Weird P. Blog about your near life experience. Boooooring. I think it had to do w/my waxing on "Acute Pain" to a co-worker. Not "sustained" pain or injury (Although that sometimes follows) I'm talking pain that, for whatever reason, causes remarkable clarity. A "white" moment.
Ex: Barking your shins in the middle of the night. (I forget which comedian said "Shins are God's way of helping you find furniture in the dark") You shuffle along, half asleep, making your way to the loo' for a 2:30 am potty break when WHAMMO! (Or a muffled crack) of your shin barking agains the coffee table. Now, besides uttering a few curses you ever notice that you have a sort of "flash" and everything around you becomes a little clearer? Now I don't advocate hurting yourself or deliberately kicking around in the darker until WHAMMO you connect. But, it always amazes me how immediate and instant pain can cause this. (And it can't be premeditated either. It's the immediate adrenaline shot as opposed to the agonizing slow burn of anticipatory discomfort.)
Other examples:
Getting hit really hard without knowing where it's coming from (Yeah...)
Smacking yourself in the head. (See: Searching under a desk or in a cupboard)
Getting kicked in either the mommy or daddy button.
Waxing/Removing a band-aid
Paper Cuts/Razor nicks
Biting your tongue
Getting your fingers slammed in a car door. (As my co-worker did to me a few weeks ago)
In one of my many old Martial Arts tomes, I read that Wushu practitioners would nick themselves with thorny ash branches prior to engaging in combat. Something about the teeny tiny little cuts helping with clarity and focus. While I personally feel that's akin to the behavior of flagellents or more topically "cutters" (gross) I can sort of subscribe to the philosophy. I used to play hockey and football better when I had a cold/was sick. Even in shows, I get hyper-aware of my mechanics and usually can sing/speak better because I'm actively working on where I breathe from (And who I breathe on. Which, in turn, makes for a better listener.)
Ahhh, just an old man and his queer rantings. Anyone else notice this?
Thursday, September 29, 2005
That's new...
(Gasp...Gasp...Huuuhhhwwwwuuhhh. Is it possible? Is my life flashing before my eyes?)
"Again! You didn't have much power that time. Your punch was harder than the kick."
WHHHHOMP, Tap-Tap
(Just, don't ask if I'm okay. If he asks if I'm okay, it'll be a signal of, something...)
"(Insert my first name) Want to (please don't ask if I'm okay) get some water quick?
(Ugh. He called me by my 1st name. Not, "Mr.P", just ___. In karate, they usually dole out your proper name out of respect. While it isn't disrespectful to not use "Mr." when you aren't a black belt, it does tell me: "You still got a loooong way to go, kiddo" )
"I forgot it. " (The one day I want to do curriculum. Not that it's so easy, but I didn't think I'd be losing pints of H20)
'kay. Switch stances. I'm going to come at you with the pad, and I want you to sidekick, punch, and then throw a jump-spin sidekick."
It's been going on like this for the last hour. Class consisted of just-me. So the instructor made it a point to work technique, not curriculum. After the 1st twenty minutes of drills, every breath I managed to draw came in like I was sucking on a blowdryer. After 45 minutes, my vision starts to get swimmy and my technique goes out the door. Vomiting seems like a pretty good idea. I can't hear very well because (a) the rush of blood in my ears sounds like a low-head dam and (b) the sweat has sort of blocked off my ear canal.
After a while I get into a nice groove. I start taking deep "well" breaths, imagining that I'm filling my body with oxygen all the way down to my feet. (Foomp, tap-tap, ...FOOM)
Good. You didn't really throw a jump spin, but you're improvising.
I stop thinking about the crappy day, the shitty flamer e-mails, the dumb ?'s from co-workers, house worries, bills, time...What I start thinking about trying to staying upright. (Don't faint)
This may seem, again, warshed with machismo, but I know what it really is. (And, as it has been explained to me in the past) Because of who my big brother is, they are going to try to work me just as hard as they would have worked him. And, yeah. I don't want to wuss out.
Okay, hand and footpads off. Line up for the end of class. CHARYO, KunYAY! (We bow)
After class, I try to engage in chit-chat which doesn't come out right- I sound like I've suffered a stroke. Getting dressed is a bit of a chore (You're going to be sore tomorrow, so you might want to ice down a bit. I figured since your getting into fighting shape, and since it's you- I'd work you harder tonight, cool?) My shoulders feel like I just finished doing a 2-hour handstand.
It's the Dowling Ave. exit before my swimmy peripheral vision starts to focus. If I was pulled over, they'd give me a DUI. When I get home, I toss my wet gi into the hamper, and fold a dry one and put it back in my workout bag. Back at it tomorrow.
And I don't feel so bad today. Kiiiiai.
"Again! You didn't have much power that time. Your punch was harder than the kick."
WHHHHOMP, Tap-Tap
(Just, don't ask if I'm okay. If he asks if I'm okay, it'll be a signal of, something...)
"(Insert my first name) Want to (please don't ask if I'm okay) get some water quick?
(Ugh. He called me by my 1st name. Not, "Mr.P", just ___. In karate, they usually dole out your proper name out of respect. While it isn't disrespectful to not use "Mr." when you aren't a black belt, it does tell me: "You still got a loooong way to go, kiddo" )
"I forgot it. " (The one day I want to do curriculum. Not that it's so easy, but I didn't think I'd be losing pints of H20)
'kay. Switch stances. I'm going to come at you with the pad, and I want you to sidekick, punch, and then throw a jump-spin sidekick."
It's been going on like this for the last hour. Class consisted of just-me. So the instructor made it a point to work technique, not curriculum. After the 1st twenty minutes of drills, every breath I managed to draw came in like I was sucking on a blowdryer. After 45 minutes, my vision starts to get swimmy and my technique goes out the door. Vomiting seems like a pretty good idea. I can't hear very well because (a) the rush of blood in my ears sounds like a low-head dam and (b) the sweat has sort of blocked off my ear canal.
After a while I get into a nice groove. I start taking deep "well" breaths, imagining that I'm filling my body with oxygen all the way down to my feet. (Foomp, tap-tap, ...FOOM)
Good. You didn't really throw a jump spin, but you're improvising.
