Oh yeah, talk to me baby!!!

 

    I must say that I totally admire my wife. She was up early this morning baking her famous banana cake with butter icing. She started slow cooking a large roast and then cleaned and set aside all the veggies for cooking later. She made a pitcher of ice tea for the adults and one of lemon aide for the grand yunguns. All on schedule, she then went about cleaning the house with emphasis on the bathrooms. By noon she was finished and was just about done setting the dinning room table.

    Our kids, along with their kids, starting rolling in about that time. The grand kids formed lines in front of me and Grandma so they could tell us about something they had accomplished that week or maybe showing off a new toy or hair clasp. The house was wafting with wonderful aromas of a cooking roast, homemade dinner rolls and finished off with just a hint of banana. The women all mustered in the kitchen and started the prep work. Sharon was mashing five pounds of cooked potatoes and then whipped them until they peaked velvet smooth. Meg and Linda were removing the cooked vegetables from the stove top and filling serving bowls.

    The grand kids, seven of them, stood at the perimeter of the kitchen watching. They knew this was a KID FREE zone and were well aware of the consequences. As the kids watched, two of the Dads joined them as they also were aware of the MALE FREE restrictions also. They all stood and watched, much like a hungry pride of young dingoes. As the bowls and platters were shuttled to the dinning table, all the women made room for Grandma to make her famous ’pot roast gravy’. This one entree, some have said, served with but a crust of bread, could keep a soul alive for weeks. Grandma’s gravy……words spoken in reverence.

    Soon, all were seated and little seven year old Cindy gave the blessing as she had rehearsed it all morning at home….. “bless all foods and make us all good and always. Amen God.” Grandma began to tear up. Quickly, serving spoons and forks were like fencing sabers over the steaming platters of food. Once everyone’s plate was packed, the ‘chalice’ of Grandma’s gravy was carefully passed around. The gluttony began and soon afterwards followed by banana cake. Later, all the fella’s sat around, shouted and critiqued the first pre season game of football on TV. The kids were outside taking turns crying and the mom’s were doing KP in the kitchen. After the game, Grandma cut up the rest of the cake and filled ‘take home’ baggies for all. Hugs were made and tired children were shouldered up. Soon our big house was quiet. Grandma was tired…..very tired, but happy.

    The sun was going down so I lit a single candle in our darkening den and put on an old ZZ Top CD. I went out into the garage and returned with an old coffee can. From the can I rolled a nice ‘hog’ joint for the two of us. A few minutes later, as she exhaled the blue gray smoke, she said life was really good. I agreed. We had three grown children,….two were conceived at different rock concerts and the third in the lavatory of Delta flight 352, out of Atlanta in 1975. They had all grown up with good judgment and values. Well educated with professional careers now, they had often encouraged us to allow them the expense of sending us to a fancy resort so that we could finally have fun and adventure in our lives. Poor sheltered us.

    I took a solid toke on the herb and as I deep stoked it, I handed it over to my lady and she did the same. Soon the ‘buzz cloud’ floated overhead and she laid her head on my shoulder. “The gravy needed more salt,” I whispered. “I thought it sucked,” she replied.

 

 

 

　

 

 

 

                             LAST DANCE

    I was a hormone scorching “Chippendales” dancer some years ago. I loved it. I had performed at “Floppy’s” for over six years. Then one sad night, during New Year’s, I fell off a table and landed in the lap of a cafeteria cook from one of the local elementary schools. She loved it, but I blew out my knee. I had an acl rupture and partial tear to the pcl. My dance career vanished like a fart in a cyclone. When I was stable enough to hobble back to the club again, they had already removed my posters and my signature bar drink, “The Penetrator”, was no longer on the bev board. This was only the beginning of my depression.

    Mrs. Marcher, the club manager, kept me on at the club four nights a week cleaning up after closing and doubling up as bouncer on weekends. I couldn’t say no, as no one in town would hire a broken down grinder. Still, it was honest work, just minus the one dollar bills. After closing I would haul the trash out the side door into the alley and as always there were appreciative patrons using the boy toys like bassoons. My days of physical revelation was over. The only thing I put out now was trash. Now, after work, I just go home with a cheap 12-pk, put on my old leather thong and watch old videos of my days in the spotlight….and weep.

    One day, while driving by a construction site, I noticed one of the laborers that was digging a trench. He started jumping and gyrating! Seems he had stepped onto a mound of fire ants. He was all over the place and I had to admit, he had some good moves during this traumatic event. What was really interesting was that he was well into his thirties and weighed over 200 pounds! I had an epiphany! Why not form my own group of male dancers that are built into the comfort zone of life and open a club! 

    Well, four months passed and tonight I opened “Sweet Bubba’s”. The guys were all well bellied and sensually mature. I advertised that the first round was on “Sweet Bubba’s” for all the ladies. In my ad, I also informed the public that they would see things they had never seen before!

