Category: Humor

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Rites of passage

This one has been banging around in the draft folder for a while. Figured I’d publish it. Feel free to add comments. I’ll move the good ones into the body of the post. This list is not complete. I’ve been adding to it when I think about it.

These are things that we experience but often forget to share. As men, we should share this stuff, if only anonymously. The younger men ought to know what to expect. And hopefully we’ll get a laugh out of their horrified looks. Hey it’s what we do to each other!

In my life, the rites of passage I’ve experienced or witnessed have been, in no particular order;

Camping out by myself. Wow, look at those stars, My camp site is cool but I should have done X, Y, & Z differently. I’ll do those things differently next time.

Penthouse, Hustler and Chic, Magazines, So that’s what THEY have down there! And apparently MY junk recognized it… Even if I didn’t.

Firing you first gun.

Hitting your target with a bow.

Killing and eating your first meal.

1st wet dream, Oh my god!!! I wet the bed… no wait… what the hell is this??? I’ll ignore it maybe it will go away and not happen again.

Taking a brutal kick to the groin, there’s nothing like it. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.

The First Climax… AKA “Jacking off”,  Oh wow, rubbing that feels REALLY good! Oh nooo something is wrong! I hurt myself… I’m never doing that again… well maybe just this time, and 10 minutes later and 10 minutes after that. Then finding out other boys also found this neat thing their body would do. Then enjoying our smugness while we could exclude the boys who knew nothing of what we were talking about.

A couple of fights, Yeah, I’ve been punched in the face, bloodied up pretty good. I’ve been on the loosing and winning side of a fight. You learn a lot from both experiences. When you have your ass kicked, you decide that you want to know how to not let that happen again. You also learn to be a somewhat gracious winner. At least in school, in my case being decent about having won the fight and helping my defeated opponent to his feet is all that prevented us from being suspended. We got off with a stern talking to.

Finally understanding mercy and why it’s important in this world.

Being part of the winning team, and the pizza party afterwards

Being part of the losing team, and the pizza afterwards.

Your first body hair, Whats that? OUCH! it’s attached. Oh… cool!

Your First Shave, topped by your Dad giving you your first non-disposable razor.

Seeing a hardcore adult toy catalog, Oh so that’s what it looks like when people screw. Damn! that guys dick is huge. Why does she look like it hurts? Does it hurt to have sex? If it does why do people do it?

Learning to be judgmental 

That feeling of RAGE when you realize someone stole your shit!

Your First serious Girlfriend, She’s holding my hand! She’s letting me kiss her, she’s kissing me back uhhh oh I hope she doesn’t notice the tent in my pants. Shit! she noticed, hey shes smiling at it… She touched me through my jeans…. Wow! she’s putting my hand between her legs! I’m liking the way she’s moaning when I touch her… I’m liking even more how shes rubbing my dick… I just shot my juice with a girl!

Figuring out how to get condoms

First broken bone This is real bitch! why can’t I just walk like a normal person? Yeah, give me the walking cast, there was a question about needing this?

Understanding betrayal firsthand

The first broken nose Do you fix it yourself or run to the doctor? Fix it yourself of course!

Losing my virginity to a lovely lady in a seriously clumsy sexual escapade (I still grin about that one)

The first BJ, Oh YEAH, HELL YEAH!

A Driver’s license I’m never going to be home after today! Wait… I have to pay for gas AND insurance?

The frustration of being mobile, having condoms, and the house to yourself, and yet being unable to score.

Watching a porn movie in a theater...

Watching porn at home

Learning how to forgive

Knowing when to leave a party. Finding out later that you left just moments before the cops busted the place.

That first paycheck Wait! what the hell is FICA? Who is SSI? Why did they get my money before I did?

My First Apartment  The first night sleeping on the floor (I had no furniture) But it was MY PLACE all mine. The next day… I bug bombed the hell out of the place. While the bug bombs were driving the nasties into everyone elses places, I was out buying dishes, silverware, a frypan, a couple of pots, a Mr. Coffee,  and a cheap microwave. My waterbed was filled by nightfall and I slept like a baby that second night.

Purchasing my first Brand New Car  The little head was doing all the talking that night… I CHARGED the down payment yep… on my Mastercard… But I drove the hell out of that car and enjoyed every minute of it.

Losing family to death and having to be strong for the rest of the family

Taking a date to a nice restaurant, only to realize too late that she was ‘Eliza’ from My Fair Lady and I could have had more fun with another young lady, or that I could have gotten what I wanted by taking her to a Mc Donalds.

