February 25, 2005

Hip Hop, Belly Flop

A couple of days ago, Dash had a post up that he says is video of him dancing. Cracked me up!

Today I got to witness a milder version of it. Dash's entry was the first thing I thought of when I saw this rather large man start bobbing his head. (There was no music.) Then he started doing some weird dance stepping side to side, rolling his gut in and out.

At first, I thought he was unaware of anyone seeing him. But as I watched and laughed, I noticed the woman working with him laughing her ass off! He just kept dancing and smiling! Killed me! But it wasn't near as good as the video at Dash's.

For those that haven't seen it, or didn't click on the link above, here is the video. Enjoy!

Posted by That 1 Guy at 06:16 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

How To Stay Single: Quick Advice

Today I got the fifth degree from a woman at work, wanting to know about my dating life, or lack of one. She just kept going on, and on, and on ... All in good humor. She just likes to harass me. She had been trying to get me to go out with her daughter, but I wasn't really that interested. So now she just keeps on.

Today, I gave her an explanation of why it's been so long. (It's been three years, for those that just have to know!) I'm a little overly cautious!

(An Aside) I've never been one to believe in sex early in a relationship. I think you need to get to know someone well before you take that step. It's a matter of self preservation, really. You have to know how they will react to a possible breakup. (I still can't believe this dude was stupid enough to agree to sex after a quarrel, and to allow his hands to be tied.)

Some women can be downright shady. Although this just sounded a little too weird. A gift. Heh.

Anyway, here's a couple things that I jokingly told her have worked for me. And guys, if you want to stay single, listen up.

1. Always be oblivious to interest from the finer sex. If not naturally ignorant, like myself, act dumb as hell when it comes to their lures. Pretty self explanatory. Even for me.

2. If one of them makes it past your "oblivious shield," make sure that you plan your dating out correctly.

Never start dating just before, or during, hunting season. There goes that peace and quiet!

Also, keep in mind Christmas, Valentine's Day, Sweetest Day, and her birthday. Wait until after one of these events to start your courtship, unless you want to toss away money needlessly.

Make yourself aware of St. Pat's Day unless you feel that she'll like the idea of you hurling on her shoes.

Easter... bad. You'll be forced to church, where, if you're like me, you will be struck by lightning.

Mother's Day timeframe may not be so good either, if you're not fond of watching family squabbles. Ditto, Dad's day. Although, that could come with a shotgun in your direction. Be careful.

During summer weather, keep in mind you'll be asked (told) to do "stuff." Waste of time stuff, like picnics, and walks in the park, and other nonsense.

About the best time to start dating, is early August. By then it's too hot for the outside stuff, so you can sit in the air conditioning at the movies, or her your favorite drinking establishment.

But again, be mindful of Labor Day. You may have to drag her around as you hit all the good parties.

3. Remember, THEY CAN'T GO OUT WITH YOU IF YOU NEVER ASK! As I explained all of my bull, she interrupted me and told me it was my fault that I had not been dating. "How so?," I ask. She was confident that there were women around that were interested. Had I ever bothered to ask? I told her, "Nope." And she replied with my bit of underlined advice. I explained that I patiently wait for a woman to tell me that she would go out with me if I asked. Then I'll ask. Safer that way!

Posted by That 1 Guy at 06:03 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

February 24, 2005

Hating Myself Right Now

There is an elderly woman here in town that I just can not stand. She bugs the hell out of me. Why? I've no idea.

It's not that she's a bad woman. She always is baking and bringing cookies and cakes to people. A very religious woman. Always wants to help, but rarely can. Greets everyone by name, and if not with a hug, a huge grin. Hell, I usually love people like this! It's because of these things, that I feel like a shithead for not being able to stand her.

She had to move about a month ago, and since she needed some help, I helped out. (I'm a good neighbour, dammit!!!) It worked out great... I never had to deal with her.

A whole lifetime of memories, and things representing them, had to be moved in one afternoon. I got there after helping my cousin move in the morning, so by the time I arrived, they were roughly half done. That's still a long way to go.

