Winter Olympic.... Games?

Is it just me or is anyone else really pumped for the upcoming winter games?  I don't know what it is that the winter has over the summer, I mean most of the sports are kind of comical to me, but I just look so forward to this installment of the Olympics.

Perhaps it's because I was an avid skier, or maybe it's because while on a trip to Austria once, back in the 80's, I got to take a ride down the Olympic bobsled track from the '76 games of Innsbruck.  Whatever the case may be I just get totally beside myself with anticipation as the winter fun draws nearer. 

Now having said all of that, and as much as I do love these wonderfully bizarre two weeks every four years, I do want to go on record as saying that a few of the events, that are nestled within the goodness that is the cold-weather-version of the greatest sports show on earth, could use a bit of makeover, a little bit of a face lift, a tummy tuck, if you will. 

Look, just because I love the games doesn't mean I can't see what might need to be fixed.  In fact it's because of how much I love the winter games that I offer up my opinions.

No sport should ever go without change, especially when trying to match or keep up with the times; not even the sacred sports arena that is the Olympiad. 

After all, what better positive energy source is there for a nation than country on country battle and the experience of pride that comes with victory and sportsmanship?

On the flipside though, there is no better way to tarnish such positivity or moral than to present us with games that are so outdated and or stupid that embarrassment is felt leaving viewership to be all but compromised.

Yes, there are some events that are just plain dumb, and it's made it hard, even for me, to watch them.

So what I would like to do now is I'd like to present to you some suggestions that I have come up; simple ways to make some of the events in the winter Olympic games more updated and or tolerable.

These are thoughts I've had over the past few years about how the winter Olympic games could gain back some of the mystique that it has, in my opinion, lost over the past few sessions. 

What I have come up with here, I believe,  is nothing short of genius and if the right people were to get a hold of this list, we could be in store for some amazing future winter Olympic games.

What do I hope to get out of this, you ask?  Well I guess I'm hoping for some feedback before I set out with my master plan of sending these suggestions to the powers that be, the "National Institute Making Recreation of Diversified Sports", or "NIMRODS" for short.

Anyway, the following is the complete list of the events I have a problem with or simply have suggestions for and how I think they could be made to be more interesting.

They are:

*Curling- Now I know you're thinking "That's an obvious target", and I agree, but there are a few things that can be done to intensify this misunderstood activity. Besides, in America, we want action!

Anyway, first thing to do here is to pick a name that fits the activity, like, "Moronic Shuffleboard" or "Doofuses on Ice".

Next, while these idiots are fanatically sweeping, shirtless by the way, afford the opposing team the right to thwack them with their brooms. Hell, let's up the stakes a bit shall we, what about a garden tool? For instance, let'em beat the shit out of each other with a hoe or maybe even a pitch fork.

How about instead of sweeping the ice we change it up completely? Give these guys a jack hammer or a flame thrower. Better still, how about a earth mover?

Perhaps holding the event on a pond covered by dangerously thin ice? I think that would make it interesting, how about that?

Now I'm sure a few of you out there are mad at me for this and I understand. Maybe some of you really get into this full on display of pure athleticism this sport has to offer. Perhaps you're angry with me for not acknowledging the intellectual side to the Olympic Games. Whatever, I'm just sayin' if you want more Americans to watch curling you'll need to make it worth wasting a beer on.

*Luge- Now here's a sport we all have regular access to. "Hey Bill, wanna come over and luge with the kids?"? What's the skill?!?! I say put these fuckers on a circular sled and that's that! At least then we'd all have a shot at making the Olympics or at the very least, we'd have relatability. You give me a guy in a unitard with a helmet and goggles, put him on a plastic yellow disc and send him down a hill at 83 mph?....... I'm watching!

"Look at Sven as he navigates through the 50/50 tunnel at turn number three, look how he holds the black handles with absolute precision. I tell ya folks, nobody does criss-cross-applesause like this guy; he truly exemplifies the meaning of perseverance and...... Uh Oh!!!, it appears Sven's gotten himself into an uncontrollable spin! Backwards is not a position you want to be in heading into "Devil's Curve".

