I Have Found A New House~~Yay Me!!

My search for a new place to live has come to an end. I have found a small three room house which has all the room I need.

It sort of looks like a little hobbit house, lol.

This is just a representation of my new place, sans landscaping, but it's about the same size.

 

I am a pretty simple man when it comes to my everyday needs. A bathroom, a kitchen and a room for a small bed, my recliner, a television and my computer and I am a happy man, lol. Life is good.



I have given much thought to my moves over the past few years, four times in seven years, and have come to the conclusion that I live in apartments or houses but it has been a long time since I have lived in a place I could call 'Home'. I left my family home at age 16 to start college and never returned except for holidays. College, the army, more college and then a home with my children until they grew up. Now where I live is less important as how I live. At the end of each day if I can say I did something worth while or I learned something new my day was a success.

If I can say I was a good God loving man on an given day then it was a good day. Life does not have to be full of human contact every minute of every day to be a good life. A few good people that care about you is all you need. Someone that makes you smile everyday(thank you Cee) makes living an easy thing to do.

Ways to entertain yourself, music, books, writing, movies, television and nature for me, are essential to our well being.

By weeks end my blog will be coming from my little 'hobbit house' and I will be my good old cheerful self; being irreverent, silly and even serious at times.

Life is good kiddies.

Randy

Volleyball Shorts~~An Amazing Invention

"The bud packed tight with its miracle swayed stiffly on the breaths of air. Moved as though impelled by strings within itself"', Robert Earl Hayden.

 

Why do men watch women's volleyball? IT'S THE SHORTS!! IT'S THE SHORTS!! IT'S THE SHORTS!! IT'S THE SHORTS!! IT'S THE SHORTS!! IT'S THE SHORTS!! IT'S THE SHORTS!!

 

Have I made my point, lol. Slap spandex shorts on a volleyball player's body and it becomes more than sport. It becomes a female anatomical overload experience for the males of our species. It is like watching a Victoria Secret fashion show with models that possess great bodies but are athletic to the extreme.

 

 

These shorts had to be invented by a man but have been embraced by players everywhere. Question? Have you ever seen a female volleyball player you would not want to date? If you answered no you are either gay or freaking bizarre.

Here is another of my observations; the older the players get the sexier they seem to be. It proves that if you take care of your body, your body will take care of you. I am a prime example of someone who did not subscribe to that adage. My body beats me up every morning just to make a point as to how badly I have treated it over the years.

I know I will get some 'What a Sexist Blog' comments but this is not meant to be sexist. I admire the work ethic put in by these talented athletes. I will not lie; I do look at then with admiration as to their looks but HEY I AM A MAN!!. Albeit an old dilapidated man but still a man.

So take in a volleyball game when you can. Enjoy the view. But especially enjoy the game itself.

"I went to a fashion show and a volleyball game broke out".

Randy

The Way of The Ass

"I hate when people say, He's nice once you get to know him. They might as well say, He's an asshole, but you'll get used to it!", Unknown.

 

The 'ASS' takes on a life of its own. It can be loved, adored, admired, fondled, pampered, tattooed, exercised and squeezed into pants 3 sizes to small for its girth.

 

It can be the focal point of a conversation or a condemnation of another person; he's an ass, she's an asshole or he acts like an ass.

 

You can ride your ass to town. You can refuse to get off your ass and work. You can go out and get a little ass or not depending on how great an asshole you are.

 

You can kiss someone and say "WOW that tastes like ass!". I always wonder how people who say that know what ass tastes like?

You can be a bad ass, a good ass, a small ass, a big ass, a cold ass or a hot ass.

You can tell someone to kiss your ass; which is either a derogatory comment or an invitation to 'tap that ass'.

You can apologize by saying "Sorry, I was an Ass".

There was once a Feast Day for the Ass. Not the human kind. The animal kind. A celebration of the ass for carrying a pregnant Mary to Bethlehem and Jesus to Egypt to save his life.