The basement of the new house was crammed with her stuff, and we had at least seven pickup loads to put down there. I started looking around with a friend, and we noticed that her earlier help had just thrown things in, with no regard to packing, stacking, shelving, or utility access. You couldn't get to the water main or the breaker box. I decided to tackle the task of reorganizing while packing away the newly arriving stuff.

I was down there for hours. All by myself, except for my beer(s). I loved it. Truly. By the time I was done, everything was packed away and stacked nice and orderly. I felt pretty damn good! And, I felt good about not having to deal with her!

Why tell you that? Maybe so that I don't feel so bad... you know, make myself sound like a good guy. And because now I really feel like a heel.

Last night I ran into the bar for chow and a beer, and she was in there. She hands me a small envelope and smiles, says, "Sorry I'm late." WTF!!! (No I didn't actually say that!)

It was a handmade Thank You note signed by her and her family.

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February 23, 2005

Having A Nice Day?

It was a great day from the get go.

I get up in plenty of time to get ready for work, and then sit down to check e-mail. Not smart enough to check the computer clock, I watch the one on the wall. The one with the dying battery. After a bit, I start thinking that I've been awake for an awful long time now, and I should be about ready to leave. I realize that the clock is an hour and then some behind. Then I check my computer clock... I should have left 14 minutes ago!

I rush out the door making sure to lock it before I step out. About the time it latches, I realize that my housekeys are sitting by my computer! #%&$!!! Okay, no biggy. I've got an extra set of car keys. I'll break into the house when I get home.

Running late like I was, I couldn't grab my usual breakfast sandwich. Hell, the buzzer was going off as I got out of my car! Thankfully, the clocks at work are off, too... but in our favor. Made it with seconds to spare.

Get to my work area to see that my night guy (really my day guy) left me in a bad way. I know that it was unintentional, but still...

Grinding tooling, I run the side of my finger into the grinding wheel. My cat-like reflexes save the day! No blood, just a little meat is gone. Makes great entertainment later in the day. Dirt will not stick to the ground off spot, so my hands are filthy except for a little white patch on the side of my finger.

I ask permission from the boss to run up to the lunchroom to grab something to eat. No prob, until I get up there. No good sandwiches. Nothing appealing. There are some Pop Tarts, but I don't really feel in the mood for cherry. Rather have chocolate chip Pop Tarts. Pretty good for what they are. Finally I decide that it's better than nothing, and buy the cherry tarts. Guess what's right behind them? Yeah. Chocolate chip. I felt like the whole day was going to be a series of incidents like this... nothing going right.

I just started laughing. Frustrated laughing, yes, but I couldn't help it. Felt like a fool.

But you know what? The rest of the day just seemed to come around. Maybe the laugh helped, maybe I lost my mind, and now I just think it's okay. Maybe fate just decided that I should only suffer for a short period of time. I like to think it was the laugh.

So how's your #%&$in' day going?!

Posted by That 1 Guy at 08:38 PM | Comments (0)

February 22, 2005

Hail To The Kings Losers

The fight for first place was tonight in our basketball league.

We had started out the first part of the season at .500, but in the second half, we came on strong. Lost only one game. Tonight was our final game, and as luck had it, it ended up being a critical one.

To say we got ourselves killed is going easy on us. Couldn't get any shots to sink... they rolled and bounced anywhere but through the net. Seemed the other team couldn't miss. At the final buzzer, they tossed up a half court shot, and of course it went in. I've gotta say, all I could do was laugh and admire they way they played.

I did get a couple of good fouls in, though! You've got to educate them when they try to drive on you! At least I didn't drop my shoulder on anyone this week. Heh.

To echo Cubs fans everywhere, "Wait 'til next year!"

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How A Marine Is Seen

If you are one that hasn't visited my brother Marine, Eric of Straight White Guy, head on over and check out this post.

It's an e-mail that he's posted. While some of it is funny, it makes a Marine's chest swell with pride. Especially the last part. I've always been proud of my country, but I've got to say, that since I was a Marine, there hasn't been a singing of the National Anthem where I didn't get watery eyes. (Including Sarahk's rendition.) But watching the Marine Silent Drill Team... it's damn powerful. I have gotten to see them live once, and on television twice. I don't say a word watching them. After a bit, you can't hardly see them, what with the dust specks getting in your eyes.

