Catchy Holiday Title goes Here

   I remember as a kid... I didn't really care much for Thanksgiving. I think it was because of the fact that I had to get up early the next day, go shopping with my mom and her sister, and then we had to fly home before noon, she had to wrap presents and hide them... but no, even before that nightmare. On Thanksgiving Day, the house was always way too hot. Too many people, it made the dogs uncomfortable, it made me uncomfortable, it was just an awkward day for me every year.
   I think it was probably in my mid 20s that I really starting not hating Thanksgiving Day. It was then that I discovered football on a higher level, and I also discovered really amazing home cooked food for the first time in my life. (Thank you, Richard.)
   I remember one particular stretch as a kid where I got violently ill on Thanksgiving Day three consecutive years. Like... projectile vomit city... really bad. Made the whole house stink. Seriously.
   This year will be a good one. I hope all 4 or 5 of those that see this will have a great Thanksgiving. Don't hate the holiday... I did enough of that for all of us.

The Tower Talk

   She made her way through the small crowd and somehow ended up next to me that day in the lunch line, and when I turned and saw her small disfigured face, I smiled as she said "Hey! Want to find a place to eat with me?"

   At 4' 10" she was small by anyone's standard. But she had a smile and an energy about her that was so much bigger than her short stature should be able to contain. She was the type of person that would surprise you long after you thought you knew her. 

   We grabbed our military meal and walked down the red dirt road that Schofield Barracks' east range was famous for. We found a small retaining wall made of wooden planks that was just tall enough for us to sit on, and just far enough away from everyone else that we could have some privacy. 

   Even as we sat down with our wobbly paper plates and our now near cold meal on them, I wasn't quite sure why she picked me to speak with that day. We weren't good friends. We didn't speak one on one at all, really, usually only in a group setting by default because of common friends/co-workers. When we did talk though, I loved her smile. Even before the incident. (I refuse to call it an accident.) I loved to see her laugh... it was genuine... right down to the core of her soul, she laughed. Her body swayed, her arms moved... and I enjoyed making her laugh like that too. 

  On the Saturday, 10 days earlier, she was with her husband and another couple at their home on the north shore. They were all enjoying some drink and some smoke for most of that day, and something happened later that evening that prompted her husband to grab a chair and swing it at her. It took most of her nose off. Gone.

  We made small talk as we walked down the road to this secluded place, which happens to be near the repel tower at the 25th Infantry Division's Air Assault school. I don't remember what we did talk about, but I know it wasn't anything to do with that night. 

  When she felt ready, she told me the details of that night, and what led up to it. She told me about how she had always feared he could get violent one day, especially when he was high. She told me she felt like they had already smoked enough that day. She told her husband they should save the rest for later. But he and his buddies were in no mood to listen to the short little wife enlisted woman who worked in the S2 on post. She was just trying to put an end to their fun. 

  It was the first time her husband ever got violent with her. He had never hit her prior to that day. That may be why he couldn't find it in his heart to use his fists. He had never done it before. But the small desk chair was available, and the damage it caused was permanent. 

  I remember her telling me her friends wouldn't let her look at it. She didn't see it for herself until she was at the emergency room and she told those with her that she had to go to the bathroom. I can still remember the look of terror on her beautiful face as she described the first time she saw her disfigurement. 

  She needed someone to open up to that day. Not sure why... but I was there. 

  We never talked like that again after that day either. We talked, but never one on one again, like that day. We had a deep respect and care for each other, but from afar. We exchanged smiles from a distance during morning formations regularly. We met in larger groups and talked regularly, but nothing like that day under the repel tower that was affectionately known as "The Green Monster". 

  I hope she still knows how to laugh. 

  

Attention all student jocks and stuff...

  Even if you don't play yourself... if you know someone. Read this and let them know BEFORE tryouts...

  Coaches don't know you. They didn't see you play that great game two years ago and score the winning goal...

  Even if they did... they don't care.

  They've never seen you play before. And if they have, you should treat your tryouts like they never have.

  It's a tryout. And the coaches, if they are worth a damn, should be looking for a few things that not everyone trying out thinks about.

  Your ability to listen, your willingness to learn and try new things, and your ability to encourage your teammates.

  I don't care if you're trying out for soccer, volleyball, football, basketball, softball, track, or any other sport, try out and remember that no matter how talented you are, there's someone out there who is working harder, training better, and has more raw talent than you do. And if your dad is coach and you don't believe any of this... then shame on him for not telling you all this already.

