Category: Family

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Just because I’m a nice guy…

Doesn’t mean that I want to be drawn into your bullshit.

Especially if you don’t have the balls to directly ask me what you want.

I think I’m going to have a T-Shirt made!

I’m basically a nice guy. I can be an asshole, but to be honest that’s a defensive screen because so many people want to take advantage of any nice people they meet.

Being nice is perceived by some, sadly too many, as inherently weak and easily manipulated. So a lot of nice people cloak themselves in the mantle of being an asshole. If we didn’t, we’d be manipulated into doing shit that we don’t want to do, or indeed didn’t have the time to do for other people all our lives.

I can tell you this from bitter experience, once someone gets their hooks into you and figures out that they can manipulate you they will never stop. They’ll be a fucking parasite until you’ve got nothing left to give them or you actively burn them out of your life.

I have a lot of respect for people who can say “No” without guilt, fear, or remorse.

I have a hard time saying “No” because growing up I was conditioned to please EVERYONE! Instead of breaking that conditioning which was built from the damn cradle onward, I created the asshole cloak. My problem is that sometimes I leave the house without it.

An interesting case in point was Saturday.

I had a very disturbing call with my Mother. The call was beyond disturbing it was very upsetting. (No one can push your buttons like your Mother!) Normally, when I get this kind of upset, I do something physical to dissipate the hurt and anger before it turns in on me and causes further damage.

This is how we came to have a drip irrigation system at our house prior to the place burning. It’s a serious challenge to dig any kind of hole where I live. One day, The Other Half and I had a throw down of an argument. I grabbed my handy trenching tool and proceeded to dig all the trenches necessary to bury the drip lines. When he stepped out onto the deck with a tall glass of ice tea and told me to come and drink something I took it as him apologizing. He wasn’t… He was just worried that I’d work myself to heat stroke. Later he told me he kept thinking, “That dumbass will come in soon, he’s been out there working in that heat for six solid hours with no food and no water.” He only fixed me a glass of iced tea when he realized I was fixated on what I was doing.

From then on, he’d keep an eye on me. He realized that day that I was very stubborn and if I was completely engaged in doing something, I would literally forget basic stuff. This was especially true if I was working off anger, frustration, or sadness. He wasn’t so worried about me in the Winter time but Summer always made him nervous.

Anyhow, I’d had this phone call with my Mother. I pulled on my boots, grabbed my yard tool, and got to cutting and trimming. Trouble was, I ran out of plants to mangle before I ran out of anger. I switched from the chainsaw to the weed whacker and discovered there wasn’t anything tall enough in my yard to trim down.

Then I remembered that my next door neighbor had been out in Palm Springs looking after a sick friend. I marched over to his yard. Surely, there must be something that needs cutting! No Joy! Nothing had grown since the last time I trimmed his place. (I took care of his yard before the weed abatement people could ticket him.)

Now I’m getting frustrated about not being able to vent my frustration!

Hmmm. The new guy… he’s going through a divorce. He’s been spending time with his kids and doesn’t have any of his stuff with him. He’s only living there for 6 months… And he’s gone for the afternoon with his Son.

His rental yard is ripe for the trimming…

So I get to work. My anger and frustration flowing out of me as I focus on trimming the weeds. I’m happy in my own world mowing down thicket after thicket. I’ve moved to the area where he parks and have just about completed it when I hear my name.

FUCK!

It’s the neighbor that lives next to Crazy Pants. The guy who NEVER says what he means. Who never just asks for what he wants, instead it’s always a long drawn out convoluted miasma of words and randomized ideas. I sometimes find dealing with him excruciating. And in my current state… I’m in no fucking mood!

But then, he hits me with a question that makes me concerned that he’s losing his mind just like my Mother. He asks if I’m the property owner of the rental air B&B. He knows that I’m not. When I tell him, “No,” he asks me if I have a key to the place. Uh, “No!”

Suddenly I flash forward to where this conversation is going because this conversation is like 10 other “conversations” before.

He’s going to bitch about the exterior lights being left on and since he sleeps in his living room how these lights bother him and disrupt his sleep. YAWN! NOT MY FUCKING PROBLEM!

But he wants to make it my problem. He wants me to talk to whoever and make them turn out the lights. He seems to expect me to be interested or concerned or frankly give a damn.