If you've never seen them, and you get the chance, do it. You'll never forget it. If you've seen them, you know what I'm talking about. Gets to you doesn't it?

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February 21, 2005

Handy Tabasco Tip #28,367

Intoxicated or not, do NOT ever rub your eyes after eating food covered in Tabasco! It's awfully hard to drive home when you can't even see the frickin' road!

Maybe I shall publish a safety book. What are your Tabasco tips?

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February 20, 2005


I was talking on the phone today to Tammi, when my phone died. Since it's only me in this house, I have only one phone. Thankfully, I have a speaker phone, so when she called back I used the base.

Talk about weird. I discovered that I have a few habits that were worse than I ever thought.

My cousin and I have joked about me pacing when I'm on the phone. He does it, too. I never realized how bad I did it until the handset was no longer available. Standing in one spot just felt too weird. I caught myself fidgeting like crazy!

I also caught myself flinging my hands all over as I was talking. I don't know if it was because I was free of the phone, or what. I do know that I've never used my hands much while speaking. So I thought. Now I know I'm way wrong! I could have put out an eye!!!

And one final habit that isn't a bad one, I just wasn't so aware of it. Without the phone in hand, it felt like a regular conversation. So I was going nuts because there was no eye contact. It just felt strange. Hopefully, I didn't seem rude while I'm pondered these things!

Do you have any strange habits that you do while on the phone? Keep it clean, people! Ah nevermind! :)

Posted by That 1 Guy at 08:28 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Help From The Rev.

The Rev. Lick posts his advice for straightening out a wearer of orange pants.

Careful if you explore over there... there's some bare flesh layin' about!

Posted by That 1 Guy at 07:37 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

February 19, 2005

Giddy Over ED

That would be ED, as in "Evil Dead."

Okay, before anything else, read this.

Keeping that in mind, I still have to say that I'm starting to get a little happy about the chances of another "Evil Dead" movie. Sam Raimi says, "Yes." At least in that article.

The "Evil Dead" films are some of my favorites. In large part to Bruce Campbell. I personally think he's one of the most under-rated actors out there. But then again, I'm a fan, and I'm biased.

Any other Bruce Campbell fans out there looking forward to seeing what comes about? And remember, BRUCE, not Glen.

Posted by That 1 Guy at 02:58 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Good Night

This a story that I found while deleting a bunch of files. I thought you might get a chuckle out of this, and since I'm not going to be around much today, I figured to post it.

03:00 Sunday parking lot

The bar had been closed for half an hour. The last bikes had roared off and disappeared into the night, along with most of the cop cars that had lain in wait. Only one of the original squads that had been positioned outside of the bar remained in the area. Somewhere. The other two had quickly vanished after, in their haste to bust someone, they had pulled over one of the party goers that hadn't a drop to drink.

Night sounds were returning to normal, when the sound of quiet laughing and swearing filled the air. Four men, three of them with long goatees, came walking around the corner, heading for the parking lot. Maybe intimidating at first glance, (they were all over six ft. tall) after a second look, one would see that these guys were friendly. The insults about each other's lineage and intelligence were all in fun. Many were met with suggestions that the insulter do some type of activity that was physically impossible.

The tallest one kept saying over and over, "My mom sa, my, my, my mom said," referring to earlier in the evening. He had taken a pair of Harry Potter-ish glasses that made his eyes look HUGE, and started talking like a nervous nerd. Telling those that gathered around about how his mom said to stay away from dirty girls, but she wanted him to play with nice girls like the uncommonly hot bartender. The ladies would pull on his beard, and he would shriek some more about how he was supposed to stay away from them. The ladies loved it, and the guys had tears in their eyes from laughing so hard. Anyway, back to the parking lot.

Shorty kept up his stuttering while the other three walked over to their bikes. It was damn cold, and they were all a little nervous about the bikes getting started. They had been sitting there for almost 12 hours. Engine work tends to make bikes start a little rougher in the cold, and all of them had had work done.

