cords...
After a long day of setting up straw-man arguments do you light a candle or visit the local psychic?
Freagin spray cheese is more tempting.
I was minding my own business and like an alien abduction it showed up just outside my field of vision when I lost my train of thought...
So we got the pink menace back o the barn while we fenced off the back forty catch that use t be a burn pit . We would certainly get pinched if we left him at the tank. Chupacabras might show up for a cameo appearance.
Thongs are less complicated and pose less of a challenge that the simple task of re-locating the hormonal fowl, but in true form I managed to complicate this well outside of the usual expectations.
Mesquite bushes do have a lot to share when you are wanting to catch something pink and wiry. I was surprised that I managed to keep my manhood in tact after the sprint I had just completed. Out of breath, holding the bird, and in need of stitches is how they found me. Any man less anesthetized would have asked for help or at least waited till daylight to track the creature, but true to form I was in full effect.
I could only think of how much like sushi Pinky would taste like so close to Thanksgiving...
So much time had been spent in figuring out how to cause the largest amount of havoc that the relations between me and the pink phenom were wearing thin.
It was obviously time for a heart to heart...
I had saved the once living remnants of mescal bottles for just an occasion as this. A little sal de gusano and Pinky was acting like I had found the ambrosia version of brine shrimp. I sat there with the feathered pimp for a couple of hours bonding in the least creepy way imaginable communing with the big pink cock (male bird you dirty bastards).
After sunrise I finally picked up the pickled bird and set him just inside the fence line with a strong sense of victory I walked back to the barn to catch at least a few winks.
"Sharks only bite when you touch their privates", Ulah...
Is The Piper on a specific pay schedule?
Velcro parachutes and nickle-plated bungee cords...
After a long day of setting up straw-man arguments do you light a candle or visit the local psychic?
Freagin spray cheese is more tempting.
I was minding my own business and like an alien abduction it showed up just outside my field of vision when I lost my train of thought...
So we got the pink menace back o the barn while we fenced off the back forty catch that use t be a burn pit . We would certainly get pinched if we left him at the tank. Chupacabras might show up for a cameo appearance.
Thongs are less complicated and pose less of a challenge that the simple task of re-locating the hormonal fowl, but in true form I managed to complicate this well outside of the usual expectations.
Mesquite bushes do have a lot to share when you are wanting to catch something pink and wiry. I was surprised that I managed to keep my manhood in tact after the sprint I had just completed. Out of breath, holding the bird, and in need of stitches is how they found me. Any man less anesthetized would have asked for help or at least waited till daylight to track the creature, but true to form I was in full effect.
I could only think of how much like sushi Pinky would taste like so close to Thanksgiving...
So much time had been spent in figuring out how to cause the largest amount of havoc that the relations between me and the pink phenom were wearing thin.
It was obviously time for a heart to heart...
I had saved the once living remnants of mescal bottles for just an occasion as this. A little sal de gusano and Pinky was acting like I had found the ambrosia version of brine shrimp. I sat there with the feathered pimp for a couple of hours bonding in the least creepy way imaginable communing with the big pink cock (male bird you dirty bastards).
After sunrise I finally picked up the pickled bird and set him just inside the fence line with a strong sense of victory I walked back to the barn to catch at least a few winks.
"Sharks only bite when you touch their privates", Ulah...
Is The Piper on a specific pay schedule?
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Borrowed Stop Watch Glitter
Salmon would probably agree with the rush hour traffic.
Tuning in to a good read or setting up digital horse shoes?
Drug screening your gardner may not be a good idea.
So we were somehow legit again.
Freag'n revolutionaries who would teach them all a lesson as soon as we figured out who they were.
Was I missing something?
Apperantly the Sherrif had been alerted to some kind of a wild animal sighting that he had to respond to out by the Overbee place. Luckily it was after dark and he did not get a chance to travel around with a spotlight to put the Pastor's wife at ease. She had called the station frantically telling the tale of a strange colored giant bird that had attacked her. The officer could only grin and take her word for what was going on and later would express to the Cowboy that he suspected she had been hitting the cough syrup again.
Of course I got the call about Pinky within minutes of that conversation taking place and made my way back to the tank we had used as a sanctuary for Pinky so many weeks ago. It seemed that he had lost interest in his surroundings and decided to stop by the Pastor's land for a little quality time with his domesticated turkeys. That Pink horny bastard had apparently injured a few of the birds in his quest for affection.
All I could do is hope that he would be enticed by the plastic lawn ornament I had brought with me and we could move him to a more secure location. So I sat there in the truck with the plastic Flamingo in the passenger seat with the door open waiting. Pinky came into the clearing just to the West of the tank to see if we had brought the usual brine shrimp treats for him when he spotted his next target and rushed at the truck doing his usual pre-game-I-am-gonna-get-some dance. Something was different about him. He seemed more aggressive. Maybe the turkey tale had toughened him up. The Feathered menace started squawking at me and flapping his crazy wings in an obvious show of force. I started laughing and was met with a wicked wake-up call. Pinky jumped into the truck and started snapping and pecking at me in what I can only describe as a the-girl-is-mine ambush. I opened my door and rolled out of the truck kicking the door shut when I hit the ground. Pinky somehow managed to shut the door on the passenger side with his feet.
So there I was.
Sitting in the bed of my own truck while Pinky and the plastic playmate made the beast with two backs.
What could I do?
I opened the tool box / ice chest and commenced to hydrate and text my fellow revolutionaries on my progress. Pinky was in no way bashful and was having his way with the oil-based friend he had made. I toasted to their health and waited for the crew.
A few hours later the BBQ was in full effect and the same Peace keeper that had tipped us off to the situation was greedily pumping the keg as he was now off duty. Pinky had humped himself into a post-nookie slumber, the fajitas were on the grill, and I sat both triumphant and concerned with my capture and pending relocation of my hormonal, feathered companion...
Lotioning your hands at the beginning of the work day at your desk = cool
Lotioning your feet at the beginning of the work day at your desk = not cool
My popcorn is mine and you should really get your own...
Do garden gnomes appreciate being compared to persons that will not leave at the end of a party?
Tuning in to a good read or setting up digital horse shoes?
Drug screening your gardner may not be a good idea.
So we were somehow legit again.
Freag'n revolutionaries who would teach them all a lesson as soon as we figured out who they were.
Was I missing something?
Apperantly the Sherrif had been alerted to some kind of a wild animal sighting that he had to respond to out by the Overbee place. Luckily it was after dark and he did not get a chance to travel around with a spotlight to put the Pastor's wife at ease. She had called the station frantically telling the tale of a strange colored giant bird that had attacked her. The officer could only grin and take her word for what was going on and later would express to the Cowboy that he suspected she had been hitting the cough syrup again.
Of course I got the call about Pinky within minutes of that conversation taking place and made my way back to the tank we had used as a sanctuary for Pinky so many weeks ago. It seemed that he had lost interest in his surroundings and decided to stop by the Pastor's land for a little quality time with his domesticated turkeys. That Pink horny bastard had apparently injured a few of the birds in his quest for affection.
All I could do is hope that he would be enticed by the plastic lawn ornament I had brought with me and we could move him to a more secure location. So I sat there in the truck with the plastic Flamingo in the passenger seat with the door open waiting. Pinky came into the clearing just to the West of the tank to see if we had brought the usual brine shrimp treats for him when he spotted his next target and rushed at the truck doing his usual pre-game-I-am-gonna-get-some dance. Something was different about him. He seemed more aggressive. Maybe the turkey tale had toughened him up. The Feathered menace started squawking at me and flapping his crazy wings in an obvious show of force. I started laughing and was met with a wicked wake-up call. Pinky jumped into the truck and started snapping and pecking at me in what I can only describe as a the-girl-is-mine ambush. I opened my door and rolled out of the truck kicking the door shut when I hit the ground. Pinky somehow managed to shut the door on the passenger side with his feet.
So there I was.
Sitting in the bed of my own truck while Pinky and the plastic playmate made the beast with two backs.
What could I do?
I opened the tool box / ice chest and commenced to hydrate and text my fellow revolutionaries on my progress. Pinky was in no way bashful and was having his way with the oil-based friend he had made. I toasted to their health and waited for the crew.
A few hours later the BBQ was in full effect and the same Peace keeper that had tipped us off to the situation was greedily pumping the keg as he was now off duty. Pinky had humped himself into a post-nookie slumber, the fajitas were on the grill, and I sat both triumphant and concerned with my capture and pending relocation of my hormonal, feathered companion...
Lotioning your hands at the beginning of the work day at your desk = cool
Lotioning your feet at the beginning of the work day at your desk = not cool
My popcorn is mine and you should really get your own...
Do garden gnomes appreciate being compared to persons that will not leave at the end of a party?
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Pink Chrome and Cupcakes
Hardly moving or stationary living?
Consequences lead the parade...
Wrinkled time makes for some awkward first encounters with oneself.
So we haven't quite figured out how to unfreeze the millionairs but they keep comming around to have themselves preserved...
The real trick is to know how tuff you are not and how willing you are to follow through when blufing. This is a lesson not always easily learned...
So we had lost a bit of the following but continued the recruiting efforts at the gun range and the local watering holes...
Where else could we find the cream of the crop? I had no idea.
Many of our newest members were borderline schizophrenics with as many conspiracy theories as one liners. Often times our meetings were more like Icke rallies than revolutionary parties. Did this scare me? You bet your drunken goat of a granny it did...
Too much attention was being given to who we were running from rather than why we were doing what we were doing. To be perfectly honest I had somehow started buying into what I was peddling... What had started out as a monster of a prank was now evolving and becoming just a bit more dangerous.
This was no longer your typical beer run during curling semi-finals...
Not since the Donnie Osmund Fan Club or the "Professional" Fraternity (that will remain nameless) did a simple excuse to have a little fun get out of hand.
It was like the Boondocks Saints had been re-written by a person living in a soft room eating soft food.
So the core membership had not changed but somehow started being less willing to broadcast its whereabouts. Strange considering our normally personable demeanor. What was happening? Did we need a wake up call? Did we need to be reminded of who we were?
In short, yes.
