TV Guide

For those of you who didn’t know me as a child let me give you a little background on me. I grew up in a very small town in Alabama and that’s pretty much all that you need to know about this post. Don’t get me wrong, I love Alabama. Had some of the best times of my life in Alabama and some of the greatest people in my life are either in or from Alabama. But this particular post falls right in line with the stereotype.

So I grew up in a middle class neighborhood in a small town as I mentioned. And on the surface everything was pretty normal. But peel away a layer or two and the quirkiness of some of the people in the neighborhood starts to shine through.

You see there was this one family in our neighborhood that collected something unique, TV Guides.

I remember as a kid this family had a bookcase in their hallway that was just filled with TV Guides, years and years worth of TV Guides as a matter of fact. I remember asking my friend who lived there over and over again what was up with all of the TV Guides. No other publications, just TV Guides. And over and over again I would get some brush off answer about how his dad thought that they might be worth a lot of money one day or some other lame excuse.

And then one day a second bookcase showed up in the hallway. And week by week it slowly began to fill up with more TV Guides. One day I was hanging out and started to thumb through them. And there was nothing special about them. Nothing was hidden in them, the crossword puzzle wasn’t even started, nothing.

Then one day there was a police chase that came through our neighborhood where the guy who was running from the cops lost control of his motorcycle and crashed into the family’s car, catching it and then their house on fire. It was horrible, every issue burned.

The mystery of the TV Guides will remain unanswered for ever now. After a couple of months the house was rebuilt and for some reason the TV Guide bookcase was nowhere to be found. Of course I had to ask about them and of course I got a brush off answer, this time with attitude.

Then one day a couple of months later, a bookcase appeared in the hallway again. And placed on it was this cute little pair of TV Guides. YES!!!! Glorious TV Guides! Now I have something to bug my friend about.

At this point I couldn’t have cared less about the damn magazines or why they were keeping them, I just liked to bust their chops about them. So I go up to my friend and say that I see that the TV Guides are back and ask him what’s up with that.

If you are eating or drinking anything, you might want to go ahead and swallow it before you continue reading. It’s ok, I’ll wait.

So my friend says to me in a huff, and I quote, “My dad is keeping them because he thinks that toilet paper is going to go out of style. And when they quit making it we are going to wipe our butts with the pages of TV Guide.”

I shit you not, pun intended

- Don’t get dead

What’s been up with me

So it’s been a while since I last posted. And the post before that was a while back as well.

So what’s been up with me? I been freaking busy!

Haha, to give you a run down, I sold my house (full price in six days, thank you very much), packed and moved into a rental while I am building a new house, we had a kid a few months back. Baby #3, boy #2. And I changed jobs. Yep, in this time of economic uncertainty I changed jobs.

Speaking of getting a new job, I was reminded of an interview that I had right after I graduated from high school. To give you a little back ground, I grew up in a very small town, we are talking Mayberry here. And since it was such a small town everyone pretty much knew everyone. So there I am, recently graduated from high school, no job and not sure what I was going to do. Being the great parent that my mom was she pretty much pulled a few strings and got me an interview with a local company. The job was pretty much mine, I just had to go to the interview.

But here is the kicker, I didn’t want the job.

I don’t know why, but I just didn’t. But I was going to the interview for my mom. There I am in my suit and tie with my resume heading towards the interview. And I was simply dreading it. Then the little devil guy on my shoulder stopped by.

I get to the interview, check in with the receptionist and wait. When it’s my time I am greeted with a great big smile and a handshake. I hand my resume to the interviewing manager and our interview went a little something like this:

Interviewer: Have a seat

Me: Thanks

Interviewer: I appreciate you coming out on short notice.

Me: No problem, thanks for giving me an interview.

Interviewer: (looking over my resume) Um hmm, yes, so you just graduated from high school?

Me: Yes sir.

Interviewer: Very good. So are you going to go to college?

Me: Well, my plan is to go to school at night so that I can work during the day.

Interviewer: Excellent. So, tell me a little about yourself.

Me: (with a straight face) Man, I didn’t kill those people. I wasn’t even there that night.

Interviewer: (jerked and almost threw my resume almost to the ceiling) What?!

Me: Oh, you didn’t know about that. Never mind. Like I said I just graduated and I plan to major in…..

The interview didn’t last much longer.

When I got home I told my mom that I think I nailed it and I was expecting a call any time now. For some reason they chose someone else. I wonder why?

Don’t get dead

Adventures of the young and stupid

I have an older brother. For those of you who don’t have an older brother, that means that I had many, many roles growing up. I was a crash test dummy, test pilot, experimentalist, test subject and so on. In other words I was Jim and my brother was Marlin Perkins from Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom. Ever notice how Jim had to do the crap jobs while Marlin never got out of the helicopter? But I digress. In other words, I was Pinky while my brother was The Brain. In other words, it sucked!

Not only is Attila older than me, he is six years older than me. So yeah, my childhood contained a lot of ducking & weaving, scraps & bruises and a lot of psychological torture. To this day I still can’t sleep with my feet uncovered *shiver*. And this adventure would be more of the same.

When I was just a wee lad of only six years of age I had a hand-me-down Tonka truck, the big yellow dump truck. And it was made of steel, like toys used to be made, so that they lasted. Just like most young boys we made ramps to jump stuff with on our bikes. Any board we could find we would make into a ramp. On this particular day we had a piece of plywood that was maybe two and a half feet by two feet, not a very big piece of wood at all. This was soon to be a launching pad.

As my luck would have it, the only thing we could find to prop up said Evil Knievel approved projectile starter kit was a pair of concrete cinder blocks that just happened to be concreted together. So with the plywood laid on these cinder blocks the ramp is at about a 75 degree angle, nothing dangerous about that right?

Now we got the ramp, we just need something to jump it with. Remember earlier I was talking about a steel Tonka truck and I was talking about my brother being older and remember how I was talking about being the crash test dummy, you doing the math yet?

It was at an early age that I realized that my brother should have a career in politics. You see like every politician, my brother can lie with the best of them. He was pretty convincing this time. He says “hey, why don’t you sit in the bed of the dump truck and I will push you over the ramp.” Yeah, even at six I knew this was a bad idea. I told him that I didn’t want to do that. That’s what I told him, what I was thinking was why don’t you go F yourself! After a few minutes of discussing it, which went something like “do it or I’ll kick your ass and you BETTER not tell Mom”, I decided to give it a try. That is with the promise of he would just push me to the top of the ramp and if I didn’t like it he would not make me jump it. Yeah, I knew what was coming too.

So I go and sit in the bed of this big yellow death trap, staring at my fate. I get the truck lined up at the base of the ramp and say to my brother “Remember you said you would not make me do it if I don’t like it”. No sooner had the words “like it” come out of my mouth and ZOOM! Houston, we are clear for take off. In some sort of freak Herculean effort my 12 year old brother flung me up the ramp launching me skyward.

Right about this time I realized that we were under a pecan tree with low limbs. Mid-flight I am trying to get as low as I can will still gaining altitude, like an airborne limbo contest. One good crack on the head by a tree limb later and I am making my final decent.

Let me paint the picture for you. I was a normal sized 6 year-old and if you remember the bed of those Tonka trucks is about a foot wide. So I am sort of sitting across the bed of this truck, or should I say WAS sitting across the bed of it. When I slammed onto the ground the momentum that my body had decided to fill any space that was available in the bed of the truck, in other words I was stuck in this truck.

Oh yeah, he thought it was hi-freaking-larious. I on the other hand, failed to see the humor in it at the time. To this day he wonders why I don’t trust him. I can’t wait until we get old, payback is going to be hell.

Don’t get dead

Looking Back - Chapter 16

Before I get into this blog, I want everyone to understand that I have a VERY big soft spot in my heart for the handicapped, senior citizens, children and animals. I am by no way making fun of any of them, just telling a story that happened to me and making fun of myself.

As I may or may not have mentioned in the past, I have had a variety of jobs when I was younger. Dish washer, utility worker, lawn maintenance, peanut mill production line worker, banker, candle stick maker, Indian chief and so on.

