Go for it....

Today is the day. The final chapter. Rocky Balboa.

I was at The Tavern with my friend Scoob last night and the trailer played on the tube.

I got muy excited. Muy. Denise, the bartender, asked me questions. Tons.

I not only knew all the answers, but provided a near perfect rendition of the "Rocky Theme Song"

If you didn't know, This year marks the 30th anniversary of Rocky.

Can you believe it?? That bitch has been fighting for a LONG time!

Go, Rocky. Go.

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Not that I expect anyone to really comment here, but I am really interested to see who is reading this. If you don't want to leave a comment, just send me an e-mail and say hi.

I won't e-bomb you... I promise.

ARE YOU F**KING KIDDING ME???

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It doesn't take a Rocket Scientist.....

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The answer is actually D: A Kettle

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Yes, Vieira.... that's my final answer.

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on a different note, I once knew an Elephant named Peanut....

Dry. But so very funny...

Stock Watch

Stock prices are booming while analysts scramble to figure out how, after three straight quarters of underperformance, this beverage company is in the midst of record-breaking sales.
12/15/06 8:21 AM

It was a Republican!

With the change of power in the Senate swinging from the Republicans to the Democrats, and that tightly gripped thread of power so aggravatingly held by someone with poor health...
I think he was a target by the GOP to swing that balance of power back... ooooh the conspiracy... CSI: Senate.. coming to Fox in January....




Doctor says Sen. Johnson suffered brain hemorrhage
A Democratic senator from South Dakota was in critical condition Thursday after undergoing surgery to repair a brain hemorrhage.

Monkey, a rainbow, and Betty taking up a whole parking space

I'm sorry, Blogger beta....

Didn't mean to not post in 4 months.
Not my fault.
Life happens.
Dogs happen.
Kids happen.
You, however, happen when nothing else happens.
I think that's wrong, however. I think it should be opposite.
I think YOU should happen BECAUSE things happen.
Today, I vow to change. To be the right kind of blogger.
To blog the good blog.
To not only talk the blog, but walk the blog.

Proud owner of a 4 year old...

At 12:05 yesterday I celebrated Emma's birthday. I think back to the last four years and how much she's grown... and how much I've grown and learned. It's wonderful that Emma has come into contact with those important to me and they are able to share in our life. It's equally as wonderful that Emma has become their little friend as well. Many thanks to everyone who called or emailed yesterday to wish Emma a Happy Birthday...

withdrawal, employment, etc.

Withdrawal has already begun even though Monkey doesn't leave until Saturday morning. I will see her Friday for a little while, but then won't see her again for 10 days. I don't like this. She and her mom are going to the beach for 10 days. I've gone 7 days before. It was horrible, but I had things to do to keep me occupied. This time, I have nothing. Well, that's not true. I start a new job on Monday. That will keep me occupied during the day. But at night, I can already see myself sitting on my porch. Missing her and our routine. Smoking a shit-ton of cigarettes.

On a different note, 2 weeks ago I accepted an offer to work at a Robotics company in Durham. I have only been at Misys for 10 months, but decided that it was a strategic move. Strategic because it's a new, privately owned company that gives employees the ability to use their creative capacity to get the job done. I'm pretty fucking creative, at times. I think I'm a perfect fit. Not only will the job, company, and money kick ass, but I'll get to work again with one of my best friends from Kodak. I taught him alot of what he knows, so it will be easy to step into this role already knowing his expectations and already respecting his work ethic. Not to mention a built-in smoking buddy.

Let's see. Puppy fever has set in after going with Jessica to pick up her new Shit-zoo. A quick trip to the pound was just what I needed. I've decided on a chocolate lab. Good with kids. Docile (when they are older), easy to train, and just a great dog. I might have to wait until after Monkey's surgery and her new diet starts, because Gluten-free food is expensive! 3 bucks for a small box of noodles! Holy shit! I'm going to have to start donating plasma just to be able to afford to feed my child!

I had a party on Monday. It was AWESOME. My favorite people came over for wine, coffee and j.d., and whatever else we could think of to mix with coffee. Good friendship was definitely felt that night. I look forward to the next one.