The Cowboy and I decided to help all of us we would need to dumb it up a little and set upon constructing the running of the gauntlet that could re-inspire. Word on the wire was that the museum was going to have some sort of a natural history of flight exposition and we wanted in...
Now I must take a moment to recognize how little of a background check many night watchmen get these days...
Rodneyy had been a loyal and trusted friend of the Cowboy for a few years and had somehow managed to pass both the drug and background checks of a local security company that had won the museums bid by cutting its costs by using interns from the university's law enforcement program.
After properly motivating Randy after the fourth round of a harmless liquid lunch with promises of barrel racers and swimsuit models, we had our inside man. All we had to do is be at the south door of the museum at 03:00. This would give the membership a chance to make the appointment and last call on just another Tuesday night.
Final Headcount brought us to eleven. This was not our best turn out, but would promise to be fun. Each member was issued a hand truck, three crates, gorilla glue, and a six pack in the parking lot.
Like a circus entry we formed a single file line through the South entrance and began disbursing the contents of our crates after being reassured the cameras had been disabled. The laughter was contagious as we set about our task. Every member was sure to empty his crates and dispose of all six cans properly. Our mission was complete and we dissolved back into the night.
The next morning the local news channels were abuzz with our victory with descriptions of the scene inside of the museum where vandals had glued over 12,000 plastic flamingos to the history of flight hall and just like that we were on top again. One small detail would escape the news shows for at least ten more hours as the Cowboy and I had partially filled each of the flamingos with frozen bait shrimp just to let them know we meant business... Oh the scent of victory.
Time waits for no man, but will find something to read while waiting for the right lady to pick out something to wear...
We should all re-focus this week and find our inner silly and buy it a shot.
Consequences lead the parade...
Wrinkled time makes for some awkward first encounters with oneself.
So we haven't quite figured out how to unfreeze the millionairs but they keep comming around to have themselves preserved...
The real trick is to know how tuff you are not and how willing you are to follow through when blufing. This is a lesson not always easily learned...
So we had lost a bit of the following but continued the recruiting efforts at the gun range and the local watering holes...
Where else could we find the cream of the crop? I had no idea.
Many of our newest members were borderline schizophrenics with as many conspiracy theories as one liners. Often times our meetings were more like Icke rallies than revolutionary parties. Did this scare me? You bet your drunken goat of a granny it did...
Too much attention was being given to who we were running from rather than why we were doing what we were doing. To be perfectly honest I had somehow started buying into what I was peddling... What had started out as a monster of a prank was now evolving and becoming just a bit more dangerous.
This was no longer your typical beer run during curling semi-finals...
Not since the Donnie Osmund Fan Club or the "Professional" Fraternity (that will remain nameless) did a simple excuse to have a little fun get out of hand.
It was like the Boondocks Saints had been re-written by a person living in a soft room eating soft food.
So the core membership had not changed but somehow started being less willing to broadcast its whereabouts. Strange considering our normally personable demeanor. What was happening? Did we need a wake up call? Did we need to be reminded of who we were?
In short, yes.
The Cowboy and I decided to help all of us we would need to dumb it up a little and set upon constructing the running of the gauntlet that could re-inspire. Word on the wire was that the museum was going to have some sort of a natural history of flight exposition and we wanted in...
Now I must take a moment to recognize how little of a background check many night watchmen get these days...
Rodneyy had been a loyal and trusted friend of the Cowboy for a few years and had somehow managed to pass both the drug and background checks of a local security company that had won the museums bid by cutting its costs by using interns from the university's law enforcement program.
After properly motivating Randy after the fourth round of a harmless liquid lunch with promises of barrel racers and swimsuit models, we had our inside man. All we had to do is be at the south door of the museum at 03:00. This would give the membership a chance to make the appointment and last call on just another Tuesday night.
Final Headcount brought us to eleven. This was not our best turn out, but would promise to be fun. Each member was issued a hand truck, three crates, gorilla glue, and a six pack in the parking lot.
Like a circus entry we formed a single file line through the South entrance and began disbursing the contents of our crates after being reassured the cameras had been disabled. The laughter was contagious as we set about our task. Every member was sure to empty his crates and dispose of all six cans properly. Our mission was complete and we dissolved back into the night.
The next morning the local news channels were abuzz with our victory with descriptions of the scene inside of the museum where vandals had glued over 12,000 plastic flamingos to the history of flight hall and just like that we were on top again. One small detail would escape the news shows for at least ten more hours as the Cowboy and I had partially filled each of the flamingos with frozen bait shrimp just to let them know we meant business... Oh the scent of victory.
Time waits for no man, but will find something to read while waiting for the right lady to pick out something to wear...
We should all re-focus this week and find our inner silly and buy it a shot.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Wind Up Pacemaker
Spinning a moldy record and hoping for an electric eclipse.
Running at stall-speed and breaking records.
Lucky by accident.
Did I miss second base?
In retrospect we are all silly when you sit and think about it. Everything from slapping an itch to apologising to the person that just beat your ass.
So my heart goes out to the guy that should have paid more attention to "Waiting to Exhale" and later I can only laugh at how he knew what he was getting into. So many movies set an example where life should be imitating art...
Example: Practice the Jedi Mind trick when you are alone versus when you are hanging out with your best friend.
We spend so much time on how not to make a mistake that we fail to recognize the sheer genius that went into committing the mistake in the first place. We sit and over analyse ourselves into paralysis instead of just acting and letting the chips fall where they may and then get depressed over the time that we wasted when we discover an old man staring back at us in the mirror first thing in the morning. I mean really where did life go? Sad thing is it is looking right back at us. we all talk about taking the time to do the important things and spend lifetimes making up our minds as to what those things are. A wise man once told me that such thought and contemplation is little more than mental masturbation and can lead to lack of vision instead of blindness. So much energy is spent on defining a good time and its limits that the good time itself completely escapes us.
Acting on impulse is not always a mistake or an excuse.
When is the last time you made a goofy face at someone at a stoplight just to get a reaction?
Have you ever just smiled because you can?
Ask yourself when the last time you ran out on the front porch in boxers, boots, and a cowboy hat holding a beer and shooting holes in the moon...
That is a good time.
Don't set up a script for your life and just live it if only for a weekend...
Yell obscenities in the shower.
Wear a wig for the hell of it.
Inspire those around you to laugh at themselves.
Release your Id my friends and embrace your crazy!!!
Running at stall-speed and breaking records.
Lucky by accident.
Did I miss second base?
In retrospect we are all silly when you sit and think about it. Everything from slapping an itch to apologising to the person that just beat your ass.
So my heart goes out to the guy that should have paid more attention to "Waiting to Exhale" and later I can only laugh at how he knew what he was getting into. So many movies set an example where life should be imitating art...
Example: Practice the Jedi Mind trick when you are alone versus when you are hanging out with your best friend.
We spend so much time on how not to make a mistake that we fail to recognize the sheer genius that went into committing the mistake in the first place. We sit and over analyse ourselves into paralysis instead of just acting and letting the chips fall where they may and then get depressed over the time that we wasted when we discover an old man staring back at us in the mirror first thing in the morning. I mean really where did life go? Sad thing is it is looking right back at us. we all talk about taking the time to do the important things and spend lifetimes making up our minds as to what those things are. A wise man once told me that such thought and contemplation is little more than mental masturbation and can lead to lack of vision instead of blindness. So much energy is spent on defining a good time and its limits that the good time itself completely escapes us.
Acting on impulse is not always a mistake or an excuse.
When is the last time you made a goofy face at someone at a stoplight just to get a reaction?
Have you ever just smiled because you can?
Ask yourself when the last time you ran out on the front porch in boxers, boots, and a cowboy hat holding a beer and shooting holes in the moon...
That is a good time.
Don't set up a script for your life and just live it if only for a weekend...
Yell obscenities in the shower.
Wear a wig for the hell of it.
Inspire those around you to laugh at themselves.
Release your Id my friends and embrace your crazy!!!
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Silly String Tanga
Realizing your uniqueness is not so unique is a uniquely common experience...
Treading water may be a good way to describe the feeling of not drowning.
Remember, The Journey of A Thousand Miles is one hell of a long walk no matter how you spin it.
Are we ever truly ready for the unexpected? That was the only thought running through my mind along with the monumental, how much is too much boxers showing out the back of my pants?
The answer to the first is plan better, and to the second, it doesn't really freagin' matter if you are going commando anyways. In both cases you should remember a good belt.
I honestly would trade all my afterthought for forethought any day of the week but in the meantime it makes for a much more interesting life. Example?
For the most part a complete stranger will put up with being called by women's names for about twenty minutes before actually attempting to knock you unconscious with a pool cue after having the name calling pointed out by his much less hammered buddies. My opinion, Mary needs to really chill out when drinking with the likes of us...
OK so a speedo car wash may not have been the best idea in a small south Texas town, but the cause needed the funds, it was a hot day, and we were bored.
First order of business was making the signs easy to read as well as easy to carry.
Answer:
Trashcan lids and sharpies
After spending a few minutes writing out CAR WASH on a few lids we needed to decide on a location that would be easy to see from the road and where the owners wouldn't mind the extra publicity.
Location, location, location?
One of the crew just so happened to be part owner of a small diner not far from the ranch and he was easy to convince to give us free rule over the parking lot and use of the water. All he asked was to have first choice of the Speedo's we had procured for the spur of the moment event.
It was not long before we started getting noticed from the main road running through the town a bunch of the twenty somethings thought it was a funny idea and supported us just to be able to say they did and take pictures of the idiots in speedos washing trucks. This and the older women weren't bad. It made for a pretty entertaining afternoon. It was the older single gentlemen that seemed to make things just a little too metro for the South Texas Town. Although creepy at first, they turned out to be the best tippers and for some reason kept insisting that their tires were not clean enough... Oh well.
At the end of the afternoon we had put together over $350.00 and about two dozen phone numbers.
The cash was very welcome and the numbers needed to be carefully sorted into three categories.
Six Pack Required, Fifth of Tequila, and I may need to have my stomach pumped later.
We were back in business...
Many would say that the cause was more of a non-cause invented to entertain the demented and give purpose to the under achievers. To this I would have to agree that they were half wrong and leave it at that.
If asked I would just praise those involved and give the Man the bird and that as my friend Candid Ice would say is Real Talk... To which I could only say, Sho Nuff.