*Freestyle Skiing (Moguls)- This sport gets an "A" for athleticism but I could make it better.

We all get it, you go real fast over bumps keeping your knees together and you then launch a couple of jumps, first one being the lesser in difficulty. Everyone looks the same to me! Yes I can tell the difference in jumps and yes I can see those that are faster than the others but it still needs something.

It needs something that will break up the monotony, something that will instill a little fear and an element of surprise.  It needs the country on country heat turned up a bit.   I say have random exploding moguls. Think about the excitement! It'll be roulette on snow! In fact, you can let a contestant from another country hold the detonator.

"Let's hear it for USA's Marty Mogul Hunter as he's propelled off jump number one into his patented "Cork-roll-heli-fucker!" This after nearly having his ass cheeks blown across the top of the course. And how about Sweden's own Surgi Yur-gonna-crash'n'burn racing for the finish line, six one hundredths of a second ahead and BOOM,!!! Body parts everywhere!"

In fact, to protect the spectators, you could make it like a Gallagher concert and have the first eight rows under plastic.

Gettin' a little violent for ya?

*Biathlon- Here are three ideas to jump start this painfully boring event.

1.) Allow the spectators to toss Molotov Cocktails at the contestants.

2.) Fill the course with Grizzly Bear and Mountain Lion.

3.) For the shooting portion, use athletes instead of targets! You could pull them from the countries that haven't won any medals yet.  Let's Hunger Games this shit up!  Talk about incentive.......

*4-Man Bob Sled-This sport, and I use that term loosely, needs a total makeover. First thing I would do is widen the course. I want to see all of the overgrown adolescents, and their sleds, going at once.

Speaking of sleds, let's do away with the enclosed rocket-like luxury capsules and put these chromosomal degenerates on an old time rutter job; you know, the kind you steer with your feet. I firmly believe open air sleds will make for better wrecks.

And for this next change I took into consideration how horrible I feel for the three dudes behind the driver. I mean not only for the fact that they've never seen the courses that they risk their lives on but for the fact that the barrel bellied monsters up front get all of the recognition. So it's all heads up from now on; no helmets either.

In fact, let's give these other three creatures more responsibility;  I mean other than hooting, hollering, spitting and slapping high fives.

I think Cro Magnon number two and three should be armed with spears to throw at the other contestants. Then, you can give behemoth number four, the anchor man, a steering wheel just like the pilot. We'll make the sleds really long so they can co steer just like a hook and ladder fire truck. That should make the sharp turns more interesting.

Now, if all else fails, we could always put a concrete wall at the finish line and change the name to the "4 Man Crash Test".

*Speed Skating (Long Track)- This one is simple really, put it to corny music and throw in a limbo stick.

*Speed Skating (Short Track)- This sport is already pretty intense (kinda resembles an overly active beehive after being hit with a rock) so I had to think long and hard here. With the track being so short my first choice was something resembling the obvious, like Roller Derby, then it hit me.......... Hurdles!

*Downhill Skiing-  Sure it's fast!  Sure it's plenty modernized!  But outside of the occasional 85mph, flat-spin cart-wheel, it all looks the same to me.  Like the freestyle skiing I'm going to need something to break up the monotony.  First, do away with the little ski-hut and starting gate.  Too dainty!  I want these guys propelled from the starting line by a sling shot.  I'd also like to see the contestants dressed up like medieval Nintendo game characters.  I want them armed as well.  And while we're at it place a princess in a tower, at the finish line, protected by a moat filled with Nile Crocs and bull frogs.  And forget the one at a time crap; let's send all of these thrill seeking X-junkies down the hill at once!  I can think of nothing more exciting than 2.5 minutes of pure chaotic adrenaline all in the name of chivalry!  Still not enough?  We could always afford each country the right to one air-strike.  Hmm....  Perhaps the course could be lined with trebuchets and fire balls.   

(long inhale) 

And last, but not least....        

*Cross Country Skiing- I Say again... C R O S S   C O U N T R Y   S K'  Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z  ........ I think I'd rather watch footage on the mating rituals of the Serengeti Wool Moth. Nevertheless, here is what I came up with, that is guaranteed to increase viewership, for this excruciatingly hard to watch event. Just after the contestants leave the starting gate, have them set on fire.