I stop thinking about the crappy day, the shitty flamer e-mails, the dumb ?'s from co-workers, house worries, bills, time...What I start thinking about trying to staying upright. (Don't faint)
This may seem, again, warshed with machismo, but I know what it really is. (And, as it has been explained to me in the past) Because of who my big brother is, they are going to try to work me just as hard as they would have worked him. And, yeah. I don't want to wuss out.
Okay, hand and footpads off. Line up for the end of class. CHARYO, KunYAY! (We bow)
After class, I try to engage in chit-chat which doesn't come out right- I sound like I've suffered a stroke. Getting dressed is a bit of a chore (You're going to be sore tomorrow, so you might want to ice down a bit. I figured since your getting into fighting shape, and since it's you- I'd work you harder tonight, cool?) My shoulders feel like I just finished doing a 2-hour handstand.
It's the Dowling Ave. exit before my swimmy peripheral vision starts to focus. If I was pulled over, they'd give me a DUI. When I get home, I toss my wet gi into the hamper, and fold a dry one and put it back in my workout bag. Back at it tomorrow.
And I don't feel so bad today. Kiiiiai.
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
You think that this is irrational?
And people wonder why I have an irrational fear of deep deep water....s#it like this
Yeah. That's right. A 26-foot long Architeuthis. That's "Giant Squid".
Thar be monsters...
Yeah. That's right. A 26-foot long Architeuthis. That's "Giant Squid".
Thar be monsters...
Thursday, September 22, 2005
What hasn't changed
(A continuation)
-Still pretty spastic. Can't be helped. I have me a lot of energy, but I think I'm getting better at where I direct it. Namely, my pants.
-Still very polite and respectful of others. Manners count, you know? Pleases, thank you's, How are you/Fine Thank you and yourself, Hold the door, let the next person through. All that jazz. Easy Karma.
-Still keeping an open mind: Mom tells me my teachers were happy that I was so quick to make friends with everyone (Truth is, I wanted everyone to love me. GOT to be the center of attention, don't we all?) and that the kids that most folks wouldn't spend time with-I would. When my dearest friend came out to me, he said that I was the first (straight) person he came out to. That felt really good. And you should always do it, if it feels good. See the correlation?
-Still pretty funny. Lookin' My uncle likes to tell friends and loved ones about how I made up a song when I was 4 years old, entitled "Radioactive Spider-Man Dookie" and sang it all through his wedding. There. You now have the genesis of my need to make-up song lyrics. And yes. Dookie.
-Still climbin. That whole Spiderman thing. Love climbin', but I have a dickens of a time getting back down again
-Still holdin' fast to Those "Olde Fashyoned Starry-eyed Romantic Ideals": like honor/twue wove/loyalty. I know it's a little old Fashioned, and I'm trying to temper it with (a little) more grounding and (a lot) less "wimby-wimby"
-Still have an active imagination. Word booty. But, don't we all. And wouldn't the old employers like it if I used it to do, oh, work? Instead of trying to create witty P-ism's all day
-Still love history. Thanks, "Raiders of the Lost Ark" for that. Did you know that I wanted to be an archeologist for a couple of months after that movie? Until a field trip with the Science Museum proved that real archeologists don't even carry a bullwhip, or fedora. (Most of them wear cowboy hats and carry dirty toothbrushes) And they look like hippies.
-Still love travelling. Thanks, Dad and Mom. I got a whole world to visit
-Still pretty spastic. Can't be helped. I have me a lot of energy, but I think I'm getting better at where I direct it. Namely, my pants.
-Still very polite and respectful of others. Manners count, you know? Pleases, thank you's, How are you/Fine Thank you and yourself, Hold the door, let the next person through. All that jazz. Easy Karma.
-Still keeping an open mind: Mom tells me my teachers were happy that I was so quick to make friends with everyone (Truth is, I wanted everyone to love me. GOT to be the center of attention, don't we all?) and that the kids that most folks wouldn't spend time with-I would. When my dearest friend came out to me, he said that I was the first (straight) person he came out to. That felt really good. And you should always do it, if it feels good. See the correlation?
-Still pretty funny. Lookin' My uncle likes to tell friends and loved ones about how I made up a song when I was 4 years old, entitled "Radioactive Spider-Man Dookie" and sang it all through his wedding. There. You now have the genesis of my need to make-up song lyrics. And yes. Dookie.
-Still climbin. That whole Spiderman thing. Love climbin', but I have a dickens of a time getting back down again
-Still holdin' fast to Those "Olde Fashyoned Starry-eyed Romantic Ideals": like honor/twue wove/loyalty. I know it's a little old Fashioned, and I'm trying to temper it with (a little) more grounding and (a lot) less "wimby-wimby"
-Still have an active imagination. Word booty. But, don't we all. And wouldn't the old employers like it if I used it to do, oh, work? Instead of trying to create witty P-ism's all day
-Still love history. Thanks, "Raiders of the Lost Ark" for that. Did you know that I wanted to be an archeologist for a couple of months after that movie? Until a field trip with the Science Museum proved that real archeologists don't even carry a bullwhip, or fedora. (Most of them wear cowboy hats and carry dirty toothbrushes) And they look like hippies.
-Still love travelling. Thanks, Dad and Mom. I got a whole world to visit
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
Now and Then
Things I was better at when I was a kid (Like, 15/16 and under)
Camping/Being outdoorsey. I used to camp all the time and nothing made me happier than being out under the stars with a sleeping bag, ground cloth, and the sounds of nature. Now, I'd probably get so frustrated with putting the tent together I'd karate chop it or something dumb. My family and I camped all the time, from when I was a little-little kid...to the last time I went which was, Ooooooh, 1998? I can still start fires though...buh-wah-ha-ha!