 "'I,' said the donkey, shaggy and brown. I carried his mother uphill and down. I carried his mother to Bethlehem town. 'I,' said the donkey shaggy and brown", from the Christmas carol The Friendly Beasts.

Actually my favorite Christmas song growing up was 'Dominick The Italian Christmas Donkey'.

I have gotten off track here. Back to the human ass. A thing of beauty, and sometimes disdain, that has a brain of its own. 

Case in point; you are constipated for days, at a time when you are off work and hanging around the house close to the bathroom. The day you return to work you remain constipated until you are in the car and stuck in traffic. No bathroom in site. Your stomach aching. Afraid to fart because it may become a productive fart and cause embarrassment at work.

Then that phenomenon, particular to the ass, occurs. TURTLIING!!! The act of the tip of your poop sticking out just a short distance. But enough to make your discomfort excruciating.

You arrive at work and rush to the bathroom where the turtle ducks back inside and you are still constipated. Of course the turtle will return on your drive home.

The way of the ass is mysterious indeed.

The ass has been the inspiration for a plethora of human sayings, quotes and quips. Our ability to use the ass in so many ways, in our language you pervs, is just another way of displaying our humanity.

Of course we could use less assholes in the world.

It is up to us to take the good ass with the bad and move forward in a somewhat provocative sway; eyes glued to it just to see what comes out next.

Randy

The Art Of Being Offbeat

OFFBEAT~ being different from the ordinary, usual, or expected. Goldie Hawn's laugh, snorting when you laugh, Tiny Tim's voice, Larry The Cable Guy, a straight forward politician, a girl with two different sized boobs and tampons used to stop nose bleeds; all offbeat things or people.

The Art of Being Offbeat, and it is an art form, is what puts the 'Interesting' into our lives. If we were all the same or we all conformed to what ever is considered 'normal behavior' life would be boring indeed.

In Second Life we can carry the offbeat to the extreme while maintaining a rather boring real life persona. A real life nurse can live as a vampire, saloon girl or exotic dancer in Second Life. A male real life accountant can be a clown, cowboy or knight.

We can craft our bodies into any form we choose, both human and animal. Those who never played a sport can skate Roller Derby, play football or become a boxer. We have no limitations as to what persona we choose to create.

The fun is in being something different than what we are in real life. Personally I like to pick out those that are offbeat in their real lives as well as in Second Life. Some people truly love to push the limit of persona in what ever they do. I like to friend these kinds of people.

Dr. Frederick Frankenstein: "Would you mind telling me, whose brain I did put in?"

Igor:" And you won't be angry?"

Dr. Frederick Frankenstein: "I will not be angry."

Igor: "Abby someone."

Dr. Frederick Frankenstein: "Abby who?"

Igor: "Abby Normal."

Young Frankenstein (1974)

 

Now that says it all.

 

Randy

Putting On The Drapes

"Doth Mother Know You Wear-eth Her Drapes?" - Tony Stark (Iron Man)

Your alarm goes off and you beat it into quiet submission. Staggering from your bed you look for your robe but it's no where to be seen. Someone is hammering on your front door and each strike of their hand sounds and feels like bombs going off in your brain. You grab the first thing you see to cover yourself on the way to see who is desecrating your front door.

The poor Girl Scout, her cookies in hand, sees this when you open the door. The poor child is emotionally scarred for life. While the police are hauling you off to jail charged with indecent exposure you can not get it clear in your mind how this all happened.

Thinking back to last night, through the fog of your hangover, you remember having to many drinks while trying to impress some girl whose name you can not remember. Flashes of dancing like some demented fool; mostly alone because no woman would come near you. Early in the morning you make your usually Friday night diner stop for greasy eggs and bacon. Now your stomach feels like you ate a rock and it is sitting in your colon mocking you.

