4:30am at Dunkin' Donuts

It’s 4:30am and I’m at a Dunkin’ Donuts, which can only mean 3 things: I’m an insomniac, waiting for my drug dealer, or an insomniac who’s waiting for my drug dealer.

I assure you, it’s not my drug dealer…he’s not answering his beeper. Bang-Zoom-and that’s what Dave Letterman called The Pyramid Of Comedy. This clearly was one of the foundation blocks. (Remember that? When he had Biff dress up in an ancient-Egyptian-looking hat and he would build a pyramid from the worst jokes up? No? Maybe YouTube…Maybe I’m just old.

Any other insomniacs out there? Raise your hand. A few kindred spirits. Any people out there who get a full night’s sleep? Don't be shy. No, huh? Oh, right, you're ASLEEP.

So insomnia, not a fan. A troubled mind? Soul? Or simply, the apnea a sleep-study I took decided?

Whatever the reason, it leaves me awake and here at Dunkin’ Donuts with a strange and motley assortment of people like that guy in the corner with jiggling leg, stained blue t-shirt, obnoxiously small-sipping his coffee every time to see if it’s too hot before taking a semi-full sip...and he bought it a half-hour ago, and writing something really stupid about insomniacs on his cheap laptop computer.

Did you see that? How I lead it back to me? That's another building block on The Pyramid Of Comedy.

Well, if there are any other insomniacs out there. Love’d to hear from you and all your stories of woe…and any solutions like rubbing the belly of a toad on the back of my neck.

Seeing Through Someone Else's Eyes...

...and the reward that may await you.

life becomes small
when you look through your eye
a door down a hall
you can't reach though you try

when nothing exists
until you say it does
and to those who resist
you say it's so just because

I say widen you're stance
see your day through their head
for if you endeavor this chance
you may take them to bed

Who has their Own Kryptonite?

I mean something that leaves you, nerves shattered so badly your whole existence gives in and you're curled on the ground in a fetal position twitching, nearly insane?

No? Me, neither. Okay, I do. Bet you do to. Example:

Several years ago, a friend of mine and I were going daytrippin' to a beach over an hour away...you know, a real beach, meaning there would be a lot of girls we could pretend might like us...not that we'd go up to them, as there'd be no challenge to it they'd like us so much.

Anyway,
We had to take a highway there and we're going about 65mph, when suddenly my friend - who's driving - starts in a voice rising to a scream: Make it stop, make it stop, make it STOP, MAKE IT STOP!

And he SLAMS on the brakes, screeching us into the breakdown lane, leave part of his tires in a zig zag skid on the road. 65 to 0...like that. He grabs his head and holds on, breathing out and goes: I can't stand that.

Stand what? Styrofoam on Styrofoam.

It was the cheap cooler we bought to put ice and sodas in. The top had come loose and started jiggling on the less than smooth road we were on. So, his kryptonite? Styrofoam.

Me. Metal against gravel or tar...especially a shovel for some reason. I'm done. That twitching fetus on the floor. I can be talking and laughing and joking and ready to take on anything, shoveling away snow with my PLASTIC shovel and someone else will suddenly hit driveway with their METAL shovel, and I'm done. Baam. Like that. Mid-sentence.

And it's one of those slow-motion-twirling-round-and-down-as-motor-control-over-speech diminishes-to-that-of-a-person-who's-just-had-a-Novocaine-injection-and-I-all-but-collapse-or-do type of done.

Now kryptonite. Those are rare tiny fragments of Superman's planet Krypton after it exploded that rained as meteorites onto Earth. My friend and my Kryptonites can be purchased at any local store...for cheap.

And so, if we were the superheroes, all the criminals would have to do is rub Styrofoam together or repeatedly scrape metal on gravel. Not only would we definitely not get our own type of "Bat Signal", we wouldn't get a call. And if we called them: Thanks guys, but we've got this one handled...and as they'd hang up, we'd hear them laughing out: It was the SuperZeroes again.

So, your kryptonite?