One of those jobs that I had was a fill-in driver for a food service company, meals on wheels if you will. Most of our clients were senior citizen centers. Places where the able bodied senior members of society would gather Monday thru Friday. Usually they would play bingo and stuff like that. But in an effort to keep our business profitable we also took clients for day care centers & mental health facilities.

One this particular day I was working with a co-worker named Hector. Hector was teaching me the route, who gets what, how to load the truck in the order of the stops and so on. I liked Hector, he was cool, he had a great personality, liked jazz and loved women. We got a long well.

During the route Hector told me that we had a new client and that he was going to show me how to do an initial set up. When we get there I can see that it’s not a senior citizen center and I could see kids walking around, so I thought it was a day care. I was wrong.

Hector parks the truck and tells me to start unloading the stuff and that he was going to go in and find out where everything went and he would come back and get me. So I get everything off the truck and loaded onto a dolly. One thing that I didn’t mention is that it was August, which meant that it was as hot and muggy as Satan’s balls. After a couple of minutes I thought to myself, “screw this” and wheeled the stuff inside. Now I am standing in the very nice and cool air conditioned foyer of this school when I see this kid sitting on the floor and he starts to row a boat across the floor, but he isn’t in a boat. He is doing motions like he is rowing a boat and just scooting on his ass backwards across the floor. Ooookkkkaaay. As I am watching him row, I see another kid sitting on the floor leaning against wall. This young man is wearing a football helmet and has oven mitts duct taped to his wrist. I thought to myself, “Cool, they are at recess or playing a game”. I was wrong again. BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! HOLY SHIT!!! He just starts slamming his head against the wall, HARD! And then tries to unfasten the chin strap, which must have been the reason for the oven mitts.

It’s at this point that I am praying that these kids don’t gang up on me because I would have come through the wall like the Kool-Aid man! I hear that they can smell fear.

So I let out a loud yet subtle, “HHEECCTTOORR!!” A couple of seconds later he comes around the corner and says that he will show me where to set everything up at. Thank god, I thought I was a goner.

We make our way to the room where we are supposed to set up everything and he gives me the run down. After we get everything set up Hector asked one of the teachers if there was anywhere that he could get a drink and she tells us where a water fountain is and mentions that there is a soda machine in the teachers lounge too. Hector opted for the soda and we make our way to the teachers lounge.

When we got to the teachers lounge there was a little girl standing by the soda machine with her hands clasp in front of her with her head down and looking very morose. We thought maybe she had gotten in trouble or something so we were going to be extra nice to her to try to cheer her up. We both said hello to her and asked how she was doing and she didn’t move a muscle. In an effort to not be annoying to the girl we just decided to get a soda and go about our business. Hector walks over to the machine and puts his money in, makes a selection and BAM, this little girl lunges and grabs the soda and then pfffffttt just slobbers all over the top of it. Without missing a beat, Hector says to her, “Yeah, you’re right, that one is yours” and then goes into his pocket to get more change. He again puts his money in the machine and the little girl, BAM/pffffffttt all over this one too. Hector is visibly taken back a little bit and turns to me and says, “Hey man, you think you can run interference for me? I am running out of money!” So there I am standing there like I am trying to block a four foot Kobe Bryant so that Hector can get a drink.

A dollar fifty later and he drops the damn thing walking out of the room!

Don’t get dead

Trippin

I am by no means a saint. I know this may come as a shock to some of you, but sadly it is true. The reason that I am no saint is because I had one hell of a good time growing up. And by good time I mean we did a lot of bad shit. If this is news to you, you must be new to my blog. Trust me, go read my older post you will love them. And that’s one thing about my blog, the old post are still gold! But this post isn’t about my older post it is about one particular night while in high school. Let’s all pile into the way-back machine shall we!

One cool Saturday night in the winter of my senior year of high school I was on my way to a bonfire party. When I got to this party it was no surprise to see about 40 of my friends who I used to run with already at the party. Since I was a wee lad of only 17 years on this earth it should come to no ones surprise that the majority of us were consuming beverages that may contain a percentage of alcohol. Who am I kidding we would drink Scope if we couldn’t get someone to buy us booze. So anyway we were on our way to Shitfacedville, population all of us. Like I said, it was a Saturday night. Now this group that I used to run with liked to get a little wild and sometimes we might get a little loud and we might raise just a little hell every now and then. Shock, I know.

For what ever reason someone slipped a hit of acid or something into one of my buddies beers that night. Of course at the time we didn’t know this. Now this particular friend was a small guy, kind of quiet and didn’t really look for trouble but it always seemed to find him. Another little tid bit about this guy is that he is HORRIFIED by grave yards, funeral homes and hospitals. Anything to do to with death and dying freaks him out royally. Not to worry, I got a story about that too, but that is for later. So anyway this guy, whose mom was a nurse ironically, would just geek out being around funeral homes, grave yards and hospitals. I mean this guy could spot an ambulance a mile way. I have no idea where this comes from but it has always freaked him out ever since we were little.

Back to this particular night, we are at this party and he is acting a bit odd but hell I just thought his sack dropped and he finally hit puberty. But as the course of the night went on he keeps finding me and telling me that he feels weird and that we need to go. So I tell him to haul ass, he didn’t need my permission to take off, which was always followed by calling him a light weight or something like that. Yeah, I am a dick. So after a couple of hours of this he finds me again and tells me that we need to go. Of course I can’t be nice and concerned about my friend so I ask him, “what’s this “we” you speak of white man?” and tell him that I was fine just where I was. Around this time he pulls me away from who ever I was talking to and hands me his keys and says, “Take me to the hospital, I am freaking out”. Now he has my attention for two reasons. One, as I mentioned the whole freaking out about hospitals thing and two, he NEVER lets anyone drive his car.

As we are walking towards his car this girl that he has been sort of seeing yells for us to wait up and ask where we are going. My friend, not wanting to make himself look like a major pussy, says that we were just going to go for a ride and that he wanted to show me something that he did to his car. Nice job McFly, thinking fast on your feet. *BOOM* did you hear that? Yeah, that was the sound of his plan backfiring. She wants to go with us. You have heard of non-verbal communication before right? Well his face screamed “oh fuck” if there ever was an “oh fuck” face. I tried to interject and tell her that we would be right back but she still wanted to go. Sorry fuckface, I tried. So he quietly ask for his keys back and sort of shuffles to his car. Now I am torn, while I am a bit concerned about my fried and his safety/health, the thought of watching him suffer through trying to not geek out in front of some chick he was trying to nail was going to be to much to pass up. “Shotgun” I called but was rejected because of that damn Y chromosome. Fine with me, the cooler is in the back anyway. So we are on our little trip down a very dark country road when all of the sudden in one swooping move lasting about a split second, my buddy throws the car into neutral, jerks up the parking brake, opens the door and bails out like a fucking paratrooper while the car is still moving. HOLY SHIT! What the fuck was that all about? Where the hell did he go?! All of that went though my mind in about one millisecond. Oh the chick, she was just screaming her ass off. So there I am steering this car from the back seat wedged between the front seats with this bitch piercing my ear drums with one long continues note.

Finally after what seemed like 20 miles the car stops and I figure out how to let myself out of this two door car from the backseat, oh and the girl, still screaming. About the time that I finally get out of the car, my buddy comes walking up like it was nothing. So I ask the fall guy, “dude, what the fuck was that all about” and he calmly replies, “oh nothing, I thought that I felt a bug on my arm”. You go airborne ranger out of a car on me while doing 40 miles an hour when I am in the back seat and it’s “nothing”. If ole Janet Leigh back there hadn’t given me a migraine I would kick the crap out of you here and now. Get you monkey ass back in that car now. No sooner had he got back in the car and started turn the key had he flinched and jumped out again. Come to fine out, it was the air conditioning blowing the hair on his arm that he was feeling. Ok numbnuts, time for a new driver. Of course instead of his buddy who he had known for almost his entire life, he ask this squish to drive. Fine, the cooler is still back here even if the beer is a bit shaken up after that little Robbie Knievel stunt back there, plus it’s your interior so what do I care if I spill a little beer.

During the course of this little road trip he cleverly gives her directions back towards town. What he also did was start to relax a little bit which in turn caused him to fuck up his cool. You see, since he started to relax, he forgot that the girl didn’t know he was freaking out.

