Ten Things Which I Dislike

I was unable to do this in the Facebook App as it has taken quite a bit of time to think of ten things and you know I can't just list ten items without extrapolating on any of them, so here ya go. As for Cherish and Vanessa, who are pictured below with yours truly, well I have nothing but the most of like for both of them!

1. Punk Music
I just don't get it. Oh sure, I'll admit they have more musical talent than I do, but so does that step stool over there, so I'm not sure if that counts for anything. And no need to bother me with all those punk bands who are really good and you're sure I'll like them if I just check out. I'm 46 years old. They're not good or I would have figured that out by now. Also, I am currently listening to the Smoking Popes. They utilize guitar solos and interesting music. They're not punk.

2. Bright Sunshine Ricocheting Off White Snow Directly Into My Eyes
I'm not interested in being blinded every time I look around during sunny winter days. That doesn't mean I'd prefer cloudy winter days, I don't, but it does mean I like being able to see without sharp pain coursing through my forehead. And yes, I know sunglasses help, but whatever, these are things I don't like, so save it for the comments.

3. Just About Anything Which Instantly Blows Up Social Media
I'm talking to you Tiger King fans.

4. Stopping To Think About What I'm Currently Writing.
Talk about the worst kind of interruption when trying to write a decent sentence or two. I never liked proofreading so the idea of having to go back and proof everything is anathema to anything and everything I believe in when it comes to writing. I guess that's something I could change if I chose to do so.

5. Listening To Someone Drone On And On About Not Believing Me For This Or That
This one really does get under my skin. I say a lot of stupid shit so I understand these sort of things, but it still annoys me to no end. Jennifer has a cabinet in her dining room with the usual things people might display in a dining room cabinet. For years now, she has accused me rather vehemently that from time to time I go upstairs and I rearrange these items. I don't know where she got this from and I certainly don't know why she thinks I might stoop to such a low humor denominator, but she does. This is something that I never did. At least not for the first few years she accused me of it. Now that's just one example and this one no longer bothers me as much because I'm so used to it I chuckle at its ridiculousness. I wish I could say the same for all the other instances.

6. Needing To Listen To Music But Having To Keep The Volume Down
There are times when I understand this must be the case, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. I spent more than a few moments of my youth and most probably my adult life being fascinated by the idea of the whole city of Chicago having to listen to whatever it was I wanted to play for them. A loudspeaker for all the city to hear whenever they were out and about in public. It'd be great as I wouldn't always need to bother with headphones nearly as often. And let's be honest with each other, within a few weeks, I would be deified as some sort of musical God. On the very rare chance I needed to placate a citizen, I would randomly ask strangers if they would be interested in playing a song for everyone else to hear. And sure, most of the time I'd end up rolling my eyes, letting out a brief chuckle and going about my day, but on even rarer circumstances they might do well and I would play their song for them. What a lucky day that would be!

7. Having To Track Down Something I've Lost
I know this is something most people probably dislike, but it's just so damn annoying. I bet there are aholes out there who can't find their keys and then turn it into some fun hunting exercise. Utilizing their Mensa powers to backtrack to where they may have been when they were lost. Giving themselves a reward when said keys are located. Skipping out to the driveway and hopping into their sensible vehicle and driving off to the rest of their day.

8. Hard Cover Books. Fiction Or Non-Fiction.
I don't care how much I would like to read the book, I won't be reading it until there is a paperback version. I just don't care for how much effort is needed to handle books with hardcovers. I don't want a workout, I just want to read something. And I sure as hell don't need to be dealing with this stupid dust jacket. What the hell does a book need a jacket for? Is it too cold in here? Jacket or no jacket, the book will eventually be coated in dust.

9. Donald J. Trump
This one is obvious I know, but...it's second to last on this list for a reason. This person is so morally reprehensible that he has severely impacted my opinion of those who support him. I know you're all good people. I only know good people for the most part, and since you're a friend, than you're good. Prone to being conned by a two-bit moron, absolutely! But good nonetheless!