Acting with Reckless Abandon. Teachers, Coaches, other parents...used to call it "Hyperactivity" but I beg differ. And differ to beg. I remember sort of plowing into everything "head first" without threat or fear of personal safety. I don't do that anymore which I guess is called "common sense" but I feels more like a flinch, or like I'm 2nd guessing myself. (This was apparent the last time I was asked by my folks to go up the ladder and onto their roof. "Is the ladder secure?","Dad can you hold it?" "Are there any soft parts in the shingles?" Also the pseudo-vertigo after losing my grip at the top.) Sometimes, I miss that lack of self-awareness...and since going to college and learning about "acting" I am so much more self aware, when I should be back "taking bigger risks"
Shooting things. In Scouts, it'd piss my big brother off to no end that I could do a little better than he would at archery and on the rifle range. (He loved shooting and throwing knives and shit. Except, he wore glasses, so he always had to "over-correct" Get it?) I got merit badges and the offer to join the junior rifle squad, etc.
I haven't fired a gun since High School, and to be honest, I hate them. A lot. I don't think I'd mind getting on the archery range again though.
Hockey. Like I said before, I haven't had a pair of ice skates on in 14 years. Last time I was at my folks, I dorked around with my old hockey stick (Yes, they still had it) and tried to slap shot a stuffed doggie toy, and it wound up on the roof of their house.
( That, Geef, is why it was up there. )
Biking. Again, I may just be out of practice, but since getting my drivers license I've been on a bicycle a total of 6 times. Seriously. I've just been a jogger/runner. And when I was recently given my brothers old bike, I inflated the tires and gave it a test spin. I started to think of the days when I was 12 to 15...and I used to bike EVERY-where. The entire NW suburbs were my turf, and it seemed like it took me years to get from point A to point B. (Even if it was only a handful of miles) And these memories played out like a movie... In the two seconds after I got on the bike and just as promptly fell on my ass. (I blamed the seat)
Drawing: Which I used to do all the time. I just, don't anymore. I took classes and everything...
Things I am better at as I get older
Domestic tasks: Cooking and Laundry. I used to cook like my dad. Everything on the stove with the burner on "Hi". I've learned finesse. And to use other spices besides "Salt" and "Saltier". 12 Spices? There must be doubles... I'm getting better at chicken, grillin, cooking pasta, breakfasts. Practice makes perfect. And, I can do my own laundry now. No mean feat for a guy who wouldn't separate his lights from his darks- unless I had a stick.
Sports: Sure, I don't play unless it's recreational...but the ones I am involved with I'm better at. Something to do with understanding patience and moxie. (Important in 'Fu, since rushing in will generally result in something broken) I throw a football a little better (even though I can feel it in my shoulder the next day) knock the ball a little farther (because I watch the ball) and hit a little harder...because trying to throw as hard as you can or kick as high as you can will never be as effective as throwing faster and with good form.
Singing: Just the breathing and the listening part. The sound is much better, and less forced. Thanks voice teacher.
Exercise: Again, paying attention to form and your mechanics will save your joints in the long run, and make the exercise more effective.
Being cool: This is broad, but I'll try to keep the explanation simple:
I am more self-aware around others, so I've reduced my level of obnoxion.
As a result, I am also trying to be a be a better listener, and not direct all conversations back at me.
I've stopped thinking about my behavior so much in front of others (So that I looked like I was"posing") and now I just sort of "be there".
I've tried to reduce the amount of quick judgements and snappy insults and comebacks which tend to diminish a person (In the interest of empowering the insulter) and tried to replace them with kindness and compliments. (Someone called it cheesy...but I'll take that over being called an asshole) Except with Carlton.
I'm starting to like the calmer, cooler, older me. As opposed to the insulting motormouth dickhead of my early to mid/late 20's. Poorer in wealth, but richer in love. Make sense?
Better lover/partner. A bit better. Slower, Patient, Understanding, not as needy. Getting better too. I hope. And the flirting isn't all "glaharbalaharlhab" and Ooooooo, they kissed me on the cheek and that means they liiiiike me. Nope. Comfortably me. Moxie and Finesse.
Better Eater: I know I get teased about not eating sweets, I know. (Those bike rides I mentioned earlier? Well before puberty and posing, a majority of those rides circa age 13 were to Speedy Market for a Hostess Apple Pie, Frozen-Choco Taco, 2 bottles of Jolt, and gummi worms) BUT, I've become more adventurous in my cuisine. As a kid, I was the one who would go to the Chinese restaurant and get a burger. Or any place that didn't have something that would resemble, said, burger. Now I say "bring it on!"
I can make phone calls now: As a kid, the phone terrified me.
I'm a better nudist: Okay, so as a kid at camp we had to take PI (Poison Ivy) baths and they had to be in the raw. So, you had a bunch of scouts running full bore to the lake with their bars of Fels Naptha soap. (I was nick-named "The White Streak")
This is kinda weird, 'cause when I was a little-little-little tike my mom told me (And tells my friends too. I have destroyed the nude polaroid from my pool party age 5 1/2...Thanks mom, for humiliation.) That I had no problems stripping my clothes off and jumping into peoples pools.
I've come full circle where it is really no big thing. Get it? "No-big"...Hardey Har Har?...grower, not a ?....nevermind.
Mother 2 is thanking her lucky stars that she hasn't seen "The White Streak" bolting up 29th when she's out walking the hounds. My neighbors, however, aren't so lucky.
"_______(My full first name, shouted by J) PUT YOUR CLOTHES ON!!! THE NEIGHBORS ARE OUTSIDE!!!"
This is too long, I should probably put part 3 on a separate post.
Camping/Being outdoorsey. I used to camp all the time and nothing made me happier than being out under the stars with a sleeping bag, ground cloth, and the sounds of nature. Now, I'd probably get so frustrated with putting the tent together I'd karate chop it or something dumb. My family and I camped all the time, from when I was a little-little kid...to the last time I went which was, Ooooooh, 1998? I can still start fires though...buh-wah-ha-ha!