  So if you're trying out for a sport any time in the near future, don't do it half-ass and then get upset that you didn't make the team. I hate seeing people with real talent go through the motions of tryouts, and then get upset at the coaching staff because they didn't get picked. It's your chance and you blew it. No one else's fault.

Procrastination

It's not just a bad habit, it's a way of life. I'll tell you more about it tomorrow.

Popcorn with Sugar please

Would you rather watch a great film about 3 friends on a road trip, encountering some mishaps along the way, but they survive, learn a few things along the way, don't get in any real trouble with the law, and grow closer as a result of the trip... or would you rather watch a movie about space ships and how aliens came to earth and we conquered them with a special blend of vegetable oil that was recently discontinued because it made people grow uni-brows? (Okay, that one is kinda funny, I must admit.)

 Did someone send Hollywood  a memo about 20-25 years ago, that said something to the effect that people lowered there standards and are now far too easily entertained?

    Was it the transformation of special effects into something that looked so believable, that made movie makers think it was okay for the movie's story line to be non-believable?

    Was it a change in technology with modern camera and/or editing equipment that made directors and those in charge just sit back and say "No, that's okay, we can fix that later" and then they never do. 

    Oh wait... I remember now... I know what the problem is. 

    I'm a movie snob! That's right, I almost forgot, but it just hit me. 

    I'd rather sit back and watch something that could really happen, than waste 4 hours of my life watching a group of CG small people and their half-alien friend run around through a forest where the trees are alive looking for a $99.00 piece of jewelry from a pawn shop. 

    I'd rather watch a story of how a group of friends take an overnight trip to see a dead body in the woods and make discoveries about themselves and each other in the process, than watch aliens coming to earth and their entire species is wiped out by a group of kids from the local 4H club who just happen to know where ole man McGillicutty's weapon stash is kept. 

   I'd rather watch a great film about a memorable event than waste my time watching someone's creation of a scene that will never remotely happen in our lifetime. 

   My name is JM and I'm a movie snob. There, I said it. 

Sign, Sign, Everywhere a Sign

   Have you ever driven down the street and saw a sign of some type that made you stop and do a double-take? I'm almost certain you have, and if you've ever driven down my street, you might have even stopped and taken a picture of it, like many do on a semi-regular basis. I see it all the time, since the one across the street from me is one of the first ones people come to when they drive through town. We're on the way t the mountain, and some take this opportunity for a photo session.
   I've seen people posing as prostitutes next to it, posing as a hitch hiker next to it, and even two or more people posing like dogs in the act. (Seriously, could I make that up?)
  So what does this sign say, you ask, that prompts these actions?

Getting kicked in front of Molly

   Have you ever caught yourself wondering what you did wrong to deserve the treatment you're getting on a daily basis? I mean, I do the right thing for the most part, I don't lie, I don't cheat, I don't steal... I help people out when I can, and I try even if I can't. I'm not a saint, don't get me wrong... but on the grand scheme of things, I'm an okay dude.
   But sometimes I feel like karma is wearing boots and just sits around waiting to kick me in the sac the instant I'm not expecting it! Lately, I feel like I could look back of the last 16 months or so, and I can zoom out a bit, looking in at myself from afar... and what do I see? I see the universe sitting on a couch with his buddies... they're all eating chips, drinking beer, wearing wife-beaters, some Molly Ringwald movie is playing in the background too loudly, and the main focus in the room is Uni and his buds are messing up my life like I'm a Ken doll in bad clothing, sitting on the coffee table that Uni's little sister left sitting there the night before.
   So does this whole life thing have a checks and balances system... I mean, I'm paying the price now, right? So, does the universe eventually look back at all this mistreatment and say "Yeah, we really owe this one. Maybe we should actually give him the Powerball numbers this week."
   What if there is no system of keeping everything fair and even? I mean, there is, right? I would like to think there is. I wrote a couple weeks ago about the lucky sperm club members, and I think they have a slight advantage, but I think the non-club members still get some compensation in other ways.
   Maybe not... maybe this is it. Maybe this post, right here, right now, is the pinnacle of my being.
Doubtful... I still haven't gotten a single comment on any of this crap... not sure why anyone other than myself would read it now... although you're all missing out... this is funny shit! Are you kidding me? Did you read my post about Halloween? That was funny!
   Oh well... have a good day everyone, and don't let the universe leave you out on the coffee table.