10. Wondering If That Spaghetti Dinner I just Shared With My Three Brothers Might Be One Of The Last Dinners We Share
I came up with number nine on this list long before I had most of the other numbers figured out. I knew well enough to just put the number ten before it, but then I went upstairs and ate dinner with my brothers. We social distanced to probably not enough extent, but we chatted for a good long while about whatever it is we felt like chatting about. It was nice. It's always been nice to do this, but when you're unsure whether or not you'll be here or they'll be here a month from now, it's quite a bit nicer. The same sentiment applies to my sisters and cousins and aunts and uncles and friends and coworkers and the guy selling Streetwise down the block and neighbors you've known for 43 years and the neighbors you don't really know but you see them often enough to stop and say a word or two and Slav and Han who work at the Walgreens at the end of the block and the nice folks at the post office on Lawrence and all the random folks I used to see on my commute to and from work and the friends that I don't see any longer who were once a much more important presence in my life (and hopefully theirs as well) and the fine folks at the Salvation Army on Union street and that person that probably just walked by my house and the workers across the alley at the tire shop and the people who work at the Subway on Lawrence who are awfully slow but who make my sandwiches exactly how I want them and whoever those folks were who were in that model airplane club that Dan and I used to go to back when I was in grade school and Judas Priest's Ian Hill who I met in the parking garage with Dan after a show and ex-girlfriends I suppose and Bowser and Flame and Pookie and that conversation with Dan and Mark and Hillary and Michael which we just shared when I went downstairs to get my laundry from the dryer.

This is something I dislike very much. I'll gladly deal with the first nine for the rest of my life if I don't have to worry about number ten.

And speaking of ten, I love you all 10!

Some of you may understand that sentence.

Maybe Just What the World Needs Right Now!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NQluT6QqMIc&t=23s

Enforced Fortunes

Hey...what's going on? 

Listening to Nostradamus, you? 

Wishing I was listening to Nostradamus. 

You and everyone else, my friend. You and everyone else. 

What better reason to write one of these old, familiar fortune cookie blogs, right?

Nostradamus was all about the fortunes.

Let's see, what do we have here...

Accident is the Mother of Invention

Okay...gonna start with that one, huh? Thanks.

Did you know the opposite of this phrase is "Invention of Mother the is Accident"? Remove one word and the result is what I would question, if I had a very thick Italian accent, Mike Pence about. "Invention of Mother is Accident"? Following immediately with "No?" I suppose after I got that one out of the way, I'd probably have thought of a few dozen other messages I'd enjoy relaying to Mike Pence, but that's neither here nor there. You know I prefer to stay out of these little political spats which do nothing to bridge divides. I prefer to ramp divides. Fuck those damned bridges. They know not what is good for them.


Be Careful or You Could Fall for Some Tricks Today

Does that mean I'm getting laid???? What's the problem here? Other than it's forty minutes past midnight and I've still got over 23 hours left in the day. Am I supposed to somehow just fall asleep knowing full well that at some point I'ze gonna get laid today?

I'll tell you what's not tricky. This Judas Priest album, Nostradamus.

"Open my heart, as a new day has dawned.
I see your light on the wings of a dove
Lifting me up, as the dark clouds retreat
My courage transcends and you make me complete
Open my heart, with the advent of spring
I am reborn, with the love that you bring"

What's also not tricky, is this dope new single I'm dropping, "Forty Minutes Past Midnight"! B side will be "Well, Guess This Isn't Happening".


An Eye for an Eye Makes the Whole World Blind

Or, just for fun, we won't go blind. How's that sound instead? Perhaps we can all see just as well as we are seeing right now, and then, maybe one day, we'll get Basix Lasix and realize that all this time we could have been something other than a dipshit. How awesome would that be? Just use the most common, basic tenets of being a decent human and we'd all be pretty good I think. Too many folks chose the Racix Lasix course instead. That's too bad. Some would say shame. I'm going to say Shame Bad.

Why do I say Shame Bad?

I was hoping you'd ask! Please tune into Public Access Channel 57 this Friday night at 9:30 PM for the debut of my new show, "Shame Bad! Bowsa Yowza!". It will be me doing all of Sinbad's best comedy standup routines! I guarantee this will be just as hilarious as Sinbad doing his own Sinbad routines! Seriously, I guarantee that. I do.

I lied.

Tune in anyway!