Acting with Reckless Abandon. Teachers, Coaches, other parents...used to call it "Hyperactivity" but I beg differ. And differ to beg. I remember sort of plowing into everything "head first" without threat or fear of personal safety. I don't do that anymore which I guess is called "common sense" but I feels more like a flinch, or like I'm 2nd guessing myself. (This was apparent the last time I was asked by my folks to go up the ladder and onto their roof. "Is the ladder secure?","Dad can you hold it?" "Are there any soft parts in the shingles?" Also the pseudo-vertigo after losing my grip at the top.) Sometimes, I miss that lack of self-awareness...and since going to college and learning about "acting" I am so much more self aware, when I should be back "taking bigger risks"
Shooting things. In Scouts, it'd piss my big brother off to no end that I could do a little better than he would at archery and on the rifle range. (He loved shooting and throwing knives and shit. Except, he wore glasses, so he always had to "over-correct" Get it?) I got merit badges and the offer to join the junior rifle squad, etc.
I haven't fired a gun since High School, and to be honest, I hate them. A lot. I don't think I'd mind getting on the archery range again though.
Hockey. Like I said before, I haven't had a pair of ice skates on in 14 years. Last time I was at my folks, I dorked around with my old hockey stick (Yes, they still had it) and tried to slap shot a stuffed doggie toy, and it wound up on the roof of their house.
( That, Geef, is why it was up there. )
Biking. Again, I may just be out of practice, but since getting my drivers license I've been on a bicycle a total of 6 times. Seriously. I've just been a jogger/runner. And when I was recently given my brothers old bike, I inflated the tires and gave it a test spin. I started to think of the days when I was 12 to 15...and I used to bike EVERY-where. The entire NW suburbs were my turf, and it seemed like it took me years to get from point A to point B. (Even if it was only a handful of miles) And these memories played out like a movie... In the two seconds after I got on the bike and just as promptly fell on my ass. (I blamed the seat)
Drawing: Which I used to do all the time. I just, don't anymore. I took classes and everything...
Things I am better at as I get older
Domestic tasks: Cooking and Laundry. I used to cook like my dad. Everything on the stove with the burner on "Hi". I've learned finesse. And to use other spices besides "Salt" and "Saltier". 12 Spices? There must be doubles... I'm getting better at chicken, grillin, cooking pasta, breakfasts. Practice makes perfect. And, I can do my own laundry now. No mean feat for a guy who wouldn't separate his lights from his darks- unless I had a stick.
Sports: Sure, I don't play unless it's recreational...but the ones I am involved with I'm better at. Something to do with understanding patience and moxie. (Important in 'Fu, since rushing in will generally result in something broken) I throw a football a little better (even though I can feel it in my shoulder the next day) knock the ball a little farther (because I watch the ball) and hit a little harder...because trying to throw as hard as you can or kick as high as you can will never be as effective as throwing faster and with good form.
Singing: Just the breathing and the listening part. The sound is much better, and less forced. Thanks voice teacher.
Exercise: Again, paying attention to form and your mechanics will save your joints in the long run, and make the exercise more effective.
Being cool: This is broad, but I'll try to keep the explanation simple:
I am more self-aware around others, so I've reduced my level of obnoxion.
As a result, I am also trying to be a be a better listener, and not direct all conversations back at me.
I've stopped thinking about my behavior so much in front of others (So that I looked like I was"posing") and now I just sort of "be there".
I've tried to reduce the amount of quick judgements and snappy insults and comebacks which tend to diminish a person (In the interest of empowering the insulter) and tried to replace them with kindness and compliments. (Someone called it cheesy...but I'll take that over being called an asshole) Except with Carlton.
I'm starting to like the calmer, cooler, older me. As opposed to the insulting motormouth dickhead of my early to mid/late 20's. Poorer in wealth, but richer in love. Make sense?
Better lover/partner. A bit better. Slower, Patient, Understanding, not as needy. Getting better too. I hope. And the flirting isn't all "glaharbalaharlhab" and Ooooooo, they kissed me on the cheek and that means they liiiiike me. Nope. Comfortably me. Moxie and Finesse.
Better Eater: I know I get teased about not eating sweets, I know. (Those bike rides I mentioned earlier? Well before puberty and posing, a majority of those rides circa age 13 were to Speedy Market for a Hostess Apple Pie, Frozen-Choco Taco, 2 bottles of Jolt, and gummi worms) BUT, I've become more adventurous in my cuisine. As a kid, I was the one who would go to the Chinese restaurant and get a burger. Or any place that didn't have something that would resemble, said, burger. Now I say "bring it on!"
I can make phone calls now: As a kid, the phone terrified me.
I'm a better nudist: Okay, so as a kid at camp we had to take PI (Poison Ivy) baths and they had to be in the raw. So, you had a bunch of scouts running full bore to the lake with their bars of Fels Naptha soap. (I was nick-named "The White Streak")
This is kinda weird, 'cause when I was a little-little-little tike my mom told me (And tells my friends too. I have destroyed the nude polaroid from my pool party age 5 1/2...Thanks mom, for humiliation.) That I had no problems stripping my clothes off and jumping into peoples pools.
I've come full circle where it is really no big thing. Get it? "No-big"...Hardey Har Har?...grower, not a ?....nevermind.
Mother 2 is thanking her lucky stars that she hasn't seen "The White Streak" bolting up 29th when she's out walking the hounds. My neighbors, however, aren't so lucky.
"_______(My full first name, shouted by J) PUT YOUR CLOTHES ON!!! THE NEIGHBORS ARE OUTSIDE!!!"
This is too long, I should probably put part 3 on a separate post.
Party at the Formal Wear Store!
Last night at work:
3 guh-boys came into the store, 2 of them mid to late 40's. The last, 22-23 years old, if a day. They were in need of a tux for the young'un so they could attend a gala on Saturday. The youngster was a little pretty boy buffster, wearing a tight hot-pink faded t-shirt...raggedy cargo's...and flip flops. As I measured out the young man, he proved to be a bit on the fidgety side, always pulling up his shirt and chatting with the one gentlemen who I figured to be his significant other.
As I got the waist measurement, what to my eyes should appear but the telltale waistband on each side of his hips- Of "Le thong"*
'Kay.
I get 'em his shirt, and point them in the general direction of pants/appropriate coats/and vests, while I go over and help out a dad and his son ("Just joined the HS harmonic orchestra!") get fitted for his big kid tux.
