We need to help those that are trying to defend our way of life. War, or minor police actions, as might be politically correct, is HELL, and the deeds our service people are asked to perform, truly tears people up. No one ever comes back the same. Lets TRY to be more conscious about their plight! https://painkills2.wordpress.com/2015/02/15/capt-jamie-brunette-thinking-of-you
Here is my favorite Twisted Sister song. I always play it loud, and when someone gives me shit, I blast them with this!
Twisted Sister – We’re Not Gonna Take It (Official Video)
The Boy opened his eyes. He hadn’t realized they were shut. What happened, he wondered? He had been watching the road, a four lane highway with a large meridian, between the north and south lanes.
He had been watching the sun setting over the high hills. It was nearly dark now, and he still didn’t know why his eyes had been shut. He wasn’t tired, it was only five o’clock and bed time wouldn’t be until eight thirty, or nine if there was a good show on the t.v.
The scenery in front of him didn’t make any sense. Why was he sitting on the side of the highway? He was on the shoulder of the roadway. Small pebbles were poking him in the butt, and he shifted position to be more comfortable.
Karol, his older sister was on his left, to the north and Kevin, his younger brother was on his right. They both were sitting on the shoulder just as he was, and neither of them seemed to know what was going on either.
Headlights were stacked up behind the 1962 Dodge wagon his dad drove. Where is dad, he wondered? Where is Lynda, his oldest sister? Mom isn’t here either he thought. We were all together in the car, heading to Simons, to get groceries and maybe ice cream too. If we were good, we would get a treat.
A man he had never seen before, walked up, and asked how they were doing. The kids only shrugged and stared down the highway at the family wagon. More headlights were behind it now, and the boy could hear a siren wailing in the distance.
That stranger who had asked how the children were, was placing lit flares alongside the wagon. The man-made a pathway out of the flares. They were about 15 feet apart and the path between them was about 10 feet wide. It snaked this way, around the back of the wagon, and then snaked the other way, around something yet unseen.
The flares were a fiery crimson and sputtered sparks around. They smoked, and the smell was just like eggs that were hard-boiled and shelled. Highway flares the boy told himself. Those are what gets used when there’s an accident. We must have crashed, he thought.
The sirens were closer now, but they were behind the car. The car was blocking almost all of the black top and it blocked everything from view. The boy wondered if he and his siblings had been set where they were on purpose. Maybe the children weren’t supposed to see, what was hidden beyond the station wagon.
The flares were much brighter now. They were placed in a funny way, the boy thought. He knew, they were put there so people could drive around the obstruction. He just didn’t understand why the pathway for the other cars was laid out the way it was. It reminded him of a big fat gophersnake.
The siren noise turned itself off, as an ambulance swerved around the vehicles impeding it’s progress. It was just coming to a stop behind the station wagon when that strange man, walked up to the still sitting kids on the shoulder of the black top. ” You kids should come with me” he said. He seemed like a nice enough person, not like someone the kids should avoid.
The children got up slowly, warily following the man. The girl was 11 or 12 years old and the taller of the boys was maybe 9. The youngest, Kevin was about 8, and he didn’t seem to see any problem with going somewhere with the stranger. The older boy, was not so sure about going anywhere, especially with someone Mom and Dad didn’t know or introduce him to.
The boy had been in trouble not long before, for pretending to hitch hike. He remembered being told not to go anywhere with people he did not know. ” Never get into a car with a stranger” he had been told. the boy remembered because he got a spanking for doing that. The children walked with the strange man to a van parked off of the roadway. It was a pretty new van, with 3 rows of seats in it, and had been parked in the median strip between the lanes of the highway.
As the children were getting into the stranger’s van, the oldest boy looked back to where the family wagon was. From the elevated position the boy could see what had been hidden, while he was sitting on the ground. The station wagon didn’t look right. The front end was smashed, and it looked like the roof was bent upward. Only the color was right. The station wagon was nearly unrecognizable, and in the near dark, looked like someone had put a demolition derby car there.
The damage didn’t look all that bad, the boy thought. The front drivers door was opened all of the way back to the fender. It looked to the boy, like the hinges were broken, at least on the bottom. There didn’t appear to be a front seat in the wagon, and the boy wondered how that could be so. The car wasn’t all that old, only a couple of years.