Now, as if that wasn't enough, I would like to present to you another list.  Yes, another list.........  This is a list of the events that are not yet recognized as Olympic Games, but if I get my way, they will one day be.  You tell me if you think these wouldn't be fun to watch.


In no particular order, they are:


*200 Meter Snowshoe Dash
(I can't help it; I've always wanted to know who the fastest man, in snow shoes, alive is)

*Democrats and Republicans on Very Thin Ice

*Couples Ice Tap Dancing

*Couples Ice DIRTY Dancing
(Nobody puts Svetlana in the corner)

*Snowball Fights to the End

*Penguin Punting

*Snowboarders Vs Skiers 
(with weapons)

*Neighborhood-Assholes, With-Their-Four-Wheel-Drives-in-the-Snow, Derby

*Seal Costume Water Polo in Open Waters

Well there you have it!  Those are my ideas to intensify, if not revolutionize, the winter Olympic games.   Now, with some luck, and a whole lot of perseverance, we could see these upgraded, and or brand new, events implemented for the 2018 games.  Thoughts?

The Low Road Part II (A Very Random Sequel)

So I've done it again!  I was right in the middle of writing something, a piece I was SURE was going to change the world, when it happened; my thoughts went rogue.   

I want you to picture the scene; my mind littered with unbridled idea-fledglings, flailing about the open plains of imagination, without a care in the world; my thoughts, moments ago pure and purposeful, now an elementary school breeding ground for heathenisitc adolescents. 

Where are their parents???  I'll tell you where they are, they're off to the side, hell-bent-over at the neck, permanently entranced in their "i-getaways".  Forget it!  I'm left to corral these little thought bastards all on my own.

Here's the funny thing though; being of Jewish descent I'm really not much on corralling, and I'm certainly not good with a lasso.  (I do however look stunning in chaps and a vest)  Honestly?... I mean how many Jews do YOU know who are willing to mill about the open plains, imaginary or not, especially when there's not a carry-out in sight?   

So I ask you; what's a Hebrew, rogue-thought rancher, to do?  Does he wine and cry about it or does he buckle down, saddle up, and head out to wrangle up some misguided fluff, all to distribute to the open minded as some would-be giggle fodder?

Confused?  Fear not, as this is all just my way of saying that what you are about to read is not a multi page essay based on events that took place in my life but simply a gathering of things that I've wondered about from time to time. 

This project will not be taking a peek into my past, nor will it be a self inflicted wound covered in a antibacterial coated, self adhesive, word-aid.  This will simply be a collection of thought fragments, things that stir my pot, if you will; a look into the antagonistic images that poke at my brain with a nah-nanny-boo-boo approach all the while attempting to steal away the outlines to, what may or may not be, my literary masterpieces.

Be warned though, as for these next few minutes you will be asked to go on a tour for the ages, a stroll down aimless lane, all the while ingesting a plethora of nonsensical issues ranging from things I want to see, to things that creep me out, and everything in between, like, things you probably will NEVER see, most of which, if not all, are COMPLETELY and UTTERLY plot less.

Things like:

-Isn't it great knowing there are always at least three french fries waiting at the bottom of the bag?

and...

-Is it me or is watching the older generation dial out on a flip cell-phone kind of like watching a caveman and his magic index finger after he's found something "p r e e e  t t y y y y y y"?

-How about the quick sigh of relief you feel when you realize it was just air that came out during that unexpected, albeit violent, sneeze/fart?

 -I ask you; Is there a 90 year old out there with pretty feet?

-What about The funny way 80's throw-back-tough-guy rockers walk on the beach while wearing tight jeans and Reebok high tops?

-Now picture those same rockers after they've pulled their jeans up over their knees having revealed their pasty skin and bony feet

-And how about the obnoxious way, obnoxious men, chew their gum.  Oy!

-Just once I'd like to see a jogger in the fast lane of 695

-I try my very best to get through a grocery self-checkout session without setting off that god awful blinking help-light! 