    The doors opened for the first time at 8 pm tonight. Within twenty minutes the entire club was filled to capacity and beyond the safety codes. I had worked long and hard with my untried dancers and tonight was their night. They were all well oiled and dressed in reinforced thongs. I also had the forethought to give each a Viagra and placed comfortable chairs out in the alley for their patron breaks. At 8:45, the first on my review strutted his way onto the runway stage. He was “Beer Gut Sammy”. 5 ft 8 in….235 pounds of grinding man love. From my office I heard everything.

    When Sammy went into his dance routine, the entire club went silent. As each new dancer waddled out to join the others on stage, the club appeared to get even quieter. Then I heard screams of, “Oh my God!!!”  Glass was being shattered, there was laughter, abundant swearing and my dancers crying for help. The crowd was not happy. It lasted for over 20 minutes until the police cars and ambulances showed up.

    I have recounted the evening’s events on my Xanga blog site so all would know my side of the story. I was told that I may be liable for the injuries to my dancers, the heart attack of an older patron and a drag queen who sustained two broken legs. My club has been destroyed. My life has been elevated into the stratosphere of ‘suckness’. I am now going out into the dark alley and sit down. Then I am going to put the barrel of a 38 into my mouth and pretend it’s a bassoon……….BANG!!!

 

 

 

 

　

 

 

    

 

    My extended and questionable family has a mega reunion every few years. It’s reminiscent of the cycles that swarming locust follow minus the potato salad.  The current swarm was held last Saturday at a nice beach park not far from here so I was enticed by Wifey to get off my retired butt and take her to it.

    Wifey concocted a squash and pecan casserole and then put the recipe on her Facebook page incase anyone at the gathering needed the antidote later that night. When we showed up at the park, I carried the ten pound vat of steaming squash over to the sheltered pavilion where all the other trademark dishes of other families were being displayed.  There was fried chicken, BBQ, fried chicken, chunks of ham, fried chicken, ribs, fried chicken and a tray of dark colored meat that deflected most stares. There were veggies of all kinds, (potato salad making up half of the entries) and in the middle of it all was the large steel bowl of Wifey’s squash creation with a scooping spoon the size of a grave digger’s shovel. Bon appetit cousins.

    As an honest disclaimer, I do have many fond memories of past reunions. I remember as a kid jumping out of the car at a run to go meet up with cousins I had not seen in ages, (months) and then spend the rest of the day running with the herd. If there was a lake near by….well then, we were all in nirvana!  We made a lot of noise, got in everyone’s way and just loved poking fun at all the old fogies’ sitting under the shade trees swapping war stories and complaining about arthritis and politics.

    As a teen, I used to look forward to seeing all my female cousins and appraising their breast growth and then talking sports with the guys.  The impact of seeing a gorgeous blond cousin that used to pick boogers with you, now walking by in a bikini that challenged every law of nature, played massive turbulence with my brain.

    When I became a family man, the reunions were more for our kids and the fried chicken.  It was now that I was able to study and analyze the cousins I’d known, off and on, for over 30 years and the conclusion I reached, was that our family tree most definitely had a case of root rot.  My God, what happens to people? There were dopers’, burnouts, sluts, preachers and insurance salesmen.  Most of my female cousins were now in their mid thirties and currently members in good standing in the “Cheese Cake of the Month Club.” The men just gathered in small groups and consoled each other on their current divorces.  The current generation of old fogies continued to gum their debates under the shade trees.

    Anyway….there were not as many clan members at Saturday’s event. I’m sure it was due to the expense of getting here and staying a day or two that was out of budget range for many. Most of those there seemed to be foreign to me anyway, in more ways than one.  All the alpha women were in charge while the kids mostly sat around in a Ritalin daze and the teens stared down with bloodshot eyes as they text messaged for someone to come rescue them.  It was all different now.  So, I just sat back under a shade tree and debated politics with my retired cousins.

                                                                                                                              Charlie

WHY WOMEN CAN’T SLEEP!

 

 

Every one of those little blue balls is a thought about something that needs to be done; clothes, appearance, issues with the male in her life and decisions or problems that need to be resolved concerning him.

A man has only 2 balls and they consume all his thoughts, and he sleeps like a baby!  I’m still confused.  

 

 

 

 

     Another Word For Love

   

    Our greatest assets in life are our friends and family. They make us what we are and motivate us to what we are capable of being. That being said, they can also be the biggest pains in the ass! They are our most vicious critics, and nonstop, unrelenting advisors. They are also the worst audience to listen to our jokes and stories.

    But, what is a friend? For sure it’s a bond because in ancestral times, friends hunted and fought off enemies together. They protected each other and freely gave up their lives in that commitment. Today, they just hunt single bars together, but still fight over what they find. But, of course, it’s more than that. Friends freely show their most vulnerable flaws to each other and often confess embarrassing and sometimes the most shameful secrets to each other. They will equally share counsel through the years and help to chug a twelve pack or two during the process. We will always value their understanding and opinions as just and sincere, sober or not.