So much time is spent on trying to decide how we will allocate our finite resources that we tend to forget the talents that we have in abundance and the perpetual joy they give both to the world around us as well as ourselves. A smile, A creepy wink, and a cheesy thumbs up can go a long way if the timing is right and even further if the timing is questionable. Not enough emphasis is given on the immeasurable power of honest joy...
My challenge to you is to find what you posses that cannot have a price assigned to it and make sure you share that with the world around you as if it were the most relevant Charity around. A little bit of laughter goes a long way...
Big Love to All of You
E
Treading water may be a good way to describe the feeling of not drowning.
Remember, The Journey of A Thousand Miles is one hell of a long walk no matter how you spin it.
Are we ever truly ready for the unexpected? That was the only thought running through my mind along with the monumental, how much is too much boxers showing out the back of my pants?
The answer to the first is plan better, and to the second, it doesn't really freagin' matter if you are going commando anyways. In both cases you should remember a good belt.
I honestly would trade all my afterthought for forethought any day of the week but in the meantime it makes for a much more interesting life. Example?
For the most part a complete stranger will put up with being called by women's names for about twenty minutes before actually attempting to knock you unconscious with a pool cue after having the name calling pointed out by his much less hammered buddies. My opinion, Mary needs to really chill out when drinking with the likes of us...
OK so a speedo car wash may not have been the best idea in a small south Texas town, but the cause needed the funds, it was a hot day, and we were bored.
First order of business was making the signs easy to read as well as easy to carry.
Answer:
Trashcan lids and sharpies
After spending a few minutes writing out CAR WASH on a few lids we needed to decide on a location that would be easy to see from the road and where the owners wouldn't mind the extra publicity.
Location, location, location?
One of the crew just so happened to be part owner of a small diner not far from the ranch and he was easy to convince to give us free rule over the parking lot and use of the water. All he asked was to have first choice of the Speedo's we had procured for the spur of the moment event.
It was not long before we started getting noticed from the main road running through the town a bunch of the twenty somethings thought it was a funny idea and supported us just to be able to say they did and take pictures of the idiots in speedos washing trucks. This and the older women weren't bad. It made for a pretty entertaining afternoon. It was the older single gentlemen that seemed to make things just a little too metro for the South Texas Town. Although creepy at first, they turned out to be the best tippers and for some reason kept insisting that their tires were not clean enough... Oh well.
At the end of the afternoon we had put together over $350.00 and about two dozen phone numbers.
The cash was very welcome and the numbers needed to be carefully sorted into three categories.
Six Pack Required, Fifth of Tequila, and I may need to have my stomach pumped later.
We were back in business...
Many would say that the cause was more of a non-cause invented to entertain the demented and give purpose to the under achievers. To this I would have to agree that they were half wrong and leave it at that.
If asked I would just praise those involved and give the Man the bird and that as my friend Candid Ice would say is Real Talk... To which I could only say, Sho Nuff.
So much time is spent on trying to decide how we will allocate our finite resources that we tend to forget the talents that we have in abundance and the perpetual joy they give both to the world around us as well as ourselves. A smile, A creepy wink, and a cheesy thumbs up can go a long way if the timing is right and even further if the timing is questionable. Not enough emphasis is given on the immeasurable power of honest joy...
My challenge to you is to find what you posses that cannot have a price assigned to it and make sure you share that with the world around you as if it were the most relevant Charity around. A little bit of laughter goes a long way...
Big Love to All of You
E
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Transparent Blindfold
Christmas light etiquette...
Unwashed masses hysteria...
Wishing for the last slice of pizza and getting the crust. That is what it felt like.
A big freagin joke. To what degree are we holding ourselves to unrealistic criteria. Just striving to fit into some mold whose maker had long since forgotten.
What are we really trying to do?
Where are we going?
and how the hell do you lose a shoe at a bar?
Most things are unimpressive and the precious others just seem tainted some how. Everything seemed to be falling into some strange machine like rhythm. It was like all the flavor had been chewed out of the bubble gum and only the action of blowing the fleeting bubble remained as its sole purpose. How and when did things get this scripted?
I thought we were trying to bring about some glorious anarchy just to get those in charge to scratch their heads and wonder when they lost touch. Instead we were turning into this side show act that persons would travel to see just as quickly as they would watch a sports accident on instant replay.
We needed to shake things up again and knew how to do it.
The Scavenger Hunt of the Damned...
1) Port'o Pottie
2) Ronald Statue
3) Exchange Student
One night. The only prize: Bragging Rights. It could happen.
So we broke into five teams of two.
The rancher and I had the edge as we already had access to one of the items so we decided to let the other teams have a sporting chance and agreed to give them a three hour head start and discuss strategy over beers.
We were in the middle of discussing how many words rhyme with stunt when we got the phone call. The first two teams had already gotten the first item and trying to find a school directory to get the address to the nearest third item.
Our item three was busy learning the nuances of the American version of English with our rhyming game and could hold his own at quarters. Freagin Aussie was like a big Texan and fit right in when it came to raising a little Cain. I guess it could have been considered cheating but Bill wouldn't let us near the girl from Germany again as we had already ruined his chances of ever going out with her again.
I guess we could get started
The truck was already warmed up and our goals were easy. The tilt trailer was hooked up and we were on our way. The first stop was the baseball stadium just behind the neighborhood.
The trick was to figure out which one had been most recently cleaned. After the customary game of paper, rock, scissors it was decided that I would do the inspecting.
After some gagging our target was set and the chains securely wrapped around it. The winch screeched to life and we were in business. This was too easy I thought when it happened.
Apparently no amount of planning could get one ready to react to this type of situation. Just as the throne was sliding towards the tilt trailer it got stuck on a ripple in the asphalt of the walking trail and flipped almost completely over as the chains slid up to almost the top of the plastic cubicle. The entire trailer was now covered in what could only be described as industrial smurf poo. We all managed to dodge the odor causing agents to discover that stealth was no longer our friend. We managed to pull it the rest of the way onto the trailer by hand using the still attached chain while tucking our mouths and noses into the tops of our shirts. We looked like a cross between ninjas and stall mucks. The most amazing part was that no one even noticed. No lights went on. There was just this erie silence. The kind of quiet you get when you ask a fluffy individual if they are expecting or when you find out your neighbors door looks a lot like your own at three in the morning.
Two down one to go...
Our friend wearing big red shoes was standing there waving and smiling like he had always been as long as any of us could remember. I had lost track of how many dreams that face had turned into nightmares during my childhood. This was what I was considered pay back. I volunteered to jump the fence and did so as gracefully as possible at that point of the evening. Luckily I felt no pain when I ran head first into the three horse carousel.
This was going to be difficult. The bolts at the base were too wide for any wrench I could carry and no pry bar could be fit between the weld marks. It was clear that caveman tactics would have to be employed and we would be the opposite of subtle. I was passed the chain under the fence and was able to get two loops around our friend it what must have been record time if ever it had been previously measured. once secured to the truck and my narrow tail was back in the bed the signal was given and with a huge roar and crash we were off towing our yellow clad friend behind us sparking and clanging the whole way home. We had done it and no other teams had finished this last part. After arriving at our destination we had the chance to inspect the fruits of our labors to discover that we had only managed to relocate 95% of our red-afro'd
Later the next evening as I lay my soaked brain onto my pillow a grin quickly began to spread.
It was official. We were back in business.
and business was GOOOOOOOOOOOOOD!
I would like to take a quick moment to thank all who have followed the story so far and especially to our winners. You know who you are. We will be printing the shirts later this week and will email you when they are in route...
Unwashed masses hysteria...
Wishing for the last slice of pizza and getting the crust. That is what it felt like.
A big freagin joke. To what degree are we holding ourselves to unrealistic criteria. Just striving to fit into some mold whose maker had long since forgotten.
What are we really trying to do?
Where are we going?
and how the hell do you lose a shoe at a bar?
Most things are unimpressive and the precious others just seem tainted some how. Everything seemed to be falling into some strange machine like rhythm. It was like all the flavor had been chewed out of the bubble gum and only the action of blowing the fleeting bubble remained as its sole purpose. How and when did things get this scripted?
I thought we were trying to bring about some glorious anarchy just to get those in charge to scratch their heads and wonder when they lost touch. Instead we were turning into this side show act that persons would travel to see just as quickly as they would watch a sports accident on instant replay.
We needed to shake things up again and knew how to do it.
The Scavenger Hunt of the Damned...
1) Port'o Pottie
2) Ronald Statue
3) Exchange Student
One night. The only prize: Bragging Rights. It could happen.
So we broke into five teams of two.
The rancher and I had the edge as we already had access to one of the items so we decided to let the other teams have a sporting chance and agreed to give them a three hour head start and discuss strategy over beers.
We were in the middle of discussing how many words rhyme with stunt when we got the phone call. The first two teams had already gotten the first item and trying to find a school directory to get the address to the nearest third item.
Our item three was busy learning the nuances of the American version of English with our rhyming game and could hold his own at quarters. Freagin Aussie was like a big Texan and fit right in when it came to raising a little Cain. I guess it could have been considered cheating but Bill wouldn't let us near the girl from Germany again as we had already ruined his chances of ever going out with her again.
I guess we could get started
The truck was already warmed up and our goals were easy. The tilt trailer was hooked up and we were on our way. The first stop was the baseball stadium just behind the neighborhood.
The trick was to figure out which one had been most recently cleaned. After the customary game of paper, rock, scissors it was decided that I would do the inspecting.
After some gagging our target was set and the chains securely wrapped around it. The winch screeched to life and we were in business. This was too easy I thought when it happened.
Apparently no amount of planning could get one ready to react to this type of situation. Just as the throne was sliding towards the tilt trailer it got stuck on a ripple in the asphalt of the walking trail and flipped almost completely over as the chains slid up to almost the top of the plastic cubicle. The entire trailer was now covered in what could only be described as industrial smurf poo. We all managed to dodge the odor causing agents to discover that stealth was no longer our friend. We managed to pull it the rest of the way onto the trailer by hand using the still attached chain while tucking our mouths and noses into the tops of our shirts. We looked like a cross between ninjas and stall mucks. The most amazing part was that no one even noticed. No lights went on. There was just this erie silence. The kind of quiet you get when you ask a fluffy individual if they are expecting or when you find out your neighbors door looks a lot like your own at three in the morning.