Sitting in the holding cell, awaiting arraignment, you think, "I had such a great time last night. I am in jail only because I bought low quality drapes". The mind of a man trying to rationalize his bad choices is an amazing machine.

If there is a moral to this story our intrepid hero would say, "A man needs heavy high quality drapes to avoid this situation".

The judge says, " 3 months in jail, 2 years probation and pay for the Girl Scouts therapy bills".

By the way, there are no drapes on cell windows.

Randy

There Is No Music In War~There Is A Symphony In Heaven

"Music is a moral law. It gives soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination, and charm and gaiety to life and to everything", Plato.

I was asked the other day, "Is there Rock N Roll in heaven?" That got me thinking about my childhood and the war games we played as kids. Influenced by movies we always went into our childhood battles humming some sort of tune because every Hollywood battle was accompanied by music. It was not until years later, as a young adult, that I found out that there is 'no music in war'. There are only the loud discordance of sounds accompanied by other sounds we should never hear.

Upon entering Heaven, if I will be so lucky, I picture hearing a myriad of music. Both familiar and strange but all pleasant and relaxing. What I hear may not be what you hear. We all had different tastes for music in life and I think in heaven we will hear what we like but also we will hear what God likes. I think that, as much as God hates our human deficiencies and short comings, He likes our creative abilities. Music is the runway into Heaven's airport.

The Arts are what keeps all civilizations and peoples inexplicably tied together. We absorb each others music and art. We meld our creative endeavors with those of others to advance all Art forms. Without the Arts we would be dull colorless beings wandering about without feelings or emotions. A society of flesh and blood robots repelling feelings and emotions like a rain coat repels water. A Fahrenheit 451 life in nondescript gray suits that do not differentiate man from woman.

Yes there is Rock N Roll in heaven and every other kind of music. I picture myself entering to 'Somewhere Over The Rainbow' and later, while relaxing in Saint Peter's Lounge with a glass of Heavenly Beer, listening to Elvis and smiling.

"One good thing about music, when it hits you, you feel no pain", Bob Marley.

Randy

Dogs Have Owners, Cats Have Staff

"Cat's motto: No matter what you've done wrong, always try to make it look like the dog did it."

 That describes the cat that has moved into my house and has tried to take over my life. For the past 15 months I have been house sitting for an old friend. The house came with one plant, that I was informed I could let die because it belonged to her ex, and one cat that I was to keep alive. What I was not told was that the cat was in charge.

The cat's name is Tigger but is called The T Man. He has a strut to go along with that name.

 This is what everyone sees when they visit me. A calm, cute kitty waiting to be pet.

 

 

This is what I see when those same people go home. A cat with a God complex.

 

He spends most of his time outside eating, sleeping and screwing. An animal with everything, lol. I have seen him fight a Doberman and a possum for his food; and win.

 

When he is in the house he has one favorite place to lay down, a blanket placed on top of the couch by my Second Life partner. There he will stay as long as I am awake.

 

The second I fall asleep he creeps over and snuggles up to me. I have gotten use to that.



 

It's funny, there is little I feel bad about leaving behind in this house next month. Except that stupid cat. I can not take him and I will miss him.

 

Cats know how to finagle their way into our hearts.  This one certainly has managed that with me. When I first moved into the house I would not even let him come in.  That did not last long. I even started buying him a better brand of food. The little bastard won me over.

 

So I am heading out with both the cat and that plant in good shape. I guess my work is done, lol.

 

Randy

Apartment Search Day 5~Frustration, A Little Depression And An Angel At My Side

I have not had a place I could call my own in a very long time. My places of residence have been a long line of temporary apartments and houses that ranged from OK to disgusting. Each ending in me being asked to move on so someone willing and able to pay more rent could take my place. I have always accepted that as being part of my financial situation. Living hand to mouth the past few years has been hard but I have learned a lot about myself and what I am able to tolerate.

I hate this sign!!