Being laid off from your job the first time.

My first hangover

Learning to take time in the sack and how to have a lazy, unhurried, guiltless, sexy screw on an beautiful Sunday morning.

My first auto accident. OH DAMN! that’s going to be expensive to fix!

Learning you’re good in a crisis, and learning that it’s OK to freak out a bit and have the shakes after the crisis is over.

The walk of shame the morning after a night of debauchery (That one still gets a grin too)

Learning to control your own fear, and learning that by your controlling your fear others around you are also less afraid.

Understanding you can change if you want to

Calling the Dr and having to answer the question… “What’s the reason you’re making this appointment?”, My answer was “I’m very irritated Down there!” Which is when I found out my dick doesn’t like Nonoxynol 9, but at the time I was just sure I had VD.

Turning down sex for the first time… What the hell just happened? I never turn down getting laid

The first prostate exam, DOC, you are going to do WHAT???

How to lose it all and survive, It’s all just stuff… Stuff does not make me who I am.

Learning how NOT to be judgmental 

Losing friends to death and learning how to grieve.

First Gray hairs… on my balls! Oh Hell no, that just ain’t right!

Learning that happiness or sadness isn’t about what’s outside, it’s about what’s in you.

 

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The past couple of nights have been “Interesting”…

…The Insomniac theater of the absurd.

I wrote a blog sitting naked at my desk. It was long rambling, random, and well… Nuts!

I started taking an antibiotic that cautions it may cause dizziness. They should also caution about insomnia and insanity.

Probably not a good sales pitch though. “This antibiotic is effective against sinusitis and may also cause extended episodes of intense crazy. Use with caution when operating heavy equipment.“

I’d take an erection lasting four hours, but that’s not what this antibiotic promises or what it’s delivering…

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I chose not to publish the “crazy blog”… Probably for the best.

Last night I dreamt I was with Arlene in a psychotic TrueBlood nightmare.

I was offering her soothing words about her husband Terry having been ripped apart by a flatulent vampire. Arlene said, “I can deal with Terry being ripped apart… but what is that horrific stink?“

Just then Terry pulled himself back together and became a flatulent vampire who kept chasing us round and round Merlotte’s but was easy to avoid because we smelled him coming.

Lafayette put an end to Vampire Terry with a pot of chili and a can of lysol. “Bitch! I jus done cleaned this kitchen and you come up in here smelling like dat? Awww HELL NO!” 

I ask you… is this the kind of behavior you want from your antibiotic? I didn’t think so.

Then this morning, I was outside doing poo patrol in the back yard.

OK did someone put extra stinkiness in the poo, or have my sinuses started to clear?

Then it hit me one of the dogs must have been particularly gaseous last night which got incorporated into the TrueBlood dream / nightmare.

I guess you could say the past night or two has been shitty or at least gassy.

I do hope only the mind altering drugs you expect to cause delusions are deluding you, and that your antibiotics are just killing infections.

Have a good one

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It’s one of those days.

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I fired up my computer and started rooting around for a link to a web site I know I have saved somewhere.

I can’t find it

What I did find is one of the strangest assortments of websites I’ve ever seen… And they’re all sites I actually took the time to save.

What was I thinking?

UH OH! 

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I just fell down the rabbit hole. The OCD is running wild (I’m actually only OCD about my computer…) I’m deleting tons of web addresses and wondering why the hell I saved them in the first place.

I’ve completely forgotten what I was searching for.

At the same time I happened to notice that I had over 3000 tweets… I found out that you can’t select them all and delete them. You have to delete them one at a time #lame.

But I found a little web app that will go through and delete your tweets. 

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I set it to automatically delete all my tweets older than 2 weeks.

Do I really need to leave online traces of my thoughts from a particular time? Nah…

Tweets are supposed to be ephemeral I think 2 weeks is long enough for a tweet to live.

I wish Twitter would allow us to set a “time to live” for our tweets. In fact, I just sent that request to twitter engineering.

OH! I remembered what I was looking for…. Oh crap! I forgot again. <– Damn senior moment! Squirrel!

I’m off to go be a grumpy old man…

“HEY… You kids! GET OFF MY LAWN!!!!”

I’m really going to go finish cleaning up my computer and try to get something constructive done today.

I hope you have a great day.

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What is it with OLD people?

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Yeah, I know some people think I’m old.

