Monday Morning Mish Mash

1. I called in sick today. I woke up feeling awful. (And, no, it is not residual damage from Saturday night, because I felt fine yesterday afternoon.) I got up, took a shower, had a cup of coffee and decided I just was not going to be able to go to the office today. So I laid back down to watch the Today show, and before I knew it I was asleep. And I woke up at NOON. A total of 15 hours of sleep last night. I hope it’s not the pig flu.

2. As I type this, Honey is on a boat floating around the Caribbean. At the beginning of the year, a friend who lives in Florida and who cruises frequently, invited us along on a six night cruise that was one helluva deal. I waxed and waned on whether to go, and finally told Honey to go without me. Now I am green with envy because as I sit at home, sick, in the rain, Honey is at port in Key West sipping Bloody Marys.

3. My little brother thinks he is hilarious. You call him, and the phone will ring a few times, and then you hear “Hey”, of course you respond, and then you hear him say “what’s going on?” or “how ya doing?” or something. Of course, you respond again. Finally, you hear “Just kidding, you’ve got my voicemail.” BEEP. And my stupid ass falls for it everytime.

4. I’ve managed, somehow, to drop a few pounds the past few months. The scale confirms this, but looking in the mirror, I can’t tell so much. But, apparently, I should have turned around because all the pounds have fallen off of my ass. How do I know this? I stepped up to the toilet the other day to answer nature’s call. Unzip, unbutton, and start the stream. And BAM my pants fall completely to the floor. So my workout routine has got to include some glute exercises (for all you ipod and iphone folks, there’s a great cheap app called “ifitness” that has record keeping logs, suggested workouts, etc. that I recommend)

Search Term Saturdays

I shouldn’t be surprised by anything anymore, but I still get some search terms that make my jaw drop. Following are two searchers with some odd ideas about what to do with “man parts.”

“i stuck my cock into the open toe pump”

Why? A four-inch heel might make you appear four inches taller, but it will not have the same effect on your johnson. And why did you enter this into a search engine? Were you trying to find others with a penchant for phallic footwear? Trust me, if it will fit, someone else has stuck it there. I suspect a good athletic shoe or flip flop might be more comfortable. But if you want to stick your weiner in weird things, I have just the thing for you. The $200 “RealTouch“–a new sex toy that I just heard about. You plug it into the wall and your computer, then plug yourself into it. Then you watch porn, and it syncs itself to what is happening on the screen–using different belts and machinery to simulate on you what you are watching. Very fancy! Of course, the idea of putting my wang into something attached to electricity and a bunch of moving parts is enough to make it crawl up inside me, but it sounds like it might feel better than a damned shoe. Come back and let us know if you try it.

“strange things put in the penis”

Can I just suggest that putting ANYTHING into your penis is strange? It’s a very small hole meant for discharging liquid, not taking in solids. You’ll end up at the urologists office with an embarassed look on your face, and they will not believe you just fell onto that uncooked string of linguine or whatever it is you  try shoving up there.

I’m Officially a Twit

Well I did it, I joined Twitter. I don’t exactly get the point…I mean, it’s just Facebook minus EVERYTHING but the status message, right? Anyhoo…feel free to follow me– my name there is “vinylvillager” (Always the clever one, aren’t I?)

TMI Tuesdays

It’s Time for another riveting episode of TMI Tuesdays!

1. Marriage and children aside, what has been your greatest accomplishment in life?

Lately, I feel like I  haven’t accomplished a damned thing. But, I suppose, given the nutcase that raised me, it was an accomplishment in and of itself just to grow up and turn out fairly normal. Probably not altogether a fair statement, since she wasn’t too nutty until I was already grown…but there ya have it.

2. Aside from healthy and happy children, what is your greatest ambition for the future?

Simply to make a difference.

3. If we were to enter your real name in a search engine, what would we find?

That I am an actor. That I am a painter. That I am an African-American football player. And that I am a southern gospel soloist. You would need far more time and patience than I have to find the real me.

4. Who is the most famous person you ever met (not just in the same room as, but actually spoke with)?

This sheltered small-town boy has never met anyone really famous. One of my best friends was an extra in the classic *snorts* movie “Waterworld” does that count?