The Slobb starts his bike first... no problem. His brother Clean Face starts his... a little rough, but she runs good. Alphabet fires his up with no problem at all. Now Shorty tries.... no go. Tries again ... no go. Slobb starts bitching about his friends having junky bikes and how he's always got to fix them. Shorty tries once more, and this time it's clear that his battery just isn't going to let him get it going. The others shut their bikes off, while they belittle Shorty and his bike, trying to decide what to do. They decide to pop start it; push it, and pop the clutch. Should work, they reason.

On the first attempt, Shorty's bike is in too low of a gear .... when he pops the clutch, Clean Face and Slobb go flying past the bike and hit the pavement. Cursing and laughing ensues. Shorty is called most anything but his real name at this point.

On the second attempt, it pops off. Shorty gives it a couple of good cracks on the throttle and then turns and yells, "My Mom says ..." just as the bike dies. He stops in mid sentence, staring at his bike, and then mumbles, "well f#*k." To which Alphabet asks, "Does she really say that?" before tearing into him about letting the bike die. Clean Face and Slobb just stand there, shaking their heads and smiling. They decide that the best thing to do is to try pushing it down the street.

After more friendly comments about the bike and it's rider, the other three begin pushing Shorty down the street. Each time they yell "pop 'er now!," the engine coughs and stops. This is done for almost three blocks before they decide that if they push any farther, they may as well just push Shorty all the way home. It's decided that instead of leaving the bike there on the street, they would try to start it some more while pushing it back to the parking lot.

It's a moonless night, and the streetlights are spaced far apart on this little street. Just a block away, all you can see is the shape of four men standing around something. Now there's just three men. Slobb is off on the side of the road, out of sight, talking to his girlfriend on his cellphone. Before she left the party, she tugged on his ponytail, and Slobb, being used to having it pulled all the time, just ignored it. Now she is asking why he's mad at her, and why didn't he turn around when she was leaving, and why .... we all get the picture. Of course, there is no right answer or safe explanation, even though he knows he's done nothing wrong.

Wait, now there are only two shadows standing around what looks to be a motorcycle. Clean Face has broken off to the other side of the street. Before leaving the bar, the uncommonly hot bartender set a bottle of beer on the bar and asked if someone would chug it. It had been opened for someone and iced, never to be claimed. Clean Face, not one to let such a beverage go to waste, slammed down the beer for her. Now he is threatening to lose it, if he has to push anymore.

With Slobb still trying to talk to his girl, the other three give it another try. Now Alphabet is riding... they've figured out that Shorty can push his own bike, even if one of the others has to help. As the clutch gets popped, Clean Face once again hits pavement, but this time he just lays there. Alphabet and Shorty voice their concern, although it's veiled. Turns out that Clean Face is alright, he's just fighting off the urge to blow chow. The other two are thoroughly disgusted by this, so Clean Face, who thinks losing lunch is funny even if it's you that's doing it, runs over to the side of the street again, and lets go, talking and making jokes between each wretch. Slobb is too far away to hear any of this, but the other two start talking about how nice the sky looks and "damn, are you done yet." Clean Face, feeling renewed, heads back to the bike, only to take a bunch of crap about how nasty that was. They give him a load about not holding his drink, but he explains that when he drinks, it's to relax, not to prepare to run wind sprints. More laughter.

Now Slobb reappears just in time for all of them to see the missing squad car coming down the street. No one moves anywhere. They are just resigned to their fates. And as they start joking to each other, what can they get in trouble for besides being intoxicated in public? Drunken pushing? The cop stops and just sits for almost a full thirty seconds, then turns away. Ah, the old motto proves true again; Safety In Numbers!

After the cop left, they hurriedly get the bike back to the bar parking lot where three of them sprawl on the cold pavement. Shorty stands over his bike cussing, while the others try to cool down. They are like this when the bar owner finds them. She pulls into the lot thinking that there are bodies in the lot, when they all sit up.

After getting over the initial shock, she calls her husband, who shows up with jumper cables. The bike is started, along with their good humor. "My mom said, my, my, my mom said...," is heard more than once. More cursing of ancestors and name calling.

After the bikes are warmed up, we they ride off, each thinking to themselves, "Damn, this was a good night!"

Posted by That 1 Guy at 02:00 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

February 18, 2005

Gripe Day

You ever spend a lot of time on a project, finally complete it, and then a few days later, been told that it was for nothing? That you needed to do the whole thing over?