But I’m talking the really old folks

 My complaint is based in the following scenarios. Scenarios, I might add which happen all too often sometime 3 & 4 times in the same day.

I’m out in my yard, (Front or back) minding my own business. I could be doing poo patrol or have my head down in a hole fixing a sprinkler. Picture the situation, I’m distracted or concentrating or something and invariably some old fossil come up behind me. and yells my name.

 I mean right behind me.

How the fuck do they manage to get that close? I hear everything around me. I can differentiate the sound of snake scales sliding across pine needles and leaves. But I can’t seem to hear an old person walking up right behind me.

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What is it? Their damnable slippers?

Some weird stealth technique designed to freak out the young?

 Possibly an evolutionary gift. Something that allowed the old folks in a tribe to be able to eliminate their young warrior opposition…

I’m twitchy naturally. But you sneak up behind me and shout and I’m full on insane! Especially if I’m concentrating on something else.

What amazes me is that these folks are shocked when I spin around ready to defend myself.

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Usually they forget what they were going to tell me, then engage in some inane conversation about the weather. Meanwhile there’s a fountain of water jetting 18 feet up out of the ground where i’d been so intently working.

Then the conversation goes like this

“Got a leak huh?” 

“Oh NO I was planning a perpetual fountain right here in the middle of the lawn, I’d just turned it on when you scared the hell out of me!”

“Ohhh thats nice….it’s a pretty day isn’t it?”

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In my darker thoughts I consider the possibilities of being able to dig a large 6 foot deep hole in the front lawn without anyone noticing… Nah… too many rocks I’d need a backhoe.

“So, older person what did you need from me?”

“Oh I just wanted to thank you for that cheese you gave me”

I’m thinking “what cheese?” then I remember the incident in question was 6 weeks ago.

Then I think I’ll bet that cheese stopped the poor person up for 6 weeks. I wonder if I gave them a pound of it, would I not see them till Spring?

Nah… too cruel, the paramedics would have to hump the old person out in 3 feet of snow.

I put a smile on my face. Although I’m well aware the smile is that of a predator, something akin to the wolfs smile that tipped Little Red Riding Hood off.  

“You’re welcome… Now if you’ll excuse me I really must get back to my chores. Have a nice day.”

By now the yard is flooded and I’m going to have to turn off the water for the next 5 hours waiting for the ground to dry out enough to be able to work on it.

While I’m waiting for the yard to dry, I decide to do Poo patrol. I’m in my own little world listening to the birds tweeting and channeling St Mike Rowe so that I may complete the poo chores without heaving.

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I’m along my fence line on the neighbors side of the fence there is a line of Cottonwood trees. The foliage is pretty dense, and the leaves make quite a racket in the breeze.

“DID YOU GET ANY RASPBERRIES!!!” I swear to god, not 3 feet behind me. Poo goes flying, I stumble into the raspberry bushes swearing as the thorns find and rip my flesh.

“Nope, your cottonwoods have sucked all the water out of the soil on this side of the yard and are killing the raspberry bushes”

“I know… maybe I should get these trees out of here, they’re getting into my septic tank too.”

I’m picturing the absolutely lovely stench we’re going to be treated to, probably in some sweltering July.

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I know this old fossil isn’t going to take any action and fear that I’m the one who’s going to;

a) Find his rotting corpse.

b) Have to remove the cottonwoods as an act of self preservation before they get into MY septic Tank.

c) Deal with him burning his house down

d) All of the above

Hummm they’re doing all kinds of construction in the wash…. There are several backhoes and there will be lots of concrete being poured… Nah… too Godfather!

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I say, after making sure that the internal dialog isn’t cross connected to the external voice.

“Yeah, you probably should get those trees taken care of before they damage your septic tank. That’s an expensive repair. It’s cheaper to have the trees yanked and replant something else.”

“Well I don’t have a lot of money…”

“Neither do I.”, I’m wondering is this guy asking me to pay for his shit? Cause that isn’t happening.

He wanders off behind the trees.

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I get myself out of the raspberries. Pick up the poo collection tools and recollect the poo that I spilled from the scoop when the neighbor startled me.

“DO YOU WANT SOME TOAST?“

Sigh…

These raspberry bushes are never going to recover…

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OK I’m a Bastard!

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I hate being a bastard.

I really do, and yet I’m all too often exactly that. I seem to be really good at it.

I try not to be.

The latest incident was when I was no longer able to ignore that the other person in this household is a freakin packrat.