I remember a simpler time when you rented an apartment on a hand shake and a readable lease. Now days there are credit checks, background checks and a myriad of other hoops to jump through. I understand why things are this way; I just wish things were a bit easier for a change.

I just finished an Income/Expense sheet to see what I can afford. If I only eat twice a week, do laundry every 2 weeks, shower every other day and never drive my car I can afford a decent apartment. Of course I can not afford to furnish it or do anything more than stare at the walls but I will be sheltered and out of the elements, lol.

Through all of this apartment hunt depression my Second Life partner and Real Life best friend, CeeCee, has stood by me. She has been encouraging and stronger than I. She works hard to keep me from becoming to down and pushes a smile onto my face every chance she gets. I am sure I would have given up had it not been for CeeCee.

I have 32 days to find a decent place to live before I take up residence in my car. It's a nice car and quite comfortable. And it's all mine. As long as I keep the payments up to date, lol.

Hugs you all and goes back to filling out apartment applications.  

Randy

This Is Your Brain On Crack

There is an epidemic being exposed through out the United States that has nothing to do with drugs or disease and all to do with a lack of courtesy in pulling down your shirt or pulling up your pants.

Be it called 'Plumbers Syndrome' or 'Crackitis' this sight is being played out over and over again all across the fruited plains. It's a cringe worthy site that turns stomachs and ruins fast food lunches every where.

This is a phenomenon that effects both skinny and over weight people, the young and old, men and women, dogs and cats, horses and cows. The list of the afflicted goes on and on.

It starts at a very young age. Children are exposed to this by unsuspecting parents that have been lulled into a false sense of safety by a lack of quality information.

To that end I am establishing 'The Foundation For The Prevention And Elimination Of Crackitis'. For now the foundation will be headquartered in my house. All donations can be sent to me via this blog.

The plan is to hold seminars for parents of young children and prospective parents to educate them on the early signs of this syndrome.

Early signs include crackitis caused by ill fitting diapers, a desire for children to want to play plumber in ill fitting blue jeans and a desire to wear thong panties(especially for girls but not exclusive to them) with low cut jeans.

I suggest that parents keep their children away from groups that perpetuate this behavior. Such as 'plumbers and electricians unions'.

Remember; a butt crack covered in infancy prevents a lifetime of suffering from crackitis.

UMMM!! No It's Not!!

 

 

God gave us a butt crack to use as a 'poop aiming device' not as something to be displayed like a fine work of art.

 

Believe me my ass is no work of art, lol.

 

Randy

War Demands That Cats Go BOOOOOOOM!!!

A recently discovered manual on artillery and siege warfare, from the 16th century, depicts the use of cats and doves with bombs or rockets attached to them. They were to be used to set fire to castles and cities that were difficult to conquer.

 

I would not classify these as the first suicide bombers as I do not believe that the cats or the doves were volunteering for this duty.

 

I am curious as to how the cats were introduced into the castle or city. Bombs on their backs would not exactly make them Trojan Horses. The other thing that strikes me as unusual is the size of the cat and dove pictured here. They must have been a lot bigger in the 16th century.



The theory is that you strap a bomb to the cats back, light the fuse and set the cat free in hopes it would run home. I have to agree with the scholars studying this manual; that the cats would probably not run home but in a panic would set fire to the attackers own camp.

 

Cat lovers need to know that there is no evidence this method was ever employed. My cat is sitting looking over my shoulder reading this. He looks relieved, lol.

 

In 1906 the Black Cat Fireworks Company was founded.

 

Maybe this is where they got their idea for their company name.

Randy

The Youngest Bootlegger



Wine was an essential part of my Italian American upbringing. My grandfather grew his own grapes and pressed his own wine for many years which included the period of 'Prohibition' in the 1920's and early 1930's. I even helped with the pressing in the 1950's when I was young.

My grandfather would produce his wine in the basement of his Brooklyn home and then send it out to a coffee shop owned by a relative. The wine was served in coffee cups.