I take a lot of pride in the quality of work that I put out. I take a little longer to get it set up, but when it runs, I know that they are going to be good parts. Most times, I know that the setup is going to run some damn good parts. Checking tolerances is a security, not a necessity for most of my setups. I'm not bragging. Just sayin'.

I spent almost a week on a setup, and that's between the two of us on the machine, replaced tooling, and re-did the setup. Ran the order out. All along, checking parts. Good.

Say it ain't so, Joe, but they aren't good. Whole order scrapped out. Grrrrrr. Going to get it back today. Been stewing about it all night. My personal pride has taken a hit. Hopefully we can get this running today. Hopefully.

So how about you? Got any gripes? C'mon... share in my misery!

Posted by That 1 Guy at 03:16 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

February 16, 2005

Got Advice?

This is for everyone, but especially the ladies. I think you may be of invaluable service here.

You see a woman wearing... oh, let's say... orange polyester slacks. Very unflattering. How does one go about letting her know that she really shouldn't wear them... ever again?

And don't take me for stupid, and tell me to" ask her if her grandmother had left her those pants in her will."

It didn't work so well the first time.

*replaces raw steak on swollen eye*

Posted by That 1 Guy at 07:56 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

February 15, 2005

Good Tunes Equals Link

Yeah, I know that A Small Victory is a bigger blog. I've visited a few times, and love the fact that Michele not only has some good posts, but she posts some great tunes. The other day I'm over there, and I finally realize that she's got a line from "A Shogun Named Marcus" in the window title (or whatever it's called): Check it out I'm like a buzzbomb! Clutch?!?! Now I have to blogroll her! But out of respect for Velociman, I shall link her as Victory, Small Qty:1.

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Gordon And Susan....

Today I hate you. I walk into work, and for the next seven hours, I have one song pop into my head and stay there. Do you wanna know what is was? I'll tell you anyway. One of these things. Yep. A damn Sesame Street song. Now, I enjoy planting the theme song as an earworm, but this was hell!

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February 14, 2005

Gettin' Together with the "Slu Cru"

Well, as is obvious, I didn't go to the Reunion held this weekend. I had a prior commitment which I had forgotten about. I've got to do something about this great memory of mine. Anyway, though I really missed the opportunity to meet the family and their guests, I'm glad I stayed here.

Many moons ago, a group of six men bought a piece of land along a river. It was surrounded by hunting clubs, essentially in the middle of nowhere. My uncle was one of the buyers. His fellow co-owners were almost all prior servicemen now working for the same company. A tight-knit group. They built some buildings, and it became their hunting shack.

As the years went by, the county bought up the hunting clubs, leaving their land surrounded by forest preserve. It is their slice of heaven. Many deer, and a few turkeys are harvested each year, along with the murder of many innocent beers, and the consumption of a concoction reverently referred to as "moose juice." (A 50/50 mix of Christian Brothers Brandy and Peppermint Schnapps.)

The actual group of those allowed to hunt is small, and limited to the six and their families, and a couple of adoptees, one known as "The Hippie."

My uncle has four sons, but none share any of his interest in hunting. There are three guys in my family, and while not huge hunters all, we do like to get out in the woods. He loves when we come over so that he can show us his new equipment, or tell us about how he's shooting trap or bow. He's been telling us about the cabin, and an annual party (an all day.... and night, affair) that they always throw in February for years. Of course, he always told us about it after the party happened.

Last year I promised that I would make it this year. I forgot. How I remembered is another story, but I was reminded in time. Again, I'm glad.

My uncle has been telling these guys about us, and they were looking forward to meeting us. Both "The Hippie" (who I occasionally drink with) and my uncle had been telling us that they were actually excited about it. I wondered how exaggerated this was.

We arrived at the slough, only to discover that it was under water, and the party had been moved to one of the landowner's trap range. The hunting cabin itself was high and dry, but to get to it meant going through almost 3ft. of water. No problem like this at the trap range.