As we are getting closer to the hospital I notice that every so often my friend would spastically change the radio station. We would be listening to one station and then as one song would end he would franticly start hitting the seek button, finally settling on a station. Then he leans back, exhales a big breath and I see him start to tap his foot. After this series of events happened a couple of times I asked him, “Dude!” (giving the WTF look) and he looks back at me with this crazy face. “What’s with you freaking out on the radio” and he says, “I have to keep finding a station that has a song playing”. To which I asked, “Why?” and he tells me that he has to tap his foot to the beat of the music to keep his heart beating and that every time that the DJ would talk or if they played a commercial he would loose the rhythm and he might die.

This would be the exact moment when the girl looks over at him, much like Stiffler from the “American Pie” movies, and says, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

I almost flooded his car with urine as I was laughing so hard.

Now he has to explain the whole thing to her and somehow save face with her. Not only did he pull this off, he managed to talk her into circling the hospital for at least a half hour. I finally told them that I had had enough of this bullshit and that they needed to take me back to my car or find someone to buy us more beer. Fortunately, the girl felt the same way, well about the having enough of this bullshit part and decides to drive back to the party, have her girlfriend follow her to his house so that she could drop him off and then they would go home too. Good times!

Don’t get dead

Looking back – Chapter 14

Earlier at my office we were talking about the change of season and what we enjoy about it. Allergies for some, pretty leaf colors for others and so on. Then I got to thinking about it and for me, it is lower electric bills. So we were talking about how it is nice to have the windows open and so on, which of course sparked a memory from my childhood. For any of you who don’t know, I grew up in a very small town in the south and I feel that may be a contributing factor to my skewed views on things.

So for a little back ground on this memory, as a child/young adult (hell to this date if I am in my home town) I had a friend whose family insisted that I visited them (his parents and both sets of grandparents) during both Thanksgiving and Christmas. So to say we were close is a given. And since we lived in a small town we all saw each other a lot. Back in those days it wasn’t any big deal for people to watch the children of friends, and since my buddy’s grandmother was retired she did just that when we were over.

Also important in this memory is that it was a warm summer day and, as most people in my home town were/are, my buddy’s grandparents where a bit frugal. So when the weather permitted his grandmother would open the back door of her house which leads to a screened in patio with a humongous fan, like a huge warehouse fan. And she would use the fan to blow air through the house to cool it as opposed to using the window unit air conditioners. If you were to walk into her backdoor you would be in a small storage room where she kept dry goods and a deep freezer, from there you would walk into her kitchen, this comes into the story in just a bit.

Now my friend’s grandmother was in her late 60’s early 70’s at this time, her hearing was not the best and she moved a bit slower than she once did but she was a super great woman.

So there my friend and I are in his grandmother’s backyard playing. I am sure at some point we were playing war, I would guess that playing cars occurred at some point and many other things that boys do to entertain themselves. At some point we worked our way over to grandma’s vegetable garden. She had a lovely garden with a ton of tomato plants in her garden. My friend and I thought it would be funny to throw some tomatoes into the fan to watch it chop them up so we gathered as many tomatoes as we could in our shirts and made our way over to the fan, probably about 15 feet or so away. Now we were expecting to see this thing blow tomato chunks everywhere, but that’s not what happened. My buddy chucked the first one into the fan and it disappeared. We thought he had his timing just perfect and must have missed one of the blades so I heaved one into the fan and the same thing. So we devised a plan that we would BOTH throw tomatoes into the fan at the same time because there was no way that we could both time it just right. So tomato after tomato we launched them into this fan and … NOTHING.

About this time my buddy’s mom pulls up to the grandmother’s house and lets herself in. What she saw was her mother slumped over the sink with all of this red stuff all over her back and the back of her head and this red liquid dripping off of her. Thinking that her mother had been shot, his mom let out a blood curdling scream and we hauled ass inside to see what was going on.

What really happened was my buddy’s grandmother went into the storage room to get some stuff to make for lunch and apparently as she was walking out and doing stuff in the kitchen we where just covering her with tomato puree, which is why they tomatoes just disappeared into the fan. And the reason that she was slumped over the sink is because she was peeling potatoes.

I am not 100% sure, but I think that I am still on restriction and I know my ass was sore for a long time.

Don’t get dead

Last Night

I did something bad last night, really bad.

When I came home from work yesterday I went and cut the lawn and did a couple of things that needed to be taken care of outside. So after the lawn work was done and I got to a point on my outdoor projects that I was satisfied that I was at an acceptable stopping place so I went and sat on the back porch to relax and enjoy the fruits of my labor.

For some reason, I felt the need to start a fire.

Don’t worry it was in my fire table. In case you don’t know, a fire table is an outdoor coffee table with a pit (for the lack of a better word) that you can light a fire in.

So there I am in the back yard with all of the exterior lights out, a fire burning and enjoying a nice drink.

And that’s when it happened.

I started to daydream just a little bit and decided to enjoy some music. I went to get my iPod and had this uncontrollable urge to listen to a mix of classic rock and southern rock. As I am gazing into the flames with a nice gentle breeze blowing I started to reminisce. I am sure that the memory inducing sounds of Boston, Bad Company, The Black Crows, Y&T, Autograph 38 Special, The Eagles & The Allman Brothers didn’t contribute to this preverbal trip down memory lane. But it was the first handful of notes and the words “Turn it up” of Lynard Skynard’s “Sweet Home Alabama” that kicked this trip into overdrive.

So there I am thinking back to bonfire parties at Jason Jones’ house, Chad (whose last name escapes me right now) land, the old Barn, the clay pits, Hollywood or any of the other places that we used to hang out at back home.

My mind couldn’t help but to think back to a multitude of Friday or Saturday fall nights with 30 – 50 of my best friends circling some form of burning wood, be it pallets, a tree that someone cut down or God knows what, with someone’s car stereo playing The Eagles’ “Seven Bridges Road” with almost everyone singing along. Of if I only had a tailgate to sit on at that time…

As this stroll through the outer banks of my memory continued, I can clearly remember talks of either the next day’s or that day’s SEC game and the friendly bickering back and forth between fans of rival teams. And I can remember knowing that if you saw this person, that person was either at the party or would be there shortly. So I guess I was getting a bit home sick.

That’s when it happened. As I looked back to the people in those memories I would this about this person or that person or this couple and then I would remember, oh they aren’t together and this person isn’t alive any more oh and I haven’t seen this guy in …. wow 15 years, I wonder what they are doing now and so many other things went through my mind.

And as I was looking back at some of the best memories of my life, I realized that life has moved on. And not that people have changed necessarily but that life has changed. And even though I am happy for everyone, I got a little sad for a moment thinking about how those are just memories now. Those times are no more. Not that the people are gone, but the situations are gone. No more will we be able to rally the troops for those great parties that we used to have. Of course I should be one to talk considering that I live half way across the country now. But what I would give for one more.

One more time where all of those faces would be there again. Once more, where we could all enjoy those laughs one more time. Just one more time to just see everyone, as we were, living the greatest lives known to man.

I know that they are just memories now, but I cherish them.

Don’t get dead

Shrooms!

Over the Labor Day weekend we have a shrimp boil and one of the things that I like to add to my shrimp boil is mushrooms. During the course of the day there was some conversation over mushrooms and of course it reminded me of a story or two.

While living in Virginia I went to see Pink Floyd in concert (F’ING AWESOME show, RFK stadium in D.C. sold out for three nights in a row, yeah, it was killer). While we are tailgating and prepping for the show this guy walks by the group of us who were going to the show together and says to this one guy in our group, “Hey big man… shroooooooommms”. My friend looks at me and gives me this WTF look. I said to him, “You can eat them and trip and some people make tea out of them to drink and trip”. He turns to the door-to-door fungus salesman and says, “You better get the fuck away from me man” to which the toadstool trader replied with his hands out in front of him, “it’s cool man, it’s cool!” and walked away.

So my friend asked me, people really eat mushrooms and hallucinate? I told him yeah and that they have to be special one’s which grow out of cow manure. The look on his face and the response was classic. And I quote “You mean to tell me people eat mushrooms out of cow patties?!” After I wiped up the beer that I shot out of my nose I told him yeah, those are the ones. I went on to tell him about how you can make tea with them and get the same effect and so on.