Two down one to go...
Our friend wearing big red shoes was standing there waving and smiling like he had always been as long as any of us could remember. I had lost track of how many dreams that face had turned into nightmares during my childhood. This was what I was considered pay back. I volunteered to jump the fence and did so as gracefully as possible at that point of the evening. Luckily I felt no pain when I ran head first into the three horse carousel.
This was going to be difficult. The bolts at the base were too wide for any wrench I could carry and no pry bar could be fit between the weld marks. It was clear that caveman tactics would have to be employed and we would be the opposite of subtle. I was passed the chain under the fence and was able to get two loops around our friend it what must have been record time if ever it had been previously measured. once secured to the truck and my narrow tail was back in the bed the signal was given and with a huge roar and crash we were off towing our yellow clad friend behind us sparking and clanging the whole way home. We had done it and no other teams had finished this last part. After arriving at our destination we had the chance to inspect the fruits of our labors to discover that we had only managed to relocate 95% of our red-afro'd
Later the next evening as I lay my soaked brain onto my pillow a grin quickly began to spread.
It was official. We were back in business.
and business was GOOOOOOOOOOOOOD!
I would like to take a quick moment to thank all who have followed the story so far and especially to our winners. You know who you are. We will be printing the shirts later this week and will email you when they are in route...
Friday, December 17, 2010
Electric Watermelon Wings
Moving slowly as quickly as possible.
Employing magical physics.
Arguing in contradictions
Making feeble efforts never had required so much strength. I t didn't feel like i was running backwards as much as it felt like I was taking part in motionless action.
Remaining positive always came easy at the small cost of having my sanity questioned.
So two of the crew had been arrested for trying to steal a Men at Work sign during their lunch break. After getting the full story it boiled down to them being bored and wanting to try sneaking around in plain sight. So now our group's intentions were not as much in question as our over all intelligence quotient. All we could think of was now who will our designated drivers be? We did not have bail money set aside in the budget yet, but this seemed like an excellent time to think of such things. That feeling of digging a hole in wet sand was all too familiar. Accounting was never a great strength of ours nor was forethought. Freagin' details!!!
So trying to convince the court that this was just a harmless prank was not as easy as when we discussed it on the ride over there. The fact that I could not find a pair of shoes to wear to court did not help us either. The guards at the metal detector did not seem very impressed with the multiple church keys on our key chains or the buckles plastered with beer logos we had to run through their machine. I was not aware that body piercings would set off the alarm that easily or that the guards would have to see them right then and there. So after our fifteen minute delay at the door and one of the guards suggesting deportation we were in.
The judge was on a roll till he saw us and the defendants approach. I was aware at how swift the law was being interpreted but was more amazed at how quickly it was being enforced. I am still not sure if we were even asked to enter a plea after one of our crew dropped a bag of skittles on the courtroom floor while the other made horny middle school faces at the court reporter. The more amazing part of the day is that we were not held in contempt of court. The judge could barely hold back the disdain in his voice when he set the bail at half a million and the court date as far out as the clerk's agenda would go. A few things were evident. Women do not like having tongues waggled at them at their place of employ, you should find the end of the bag of skittles that has the little scoring, flip flops are never dressy, and most of all we needed funding.
So he was an ex-marine turned hippie turned green peace warrior turned crazy old guy with a machine shop and lots of free time. All I knew is that this grey guy was the perfect fit and properly anesthetized to believe in the mission. In the end it did not take much more convincing and the deal was made when we mentioned sticking it to the man.
We solidified his membership over a case of Keystone and half a pizza...
Much like a penny racer we were off with no real direction but interesting to watch...
I hope that all of you have been enjoying this story as much as I have enjoyed writing it.
As promised Alien Burro is having its first giveaway!!!
We will be printing the first batch of Alien Burro Free the Flamingos shirts in the next couple of weeks. In order to get your name in the hat just become a follower. We will be picking three from the membership to receive the first run shirts with an authentic Alien Burro signature on New Year's Eve. Rumor has it that they will be worth two shirts someday...
Big Love for all of you and thank you for your support in this new endeavor!!!
RELEASE THE PINK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Employing magical physics.
Arguing in contradictions
Making feeble efforts never had required so much strength. I t didn't feel like i was running backwards as much as it felt like I was taking part in motionless action.
Remaining positive always came easy at the small cost of having my sanity questioned.
So two of the crew had been arrested for trying to steal a Men at Work sign during their lunch break. After getting the full story it boiled down to them being bored and wanting to try sneaking around in plain sight. So now our group's intentions were not as much in question as our over all intelligence quotient. All we could think of was now who will our designated drivers be? We did not have bail money set aside in the budget yet, but this seemed like an excellent time to think of such things. That feeling of digging a hole in wet sand was all too familiar. Accounting was never a great strength of ours nor was forethought. Freagin' details!!!
So trying to convince the court that this was just a harmless prank was not as easy as when we discussed it on the ride over there. The fact that I could not find a pair of shoes to wear to court did not help us either. The guards at the metal detector did not seem very impressed with the multiple church keys on our key chains or the buckles plastered with beer logos we had to run through their machine. I was not aware that body piercings would set off the alarm that easily or that the guards would have to see them right then and there. So after our fifteen minute delay at the door and one of the guards suggesting deportation we were in.
The judge was on a roll till he saw us and the defendants approach. I was aware at how swift the law was being interpreted but was more amazed at how quickly it was being enforced. I am still not sure if we were even asked to enter a plea after one of our crew dropped a bag of skittles on the courtroom floor while the other made horny middle school faces at the court reporter. The more amazing part of the day is that we were not held in contempt of court. The judge could barely hold back the disdain in his voice when he set the bail at half a million and the court date as far out as the clerk's agenda would go. A few things were evident. Women do not like having tongues waggled at them at their place of employ, you should find the end of the bag of skittles that has the little scoring, flip flops are never dressy, and most of all we needed funding.
So he was an ex-marine turned hippie turned green peace warrior turned crazy old guy with a machine shop and lots of free time. All I knew is that this grey guy was the perfect fit and properly anesthetized to believe in the mission. In the end it did not take much more convincing and the deal was made when we mentioned sticking it to the man.
We solidified his membership over a case of Keystone and half a pizza...
Much like a penny racer we were off with no real direction but interesting to watch...
I hope that all of you have been enjoying this story as much as I have enjoyed writing it.
As promised Alien Burro is having its first giveaway!!!
We will be printing the first batch of Alien Burro Free the Flamingos shirts in the next couple of weeks. In order to get your name in the hat just become a follower. We will be picking three from the membership to receive the first run shirts with an authentic Alien Burro signature on New Year's Eve. Rumor has it that they will be worth two shirts someday...
Big Love for all of you and thank you for your support in this new endeavor!!!
RELEASE THE PINK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Corporate Rodeo
Keeping it real via instant messenger...
Faded to make it look worn, or shabby chic.
Power to the low tech!!!
Today's Rugged individual would have been described as the out-doors type just a few decades ago. Have we really gone soft?
"Give me just a sec. I am getting a text", nomad in the SUV.
So many questions and doubts were flying around in my head and always came back to center...
Why the Pink?
Why not the Pink?
Could I do this?
Couldn't I do this?
Was I built for speed or comfort?
Doubt and worry have always been a part of our wiring. So many of us would just stop rebelling and feel defeated that when judging ourselves as sell outs. Does that really make sense? We are evolving. Not in the sense of growing a third arm or sprouting wings and an extra testicle, but in the sense of allowing our human ingenuity to make some activities obsolete. We should realize, however, that this does not absolve us from all physical activity but should bring us closer to making the most improvements with the least effort. Ideas so simple can complicate themselves before fruition if we allow ourselves to be influenced by others' view on failure.
So we ended up trading the borrowed goats for a case of Shiner and a free one day rental of a margarita machine and moon bounce at the Beeville Flea Market. That day was filled with celebration that further solidified the bonds. If these were the spoils of war then recruiting would be easier than we thought. Berzerkers didn't have it this good.
Eventually the sun set and the crowd thinned when the moon bounce and margarita machine were picked up. Only the core members and a half dozen or so of interested recruits remained. The group was turning into its own social event and could easily cover it's tracks with the most wonderful of alibis for our presence or absence from certain other happenings. Local Sheriffs' departments do not typically get alarmed by parties out in the country when a portion of their off duty staff is tacking part in the festivities. Freagin beautiful. It also helped the sense of purpose in some perverse way.
"So what's next?", asked the rosy-cheeked rancher.
"non-lethal tactics", smug Nesto.
The look of shock passed on the faces of all seated within ear shot and a quick explanation was definitely in order.
"We aren't trying to kill anyone but accidents do happen. Can any of us really afford to get thrown in for life? Not me! I saw this documentary the other night on crowd control used around the world"...
I could tell I was loosing them.
"How do you think they round up the hippies on college campuses when all hell breaks loose?"
In hind site this seemed like the flimsiest of arguments to be posing a group that was tasking itself with the release of Flamingos into the Wild of the Southern States...
The crowd accepted my argument and moved on to other topics like bull riding and real breasts vs. implants.
Can we really lose ourselves in an idea?
Can we lose ourselves in a series of events?
Achieving a goal is not always as easy to set out upon when the goal is unclear or changing as we go along. Was it freedom for these birds or anarchy that I wanted? Did it really matter as long as I kept moving forward?
I had to re-center the best way I knew of.
No one else was at the pool that early. Lane lines were up and the water was like liquid glass. I waded in and took a deep breath and pushed myself off of the wall. The feeling of the rushing water and air leaving my lungs was hypnotic. Four strokes, breath... Kind of like rinse and repeat it seemed like such a mindless and liberating action. For a small period of time all was in focus. Four more, breath... Where was I going with this? See the wall. Flip, spin, and push off. Bubbles and water rushing. After a half hour or so of this slow motion ballet everything was clear my mind sharp, my thoughts focused, and my shoulders burning...
The drive home from the gym was almost non-existent. I readied myself for the days ahead and had my coffee. I was the very definition of calm.