It was located on top of a hill, one of the highest around, and the view was incredible. There was a thirty acre stand of woods almost next to the clubhouse, and some small target shooting going on in there. One of the trap houses was operating, and guys were out powdering the clays. Mostly, guys were standing all around just talking, having a good time.

Walking into the clubhouse, there was a dice game going on, a pool table, and a furious game of poker being played. "The Hippie" was sitting there when my cousin and I walked in, and he proudly announced that he was in the clock cleaning business. The he proceeded to introduce us to those at the table. None were of the original six.

Going to get some food, I discovered that the description of them being excited was no exaggeration. My uncle met us, and told us that we needed to get our buttons. Since this was the first time out there, our buttons were emblazoned with "Cherry." Then he started the intros, but he's a pretty popular one, and he didn't get too far before he got sidetracked.

My boss is one of the six's sons. He had come in the door, so I introduced my cousin, and he introduced us to his dad. He introduced me as working with him, and then intro'd my cousin, who his father happened to recognize the name. They got to talking for a bit, and then the boss' dad looks around and asks where the hell *my uncle*'s nephew Joe is at.

He had shaken my hand before, but when he realized that I was the one he was looking for, he grabbed my hand again, in such a grip that I thought he was going to break my fingers! He had this big grin going ear to ear, and off we went to meet the other two of the six that were present. But not until we had a slug of "moose juice." Excited? No exaggeration at all!!!

I ended up visiting with those guys quite a bit, as well as many others. I listened to them giving each other crap about the shooting contest (which I was too late for) that they had earlier in the day. I listened to them hootin' and hollerin' and just having a good old time.

When it got dark, and they all moved inside, I made quite a few trips outside. Not a crowd person am I. But I couldn't help but grin listening to them. A yell would go up every time a good roll of the dice happened. A burst of name calling whenever someone successfully bluffed. Just guys acting like guys.

To try and describe this and make it sound like fun to someone, just doesn't work. Those that have been to something similar will know that it is an incredibly good time. But the best way that I can think of to describe it, is a phrase from a Harley shirt: If I Have To Explain, You Wouldn't Understand.

My cousin came up with one better when his wife told him she didn't see what fun it could be. He told her, "You remember what it's like to be a kid? How they can play forever in a tree fort, or playhouse? These are bigger kids, with bigger toys."

I can't wait to play next year.

Posted by That 1 Guy at 06:58 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Greetings On Singles Awareness Day!

Just wanted to wish you singles a great one on this overhyped day!

And to all you couples, may you and yours make your dreams come to realization!

Have a good VD all! Heh.

Posted by That 1 Guy at 03:47 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

February 13, 2005

Gotta Get To The Next One

So, unless you read only my blog, you've got to know that the Bad Example Family Reunion is about to wind down. Sounds like this was a great time! I wish I was able to go, but due to a memory lapse, I wasn't able. So basically I just kept checking their blogs. I noticed that I wasn't the only one, as Michele seemed to be in the comments, also. If she felt like I did, she was feeling bummed, but happy for them all.

But I did get to talk to a bunch of them today. Most for the first time. Talk about cool. No, make that awesome! Got to talk to Bou, Harvey, Johnny-Oh, _Jon, Teresa, and of course, the hostess herself, Tammi. Unfortunately, I missed Lee Ann, FrankJ, and (I have to say I'm totally distraught... hey, she'll shake her fist at me) SarahK.

All were what I expected, and then some. Hell, Harvey called me a dumbass right away. You gotta love that!* It was a great pleasure speaking with all of you, and I'm looking forward to meeting you all. I've already got an idea for the next one. Hopefully the connections are still in place. You'll find out later if you don't already know.

I'm incredibly jealous. But there will be a next time. Tammi said so.

*Call me a dumbass if you wish, but use the proper tone of voice. Wrong tone results in a ticket for the full length feature, "The Back Of Your Eyelids."

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Gushing With Love; Since 1967

The Feisty One, the lovely Christina, has specifically called out Acidman, Eric, Zonker, the Llama Butchers, and me to give her a male perspective to her "Don't Say A Word" post. I'll give it a shot, but I've gotta warn you, my expertise is very limited. Very.

If you haven't bothered to read her post.... Let me first say; Shame on you! Read it! But if you still insist on ignoring it, what she's talking about is communicating feelings without speech.