After talking about this people usually ask me the same question, “How do you know about this?” To which I tell them that I am a junkie. Of course I’m not, I am a saint! My halo should be here in 6 to 8 weeks :). Back to how do I know, which is another story.

Back home, while in high school I was at some party that God only know who was throwing out in some double-wide in the middle of nowhere. How I got there, why I was there and what possessed me to go to said function are irrelevant to the story. But I am there and as fate would have it there are chicks there, chicks who I have not met yet so they have no idea how big of an asshole I am yet, sweeeet!

So I see this guy that I know sitting on this washer (or dryer, not sure which one and didn’t really care) in this hallway of sorts in the middle of this double-wide doing what appears to be talking to two girls. Upon site of this I knew that I must put a stop to this right away. Oh yeah, the intentional cock-block, the very worst kind.

But as I got closer I realized that he wasn’t talking to them and it looked like his head was looking back and forth down the hallway, but just once. He would look to his left and then to his right and then mumble something.

Just in case he was about to strike up a conversation with these girls, I decided to nip it. So I stroll over and start to chit-chat with these girls, purposely putting myself between the Maytag man and the girls. After a few minutes I look over and see this dude sweating like he wrote bad checks and looking down the hallway to his right and then down to his left and ask him what he is saying, to which he mumbles something about not talking to me. Oookay. Back to talking to these chicks. A few minutes later I notice his head turn to the left and then to the right which was followed by something that was in inaudible. So I ask this guy what he said again and again I get some form of an answer stating that he is not talking to me. Ok, and again back to talking to these girls. The third time that I notice this slow head turn one direction and then the other followed by some mumbling, I look over and say “what?” and he says “I am not talking to you!” So I had to ask “Who the F are you talking to then?!”.

You know, in all of my years on this planet, I have only heard this response one time. And if I gave you 1,000 guesses, you probably wouldn’t guess what his response was.

His response was “Kermit the Frog”. Which was followed up with, “the S.O.B. walked by me three times before he ever said anything to me”.

All I could muster was “Ho…Wha... HUH?” “What do you mean Kermit the Frog, are you a fucking idiot?!” Now these girls don’t know to be scared or laugh and I am embarrassed that I know this fool. He then continues by pointing at a spot of the floor which is where he assumed Kermit was and then I guess he snapped out of it because he looked puzzled and couldn’t find Kermit, or Miss Piggy or Gonzo or even Animal for that matter. So this tool has my full attention now. I mean you got to right. How do you pass up something like that? And I asked him out right, “Are you retarded or something?” And he gets pissed at me, like I am the one who is talking to puppets that aren’t there. PUPPETS!! Not a dog or a fictional character from a movie or a dead person, no he thought he was having a conversation with cloth and foam! But I am the a-hole for questioning him on this.

After talking to him for a bit we find out that he has sucked down almost a half gallon of mushroom tea. This is when I found out all that is shroom tea and of its magical powers.

Of course the rest of the night we told him that Snuffaluffagus was looking for him and that he was going to kick the crap out of him. Why not pick a puppet that only Bigbird could see right?

Don’t get dead

I need a vacation

Yep, I need a place to get away, a place to escape it all, a place to relax, a place to leave my worries behind. Somewhere that is stress free, somewhere that all you have to do is be there, somewhere where everyone is smiling and having fun. A vacation that regenerates, a vacation that puts a smile on ones face, a vacation that you would cherish for the rest of your life.

But we all know that shit aint going to happen.

I tell people that we don’t have vacations, we have adventures. And there is always a story to tell.

Just like this one trip to Panama City Beach. It was the usual crew of us headed down to the Redneck Rivera for a week of fun in the sun, some sub-tropical nightlife, a little relaxation and a whole lot of being …what is the word I am looking for … mischief!

Let me lay the ground work on this trip. Our sole purpose on this trip was to get hammered, past that we had not thought it out. We knew that we needed clean underwear and beer, everything else was a luxury. We had secured a room at one of the miracle strips finest establishments, but only because someone in our party knew someone or something. I don’t remember exactly what floor we were on but it was once of the upper floors, oh and this hotel was shaped like on open parenthesis “(“. This part plays an important role later on.

On the day we leave we all met at one of the groups’ house. From there we all loaded up the convoy of vehicles that where about to make the trip south and we headed out. About an hour and a half later we were there and ready to get this party started. We check in, get the keys and start to “relax”. And most of this trip was great, except for one night.

On this particular night as the sun was beginning to set we were hanging out on the balcony of the room and just being social with other people in the hotel. Shortly pretty much everyone in the hotel was on their balcony. There were a bunch of guys getting this girl across the way to flash everyone and some people a couple of floors down from us had a funnel/beer bong made out of three garden hoses and they were passing it around from rooms to rooms. It was huge. They made it from three 25 foot hoses, two of which where at the top connected to the bottom hose with one of those Y shaped hose connectors. The top two hoses had these big funnels attached to the hoses and the bottom hose had this shut off valve, it was pretty cool. So yeah, there was a bit of drinking going on. Then everyone’s attention turned to the pool, there was this guy who would get everyone really loud and then he would run and do a flip into the pool. Then he would get out drink some more, get everyone loud again, run and do a flip into the pool. This went on for a while and then you see patio chairs flying into the pool. Not to worry, it’s not getting out of hand or anything, just those chairs needed washing. And apparently a lot of other people thought that their chairs needed washing too because they tossed their chairs in too. Then for some reason people started to throw food into the pool. That was weird. We saw eggs and hotdogs and all kinds of crap come flying off of various balconies.

My guess is that at this point the management of the hotel was not very happy. A few members of the hotel staff came out to the pool area and tried to get everyone to calm down to no avail. I will give them credit, they tried.

After the hotel staff left a rousing cheer came from all of the balconies as if we had defeated some huge force. When in fact it was 500 drunk kids trying to be calmed by 6 people. At that point the odds weren’t in the staff’s favor. Back to just general rowdiness and chest thumping!!

After a few minutes local law enforcement showed up. We knew something was up by the way that the people on the first two floors balconies shoot into their rooms at light speed. Four or five sheriffs’ deputies are in the pool area sort of half-heartedly trying to get us to calm down which really did very little. They had a little pow-wow on the pool deck and then it looked like they just split up and walked around with one arm up in the air each and then… well they just left.

Again a rousing cheer comes from the group. But then, as if it was choreographed, floor by floor people were ducking into their rooms.

Remember the part about the hotel being shaped like ( <- that? And that this hotel was on the beach? Well the wind blows from the water to the beach and it would blow right up the hotel. So if someone say, sprayed something it would carry UP the hotel. So yeah, they mace’d us. Floor by floor you see people ducking into their rooms and shutting the doors. When it hit us it wasn’t as bad as it could be but it was enough to make us cough and our eyes and nose burn. But, but, but, but there were more of us than there was of them, how did this happen? Damn physics!

Don’t get dead.

www.ItAintEasyBeingSweezey.com

Storms

For the last week or so the Dallas area has been getting hit with some pretty heavy storms. Which is great, I love storms. But last night was a doozy. Something woke me up about a quarter to 3 or so this morning and as I lay there trying to get back to sleep I could tell that the wind was really picking up and shortly after the severe weather sirens were going off. Since I had been asleep I turned on the television to see what was going on. Line of storms, rotating winds, hail, blah blah blah. So we go get the kids and put them in our bed and I went into the game room to watch the news and see what was going on as the kids were going back to sleep. About this time the electricity goes off. Well this sucks, I am up in the early hours of the morning, it’s storming out and I am wide awake. It is about this time that I felt the call of nature. So as I am making my way to the bathroom in the pitch black of night during a storm I started to chuckle. The following story is why.

Spring Break come hell or high water, almost literally.

Way back around the time that I was in high school a group of us decided that we were going to go to the beach together and all went in on a beach house. If memory serves, there were about 8 of us staying in this house. Most of the week was great, typical spring break stuff, being loud, drinking, hanging out on the beach by day and partying by night.