The day flew by and that night I dreamt of millions of the fuchsia-feathered wings taking flight.
The road ahead is still unmapped but the destination is clear.
Faded to make it look worn, or shabby chic.
Power to the low tech!!!
Today's Rugged individual would have been described as the out-doors type just a few decades ago. Have we really gone soft?
"Give me just a sec. I am getting a text", nomad in the SUV.
So many questions and doubts were flying around in my head and always came back to center...
Why the Pink?
Why not the Pink?
Could I do this?
Couldn't I do this?
Was I built for speed or comfort?
Doubt and worry have always been a part of our wiring. So many of us would just stop rebelling and feel defeated that when judging ourselves as sell outs. Does that really make sense? We are evolving. Not in the sense of growing a third arm or sprouting wings and an extra testicle, but in the sense of allowing our human ingenuity to make some activities obsolete. We should realize, however, that this does not absolve us from all physical activity but should bring us closer to making the most improvements with the least effort. Ideas so simple can complicate themselves before fruition if we allow ourselves to be influenced by others' view on failure.
So we ended up trading the borrowed goats for a case of Shiner and a free one day rental of a margarita machine and moon bounce at the Beeville Flea Market. That day was filled with celebration that further solidified the bonds. If these were the spoils of war then recruiting would be easier than we thought. Berzerkers didn't have it this good.
Eventually the sun set and the crowd thinned when the moon bounce and margarita machine were picked up. Only the core members and a half dozen or so of interested recruits remained. The group was turning into its own social event and could easily cover it's tracks with the most wonderful of alibis for our presence or absence from certain other happenings. Local Sheriffs' departments do not typically get alarmed by parties out in the country when a portion of their off duty staff is tacking part in the festivities. Freagin beautiful. It also helped the sense of purpose in some perverse way.
"So what's next?", asked the rosy-cheeked rancher.
"non-lethal tactics", smug Nesto.
The look of shock passed on the faces of all seated within ear shot and a quick explanation was definitely in order.
"We aren't trying to kill anyone but accidents do happen. Can any of us really afford to get thrown in for life? Not me! I saw this documentary the other night on crowd control used around the world"...
I could tell I was loosing them.
"How do you think they round up the hippies on college campuses when all hell breaks loose?"
In hind site this seemed like the flimsiest of arguments to be posing a group that was tasking itself with the release of Flamingos into the Wild of the Southern States...
The crowd accepted my argument and moved on to other topics like bull riding and real breasts vs. implants.
Can we really lose ourselves in an idea?
Can we lose ourselves in a series of events?
Achieving a goal is not always as easy to set out upon when the goal is unclear or changing as we go along. Was it freedom for these birds or anarchy that I wanted? Did it really matter as long as I kept moving forward?
I had to re-center the best way I knew of.
No one else was at the pool that early. Lane lines were up and the water was like liquid glass. I waded in and took a deep breath and pushed myself off of the wall. The feeling of the rushing water and air leaving my lungs was hypnotic. Four strokes, breath... Kind of like rinse and repeat it seemed like such a mindless and liberating action. For a small period of time all was in focus. Four more, breath... Where was I going with this? See the wall. Flip, spin, and push off. Bubbles and water rushing. After a half hour or so of this slow motion ballet everything was clear my mind sharp, my thoughts focused, and my shoulders burning...
The drive home from the gym was almost non-existent. I readied myself for the days ahead and had my coffee. I was the very definition of calm.
The day flew by and that night I dreamt of millions of the fuchsia-feathered wings taking flight.
The road ahead is still unmapped but the destination is clear.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Up the Pineapple Tree
Smoke screens do not work if you are driving in reverse.
All this talk about what height a bar should be set at is making me thirsty.
I swear there was a girl here...
Words to live by.
I guess I could have pushed myself a little harder but was I gonna really take myself seriously this time. Just the thought of some of the security guards I had seen trying to chase me was enough to make me want to get off of the treadmill and go grab a burger. So a little part of me was vane. Freagin sue me. Being at the gym was kind of a stretch for me. I mean I thought I looked good for a skinny kid with too much time on his hands. So I would go to the gym at ridiculously early hours and call it being dedicated when in fact I just didn't want anybody seeing how much or rather how little weight I lifted. I was not studious enough to be a nerd but not honest enough with myself to accept the label of Dork.
That morning was just like any other morning that month. Wake up when it was dark or rather just not go to sleep n the first place. Throw on some shorts and a shirt. Drive to the gym. I was starting to get bored with the routine. Maybe today I should vary it a little. I turned into a 24/7 diner I use to hang out at in high school. The menu and the smell had not changed. There was a huge difference that spooked me to say the least. About 90% of the clientele this morning was the local police department's finest.
Was I insane?
just my luck.
I asked for a table near the back as was the habit from long ago. While waiting for my pot of coffee and chicken-fried steak breakfast of champions I over heard the table of blue closest to me talking about a recent case and comparing it to an ongoing investigation surrounding the abduction of non other than Pinkey.
For sure my luck.
Who would have known that they counted the flock so often?
Needless to say that breakfast was done quickly and the bill paid on the way out.
Why was I so nervous? There was not even a sketch of the perpetrator.
Was I being followed?
This is where the paranoia sets in. I was questioning any and every little difference from one day to another. Like when you cheated on a test in school and just knew you would get caught but never did and woke up in a cold sweat after watching a detective show and dreaming that your DNA would be matched to that found on a napkin found at the scene of the alleged purchase of said test answers.
Get a grip Nesto! No need to answer those voices in your head.
There was no time for doubt.
Thank goodness for Tuesday night. Just the thing I needed to calm my nerves.
After the usual phone calls and ATM visit I arrived at the saloon to find my comrades elated to see me after three weeks of not showing. No questions were ever asked of where I had been or doing. Simple acceptance was the code. So I sat at the usual stool and sipped a can that should have been filled with motor oil based on its size. The usual had never tasted so good. After the mandatory two. More money was placed in the jukebox after turning it off to erase all previous selections. The bar seemed a little less crowded than usual and lent itself to more conversation. After a couple games of pool and a few of darts it was time to call it a night...
Once home it was time to take stock of what I was embarking on.
Like a lemming asking for directions from a sloth I was off.
So many questions aside from the usual why and when.
I needed to blow of steam and knew just the thing.
I did what any other normal human being would have done.
With a dozen eggs and a six pack I went into the backyard and lobbed eggs as far down the block as I could get them. The first one was kinda week and went maybe four houses down. The rest were much more successful and even set off a car alarm at one point.
I felt better.
During our moments of stress we tend to go back to what makes us feel safe and warm.
Sweet Sweet Chaos
After polishing off the sixth and a failed search for snacks it was time to turn in. Before doing so one had to set an alibi.
I ran out to the truck and grabbed my backpack which seemed to be as dusty and untouched as the titanic. I grabbed one of the textbooks and after taking the shrink wrap off I left it opened with an old notebook from last semester on the kitchen table. How studious I was in their eyes.
If they only knew that they were sleeping a few yards away from the Flamingo-snatcher.
Shower
Brushing teeth
Sleep...
All this talk about what height a bar should be set at is making me thirsty.
I swear there was a girl here...
Words to live by.
I guess I could have pushed myself a little harder but was I gonna really take myself seriously this time. Just the thought of some of the security guards I had seen trying to chase me was enough to make me want to get off of the treadmill and go grab a burger. So a little part of me was vane. Freagin sue me. Being at the gym was kind of a stretch for me. I mean I thought I looked good for a skinny kid with too much time on his hands. So I would go to the gym at ridiculously early hours and call it being dedicated when in fact I just didn't want anybody seeing how much or rather how little weight I lifted. I was not studious enough to be a nerd but not honest enough with myself to accept the label of Dork.
That morning was just like any other morning that month. Wake up when it was dark or rather just not go to sleep n the first place. Throw on some shorts and a shirt. Drive to the gym. I was starting to get bored with the routine. Maybe today I should vary it a little. I turned into a 24/7 diner I use to hang out at in high school. The menu and the smell had not changed. There was a huge difference that spooked me to say the least. About 90% of the clientele this morning was the local police department's finest.
Was I insane?
just my luck.
I asked for a table near the back as was the habit from long ago. While waiting for my pot of coffee and chicken-fried steak breakfast of champions I over heard the table of blue closest to me talking about a recent case and comparing it to an ongoing investigation surrounding the abduction of non other than Pinkey.
For sure my luck.
Who would have known that they counted the flock so often?
Needless to say that breakfast was done quickly and the bill paid on the way out.
Why was I so nervous? There was not even a sketch of the perpetrator.
Was I being followed?
This is where the paranoia sets in. I was questioning any and every little difference from one day to another. Like when you cheated on a test in school and just knew you would get caught but never did and woke up in a cold sweat after watching a detective show and dreaming that your DNA would be matched to that found on a napkin found at the scene of the alleged purchase of said test answers.
Get a grip Nesto! No need to answer those voices in your head.
There was no time for doubt.
Thank goodness for Tuesday night. Just the thing I needed to calm my nerves.
After the usual phone calls and ATM visit I arrived at the saloon to find my comrades elated to see me after three weeks of not showing. No questions were ever asked of where I had been or doing. Simple acceptance was the code. So I sat at the usual stool and sipped a can that should have been filled with motor oil based on its size. The usual had never tasted so good. After the mandatory two. More money was placed in the jukebox after turning it off to erase all previous selections. The bar seemed a little less crowded than usual and lent itself to more conversation. After a couple games of pool and a few of darts it was time to call it a night...
Once home it was time to take stock of what I was embarking on.
Like a lemming asking for directions from a sloth I was off.
So many questions aside from the usual why and when.
I needed to blow of steam and knew just the thing.
I did what any other normal human being would have done.
With a dozen eggs and a six pack I went into the backyard and lobbed eggs as far down the block as I could get them. The first one was kinda week and went maybe four houses down. The rest were much more successful and even set off a car alarm at one point.
I felt better.
During our moments of stress we tend to go back to what makes us feel safe and warm.
Sweet Sweet Chaos
After polishing off the sixth and a failed search for snacks it was time to turn in. Before doing so one had to set an alibi.