I found myself in the garage wondering why I couldn’t get to my workout bench anymore. Then I was wondering why I couldn’t get to my Bike anymore.

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Then I was wondeing why the garage floor was so filthy only to realize the the overriding answer to all these questions was that there were piles of useless crap all over the garage.

Then I started investigating the Piles O’ Shit.

I know better than this. I know that if I poke through my happy gossamer illusion that I’ll come face to face with the truth…

Which in this case is that the other half is and has been stacking shit up in the garage, the basement, the guestroom closet and in, of course my workout area.

I go off.

I mean I really shouldn’t have to move shit to get to or use other shit. I feel if I’m having to move shit to get to other shit, we have too much shit!

That’s when I notice that e-waste that should have been tossed 4.5 years ago is actually stuffed in a box on the far side of the garage where I really hadn’t noticed it.

My failure to notice it is in part due to my happy gossamer illusion and in part because of the other car that’s usually parked blocking the view of the stack of boxes.

OH HELL!!!! WTF???

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“Why is this stuff still sitting here after 5 years?” I demand to know.

“Uhh I was going to take it to the rummage sale“

“There have been 5 rummage sales since we… You & I… decided that this stuff needed to go.“

“Uhhh“

“What’s in that box over there?“, I walk to another box and flip it open.

“OHHHH Look, it’s cassette tapes that got all wet when the house burned, and OH by the way, YOU DO Realize that we don’t have a cassette player… AT ALL.”

I walk over to flip open another box, at this point I think my German, Viking genes kicked in. I don’t know if I was more Viking or just Nazi in my interrogation.

“How nice… Video Tapes! Which we also no longer have the capacity to play. Were you planning on buying a VCR? I doubt that Walmart would agree to transfer this porn collection to DVD for you. And they don’t have to! We’ve replaced the best of this collection WITH BLU-RAY.“

The other half is now speechless, making unintelligible gurgling sounds.

I don’t stop… I can’t.

“Why is there a parallel printer sitting over there? You realize that we don’t own a single computer that could even drive that machine don’t you?“

The Other half responds, “Well… well, it’s our printer it was at the religious place I work, when we moved offices I brought it home.”

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I accept this explanation.

“What computer was it connected to where you work?“

I know the answer to this question now I’m just being a bastard… With a capital “B”

“Uh, well, uh it was connected to my my old 286 when I was using that at the religious edifice.“

“I see, so this printer has been sitting disused with it’s ink cartridges dried in place for 10 years? And NOW you decide we need to have it sitting in our garage?“

Yes, I’m a real evil bastard when I have my illusion shattered.

“Well I thought you’d want it back.“

“Why? The only computer equipment that I owned which could have driven this machine was destroyed in the fire.

When was the last time you saw anything like that connector? A Better question is where is the cable? An even better question is where is that 286 computer?

Why on earth would you bring this home, it’s unusable because the ink has obviously leaked all over the inside of the device and without a cable to connect it or a computer to drive it you’ve essentially brought home a filthy, sticky, paperweight!“

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You see I’m a Bastard but I tend to get really nasty when someone throws common sense out the window.

I notice glass bottles destined for the California redemption facility. These bottles have been sitting there covered with a moving pad for over a year.

[When I was a kid it was simple, you took the empty bottle to the 7-11 and they gave you 5 cents. Done deal! I don’t know why it’s so complex now days.]

“Why are these still here? Should I grind them into sand and recast them into windows or perhaps learn glass blowing? How about we simply wait for them to decay to sand in situ.“

It was unkind, I admit that.

In my defense,  the most annoying part of all this is that I’d happily take this stuff to the redemption place or the disposal place.

But if it’s hidden from me I don’t even know that I should. I thought the moving pad was covering a cart used to move instruments and never thought to look under it.

Instead the other half would prefer to be a martyr, a victim, a slave, eternally put upon and sad because I’m being mean.

Oh but we’re not done yet…

You see the primary reason we’re down here is because the other half disconnected without telling me, my Bike from the battery tender. The other half instead connected their Bike rather than buying another battery tender (AS I had directed).

This in and of itself isn’t a big deal except that in the process they made 2 additional and critical mistakes.

1) They shorted the connection on my Bike in all likely-hood dropping my Bikes battery to 1/2 charge or less, and shortening my battery’s lifespan.

2) They didn’t switch the connection back to my Bike when the other Bike had reached full charge.

This resulted in my battery being dead… I mean replacement time dead. So now that it’s a nice time of year to ride in the mountains, after I’ve moved the Pile O’ Shit to get to my Bike I can’t start it.