Then one day the skies got cloudy and kind of dark and the winds picked up. Guess we will be partying indoors this afternoon. Somehow about 30 people ended up in our beach house but who cares right? Someone crank up 97.7 FM – Pirate Radio! And that’s when I heard it, that annoying ass beeeeeeeeeeppppp tone. What is this crap, right in the middle of “Alive” by Pearl Jam, that’s just wrong. Oh, it’s some weather crap, oh wait what’s that they are saying, a tropical something-another is headed our way, it’s what? Like a small hurricane? Oh ok. And then boom, lights go out. Well shit! Fortunately the boom box we were listening too had good batteries in it, because Pirate Radio was rockin that afternoon. It was at about this point that someone made the announcement of “Do NOT open the refrigerator unless you KNOW that you are going to get a beer out”, got to keep the beer cold you know, priorities and all that.

So the wind seems like it is whipping up around 100 MPH, the rain is going sideways and it is pitch black outside at 3:30 in the afternoon with the occasional lightning strike that seemed like it was hitting the house. But the beer is still nice and cold, we are going to be ok.

Someone found some candles, god only knows where but they did. But we didn’t really need candles, the light from about 30 cigarettes all light at the same time actually put out a decent bit of light. Man the inside of that house looked like London.

So we got a miniscule amount of light, a few dozen “young adults”, beer o’plenty, enough smokes to go around and oh yeah, this weather thing going on outside. HURRICANE PARTY!!! Oh hell yeah.

In case you didn’t know, youth + alcohol + beach – parents + wicked weather – common sense = narrowly escaping death.

About this time I see this girl who we will call “Mandy” making these fidget motions. At first I thought she was dancing or something. I keep watching her and after a while I notice this grimace on her face. So I walk over to her and ask her if she’s ok. To which she replies “No”. So I asked her what was wrong and she gives me the brush off answer of “nothing, it will be okay”. Alrighty then, spaz on. As I go to walk back over to where I was she grabs my arm and ask me if I know when the power is coming back on. Well, I am good but I can’t really predict the future. So I just tell her that I am sure it will be soon and ask her why. She does this shimmy/shake/fidget move again and leans in and whispers to me “I got to pee”. Okay, what the hell does that have to do with the power coming back on, go pee. So then it hit me, she can’t see. So I offer to help her and tell her that I can hold a candle or something for her.

This is where it gets humorous to me.

She gives me a stupid look and says “No, that’s not it”. So now I have to ask because I have to know. I lean in towards her and say “well what is it then?”, she looks me dead in the face and says “Well the toilet wont flush if the power is out”.

Now I got to find a mop because I just spit out the beer I was trying to drink. I am guessing that my reaction might have tipped her off to the invalidity of her assumption and she follows that up with “will it?”

Oh yeah, that’s right, we got those new plug in toilets. Good point.

Please god let her be sterile.

Don't get dead

Looking back (Chapter 13)

Christmas and New Years have come and gone. Other than some snow, everyone is pretty much looking forward to warmer weather. I think the first sign of warm weather has got to be spring break.

Ah yes, gobs of young people pouring just as much alcohol down their stupid throats as they possibly can, getting into fights, destroying property that is not theirs, having sex with anything that they can have it with (consciousness is probably optional), and just general rowdiness and civil disobedience. They should probably change the name to wholesome family break or something like that.

Years ago I would have been right in the middle of it.

The spring break of my (I guess it was) sophomore year of high school was no different. Myself and three of my friends roll down to Panama City Beach in one of my buddies cars with the tinted windows, rims, and stereo that everyone in the county could hear … at the same time … regardless of where you where in the county … whether you wanted to hear it or not. And my heap.

I remember being so pumped up about it that I think that I smoked a whole pack of cigarettes on the just over an hour drive down. There we are four guys, two cars, about 8 ½ cases of beer, a change of clothes or two each, a couple of hundred bucks in cash each, headed south for the weekend.

We get to the Redneck Rivera, find our hotel, get checked in, and crack open a few. You ever have that feeling that you may want to take things easy because the possibility of an ugly turn is imminent? That feeling came over me like the tide coming in over the sand. Fifteen minutes into being in the room and they are each about four beers down and showing no signs of slowing down and I just knew something, something bad, was on the horizon. I will be dammed if I wasn't right too.

We hang out in the hotel room for a while when two of them, Red and Jay, decided that they want to go rambling. Mark, the other guy who drove and never lets anyone drive his car, didn't want to go so Red and Jay are stuck with using their Jerusalem cruisers to get around. They take off and Mark and I are hanging out in the hotel and talking about what we were going to do over the weekend. After a while I notice the slurred speech which is prelude to an event filled afternoon. Homeboy is about half a case in and feeling no pain when he announces that he needs to use the facilities or as he put it "need to piss". Let me give you the layout of the room, it is a rectangle with two queen beds and a square bathroom that looked to be put in after the fact which was right by the front door, typical cheap beach hotel room. Mark makes his way to the restroom does his business and makes his way back to the main room when he proclaims that he hates the hiccups which he now has a case of. He keeps asking me what can he do to get rid of them and I guess he thought that if he asked me 1,001 times that I may get some sort of revelation and change my answer from "I don't know" to something else. But alas, he was wrong.

It is about this time that Mark is good and hammered and proclaims his hatred for bugs. Okay… not sure what that has to do with anything but good for you homeboy. I was about to find out why he was informing me of this displeasure of bugs existence. He thought he saw one so he balls up his fist and punches the wall and what he "thought" was a bug on the wall. What he actually saw in his drunken stupor was the shadow being cast by the sunlight hitting a nail that was left in the wall and painted over. Ever be around a drunk who has just hurt himself? You would rather have a colonoscopy, which has to be less painful than having to deal with all of the bitching and moaning. Now I have a drunken dude running around the room bleeding all over the place and griping about hiccups and the phone rings. Who in the hell could that be? It is Red and Jay wanting me to come pick them up from a local shop because they are tired. Yeah, I will get right on that. But I get to feeling sorry for them and decide that I would see how drunk Mark was. When he said it was okay if I took his car to go pick them up I knew he was plowed. Mark goes to get me his keys and slips in some of the blood he spilled on the floor and bangs his head on the floor. So now I know that I have to find some way of restraining him so that he doesn't hurt himself. I had to get both of the flat sheets off of the bed, tie them together and use them to tie Mark to the bed. Once I feel that is he not going to be a danger to himself I get the keys and head out the door. When I get to where the gruesome twosome tells me they are going to be waiting for me, they are gone. I go in and ask the clerk if he had seen them and he tells me that they split about 20 minutes ago. Assholes! So back to the hotel I go. When I get there I find Mark passed out, thank god!

I am just hanging out in the hotel room for a while when the phone rings again and it is Jay and Red again, wanting me to come get them none the less. I tell them to stay put and I will go get them but it will be a little while because of the traffic on the strip. By the time I get to where they say they are again they are gone, well F them. No more feeling sorry for them. But I was getting a bit hungry and I did spy a Mickey D's nearby. So I roll over to it where I notice my cousin's car. I find a place to park and go in to talk to my cousin. After talking to him for a while I got some food to go and for whatever dumb-ass reason I wanted a chocolate milkshake. As I make my way to the car I put my milkshake on the roof of the car so that I can get the keys out of my pocket, unlock the door, toss the bag of food in the car, get in and make my way through the parking lot. At this particular location there is a wide shoulder on the road that local law enforcement uses when traffic is heavy on the strip, this is about to come into play in this story. There I am making my way through the parking lot and I notice that a lot of people are looking at the car, I just thought that it was because of the car. So I am just about to pull out into the street when a cop comes hauling down the shoulder and I slam on the breaks so that I don't get in his way. This is when, unbeknown to me, the milkshake that I accidentally left on the roof of the car falls over and spills onto the windshield of the car. Not realizing what it was I said "what the hell kind of bird was that?!" Then I see the cup rolling on the ground. Oh great, I am an idiot. Now I got to find a car wash. Which I did, and now I am on a mission to have this stupid milkshake. I make my way back to McDonalds and take advantage of the drive-thru so that I don't make the same mistake. Now I am happy, have my milkshake, inside the car, and actually made my way back onto the strip. But traffic is heavy so it may take me a while to get back to the hotel, oh well guess I will have to enjoy cruising and cranking up some pirate radio for a while.