-Why do old men shake the handful of peanuts before popping one in their mouth?

-Wouldn't it be great if they made humans wear those after surgery pet head-cones?

-Midgets in cowboy hats?

-Midgets in cowboy BOOTS?

-Do you feel demoralized after eating seven or eight of the "100 calorie packs"?

-Where are the Wii SEX games?

-How come I always struggle to find the pitch when I'm singing happy birthday amongst strangers?

-If given the choice, when asked to play board games, I'll take death

-Don't ya hate that little burst of embarrassment when a small crowd has gathered just as you try and separate two shopping carts in failure?

-Even I think Adam Levine is hot

-I passionately hate people who text while driving!  (I totally pay attention when I do it)

-People with really narrow tall heads scare me

-Are people who butt in while you're talking, the ones who completely change the subject, aware that they are assholes?

-How is it even possible to bite the underside of your tongue?

-And how about that subtle "here we go" feeling you get when the doctor says, "OK, why don't you go ahead and take your pants down now"

-Why can't close-talkers have good breath?

-Maybe YOU do, but I really don't give a shit at all that Pat and Vanna have done the show while drunk

-I'd like to find out where the Mayans went wrong


-I can't watch a couple perform breath taking ballet without zeroing in on the astonishingly huge bulge the male dancer always seems to have

-I'm frightened of people with extremely large eyebrows and tiny eyes

-What happened to baseball pants?  When did slacks come in to play?

-I feel a sense of accomplishment when I'm able to slip in and out of a fast food restaurant having only gone in to use the restroom

-What is that random high pitch frequency you get in your ear every now and again?  No one else ever hears mine.  Do we all have our own?

-People who allow their feet to hang way over the front end of their sandals are creepy

-Guys? the toothpick in public does not make you cool

-How come when I look in the rear view mirror I always find a one inch long rebel nose hair who refuses to be yanked or reinserted?

-Why do really old men drive with their mouths wide open?

-I'm also scared of people with cro-magnon-sized foreheads and no chin

-I have no place for people who struggle with reading my body language, especially when it's obviously saying to them: "I could not care LESS about this story so would you PLEASE shut the fuck up!!!"

-I'm a bit uneasy when it comes to that creepy little bit of excitement in the voice of the guy who narrates "When vacations or animals attack"

-How come every time I try to deliver a really good nose blow my tongue has to clog up the works?

-Bet you've never seen two old men at the park playing Pokémon

-I'm sorry but I just don't buy it when the dude with "Born to Kill and Eat Minorities" tattooed on his forehead hands me my #4 value meal and then says, "my pleasure".

-I'd like to think that somewhere two very old black men are holding hands while roller skating

-Enough with the gecko!  It's stupid!

-Just once I'd like to see an orthodox Jew driving a Ford F-350 super duty

-Naked-Twister-Tuesday at the nursing home... why not?

-How odd would it be to see a man with no toes running in flip flops?

-You never hear about someone amputated from the knee UP

-I think it would take balls to hire a hotel lobby pianist who has turrets and yells "FUCK STICK" every time he strikes middle C


OK, purged!  Can I get back to my essay now, please?  Jeesh!

Can I Get Some Ambien?

If there's one thing I've learned, during my many trips to the BJ's wholesale club, it's that the role of the person who looks over your cart and checks your receipt, just before you leave the store,  is not taken seriously enough. 

After many a sleepless night I've come to the conclusion that the right equipment is not issued for the job.  This, I believe, can leave an employee with a feeling of worthlessness that can eventually lead to self doubt; all of which can be detrimental to a patron looking to have an overall glitch-free and SAFE shopping adventure; let alone support the mind set of an entry-level type employee who may or may not be clinging to delusions of advancement.

Me?....I can only imagine how much fun it could be, would be, and should be, to have customers under my control, especially one that may or may not have just gone through a possible self inflicted grueling self-checkout experience. 

Simply put; they need to glorify this title, "receipt-checker" handing more power over to the employee, thereby making it the high ranking position it can and should be.