The upshot is that NOW I have to have a trailer come to get my Bike and take it somewhere to get a new battery, replace the charred connector, and OH what the hell might as well have an oil change while It’s there anyway.

BUT We’re not done… Oh Noooooo!

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Since I’ve now uncovered the source of the garage problems…. I feel the need to fix them.

I’m mostly German what do you expect?

First, I once again say, “I’ll happily take the e-waste and recyclables to the appropriate disposal site. All you have to do is make sure that your e-waste is in a designated spot… HERE!”

I designate the spot. I reinforce the designation by moving the obvious e-waste to the spot.

“No, I’ll take it. I drive right by there all the time.“

Clearly the other half isn’t anticipating how that statement is going to go over with me. 

“If you drive by there all the time… Why is this stuff still sitting in the garage?“

The other half stomps off.

What did I say?

In the pleasant silence, punctuated by slamming doors and stomping up stairs. I begin contemplating phase two of the garage beautification plan.

Shelves!

Temporarily around here is approximately a five year time interval. The progression is however non-linear. Two “Temporarily” units do not equal 10 years.

It’s more like 15 years. Adding a third “temporarily” is something on the order of a glacial epoch. 

Originally, I had planned to put shelves up in the basement and also in the garage. My cleverly laid and throughly explained, plan was thwarted by the other half filling those spaces… “Temporarily” with crap, the large majority of which I think should have been heaved unceremoniously in the closest dumpster.

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However, I have an opportunity right now, in that I can get to the walls of the garage.

A slamming door followed by tromping footsteps herald the arrival of the other half for “Round Two”. Ding Ding!

“I want to put up shelves to help clean the clutter up in the garage. I was thinking of perhaps 7 foot lengths and two or three shelves along this wall.“, I indicate the wall. 

“Grunt“, is the response.

“I was thinking that we could hang the bicycles from the ceiling, here. This would allow the motorcycles to be parked there, and my workout bench to be relocated over here. This arrangement would make the area under the stairs available for infrequently used items such as the mailbu light supplies.”

“Grunt“, is the response.

“I take it that you are not opposed to this?”

“Well, do you really want to put 7 foot long shelves up there, why not the full length of the wall? How wide would these shelves be? How many shelves?”

Ahhh, the wonder of engagement!

“Well I was thinking about breaking the shelves so that the bicycles could fit nicely in the middle with their tires against the wall. Then the snowblower could be parked neatly under them.”

“But where would you get the shelves, and do you know that they’re available in that length? are you going to the local hardware store or to the one in Phelan? Or will you be going to the Lowes or Home Depot? Do they cut shelving material? Are you planning to use plywood or maybe some nicer hardwood? Will they be painted?“

(This is how the game is always played. “Where do you want to go to dinner?” Invariably results in a discussion that is longer than the damn dinner itself. The same is true of any issue that comes up where there might be a difference of opinion.

The statement “I’d like to move out of California….” Results in comments like “What would we do with the house? Where? I have a job here! What would you hope to accomplish in another state? Why do you want to leave so bad? State X is not a state I’m politically comfortable in.” [in other words a predominantly pro business Republican state. But it’s perfectly OK that I have to suffer an essentially anti business predominantly Democratic state. Hell I’d be really happy in a state that was about 1/2 & 1/2]

I’ve come to understand this is a tactic that is really about shutting down the conversation, without saying something as direct and honest as “NO… I don’t want to go out to dinner.” Or “NO… I don’t want to move out of California and here’s why.“

And the beat goes on…)

Now is when I become an absolute double, dirty dog BASTARD!

“They can be any way you like them. I’m not married to the style, only that we have the shelves.“

At which point more grumbling and the need to make phone calls and search the internet arises, but I don’t have to do it. I can settle back and relax while the other half contributes the comparison shopping and even the pick-up.

In the end, this little project is going to cost about $250 The brackets cost more than the shelving material.

The shelving will be precut 6 foot lengths about 12 inches wide. The material will be a nice white plastic finish over 5/8″ plywood. 

The items that need to be up off the floor, will be off the floor, providing us with more room to actually move around the cars while they’re in the garage.

More importantly, the crap that’s been sitting in the garage waiting to be tossed out, will be.

A load was put in the other halfs car tonight.

I’ll get my shelves. The order should be ready for pickup tomorrow.

But the absolute best part of all of this is

I WIN!

 

I hope that your day is as rewarding.