Music before Motoring

Sometimes the strangest things will get me revved up. It is, however, quite often something musically related, and today's discovery is just that. This time it's a new band that is not only amazing, creative, original, talented, and has a great stage presence, but they've accomplished all of this before they are even old enough to get their driver's licenses.
The name of the band is Unlocking the Truth. They are middle school students from Brooklyn, and don't look like anything other than your typical, awkward middle school nerdy boys. Until they unleash their heavy metal rock and roll on you! They're level headed, are passionate about their music, and they know how to perform in front of a live audience. But if you saw anyone of them off stage you'd never know they were a metal music performer. They obviously have some great parent mentoring to help them get to where they are now, but I haven't seen a lot about who that may be yet. While watching one of their videos, I did hear a gentleman in the background say "That's my son, and those two are my nephews" so I'm assuming they are all cousins. But relations aside, they know how to play and they just made a new fan today.
But the real gem in this group is Malcolm Brickhouse, the lead guitarist. Watching him play is like receiving a gift from the universe... he's special. He doesn't play guitar, but his guitar is an extension of him, and listening to the music he creates is like watching the dreams of his soul fly out of his chest in the form of chords and riffs. I hope the music industry treats these kids well, and I would enjoy seeing big things for these kids. It's already in them... you can see it.

Bad Decisions in a Cereal Town

   I loath stupidity and ignorance. Not so much like when some dumb ass drives his car recklessly and hits a pole and inures himself... if he has passengers in the car, I loath his actions more. But do you know what I really hate?
   I absolutely get infuriated when a group of individuals who are appointed and in charge of others' actions make decisions that are so poor and ridiculous, that you can do nothing but shake your head and do your best to try not to slap them. Just such a thing happened this past Monday in Battle Creek, Michigan at Lakeview Middle School.
   A sixth grader there passed away over the weekend from leukemia and her fellow students did the most amazing thing they could do. They came together as a student community and rallied in her honor... supporting one another and being their for one another. They showed up to school on Monday wearing orange and blue shirts. Blue, her favorite color, and orange for leukemia awareness. The shirts, many made by the students themselves, said things like "We love you Caitlyn" or just the girl's name with a heart.
  They were grieving. They were hurting. They were pulling together to be there for each other. For a very large number of them, they were likely going through the first real loss of a friend they've ever experienced. It's not an easy time.
   Now let's talk about the Ass Clowns in this story! The people in charge at the school district there in Battle Creek... WOW! What idiots! They told the students they couldn't wear the shirts to honor their fellow student because it violated a policy about student memorials.
   Excuse me... what did you say?
   Can you imagine how Caitlyn's mother felt, when she found out that students were told they had to take their shirts off or turn them  inside out? Can you imagine how the kids felt... how some of her best friends felt?
   I don't even understand how such a policy could have ever been put in place to begin with. It makes no sense to me at all.
   The school ultimately apologized, and said the kids could wear the shirts on Tuesday. But I'd like to direct the following to the aforementioned Ass Clowns of Lakeview Middle School administrators...
   You failed. You failed miserably and you should be embarrassed. Your apologies are too late, your words have no weight, and you should all find a new career in auto parts delivery business or something. Maybe go to Subway and be a sandwich artist. You have no business making decisions that have an impact on children. You have no business making decision at all.
   Kellogg's in town... maybe you can get a job there making sure the froot loops are properly packaged.

Peeing in the Gene Pool

   I spent years telling people that there weren't as many crooks out there as what the media portrayed in the world of auto repair businesses. And I still believe it to this day. But in hindsight, maybe I should have been looking from a third party point of view to see more than I did with my inside-info-eyes.
   I was naive for so many years. I thought I knew more than my peers. For many of those peers, I did, and they respected me for the way I used that knowledge as a leader among them. They also respected the knowledge I possessed that I didn't always share. The younger ones always knew that my word was most likely to help them.
  But now I look at it all as I'm now completely on the outside and I see things so differently. I was naive enough to think that standing up and taking initiative as a leader in the shop was going to get me an office with a view one day. But as it turns out, my fate was determined long ago. The day I was conceived to be exact.
  I wasn't a member of the Lucky Sperm Club... and because of that, there is always someone who is in that club that is closer to the front of the line for that office with a view. The part that pisses me off more than anything though is the fact that I nurtured so many of them and taught them how to do that job. I made so many look like heroes to their uncles, their cousins, their brothers, their whoever... I was the one that was responsible for their success. I should have seen it all too, they were always calling me to come back. I'm probably the only person most of you know that has been at a job, quit, and then went back again at FOUR different places. I must say though... the most recent one was actually a very good manager once he put his head into it. But most of the others... they are still worthless.
  Makes me wonder if I'll escape it in any business, or if I just need to go swimming in a new gene pool.