What would I do differently?....First I would rename the position, if it even has a title at all.  I would stamp it:  "Receipt Perusal Clerk Cart Survey Engineer"; sounds official and will most certainly command attention.  Furthermore, I have always found that sheep will respond well to a cloaked shepherd.

Secondly, I would do away with the single act of punching a hole in a receipt and make it so that the customer has to undergo some sort of right-of-passage-to-exit-ritual set before leaving the store; starting with answering a few questions. This alone opens the door to interaction and is a way for the checker, the last line in a store's defense, to lay dominance over the shopper, thereby claiming upper hand.

Now upon completion of, and in addition to, a five point questionnaire, I believe a complimentary shopper eye exam should be administered.  And, keeping within the framework of our law enforcement, maybe a field sobriety test as well.

I would also have the shoppers, at random selection of course, move all of the items from their own cart in to another. This will give the checker a bird's eye account of all that was purchased and make all others think twice before trying to conceal a twelve hundred pound bag of potatoes under a vacuum fresh side of beef.

I'd then leave it to my checker's discretion as to whether or not a customer should have to pull off to the side for a random second-tier inspection.  I've also entertained the idea of a whipping post; a frisking station is not out of the question either and I've never been one to shy away from the timeless classic that is the full-body-cavity search. After all, you never know where one might be hiding a brightly colored mesh bag that contains 400 navel oranges.

I would issue a uniform! This is critical in the steps to empowerment! My checkers should wear something that stands out, instills fear, and screams HALT!  It should be something that commands attention and respect, something resembling that of a HAZMAT worker, complete with helmet and name tag.

They would be asked to carry a clipboard as well, as this screams of professionalism.  And I would most certainly have holsters fashioned for every last one of my checkers; holsters that will cradle the antiquated weapon that is the hole punch, something fancy-like, possibly made from denim. And all checkers would be required to wear a badge.

A side arm?...I've toyed with that notion but am still waiting on our state's ruling before placing an AK-47 on the shoulder of one of my receipt-check engineers.

You know what else?....I think fences should be erected.  I also think dogs should be brought in, ground forces should be at the ready, and all out border control tactics implemented. I mean, after all, it's pretty dangerous stuff, don't you think?....to stand between a shopper and it's freedom?

Megaphones need to be used! Most definitely! And for extreme cases?...like handling the 'all-business-multi-cart shopper'?...I would ask that a referee's whistle be blown. 

And for those times when things are sure to get out of hand, like at Christmas time, I would probably feel the need to pull out all the stops and make it mandatory that all receipt-checker stations are outfitted with sharp shooters, metal detectors and airport glow-batons.

Now, lastly, and this is very important; If we're really going to get serious about store exiting procedures I think it's time to do away those pulsating buzzer alarms that sound if you try and walk out of a store with stolen goods.  Honestly, is that approach really supposed to stave off an attack of complete lawlessness, one that will surely land my a receipt-checker in a managers office?

People!.. the reputation, the integrity, and the self esteem of the receipt-checker is at stake here! I say, instead of the nonsense that is the pulsating buzzer, the one that nobody ever reacts to anyway, place a cruise-ship air horn in it's place!  I want to stop these fuckers in their tracks; embarrass 'em!  And If that proves insufficient I'll take it to the next level!  I'll install a spring-loaded-jungle-tree-branch-swing-arm-medieval-death-apparatus with spikes!  If the horn blast won't stop 'em, the blow to the chest will!

Again, gaining respect by placing power with the employee, and putting an end to careless store exiting, is what we're after here!  I want embarrassment and  public humiliation!  I want it so that these parasites have no chance when it comes to cheating, poking fun of, and in essence, diminishing the role of, the "Receipt Perusal Clerk Cart Survey Engineer"!

(long inhale)

Break Free the Cozy Chains

To sit
To admire
To yearn
To pray

To bridge the gap that tethers the difference
Born is the insurmountable task at hand

It taunts
It feeds
It seduces
It empowers

Doors are opened and you may now enter

The risk is yours; the reward a mystery
Call on the power, for the gap 'an illusion
Stand strong the passion; for the illusion the reward

The peace lay in the truth you've feared

Man, It's a Long Way Down

Hello Hello Hello? Echo Echo Echo???