5. Parents aside, who is your biggest hero?

My late grandmother was a remarkable woman, generations ahead of herself in terms of her attitudes. Easily the least judgemental, most open-minded person I have ever known. When life threw her a loop, she would dust herself off, make herself better for it, and leave the situation without any trace of bitterness or resentment. We could all stand to be more like her.

6. Someone once worked out the sexual version of Six Degrees of Separation – Celebrity A slept with B, who slept with C, who slept with D, making a sort of connection between A and D. Are you connected to anyone famous through six or fewer bonks?

Not that I am aware of. God, my life is dull.

Will You Be My Friend?

The Vinyl Villager has joined Facebook! I even have a fan club! (Albeit one with only one member–ME!)

Since the site seems to be growing in popularity, I thought it would be a fun way to stay connected with the folks who enjoy the blog.

If you’re on Facebook, just search for the Vinyl Villager or The Vinyl Village and add me as your bud or join the “Fan Club”.

Another Exciting Weekend

Well, if you kept up with the comments in my last post, you know by now where I spent my weekend. I’ll try not to prattle on like I did last week, but no promises!

Thursday night, I was in Charleston, SC for a big awards banquet and ceremony. A house I designed and decorated last year was chosen to receive an award, so I had the awkward task of getting dressed up to eat dinner with people I didn’t know and try to stay awake during speech after speech after speech. And when I say I didn’t know anyone, I mean that I knew absolutely NO ONE. And I went stag, which makes it all the worse! Talk about a boring and awkward evening.

It was somewhat last minute that I went to the ceremony. The invitations indicated “Black Tie Optional.” You know how I feel about ties…so it should be no surprise that I don’t own a tux, and there was no time to rent one. So I worried I would be underdressed. And, again, I was worried for nothing. Most of the men had dressed in a suit and tie like I did. But one older gentleman pulled out ALL the stops and came gussied up in a camouflage tuxedo. Everytime he walked past one of the big floral arrangements, he disappeared. It was an uncomfortable evening, but I got through it.

And then I went for drinks. Luckily, I have an old friend in Charleston, and I met him and a few others for a few shots and cocktails that made up for the unpleasantness of the rest of the evening.

The next morning, I headed to West Virginia. I picked this weekend to go for two main reasons (not that I ever need a reason to go home). For one, I had promised to go see my 6-year old godson (the Golden Boy) play in a basketball game. He joined a church league this year, and has been very excited to make new friends and the exercise and teamwork is, of course, great for him. And, two, it was Valentine’s Day and the honey had to go back to the outlaw’s house because Clyde got a new hip and Bonnie needed someone to help her take care of him. Valentine’s Day also marked the one year anniversary of my sister’s death, and I thought my crazy mama might need a shoulder.

The basketball game Saturday morning was great–the six year olds were amazing to watch. When one team was a member short, the other team offered up one of their players to round things out. When anyone fell, the others would stop to help him or her up, even if it meant missing a pass or an open shot at the basket to do so. (at what age do we lose that sort of humanity??).

The highlight of the weekend, though, was SNOWTUBING! My dad, little brother, the Golden Boy, another friend’s son (the Social Butterfly) and husband, and myself all went to Winterplace ski resort. Luckily, there was plenty of snow on the tubing runs–it has been unseasonably warm there the past week  or so, and I was worried we would be mudtubing!

The night before, I had gotten on youtube to show Golden Boy what snowtubing was. One of the clips we saw featured two bespectacled folks with heavy southern accents screaming and hollering as they rode down the mountain. Once we got to Winterplace, Golden Boy was on the lookout for “Those dorks we saw on the computer.”

It’s hard to say who had the best time–the kids or the adults, but before we knew it we had spent five hours riding down the hills. The kids were well behaved, the lines not too terribly long,  and we ended the day exhausted!

The Social Butterfly talked to EVERYONE he met in line…and when he and Golden Boy passed the time in line by making “THE BIGGEST SNOWBALL!” it gave him that much more to talk about–they were offering this huge snowball for sale to anyone willing to give “ten dollars” for it. With no takers, the Social Butterfly lowered the price to one dollar, while Golden Boy sought to give it some exclusivity by raising the bar to one hundred bucks. For the first few times in line, they made a new snowball–giving their creation away as our turn to go up the line drew closer.