The kids were seated in the back seat of the van, and the strange man said, ” kids, I will be taking you to visit a neighbor of your’s”. He then started up the van and pulled it onto the highway. The driver had to follow another path, lined with sputtering bright red flares, around another obstruction.
There were two obstructions. one was a large deer, dead and bloody, with cuts and gashes all over its body, laying in a pool of congealing blood. The body of the animal was twisted in a unnatral pose, not like other dead deer, the boy had seen in his life. This one looked like someone crumpled it up, as you might do with a wad of paper, and then dropped it from a high place. There was blood everywhere.
As the van weaved its way through the flare lit lane, the boy saw the front seat, just the bottom part, laying alongside the roadway. It had to be 150 feet from the wagon, the boy judged. Along side the seat there was a body laying in another puddle of dark ooze. ” That’s my dad ” the boy said, and craned his neck farther to the rear, to see more.
The van had finished negotiating the flare path and was gaining speed, leaving the scene of the accident. It was getting dark, and becoming hard to make out what was now behind the van. The boy had seen his dad laying there in his jacket, a white leather one, and there was blood on it also. It looked as though someone had finger painted the jacket, as there wasn’t much of the white color left. Just a reddish, brown finger painting.
The van was heading back toward Concord, another 24 miles away. The man driving didn’t pay very much attention to the kids in the back seat. He kept his eyes on the road, and only made a comment or two, during the ride away from the crash. It was too dark, and too far back to see what was happening at the place where the accident had happened. The boy stopped looking back there and looked out of the front of the van. He could see the stranger’s eyes, studying, the children through the rear view mirror as they drove in silence toward home…..
I started a post yesterday, and lost it through a new app I thought I would use. That will teach me to try something like that with a post. I’ll probably never be able to reproduce it, at least not in the same way.
The post was a THANK YOU to all of you that have been hanging in there and following me. It was a humble post, with me groveling, and APOLOGISING for intruding onto your sites, with my wit, and such.
That post is gone, and I think Ginger, the post stealing program, is using that particular post to take over the net. It was well written, of course ( I wrote it ) and would have wooed you. Now I have to figure out how to reproduce what I had. But now that inspiration is gone, and I do thank, and apologise to you, but I will do that later.
Class, today we will explore the ” unfathomable “. Say that one ten times really fast, quietly to yourselves, as I am trying to write. That which can’t be fathomed, at least by me, is fairly perplexing.
I work at producing posts that would interest you, because I want you to hang out here. I am a recluse in the real world, so I try to turn that around by being wildly extroverted here. I am not shy, and I have a quick tongue, but I grew tired of the crowds in the late 60’s.
So why do I try to invite big crowds into this blog, you ask? Because digitally, there is plenty of room, and we don’t have to worry about, who showered when, or who’s been hitting the sauce or whatever. I mentioned I knew ” things ” earlier, and I can only say I am an empath, but I don’t get down when you are down, and I am not affected by others emotional states. I just can’t stand the clutter of all of those minds.
I am not a mind reader, but I am affected by too many brainwaves in my space. wierd huh… So, digitally I don’t have all of that interference, and you have been extremely kind about not ranting or raving at me. So I welcome our whatever this is. I would like to think you’re my friends, but that is fairly presumptuous of me.
I am beginning to learn about some of you, and in turn, I am being real with you. My wife doesn’t understand what or why, I am here, but I know too many of you do know and understand. We are here to put our stuff on record, to save it to posterity, that we will leave a legacy, whether our family and friends understand or care, or not.
So, now that that’s out-of-the-way, just what the heck do you want? Are we all enjoying the sad tales of Squatch? What a question huh…” Oh yes, we love hearing how you should be dead in an incredible number of ways “…. And now we hit the like button. You liked that?
I know, you liked that I shared, and you pushed the button like I do, to prove you were there! That’s what that button is for. If WordPress wanted to get cute, they would put in a ” LOOK AT ME ” button, so we wouldn’t feel like crap, to like that tragedy, or embarrassment, before us. ( More digression)
Actually, that was what my lost post mentioned. The gist of it was, I push the like button to show you I was there. I read every word of every post I push that button on. Also, when the original post is at another site, I go there and finish reading and push the button again. If I have time, I poke around looking for whatever got left out, and try some.
I currently have 91 followers, and yes I count. You had the fortitude to visit me, and I do the same for you. I apologise for not catching some of your posts as of late. I am currently following just over one hundred blogs, and some of you are posting several times a day, and some of you are posting incredibly long posts.