In the back of my mind I’m thinking, “Get off your ass, put down the fucking bong, and deal with your own shit.” He’s still droning on and on about how tough it is for him sleep and how put upon these lights are making him feel, no-one understands how difficult… blah, blah, blah.

I’m at the end of the conversation while he’s still droning on. And I’m getting really angry about it. I put my brain in neutral. Why does this guy think I, or anyone else for that matter care? Can he not see that I’m hot and sweaty and his puerile issue with the lights is of zero concern to me, I just want to get back to burning off angry energy which he’s actively refueling.

I cut off the remaining 45 minutes of his bitching and complaining, “You know man, both of the lights shine into my house too. We’ve discussed this before. The folks are renters and probably haven’t figured out what switches do what yet. When it was an Air B&B those renters always left the lights on. Having a permanent renter is better than an Air B&B here.”

He blinked, “Both Lights????”

I pretty much growled, “Uh yeah, the porch light and the deck light both shine into my house. I use this new thing they call a shade.”

The whine of the weed whacker motor drowned out whatever reply he might have made. Then I realized part of what had made me so angry. For all his whingeing and blathering on about his interrupted sleep, not once did he ask me directly to speak to someone on his behalf, he just assumed that because I’m a nice guy he can delegate his shit to me.

Now I’m really pissed off. How about this motherfucker asking himself, or me what’s up? Not once in 30+ years of living here have I gone unbidden into someone else yard to clear weeds. Clearly I’m exhibiting odd behavior.

I popped open the gate to the rest of the rental’s yard.

The weeds in that yard now know the meaning of Vengeful! The weeds on an odd small patch of land at the end of my street also learned the term.

The battery died just as I finished the little patch.

My anger and rage had abated significantly, but embers still remain.

I’m going to be really screwed the next time my Mother calls.

OH LOOK! There she is now.

Maybe I really need that belt sander I’ve been looking at. There’s some painting to be done around here. Perhaps that nice compound mitre saw too.

Sigh, “Hello Mom. No, we spoke yesterday. Yes we did, I’m sorry you don’t remember. No, I’m not lying to you…”

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I’m not looking forward to dating…

Yes, I’m still a ways off from that. Nonetheless I’m not looking forward to it.

The reason is straight forward.

Statistically all gay men are Democrats. Sure, there are actually some republican gay men, and there are some conservative gay men. However their numbers are so vanishingly small as to be numerically insignificant. Therefore they don’t exist.

Given the premise that all gay men are Democrats and all Democrats are liars, it follows that all gay men are liars.

I’m sure there are gay men who are not liars, but statistically the number of honest gay men must be so close to zero, as to be functionally zero.

Since I don’t like liars, I’m expecting for dating to be pretty unpleasant.

My other half was a Democrat when we met. I was a Republican. That was back when gay men were just happy to find someone else who loved them and didn’t care about stupid crap like politics. Sure, we canceled each others votes out for years, but over time, we both moved to a more centrist view and then both left our respective political parties so we could hurl insults at Democrats and Republicans, without being hypocrites.

The process of us moving toward more centrist beliefs took many years, and honestly, it was a fun process. We both learned a lot. Mostly, we learned that we loved each other.

I doubt I have that many years ahead of me so I’m not going to engage in another long term conversion project. I have decided in general that I’m not going to date Democrats. Of course rules are made to be broken and someone who is particularly interesting could be forgiven their political insanity.

Given what I’ve seen with the dating apps & sites. I’ll Pass! I think I’ll find a bar or pub that’s comfortable when I want to be around people and other than that I’ll just live my life doing the things I want to do.

There are things I’m interested in and perhaps with a little discretion I’ll find other guys who are interested in those things too. Maybe I’ll just get some nice subtle rainbow items. (Old rainbow not that new abomination!)

Something to hang on my backpack or dive gear, small but noticeable to the discerning eye. Possibly I’ll add some swag from my political party affiliation too. I could also add some swag from the Atlas Shrugged website… That would be over most people’s heads, but some might get it.

This adornment might be off-putting to most, but to the kind of folks I’m interested in hanging out with, or knowing in the biblical sense, it might be a way of winnowing the wheat from the chaff.