As I finish checking out the father/son duo (A miracle since this kid was a 34 R coat...practically a large kids size. I made a faux-pas by asking the dad if he is going to be a sophomore this year. Nope. Turns out the kid is a senior. That's right, this kid who looked like he was 13 or 14 is entering the 12th grade. Whoops) I couldn't help but notice the dad looked a little uptight. I attributed this to the fact that (A) he's a suburbanite and (B) probably doesn't have much experience dealing with same-sex couples in close quarters. Yeah, it's an assumption, but I work in the 'burbs and hear a lot of crap like that. Not everyone can have an open mind, y'know?
I go over to check on the boys, and I observe a couple of things:
1) There are a couple of tux pants off of the hanger, randomly hanging on the rack. **
2) 22 year old pretty boy was wearing a pair, albeit a little too long
3) 22 year old pretty boys tattered cargo pants were lying across the counter.
Hmmmmm.
I ask if they have any questions, they say "Do you think these are too long" I say "Kinda, maybe you want a little bit shorter" they say "Okay, we have a pair that are the same waist but 2 inches shorter" and hand the shorter trou to the 22 year party boy.
Who proceeds to take of the pants in the middle of the store.
'Kay, 2.0
I quickly turn away to go in the back, creating some business, and over my shoulder I hear one of them say "As you can tell, he's not a big fan of changing rooms"
Not wanting to be a jerk (and, thanking goodness the store was deserted) I said:
"No worries. It doesn't become that kind of store until after 10pm"
They ended up buying $200 worth of merchandise.
The End, or, his End.
ps: To my "Lovers of Tatt's"- He did have the little sunfire tatto around his belly button
pps: These dude's didn't buy my brand of bullshit either. Except when the pretty boy buffster was fidgeting with the jacket, arms both extended outward and I say "Well, I hear the crucifixion pose is quite popular in formalwear this year." (Chuckles)
** The men were kind enough to hang up every single article of clothing they tried on. A rarity, in a store that people sometimes treat as a college student treats their dorm. Again, a generalization, but I appreciated their immaculate tendencies regardless.
3 guh-boys came into the store, 2 of them mid to late 40's. The last, 22-23 years old, if a day. They were in need of a tux for the young'un so they could attend a gala on Saturday. The youngster was a little pretty boy buffster, wearing a tight hot-pink faded t-shirt...raggedy cargo's...and flip flops. As I measured out the young man, he proved to be a bit on the fidgety side, always pulling up his shirt and chatting with the one gentlemen who I figured to be his significant other.
As I got the waist measurement, what to my eyes should appear but the telltale waistband on each side of his hips- Of "Le thong"*
'Kay.
I get 'em his shirt, and point them in the general direction of pants/appropriate coats/and vests, while I go over and help out a dad and his son ("Just joined the HS harmonic orchestra!") get fitted for his big kid tux.
As I finish checking out the father/son duo (A miracle since this kid was a 34 R coat...practically a large kids size. I made a faux-pas by asking the dad if he is going to be a sophomore this year. Nope. Turns out the kid is a senior. That's right, this kid who looked like he was 13 or 14 is entering the 12th grade. Whoops) I couldn't help but notice the dad looked a little uptight. I attributed this to the fact that (A) he's a suburbanite and (B) probably doesn't have much experience dealing with same-sex couples in close quarters. Yeah, it's an assumption, but I work in the 'burbs and hear a lot of crap like that. Not everyone can have an open mind, y'know?
I go over to check on the boys, and I observe a couple of things:
1) There are a couple of tux pants off of the hanger, randomly hanging on the rack. **
2) 22 year old pretty boy was wearing a pair, albeit a little too long
3) 22 year old pretty boys tattered cargo pants were lying across the counter.
Hmmmmm.
I ask if they have any questions, they say "Do you think these are too long" I say "Kinda, maybe you want a little bit shorter" they say "Okay, we have a pair that are the same waist but 2 inches shorter" and hand the shorter trou to the 22 year party boy.
Who proceeds to take of the pants in the middle of the store.
'Kay, 2.0
I quickly turn away to go in the back, creating some business, and over my shoulder I hear one of them say "As you can tell, he's not a big fan of changing rooms"
Not wanting to be a jerk (and, thanking goodness the store was deserted) I said:
"No worries. It doesn't become that kind of store until after 10pm"
They ended up buying $200 worth of merchandise.
The End, or, his End.
ps: To my "Lovers of Tatt's"- He did have the little sunfire tatto around his belly button
pps: These dude's didn't buy my brand of bullshit either. Except when the pretty boy buffster was fidgeting with the jacket, arms both extended outward and I say "Well, I hear the crucifixion pose is quite popular in formalwear this year." (Chuckles)
** The men were kind enough to hang up every single article of clothing they tried on. A rarity, in a store that people sometimes treat as a college student treats their dorm. Again, a generalization, but I appreciated their immaculate tendencies regardless.
Friday, September 16, 2005
Dammit!
I've quite possibly taken the level of personal stupidity to an all new high. I think I scratched my nose with a pen. With the cap off. There is a smudge of ink on my nose right now. It has brought my co-workers untold joy.
I'm seeing how long I can keep it on there.
I have a cold today. At least, I think I do. I'm not the "get sick" kinda guy (Knocks on laminate covered particle board desk) so you may possibly imagine my confusion and chagrin when I wake up and my nose is running like a thief. (Thanks Mama-San 2) I'm going to attribute this to staying up late to make for face time w/my baby and then trying to get up at 5:30am to make the most of the OT my office is currently offering. All while working out and trying to maintain a healthy balance of wine-to-blood ratio. Burning El Candle at the front and back.
Yeah. This is seriously putting a cramp in my (normal) invulnerability. Last time I was sick was, oh, 2002? Last time I was laid out sick has to have been, shoot, I can't even remember.
I even forgot the password to my online benefits provider. Imagine my surprise when I found out I have a doctor right up the street even. Which reminds me...I have my 5 year physical coming due. Yep, the one where they tap your boys and make you cough. Always a steller way to start your day.
Sick. And I hate it. And I seriously do not want to be around self-involved fussybritches tonight whilst managing house. 1st my immune system goes bunk, then my BS tolerance follows suit.
I'm seeing how long I can keep it on there.