This allowed him to have wine of his own and make a few dollars extra during 'The Depression'. It was a win/win proposition until they got caught.

The wine bottles were loaded into the bottom of my fathers baby stroller, covered with a soft mat and dad was laid on top. In this way my grandmother would make the deliveries to the coffee shop.

One day a police officer stopped my grandmother to admire the baby and she was caught, arrested and jailed. My father was put into the cell with her while they waited for my grandfather to arrive to get them out.

I remember steam coming from my grandmothers ears anytime this adventure was mentioned. My grandfather with a smile would say, "she never looked more beautiful holding the baby behind bars".

That is how my dad became the 'youngest bootlegger'. A name that stuck with him all his life.

Randy

House~Needs Work~Infested With Zombies

According to some people my housing search may soon be over. The 'Zombie Appocolypse' will free up a lot of houses and they will be rent free for those willing to clear them of zombies. I have been preparing for this for many years and it could not come at a better time as I am currently looking for a new home.

My plan is to find a small house for me and a few select friends and fortify it. Since I can not live without electricity so I thought something like this.

 

As the zombies surround the house they will step on these treadmills and begin turning them. I can use the energy they create for hot water, lights and cooking. It's freaking genius and it is rent and bill free.

I have already started shifting my available funds to converting my car into an effective weapon for grocery trips and sightseeing.

For entertainment we can sit on the roof and pick off zombies with rifles like we were playing a video game.

 

I have begun listening to a lot of music by these guys to prepare myself for the Post Zombie Apocalypse Music Reformation.

All I need now is a few good friends to share this little paradise. They have to be people that are willing to work, love board games so we can entertain ourselves and be OK with lots of blood in the yard.

I would prefer roommates with IQ's below 130. At that level they will have the ability to survive but will brains that will not be so attractive to zombies.

Life is finally starting to make sense. These past few years have prepared me for this life.

Roommate applications can be obtained by leaving a message at this blog or by sending me an instant message in Second Life. Wait!!  It may be better if you send a note card as I am sure there will be a rush of interested people and my IM's will be capped.

Randy

The Long Middle Finger~Creation Or Evolution~I Am Waving It

I have wondered why the middle finger is longer than the others. Creationists would say that 'it's Gods plan'. While evolutionists might say that the hand started out as a web which is longer in the middle there by causing the web to evolve into a hand with a longer finger.

"Giving someone "the finger" is one of the basest violations in modern culture, but its origins date back over 2500 years. The first written record of the insult occurred in ancient Greece, where the playwright Aristophanes (the Adam Sandler of his day) made a crude joke mixing up the middle finger and the penis. Even back then, the bird was considered an aggressive, phallic put-down", ooze.com.

Flashing the middle finger has travelled from culture to culture for centuries.

Personally I think this graphic sums my feelings up nicely. An efficient way to express how I feel about a plethora of subjects I am facing at the moment.

I was just told, by a very intelligent woman, to get all this doom and gloom out of my system. So here it comes like a cat leaving a vomit trail across your favorite white carpet.

Ones life should be judged by loading good deeds and bad deeds on a scale looking for that scale to balance. By analyzing the choices you have made, both good and bad, and seeing how you might have done better.

In truth the weighing of good deeds against bad is like weighing feathers against rocks with good being the feathers. A person has to possess many more feathers than rocks to achieve a balanced scale.

It seems that the mistakes of my youth will never balance with the good life I have tried to lead in later years. I do not ask for much out of life. Some kind of roof over my head, simple food and a sense of just being alright. I am on the verge of not even achieving those simple goals.

I am told that I need to have faith in God and the He will provide. There are few that have a stronger faith in God than I do. I may not worship the popular way but God requires belief and devotion toward Himself not in buildings and not through the voice of some proxy.

My daily meditations and conversations with God have kept my faith strong even though it has been shaken by circumstance.

