Moving time is upon us...

Being that I quit counting the amount of times that I have moved in my life after the 30th time, I'm not sure what number this is. This picture is from my move to Vegas... and although I'm only moving 3 miles away this time, it might as well be the 50th time I have moved and all the way across the country... I'm way too old for this crap. I'm worn out. This will be the last time I move in a very long time. (By the way, the towels on the mirrors were used on the seats... and since I wouldn't use the air conditioning, it was probably 100 degrees inside the cab of the truck and our backs were soaked. Not fun.)

Kris Allen... All I have to say is YUM! My new reason to watch American Idol! From the scruffy face, to the puppy-dog eyes to the facial expressions... YUM!

Let the good times roll (not)

In 1972, my parents bought this car and traded in our 1965 Buick Wildcat. My dad was always a Buick man. Ours looked like these, but not only did we not have the sunroof, there wasn't any air conditioning either and vinyl seats, which made our yearly trek to Myrtle Beach less than fun... much less, actually. With the four of us in the car, it sounds like a dream vacation... but realize that my selfish (and larger at the time) brother used to make me lay on the floor. In those days, you had a much more pronounced transmission bump on the floor and, as you can imagine, being closer to moving parts and the heat of the ground, it was about 45 degrees warmer down there. I was not the only one that was displaced, however. Our dog, Lucky (not really, I guess, in hindsight), was put into the back window ledge the whole trip. Nothing like being a very hairy West Highland White Terrier baking in the July heat underneath the slight magnification of the glass window. Add to it that, being pelted by the air from the open windows on both sides, we had dog hair flying everywhere, including in our mouths. With only two doors instead of four, it made for getting in and out a real chore. Not to mention that the gate keeper (my Mom) was our only chance of escape from the hell... but only when she got out. With the vinyl seat, your legs would sweat and then drip down the seat. Add that to the dog's slobber and I suppose I should feel lucky that we had the model with the swimming pool in it. I would like to also note that, on many occasions, the close proximity of the front seat to the rear seat proved to be a disadvantage for us in the contact of the back of my Mom's hand and our heads. I swear that she had a honing device in her wedding ring that was like GPS because, without even turning around, she was dead-on-balls accurate every time to her target. I remember singing "These boots are made for walking" by the fabulous Miss Nancy Sinatra... only I was singing it with a one second delay... I guess with the heat and sticking to the vinyl seat and the hair flying, my Mother was not having it... to this day, if you look at the left side of my face you can still see the imprint of her 1/2 carat diamond ring... it really was such a beautiful setting. In 1978, by parents bought a Buick Estate Wagon. It was black on the outside and red leatherette interior and we aptly dubbed it, 'The Hearse". We only drove this car to the beach once a year and weddings. And although it did have air conditioning and the new-fangled cassette deck, you would have thought the extra room would have provided me with more space to sprawl out. On the contrary, with the seat fully extended down and with what seemed to be a small soccer field in size, this only gave my brother more room for himself, and I was forced to face front and wedge my legs in between the top of the seat and the back of my parents seats, which was only about 4 inches, putting me in closer proximity to my Mother and having less room than when I had to sleep on the hump of the floor. Payback is a bitch though... how's your jail cell now, Dan? I hope someone named Bubba is making you sleep on the floor.

"I WILL miss these things" (sort of) series...

The old elementary school on the hill has been abandoned for some time, but it's really cool and eerie. There's also a great church in the neighborhood that on Sunday, over the sounds of the domestic violence noise, clanging of homeless rooting through the garbage and miscellaneous gunshot, plays a beautious tune. Almost makes you want to go to church and pray for your safety...

"I WILL Miss These Things" (sort of) series...

It was kind of nice to see the snow dance above the Section 8 housing... and when the sun was shining down on the higher elevation houses.... never down here in the hole though... always a cloud of doom and gloom overhead... better to not have the sun highlight the mess, I guess.

In the "Things I Won't Miss" series...

First, I won't miss that I would have had to replace the shingles on my garage that blew off during the wind storm a few weeks ago.

Next, the dark-bricked house to the left that looks like the Ronald McDonald house is owned by an Italian family that, by far, are the most miserable group of people I have ever come across. By their nasty moods and constant screaming at each other, it is quite apparent that they can't stand each other or anyone in the neighborhood. If I ever park my car in front of my garage (if I'm running in and out quickly) and they are trying to get out, there's plenty of room for them to back out to the left and go down the alley to the right. Instead, they will just lay on the horn until I come out and move it. And then two days later, they will pull their grape purple Cobalt out into the alley and proceed to clean it for hours on end with no regard for anyone, blocking the alley totally. At least they are meticulous in how they keep their yard.