Yes, I know. I get a lot long-winded too, but that’s because you’re not here in my face. I don’t have to let you talk at all, so I just pretend you’re not here, and ramble… So I follow all of you! It is a big task reading all of your blogs, and I’m having to only look at current posts for the moment, though I try to catch everything you’ve got tucked away. Some of you have been tucking away hundreds of posts, and I apologise for not getting to them all.
And YOU, yes you. I am not a fashionista, nor do I care about beauty aids, or foods, or dieting. No, There are many posts I couldn’t care less about, but I read them all of the way through, and hit the Look At Me Button. If I think I have something relevent to say, I will comment, unless the line is too long.
But that big question still has no answer. What do you want? I suspect you want a distraction from reality, but you keep finding it here on the net, just as big time as at home. You want to share, so you’ll listen to my woes if I’ll do the same for you.
I have posted several posts I thought might be of interest, and no one has even pushed the button once. I know some sites where the poster hits the button first. I think of doing that, except it seems wrong to me somehow. It shouldn’t though, just as a politician should vote for him / her self. I just don’t want people to think I’m conceited, so I don’t, but I may truly ” like ” that post.
What do you like? Why do you come here? Are you just coming by because I came by? If that’s the case, we are playing an endless game of tag. I am here to make a name for myself, so if I have to sell crap for a living, you will at least know who you got your crap from.
Well looky here, I have been nominated for the prestigious, much coveted and fought over, LIEBSTER AWARD! I truly have to give my thanks and appreciation to Shruti of Shruti Insights, for offering me this unexpected and awkwardly wonderful opportunity. She has offered me a chance to experience a shot at the Golden Ring, the Kewpie Doll, the Final frontier of Fame and Glory in the ” Blogosphere “. I certainly would never have attempted, or volunteered for Honors such as these, on my own, so again Thank you for the inspiration, and privilege, only using my fear of shotguns or Wrathful, and thoroughly disappointed Friends, to make a man of me, and Accept this One Giant Leap For Mankind Test. Shruti, you’re the best!
So there are rules to all of this. Apparently in order to be a big shot around these parts, I have to play by THESE RULES.
Put the Liebster Award logo on your blog.
Thank and tag the blog who nominated you.
Answer their questions and come up with 10 new ones for you nominees.
Nominate 8 blogs with less than 200 followers, let them know you’ve nominated them and link them in your post.
So Shruti, with much pounding of heart, I will under take this feat, and I Thank You sincerely for your having Faith and Belief in my abilities!
These are the Ten questions I get to answer!
1.Among your blog posts, which one is your favourite?
Well thank you for asking! My favorite post was a story I wrote a couple of years ago, called ” The Waiting Game”, and It was basically a true story about circumstances I had no control over. I only embellished it a tad.
2.At what time of the day do you usually write a blog post?
That is tricky because I post whenever I am either inspired by an idea, or feel like I’m not delivering enough, or not giving people what they want.
3.What is your favourite word in your native language?
Wow, I wish you hadn’t asked me that. I don’t believe I have a singular favorite word. My favorite phrase is ” Papa, I love you! ”
4.What do you like to eat in the morning?
That is an easy one, as I don’t eat in the early day. Usually I start getting hungry about 2 or 3 in the afternoon, and I’m a guy so it really doesn’t matter what it is, as long as it can be wolfed down easily.
5.Choose one: tea, coffee, milk, hot chocolate. Why do you choose it?
Coffee with cream and sugar. But again, I drink freshly ground dark French Roast. Oh I’m sorry, you asked why? I grew up with good coffee in the S.F. bay area, and I’ve learned coffee really is the cheapest beverage, aside from water, and I don’t like water as fish do things in it.
6.Do you have a close friend? Is there one thing that you can only do with that friend?
I am married to my bestest, closest friend, and the thing we do together, I am not allowed to publicly speak about!
7.What is your favourite book and why do you like it?
That’s a hard one, but I can safely say my nearly favorite book, if I can only name one is BattleField Earth, by L. Ron Hubbard. I like that it’s long and involved, even though some of it is rather childish, I enjoy humanity taking back their home, and making a difference out in the cosmos.
8.What do you really want to learn but you haven’t got the time to do it?
Everything! I want my education to always continue. Right now I want to learn how to make my site work for me. The part about not enough time, unfortunately takes presidence over everything.
9.What do you miss from your childhood?