The Small Male Froofroo Dog Naming List

A project of sorts was handed to me this morning as I sit on my porch in my rocking chair sipping a cup-a-joe, sifting through e-mails, wondering what I am going to do with my day. Timing couldn't have been better, since my choices for todays meanderings were:
1) movie watching and tostito munching
2) dishes, laundry and miscellany
3) go to work (yea right. What are they gonna do? Fire me?)
4) smoke cigarettes and count how many bugs are stuck between the screen and frame on my porch
5) make a list of puppy names befitting a king. A master. A rough, tough bastard with an affinity for leg humping and toy hiding..

I choose 5. I'm a good namer.

Mind you, this list is not all-inclusive. Names will come and go in my mind and I shant spend too much time on one name before moving on to another. Im a.d.d. like that. Jessica wants a big name for a small dog. Or a funny name. I can do that. I can do both. At the same time. I'm wicked smart like that.

So, for all my friends, Jessica's friends, and our combined friends whom I've not yet had the pleasure of meeting who make their way to this specific blog on this specific day, I present to you The Small Male Froofroo Dog Naming List

Ash
Bandit
Bubbles (Tiny Bubbles, to be exact. Doesnt it make you giggle?)
Giggles (you're welcome, Jessica. I know you like that.)
Dozer
Tank
Stud (why, Jessica? Why??)
Monkey (I think we should change the spelling to Monkie to differentiate between her little male dog and my almost-four year old Daughter)
Cane and Abel (if she gets two, we should pit them together and see who wins)
Cane (yes again. If its a white dog, name it Cane. Not like Co-Caine you drugged out hippy. Sugar Cane.)
Zeke (BIG dog name. Under-utilized in my opinion)
Bailey JakeScout (inside joke. Jessica and I have an inside joke. I'm special.)
Binky
Stay (Come, Stay! Stay....Come! Sit, Stay!... Stay...Come! (you get it. it's mean. so am I.))
Beefcake (kickass.)
Mange (it will keep strangers away.)
Dionysus (yes. The Greek God of wine. He shall drink. Especially if Im dogsitting.)
Dickie (Dickie Dick. Sorta like Richie Rich, but funnier. For those of you who need an explanation, Jessica's last name is Dick. Go ahead and laugh. I do.)
Drixoral (yes. An antihistamine. Jessica might be allergic. Then she can nub up on him and not get weepy.)
Douchebag (EVERYbody needs a dog named Douchebag)
Easyrider (insert last name. laugh amongst yourselves)
Ewok (dont know where this came from.)
Goliath (another BIG dog name)
Nuts (yet again insert last name. I amuse myself)
Napoleon (a small dog. Like the man. Only hairier. And without a French accent)
Amigo
Bogart
Chaucer (ask Jessica. She likes it.)
Barbie (silly little gay dog.)
Chopper (grrr)
Turdburglar (it rhymes. Rhyming names are in)
Tequila (for me. Please.)
Rebel
Kevin (a wonderful dog name, if I say so myself)

So. This is just the beginning. If this naming extravaganza takes a long time, I will be adding to this list. Im also open for suggestions. Wait. Let me rephrase. I will read your suggestions and decide if they are worthy of tacking on to my list. Please note, if you send in a suggestion that is beyond brilliance, I will steal it and claim it as mine. I dont want anyone taking credit for their own hard work and wittiness... except for me.

A little privacy, please....

As some of you may know, Monkey had her first ballet/tap class last night. She was such a little firecracker! I put her to bed in her tap shoes last night, because I figured it wouldn't hurt anything, and she would probably give me less grief about having to go to bed. This works for me. However, after I was confident that she was asleep, I went into her bedroom and took off her shoes. All is well at this point.

However.