I am told that a person can not wait for something good to happen but rather go out and cause something good to happen. I have tried for many years to do all the things that I believed are required of a person in our society. At every turn I have been slapped back into mediocrity to the point that I can barely stand on my own two feet.

I am a simple man with simple needs. My last few years have been lived monk like and finding out that I need few luxuries.

There are some who will read this that will conclude that I am feeling sorry for myself. And maybe I am but in my way of thinking I am the only one that has the right to feel sorry for me. I am independent and even at times of apathy my feelings are mine and Gods to deal with.

"If you remove the yoke from your midst, the pointing of the finger, and speaking wickedness, and if you give yourself to the hungry, and satisfy the desire of the afflicted, then your light will rise in darkness, and your gloom will become like midday", Isiah 58:9-10. An indication that a finger pointed with scorn is an act of which God disapproves.  

I guess I will follow Isiah's assessment and put my middle finger away and plod on as always.

Peeks around the corner looking for the good or at least to avoid the next train that is trying to run me down.

Randy

What If "The Hokey Pokey" Is Reallly What It's All About?

Second Life does exactly what it is supposed to do for me. That is to leave all my real life crap at log in and just enjoy a simple time listening to music and dancing my way happily along. The 'hokey pokey' always made me laugh and happy and Second Life is my version of the hokey pokey.

At some point the computer turns off and the realities of life turn back on. I could use a little hokey pokey energy in real life.

The last few years have been a little tough. A combination of my illness and a string of temporary housing has left me with a feeling of detachment to life. I am moving again. My 5th move in 7 years. My car should have 'gypsy' painted on its doors.

But this time is different. I have finally decided to move away from the area where I have spent the past 28 years. It is time to move on. My kids are all living away from this area. They were my only reason to stay here. It is funny though; I seem to be suffering from 'empty nest syndrome' without an actual nest of my own.

There are bright spots. My Second Life partner and real life friend keeps me grounded and makes sure my hokey pokey does not turn into a heavy metal binge.

So a new chapter in my life begins. I am slipping on my real life dance shoes and doing the hokey pokey north on Interstate 95 closer to friends and family. I will miss North Carolina but not the solitary life I have developed for myself.

I am very good at dancing the hokey pokey. Thank God I am not an expert in the 'chicken dance', lol.

Randy

The Red One~No The Blue One~OMG Pick A Freaking Dress Already

"I met this wonderful girl at Macy's. She was buying clothes and I was putting Slinky's on the escalator", Steven Wright.

That pretty much sums up men's interest in women's clothes. I have to admit that I do love a well dressed woman but what I dislike is the wait I endure while they dress.

I am sure this scene is normal in any relationship. Men are given a time to be ready to go out. One hour before the leaving deadline men shower, shave, dress and and are ready to head out the door. The woman, who of course is already beautiful and wonderful(trying to save my ass here, lol), has changed her clothes 12 times and is standing in her bra and panties complaining that she has nothing to wear. All this 5 minutes to walking out the door time.

Men are told, and we believe, that women are dressing to look good for us. Here is the dirty little secret; women are dressing to look better than the other women who will be attending the same event.

"Girls do not dress for boys. They dress for themselves and, of course, each other. If girls dressed for boys they’d just walk around naked at all times", Betsey Johnson.

Now there is the truth from the mouth of an intelligent woman. That statement also explains why men put up with this clothes changing dance. It's the process that holds out attention; naked-clothes on-naked-clothes on-naked clothes on and so on and so on and so on.

The draw back here is that 20 minutes after the time we are supposed to leave we walk out the door. We are also expected to get to the event at the time originally quoted. This leads to speeding and unnecessary tickets.

It's very embarrassing walking into Easter Sunday services late after receiving a ticket and at the same time being blamed for our tardiness.

By the way, non of this applies to my Second Life partner(looks behind me to see if my ass has been saved).

If it has not been saved than I know I am sleeping on the couch tonight. But did you know that men don not really mind that? It's like camping, lol.

Randy