Alternatively, I could simply resolve to confine my dating to nothing more than prostitutes…

“Your cash is on the counter Chad, thanks for the mediocre blowjob, now get out.”

I must admit that does seem to be more direct, more convenient, and quite possibly cheaper …

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Well the bitch still succeeded didn’t she?

Rick & Morty, an adult animated show is in the process of recasting one of the show’s creators voice roles.

Justin Roiland was accused earlier this year of felony domestic abuse. Mind you he had not been convicted, but that didn’t stop Adult Swim from pulling him from the show.

Here’s the really shitty part. All the charges were dropped Roiland said at the time the charges were filed, that he believed that a disgruntled Ex-girlfriend was attempting to get revenge by having him cancelled. Well that may be true but the bitch still won.

An Article from UPROXX is located here

This is one of the reasons that I don’t really want to return to work with corporate America. Women have demonstrated time and again that there are completely willing to destroy someone’s career for nothing more than petty vengeance. I’ve witnessed it at the last place I worked.

I’ve also witnessed Male persons of color getting away with sexual harassment of white women. And because the white women weren’t believed when they reported something, they became targets for more and more abuse. So much so that they left the company. It’s in effect sanctioned racism and sexism but no corporation will ever admit this happens. In fact they’d accuse me and the other people who made statements to HR of lying. Corporate America will say, “It doesn’t happen and has never happened!”

But it does and did.

It’s another example of double standards. Roiland is white, and Male. All it takes for him to lose his job is an accusation from a person he once dated.

Males of Color on the other hand are credibly accused by multiple witnesses of groping white women’s breasts and feeling those women’s asses and HR says, “It’s their culture. They meant nothing by it. You just don’t understand.” Then later, officially nothing happened and nothing was done. So much for that vaunted Zero Tolerance policy.

I’d like to have a job. I’d take 2/3 of what I was being paid if I could work from home and not have to deal with corporate politics. I’d join the video conferences and such but I probably wouldn’t speak.

I literally have become suspicious of the motivations of practically anyone in corporate America. There have been way too many times when something I said was misquoted, or taken out of context, or misunderstood and some jackass from some other department decided something had to be done.

There once was a Director of my department who found themselves on a plane at 37,000 feet flying from Florida to California when they discovered that they only had half of a story. Then when they got the rest of the story, realized that I was probably loaded for bear and had my attorney on speed dial.

They were entirely correct!

The problem was a female boss who couldn’t stand that I was dragged into a lot of meetings. She had a real problem that I didn’t answer her instant messages instantly.

I should point out that more often than not her instant messages were, “How’s your day going?” If I answered, “Very Busy.” It led to a third degree, 25 minutes of instant messaging and a 30 minute phone call. God I hate passive aggressive shit! This particular bitch couldn’t count butts in chairs to validate she was in control so she resorted to inane questions that she shouldn’t have been asking if she actually knew what she was doing

I only had a desktop computer. Since the meetings I was attending were not at my desk, but were instead in conference rooms throughout the building, obviously I wasn’t going to be able to answer her silly instant messages instantly. For that matter, most of the conference rooms didn’t have Wifi so a laptop wouldn’t have helped all that much either.

Not to mention that it’s rude to be in a meeting with a Vice President and carrying on a conversation with someone else via instant messaging.

After costing the company 5 to 10 thousand dollars in travel expenses for the director and herself, she was only demoted. She should have lost her job. She didn’t because she was a girl and I was an evil testosterone poisoned male. I still should have sued the shit out of the company because that bitch lied and slandered my name throughout the company.

It’s stuff like this that make men like me super cautious about working for women. I’ve had way too many female bosses.

I guess now the bitches don’t even have to work at the same company you do. All that has to have happened is that you fucked them and broke up with them. How could you decide their so called “golden hole” wasn’t worth the pain or expense necessary to use it?

I hope Rick & Morty survives but if it doesn’t we’ll be able to thank another lying bitch for taking something else enjoyable away from the rest of us.

Amber Heard – I’m looking at your abusive lying ass!

I hope Roiland sues the living shit out of the woman that falsely accused him.

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Why the company of a Dog is better than that of a person.

Your dog doesn’t care if you wander around the house naked. The dog doesn’t judge you if your fat ass shatters mirrors in every room.