This morning, I slept in a little (ok, alot.) and went into the bathroom to turn on the shower when the youngin' monitor erupts with a screaming monkey. "Daaaaaddddddyyyyyyyy.... (6 second pause) .......Daaaaaaaaddddddddddyyyyyyyyy.....(another 6 second pause)........ Daaaaaaaaaddddddddddyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy....."! I'm pretty good about getting in her room by the third calling. It's cute because each yell is more drawn out than the one before. So I walk into her room and she is sitting on her bed with her arms crossed, holding her new bear that my boss got her when she was in the hospital, and she asks me, "why are my tap shoes on the floor?" Stop. Change to "Deer in Headlights" stance. "You must have taken them off in your sleep, sweetheart..." Why in God's name did I just lie to my child? No turning back now. "I want my shoes back on." I put her shoes back on and got her out of bed and she followed me into my bedroom where she crawled into my bed with her tapdance shoes and pulled all the blankets up to her ears (yes. she likes her ears covered). I tell her I'm going to get in the shower but I'm going to close the door. She asks why. I tell her that I need a little privacy, please. Fine. After my shower, I wrap the towel around my waste and open the door. She is still laying there covered up to her ears. We converse for a moment while I shave. Then I close the door. She asks me why again. I tell her I need a little privacy. Fine. By the time I open the door again, Monkey is in her room with the door shut. I go in there to attempt to get her dressed. She is not in her room. I look around and notice her closet door is closed. I open the door and she is standing in there, naked in her tapdance shoes, putting on her clean underwear. She stops and looks up at me and with the sassiest voice says to me, "a little privacy, please...."

Smartass.

Wonder where she got that from...

My little Ballerina and other things....

Monkey has her very first Ballet class today! That's right. Juliard, here we come! I am going to be the beaming, retarded father in the corner snapping pictures the ENTIRE time I am there. She has a little leotard, and dance shoes, and she has to have her hair pulled up (which I'm worried about). I can't do hair very well. I have managed a few times to get perfectly straight pigtails, or a pseudo-braid.... but we'll see. I think I'm gonna have to go to CVS and pick up some of those hair clip things that look like a plastic claw. I have little ones but they will not do the trick.

I will be posting pictures of her first class...

OH! This morning.
We seriously need to talk about this.

I was driving down the Durham Freeway coming to work this morning. The wind is blowing. The rain is coming down hard. I am in the left lane driving with traffic, but giving a few extra car lengths to the car in front of me so I don't make them nervous when this PRICK in a BMW gets right on my ass and starts flashing his lights. Number one rule, don't do that. You will be forced to avoid slamming into me when I hit the brakes. This pisses him off. So he jerks to the other lane and pulls up next to me (we are doing about 60 mph) and he stares, so I feel obliged to give him the finger and stare at him while I do it. This does not make him happy, so he speeds up and attempts to cut me off, but in doing so, he hydroplanes into a spin and crashes his car into the median, completely ruining the entire front and side of his car! Serves you right, asshole.

Yes, I did pull over and ask him if he was ok, if he had a cell phone, did he need me to call someone, did he need me to wait on him...

but only after calling him an idiot did I ask these things.

That'll teach 'er

I have a gift.

The gift of being able to sleep through anything. Or so I thought until 5:45 this morning...

Bear with me on this one, because there are so many details.

Monkey goes to sleep at or around 8:00 p.m. I, on the other hand, go to sleep around 1:00 a.m. or later, depending on how many cigarettes I have left, or how keyed up I am because I don't know how to say no to caffeine. Monkey's bedroom is on the other side of my apartment, but my bathroom butts up against the wall in her room, so sometimes when I shower in the morning, the noise will wake her up. That little tidbit of information has no relevance to this story. Monkey's bed is a wooden bed with two long rails that fit on both sides, so she is, in essence, is in a pine encasement at night. She can climb in when it's time for bed, but prefers not to climb out. This works for me.