Life is a Play. It's Not it's Length, but it's Performance that Counts

I bet my play would be way more popular than all of your plays. Porn content is always more popular than whatever family friendly play you'd be performing. That's not where the benefits stop, either. Mine would also most likely resemble some sort of Jazzercise class. Not exactly sure if I even know what a Jazzercise class resembles, but my play would definitely require a rather intense aerobic exercise element. So right there. Porn and exercise. You can't beat that...unless, and god damnit!...you can't...uhhhhhhhh...your porn/play is better than mine, isn't it? I fucking knew I should've hired Mother to play lead. 


Je suis au bout de ma vie
Ma tâche est finie
Je passe de ce monde à un autre
Mes prémonitions survivront
Prenez garde à mes paroles
Par ce qu'elles adviendront
Le patrimoine que j'ai laissé
L'avenir de l'humanité


MrrojaMrMnItseRecaeP

Geez Louise, These Mom Eulogies...

Some folks asked me to share this as they weren't there to hear it for the first and the only time, so here you have it...

I’ve struggled quite a bit trying to figure out what to say right now…trying to figure out what words could possibly sum up the enormity of Mom’s impact on everyone here and I finally realized that it’s basically an impossible task. I won’t be able to convey what she meant to all of us with words, but that’s all I have. I didn’t bother studying sign language like Mom did, so this is all you get. 

When my Dad died, I felt as if I should get up and talk at his funeral, but I didn’t. 

I was just a kid.

I was scared. 

I didn’t think I could stand up there in front of everyone and actually say anything that mattered enough to deserve being up there in the first place, and I sure didn’t think I’d be able to read whatever I may have prepared with a constant stream of tears running down my face. I was probably right about that, but I still feel I should have said something. I didn’t. 

  

Dad’s exit was brief, unexpected and shattering. I remember being in the kitchen at Mom’s and Jennifer telling me that Dad was in a coma and in that moment I thought to myself that he wouldn’t be coming out of it. I don’t know when he first felt it, but his whole life was spent battling an illness that never relented, never left, never allowed for a simple bit of happiness and piece of mind. His death may have seemed quick to us, but with each day being nothing more than a struggle to reach the next, I’m sure it felt like an eternity for Dad.

Mom called me at work on October 5th, 2016 and left a message asking me to call her back as soon as I could. That wasn’t the normal Mom message and when I went outside and called her back, she let me know her doctors had found something in her lung that wasn’t quite right.

I’ve had 15 months to prepare for this, but I didn’t do a very good job with those preparations. I was lulled into a false sense of everything is going to be okay when she received her cancer free diagnosis a few months later. I just assumed she was going to be the exception to the rule. I believed she had beaten it. If anyone deserved to be here as long as possible, it was Mom. I wasn’t naive enough to think it wouldn’t still be a battle, but I just assumed it would be a battle that she would always have the upper hand in. 

I was naive, I was ignorant, and I was very wrong. 

For whatever reason, cancer always seems to get the upper hand. 

It’s times like these where I wish I had my Mom’s faith. 

Hers wasn’t a pretend faith.

Hers wasn’t a blind faith.

Hers wasn’t this one is the right faith. 

Hers was the best kind of faith.

The kind that is decent.

The kind that is caring. 

The kind that has no strings attached. 

It was a quiet and unassuming faith. 

Her faith was real. 

Mom took what she had been taught early on in life to a level that I don’t think most people ever reach. 

Oops…there I go again making assumptions and judging. 

Now you know why I don’t have her kind of faith. Don’t judge another until you’ve walked a mile in their shoes, right?

I’m pretty sure Mom must have been wearing shoes that were one size fits all as I don’t think she needed to try on other peoples shoes, let alone walk a mile in them. She already seemed to know how they fit. She just let you be you and that was the end of it. No questions asked. If you needed someone to talk to for whatever reason, she was always there ready to listen. 

I wish I had that kind of faith, but I don’t. Not like Mom. 

The last few days and nights my brothers and sisters and I took turns watching over her and taking care of her as she slipped farther and farther beyond our understanding. Her words, which were always so clear and concise, reverted back into sounds which made no sense to us. All we wanted was to understand her one more time so we could make sure she was comfortable and not in pain, but we couldn’t. We just had to guess at what she needed, much like what she had done for all of us all those years ago.