At some point, they decided to keep building on the same snowball. It rode up the conveyor belt that carried us to the top of the hill inside one of the tubes, somehow managed to remain intact on the ride down, and was then added to as we waited in line again. The giant snowball, nicknamed “Garfield” by the Social Butterfly, waited outside while we had lunch, and probably made 10 trips up and down the mountain.

As we headed to the car, Golden Boy and the Social Butterfly had some disagreement about just who Garfield belonged to…and were convinced that it would ride home with us and continue it’s “life” in someone’s freezer. We were halfway to the car when I made them see that Garfield would be better off spending the rest of the winter on the slopes, where he might melt away come spring, run off into the creek, and continue the circle of life.

Only, the only accessible snow at that point was up a very steep embankment. My dad volunteered to take Garfield up the slope and tuck him under the fence at the end of the ski slope…but Social Butterfly insisted on going along to be the one who actually returned Garfield to the snow. After much slipping and sliding, which made a muddy mess of both of them, the giant snowball was reunited with the other snowflakes.

On Sunday, I had brunch with another old friend (the one who correctly “guessed” where I was in the last post–that cheater!), who had been telling me about  a place a half hour or so from our hometown called the Sedona Grille. Now, this particular part of WV is not known for it’s fine dining (not that any part of WV is)–and the place is in the middle of nowhere, in an unassuming building with a gravel parking lot. But, I had the most wonderful cucumber salad and sashimi tuna over noodles with peanut sauce. I was amazed that such good food could be found in such an unlikely place. If you’re ever skiing or whitewater rafting in southern WV, look that place up!

By now you’re probably thinking “Damn he is long winded.” And I am. But you might also be thinking, “didn’t he say he was going up for his mom? I am not seeing the expected story of her craziness here!”

Well, here’s why:

11 A.M. Friday, as I’m driving up, and after I’ve tried to call mom a half dozen times earlier in the week, she calls:

Mom: “Grandma said you’re coming home!”

Me: “I am!”

Mom: “Well, I don’t need you to. I’m fine.”

Me: “I’m coming anyway. I’m taking the boys snowtubing tomorrow.”

Mom: “Ok, well give me a call and let me know you made it.”

Me: “Well, want me to stop by when I get to town? We can go have dinner if you want.”

Mom: “Well, Doug and I were thinking we might go for a drive.”  Well alrighty then, I thought, a drive  that lasts all day? (Doug is her ex-husband turned sometime live in boyfriend whose previous marriage ended when he shot his wife. He and mom are on-again, off-again, but are apparently on again after he sold his prescriptions to pay her bills)

Saturday 9:30 AM

Mom: “Hey what you doin?”

Me: “Watching Golden Boy’s basketball game.”

Mom: “Whatcha doing later on?”

Me: “Going snowtubing, remember?”

Mom: “Oh that’s right, well I guess I’ll see ya in the morning.”

Me: “I’ll be done by dinnertime. Want to get dinner with me or I can bring something over?”

Mom: “Well, if I’m not asleep.”

Me: “Who goes to bed at 6 o clock?”

Mom: “I’m tard!” (not TIRED, tard) “Well call me when you’re done.”

So I did call, before 7 PM. I got the voice mail. I called the cell phone, and it went straight to voice mail, so it was obviously turned off. I left a message on both.

Sunday morning, before 8 AM, mom calls and leaves a message. “Hi! Just wanted to call and see what your  plan for the day is. Call me back.” Now, anyone who knows me knows that I do not get up before 10 on weekends. This has been the case as long as I have drawn breath, and will always remain the case. So, if you call me before 10, you know you will not get me.

When I woke up, about 10:15, I called her back.

After the usual hello and how are ya’s:

Mom: “I guess I won’t get to see you this time you’re in.”

Me: “Why not?”

Mom: “Well, when I didn’t hear from you, we just headed on down to Doug’s mom and dad’s house to watch the race.”  I don’t know what “race” she was talking about, but I’m fairly certain it didn’t start so early in the morning. (I should interject here that Doug’s mom and dad apparently can’t stand my mom. Mom has told me that when they go to their house for dinner,  Doug’s mom will serve everyone else the meat or chicken or whatever, but only give my mom a plate with the vegetables and bread.)