When morning comes, I get up, get a cup of coffee, get in the shower, get dressed, eat cereal (or not) and do what I have to do before I get Monkey up. I enjoy this time. It's "me" time. This morning, I laid there with my eyes closed and listen to the monitor to try and hear her stirring, snoring, or moving around. Nothing. Thinking this is strange, because she never gets out of her bed, I open my eyes and she is standing beside my bed staring at me in the face with a smile on her face and her hands covering her mouth as if trying to keep from making a sound! Needless to say, I got freaked out. Sorta like the scene in "Dawn of the Dead" when the couple is laying in bed and the next door neighbor's daughter is just staring at them. Freaky! I have a feeling if this happens again, and I notice she's there before I open my eyes, I'm gonna have to "BOO" so she knows that I can appreciate her being quiet, but not the whole standing there thing.

I hit the nail on the head....

Sometimes I think life comes at us at such a wicked pace, that we don't even have the time to sit back and catch our breath! Events, people, jobs, relationships... not especially in that order... they can be so overwhelming at times. Too seldom do we take the time to kick back, RELAX, and just think about all the little details. When we do finally get the time, some of the things we thought at the time to be massive, horrendous happenings, they all of a sudden seem manageable and not so overwhelming. It is amazing what time can do. It can either make you realize that you have made the right choices, or it can be an eye opener and make it clearer as to what you really want.

Determination

Monkey was so sweet this morning. She woke up in her typical fashion (I pick her up from her bed and take her to the couch where she sits on my lap facing me with her head on my chest). I got her dressed, checked her blood-sugar, fed her, teeth brushed, and out the door in only 15 minutes (go me). She had a rather restless evening, though. Still getting used to it being only the two of us, she whined a bit and kept begging and begging for someone to come over, in which I calmy responded, "not today... maybe another day". Another day turns into a week... and I feel terribly guilty. But this morning, she says to me, "daddy... guess what. it's ok when we don't have company." It made me smile. However, by the time we were at school, she was asking the same question again. She doesn't miss a beat.

I get tired of hearing this....

I don't want to hear "where are all the good guys?" My best friend asked me today where all the good guys are. I politely told her, "they are everywhere, but the guys you attract are directly related to the bait you use." And you know what? It makes sense. But then we got into a conversation about how people change in the middle of a relationship, and how some people's true colors show after the feelings have gotten very strong. And that's when she told me that alot of guys can be good guys in the beginning, but when you finally settle in, they either freak out or get tired of the relationship. And then they aren't so good any more. I had no answer to that one. I'm still trying to figure that one out myself.

Inside.

"The less we worry how people view us, the more we are willing to set ourselves free."


I think to the people around me who are suffering, lost, or don't know who they are. I say a prayer for you today.

This Weekend

OK. So I discovered the key to smoking ALOT less. It's called Natural American Spirit Tobacco. and no stress.... and being busy... but now we are getting away from the true message here. American Spirit. Winston cigarettes post on the box that they contain no additives. 100o additives. But they are forgetting one. The one that makes it burn much faster than plain cured tobacco. But not American Spirit. Oh no. It generally takes me about 4-5 minutes to smoke 1 Winston (or Camel, because it's the best fucking cigarette on the planet). It takes me almost 15 minutes to smoke an American Spirit. Not to mention the fact that I feel better when I smoke American Spirit. And they are delicious. Yes, delicious. I smoke 2 packs of Camel cigarettes daily. However, I only smoke 1/2 pack of American Spirit. Just what I need to tone down the nicotine before quitting, which happens soon. How soon? This weekend... hence, the subject of this blog. Oh. And we are going on a trip to the mountains this weekend! It's supposed to be very nice ...

Today I:

Woke up 1 hour late.

Attempted to fix the braids in my daughters head from the day before because it's just so damn cute.

Procrastinated. Alot.

Drank WAY too much coffee.

IM'ed WAY too much to get any work done.

Wished my parent a Happy Wedding Anniversary (38 years)

Became sad that I may be already too old to have a 38th wedding anniversary.

Figured out that it doesn't matter as long as I am with the woman of my dreams (whoever she may be)

On a separate note, I'm excited. Tonight will be fun.

My very own...