A touch. A look. A feeling. And along the same lines as a feeling, but not the same, a presence.

Of course, there are the little gestures; flowers or gifts for no officially recognized card holiday, notes here and there just because. I've always like to do the flowers from out of nowhere. Seeing the smile it brings. Or maybe seeing the smile after you're led away in 'cuffs. "Damn stalker!"

I've been one who really doesn't believe in mushy, mouth crushing, hands all over, rubbing of the unmentionables, public displays of affection. "Yes, you're in love. We figured that out after seeing you implant your tongue in her throat. If you're that willing to show what the hell goes on in your bedroom, film it, and sell the video. Make some money on the loss of your pride."

However, when it comes to me personally, I do believe in touch. A quick peck on her cheek... her lips... her neck. My hand on her lower back. Okay, I realize I'm going back a little on what I said, but the arm around the waist is good, too. I just can't do the groping thing in public. (In private, however ....) It's not a sex thing. It's little things to let her know that I appreciate her. Being with her.

Out of the public eye, I like to play with her hair while talking with her. Trace her cheek bones. Her jaw. Her neck. The lobe of her ear. Her legs.

A look from her can make me feel appreciated. The way her mouth curves into a slow smile. The twinkle in her eyes when I make a lame joke. Ah, yes. The eyes. Eyes can melt a man... and I ain't talkin' superpowers.

Sometimes, just to know that someone is willing to be around you is good. Hell, they're standing next to you, watching the ballgame. They've got to love you! That really isn't the presence that I was talking about. To try and describe that... well, I've been trying, and I think it's indescribable. I know that I have felt that when I'm around that person, everything is cool with the world, and yet, nothing really matters.

Of course, I have to admit that I'm really just talking out of my ass right now. I have to go off of memories... it's been a long while. Though, I think that may also be a positive. I don't really know!

Go ahead and check out these guys' posts: Eric, Acidman, and Mr. Helpful, who tells of the eyes much better than I. These guys convey. I just say.

Update: Zonker's weighed in!

Posted by That 1 Guy at 01:23 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

February 11, 2005

From A Sneeze... Realization

A violent sneeze, tainted with a faint smell of hurl.

What's it mean? You've stayed beyond your one beer limit. Duh!

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February 08, 2005

First Aid for Morons

Quick tip:

Open wound? Do not get Tabasco in the wound. Resulting sensation is far removed from "tickling."

Posted by That 1 Guy at 04:32 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

February 03, 2005

Everyone's A Comedian

Quote of the evening (from a five year old at the bar):

Little lass sneezed, and we all said, "Bless you." With one exception. A friend of mine asked her if she was allergic to assholes. She quickly responded, "Just you."

I kid you not! The kid had tears coming from my eyes!

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February 01, 2005

Eatin' The Fat

After stopping at Ogre's place, and reading his post about spam, I sufferred from an incredible craving.

Thanks be that I still had a can of Spam in the house. (I had bought it as a joke for a Vietnam vet. He wouldn't even touch it. Oh, he laughed, but he wanted to kill me! :)) My only worry was that it may be a bit too old. Silly me, this stuff's good for another 2 months .... wait. That's 2 years and 2 months. "Best By APR 2007"

As I sat down to enjoy this lean treat (only 180 calories per serving, and a mere 140 of that is from fat), I thought about how this non-perishable delight was the butt of more than a few jokes. And yet today, they've made a musical named after it!

How many of you have a fondness for this can-o-fat?

Posted by That 1 Guy at 07:02 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack


I will get around to having my pictures from vacation developed. When I do, I will put them in a gallery and let those who are interested check it out. In the meantime, my brother has his done, and gave me some copies. Neither of us took many shots since we were riding most of the time, so I will put both of our sets in the gallery. However, I'll give you a picture of the three of us (my brother "the perfect one*," my cousin, and me), taken in Rocky Mountain National Park.

The perfect one is the guy in the center, with my cousin being the one on the right.

And speaking of my bro, check out his little dude!

Damn cute kid! He definitely takes after his mother! Heh.

*This title is not a rip, in case you were wondering. He'll let you know that he is! :)

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