I ran out to the truck and grabbed my backpack which seemed to be as dusty and untouched as the titanic. I grabbed one of the textbooks and after taking the shrink wrap off I left it opened with an old notebook from last semester on the kitchen table. How studious I was in their eyes.
If they only knew that they were sleeping a few yards away from the Flamingo-snatcher.
Shower
Brushing teeth
Sleep...
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Teflon Glue
Putting your best foot forward should not be the only thing you do correctly each day...
There should be some degree of follow-through and consistency every once in a while.
So bad habits are not as easy to start as nervous ticks but I am sure they can be just as entertaining when taken totally out of context...
Is this the case?
So the following, although motley, was kind of impressive. So a large portion of those present could not remember exactly why they agreed, but that apparently did not stop them. This kind of blind devotion could only be appreciated by the military and large corporations. Not quite the cream of the crop but on our non-budget we could not be as picky.
After the initial four rounds of drinks our meeting could begin.
Again I was to motivate their continued allegiance by explaining why we were there. how was I to convince this many NRA members that setting something loose and not shooting it afterwards was a good and noble idea? I would have had an easier time convincing an old shipmate that he was in fact dancing with a woman in that bar in TJ. (She is just really muscular...)
Here goes nothing, again.
"The food chain. That's right the food chain", where was I going with this?
"We have a bunch of guys in suits sitting behind desks thinking that they can not only limit our second amendments rights, but flaunt a possible meal in our face while charging us admission to take our kids to look at what we are wondering how to bring down and what would the taste be. I say we teach them a lesson by freeing what we all know to be an unfit dish and bad eating. This will raise a few eyebrows and a little hell in the process." I was really glad no one was lucid enough to question the flimsiest of arguments I was somehow buying myself.
Oh well, I went for broke...
"Who here is with me? Those pansies won't know what hit em'"
Would you believe these guys cheered at this point?
They did and I could not have asked for a scarier group to have convinced. This was going to be interesting.
The next few weekends Where mainly about planning and trying not to draw too much attention to ourselves as well as keeping Pinky fed.
I did not want to become too formal in our association since this action was being driven by dreams and pension for chaos. All at once it dawned on me, what we needed was a dry run / completely insane gesture to know if we were all willing to follow through.
About two miles from the house in San Antonio there was a field whose owner had refused to sell to developers and just to further provoke them kept a large group of farrow goats on. I don't think I ever saw such a great opportunity for havoc.
After a long night of joyousness I thought it would be a good initiation and kind of a funny idea at the time to cause a little pandemonium. Once the gas station on the corner had closed and all the lights were out we saw our opportunity. We loaded up two pickups with anyone still able to walk and had our designated drivers drive up to the gates where our plan would soon unfold. The four of us jumped over the chain link fence with two short lengths of rope each and made a mad dash after the hoofed group.
Hog tying a goat is hard enough without throwing beer and whiskey into the mix but somehow each of us managed to get one a piece without getting too beat up and somehow managed a drunken fireman's carry of the squirming quarry to the gate where one of the trucks had already chained itself to and with a small push on the accelerator the gate was opened and two men and tow goats lurched into both of the waiting pickups. Sweet victory was on our faces as it seemed that we had pulled this off with no one noticing...
We were ready. The only question, what do we do with four goats on a Sunday morning?
You will not know how much you can stuff in your face till you have actually found out by biting off more than you can chew. Was I drinking from the fire hose or grabbing the bull by the horn? Either way I was ready for a fun ride..
There should be some degree of follow-through and consistency every once in a while.
So bad habits are not as easy to start as nervous ticks but I am sure they can be just as entertaining when taken totally out of context...
Is this the case?
So the following, although motley, was kind of impressive. So a large portion of those present could not remember exactly why they agreed, but that apparently did not stop them. This kind of blind devotion could only be appreciated by the military and large corporations. Not quite the cream of the crop but on our non-budget we could not be as picky.
After the initial four rounds of drinks our meeting could begin.
Again I was to motivate their continued allegiance by explaining why we were there. how was I to convince this many NRA members that setting something loose and not shooting it afterwards was a good and noble idea? I would have had an easier time convincing an old shipmate that he was in fact dancing with a woman in that bar in TJ. (She is just really muscular...)
Here goes nothing, again.
"The food chain. That's right the food chain", where was I going with this?
"We have a bunch of guys in suits sitting behind desks thinking that they can not only limit our second amendments rights, but flaunt a possible meal in our face while charging us admission to take our kids to look at what we are wondering how to bring down and what would the taste be. I say we teach them a lesson by freeing what we all know to be an unfit dish and bad eating. This will raise a few eyebrows and a little hell in the process." I was really glad no one was lucid enough to question the flimsiest of arguments I was somehow buying myself.
Oh well, I went for broke...
"Who here is with me? Those pansies won't know what hit em'"
Would you believe these guys cheered at this point?
They did and I could not have asked for a scarier group to have convinced. This was going to be interesting.
The next few weekends Where mainly about planning and trying not to draw too much attention to ourselves as well as keeping Pinky fed.
I did not want to become too formal in our association since this action was being driven by dreams and pension for chaos. All at once it dawned on me, what we needed was a dry run / completely insane gesture to know if we were all willing to follow through.
About two miles from the house in San Antonio there was a field whose owner had refused to sell to developers and just to further provoke them kept a large group of farrow goats on. I don't think I ever saw such a great opportunity for havoc.
After a long night of joyousness I thought it would be a good initiation and kind of a funny idea at the time to cause a little pandemonium. Once the gas station on the corner had closed and all the lights were out we saw our opportunity. We loaded up two pickups with anyone still able to walk and had our designated drivers drive up to the gates where our plan would soon unfold. The four of us jumped over the chain link fence with two short lengths of rope each and made a mad dash after the hoofed group.
Hog tying a goat is hard enough without throwing beer and whiskey into the mix but somehow each of us managed to get one a piece without getting too beat up and somehow managed a drunken fireman's carry of the squirming quarry to the gate where one of the trucks had already chained itself to and with a small push on the accelerator the gate was opened and two men and tow goats lurched into both of the waiting pickups. Sweet victory was on our faces as it seemed that we had pulled this off with no one noticing...
We were ready. The only question, what do we do with four goats on a Sunday morning?
You will not know how much you can stuff in your face till you have actually found out by biting off more than you can chew. Was I drinking from the fire hose or grabbing the bull by the horn? Either way I was ready for a fun ride..
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Cartoon Staples
"Stumble stumble crawl crawl stagger hop run walk stagger stagger fall...", Yellow Beard's wisdom.
So nothing worth fighting for will ever be easy. What doesn't kill you will only make you stronger. If you don't know it half drunk and hung over then you just don't know it.
Any of these can easily inspire even the most defeatist amongst us, and motivate all to join in chanting toga toga toga.
Let us look at the bright side of our situation for a moment and think that it can always get worse or rather I can only go up from here.
So all we needed was a plan, funding, and enough liquid courage to embalm Jaba.
Recruiting efforts were kept mainly away from campus and places of employ as this would lead the powers that be straight back to us. A simple choice had to be made. What caliber of comrades were we looking for and to what lengths would we go to ensure that they were loyal on our current budget? We needed individuals with different sets of expertise, backgrounds, and anonymity.
We had the planning and real life experience that the Cowboy possessed.
We had my drive and, for lack of a better word, vision.
All we needed was someone with veterinary skills, another with good connections to the animal kingdom and or zoological society, a small group of willing soldiers, and finally some pissed off ex-green peace member willing to fund this endeavour.
and what better place to find such individuals than a rancher's birthday party.
We arrived at what I like to call the Yosemite Sam Convention about mid afternoon with a casket size cooler full of ambrosia and our agenda. The conversation started innocently enough when asked about how those around the poker table felt about wrongful imprisonment. Since a large portion of the table had had some sort of brush with the law, the talk seemed rather one sided and even turned into a stroll down memory lane for a few of us. My only real experience of the US system of law was the knowledge of how much the fine for pointing the wrong finger at a law enforcement officer was. ($97.50 if you must know).
Again I was out of my element and only my passion for the eventual freedom of the pink gave me the courage to go further with what I was ultimately proposing.
"Are you Freagin' serious?!?", says the mostly anesthetized birthday boy.
"Yes I am", was my simple answer.
After the roar of the table's laughter had quieted, I went on to describe what I was proposing. I found myself hoping that most of them would be too far gone to remember the talk if they were not interested. The knowledge that the men willing to help would only remember that they had said yes and would follow through regardless of what sobriety would have them do otherwise was a comforting thought.
How slowly the picture comes into focus as if needing to be warmed up by the morning sun. Fuzzy memories and segments of conversations seem to take just as long to assemble.
Had I really gotten a following? Did some of them say yes?
Where were my boots and why were my jeans in the pool?
So nothing worth fighting for will ever be easy. What doesn't kill you will only make you stronger. If you don't know it half drunk and hung over then you just don't know it.
Any of these can easily inspire even the most defeatist amongst us, and motivate all to join in chanting toga toga toga.
Let us look at the bright side of our situation for a moment and think that it can always get worse or rather I can only go up from here.
So all we needed was a plan, funding, and enough liquid courage to embalm Jaba.
Recruiting efforts were kept mainly away from campus and places of employ as this would lead the powers that be straight back to us. A simple choice had to be made. What caliber of comrades were we looking for and to what lengths would we go to ensure that they were loyal on our current budget? We needed individuals with different sets of expertise, backgrounds, and anonymity.
We had the planning and real life experience that the Cowboy possessed.
We had my drive and, for lack of a better word, vision.
All we needed was someone with veterinary skills, another with good connections to the animal kingdom and or zoological society, a small group of willing soldiers, and finally some pissed off ex-green peace member willing to fund this endeavour.
and what better place to find such individuals than a rancher's birthday party.
We arrived at what I like to call the Yosemite Sam Convention about mid afternoon with a casket size cooler full of ambrosia and our agenda. The conversation started innocently enough when asked about how those around the poker table felt about wrongful imprisonment. Since a large portion of the table had had some sort of brush with the law, the talk seemed rather one sided and even turned into a stroll down memory lane for a few of us. My only real experience of the US system of law was the knowledge of how much the fine for pointing the wrong finger at a law enforcement officer was. ($97.50 if you must know).