    Friends will also ride every wave of heartbreak and anguish in your life as well as the joyful and jubilant moments that often bless your life. They will be standing at your side when you marry, as well as being there for the delivery of their godchild. Sadly, one day, they will also be at your side during times of mourning and grief.

    Friends don’t always agree with each other and even tend to debate and argue at the drop of a hat, but….they don’t abandon or forsake each other over a mix of angry words. Friends will hold your trust close to their hearts and will forever watch over your best interest. As a rule, friends will never get in your way….until the day you start to fall, then they are all over you.

 

 

 

   

 

    I can think, but in one language, yet I can laugh in dozens. I can only complain in one language, but cry in many more. Love is also communicated without translation as is hate. Love can build bridges between people, but hate has the power to bring down those constructs in but a moment. It can be said in any language, that love may be the mortar than bonds man, but hate is the destructive sledge. 

   This is the 21st Century….of “modern man.”  Right now, there are more wars, famine, political corruption, greed and hate in this world than there has ever been since the middle ages! In our country we desire, plead, pray, hope and vote for peace and yet a majority of households have at lease two guns. We trust no one. Strangers, neighbors, politicians, corporations, employers and the “unknown caller” listed on our phone.  It is fear.

    We are constantly shamed by an abundance of self-serving organizations that hold us responsible for an ailing Africa, global warming, racism, plastic water bottles, immigration evils, fatty foods and child abuse spankings. We have been blamed and are currently being held accountable for every social injustice going back over 200 years and this truly confuses us in an abundance of different languages.

    A great quote from Dickens, “They were the best of times….they were the worst of times.”  Seems that civilization has carried that mantra since we first stumbled out of caves. We use the Bible, Torah, Koran and GPS to guide us and yet we stay lost among and within ourselves. Many hate our government, but truly love our country which is a love/hate dilemma that has no resolve. We share these emotions with most of the world’s population, and yet, refuse to resolve them among ourselves because we trust no one!

    One last expression of truth, that is translated in all languages….fear. The day we make courage more important than fear….will be the day we all speak the same language.

                                                                                                            Charlie

  

       

 

A Loving Mood 

 

                                

 

  I get into a special mood once in a while concerning Wifey. I have been enriched my entire married life with this wonderful woman and these moods I get into are filled with the love and adoration I have for her. Gifted with charm, grace and wonderment, Wifey has been a treasure to me and not any single word can describe her……which necessitates this list.

 

She has been;

Loving

Adoring

Sensual

Caring

Giving

Affectionate

Rewarding

Consoling

Understanding

Trusting

Forgiving

Provocative

Inquisitive

Suspicious

Meddling

Judgmental

Condescending

Accusatory

Overbearing

Self-righteous

Obnoxious

                                                                        Bitchy……sorry, I’m not in the mood anymore.

 

 

 

 

                                                    

      In my lifetime I have interacted with at least 70,000 people. This equates to my age. True, I have met some unique and wonderful men and women. A few hundred crooks, matched in equal numbers with bums. I have known the near genius as well as the challenged. Good people and bad. 65,000 of the people I have met, alas, were idiots!

    Like warts, I have been plagued by these half wits much like the heroes in zombie movies. ‘We have enough gun control……what we need is idiot control!’ They are everywhere! I meet them around every corner, every government office and behind most checkout counters. They answer the phone when I call for help with my TV cable, or when I call about a credit card problem and that’s when I get an idiot with an accent.

    I have learned a few undeniable truths in dealing with Homo Idiotium. ‘Do not argue with them!’ An idiot will drag you down to their level and beat you with their experience. Idiots deal with an entirely different set of precepts. First, they come at you cleverly disguised as a normal person and often catch you off guard. As light travels faster than sound, some people appear bright until you hear them speak. Once they commence to butcher civilized rhetoric, they will then refuse the first law of common sense that says ‘keep your mouth shut and just let people assume you’re an idiot, than to open it and remove all doubt’. Here is where they expose their cerebral atrophy for the world to see.

    Common sense is extremely limited to these addicts of reality shows and UFO conventions. They often “own” several DVDs of Jerry Springer and make donations to the ‘Save Bigfoot’ foundation each year. Wisdom is the second law of common sense and goes hand and hand with knowledge. For many of them this is a weakness. Knowledge is knowing that a tomato is a fruit, while wisdom is knowing not to put the damn thing in Jell-O! These are the same people that will believe you when you tell them there are four billion stars in our galaxy, but they will always check when you say the paint is wet!’ The disconnect is scary. God only knows what they do on computers when it’s a known fact that artificial intelligence is no match for natural stupidity.