Tonight, I spend time with my very own. I've learned the value of "me" time and am quite excited about it. After the park and a possible float in the pool (if the water is warm enough), Monkey and I are going home and spending some much needed quality time together. I do miss her. I was unfortunately not able to take her with me this weekend, but Daniela was more than kind enough to take her so I could go. Candyland or Chutes and Ladders. That's the decision she needs to make tonight. No television. Her favorite food (chicken nuggets, french fries, and chocolate pudding with sprinkles), a bath, and then a game and story before bed. Then I sit on my porch and read, talk to friends, or do whatever. At least until I'm out of cigarettes, or tired. Whichever comes first.

Finally....

Nothing like welcoming the spray of saltwater, the hot sun, the perfect breeze, a few great friends, and the long missed feeling of contentment. I needed this vacation; this getaway from the tragedy of this last month.

Who knew....

Daniela (Emma's mother) and I told Emma last night that Max, our dog, had passed away. We drove to Daniela's work and waited outside on a bench for her to finish up... well, more like I waited on a bench while Emma played with some kids that she had met less than 2 minutes from us getting there. We sat her down on the bench and I explained how every morning Max and Rusty get fed, but this morning, only Rusty got fed because Max's body stopped working and he went to sleep forever. She understood what I was saying, and was of course saddened, but didn't skip a beat. She asked how soon until she got another dog. God I love her.
On a separate note, I got a call from Daniela last night. The other dog, Rusty, did not take things so well. He spent most of the night baying and whimpering (something he has never done before) because his little buddy was not with him. At least, that's the only thing we could think of as to why he was so vocal. No matter how much they fought and ignored each other, there must have been a love between the two of them that only they knew. Who knew dogs have love/hate relationships as well...

Max

My dog passed away this morning. It was perhaps one of the most difficult things I have ever had to go through alone, which is interesting to say, especially with the last 3 weeks being utter torture. He was a 9 year old, 22 lb. Eskimo dog, with white fur, and a flowing white mane. He loved children, especially Emma. I don't know why he died. I hope to find out today, as I had to take him to the Rollins Necropsy Clinic in Raleigh this morning.

Tonight is the hard part. How to tell your daughter that her dog is dead.

Nothing's Coming...

Nothings coming. What I know of the world is bottlenecked behind my insufficient talent. If I could conjure the urgency of my heart into a single sentence or simply describe the hummingbirds nectared lance spearing the contents of a blossom while a tom cat pads toward him through the peonies. Hell, Id drink to that. But I cant conjure an opener, not a trickle of truth, let alone a stream of unconsciousness made conscious by a paragraph that proves we still have our humanity, inalienable from our flesh, as long as there is a glass of even-filled to offer a toast, soil and sun, toil and trouble, the intoxication of summer days spent down by the river, young-limbed and bramble wild, splashing through the current, stealing the first kisses in battered pick-up trucks with Patsy playing and one knee painstaked against the steering wheel. What was her name who dared to wetly whisper your favorite tune into your ear, with the scar on her hip, and the father that died in a grassfire? We all yalp sweetly and mark an X in our own way to state we are alive. Patience. Of course faith ferments, if you sit on your green urgency too long. But whats the hurry? Have a sip of wine, swish it across your tongue. What we all know of sorrow, let this moment stand as fruitful enough. Edit later.
~RMA

Before me a bottle...

Before me a bottle, a corkscrew, an empty glass. Do I dare? This is a magic vintage, and my spirit weakens from the remembering. The bottle-temptress is green, smoky-green, green of lichens and cool thickets where lovers escape from parched Augusts and prying eyes. Green of layered petticoats hiding soft and voluptuous shapes, a liquid-like rustling that hints at meadows full of birdsong and fountains sweet to please. Green beaker of hope, you are the throb of cult mysteries. You are raw emeralds and the drum of approaching thunder. I tremble before your dark green depths, your swollen blood reds and delicious overripe blacks. O beautiful red-breathed fairy in your green glass gown, nymph of golden-spurred drunkenness, handmaiden of couplets and charms, when I lift your mouth to make you mine you need no coaxing: inch by inch you reveal your naked scarlet self, a cloudburst of pinks and blushes, a torrent of flesh-soft rubies crushed together in a midnight lake of shimmers and crimson licks. I put my lips to your yearning pools and drink. Drink! Your peppered velvets soften my tongue, my grateful throat. When I taste you I taste springtime and rain, violets and eternity, your liquid soul a deep dim of colliding nights and secret harbors. When I taste you you make my mouth electric, and shock my words with lightening. I steady my pen, desperate to describe the heavenly lift of your burgundy wings. But first, another sip
~ZA

Yes, Chuck. I, too, will post your praises.