There I stand, toes on the ledge, teetering at the canyon Uncertainty. I'm shivering with raw emotion while reaching out to opportunities still a blur.

I take in it's vastness. And with a breath of determination, as old in spirit as the winds themselves, I can taste it. I exhale it back, for serenity is tart on the sweetened bud, only to choke on it's returning gust.

I call to excitement as I am nervous; for at thirty nine I'm allowed to be. I'm also scared; scared as the father of two should be. And I'm ashamed; ashamed as only a husband can be.

I want to jump. What lay beneath the shallow cloud?

Sunny and Seventy Five

As I opened the door and stepped outside a warmth I had not felt all day, let alone all winter, washed over me. With the excitement of a seasonal gift leading the way I stood there for a few seconds.

I closed my eyes and I was twelve. I was throwing a ball to my father. The pool we were next to beckoned with a thousand sparkles, miniature explosions of light that danced on the surface.

I opened my eyes and I was thirty nine. I was tired, scared and beaten from a days work, yet somehow, driven. Could it be, was it warm enough? I knew it was.

And With a deep breath I shelved my memory and headed for the car. Now with an extra pep in my step and anticipation billowing, I giggled. After all, the first one of the year was only a few feet away!

I picked up the pace and in the time it took to cross the parking lot and grab for my keys, the day's woes were forgotten.

I quickly got in and shut the door. I then threw my arm load onto the passenger seat, laid my head back, inhaled the heated fabric and allowed it to happen.

The pressure on my face was welcomed and before long.... they arrived. They started on my neck, just as they always do and they waisted no time spilling over my shoulders. They ran down my upper arms like a gentle breeze causing my hair to stand up and they didn't stop until they reached the tops of my hands.

The second wave started with an exhale release as they spread down along my spine. With the touch of finger nails moving along my skin they caused my muscles to flinch. From there they fanned out to my sides and around towards my stomach, igniting a shiver burst that shook me from neck to waist. And with one last explosion they spread out past my shoulder blades and just like that, the chills were gone.

A sigh of relief then punctured my lips as I melted into the seat. A smile eased it's way onto my face and I knew; Mother nature's hot car massage had done it again.

I'm Sorry, Were You Talking to Me?

I think I have issues......

I'm being serious here, damn it! Over the past year and a half I've asked myself many questions and to find the answers I've had to take many long looks into the mirror. For the most part I'm welcoming of any and all images/answers I find, but one question has me perplexed:

Am I dumb like a fox or unaware that I'm nuts?

Hold that thought.

Let's start simple. I want to take a look into my persistent writer's block. For the past six months I've struggled with what to write about. Every time I try to put thought to keystroke I'm getting punched in the gut with "It just doesn't feel right", or "It's forced" or "So and so might get offended" or "They've read this before". It's gotten so bad that I'm now deleting essays before they even have a chance to mature.

Because of this I have days when I think maybe I'm tapped out -that's all there is, and believe me, it doesn't take long for that to morph into the feeling that this writing thing is just another dead end path.

(Can YOU hear those violins???)....

Wow! Far be it from me to just enjoy something, rather I make it the be all end all, the antidote for my woes, personal and professional.

All in all it seems as though I'm starting to question myself and worse yet, censor myself. I know enough to know that that's dangerous.

Why can't I just go with the flow? Why can't I just write for me? Why do I care so much what people think? Why does sugar free gum give me gas?

Do all aspiring writer's go through this?

Case in point -The other day I actually put together a list of phrases that was so random/bizarre it actually freaked me out, but at the same time it was different and therefore inspiring. So, I thought about if for a while.

When I finally came to I realized just how different it was, and therefore edgy. Then I thought; Why not go with it, it's new, it's exciting? Then?.. I deleted it. %#&@?!?!

What I did next is a true sign of where my head is, I opened up Facebook. Then, I checked weather.com. Then, I ate. Then, I started another essay. Then, I day dreamed of having hot chocolate with six of the brunette Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders. Then, I got excited about what we might be having for dinner when I get home. Then, I ran across the street to Rite Aid and bought some Peanut Chews. Then, it hit me.....