A Poem To The Working Person

The phone rings
The dog sings
The clock brings
Life into my day

The eggs fry
The toast is dry
I say goodbye
And am on my way

The ride's the same
But whose to blame
I forget the name
Of who I'm driving

I reach the shop
My car I stop
My briefcase I drop
As I'm arriving

My boss is mad
But he's wearing plaid
And so I'm glad
At what he's mad at

The hours pass
They're done at last
I'm home so fast
to my welcome matt

Mount Fuji

The wonder of it all - Paul McCartney

How To Kill Time

I had time to kill today waiting for the doctor...who surprisingly was running late.

So, to comfort myself, I decided to think of other things, but very quickly I backed up and began to wonder if I was thinking of anything at all. And then I backed up some more and starting mulling over whether I was actually wondering about actually thinking about anything at all.

I pondered this awhile…and then a vision came to me, and I began to consider just how different my life would be if, long before I was born, I had this relative who was walking through town with his mother and fell down an open manhole after shouting, “Hey Ma, watch me fall down an open manhole.”...

...after which, he was unanimously named "Dumbest Person in the County,” the award being created specifically because of him...by his mother.

So, how would would my life be, know I came from a lineage that dumb?

Just then, the the doctor called my name and I had to go.

Guess I'll never know.

I'll tell you, killing time is exhausting.

A wish for famous 'Apocalypse Now' line

You know the one: I love the smell of napalm...

Well, even if they quote or show more of it including the part about 'the smell, that gasoline smell...' they always leave out his final line.

After he says: It smells like victory...

he pauses a moment, then says: someday this war's gonna end...
...and with a small nod, he stands and leaves.

It just humanizes the man so much, adds such a depth. He's out there but not THAT out there. No matter how much he displays his maccho bravado and will walk through his time there without a scratch, he wants it to end, too.

Such a great end to that, such great, great writing, but alas, lost in the 'greatest hit' of napalm smelling like victory line.

Such is life.

What Friends Are Really For

You ever have one of those days when you're about a quarter inch off? When for some reason, you've lost a bit of control of your body...and mind...and sense. You know, the ability to think?

Dangerous combination.

So, I'm heading to India soon and I'm out shopping with a friend.

First, we walk into a store that has an open door. Well, he walks in, I smash into the perfectly shined glass that looked invisible and so on I walked. My friend broke out laughing...and I mean laughing. True if I really looked, I would have seen the sticker there simply to show it's a window and not a door.

Next, we're looking through rows of stuff. I back up to get a better look at something and back into someone. I immediately say 'I'm sorry'. My friend's cracking up. I don't think a nanosecond passed between my apology and his laughter...which was so loud, it drew attention. A lot of attention.

Well, it turns out I had bumped into a stand-up cardboard poster advertising Will Smith in Hancock.

Lastly, one moment I'm bending down looking at an item on the bottom row...and the next I'm lying on my back looking up at the ceiling, my balancing act having failed miserably.

All of this within a half hour, all of this within the same store. Well, That did it for my friend. He just about pissed his pants, he was laughing so hard.

And that's what friends are for. It's as simple as that.

Grocery Line Complainer

So, I’m in line at the grocery store yesterday and the customer - a woman, not that it matters but to give you sorta detailed picture, an elderly woman to give you a sorta, somewhat detailed picture - is purchasing some fruit.

The cashier – a girl, not that this matters either, but for a sorta somewhat, fairly detailed picture...a teenage girl to give you the sorta-est, somewhat-est, fairly-est detailed picture you’re going to get - picks the fruit up, either to add the price and move it down or to weight it and move it down. This made sense to me.

Well, not to the woman. She began to verbally create a new hole in the cashier’s backside to relieve her bowels - believing, I guess, that one hole wasn’t near suffice for the job – saying she shouldn’t be handling fruit with her unclean hands and thus and so and so and thus and on and on and whatever other continuing words you want to add.

NOW HERE’S THE THING THAT GET’S ME:

She turns to me and shakes her head as if because we’re both customers, we’re part of some tribe, some Us vs. Them Hatfields and McCoys battle that’s been raging so long there’s no reason, but just is.

Well, if this is true, I didn’t get the memo – but, to be fair, I’m always way behind on reading my In Box material, so it probably is there.

BUT even if it is there, I broke with the tribe, Us vs. Them, Hatfield vs. McCoy (haven’t decided which is Us and which is Them so feel free to do so on your own) battle that’s been raging for so long there’s no reason, but just is…

And I said to her…

Not only do many fruits have rinds you peel off (admittedly some just skins you eat), but hundreds and I’m talking possibly MANY hundreds of customers have touched, groped, probed, and all around felt up the fruit, and some, depending on their own sexual turn ons, then groped, probed, and all around felt up again the fruit you’re buying.