I have a cold today. At least, I think I do. I'm not the "get sick" kinda guy (Knocks on laminate covered particle board desk) so you may possibly imagine my confusion and chagrin when I wake up and my nose is running like a thief. (Thanks Mama-San 2) I'm going to attribute this to staying up late to make for face time w/my baby and then trying to get up at 5:30am to make the most of the OT my office is currently offering. All while working out and trying to maintain a healthy balance of wine-to-blood ratio. Burning El Candle at the front and back.
Yeah. This is seriously putting a cramp in my (normal) invulnerability. Last time I was sick was, oh, 2002? Last time I was laid out sick has to have been, shoot, I can't even remember.
I even forgot the password to my online benefits provider. Imagine my surprise when I found out I have a doctor right up the street even. Which reminds me...I have my 5 year physical coming due. Yep, the one where they tap your boys and make you cough. Always a steller way to start your day.
Sick. And I hate it. And I seriously do not want to be around self-involved fussybritches tonight whilst managing house. 1st my immune system goes bunk, then my BS tolerance follows suit.
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
Prized Possessions
I picked this up from Planetdan.net (He's a guy I went to high school with who is now a photoshop mastah. In a weird co-inky-dink, Jabas was the one that turned me on to the sight. After looking through his pics I soon discovered that "oh, I went to HS with this dude". We were in German together.)
Anyway, with everyone in my family moving/recently moved (And in light of recent tragic events) we've all had to take stock of our stuff and (in an especially painful gesture for my mother) get rid of a fair majority of it. I told my mom "If it is something that you would take from your burning house, or would want buried with you: Take it to the new place. Your 5 cent paperbacks in a box out in the garage do not count." Mother tends to associate her stuff with memories, so parting with it is akin to forced amputation.
So, I put it out there: If your home/apt was going bye-bye due to (Insert catastrophic happening here) what would you save? Try and keep it under 10 items. And pets/loved ones don't count
I'm asking, because I look around my place and it all has value- yet I don't have anything that I'd call intensely valuable. (See Planetdan for that) nothing autographed, nothing rare...nada.
1- My running shoes.
2- My bathrobe
3-My picture box ('nuff said. It's heavy, but they're all in there)
4-My cell phone
5-My ichi-yen necklace. The only lasting piece of jewelry I own. I would destroy my own home to find it, were it lost.
If I wound up in a world ala' "The Stand" and had to travel with a back pack.
(And besides the necessary camping oddities)
-Comfy black walk/run shoes. Ninja shoes, dig?
-Comfy cargo pants. Yeah, I'm kinda Dirk Pitted, so?
-Zippered Hoody
-My Multi-Tool pocket knife
-Gum
-My bathrobe
-Michael Jacksons HIStory (Greatest Hits) Way I see it, Michael Jackson is like the Roman Empire of Pop Music. Rise, Decline, all that jazz. Plus, as I wander the earth like the "Omega Man"...I gotta have something to strut too.
Pretty basic.
Anyway, with everyone in my family moving/recently moved (And in light of recent tragic events) we've all had to take stock of our stuff and (in an especially painful gesture for my mother) get rid of a fair majority of it. I told my mom "If it is something that you would take from your burning house, or would want buried with you: Take it to the new place. Your 5 cent paperbacks in a box out in the garage do not count." Mother tends to associate her stuff with memories, so parting with it is akin to forced amputation.
So, I put it out there: If your home/apt was going bye-bye due to (Insert catastrophic happening here) what would you save? Try and keep it under 10 items. And pets/loved ones don't count
I'm asking, because I look around my place and it all has value- yet I don't have anything that I'd call intensely valuable. (See Planetdan for that) nothing autographed, nothing rare...nada.
1- My running shoes.
2- My bathrobe
3-My picture box ('nuff said. It's heavy, but they're all in there)
4-My cell phone
5-My ichi-yen necklace. The only lasting piece of jewelry I own. I would destroy my own home to find it, were it lost.
If I wound up in a world ala' "The Stand" and had to travel with a back pack.
(And besides the necessary camping oddities)
-Comfy black walk/run shoes. Ninja shoes, dig?
-Comfy cargo pants. Yeah, I'm kinda Dirk Pitted, so?
-Zippered Hoody
-My Multi-Tool pocket knife
-Gum
-My bathrobe
-Michael Jacksons HIStory (Greatest Hits) Way I see it, Michael Jackson is like the Roman Empire of Pop Music. Rise, Decline, all that jazz. Plus, as I wander the earth like the "Omega Man"...I gotta have something to strut too.
Pretty basic.
Thursday, September 08, 2005
"I'm gonna learn jujitsu?"
This post may seem a little boy-centric, so advanced apologies.
So my instructor got himself a wild hair up his butt and after stretching, doing our "Torquemada" exercises (Slow sidekicks with leg weights. They buuuurn.) he decides to spend the last part of class teaching Ju Jitsu concepts. For the Martial Arts Luddite, Ju Jitsu is the style O' Martial art that usually gets showcased in all of those pay-per-view full contact fights. (Ultimate Fighting Championships, K1, etc.) It's a grappling* style akin to wrestling which uses joint and leg locks to help secure, restrain, or otherwise destroy your opponent.
Except when you practice it? Ya look prrreeetttty gaaaay. Gay.
And it took just about all of my self control not to make a comment.
"Okay, Mr. P: I want you to lie flat on your back, and Mr.___ is going to mount you. Mr.___, you're gonna want to kneel a little further up on his chest. There you go, now wrap your legs around his waist Mr.P. Goooooooood. Then you're gonna want to buck your hips...."
Homo-Erotic Imagery abounds. I nearly lost it, but I was able to keep the "tea-bag" jokes in check. Good for me. And, I got to start re-learning ju-jitsu (Our instructor attends the Gracie Seminars in Cali. He has stories of little Brazilian kids who've practiced for years tossing adults around like they were dolls.)
And today? My bruises have bruises. On the back of my calves, no less.
* There are 2 major Martial Art categories: Striking and Grappling and their concepts are exactly as they are titled. Striking primarily focuses on punches and kicks, and Grappling relies on trapping the opponents limbs, redirecting their energy, and choking.