During this particular spring break there were cops everywhere, like every eighth mile or so. Really cracking down I guess. So I see one near me, turn down the stereo and try to act cool. He sees me drinking and ask me what was in my cup. To which I replied a milkshake and asked him why he was asking. He said they are looking for people drinking and driving and asked if I would mind if he checked my drink. No, I don't mind and hand him my cup. He opens the lid, looks into it, takes a sniff and thanks me and hands it back to me. Okay, no big deal. So I get a little farther down the road and I see another cop, but this guy doesn't use the same approach. He looks at me and says "What's in the cup boy" to which my pompous ass thought "boy?!" but the part of me that didn't want to get harassed by the cops stepped in and said just shut up and be nice. So I tell him it's a milkshake and that his buddy just checked it. He asked "Do you mind?" and motioned for me to hand him the cup. Which I did and he TOOK A DAMN SIP OF MY DRINK! I couldn't believe it. What an a-hole. Then he hands it back to me. Yeah, like I am going to drink it now. Out of involuntary actions I hold the cup out of the window and the cop tells me that it is a $150 fine for littering. This milkshake deal was not meant to be so I had to let that one go.

I make my way back to the hotel, park the car, and go to the room. But I can't open the door all of the way, like something was behind it. What the hell. Oh god, it is Mark's drunk ass passed out in the doorframe of the bathroom blocking me from opening the door to the room. So I get him up and into the room where I can see that he has started drinking again, pretty heavily I might add. So I get him to sit on the bed and try to clean up when he says "number 7" and trots off back to the bathroom. Number 7?, what does that mean? He says it's the number of times that he has thrown up and lets me know that the substance that I am cleaning up with the towels is barf… damn, thanks dude.

About this time the sun is starting to go down and the social life is starting to heat up. I am sure that Mark is somewhat more sober at this point but still not Red and Jay. As luck would have it, they called the room again, wanting to be picked up again. I let them know that I will get right on it and tell Mark what they wanted. F them was his reply, sounds good to me. But he is hungry now and way to drunk and scared of cops to drive so I have to chauffeur him around. We find a burger joint that he wanted to go to but he insisted that we go in. So there we are standing in line to get our food to go *eye roll* when I notice that the guy working the counter in the line that we were in was handicapped and that Mark "weirds out" about things like that. But we are so close to the register and there is no way that I am going to get in the back of another line to buy food that I am not going to enjoy. No sooner had I realized what was going on when I see Mark get the big eyes and looks over at me. In an effort to keep him from making an ass out of himself and embarrassing me at the same time I tell him "just be cool, just be cool" to which he replied with "don't let him touch my food Sweezey, don't let him touch my food" I reassured him that he wouldn't and that the people in the back are cooking the food and that he was just taking our money for it. We get his food and head back to the car. Drunky Drunkenheimer sitting in the passenger seat of his car with the door open, takes one bite out of his food and then dumps it out in the parking lot stating "dude, he touched my food, I can taste it" What ever, let's just go back to the hotel.

We get back to the hotel and head towards our room when I realize, hey someone is having a party… in our freaking room!!!! I walk into the room where some slack-jaw greets me and tells me to help myself to a beer and points to a cooler, my damn cooler with my damn beer in it. Everyone in the room was drinking my beer. GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY ROOM!!! People got pissed when I kicked them out, until I told them that I had called the cops, at which they all thought it was a good time to take off, hmm, wonder why? Just goes to prove that drunk kids are stupid, like I would call the cops to report underage drinking in my room because they were drinking my beer, while I was 16, morons.

Ozarkizms

As we are in full swing of the holiday season and Christmas cards from loved ones start to roll in I take this opportunity to reflect back on the holidays. Which often leads me to thinking about family, in turn I begin to think about home.

Ozark is kind of like the TV show Cheers, on acid. Where everyone knows pretty much everyone else, even if they don't acknowledge each other. So after telling some of my stories I have a lot of people who want to go and visit the Land of Oz, I think simply in disbelief. But that is a different story. What I am doing here is a simple reference of Ozarkizms. Think of this as one of those Forbes travel books. These are sayings or phrases that may be heard while in Ozark.

Let's start with some of the social gathering locations.

"The Stop Sign" - Yes, we have more than one traffic control device in town, but there is one particular stop sign that is a bit more famous than the others. Pretty much anyone who grew up in Ozark can tell you how to get to "The Stop Sign" with their eyes closed. This is the location of MANY underage social gathers. Probably has been more beer/liquor consumed here than any bar that is or was ever in Ozark.

"The Old Barn" – Again famous underage drinking hang out. Much like "The Stop Sign" only it's a barn, and down the street.

"The Old House" – Does this really even need a description? Located conveniently between the historic "Stop Sign" and 'The Old Barn".

"The Clay Pits" – An area of town that is owned by the highway department where they would dig clay to be used for road construction. Want to venture a guess as to what we did here?

"Hollywood" – No, not the one in California, not even the one in Florida, this is a field out in the middle of nowhere Ozark.

"San Quentin" - I would love to know who named a place where minors would gather to gather to get wrecked out of their minds after a PRISON. Makes perfect sense to me.

Ok, so you now that you have the layout of some of the social gathering location of the land, we will now move on to other commonly heard phases and sayings.

"Krazo" – Most commonly used nick-name of Ozark, which is simply Ozark spelled backwards. We are a cleaver group that way.

"Man" – This is not a reference to ones gender. This is most often used to start pretty much every damn sentence. "Man, I am tired. Man, I could go for a pizza right about now. Man, where is the party at?" At times this is interchangeable with "Dude".

"The Mall" – Ozark does not have a mall, but there is a shopping center that has been adopted as a mall. This is pretty much a vacant property where local youth hang out and cruise on weekends.

"Martindale 500" – This is a weekly event where the car owning youth and some old losers drive around the parking lot of "The Mall" in a circular fashion much like a NASCAR event.

"Oh Hell No!" – This saying is usually uttered in disbelief of an action that has just happened. For example "Oh Hell No! You didn't just drink my last beer!"

"I'ma have ta f*$k you up!" - A shorten version of "I am going to have to f*k you up. This phrase is typically the predecessor to an "Oh Hell No!" phrase. This phrase is used to express the need for discipline for a previous unpleasant action. Also known as a can of whoop ass.

"Get the hell off of my property" – This saying loosely translated means that the person saying it is advising the recipient of the phrase to vacate the immediate area which is owned by the expresser. Most often used with an unpleasant tone. Often heard in the front lawn/front porch/driveway.

"You mess with me, you mess with my whole family!" – A declaration that I am not alone and if this matter were to turn to an unsettling fashion I will be forced to retaliate with members both in and out of my nuclear family. Most often stated in trailer parks and High School parking lots. Oh who am I kidding, it's the redneck battle cry.

"I'ma have ta call the law!" – Shortened version of "I am going to call the police". Most often used as a means to intimidate one in a manor that there could be pending legal actions taken if you do not correct your current behavior/remove yourself from this area.

"Where is the party at?" – Loosely translated, this means where are people gathering to consume massive amounts of alcohol for no other reason than it is Friday/Saturday night.

"The Beach" – Although there are thousands of miles of costal property, in Ozark there is only one beach, Panama City Beach. All other costal destinations shall be known by the name of the city. For example: Destin, Fort Walton, Miami, Daytona, Long Beach, San Diego and so on.

"The Law" – This can be interpreted as any form of law enforcement, not specifically any one agency. This has nothing to do with the written codes by which citizens must obey.

"Party" – Anywhere that there are more than two people who are drinking.

"Hangin Out" – One or more people, who are drinking.

"Going to the river Sundee" – Typically this could be a question "Going to the river Sunday?" or an answer "What are you doing this weekend? So and so is having a party Saturdee (Saturday) and going to the river Sundee (Sunday)." This even usually involves either owning or knowing someone who owns a four wheel drive truck and driving under bridges on various county and state highways where groups gather to stand in ankle deep water and drink beer.