Bird brains

I've never looked at birds in the wild and given thought as to what may be going through their minds. Until today.
For some reason, we have a high number of hummingbirds in the area at this time of the year and in particular, in our backyard this morning. As I sit here, watching them through the sliding glass door flutter around under our 12 X 12 canopy away from the slow drizzle of Oregon's rainy season, I noticed that they have an unusually high sense of security here. Even though they see me through the glass just a few feet away, they seem to feel safe here. Like a child in his or her treehouse, or dog laying on the comfy couch, they seem to find solace here.
And now I think to myself... how I must look to them? Do I appear comfortable and safe? Do I look tired or relaxed? Do I give the perception of being a member of the top of the food chain?

Drugstore Chins and the Bad Hair Day

 D and I go way back... to when we were both turning wrenches for way too little money. Even though we didn't work with each other as techs, we met that way.
 Something in us clicked that day in 2001, just weeks before the 9/11 attacks... and we kept in touch even after he left.
  Yesterday was the first time I've seen you in over four years, and I saw that glimpse of what you used to be like. I shouldn't have, really. You've gained weight, and not in the right places. Your hair looks like a bad Sopranos prop... your chins are easy to loose track of... you walk like you're carrying a child in your clothing...
but you made sure to tell me that I gained weight. 15 lbs to be exact.
 You also made sure to tell me that the stories that were going around about you weren't true. Of course they weren't.... they never are. The cops didn't arrest you in your office... you turned yourself in. It was the first time you forged the Rx... of course it was. DEA wasn't involved.. three newspapers were all wrong with the exact same untruths.
  Everyone else there saw us talking... and talked about it. Of course they did. I'm the former employee, you're the new boss and we're talking outside your office for three hours. What did you think?
  Your stories are legit D.
  I'm sorry about what happened.
  No, I'm not coming back. I'm done.
  Not working on your side projects with you and your brother either. And J doesn't want to get involved with you two. I asked him already.
  You'll do fine there. Until the big guy gets tired of you. And then you'll find another past life to tug on for awhile.
  Good luck.
 

Be first to comment on the Leprechaun Post!

The strangest comments or remarks can lead to some fairly odd ideas rolling in my head. I can hear someone mention a new television show and within minutes I can be thinking about the most popular career choices of those who just never made it in show business. What happened... where did they go? What do they do now, and do they tell people that they were in a pilot or two, but the show flopped, or do they just pretend they were in Seattle all that time visiting cousins? Are they working at 7-11 like everyone thinks, or did they go on to be successful wine makers in California? Are they back at their old high school jobs pushing a broom at their dad's convenient store or are they chief engineer on a cruise ship in the Mediterranean?

A new friend of mine whom I recently met online told me that if she ever makes it to Ireland she'll bring me back a leprechaun. I thought to myself all the possibilities of what my new leprechaun could do for me.

 He could do the dishes... after I built him a step stool of course...

 He could do laundry and sweep... another step stool in the laundry room I think... 

 He could mow the lawn... 

Wait... I'm not thinking big enough. 

I live in Oregon, and it rains plenty here. Sometimes we even get rainbows. And I bet HE will be able to find that pot of gold that is supposed to be there!

He could also keep all those pesky garden gnomes away!

At Halloween time... I could make a little troll costume. Or, maybe... a little zombie leprechaun! That's it!

I could sublet him out to the malls at Christmas to be a Santa's helper... 

I know... bad post... but what the heck... no one is really reading this anyway except me. 

If you've made it this far, do you realize you could be one of the first, if not, THE first to leave a comment here in my blog? I used to have a very successful blog years ago... had lots of followers. Lots of friends I made there. Life changed, I needed to let those friends move on to other blogs, vlogs, youtube, vines, and fail compilations. Now I need to start fresh with a new batch of readers. 

Are you one of them?

 

Movies before Microwaves

  I've always been a bit of a nostalgic type. I was probably 6 years old when I first started my antique beer can collection. Around that same time I also started collecting car brochures too. I wish I would have put more of an effort into that one, but hindsight is always 20/20, right? 