For her sake, I hope one of us managed to guess correctly. 

All I ever hear when someone dies is that God must have had other plans for that person. Plans which, conveniently, always seem to be more important than the plans they were supposed to be taking care of here on Earth. 

I’m just not convinced that’s always the case. It doesn’t make sense to me. 

I watched as the priest knelt down and absolved my Mom of all her sins. I spent the next few days trying to convince her to absolve me of all my sins against her, but I’m not sure how successful I was at that. I also told her that if God needs her more up there than he does down here, things must have really taken a turn for the worse up there in heaven. I didn’t think that sort of thing was possible, as it’s heaven and it’s supposed to be all good, right, but something must have gone haywire. Who knows…perhaps they just had a need for a more competent, skilled secretary capable of processing all the new applicants in a timely manner and assigning each of them their own cloud? I don’t have any idea. Let’s just go with that one though…It makes as much sense as anything else to me right now. 

Perhaps I don’t have that faith that Mom had during her life, but I had enough faith here at the end to give her one last bit of advice for her journey upwards. Mom loved her music, but always at a low volume. She didn’t always take too kindly to the turned up all the way music coming from the bedroom next to hers. I tried to tell Dan to quiet it down, but he just never listened…shocking, I know. I told her that she needed to stop off along the way and pick up a good pair of ear plugs as she was about to experience the loudest, most thunderous applause ever received at those pearly gates. 

Sail on Silver Girl

Sail on by

Your time has come to shine

All Your dreams are on their way

Thank you for being the very best a person can be Mom! I love you! 

Hi Ya! Sushi Fortune.

To be honest, I didn't realize that sushi restaurants handed out fortune cookies, but apparently this one does. My brother Dan has asked me countless times to accompany him to an all you can eat sushi restaurant over by Martyr's and most of the time, I've declined the invitation, but a few weeks ago, I didn't.

I should have.

That's no fault of the quality of the restaurant or the quality of the sushi. It was just that the restaurant wasn't going to be open all that long and I guess I'm just too old to sit and stuff appetizers and seaweed salad and nigiri and sushi down the gullet as fast as...perhaps that 400 pound dude Trump said might be infiltrating the DNC servers. Now I don't know if that hacker was a fan of sushi, but if he really was 400 pounds, I'm going to guess he might have fared better than I did that night.

Super fatty white tuna or whatever it is called is still my favorite.

I don't care if that's racist or not. I can't help it.

And obviously, I'm no stranger to body shaming creatures of the sea.

Near the end of this fast paced culinary shenanigan, not only was I lamenting my last order, but upon it's arrival, I was eating the fish and stuffing all the rice into a napkin...which eventually ended up being pocketed in my hoodie so we were assured no extra charges. Yeah, I know...Dan and I only eat sushi at the classiest of sushi joints. Go fuck yourself if you're judging us right now. And yes, I threw that balled up rice into the nearest garbage can once we exited the restaurant.

So here's the deets on that fortune.

Daily Numbers 2, 7, 4

Lotto Six #'s 55, 82, 64, 9, 36, 20

It's that desperate that they are actually just giving out the lotto numbers as opposed to just a string of lucky numbers? Just one more reason for me to despise whatever this is we've all come to recognize as existence.

And the fortune...

A Modest Man Never Talks of Himself.

Not true at all, but I understand where this sushi sage is coming from.

Sometimes you need to talk about yourself and your own experiences in order to convey some sort of wisdom to another. However, and this is where I agree with this fish finder, most of the time, it's not necessary.

I've been subject to a few experiences over the past few years that when I need to talk about them to someone else most of the time as soon as I'm done expressing a bit of why I need to talk, they've already spent most of that time not listening to my words, but thinking about what similar experiences they've had and just how they are going to tell me all about those experiences which I really couldn't give a shit about, as those experiences are nothing like what I'm experiencing and have just about no relevance to my desire to escape the mental abyss I'm all too easily cascading down.

