Tag: Being a man

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Obviously MEN are better at everything!

Men are better at Sports. We’re better at women’s and men’s sports hands down.

Men are winning Women of the year awards and all we have to do is what we already do best. Dress like a woman and apply makeup better than women do. I’ll admit the tuck and duct tape might be a bit uncomfortable but hey we’re better at dealing with pain too.

Men are stronger, better cooks, painters, drivers, clothing designers, and shoes designers too, (Think Jimmy Cho)!

Men are better at war, science, healing, diplomacy, computer science, and really anything you can name. Obviously, men should be paid more than women!

Most of us can write our initials (some of us our whole names,) in piss, on walls and in sand or snow. How many women can do that? Women don’t think that’s cool, but lots of proud CIS men think it’s cool.

Once artificial wombs are working we’ll be better at reproduction too. Why? Because we have X and Y chromosomes. In the event that women ever become necessary again we have the ability to make them.

Why bother? Women are bad at everything.

Remember that God originally built only Adam. Adam was lonely so God built Eve from Adams rib. If God had built Steve instead of Eve, then perhaps the whole mess with the tree of knowledge and the serpent could have been avoided.

Wake UP PEOPLE!

This is the kind of stupid crap that we were supposed to have eradicated 30 years ago. Yet here we are again. What’s next? Will we force women back into the kitchen to be barefoot and pregnant?

Come on! Stop acting like men dressing like women and taking awards away from Ladies who worked their asses off for them is okay.

This shit isn’t right and we all know it. Stop being afraid to call it out.

If something isn’t right and it’s obviously hurting a select group, aren’t we supposed to speak up and fix the problem? The problem here is asshole men who want 5 minutes in the spotlight because they couldn’t rank against other men, so they beat the shit out of Women in sports and other awards.

Oh, Ladies, the men who stand up against this dumb assed shit, will really need your help and guidance… You know sometimes we’re like bulls in china shops. We need a soft hand on the shoulder with a soft kind voice, letting us know when it’s time to stop.

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Mitch it’s time for you to head to the pasture.

I say that to you the same as I’d say it to anyone in my family.

The men in my family would pour our Elder two fingers of Evan Williams, and respectfully ask him to give us his guns. (Provided he hadn’t already.) It’s symbolic; A way of telling our Elder, “We’ve got your back. We’ll keep you safe, and shed tears when you leave us.”

While I disagree with a lot of your politics Senator McConnell, I’m sorry about whatever is happening to you. Maybe you should take these freezing events as your body telling you time is short. (That’s what the men in my family would interpret them as. We’d take you hunting, fishing, or riding, as often as you wanted, so the last of your days are filled with happiness, love, and respect.)

Since you’re not a member of my family may I suggest, it’s time to retire and spend the waning days of your life on the porch with your family?

Go home to Kentucky and appreciate the smell of hay being mowed, the rain on the earth, and the fall foliage. Enjoy the change of seasons and Thanksgiving watching the kids and grandkids playing touch football in the yard.

You’ve lived a long life, battled in politics for years, and have certainly earned a little peace & quiet.

Walk away from the political theater. You’ve done all that can be done. Killing yourself by staying in office isn’t going to change a thing. The cards have been dealt, they’ll be played whether you’re in the Senate or not.

Go home to our beloved bluegrass covered hills, horse farms, and orderly split rail fences.

Enjoy watching horses running across the fields. When you close your eyes for the last time, you’ll be doing it at home, contentedly in a quiet place without a gaggle of reporters shouting at you.

Respectfully, It’s time for you to rest sir.

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A Good Day

I did the usual chores, played a video game or two, watched Foundation on Apple TV. Then I made dinner, went out to the deck to eat and watched the sunset.

The moon rose gently over the mountain then hung behind the trees at the top of the ridge for a few minutes.

It was one of the perfect photographic shots that you miss because your phone is inside and probably won’t catch the image. You think for a minute and realize that by the time you grab the SLR, the moon will have moved on and the shot will be gone.