Again I was out of my element and only my passion for the eventual freedom of the pink gave me the courage to go further with what I was ultimately proposing.
"Are you Freagin' serious?!?", says the mostly anesthetized birthday boy.
"Yes I am", was my simple answer.
After the roar of the table's laughter had quieted, I went on to describe what I was proposing. I found myself hoping that most of them would be too far gone to remember the talk if they were not interested. The knowledge that the men willing to help would only remember that they had said yes and would follow through regardless of what sobriety would have them do otherwise was a comforting thought.
How slowly the picture comes into focus as if needing to be warmed up by the morning sun. Fuzzy memories and segments of conversations seem to take just as long to assemble.
Had I really gotten a following? Did some of them say yes?
Where were my boots and why were my jeans in the pool?
Thursday, November 25, 2010
You Did What?!?!
Deja Vu... Again?
Getting into a good routine can be a little nerve racking because anything that can go wrong will when you are least expecting it so comfort should be a great indicator that things are gonna really suck...
So as long as you feel like hell is at your heals you must be doing a great job.
Still not convinced?
Let us take a closer look at where we are... How many things would need to happen for things to go completely side ways for you? With the aforementioned logic, if only one piece needs to not fit to ruin the puzzle then you are where you need to be.
No pressure.
"Dude you gotta get here quick!", utters the voice on the other line.
My first thought is the fugitive walking on the side of an interstate somewhere.
I don't ask why.
I just drive faster and hope that Texas State Troopers take extended lunch breaks.
After what seems like an eternity I make it to the gate and to my surprise no one is waiting to open it and instead the lock and chain are draped over the side of the fence as a sign to come in. So I hop out and open the gate, drive through, and jump back out to close it with a quickness of a NASCAR pit stop. Of course it only seemed that way to me and must have looked like some sort of modern dance minus the rhythm to any one watching.
I get to the field by the watering hole and my friend is holding a beer in one hand and a duck call in the other almost in tears from laughter. Apparently he had more free time than most.
He signals for me to stay quiet and he blows the duck call. Pinky bolts out of a group of bushes and commences to do this crazy mating dance chasing my friend to a deer blind that looks like a tripod on steroids and starts to dance around a feeder just a couple of yards away. After Pinky finishes his dance and goes back to the spot where we had been taking turns dumping brine shrimp for him, I ask my friend if that was why he called. To which he answers with the affirmative.
Several things were obvious. The bird needed a companion, my friend was having fun, I needed to get a duck call and a beer, and a decission must made.
Pinky needs his whole flock and we were going to get it.
Getting into a good routine can be a little nerve racking because anything that can go wrong will when you are least expecting it so comfort should be a great indicator that things are gonna really suck...
So as long as you feel like hell is at your heals you must be doing a great job.
Still not convinced?
Let us take a closer look at where we are... How many things would need to happen for things to go completely side ways for you? With the aforementioned logic, if only one piece needs to not fit to ruin the puzzle then you are where you need to be.
No pressure.
"Dude you gotta get here quick!", utters the voice on the other line.
My first thought is the fugitive walking on the side of an interstate somewhere.
I don't ask why.
I just drive faster and hope that Texas State Troopers take extended lunch breaks.
After what seems like an eternity I make it to the gate and to my surprise no one is waiting to open it and instead the lock and chain are draped over the side of the fence as a sign to come in. So I hop out and open the gate, drive through, and jump back out to close it with a quickness of a NASCAR pit stop. Of course it only seemed that way to me and must have looked like some sort of modern dance minus the rhythm to any one watching.
I get to the field by the watering hole and my friend is holding a beer in one hand and a duck call in the other almost in tears from laughter. Apparently he had more free time than most.
He signals for me to stay quiet and he blows the duck call. Pinky bolts out of a group of bushes and commences to do this crazy mating dance chasing my friend to a deer blind that looks like a tripod on steroids and starts to dance around a feeder just a couple of yards away. After Pinky finishes his dance and goes back to the spot where we had been taking turns dumping brine shrimp for him, I ask my friend if that was why he called. To which he answers with the affirmative.
Several things were obvious. The bird needed a companion, my friend was having fun, I needed to get a duck call and a beer, and a decission must made.
Pinky needs his whole flock and we were going to get it.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
You Can't Have Just One
This was going to be a tough sell. Even by Nesto standards this was truly way out of left field. I mean I had done some silly stuff before that set the bar pretty high for any of those around me for any length of time to be surprised by the unexpected.
My sisters could sit through a night of improve and comedy and start yawning. My fault? Maybe.
My friend the Cowboy had been used to my insanity and had stuck by me for almost eight years at that point. He was the older brother I never had and would have probably kicked my ass had we really been related. This was gonna be one of the countless number of times I had and would ask him for help or an opinion. In this case I would get both. So I called him when I was already half way there.
Me, "It's warm out and not even the closest neighbors can see the watering hole...
Look I'll figure out a feeding schedule and everything. All I need is some time to figure this out." I must have sounded like a kid trying to convince his dad that a hamster would make a great pet (which incidentally I had done about nine years earlier with my dad about 7 weeks before it died when I was entertained by how much it would eat if I didn't limit its food intake)
"You have really lost your mind. Do you know what they'll do to us if this bird is tracked here?", uttered the Very unimpressed brother. "Do you even know what this thing eats?"
"Of course. The Caribbean species eats mainly brine shrimp which I can find a supply of and flies which the cattle will provide.", says the true genius.
"How the hell do you know that?", asked the still-not-buying-the plan-rancher-dude.
"I read the sign in front of the freagin' cage at the zoo... Look are you gonna help or not? Pinky needs a place to crash.", almost-smelling-victory-man
"Just for a while!", him.
I made it to the ranch in record time and met my friend at the gate to the Overby place. He freaked just a little when he saw the passenger and opened the gate for us to drive in.
Pinky looked pleased to be off of the highway where I had been trying to keep him out of sight under a sarape I had picked up in TJ. After heading East on the second sendero we turned South towards the watering hole. Most of the cattle were on the opposite side of the water and did not even seem to notice we were there.
Kind of a strange sanctuary for something so far from its home, but he seemed happy to be in the water, and got very excited when I started emptying the packages of brine shrimp I had gotten at the Wally World at 2 AM. No one even batted an eye when I bought the entire stock of the petite freeze-dried crustaceans.
Had I really lost my mind or was this just another seemingly random act of curiosity mixed with insanity? Like when I had worn the jockstrap with an over-sized cup under my work clothes at the office just to see who would be looking at the bulge.
Total count for that experiment: twelve women and three men.
Soon all will become clear and the beer will wear off...
So what was my plan?
Cooler emptied...
My sisters could sit through a night of improve and comedy and start yawning. My fault? Maybe.
My friend the Cowboy had been used to my insanity and had stuck by me for almost eight years at that point. He was the older brother I never had and would have probably kicked my ass had we really been related. This was gonna be one of the countless number of times I had and would ask him for help or an opinion. In this case I would get both. So I called him when I was already half way there.
Me, "It's warm out and not even the closest neighbors can see the watering hole...
Look I'll figure out a feeding schedule and everything. All I need is some time to figure this out." I must have sounded like a kid trying to convince his dad that a hamster would make a great pet (which incidentally I had done about nine years earlier with my dad about 7 weeks before it died when I was entertained by how much it would eat if I didn't limit its food intake)
"You have really lost your mind. Do you know what they'll do to us if this bird is tracked here?", uttered the Very unimpressed brother. "Do you even know what this thing eats?"
"Of course. The Caribbean species eats mainly brine shrimp which I can find a supply of and flies which the cattle will provide.", says the true genius.
"How the hell do you know that?", asked the still-not-buying-the plan-rancher-dude.
"I read the sign in front of the freagin' cage at the zoo... Look are you gonna help or not? Pinky needs a place to crash.", almost-smelling-victory-man
"Just for a while!", him.
I made it to the ranch in record time and met my friend at the gate to the Overby place. He freaked just a little when he saw the passenger and opened the gate for us to drive in.
Pinky looked pleased to be off of the highway where I had been trying to keep him out of sight under a sarape I had picked up in TJ. After heading East on the second sendero we turned South towards the watering hole. Most of the cattle were on the opposite side of the water and did not even seem to notice we were there.
Kind of a strange sanctuary for something so far from its home, but he seemed happy to be in the water, and got very excited when I started emptying the packages of brine shrimp I had gotten at the Wally World at 2 AM. No one even batted an eye when I bought the entire stock of the petite freeze-dried crustaceans.
Had I really lost my mind or was this just another seemingly random act of curiosity mixed with insanity? Like when I had worn the jockstrap with an over-sized cup under my work clothes at the office just to see who would be looking at the bulge.
Total count for that experiment: twelve women and three men.
Soon all will become clear and the beer will wear off...
So what was my plan?
Cooler emptied...
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Group Unique
Not always original but consistently odd...
I guess that would have been a good way of spinning it. Something just wasn't quite wrong?
Not off beat just testing the tempo would be a good way to describe the journey.
A contradiction in the right direction? Perhaps...
So where are we all meeting up tonight? A question always asked as more of a formality with the old crew... The Nameless Saloon or rather the Shameless Saloon at times.
The same old thing. Just a bunch of us over-indulging and laughing till we went hoarse...
Reason for celebrating: Tuesday or was it the passing of Monday?
On the way there I made the usual rounds.
stop by the ATM and if need be the Changestar machine (also known as the hey look at me I'm broke, and this really loud clanging you hear is me getting beer money machine).
Call the nearest brothers and see if they wanted to ride with. Not so much did they feel like going but more the hey I am driving by your house it is Tuesday and I will take you there in boxers if you are not ready to go.
Tonight seemed different. My mind again drifted to the thoughts of the pink and imprisoned.
What had they done that was so wrong?
I couldn't think of a good answer so I did the next best thing. Called up the guys and told them I had to run an errand on the way there and to make sure and save my usual bar stool.
The parking lots were clear. Only the entrance lights were on and the miniature train had long since been put away for the evening after schlepping a bunch of kids around huge circles around the Zoo and several other land marks.
I hope he got my text. I was pulling a favor and little did I know our paths would cross again and again.