I get it. It's just natural to throw out your own experience, but for the sake of whoever you are talking to just don't for at least seven minutes after you realize someone needs to talk about whatever the heck they need to talk about. Just listen. Just listen. Suck up your need to talk about your own experience and let that person vent for just a bit. I'm only asking seven minutes of your time. Most likely, after seven minutes, enough heartache or sorrow or anger will have been expressed that you can finally breathe easy and let your own narcissistic freak flag fly. Let it out. Shout out your personal understanding. Let it out.

And if, by chance, it only takes them three minutes to vent, I'd suggest you stay silent for the remaining four minutes. That will give you both plenty of time to fully understand the depth of what's been presented. For the venter, that four minutes will most likely allow for the realization that whatever they were bitching about really wasn't that important if it only lasted three minutes, and for the listener, you'll have four minutes with which to come up with something, anything to tear this muthersucker complainer a new one to let him or her know they shouldn't waste your time like this!

Or you can just spend four minutes trying to cower down inside their shoes where the fear smells the most.

I'd suggest the latter, rather than the former.

Now I just need to take my own advice and put it into use.

I try. I do try, but it's not always so easy.

Nothing seems to be easy these days.

I'm not sure if I'm here to learn from others and live life to the fullest, or if I'm just here to be some sort of example (good or bad) to someone else.

Right now, I feel like the latter.

I wish I was EZ Dave Haines right now. That dude must've had it so easy.

Sleazily Easy at that.

Happy Xmas (War Is Over...Mom Edition)

So this is Christmas
And what have you done
Another year over
And a new one just begun
And so this is Christmas
I hope you have fun
The near and the dear one
The old and the young

Christmas is in what, three days?

I haven't bought any gifts. Not one. Haven't even thought about it actually. I just don't care all that much about gift giving at the moment. It doesn't concern me and I'm sorry if some kiddos will be disappointed to just receive a card and some cash, but that's just the way it's going to be this year.

I wish I could just chalk it up to being a scrooge, but that wouldn't be quite accurate. That's not to say there weren't years in the past where it would have been quite accurate, but that's neither here nor there. Okay, maybe it's slightly accurate, perhaps 10%, but not enough for me to count that as being truly accurate.

And don't get me wrong, I'm actually looking forward to Christmas this year, as it's a bit of a change of pace with family members from both sides of the family joining in the festivities. That doesn't happen often. Actually, I'm not sure I can recall it ever happening. My Dad's brother Lou and his wife  Judy are hosting out there in Elmhurst. Unfortunately, my Dad won't be able to make it this year, but that's okay. I've sort of come to expect that that's just how it's going to be most years and I can't really blame him for making that decision. Sometimes those family gatherings can be a bit stressful, ya know? Fortunately, Mom and all the kids and plenty of aunts and uncles and cousins will be there, so good times will surely be had by all.

A very Merry Christmas
And a happy new year
Let's hope it's a good one
without any fear

I really do hope it's a good one for all of us. Pretty sure most of us deserve that at the minimum.

Personally, 2017 isn't going to go down in my history book as one of my favorite years, and to be honest, I'm quite a bit fearful of what 2018 will bring.

My Dad has been skipping these Christmas get togethers for almost 30 years now, so I'm kind of used to it, but I'm not ready for my Mom to start doing the same. I've had plenty of time to prepare for it, but there's just no amount of time sufficient to prepare for such a thing. I've spent the past 42 Christmases with my Mom and in a few days I'll spend my 43rd with her, but I'm scared that there won't be a 44th. Mom was diagnosed with stage IV stupid cancer last October and she did all she could to defeat it...was even declared cancer free at one point, but as we all know, that sort of thing doesn't always last too long and, unfortunately, that's the case this time.

And so this is Christmas
For weak and for strong
For rich and the poor ones
The world is so wrong
And so happy Christmas
For black and for White
For yellow and red one
Let's stop all the fight

My Mom is very pragmatic. She looks at the facts and makes a decision. Of course that's not to say she doesn't sometimes take forever to make a decision, but she's not one to let emotions get in the way of that final decision. She deals in logic. I appreciate that. Much better than having to deal with some nut job who either can't understand the facts or who let their emotions control all of their decision making. Not to mention the poor souls who do both of these things. Buban's don't have time for that kind of bullshit. Mom has taken in all the information, weighed it all, and decided, that for her, it's time to skip out on future cancer treatments. She's had enough.