A.D.D!!!???

OY, Is that what has me bottled up all the time? Is writer's block not block at all but just a bunch of unharnessed thoughts running free on the open plains of my brain? Say it isn't so for I do NOT look good in chaps.

Great, something new to stress about! As if my brain isn't busy enough now I have to try my hand at riding the backs of untamed, snorting, slobbering ideas.

Oh well, makes sense I guess. I mean I always knew I had some difficulties with focusing. I just never thought, that what I deemed as my source of creativity and humor, that it would masquerade itself in negativity. Let alone some deranged dude ranch.

Hmph... A.D.D!!!???

Maybe it's true. Come to think of it, my wife and I ARE always arguing about how when she has something important to tell me, that halfway through it she has to say, "You're not with me, are you?"

I would usually say back to her, "It's like I know you are trying to tell me something, I mean, I see your lips moving." Or I'll let her finish and then I'll say "Do you know I didn't get ONE word of what you just said?" Then we bust out laughing and she tells me to let her know when I'm ready. I know it sounds rude but after all these years I hope she gets me.

I've said it before and I'll say it probably three hundred and sixty eight more times; Putting my energy into writing has allowed me to see myself for who I am, from all angles. It's allowed me to get a clearer picture of me and some of the answers I've always wanted... or not.

So let me see if I've got this one right. I'm to understand that I am a blurred-visioned, imaginarian, underachieving, rogue thought-rancher; one who also runs a bed and breakfast for the impromptu mental images and may or may not look stunning in riding pants??? Hmmmm... Is that good or bad?

Hymph... Issues!!!???

Hey look, can I help it if my brain is just so full of stuff that I can't control it sometimes? Can I help it if when the time comes to discipline my five year old that I'm sometimes magically whisked away on a week long spree of linen shopping in the Congo?

And when planning a family gathering, can I help it if the question 'Should we have chicken or BBQ brisket for dinner' sometimes sends me hurling through space to a convenience store in south east Asia; a quaint little hole in the wall where I'm propositioned by two beautiful, blond, street merchants on flying carpets? Misguided as it may be, sometimes shit just pops in my head, ya know?!?!

It's like when I'm having a conversation with someone, periodically, I'll simply check out, shutting down all interpretation receptors. Look, no offense, I lose interest very easily. And from what I understand, that comes with the territory of my new self diagnosed illness.

For the most part it's harmless, you won't notice a thing; unless you're really looking deeply into my eyes. More often than not you'll simply get my glassy-eyed stare as I'm off on a day dreamy trip to a far away place; maybe the ill timed eye roll you noticed and that I now have to pose as an itch;  or possibly even the laugh/sigh that masquerades itself as a throat clear. Tell me something relatively boring; you probably won't know I'm not there.

If you start to tell me something I have little interest in, in GREAT detail, you'll probably get something a little more noticeable, a little more telling, the zombie stare.  It's there I'll envision leaping off the nearest cliff or maybe even removing my eardrums with dental tools. Nothing too serious though, again, just a little harmless day dreaming to get me through the conversation.

Now, should you tell me something that falls into the realm of 'hated subject' or 'COMPLETELY fucking boring', well then we're heading for another level.

Enter, what my sister and I like to call, turret thoughts. Not yet a clinical illness but most definitely an act of subconscious selfishness that's punctuated, not truly revealed though, with the circumstantial glass eyed stare. Up until now though, turret thoughts had no relevance, it was just an inexplicable random act of immaturity.

Allow me to give you a little insight into this painful affliction. Every now and then, while chatting with someone, I'll imagine what it would it be like if I halled off and THWACKED them, right in the middle of a sentence. No warning, no rhyme or reason. Then as soon as I'm able to sweep that image away, in struts; What if I SCREAMED at them, so close that our NOSES were touching?

Believe me I know it sounds strange and I often wonder just how many people think like this but I can't help it. And I never know when it's going to strike.

It doesn't seem to be age discriminatory either. Nor is it gender selective. It all seems to stem from the level of my mood and whether or not I'm interested in what's being told to me.

OY! A.D.D!!!???