Your dog doesn’t care if you say climate change is normal and the end of the world in 10 years is BullShit. Your dog looks at you as if to say who cares? I’m going to be dead and you’re old enough that you’ll probably be dead too!

Your dog doesn’t care if you voted for Trump or Biden. I have noticed that my dog tends to pee on one kind of yard sign more than the other.

Your dog doesn’t care if you don’t use the right pronouns.

Your dog doesn’t care if you say the transgender bullshit is wrong.

Your dog doesn’t judge you on anything but the quality of the treats, the punctuality of you putting food in the bowl, the walk schedule, your ability to play ball and cuddling during thunderstorms.

It’s not correct to say your dog doesn’t judge you, they do. But what they judge you on are real things, in the real world.

For a dog every day is a new beautiful thing, full of adventure and joy.

A dogs exuberance is contagious and my dog has carried me though one of the roughest times in my life.

I noticed today that he’s making me smile and laugh a little more every day.

Lots of people on the other hand are almost exactly opposite of a dog.

That’s why I’ll take my dog over most people every time. Yep, even when he demands to go for a walk in the rain or snow. Strangely, those walks are fun even if we come home soaking wet and muddy. His laughing look makes it worth it.

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The best laid plans…

The tail spin I’ve been in for the past few months is starting to be… less spinney. I’m not out of the spin yet, not by a long shot, but I’m getting better.

I had a plan for our retirement. A plan for what I wanted to do. I pictured us having a small home, with a lawn. I pictured actually having to own a lawn mower for the first time in my life. I’d even been shopping for mowers I might want. I pictured puttering around in a garden, and the two of us enjoying warm days with friends. Nice barbecues, dog walks and quiet times. Most of all I pictured having a mailbox. A “real” address and the joy of not having to worry about how something was being sent to me, because there was only one address to worry about. 

Yellow houseThese are small things. When you haven’t had them for most of your adult life they attain outsized importance.

I saw us enjoying hobbies and interests we’d not had the time to pursue because our jobs were always in the way. We always wanted to travel, we envied those of our friends who made traveling a priority and found the money to afford to do it. We always thought we’d have time. “Once we retire,” we’d say to each other.

I know this is an idealized view, and the reality of our retirement wouldn’t have been quite so… idyllic? Bucolic? But I thought that I’d be able to hammer some part of it out for us, even if it was only for a few years. 

Now, all that is changed. That’s what put me into the tailspin in the first place, aside from the shock, then learning that my other half had made no provisions for his demise.

You’d think I’d be mad, but I gotta say, “Good one babe, ya left me holding the bag!” 

I find myself wondering what now? What next?

I’m still here, the dog is still here, there’s still a small home with a patch of grass out there somewhere. There’s still barbecue, beer, warm days, mild winters, dog walks, and laughs. It’ll just be me and the dog doing all those things by ourselves. The dog is generally good company so that’s a plus. 

One distant acquaintance told me I’d meet someone else. She was attempting to tell me there was a future. She has no sense of boundaries, or decorum, and didn’t know that I’d long ago decided that I wasn’t going to “get hitched” again. I might not even date. I might simply decide that scratching a certain itch is best done in a way that ends with me saying, “Your money is on the counter, now please leave.” There is an interest on my part to “ordering from a catalog,” so to speak. I suspect that is cheaper than dinner & drinks, and I don’t have to be deafened by bar music.

I’ve decided that moving is best for me in the long run. Where I live now is a beautiful place, I have a view that I enjoy very much. But time is catching up with me, I don’t do as well in the winters as I used to. I’ve concluded it’s time for me to take the hint. I think I should go in search of the patch of grass and a mailbox that I’d fantasized about so often.

As I’ve looked at other places to live and the houses available, I’ve discovered that I like either brand new houses or I like really old houses. 1944 and before generally. I suppose it’s because those houses seem to have a lot of character. I know that is sometimes another way of saying they’re a money pit but some of the pictures of these older homes are very nice. The newer houses seem to have a lot of conveniences. 

I’ll have to adjust my visualization down to one chair on the porch but I’m working on that.

The mornings here are getting warmer, I’ve been taking my coffee and iPad out on the back deck to enjoy the quiet of the morning and scan the daily follies of the “Adults” in Washington. The dog likes it because he can watch the world and keep an eye on me at the same time.

I guess the lesson learned is plans and dreams change.