    All the same….there is one redeeming factor to dealing with the twilight zone endorsed. They are all gloom and doom in their philosophy of life. They are all pessimist. All of them! Therefore….always borrow money from a pessimistic idiot, they won’t expect it back!

 

 

      SOME THINGS NEVER CHANGE

 

    As you get older, life affords you a multitude of quiet moments for reflecting, contemplating, analyzing and taking naps.  During the 65 solar orbits of my existence, I have mentally regurgitated a number of truisms and absolutes. I wish to share, the crust of them for you now;

1. I think part of a best friend’s job should be, to immediately clear your computer history if you die.

2. Nothing sucks more than that moment during an argument when you realize you’re wrong.

3. I totally regret all those times I didn’t want to nap when I was younger.

4. There is great need for a sarcasm font.

5. How the hell are you supposed to fold a fitted sheet?

6. Was learning cursive really necessary?

7. Map Quest really needs to start their directions on #5. I’m pretty sure I know how to get out of my neighborhood.

8. Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died and what he was doing at the time .

9. Even under ideal conditions people have trouble locating their car keys in a pocket, finding their cell phone, and Pinning the Tail on the Donkey – but I’d bet my butt cheeks everyone can find and push the snooze button from 3 feet away, in about 1.7 seconds,

10. Bad decisions make damn good stories.

11. You never know when it will strike, but there comes a certain moment at work, when you know that you just aren’t going to do anything productive for the rest of the day.

12. Can we all just agree to ignore whatever comes after Blue Ray? I don’t want to restart my friggin collection.….again!

13. I’m always slightly terrified when I exit out of Word and it asks me if I want to save any changes to my ten-page blog that I swear I did not make any changes to start with.

14. “Do not machine wash or tumble dry” means I will have to go down and wash my clothes in the creek??

15. I hate it when I just miss a call by the last ring, but worst when I immediately call back, it rings nine times and goes to voice mail. What the hell did they do after I didn’t answer? Drop the phone and run away?

16. I hate leaving my house confident and looking good and then not seeing anyone of importance the entire day. What a waste.

17. I keep some people’s phone numbers in my phone just so I know not to answer when they call.

18. I think the fridge should record the number of times it’s opened each day and show it on a big electronic display.

19. I disagree with Kay Jewelers. I would bet on any given Friday or Saturday night more kisses begin with Miller Lite than with Kay.

20. I wish Map Quest had an “Avoid Ghetto” routing option.

21. Sometimes I’ll look down at my watch 3 consecutive times and still not remember what damn time it is.

22. I would rather try to carry 10 plastic grocery bags in each hand than take 2 trips to bring my groceries in.

23. Even under ideal conditions, people have trouble locating their car keys in a pocket, finding their cell phone, and Pinning the Tail on the Donkey – but I’d bet my butt cheeks everyone can find and push the snooze button from 3 feet away, in about 1.7 seconds, eyes closed, first time, every time!

24. I have a hard time deciphering the fine line between boredom and hunger.

25. How many times is it appropriate to say “What?” before you just nod and smile because you still didn’t hear or understand a word they said?

26. I love the sense of camaraderie when an entire line of cars team up to prevent an jerk from cutting in at the front. Stay strong, brothers and sisters!

27. Shirts get dirty. Underwear gets dirty. Pants? Pants never get dirty, and you can wear them forever.

28. Is it just me or do high school kids get dumber & dumber every year?

29. There’s no worse feeling that you’re going to die, than during that millisecond after leaning your chair back a little too far.

 A GARDEN OF SMILES

 

 

         

 Some day I will have a silver stud through my nose and a tattoo that says “Blood Sucker”  

 

 

                             

  Womb Withdrawal

 

 

                                                                   

                                                   Let me go…..I can take him!!!

 

 

                                               

  Me and the boys will have milk……make sure the breast are room temperature.

 

 

                                      

 Krykie!………are you going to check my oil or take my temperature??

 

 

            

                 Poopie Monster?

 

 

                                  

               Yo…Yo….Jack and his ho Jill….runs up the hill….cause the bitches were drinkin their water

 

 

                                   

                          There it is again…..that smell!!!!!!

 

 

                                        

                          I’m riding a 650cc inline 4 with a fully loaded Pamper

 

 

                         

          Let me get this straight….you give me ta ta milk, keep me clean and Daddy just makes dumb ass faces?

 

          

                                         

                       Well…..from what I’ve seen so far, I hope I got a round trip ticket back to Wombsville

 

 

                                         

                             First chance I get….I’m eating the damn cat!

 

 

                            

                    What is this, a book review?……You got to be high mom.

 

 

                                      

                          I saw it on the food channel…Man Versus Food

 

 

                                           

                               Dad…..this is really creeping me out!

 

  

                          

             Words can’t describe this……………………GRAND DAD CHARLIE