Chuck Norris' tears cure cancer. Too bad he has never cried.
Chuck Norris does not sleep. He waits.
Chuck Norris does not hunt because the word hunting infers the probability of failure. Chuck Norris goes killing.
If you can see Chuck Norris, he can see you. If you can't see Chuck Norris you may be only seconds away from death.
Chuck Norris sold his soul to the devil for his rugged good looks and unparalleled martial arts ability. Shortly after the transaction was finalized, Chuck roundhouse kicked the devil in the face and took his soul back. The devil, who appreciates irony, couldn't stay mad and admitted he should have seen it coming. They now play poker every second Wednesday of the month.
Chuck Norris is currently suing NBC, claiming Law and Order are trademarked names for his left and right legs.
The chief export of Chuck Norris is pain.
Chuck Norris ordered a Big Mac at Burger King, and got one.
Chuck Norris counted to infinity - twice.
When the Boogeyman goes to sleep every night he checks his closet for Chuck Norris.
To prove it isn't that big of a deal to beat cancer. Chuck Norris smoked 15 cartons of cigarettes a day for 2 years and acquired 7 different kinds of cancer only to rid them from his body by flexing for 30 minutes. Beat that, Lance Armstrong.
Chuck Norris built a time machine and went back in time to stop the JFK assassination. As Oswald shot, Chuck met all three bullets with his beard, deflecting them. JFK's head exploded out of sheer amazement.
A blind man once stepped on Chuck Norris' shoe. Chuck replied, "Don't you know who I am? I'm Chuck Norris!" The mere mention of his name cured this man blindness. Sadly the first, last, and only thing this man ever saw, was a fatal roundhouse delivered by Chuck Norris.
Chuck Norris can touch MC Hammer.
When Chuck Norris sends in his taxes, he sends blank forms and includes only a picture of himself, crouched and ready to attack. Chuck Norris has not had to pay taxes ever.
Chuck Norris once ate three 72 oz. steaks in one hour. He spent the first 45 minutes having sex with his waitress.
Chuck Norris doesn't read books. He stares them down until he gets the information he wants.
Chuck Norris is not hung like a horse... horses are hung like Chuck Norris
Chuck Norris sleeps with a night light. Not because Chuck Norris is afraid of the dark, but the dark is afraid of Chuck Norris
As a teen Chuck Norris impregnated every nun in a convent tucked away in the hills of Tuscany. Nine months later the nuns gave birth to the 1972 Miami Dolphins, the only undefeated and untied team in professional football history.
Chuck Norris likes to knit sweaters in his free time. And by "knit", I mean "kick", and by "sweaters", I mean "babies".
A Handicap parking sign does not signify that this spot is for handicapped people. It is actually in fact a warning, that the spot belongs to Chuck Norris and that you will be handicapped if you park there.
Chuck Norris always has sex on the first date. Always.
Chuck Norris is 1/8th Cherokee. This has nothing to do with ancestry, the man ate a fucking Indian.
Someone once tried to tell Chuck Norris that roundhouse kicks aren't the best way to kick someone. This has been recorded by historians as the worst mistake anyone has ever made.
Chuck Norris died ten years ago, but the Grim Reaper can't get up the courage to tell him.
Chuck Norris lost his virginity before his dad did.
At birth, Chuck Norris came out feet first so he could roundhouse kick the doctor in the face. Nobody delivers Chuck Norris but Chuck Norris
Chuck Norris does not teabag the ladies. He potato-sacks them.
Chuck Norris once ate a whole cake before his friends could tell them there was a stripper in it