And now allow yourself to visualize where these customers have been. Everyone grocery shops here from the office executive to the cess pool worker.

What did the executive do today when he took that long lunch, that twenty minute bathroom break? And did he wash his hands afterward?

We know where the cess pool worker’s hands were. Did he wash?

Even me. From looking at me, would you think I have a rash somewhere unsavory? (One of my favorite words, 'unsavory', that and 'unseemly') I just might.

And so might many if not all others. Lot of unseen area in clothes where who-knows-what’s going on. I’ll wager the cleanest hands in this place are the cashier’s directly in front of you.

With a little snobby up-nose turn and a little Hmmm...like screw you, she was off.

Did I actually say all this? Of course not. Did I actually say any of it? Of course not again. Did I think. Absolutely...and the fall out?

I haven't bought a piece of fruit since...Of course, I haven't been shopping since either but point taken, I think.

For my nephew and neice

...on the night my neice, Kathryn was born...9-years younger than my nephew, Mel (If you think that's not been a problem over the years, YOU'RE WRONG)

Anyway...

hello Kathryn with the curious eyes
that make me think of summer skies
and reveal the love I have for you
in my deepest sighs

you’ve brought with you the days of spring
when flowers bloom and bluebirds sing
and sweet showered rainbows
color everything

and oh, I can’t believe
I swear you’re like a dream
that floated down the stream
from some fairy-tale
where the princess splits the night
with her diamond heart of light

hello Mel with your sleepy smile
planting sunsets along every mile
and thankfully bringing me
the hope I’ve needed all the while

the things you do and the things you say
make me love you in a special way
I can’t last ‘til tomorrow
to laugh with you today

and oh, to have you near
I can’t believe you’re truly here
and have been all these years
for it feels like yesterday
when I held you oh so tight
‘neath the endless pinhole nights

so hello Kathryn and hello Mel
my two wishes granted from the well
I can hardly wait to hear
the stories you’ll have to tell

and through the magic sands
I see you in a future land
fulfilling all your plans
forever holding hands

- my granted wishes -

A Little Something On Pets and Winning

YOU CAN’T. And you know what will happen if you try? YOU’LL LOSE.

They are the definition of relentless. They truly NEVER STOP.

My cat Lazy will Meow and Moan and Moan and Meow and climb on me and Meow and Moan some more until she gets what she wants.

The worst is when I put your foot down and say absolutely NOT. You WILL be eating the food I just put down. I will NOT be getting up at 4am just because you're up. I will NOT let you crawl on my lap when it interferes with work I have to do.

Know what she does: Meows!!!!

You can openly scream SHUT!!!!! UP!!!!!!!!

There’ll be a silence for a moment then a Meow and on it goes. I take that back. There is no silence. There’s no Meowing. There's laughter like:

Cute little human.

THEN more Meowing...until you’re beaten.

Until you’re opening a different can of food…or going to the store in the middle of a monsoon rainstorm if that’s the last can. Until you’re waking up at 4am because she’d rather you be on the couch because…

...If you’re looking for more after the ‘because’, there is none. There is NO REASON she wants me on the couch other than she does.

One time, she Meowed and Meowed and Meowed and I managed to ignore her, I did. She actually stopped, turned to walk away, even took a step in that direction. You have no idea just how proud I was. I BEAT her.

And then she paused, thought and…

TURNED RIGHT BACK AND STARTED IN AGAIN!!!!

She just would not be denied.

You can’t win.

If you have a pet – cat or dog, probably even fish – you DO NOT rule your house and you NEVER WILL. Say it pet owners:

I do not rule my house and I never will.

I wonder sometimes while she’s relentlessly Meowing and Moaning:

I can kill you. Doesn’t that count for something? I mean if I had an owner that could snap my neck like a twig I’d be a little less demanding, just a little, but no…

Simply put, I'm afraid of my cat.

Oh god, is that her collar bell? She's coming. If she catches me on the computer, I'll never hear the end of it.

If she asks, we never spoke.

Aah, memories...