"River Rat" – One who is "Going to the river Sundee". A regular participant of such events.

"The Block" – A place that you don't want to be, even in the daytime. Often referred to as Compton of the south.

"Yankee queer" – This lovely phrase is aimed at anyone who can be identified as not from Ozark and who has done something to upset a local.

... sigh

Things that I miss

As I am sitting here bored, I was just thinking of a list of things that I miss. This may only make sense to Ozark people.

- I miss the way that Y&T's "Summer Time Girls" used to be an anthem for warm weather.
- I miss having summers off.
- I miss the audience participation part of "Mony Mony" at La Vela.
- I miss figuring out what I was doing on Friday and Saturday nights being my biggest concern.
- I miss "rocking out" (LOL) to The Cars/Cheap Trick/The Who.
- I miss wondering which character in "Fast Times at Ridgemont High" that I would be.
- I miss cranking up the Ozzy with the T-Tops off. (Redneck or not, I am going to bring T-Tops back)
- I miss side of the road parties out in the country (The stop sign, the barn, the old house, Hollywood, San Quentin (who the hell named that one?) or the clay pit)
- I miss staying out until the sun comes up and then sleeping all day.
- I miss $5 keg parties with a band.
- I miss the most beautiful beaches in the world being just over an hour away and taking off for them when I wanted.
- I miss Panama City Beach being this little town supported by locals and snowbirds.
- I miss "Fins UP!"
- I miss when one of my friends would put out the call "Regulators, Mount Up!" when we would head out to a party.
- I kind of miss the Martindale 500.
- I miss the days when 15 friends would pile into one hotel room at the beach.
- I miss being excited about spring break (AEA).
- I miss Cross Roads Jam.
- I miss staying up all night with friends laughing until your face hurts every weekend.
- I miss when MTV actually had music videos on it.
- I miss concerts at arcades.
- I miss pulling brodys on country roads.
- I miss hanging out at the river on Sundays.
- I miss "Night Flight" and "Radio 1990".
- I miss the most important thing about a car being that it ran.
- I miss the second most important thing about a car being stereo/rims/window tint.
- I miss being more worried about my parents finding out than I was about the cops finding out.
- I miss being excited about the new Van Halen/Motley Crue/Ratt/Guns N' Roses/Dokken/Tesla/Ozzy album coming out.
- I miss bonfire parties out in the country.
- I miss hearing "We're not going to need this any more" as the top of a fifth of bourbon flys out the cab of a truck window on a Friday/Saturday night.
- I miss when preparing for a beach trip meant getting some cash & packing a toothbrush and a change of clothes.
- I miss senior skip day.

I hate growing old!!!!

More looking back

Shortly after high school graduation a buddy of mine was dating a girl who lived in a town about 45 minutes away from where we lived. He ask me if I wanted to go on a blind date with one of his girlfriends friends. Why not right, what do I have to loose. Come to find out he was more interested in not making the drive by himself more than he was interested in setting me up. That’s the kind of people I hang out with, always thinking of others. So anyway, he talks me into it and we set it up for the following Friday night. We get about 35 minutes into this trip when he looks over at me and says “Oh, don’t stare at her scar” and looks back at the road. Not wanting to make a scene I am thinking to myself “What?!?! What the fuck do you mean don’t stare at her scar?” Like I said, that was what I was thinking. Then he tells me that she was in a bad wreck where she hit the dash with her head and now has a big scar going across her forehead. Again, I don’t say anything but I am thinking “great, he set me up with Frankenstein”. The rest of the drive up I am trying to figure out a way to get the hell out of there just as soon as possible. We finally get there and I am already ready to leave. He knocks on the door and this cute little brunette answers the door. Nice body, good sized boobs, nice face, nice dress and this little headband and so on. I am thinking that my buddy has done pretty well for himself. She tells us to come in but before we can I see another girl run by and I think to myself “whew, she looks pretty normal”. We have a very casual conversation while we are waiting on the second girl to finish getting ready. Typical stuff, how was the drive up, did you have a good day and so on. Then the second girl walks up, apologizes for running late and we exchange hellos. As I tell her that it is nice to meet her when my buddy interjects and says oh no, she is my date, this is the girl you are going out with who answered the door. Then it was like one of those movies with the extreme close up. All I could see was this headband. Son-of-a-bitch! He wasn’t kidding. Now I have to make a conscious effort not to stare at the headband. Anyone who knows me knows that I have never been accused of being quiet. But man I didn’t say five words on the way to dinner. I had this fear that she could ask me where I worked and all I would be able to say is “scar” or “Frankenstein” or something like that. Like I had turrets syndrome or something like that. We make our way to this restaurant, get seated and give our drink orders when the girls said that they needed to be excused and that they would be right back. There are four of us sitting at this table where me and my buddy are sitting right across from each other and the girls would have been sitting across from each other also. So after the girls leave for the power room, my buddy leans over and our conversation went a little like this: Him: So what do you think? Me: Dude, what in the fuck is wrong with you? Him: Me? What is wrong with you? You have not said three words all night. Me: That’s because you set me up with goddamn Frankenstein! Like I am going to pour on the charm. And don’t you dare tell her where I live! Him: HA HA HA! I forgot about that. Me: Well, I didn’t! Him: HA HA, When you didn’t freak out about it, I thought you didn’t fall for it. About this time the girls are walking back from the bathroom when my buddy says “Hey, can you lift up that headband so he can see that you don’t have a scar that you are covering up. Me: Dude, you’re a dickhead. I only thought that because you said it. Him: Come on, show him. Even though I told her not to worry about it she wanted to show me. Me: Dude, if you weren’t my ride home I would haul right now.

Looking back, chapter 7

A buddy of mine’s grandfather is an old horse trader from way back. I don’t think he ever paid money for anything, just traded stuff for it. One time he was talking to someone about who knows what and the guy, knowing that the old man would take something in trade for it, tells him “I’ll give you a chicken for it”. Apparently it was around lunch time and the grandfather must have thought he was talking about food, like KFC or something. But what the guy was talking about is a real live fighting rooster that someone had given to him.

So my buddy and I go to his house after school and see this truck tool box. I ask my buddy what’s up with the truck box and he says that he doesn’t know. We begin to walk over to the box and we can hear something moving around in it. As we open it to see what is in it, this chicken jumps out and takes off down the driveway a bit. We just stand there and watch it for a minute when just wondering why there was a live chicken in a truck box in his driveway. Then something strange happens, my buddy says “I guess we need to get it back in the box” and squats down and begins to call the chicken. Mind you, we have no idea that this is a fighting rooster. So he calls the rooster and it turns and begins to run at him. It starts flapping its wings and looks like it might be flying a couple of inches off of the ground.

Nervously my buddy stands up wondering what this chicken is doing. And the chicken doesn’t break it’s stride. This chicken is running right at him. Then without slowing down, it, for the lack of a better word, climbs up my buddy and then down his back. Instantly my buddy doubles over. Then he slowly stands back up and I see all of these red specs showing up on his shirt and then I notice all of these little holes all over his shirt. Then he tells me “Sweezey, get that damn chicken!” I said “Holy shit dude, that chicken just kicked your ass. It literally it’s way up and down your ass!”

This really ticks my buddy off. He walks into his house and says that he will be right back. So I am just hanging out waiting for him and watching this chicken explore the area . My buddy comes back out with this aluminum baseball bat. Here is the scene, this guy is standing the in the driveway like Robin Ventura waiting on that Nolan Ryan fastball, then he starts calling the chicken again. “Here chick, chick, chick. Here chick, chick, chick.” Well it is the same song, but the second verse. Here comes this chicken, coming right at him again. My buddy swings for the fences and knocks this bird back about fifteen feet or so and the chicken SHAKES IT OFF.

Yeah, that’s right, he shook it off. The chicken gets back to his feet and shakes his head back and forth a few times and comes right back at us. This is when I decided that I am not going to mess with Robo-Chicken. So we both make a run for my car. As we are sitting in my car Superchicken jumps up on the hood.

Do you have any idea how stupid you feel sitting in your car so that a chicken wont “get you”?

Looking back, chapter 6

Remember getting a hotel room when you were in school and wanted to party but nobody was having one? And there were too many cops out? Oh like I am only one!