  I've somehow found a strange pleasure in using this nostalgic side of my psyche to educate my g/f's daughter on anything that has to do with the way things were. Everything from music and movies to phones, phonographs, and photo booths. Since her and her friends are all big music fans I gave them a quick lesson recently on the history of the east coast/west coast hip hop scene and the rivalry that resulted from it. I explained to her that the rivalry is what created some of the best music of the last twenty years. It made all the artist dig deep and push the limits of their creativity. 

  Another interest that the two of us have in common is scary movies. So, today I'm sitting on the couch watching Mia Farrow in Rosemary's Baby. It definitely has some awkward scenes, when watching with a teenage girl, but fortunately the fact that cinematography has changed so much along with special effects (The "blood" when the neighbor's live-in girl falls from the window looks exactly like red paint) that there are plenty of things to laugh at to lighten the semi-graphic nudity. 

  One thing that I noticed while watching this movie though was the pace. Maybe not as noticeable when viewed as a movie from the 1960's but if you compare it to something more current, like any of the Paranormal Activity movies, you'll realize that it was written and produced before we turned into a society of people sitting in front of a laptop, saying "C'mon already" because the page is taking 4-6 seconds to load. 

   I remember once long ago, probably in the early 1990's, I heard a stand-up comedian say that we had turned in to society who had grown accustomed to standing in front of a microwave, tapping our foot and saying "Hurry up already!" He was right, and I have a feeling it will only get worse. I routinely hear computer and cell phone manufacturers in their advertisements making claims that their products are 3X faster than their competitors. Now, that would be impressive to me if the competitors product took... three days to find a website. But when brand X takes .8 seconds to load a page and the new, more expensive product is three times faster... I'm not buying into the hype. Does that sound like a difference that will make you want to spend a few hundred dollars more on a product? Let me ask you this... wouldn't it be easier and cheaper to just learn how to type the url that much quicker? 

   Okay.. enough of my rant... I'm going to go now since I need to brush my teeth after watching Rosemary eat a piece of raw chicken liver. Yummmy...

It's November now... and so far, so good.

   Most people think of this as being the day after Halloween, or All Saints day if you're Catholic. Some may think of it as the day to take down all the Halloween decorations (I'm not in that category, thank you very much... ) and some just think of it as the beginning of a new month.
   I think of this as being "that day" which makes me take a deep breath, take a look around, and tell myself that it's all in the past. On this day in 2008, wife #2 moved out of the house. A few days later I discovered the several thousands in debt she left me behind with on top of the several thousands I already knew about. Seven days after that, I was laid off from my job.
   Fast forward to Aug. 2009... I got a job, started myself back in school, and on Nov 1, 2009, I
was again laid off along with two other technicians. The financial crisis was still in full swing and the dealership I worked at thought it would be a good idea to thin the masses before the winter slow period set in.
  This second layoff had more financial ramifications however. I had somehow recovered quite well from the first round, but the second time the State of Oregon decided that in those 88 days of employment, I had worked just long enough and made just enough money that my unemployment insurance benefits had reset. So during round two, I was entitled to less than $100 week. I was scared. I had no idea what to do or how to fix it. And even though it only lasted about 9 weeks before I was called back by the same employer, the financial damage had been done. I still remember, however, the effects of the fear of the uncertainty of what was going to happen to me and my house and how I was going to come out of it on the other side.
   The second layoff was indirectly the cause of "November Mayhem Part 3". In Feb. 2010 I applied for another loan modification, since I had gone back to work. However the bank somehow thought that I made too much money to get another loan modification. I didn't make enough though, to repay all the bills for the two months when I only made $87/week. So, the house went into foreclosure, I put it on the market in a short sale status, and on Nov. 1 2010... I moved out of my house of 12 years. I loaded the last of my belongings into my little crappy 1989 Tercel coupe, and I took it all to my new little crappy apartment. It was a very sad day for me... and I remember it all too well. It was cold, it was raining, and the sun never showed itself the entire day. The car was completely blanketed with yellow leaves and dirty cold rain.
  The apartment never felt like home. It was always more like a place to store my stuff until I found my way again. I didn't unpack any boxes for the six months I was there. My cat didn't even like it. And he liked everything.
   On May 1 the following year, my g/f and I moved into the house we're in now. It's our home. And although it's a rental and it has it's flaws, it's ours. And I still think about Nov. 1st in a different light than anyone else would ever know.