This exchanged happened between a friend and me recently.

He came to me and says, ‘did you hear…’ I can’t remember exacty (see, already) what he said but it was about music so say John Lennon and George Harrison were alive and The Beatles were regrouping (my site, I get to pick the band).

I go ‘no way.’ He says ‘we’ll just have to wait and see if there’s anymore news.'

A week later, I run into him and have TOTALLY FOGOTTEN he’s the one who told me about The Beatles..... He’s also TOTALLY FORGOTTEN he’s the one who told me.

So, I go, The Beatles are regrouping and he goes: You know, I heard that too.

So, now we officially have a rumor. It’s been confirmed from two different sources so now there’s at least a possibility.

So we spend time, searching on the internet, listening to the radio. About a week later, we run into each other, our brains functioning again and at the same time go:

I told you about the Beatles.
You told me about the Beatles.

We felt such relief that we weren’t suffering a memort problem. It’s amazing how expanding the definition of a word can become when you need it to. To declare we don’t have a problem so pushes out the definition, thinning it so much it hardly exists…but we need it so problem does NOT mean creating a rumor due to memory loss.

Anyway, I'll tell you the worst thing about losing your memory...
(Now pretend I wrote it all over again, as if I'd forgotten I'd told you...and then pretend to laugh.)

Speak Of The Devil

I’ve always been fascinated with sayings like:

it’s raining like cats and dogs…derives from olden (or older) times when sewage wasn’t great and drown cats and dogs would float down the streets in rainstorms.

And the phrase ‘Speak of the Devil and he appears’ when you’re speaking of say Jim or Sally or (place name here of person you know) and they appear.

What if you actually WERE speaking of the Devil. That would mean it wouldn’t be Jim or Sally or (place name here of person you know) but actually THE DEVIL that would appear.

I wouldn’t like that…especially because if I were speaking of the Devil it wouldn’t be favorably while wearing a black t-shirt with masking tape torn into pieces that create the words: Lucifer Rocks!!!

My mention of his name would be followed by some strongly worded statement not open to interpretation like:

The Devil, not a fan.

And then along he comes just because I spoke of him.

If it ever does happen, I’m hoping he may be in one of those ‘taking being the whole Devil thing out for a ride in a just-for-kicks manner, like making someone fumble at the 5 yard line, making someone fall down in a pile of mud, or, in my case, just respond to my ‘not a fan’ with a point-taken but whimsical ‘Says you.’

Then again, he may just lie me down on a huge piece of rolling paper and smoke me.

He’s the Devil, he can do that…

Oh jeez, speak of the Devil…

Friendship Extinct?

Just a question I’ll send out into the ether.

There are seemingly self-help groups for EVERYTHING. I saw one recently for ‘Brides To Be’.

MAKE NO MISTAKE, I am NOT criticizing people for going to such things. I don’t care if tying your shoes stresses you out and you need to reach out for help.

My question is this:

Didn’t the people you used to confide in to help you through difficult times be your FRIENDS?

I mean, if these brides-to-be have no one they can go to to vent, ask for a shoulder to cry on, whatever, say, the made-of-honor, the brides-maids, then THEY ARE NOT THEIR FRIENDS!!!

Whatever happened to friendship?

Anyone?

My Cat

I’m still here doing my ‘ass out of you and me’ thing and assume someone’s still reading.

First things first, I must do the follow up to my (Ba-Dum-Dum, rim-shot) dumb joke about bestiality.

My cat and I are in counseling. She wants to know why she’s always the one that initiates the pet. When I ask when, apparently I’m supposed to decipher her lying on the rug belly up is so obvious she’s all but telling me. I say, then just tell me. She’s scoffs, crosses her arms (legs? No idea) in huff and barks out, MEN, as if this answers all. What? I mean, seriously, WHAT?

Apparently, the 'men just don't get it' thing has crosses species.

Okay, so really dumb allusions to bestiality out of my system, I do have a cat.

I found her (for now on, I’ll call her Lazy since that’s what I named her – certain logic there, pretzeled though it may be - no, it's logical) slumping along a tree-lined back road, NO CLAWS. How the hell did she get here? I’m thinking. Now, after all these years, it’s occurred to me exactly how. A car door opens, a cat is dropped off…while the car is still moving. Trust me, I more than understand.