We grew up going to the same school and he had always been the kid bringing different critters to class for show and tell. Now he was one of the overnight custodial engineers at the zoo. He met me by the turnstiles and told me that if we got busted I would owe him allot more than a case of beer.
He held open the Wheel-chair access gate just wide enough for me to get my narrow nalgs in the park.
I made a bee line for the chain link enclosure and climbed like a deranged spider monkey till I reached the top and slid down the other side. The noise was intense and I was surprised nobody ran to see what was going on. The honking and clicking was intense and it took a bit to subside... I grabbed the nearest adult I could find and held him till he calmed down a bit and threw my jacket over him. The climb back up was insane. Between his kicking and my attempts at not falling we somehow made it.
I ran for my truck with my pink refugee in tow. His honking and flapping subsided when he somehow figured out that I was there to help. The keepers would never notice if just one was missing.
Mission Accomplished!!!
I started the truck and looked at my now serene passenger and was less than a mile away when the thought hit me.
What the Hell do I do now?
I guess that would have been a good way of spinning it. Something just wasn't quite wrong?
Not off beat just testing the tempo would be a good way to describe the journey.
A contradiction in the right direction? Perhaps...
So where are we all meeting up tonight? A question always asked as more of a formality with the old crew... The Nameless Saloon or rather the Shameless Saloon at times.
The same old thing. Just a bunch of us over-indulging and laughing till we went hoarse...
Reason for celebrating: Tuesday or was it the passing of Monday?
On the way there I made the usual rounds.
stop by the ATM and if need be the Changestar machine (also known as the hey look at me I'm broke, and this really loud clanging you hear is me getting beer money machine).
Call the nearest brothers and see if they wanted to ride with. Not so much did they feel like going but more the hey I am driving by your house it is Tuesday and I will take you there in boxers if you are not ready to go.
Tonight seemed different. My mind again drifted to the thoughts of the pink and imprisoned.
What had they done that was so wrong?
I couldn't think of a good answer so I did the next best thing. Called up the guys and told them I had to run an errand on the way there and to make sure and save my usual bar stool.
The parking lots were clear. Only the entrance lights were on and the miniature train had long since been put away for the evening after schlepping a bunch of kids around huge circles around the Zoo and several other land marks.
I hope he got my text. I was pulling a favor and little did I know our paths would cross again and again.
We grew up going to the same school and he had always been the kid bringing different critters to class for show and tell. Now he was one of the overnight custodial engineers at the zoo. He met me by the turnstiles and told me that if we got busted I would owe him allot more than a case of beer.
He held open the Wheel-chair access gate just wide enough for me to get my narrow nalgs in the park.
I made a bee line for the chain link enclosure and climbed like a deranged spider monkey till I reached the top and slid down the other side. The noise was intense and I was surprised nobody ran to see what was going on. The honking and clicking was intense and it took a bit to subside... I grabbed the nearest adult I could find and held him till he calmed down a bit and threw my jacket over him. The climb back up was insane. Between his kicking and my attempts at not falling we somehow made it.
I ran for my truck with my pink refugee in tow. His honking and flapping subsided when he somehow figured out that I was there to help. The keepers would never notice if just one was missing.
Mission Accomplished!!!
I started the truck and looked at my now serene passenger and was less than a mile away when the thought hit me.
What the Hell do I do now?
Monday, November 22, 2010
Don't I Get a Phone Call?
It seemed like a great idea... Hell, I even convinced myself...
All I would need is three maybe four hours of sleep & I would be great! Hail the conquering hero!!!!
Didn't have to clock into work till 10:00 AM. The coastal bend area was just 1.5 hours away. That equated to three hours of driving time which left me with six of indulgences taking into account the 3-4 hours of sleep. I could be back with time to spare.
Father time you are soooo my B!!!
I hadn't forgotten a thing and much like formula one I had just enough fuel to complete the mission. This was gonna be perfect! all the necessities were packed.
Cowboy hat with turkey feather
Case of Beer
Bag of chips
Extra Jeans
Boxers
Socks
Cooler
Fishing rod (just for show)
Tackle box (who are we kidding? What crazy fish can be eaten when it has lived in a watering hole for cattle / tank?)
Smile
I even remembered the tooth brush and towel... Even though a Jedi needs not these things.
Within all the excitement I could only think of one thing. My pink feathered friends. Just a shade away from the crane and the cardinal. Those poor misunderstood bastards.
They did not chose this life. They did not chose this place.
Yet, they sparkle like no other. Beauty and strength in numbers and like a huge fuchsia eclipse when they all take to flight.
Was I out of my mind or had I just found the freagin' Rabbit Hole?
All I would need is three maybe four hours of sleep & I would be great! Hail the conquering hero!!!!
Didn't have to clock into work till 10:00 AM. The coastal bend area was just 1.5 hours away. That equated to three hours of driving time which left me with six of indulgences taking into account the 3-4 hours of sleep. I could be back with time to spare.
Father time you are soooo my B!!!
I hadn't forgotten a thing and much like formula one I had just enough fuel to complete the mission. This was gonna be perfect! all the necessities were packed.
Cowboy hat with turkey feather
Case of Beer
Bag of chips
Extra Jeans
Boxers
Socks
Cooler
Fishing rod (just for show)
Tackle box (who are we kidding? What crazy fish can be eaten when it has lived in a watering hole for cattle / tank?)
Smile
I even remembered the tooth brush and towel... Even though a Jedi needs not these things.
Within all the excitement I could only think of one thing. My pink feathered friends. Just a shade away from the crane and the cardinal. Those poor misunderstood bastards.
They did not chose this life. They did not chose this place.
Yet, they sparkle like no other. Beauty and strength in numbers and like a huge fuchsia eclipse when they all take to flight.
Was I out of my mind or had I just found the freagin' Rabbit Hole?
There Has to be a better Way
Nap before a class on a bench in the breeze way good.
Nap during class on a bench in the breeze way not good.
Not sure what the reason for celebration had been we find our hero recharging his hero strength and heavy head on a bench in the breeze way...
"Good morning Sir!!!:) and how are we today?", Dr. Something-or-other-class on Wednesday AM-ish says with a smile that cries out I wish I were you again.
Just running a little late this morning.
"No worries." , he says with a grin.
No worries? Really?????
He must not have had the same dream I had.
Not the one with the Ghandi playing monopoly with Sally Strothers , but the one where hundreds were trapped and shipped far from home. No charges were levied, no Miranda Rights were read. Captured and crying out for justice on some diesel excuse for a ship heading to their new home. Each looked at the other and could only come up with one answer to their collective dilemma. Because we are pink and a little different a dollar can be made with our exposition.
Is there a chance of parole?
Time off for good behavior?
So many questions felt like too much...
Time for a snack.
Nap during class on a bench in the breeze way not good.
Not sure what the reason for celebration had been we find our hero recharging his hero strength and heavy head on a bench in the breeze way...
"Good morning Sir!!!:) and how are we today?", Dr. Something-or-other-class on Wednesday AM-ish says with a smile that cries out I wish I were you again.
Just running a little late this morning.
"No worries." , he says with a grin.
No worries? Really?????
He must not have had the same dream I had.
Not the one with the Ghandi playing monopoly with Sally Strothers , but the one where hundreds were trapped and shipped far from home. No charges were levied, no Miranda Rights were read. Captured and crying out for justice on some diesel excuse for a ship heading to their new home. Each looked at the other and could only come up with one answer to their collective dilemma. Because we are pink and a little different a dollar can be made with our exposition.
Is there a chance of parole?
Time off for good behavior?
So many questions felt like too much...
Time for a snack.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
The Egg
So there i was just minding my own business... sharing a few laughs and even more drinks.
Have you ever noticed how just a passing thought can sometimes stick with you? how something so seemingly silly and non-fabulous could catch your eye.
This was one of those things.
If I had to guess it must have been about twenty years ago. The party was winding down and The usual suspects were helping me clean up and run off the last of the nameless friends I had somehow invited to yet another successful Carne Asada. I think we only ran out of beverages once during the evening and would probably have to find a place to hide the railroad crossing arm one of the guys had decided to gift me. It wasn't the most useful gift but definitely original.
During the night, as any other time when the whole crew got together, the beer soaked conversation would always drift to some philosophical topic in an attempt to impress our very impressionable dates. Most times we could easily make these talks go smoothly setting one another in the best of lights as true wing men would do. Not this time.
The question: So with that in mind, how are you gonna change the world Nesto?
The answer: Silence. Complete and total silence. the kind of quiet one gets when telling a blind date about a stamp collection, or a would-be employer about a third nipple you are wanting to get pierced...
The rest of the night went much more smoothly and pretty uneventful. Ending with the dark stagger down the hall past the kitchen and living room almost knocking over the grandfather clock (make a note we'll talk about that freegin traitorous clock later), and finally into bed by way of a deep tooth brushing and half dead shower.
The last thought in my head that evening was wow how will I change this place...
Lights out
Have you ever noticed how just a passing thought can sometimes stick with you? how something so seemingly silly and non-fabulous could catch your eye.
This was one of those things.
If I had to guess it must have been about twenty years ago. The party was winding down and The usual suspects were helping me clean up and run off the last of the nameless friends I had somehow invited to yet another successful Carne Asada. I think we only ran out of beverages once during the evening and would probably have to find a place to hide the railroad crossing arm one of the guys had decided to gift me. It wasn't the most useful gift but definitely original.
During the night, as any other time when the whole crew got together, the beer soaked conversation would always drift to some philosophical topic in an attempt to impress our very impressionable dates. Most times we could easily make these talks go smoothly setting one another in the best of lights as true wing men would do. Not this time.
The question: So with that in mind, how are you gonna change the world Nesto?
The answer: Silence. Complete and total silence. the kind of quiet one gets when telling a blind date about a stamp collection, or a would-be employer about a third nipple you are wanting to get pierced...
The rest of the night went much more smoothly and pretty uneventful. Ending with the dark stagger down the hall past the kitchen and living room almost knocking over the grandfather clock (make a note we'll talk about that freegin traitorous clock later), and finally into bed by way of a deep tooth brushing and half dead shower.
The last thought in my head that evening was wow how will I change this place...
Lights out
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)