Me: “Well, if that’s your choice…”

Mom: “You’re just too hard to get ahold of!” I was livid! She had preferred on Friday night to ride around aimlessly in a beat up Pontiac, ignored my calls altogether on Saturday evening, and then called on Sunday when she knew she wouldn’t be able to get me on the phone, and then had the nerve to imply it was MY FAULT we hadn’t seen each other??

I’ve only got one thing to say to that:

Search Term Saturdays

This Saturday’s post is devoted to the penis. No part of the male body gets more attention. Billions are spent to keep it hard. Probably billions more spent to make it bigger. And, according to my search terms, billions of people spend too much time on the internt looking for it. So here we have it, a random spattering of penis-related search terms:

“sex and the city “man parts”"

First of all…if you’re such a prude that you have to refer to a guy’s junk as his “man parts” I have to question why you are searching for them. But who am I to judge. CLICK HERE to see what you were looking for. (Don’t click that around the kids, folks)

“cough so hard penis hurts”

I have had asthma. Bronchitis. Pneumonia. Allergies. Strep throat. You name it. And NEVER have I coughed so  hard it hurt my penis. Son, you shoulda gotten to a doctor weeks ago. Now that you’ve let it get this bad, there’s probably no option but amputation.

“woke up with penis pain”

Are there bruises or marks? Did you go to bed alone last night? The little feller isn’t indestrucible, you know…and some of those positions you see in movies or on the interwebs just aren’t possible without straining SOMETHING. Do you recall having a really good dream and suddenly rolling over onto your stomach? You coulda bent it a little. What kind of clothes do you sleep in? There’s nothing worse than getting it twisted in the hem of a pair of underwear as you toss and turn. See, you really ought to seek out a reason for the pain before you run off to the doctor and embarass yourself. If it keeps up though, best to see your MD.

“15 inch penis”

ummm…why? Morbid curiosity? I doubt such a thing exists in the human race. There are, of course, those who think bigger is better–but if this searcher is one of those I would urge them to go to their junk drawer, take out a measuring tape, and see that 15 inches from any orifice is deep into vital organ territory. I’ve heard it said that there is a fine line between “ooo” and “aaah” but I’m real damn certain that the line between “aaah” and stitches is crossed a long time before you get to 15 inches.

Of course, maybe the person who searched for a 15 incher should hook up with the person who wandered here by searching for:

“shrink penis” 

Well, I’ve never heard of a guy wanting to shrink his penis. Have you tried ice? A cool shower? Looking at naked pictures of Rosie O’Donnell? I guess a good question is why you’d want to. Is it creating an embarassing lump in your trousers? Try baggier pants. Is it floppin’ around when you workout? Invest in supportive undergarments. Do the other guys have a laugh in the locker room? They’re jealous. Screw ‘em. Is it uncomfortable for your sexual partners? Get ‘em drunk first. Or go down to the naughty shop and get an industrial grade lubricant.  And if none of that works, let me introduce you to Lorena:

Make Wal-Mart Shopping Fun!

I hate Wal-Mart with the heat of a thousand tanning beds. I might have more reasons than most people for finding the discount giant to be a boil on the butt of humanity. But, with times being tough and all, I might have to suck it up and go there for the low price. But, thanks to Big Hair Envy, shopping among the cluttered aisles might just be fun! Print this out for your next trip to Wally World:

Winner gets a treasure trove of Wal-Mart prizes, which may include: a gallon of milk that will go bad before you can get it home, a cheap China-made t-shirt that will turn to lint the first time through the dryer, wilted produce, a Bedazzler, or a signed copy of “Tall Bangs–Classic 80’s Hairstyles for the New Millenium”.

It’s Official…

I’ve long told stories about my crazy mom…if you’ve read any of them you’re probably convinced she’s a little nuts too…but now it’s official. She’s been admitted to the nut house.

Now, I don’t mean to make light of her situation–let me say that upfront. I don’t intend to poke fun at legitimate mental illness. I don’t even deny that she has a lot of things going on right now that make seeking professional help a not-so-bad idea.