I live in a town a short ways outside Boston called Framingham. (Bob Seger rhymed a word with Framingham in a song. Talk about running out of words ending in ‘am’. People that live here, instead of a ‘hey, people are hearing our town’s name on the radio’ did a collective, WHY?)

Nothing for nothing but it’s round these parts that I found this cat I took in and named Lazy – I'd had cats as a kid and I always remembered them being so full of life, chasing balls and all that, I thought it would be cleverly ironic (okay, well maybe not cleverly), but ironic like rain on your wedding day, a free ride when you’re already late. (Sorry, couldn’t help myself. I'm sure Alanis Morrisette appeciates the shout out to her song).

Anyway,

I thought for sure Lazy would be a counterpunch to her vivacious (that’s definitely not the right word for a cat) so…lively, tire me out, personality. She tires me out, but not by physical means. She doesn’t move. Okay, once when she was lying down, she stood up, moved a foot and keeled over.

Do you know how embarrassing it is when the vet asks if she gets any exercise and you can’t even spin it. Well…I mean…you see…(then finally, shoulders slumping) no. Wait! The other day, she moved a foot.

So, my name for her Lazy, is now appropriate. Her name for me? I’m not that well versed in ‘cat, but if I’m interpreting her ‘meows’ correctly it appears to be, ‘Hey, Asshole…’…which I’m sure she feels is appropriate.

The other two things I think - again if I'm interpreting correctly - are:

1.'Unacceptable'

2. '...and another thing.'

By the way, do you have any idea what a knock it is to a person’s self-esteem to have a cat start licking exactly where you pet her the very nanosecond you stopped?

It was a rhetorical question, Self…Don’t worry. Me and I will teach you.

I guess I have to go. Me and I have a day of lessons with my Self.

I Was 'Tabled'

I was ‘tabled’

Anyone else out there been tabled, or am I the only unlucky one.

I made a suggestion today TO A FRIEND and he said: Let’s table that for now…and then went on to suggest something else.

So, in theory my suggestion's still out there for possible use but ‘for now’ it’s not going to be.

This has to be the most amazing form of political maneuvering I’ve personally been involved in.

I can't even begin to imagine how high the stack of suggestions and ideas are on that table...and just how deeply buried mine is in that stack.

And ‘for now?’ What is this crap? Can that be any more vague? Just like some days, for now’s never come.

So, the vote for my suggestion was NO. One word, two letters. But apparently, once in the politics of the business world where supposed self-assured peoples’ feelings can be crushed by the rejection by the simple one syllable reply, a person's always in that world.

Amazing.

Then again, maybe my being ‘tabled’ has to do with the many years friends have made suggestions to me and I’ve replied with certainty that it would happen:

Definitely…and then just walk away…while some people would say we were in mid-conversation...okay, most people...okay everyone.

I still claim the reason is he's been taken over by the politics of the corporate world.

Meanwhile, my suggestion sits 'tabled for now.'

I'll let you know if it's ever untabled.

On The Exercise Wagon

And my Self returned...on his knees, groveling returned. Just like I knew...Me too. Tell you the truth, we're glad to have him back. Me, my Self, and I is much better than Me and I.

Anyway,

I’ve been on the exercise wagon since last post now. God has it been that long already? No, I hurt my back and was out of the body business. What’s that? There are plenty of other exercises to do. Yeah, well, there is a bit of tru—Shut up.

So, I gained back a lot of weight I lost. What’s that? How’d I gain the weight to begin with? Well, there — Hey, wait a minute take off the hood. I knew it. You’re the same person who spoke up earlier. I thought I recognized the voice. Oh, god, not the psychiatrist from last post. SHUT UP!

So--Are you going to interrupt? No? Thank you.

Continuing on…after some physical therapy, I found this amazing store called Good Feet (free advert there - think it's just local though) that fit my feet with the right supports. Apparently, I tend to walk with an instep, which screwed with my arch support, my hips, my back – you know, the ole leg bone’s connected the hip bone, etc. song? It’s true. Unless of course a part of your body’s missing, then it wouldn't be true. So, okay, it’d mostly true. Everybody happy again?