Some Examples of Striking Martial Arts:
Boxing, Karate (and it's sub-styles), Kung Fu/Wushu (and it's sub-styles), Tae Kwon Do, Krav Maga, Kali, Capoeria, Pentjak Silat, Savate, Kenpo (Chi-nese, Japanese, Dirty-knees, Lookit these!)
Some Examples of Grappling Martial Arts:
Aikido, Ju Jitsu, Wrestling, Pankration, Judo, Sumo-tori
Example of Martial Arts before you've had any caffeine: Tai Chi
So my instructor got himself a wild hair up his butt and after stretching, doing our "Torquemada" exercises (Slow sidekicks with leg weights. They buuuurn.) he decides to spend the last part of class teaching Ju Jitsu concepts. For the Martial Arts Luddite, Ju Jitsu is the style O' Martial art that usually gets showcased in all of those pay-per-view full contact fights. (Ultimate Fighting Championships, K1, etc.) It's a grappling* style akin to wrestling which uses joint and leg locks to help secure, restrain, or otherwise destroy your opponent.
Except when you practice it? Ya look prrreeetttty gaaaay. Gay.
And it took just about all of my self control not to make a comment.
"Okay, Mr. P: I want you to lie flat on your back, and Mr.___ is going to mount you. Mr.___, you're gonna want to kneel a little further up on his chest. There you go, now wrap your legs around his waist Mr.P. Goooooooood. Then you're gonna want to buck your hips...."
Homo-Erotic Imagery abounds. I nearly lost it, but I was able to keep the "tea-bag" jokes in check. Good for me. And, I got to start re-learning ju-jitsu (Our instructor attends the Gracie Seminars in Cali. He has stories of little Brazilian kids who've practiced for years tossing adults around like they were dolls.)
And today? My bruises have bruises. On the back of my calves, no less.
* There are 2 major Martial Art categories: Striking and Grappling and their concepts are exactly as they are titled. Striking primarily focuses on punches and kicks, and Grappling relies on trapping the opponents limbs, redirecting their energy, and choking.
Some Examples of Striking Martial Arts:
Boxing, Karate (and it's sub-styles), Kung Fu/Wushu (and it's sub-styles), Tae Kwon Do, Krav Maga, Kali, Capoeria, Pentjak Silat, Savate, Kenpo (Chi-nese, Japanese, Dirty-knees, Lookit these!)
Some Examples of Grappling Martial Arts:
Aikido, Ju Jitsu, Wrestling, Pankration, Judo, Sumo-tori
Example of Martial Arts before you've had any caffeine: Tai Chi
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
3 Part harmony
I'm gonna break this up into three separate and specific posts detailing the weekend. So, check back fur updates.
After work this last Friday, I met w/my extended fam (Dad's side) for dinner at a chain seafood joint here in the 'Grove. (Think about the seafood joint that was made fun of in "My Best Friends Wedding", mixed with Chotchkie's. ) Apparently, my aunt and uncle were visiting from the West Coast and it would be a good chance for me to finally meet my Goddaughter.
Me: "My...Gah, what?"
Dad: "You know you're her Godfather, right?"
Me: "(mumbling)Mmmnauaamonooo...Yes? What's his(zer) name, again?"
Dad: (yelling) "MY FIRST, MIDDLE, AND LAST NAME"!
Anyway, she was a cutie. (Think "Lilo" in "Lilo & Stitch") since both she, and my big bro's Goddaughter being adopted. Very sweet and well behaved. I was also able to see my other Uncle and Aunt (Poor man, having recently been treated to 3 open heart surgeries and the placement of stents. Although he had a seriously bad-ass cane.)
No, my non-plussedness came about (first) because of the food: I was extremely underwhelmed by the Salmon Rockefeller. Everyone else didn't mind their own choices, so, hello. Say Hi to Mr. Oceannaire-Snob. (2nd) The ambience:This place is stuck in 1999. Seriously. The songs "Mambo # 5", "YMCA Mega-Mix", and [shudder] "Macarena" were played very loudly. And the best part? The servers came out and DANCED for you. Fun little "made-up" 'ography that the staff performed with relish.
And with their asses way too close to my head. When I was eating.
"Why are they doing this?" my auntie asks
"They're being punished" was my reply.
Then I mimed swallowing a suicide pill (kept in a ring) and we wrapped up dinner. I brought J home some hush puppies and a crab cake. That's right. $6.99, and you only get a cake. Singular. Not even big enough to constitute "patty" status.
So yeah. It's nice to fraternize with family. Just stay away from restaurants that sound like "Hoe's Flab Tack".
After work this last Friday, I met w/my extended fam (Dad's side) for dinner at a chain seafood joint here in the 'Grove. (Think about the seafood joint that was made fun of in "My Best Friends Wedding", mixed with Chotchkie's. ) Apparently, my aunt and uncle were visiting from the West Coast and it would be a good chance for me to finally meet my Goddaughter.
Me: "My...Gah, what?"
Dad: "You know you're her Godfather, right?"
Me: "(mumbling)Mmmnauaamonooo...Yes? What's his(zer) name, again?"
Dad: (yelling) "MY FIRST, MIDDLE, AND LAST NAME"!
Anyway, she was a cutie. (Think "Lilo" in "Lilo & Stitch") since both she, and my big bro's Goddaughter being adopted. Very sweet and well behaved. I was also able to see my other Uncle and Aunt (Poor man, having recently been treated to 3 open heart surgeries and the placement of stents. Although he had a seriously bad-ass cane.)
No, my non-plussedness came about (first) because of the food: I was extremely underwhelmed by the Salmon Rockefeller. Everyone else didn't mind their own choices, so, hello. Say Hi to Mr. Oceannaire-Snob. (2nd) The ambience:This place is stuck in 1999. Seriously. The songs "Mambo # 5", "YMCA Mega-Mix", and [shudder] "Macarena" were played very loudly. And the best part? The servers came out and DANCED for you. Fun little "made-up" 'ography that the staff performed with relish.
And with their asses way too close to my head. When I was eating.