The neighbors directly behind me are really good friends of mine, however, they have a Doberman Pincher that, when they go out, they leave in the back yard and the poor thing has such separation anxiety that all it does is bark constantly for hours until they get back. Even with my bedroom in the front of my house, I can still hear it to the point that I just want to first choke the dog, then them. When I tell them, they say that he's not barking when they get home. Duh? They also have two vehicles that have very loud exhaust systems that I can hear a minimum of 3 blocks away. When I tell them, in a kidding way, that I can hear them coming (moreso trying to tell them that it's trashy), they laugh. I think they are in competion with the racing truck next door. Very funny how I can tell the difference between the cars coming through the neighborhood.

ARRRGGGGHHHH!!

What is this crap on the ground? I thought we were over this.

In the "Things I Won't Miss" series...

I've been splurging with the heat, as you can see. It's normally set at 45 degrees, but because I have to get myself motivated to get out from under my five blankets (one being a heated blanket) to pack, you'd be surprised how inspirational one degree can be. Now that I don't have a refrigerator (since I sold it), Matt asked how I'm going to get by without one for two weeks... I do have one... it's called the 'countertop' model. It's colder in my house than in my fridge any way.


I'm looking forward to the new place with my Dad. He's used to 70+ degrees in his house. He's in for a rude awakening. I'll split the difference with him and keep it at 60ish... Unless he wants to put the gas in his name and splurge. My highest gas bill, set at 45 degrees, was $145.00. In the new place, it won't be that much set at a normal room temperature. It'll feel like I've moved South!


Despite the obvious physical discomfort, it's been more mentally challenging for me, which may be hard for someone to understand. The mental fight that you have to get out of bed... the physical-transferred-to-mental stress of enduring it... and the mental anguish of non-security that comes with the cold... you feel safe and secure and successful when it's warm... and not 'on the edge' or desolation or demise. It's pushed me into my bedroom this whole time. I am looking forward to the embrace of my father... and the embrace of a nice Carrier, 26,000 btu, high-efficiency output heater... which I will, from here on out, refer to as 'Mother'.

In the "Things I Won't Miss" series...

In my backyard, there's a lot of 'birds' I'd like to kill with one stone. Here, we'll go for the traditional two. In the foreground, the house across the alley is a rental. The guy that lives there (et al) goes somewhere to race vehicles for pink slips, which is where he got the white truck. The rest of the time, he works on the vehicles until all hours of the night, into the morning. With banging and lug nuts spinning, it's quite the symphony, although annoying.

My next door neighbors are a mess. Two kids in jail, the 15 year old daughter pregnant with her black baby-daddy's bastard child... the mother is on workers comp and another son who is not right in the head... and the poor father works ten jobs to keep them all going. You can see the screen to the upstairs window on their roof... this is how their two cats get out to come over and shit in my landscaping. Their back yard is a disaster area... their fence that is tied to my fence with rotted kite string is falling down... garbage all over the place and 'hidden' in the corner of the yard... dog shit everywhere from the dog tied to the back porch on a two foot lead... and the pool... I'm assuming that was supposed to be their beacon of normalcy... the thing that unites the family and makes them a 'model' suburban family? Sadly, and especially in this neighborhood, they are the normal family here in Stowe.

In the "Things I Won't Miss" series...

Looking out my bedroom window at the row of Section 8 housing across the street... seeing all their garbage cans (with more garbage laying on the ground or in my yard (not shown) than in the cans)... seeing my neighbor's broken-down Chevy van thankfully blocking the view out of my living room window... and all the neighbor's broken-down toys laying astrewn. In the Summer, the crazy man in the end unit sits under a tree and makes these noises every 23 seconds for hours on end... eeeehhhhhhh... eeeehhhhhhh... eeeehhhhhhh...

In the "Things I Won't Miss" series....

Early, every morning (at 11:00 a.m.) while I'm sleeping (lol), a train of 'boys in the hood in the making' goes by my house (since the daycare is on the corner)... very loudly, I might add. I'd like to think that it's great exercise for them, but I think that it's training for their hour in the 'yard' during their future prison stint. Notice that there is only one caucasian kid (don't mistake the one in the dead center... he's Asian (he's their money man))... in the back of the bus... err.. line. Things are a-changing.

Heaven...

Only if it was spoon-fed to me by a cute Boy Scout (over the age of 18)(instead of a Girl Scout), could it have been any better than it was....

(Soon to be) Home Sweet Home

Here we go... err... went!!

Not being a sports fan... I watched the Superbowl last night and can honestly say that it was fantastic! Very frustrating and exhilarating. Collectively, it was the most time I have spent watching a sporting event in my life and would say that it definitely was worth my time. It will do a lot for the morale in Pittsburgh as well as the city itself (as well as potato chip sales). It's great to call myself a Pittsburgher. I just may have turned the corner in my manhood, but I still have to wonder... how ever will they get those grass stains out of those white and gold pants?

UUUUUGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!

Damn rat!!! Curse you!!

Sparkle ball...

Simple, but utterly fantastic

Popcorn in your hair, anyone?

A PG-13 rating is a sterner warning by the Rating Board to parents to determine whether their children under age 13 should view the motion picture, as some material might not be suited for them. A PG-13 motion picture may go beyond the PG rating in theme, violence, nudity, sensuality, language, adult activities or other elements, but does not reach the restricted R category. The theme of the motion picture by itself will not result in a rating greater than PG-13, although depictions of activities related to a mature theme may result in a restricted rating for the motion picture. Any drug use will initially require at least a PG-13 rating. More than brief nudity will require at least a PG-13 rating, but such nudity in a PG-13 rated motion picture generally will not be sexually oriented. There may be depictions of violence in a PG-13 movie, but generally not both realistic and extreme or persistent violence. A motion picture’s single use of one of the harsher sexually-derived words, though only as an expletive, initially requires at least a PG-13 rating. More than one such expletive requires an R rating, as must even one of those words used in a sexual context. The Rating Board nevertheless may rate such a motion picture PG-13 if, based on a special vote by a two-thirds majority, the Raters feel that most American parents would believe that a PG-13 rating is appropriate because of the context or manner in which the words are used or because the use of those words in the motion picture is inconspicuous.

So, today, I was almost thrown out of a movie because I 'threatened' to punch two little kids that were behind us (without a parent) if they didn't stop throwing popcorn, spitting things at people through their straws, pounding on the floor and the seat in front of them, talking, burping and, I'd bet my life on it... farting. After telling the manager and him not doing anything, I took matters into my own hands and went back to them myself. The one kid went and told the usher and the usher came in to me and threatened to throw me out for 'threatening' them.

I find it ironic that everyone was so worried about me 'threatening' to punch them... as if that would be any more scarring to their young minds compared to the sex, swearing and knife-weilding killing going on in the movie that they should have never been able to be let into. After the movie, and after other people in the movie applauded me for getting them to stop, I went to the manager and asked why they were let in there. Apparently the rating system is just a suggestion to parents about the content and whether their kids should see it.

The parents obviously dropped the kids off unattended at the movie so they obviously don't care what they see as long as they are out of their hair. The rating says "some material may be inappropriate for children under 13"... so the parents already must have had some idea that their children would be inappropriately threatened... especially knowing how terrible their kids are. It also says "parents strongly cautioned"... and if the parent isn't present to be cautioned, then the kids will be.... strongly. What can I say, I have issues.

Is this discrimination to my sexual orientation?

While working at the Marriott in the Steelhead Lounge, there were many TVs on with some sporting event on and, although not a sports bar, it was widely accepted as the meeting place of the testosterone-pumped male. It was commonplace that employees would stop their work or congregate around the TV to catch a 10-15 minute glimpse of the game... every 10-15 minutes or so. Why is that acceptable? What if I wanted to watch someone fierce on Project Runway... or the Tony Awards were on and I wanted to see the fabulous Patti LuPone win a lifetime achievement award... or the 100th episode of Desperate Housewives was airing... or even the men's gymnastics finals were on... not even that one would be accepted even though technically it is a sport... (and while we're at it, hate to tell you but men rolling around on the floor in a cage mostly naked pressing their bodies together that ends in a hissy fit with kicking and slapping is called gay porn gone a wry, not extreme wrestling).

I heard that on Monday, schools will have a two-hour delay because it is planned on that the, now hormonally-unbalanced but future testosterone-pumped, wife-beating, beer-drinking boys of Pittsburgh will be tired from Sunday's event. I'm tired on Sunday's too... the frustration of waiting for Gabby to return to her former fabulous, rich self and how she will get rid of her bratty kids... whether Edie Britt will leave her husband... and whether or not Kevin and his boyfriend will ever escape from under Nora's thumb. That's real drama... Sports fans need to get a life... like me.

Only in Pittsburgh...

I took a break from redding up the house and decided to go up to the Giant Iggle to get something to eat n'at and I was pushing the buggy through the store and the floor was very slippy.

I'd like to think that I was doing some housework and went to the supermarket for food and was pushing the cart on the floor that was slippery, but that's not what happened. Perhaps if I was in Boston or Chicago, that may have happened. But here, and also coming from one who genuinely puts an effort into speaking correctly, it happened exactly as stated the first time... and I'm ok with that. It even sounds more exciting. You gotta love Pittsburgh... n'at.

It's the little things in life...

These are new... the Cherry Lemonade ones are awesome!! Haven't had the other ones yet. I'm pretty easy to please :)