So be warned; The next time you want to tell me about that soccer match, the one you had with all of the neighborhood chums, for the THIRD time, you just might get an imaginary open handed slap to your left cheek.

Want to tell me the epic tale of how little Jimmy got his braces, the long version? Better get prepared for your bottom lip to be stretched over your forehead.

Think I wanna hear about Grandma Lulu and her 100th birthday? Think again, I'm now planning to take a bat to the bottoms of your feet.

Please, whatever you do, don't enlighten me on an entire episode of the sitcom I said I didn't care to watch. I really don't want to drag you through the streets tied to my bumper.

And for God's sake, whatever you do, don't tell me about little Betty Lou cutting her eighth molar, I don't want to have to set you on fire.

Ya gotta grab me man! Tell me somethin' good. Tell me something worth hearing. Tell me something that peaks the interest.

I want to hear about Aunt Pearl and her bout with crabs. Tell me about Uncle Junior impaling himself with the antlers of his latest road kill find.

Let me know what happened to Grandma Wilma's hammer toe. Is Grandpa Red still gnawing on it before dinner? That's the stuff I want to hear about!

Forget the mindless chit chat of Terry James, his new job, and how he loves his wife.  Tell me about Robby's lobotomy and how every time the phone rings he sports a hard-on, hoots like an owl, and then soils  himself. Woo Hoo, interesting stuff!

You want to keep my attention? Don't speak to me about the weather, the stock market, lawn mowers and cars. Tell me about how you want to hunt down and kill all remaining sperm whale.

Give me something original, will ya? I want you to tell me that your parents were just arrested for spear heading a movement that will allow geriatric prostitution to see a federal tax credit. Now THAT'S interesting.

Do ya see what I'm getting at? Let's drop the charade, people. For goodness sake I'm beginning to think I've developed Attention Deficit Disorder when all I really need is to hear something stimulating.

Ahh, who'my kidding? I probably need to distance myself from people all together. I think maybe I should get a job ringing some huge bell in some tower somewhere.

I know! Maybe I should turn to the books. Hey, as a matter of fact, you would've thought that with all this trouble in conversation that I would have become an avid reader, wouldn't you have? That's it! What better way is there to avoid imaginary aggravated assault charges than to pursue stimulation through written word?

Not a chance!

I tried reading once back in high school. The paragraphs always seemed to turn into shapes just like the clouds do. Shoot, sometimes paragraph three would yell out "Freedom" and wage all out war on paragraphs one and two.

That was a horrible time. Letters strewn across the pages laying in pools of their own ink. Limbless K's would scream for the medics as the inerts of many Q's fouled the air. Life would spill from topless T's and capitol R's, who'd lost their front hash, would tip forward as crippled P's. Na, reading wasn't for me and so it's a time I would rather forget.

Why do you think it takes me so long to put one of these essays together and then post it? I hate proof reading them, that's why. As a matter of fact, half way through this one I found myself riding bare back on a Shetland pony over the rolling hills of Dublin in search of good Cheddar cheese.

Really? A.D.D!!!???

Ok, so where do we go from here? I mean hey, so I've got some issues. Look, it can't be that serious, can it? I mean I get my work done, the kids are wonderful and the house is taken care of. Should I be stressing myself out like this?

I'm pretty high functioning, right? It's not like I get up in the morning, go downstairs to get ready for work, go out the front door and try to start up a game of beach volleyball. I mean I can function and I am with it, right?

What is that anyway, to be "with it"? My father used to use the phrase "Get with it" all the time, still does.

Is "With it" to conform, stripping yourself of all creativity and individuality? Is "With it" to mind your own business, keeping all thoughts to yourself? How about blending in to the background, is that being "With it"? Perhaps standing idly by and letting people fill the air with dangerous words of no substance, is being "With it".

You know what? Maybe I'll just stay "Without" it.

OK, so my imagination tends to take me on little journeys every now and then. So I might imaginarily attack the occasional innocent would be conversationalist. He's none the wiser or aggressed upon.

What is one to do about this? Do I just go with it or do I get with it?

Hmph... Did I type all of that outloud?