And if you're wondering, no, she did not consult with me on this decision. I'm not sure why, but if I had to guess, it's because it's not really any of my damn business. It's not my fight. I have no say in when it gets to be over. I don't really want a say. I just want my Mom to hopefully have some more days where she might feel decent. Might be able to eat some breakfast and enjoy it. Might be able to step outside and go for a walk just for the fun of it. Might decide to read a bit of some book she's been putting off. Might have some more energy to yell at Michael about something. Might have some time to send me that $41,817 she owes me for all the chores I did back in the day that she promised to reimburse me for, but never did (FYI, I've included interest payments in that calculation). Might have some time to sit back and just look out the window and watch a few birds fly by while thinking about how nice the day is. Might just do whatever the heck she feels like doing without feeling sick.

I wish I could give her that.

I wish I could give her that.

I wish I could give her that.

Perhaps I can to some small degree.

I can try, right?

Apparently, I was mistaken.

I do have a gift to give, I just didn't realize it.

And no one I've ever known deserves it more than my beautiful Mom.

She's the best!

A very Merry Christmas
And a happy new year
Let's hope it's a good one
Without any fear

And so this is Christmas
And what have we done
Another year over
A new one just begun
And so happy Christmas
We hope you have fun
The near and the dear one
The old and the young

A very Merry Christmas
And a happy new year
Let's hope it's a good one
Without any fear
War is over, if you want it
War is over now

I love you Mom!

Extraordinary Things of the Ordinary.

Brain Cramp.

I never knew Cubs catcher Alex Avila's last name was pronounced Ahhveelahh. All those years of fantasy baseball didn't do shit for me as far as correct pronunciation of names go. It's not Ahveela. Lesson learned.

At some point I'm going to write a post about my cat, but now is not that time. Regardless, she's the most lovable cat I've ever come across, and that includes the kitty red light districts that I've visited over in Iowa.

We're taking it slow though.

How about that Blue Cross commercial featuring just one of many amazingly great songs by 10, 000 Maniacs?

It's Friday night. I'm watching the Cubs/Phillies game and not really liking the results at this point. Cubs will come back though...as soon as this Philly nicknamed Eick leaves the mound. Completely odd and unexpected season for the Cubs following that World Championship 2016 season. That's baseball for ya.

Looks like there isn't going to be a 2017 Buban Bash in case you were wondering. Mark doesn't care. Dan doesn't care. Jennifer is noncommittal. I'm also sort of in that camp. We've got more important things to do with our time I guess. A year off will just make the next one that much better, right?

Maybe.

Work is lined up to kick my ass next week, but it won't. I'll make sure everything gets finished and shipped out on time. I've got seven different projects which all have to ship on Friday. The largest one is about 530 packages, each of which contain some combination of 125 different graphics. I'm still trying to figure out how to organize this one, but I will figure it out. That's what they pay me for.

Ahhh....work....thinking about you on the weekends...

Lame.

Let's go Happ. Bases loaded and you swung through the curve.

Oh and by the way, yes, my cat is lying next to me on the couch.

Happ strikes out. Inning over.

Cubs still down to these stupid Phillies.

Cat is still here. Cat brush is in my sight. Cat needs a good brushing. Okay...three minutes of cat brushing. Hold on.

I gave her an extra minute of brushing and then an extra minute of petting. Such a happy kitty.

Texted a friend about that lying kitty of mine to find out if it's laying or lying. She went with lying so that's what you readers got. I did google it first, but it's still confusing to me and she's pretty damn smart as far as writing and grammar is concerned. Also talked it over with my roommate and we delved into a slightly different conversation about grammar. Two grammar conversations in one night is probably two too many, but that's what my Friday nights consist of these days.

Well at least this one.

Hope you kids aren't talking grammar tonight.

Looks like the Cubs are just going to be dominated by the Phillies tonight.

That's baseball.

My roommate said the message was more important than the grammar. I agree with him to a certain extent, but I do find it difficult to receive a message when it's presented within writing which resembles something a lab chimpanzee might hope to come up with after a few months of practice.

Anyway...