So, I’ve not only been able to walk – my favorite exercise, clears the head, you get to say ‘hi’ to a lot of people you pass…who refuse to acknowledge you exist, it’s great – but I’ve been walking. I’m at 7 miles a day now.

BUT, and it’s a BIG BUT – which only makes sense, since according to the song, we all like big butts (did you see the play one words there – but, butt? That was improvisation. I completely made that up…and nothing. – That ‘improv’ thing is actually courtesy of Mr. Martin Short as the albino Vegas showman, Jackie Rogers, Jr. from SNL. Haven’t checked, but hopefully it’s on YouTube).

So, drum roll for the BIG BUT.

I go to the mall to play the good American and consume, making sure that percentage-wise, most of what I buy I do not need and never will look at let alone use.

So, I park. Fine. I get out of the car, walk toward the mall, pass the car in the spot one closer and notice the parking spot ONE closer than that is EMPTY. And get a bit pissed at myself as I could have parked there if I just hadn’t settled, if I just drove ahead a little further.

In simple terms, I was a bit pissed because I could have saved myself all of EIGHTEEN FEET of walking.

The odds of me staying on the exercise wagon? Vegas isn’t bothering.

1st Post - How In The Heck To Begin A Blog

How in the hell do you begin a blog?

I mean, it’s got to make people want to read on, right? Hello? Are you still reading on? I’ll make an ass out of you and me and assume you are. So, here I was with this seemingly inconsequential yet totally consequential question plaguing me, haunting me…and many other ominous ‘ing’ words.

(Note To Self: For the love of everything writerly, buy a THESAURUS. I mean really! How many times have I reminded you now? Were you just about to answer that?!! Have you not heard of a rhetorical question? Were you about to answer that, too?!! My god, man have an ounce of pride, will ya? Just…Shhh. You’ve not done enough already. We’ll talk later.)

Apologies for my Self and his ill-mannered lack of professionalism. Anyway, to the one person I’m assuming is still reading on, I’m hoping you get even a vague idea of the picture because you honestly do not want to get me started on metaphors to make you fathom the nerve-shattering quandary I was in.

I decided to do the only thing I was ever good at and procrastinate. Then my Self spoke up and got on MY case. I had actually procrastinated even more than my Self. Everything is now officially possible.

So, I thought and thought and then thought some more, and then thought again for good measure…and came to the conclusion I should be thinking and thinking and thinking some more, and then thinking again for better measure about what I was actually meant to be thinking about instead of sincerely inconsequential things like:

[If yellow were renamed blue, would we think differently about the sky?

If Wednesday were moved next to Monday, would Thursday miss it? ]

And so I did think of what I should be thinking about. And at the end, I was at the beginning again, back in the same old place again:

How in the hell do you begin a blog?

And finally, Eureka, it struck me like – I really need a thesaurus. I’m nauseous as I write this it’s so obvious, but…it struck me like lightening. Give me a moment to settle my stomach.

I’m back.

Okay, okay, so it was two moments, cut me some slack, Jack (quick toss to the 70’s there): see how I’m acting as if you, the one I’m assuming is still reading on, and I are having a conversation. Yes, well, a sign of insanity or not, you and your amateur analysis are…One of the foremost psychiatrists in the world, you say. What’s that? THE foremost…In the HISTORY of the world…and voted Most Humble Man Alive three years straight.

You voted for yourself, didn’t you? I knew it…Humble is as humble does.

Well, Mr. Humble, Foremost Psychiatrist In The History Of The World, ready your talons to claw into my ‘how the hell do you begin a blog’ decision:

WITH A REALLY DUMB, BA-DUM-DUM, RIMSHOT JOKE INFERRING BESTIALITY…NATURALLY.

(Is it ‘infer’ or 'imply'? I get confused over infer and imply sometimes)

So without further ado:

I own a cat. We’re still at the petting stage.
Thank you. I’ll be at The Giggle Hut all week. Two shows on Saturday.

And I just lost the one person I assumed was reading on…and my Self just threw in the towel.

Guess for now on, I’m writing for me and I as my Self, like Elvis, has left the building (without picking up the towel he threw in first – immature jerk).

He’ll be back. How far’s he going to make it without me and I?

Til next time.

What Won't Be Found Here

Politics

Religion

Reality TV Gossip

Celebrity Gossip

Lots of other places to find those...

And, with that, it begins...