So you do the only rational thing.

You sit still, take another drink of your adult cocktail and enjoy the the moon moving up behind the treeline ascending to its proper place in the heavens. You store the image in your head, just like your ancestors did for the preceding million years.

That was my evening.

When I came in and was cleaning up the kitchen the pup came in and had some swelling above one eye. I think he took a wasp hit or was bitten by something while we were out walking. He sticks his head in bushes sometimes so it’s possible he ticked off a wasp or bee.

He came to show me. I’ve washed his face with a cool damp rag, I cuddled him next to me on the couch for a while. As expected, the area is a bit sensitive but the cool rag seemed to sooth it.

I’ll have to keep an eye on it. If the swelling is gone or reduced by morning it’ll be fine otherwise I may have to take him to see the vet.

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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. 

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Something that made me smile…

In preparation for possibly selling the house, I’ve been cleaning closets.

The other half, God rest his soul was a heck of a packrat and had a habit of saving all kinds of paperwork in boxes, backpacks, shopping bags, and disused briefcases. Each one of which I must now open and determine from which epoc the paperwork within belongs.

That’s enough fun and I have found a lot of very strange things. I’ve also happened upon a treasure trove of CDs all of them classical music and none of them digitized. I’m at a complete loss as to why this would be. The resources to digitize and store all of his music on his computer, ipad, iphone or whatever were available. For some reason it just never got done and to the best of my knowledge I was never asked to do it or help. 

It’s one of those questions I’ll have to ask him when I see him next. I do hope that I can call him to the gates of heaven to chat for a moment or two before I’m put on the express elevator to hell. I doubt they’ll allow phonecalls between the two places and the long distance charges would be outrageous even if such calls were allowed.

Another part of cleaning out the closets has been dealing with the porn collection. There are quite a few videos we accumulated over the years. After the fire, we replaced a lot of what we originally owned on VHS tapes with DVDs or BluRays. As technology advanced and porn houses started offering their movies digitally I allocated a chunk of space on our server to store movies. I’ve also transferred many movies to the server, so that they are available on demand on virtually any device with a screen in the house.

As I was sorting movies from the shelf in the closet, I noticed a number of titles were not on the server and were not available for download from the production houses. So while going through the heartwrenching task of sorting or trashing things from boxes, bags, etc. I also began moving videos to the server. Once the DVD is on the server, I’ve been boxing them for storage and transport. 

This process has gone quite well. After moving the videos to the server, I decided to do a little quality check and so I told a player application to play the videos. I wasn’t watching them actively, I was spot checking as I walked something to the trash or checked on the dog.

The Dog will only allow me about an hour before he brings a ball in and drops it loudly next to my foot.

Anyhow, between laundry, sorting paperwork and the dog demanding that I play, I completely forgot about the videos playing on the TV in the bedroom. The volume was low and I was distracted. I’d returned to the front bedroom closet concentrating on the mountain of paperwork and odd bits & pieces of stuff collected over the past 13  years or so. 

I would ocassionally hear a voice, but couldn’t make it out, and thought that it was coming from outside the house. (The weather is nice so it’s routine for the crazy woman and her crazy man to be screaming at each other, one in the house and the other in the yard. Everytime they start up I first imagine an episode of COPS and then tune them out.)

Several hours pass as I’m digging through paperwork, playing with the dog, and tossing stuff into the recycle bin. During all this time I’ve been hearing voices and simply assumed it was the neighbors then cursed their classless nature under my breath…

Until one of the performers in a movie had a particularly loud orgasmic release.

Then I remembered the videos were playing in the other bedroom and found myself taking back all the unkind things I’d been thinking and muttering about the crazy neighbor and her mate.

So, Note to self, turn the volume up so I can hear the video playing the the other room, or turn the volume down and be happily surprised when I walk into the bedroom and see the porn is still running.

And now I’m off to throw the ball for the dog once again. I can’t deny him, but do think he’s mastered distracting me from the tasks that I need to accomplish.