"Why are they doing this?" my auntie asks
"They're being punished" was my reply.
Then I mimed swallowing a suicide pill (kept in a ring) and we wrapped up dinner. I brought J home some hush puppies and a crab cake. That's right. $6.99, and you only get a cake. Singular. Not even big enough to constitute "patty" status.
So yeah. It's nice to fraternize with family. Just stay away from restaurants that sound like "Hoe's Flab Tack".
Thursday, September 01, 2005
TBYS*
*Think before you speak.
Or before you write something. Or, you know, before you decide to invade a foreign territory. I'm just sayin'.
I had a bunch of really snarky, mean-spirited things written just a few mo's ago. And I deleted'em. They were just too damn dumb.
"If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all"
I can dig it. (Can't say I'm entirely innocent, but yeah)
"There is much power in listening"
Cool. I can dig that too.
"Stop Looking Into things P!"
Right. Best not to search for a deeper meaning when there really isn't one. As my darling fiancee' is wont to remind me. (It keeps me from asking "What's Wrong" if there is more than 2 minutes of silence in our house, you know? THAT would be an annoying habit.)
I am amazed by peoples capacity for kindness and understanding. Under times of stress, I've heard that we are actually at our best.
Similarly, I'm amazed by peoples capacity to limit their own perspective- Even when a person genuinely seems to want to be known as worldly or enlightened. They are fraught with the same sad paranoid judgements that they perceive in those around them. They are the reactionaries, argumentatives, and individuals who make the choice to limit their worldview by engaging in thoughtless verbal sparring for they lack patience. Sometimes, they assume that others don't care as much as they do about a particular issue or concern or topic because they perceive that nothing is being said. They mistake thoughtful contemplation for mere complacency. They rail against the injustice of things...the fairness. Isn't that type of judgement counter-productive? So much easier to just kinda jump into the fray, right?
"Life isn't fair, P. It isn't here to make you feel good. I'm a cop- I've got people making me feel bad every day. The only thing that you can do, is let it go. It's unrealistic to accept those things for what they are. I'm a realist."
(Actually. Dad was more of a pessimist, at least more so than he wanted to believe.)
I mean, look at the terrible situation in N.O. Terrible. The devastation is just overwhelming. Just as terrible as a December Tsunami. Or 800 poor men/women/children getting trampled and drowned because of a rumor. Or a poor man with Downs Syndrome being found at the bottom of a hole in the sidewalk. Terrible situations that break the heart, and too often short-circuit the mind, causing us to speak and write with fury and reckless abandon (Or go into shock). Great things can come of slowly stirring the pot, but more often it exacerbates and alienates both the listener/reader...the speaker/writer. Anger is a natural response to our fears and concerns...sometimes even "righteous" anger. (I'm guilty of it too) Pacifists and those who lean toward agressive behaviors would both agree that there can never any really good decisions made in the heat of an angry moment.
I've never purported to be good at withholding my feelings or thoughts ...and sometimes, the world is too much with me. IT scares me. Makes me fearful. I will not, however, let a world that keeps moving: Stop me. Because I believe in my heart I can find so much more satisfaction by not following the path of least resistance, and continue to challenge myself to rise above the need for immediate gratification (Which is, to say, be a reactionary.) I certainly hope to be consistent at it some day.
And it would be nice if the world could just take a deep collective breathe- And calm down.
Or before you write something. Or, you know, before you decide to invade a foreign territory. I'm just sayin'.
I had a bunch of really snarky, mean-spirited things written just a few mo's ago. And I deleted'em. They were just too damn dumb.
"If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all"
I can dig it. (Can't say I'm entirely innocent, but yeah)
"There is much power in listening"
Cool. I can dig that too.
"Stop Looking Into things P!"
Right. Best not to search for a deeper meaning when there really isn't one. As my darling fiancee' is wont to remind me. (It keeps me from asking "What's Wrong" if there is more than 2 minutes of silence in our house, you know? THAT would be an annoying habit.)
I am amazed by peoples capacity for kindness and understanding. Under times of stress, I've heard that we are actually at our best.
Similarly, I'm amazed by peoples capacity to limit their own perspective- Even when a person genuinely seems to want to be known as worldly or enlightened. They are fraught with the same sad paranoid judgements that they perceive in those around them. They are the reactionaries, argumentatives, and individuals who make the choice to limit their worldview by engaging in thoughtless verbal sparring for they lack patience. Sometimes, they assume that others don't care as much as they do about a particular issue or concern or topic because they perceive that nothing is being said. They mistake thoughtful contemplation for mere complacency. They rail against the injustice of things...the fairness. Isn't that type of judgement counter-productive? So much easier to just kinda jump into the fray, right?
"Life isn't fair, P. It isn't here to make you feel good. I'm a cop- I've got people making me feel bad every day. The only thing that you can do, is let it go. It's unrealistic to accept those things for what they are. I'm a realist."
(Actually. Dad was more of a pessimist, at least more so than he wanted to believe.)
I mean, look at the terrible situation in N.O. Terrible. The devastation is just overwhelming. Just as terrible as a December Tsunami. Or 800 poor men/women/children getting trampled and drowned because of a rumor. Or a poor man with Downs Syndrome being found at the bottom of a hole in the sidewalk. Terrible situations that break the heart, and too often short-circuit the mind, causing us to speak and write with fury and reckless abandon (Or go into shock). Great things can come of slowly stirring the pot, but more often it exacerbates and alienates both the listener/reader...the speaker/writer. Anger is a natural response to our fears and concerns...sometimes even "righteous" anger. (I'm guilty of it too) Pacifists and those who lean toward agressive behaviors would both agree that there can never any really good decisions made in the heat of an angry moment.
I've never purported to be good at withholding my feelings or thoughts ...and sometimes, the world is too much with me. IT scares me. Makes me fearful. I will not, however, let a world that keeps moving: Stop me. Because I believe in my heart I can find so much more satisfaction by not following the path of least resistance, and continue to challenge myself to rise above the need for immediate gratification (Which is, to say, be a reactionary.) I certainly hope to be consistent at it some day.
And it would be nice if the world could just take a deep collective breathe- And calm down.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)