A week or so ago, my sister’s headstone was set. It’s been eight months today since we lost her. The last time I was home, I tried to visit her grave and couldn’t find it. That’s a very odd feeling…walking aimlessly around the general area–hoping to see fresher grass, a funeral home marker, SOMETHING to let me know where she was. Then leaving, not knowing if I had walked right over top of her. Mom had a similar experience around the same time–had gone to visit the grave and couldn’t remember the names of those buried near her, so left not knowing if she had been to the right spot or not.

So, when I knew the stone was set, it was almost a sense of relief for me. I knew there was a place I could visit. Something that marked where she was…and in some way, that she had been here. Mom called, happy to report the stone was in place. I promised to have the florist put together something for the vase the next time I came home. The next day, mom reported making her own arrangement of “fall colors”, placing a teddy bear, a necklace, some sort of cross, and who knows what else on the gravesite. It sounded more like a yard sale than a memorial, but of course I left that to myself–and assured her that I would take care of getting a Christmas arrangement done for the holidays.

Around this time, and I honestly don’t know if it was before the stone was set or after…Mom reported visiting the cemetary (almost as common as “hello” in our conversations). It must have been late in the evening, because Mom reported being awakened after dark by a courtesy office patrolling the grounds who found her sleeping at my sister’s grave.

“I just felt like talking to her, and I sat down there and next thing I knew I had fallen asleep.”  she explained. I started to suggest that she might not want to visit the grave as often, for her own sake, but realizing that it may well give her some sort of comfort, I kept that to myself.

Last week, Mom called in tears. Being at the cemetary, seeing my sister’s name in bronze, along with the dates she had been on this Earth, had brought the reality of the situation home to her. I imagine I may react similarly when I see it for the first time. I listened, cracked a few jokes, and by the time we hung up, I felt like I had cheered her up some. A few days later, I hadn’t heard from her, so called to check in, make sure she was doing ok.

I didn’t get an answer. Later, when I didn’t get the usual “I saw ya on the caller ID.”  callback, I called my grandmother. She reported that mom was at the hospital…blood pressure through the roof.  Granny went on to say that Mom hadn’t stopped crying since Sunday (this was Thursday). I called the hospital, got through to Mom’s room…she answered in tears. Between sobs, she said they were going to admit her to the mental health ward once her blood pressure was under control.

I would say that was good…but my fear is that they will just give her more medication, and 90 percent of her current problems are overmedication as it is. A fistful of vicodin, valium, and who knows what else is NOT the cure for everything, despite what her doctors seem to think. I’m hoping she gets a different sort of doctor this time.

Monday Morning Mish Mash

1. Veep Candidate Sarah Palin tends to name her children unusual things. Let’s see there’s Relay, Roanoke, Geometry, Redwood, and Sunbiscuit. Or something like that. Now, some smart folks have come up with a Palin name generator. I’m Rock Crane Palin, a distant relative of the illustrious Paper Rock Scissors.

2. Might want to check your attitude before going out to eat…a tourist has been beaten to death by a gang of waiters for being “arrogant“.

3. I was out to dinner with a friend who had “Shazam” installed on his iPhone. As we were waiting on our table at P.F. Changs, a song came on and none of us could remember the name of it. He activated Shazam, held the iPhone up to “listen” to the crackly outdoor speaker, and seconds later it gave us the name and title of the song. Amazing stuff. I don’t know if it’s available for anything other than the iPhone, but if you ever get a chance to see it in use–do!

4. This morning’s motivational poster…it has a point, I promise–and it has nothing to do with giving head to fruit or practicing. It’s just that it looks like she is in my kitchen from college! Exact layout, cabinets, and appliances. I wonder if she was my neighbor?

5. I spent a lot of the weekend at my town’s annual fall festival–wherein about 40 local restaurants set up shop on Main street, offering appetizer-sized samples from their menu in exchange for tickets that can be purchased by the sheet for a few bucks. It’s a great way to try restaurants that I’d otherwise not be able to afford, would be too afraid to try, or would otherwise pass by. The best was a wonderful chicken and chorizo paella. Now, I’d never seen, heard of, or tasted paella before, but I will definitely try it anytime I see it on a menu now.