Yeah, those were good times. I can remember one time where this high class road side motel actually had a magic fingers bed. For some reason one of the guys with us REALLY wanted to lay on the bed while the magic fingers where on. I mean he was really adamant about it. So he drops a quarter in the box and nothing happens. He puts in another quarter and again nothing happens. Time to investigate why it is not working. Everyone knows that drinking and electricity mix oh so well. So here are eight to ten guys standing around a hotel room, drinking, with the lights and television on. Magic-fingers man finds the problem, the wires were cut and taped back together but has come apart again. So magic-fingers guy stands up and says "here is the problem" removes the tape and goes to reconnect the wires. It is at this time that there is this bright flash of light and a loud pop and everything in the room goes dark. From where I was standing I could see the silhouette of magic-fingers man. He says "oh shit" and hits the deck like we are being shot at. So this place is pitch black and we all start laughing and ask magic-fingers man why he dropped to the floor. A few minutes later the hotel manager knocks on the door and ask if everything is ok. Since we couldn't see the beer we weren't able to hide it. We tell him we are ok and he goes off to flip the breaker or something I guess. A couple of minutes later he comes back and ask us who all was staying in the room and so on. Then he asked us what happened. We told him that we wanted to see the magic fingers work then we noticed that the wires weren't connected. So he is going to fix it, apparently magic-fingers man had the wires crossed. The manager fixes it and the bed begins to work. He leaves and magic-fingers man gets his wish. So he is laying there and well, it got boring pretty quickly. But the bed just keeps going and going and going. It kept going so long that we got annoyed by it so we went to unplug it, but the plug was hot, real hot. Like to hot to touch hot. So we decided to just leave it alone. Magic-fingers man sits up and starts to rock back and forth like he is riding a mechanical bull. It is at this point that the bed breaks loose from the wall and begins to move around floor a bit. Kind of like the old electronic football games. Now this could be fun. A bunch of teenage boys drinking and riding a magic fingers bed around a hotel room. Oh man, that sounds real bad. Anyway we are all piled on the bed and shaking around a bit when it seems to be moving more than it has before. We are headed right for the TV. Haha, we are going to slowly crash into the TV. Hey, what is that burning smell? Oh shit! smoke is coming out from under the bed and the plastic on the plug cover is melting. Thankfully someone kicked the wires apart where they were taped together.

Looks like check out time is right about now!

Looking back, part deux

A couple of weeks ago the circus was in town and my kids were pumped! They love the circus. They love it so much that their grandmother bought front row seats for everyone. It was sick, we were actually part of the show and everything. Crazy experience.

But that is not what I am writing about today, well not being in that circus. My wife jokingly made the statement that I was in a circus once so I had to tell the story.

One year when I was a young child, some crappy half ass circus came to my home town. My parents took my brother and I to go see it, which was great of them to do that but it just sparked a memory that still gives me nightmares. You see I am several years younger than my brother so I was more or less his entertainment until I was a little older.

After we got home from this festival of freaks my brother thought it was a good idea to play circus. What part of the circus you ask? No, not the lion tamers, although that would have been funny. Nope, not the high wire walkers. Not even the clowns. He wanted to be the acrobats. Yeah, the flying Sweezey brothers, or should I say brother, as in singular, as in one, as in me!

So acrobats fly through the air, and they need something to “launch” them. What do they use? They use a see saw. So we are of to make a see saw, against my will. Sadly all we can find is a 10 foot 2x12 and a cinder block. Oh darn, can’t make the see saw right? WRONG! We used the damn cinder block and 2x12. A CINDER BLOCK! As in a square! As in flat on four sides! As in this is going to hurt.

So the plan is I am going to stand on the board and he is going to jump on the other end propelling me skyward where I am instructed to do a back flip and land on my feet. You’re kidding me right? He was far from kidding. I ask him how come I have to be the one to do the back-flip. Wanna guess what the answer was? Yeah, “because I said so”.

So we set up what I like to call the cardiac arrest starter kit. Fortunately for me, the end I was not standing on was way too high in the air for my oh so loving brother to jump on. Dang, well we tried, right? Wrong. Now we are on a mission to find some sort of a platform for him to jump from. This is not looking good for the home team at all at this point.

So I hear him call for me and he says he has found something. Please god, let it be a bucket or something like that. Well it was something like that, sort of. He found a 55 gallon drum that my grandmother had. Do I at least get a final request?

So he rolls the barrel over to the area where the future caulk outline will be. And it is way taller than the end of the board, plenty of room for him to hit terminal velocity before I am hurled towards the clouds.

In a last ditch effort to try to keep all of my body parts as they should be I tell him that we are way to close to the concrete and that we should probably at least move the set up. He tells me that if I do it right I wont even come close to the concrete. No pressure there.

The zero hour has arrived and the Governor didn’t call with my stay of execution so I guess I have to face the music. There I am standing on this board which is laying over a cinder block with my older brother standing on the other end atop a 55 gallon drum ready to put my ass into orbit. I must have looked like Greg Louganis but I just remember seeing his feet leap off of the drum and then I just remember having a really bad head ache and my brother telling me “You didn’t do it right, get up and lets do it again”. I beleve that was the first time I ever told someone FUCK YOU!

Looking back…

You know, I was telling some stories with some friends the other night and I got to realizing that it really is amazing that I turned out as well as I did and that I am still alive for that matter. Not that I lived in a war zone or anything like that, that would be understandable. I am just talking about the dumb shit me and my friends have done through the years.

We go to talking about things that we did as children that we would never let our children do and I had so many stories that I started to write them down. I don’t know how many of them I will get to tonight but there could be a series of stories to follow.

One of the first dumb things I can remember is making the slip and slide almighty. We, like just about every kid, had a slip and slide growing up. But we had a pretty good sized yard and we lived on a hill. It did not take long to realize that this store bought slip and slide was not going to cut it. Being either adventurous, or creative, or maybe we were just fucking stupid, my brother and I remembered seeing a large roll of plastic sheeting that my father had in the basement for god only knows what reason. Slip and slide is a sheet of plastic, we got a whole roll of that stuff, lets make a better one! Yeah, first mistake. So we roll this plastic sheeting just about the length of the front yard, get out the water hose and let the good times roll. After several runs it soon came to our attention that this was no where near fast enough. When it hit me, I remember washing the car with some laundry detergent, it is really slippery. Mistake numero dos. At that age I had know idea what the words “use sparingly” meant. Hell, I am pretty sure I didn’t know “sparingly” was a word. So we COVERED the plastic with powered tide laundry detergent. Crash Test Dummy #1 is up and will be at full speed in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Here we go! Oh man this is much better. Oh hell, that fence is coming up fas… BAM! Shit, that hurt. We need to move the slip and slide back. Only problem is that we cut the plastic sheeting to length and if we move it back, it will go over the driveway that splits the front yard. Well, it’s not like we are going to land on the drive way we will simply be sliding OVER it. Ewww, strike three. We strategically place the slip and slide of death in the middle of the yard. Equal running and stopping room. Seems that we have drawn a crowd of neighborhood kids by this time. Never letting an audience get in the way of progress my brother decided that we have worked enough of the kinks out and he wanted to see if he could hit mach 1 himself. He starts to haul ass down the hill and just about the time he is going to dive on the slip and slide one of the neighbor kids start to try to jump over it. Public Safety Announcement, if you are running at full speed onto a piece of wet, soapy sheet of plastic, don’t try to stop. Once you have committed to the act, just follow it through to the end no matter what. In an effort to avoid doing his best impression of Cornelius Bennett hitting Steve Beuerlein, my brother tried to stop. Remember that part about sliding over the drive way? Yeah, that didn’t even come close to happening. He started to slide, tried to stop, ended up off the slip and slide, onto the drive way and catching traction and breaking his ankle. The funny part of the story is, he told me not to tell mom. Like she’s not going to thing something is up when you are crawling around the house with your ankle looking like a purple and black watermelon? Pretty sure she wont have to be Columbo to figure that one out. But what in the hell were we thinking? This isn’t dangerous enough! We need more trips to the ER. Nothing says summer like plaster of paris.

More stories to follow.