I miss my mommy! She died when I was 9, and I had to grow up because of that.
10.Where will you go if you just feel bored at home?
I am not at home at present. In December, I had to come down here to Reno Nevada to help take care of my family. I don’t get bored at home, as I live on 20 acres, in the mountains, and if the trailer feels cramped I just go outside.
Now it’s time to make my own nominations for the LIEBSTER AWARD, so I hope I don’t lose any friends over this!
Random Musings And Wanderlust
Bittersweet Sensations babyruthbeer
And now, finally I get to ask my nominees their most dreaded and difficult to answer, questions.
1) Now that you are here in the magical realm of the blogosphere, what do you want?
2) What is your inner animal?
3) On your blog, are you public, or private, in regard to your personal self?
4) Are you happy in your present place in this life?
5) If I could give you one wish, what would that be?
6) What would be your ideal job?
7) Do you have a favorite kind of pet?
8) Are you able to discuss, religion, politics, or feelings openly, with strangers?
9) Knowing what you know now, what would you have done differently, and of course, why?
10) How many fingers am I holding up?
I told you these would be formidable questions, even though I didn’t word it that way. I didn’t want to scare you away. And in advance, Thank You for playing, now take your dang football and go home!
She was an average looking woman, if ever there is such a thing. Her past was a mystery. She said something about motorcycles once or twice. Her scars made sense if that was the case. She never said much about who she was, or about anything for that matter. Actually, she never spoke to me about anything, period.
I know you’ve been introduced to Cinderella’s Step mother. My step mother made her look like a Saint. Cinderella’s step mother had her own daughters, that she pampered while she was harsh on lil Cin. My step mother didn’t have that, she had just inherited three-step children, and probably didn’t really want us. She wanted the respected, hard-working, man who could provide for her. We were my dad’s baggage, as far as I can tell.
She was nice enough right at the start, but something changed one day. I don’t even know when things seemed to change, one day things just weren’t right between myself and my step mother. Later in my life I came to the conclusion, we were incompatible. We apparently had personality conflicts. At 11 years old, that really didn’t mean much.
I was brought up to respect my elders. That meant I shouldn’t argue about whatever was a problem. That also meant I shouldn’t talk back, or offer up any opinions, or cause any grief whatsoever. That meant I should shut up, and take whatever is dished out, unflinchingly! So I did.
I really should do a more in-depth post about who I was at 11 years of age. At 11, I was just beginning to see who I was, and where I stood in this world. I awoke one morning, with a map in my head! You are here, the map proclaimed. That little spot in the San Francisco bay area. I knew I was insignificant as an individual. Just a kid, and not anything remarkable, but my horizons were quickly expanding. It was like I awakened to the knowledge of the universe, right there in my brain! I had an understanding of “things” I had never been consciously told or had learned.
That, unfortunately was probably the whole problem, between her and myself. Maybe she saw it in my eyes, as I never said anything about any of this. But the problems between us grew at an alarming rate. I was in the 5th grade, and not really doing well with school in general. So , I spent most of my time “on restriction”, a sentence that entailed I would not be able to do anything.
I wasn’t allowed to go out to play, see friends or have friends over, or be involved with extra-curricular activities. I could go to school, and come straight back, nothing else. I was to sit in a corner of my bedroom and just be. That changed when I was watching the doorway, and saw my step mother laying on the floor creeping around the corner, spying on me!
So as to keep me from noticing such behavior from her, I was allowed to read. I read every book we had in the house, and that included the complete ” Encyclopedia Britannica ” including the atlas. It was a set of books published in 1954, the year I was hatched, or pulled out from under the rock out back.
I had spent the rest of that year on restriction, even the summer. This punishment only got me in more trouble with my step mother, for several reasons. All of that reading improved my education and taught me more than an eleven year old kid should ought to know. I went into the 6th grade, in September of ” 65 ” and knew everything!
Some of the books I read were old school books. Math, science, English, Spanish, history, and I can’t even remember what more. One of the problems with this particular punishment was, my comprehension was increased by ten fold and I was able to read very fast. I could actually scan a book and tell you, where things were written. You know, that can be found on page 87 about 3/4 of the way down the page!
So, I was punished for that too. In trouble because I could read very fast! Unfortunately I was made to reread most of those boxes of books, because I read them too quickly, and that only drilled the information I had gleaned from them, stick in my mind all the more.
So, I went into the 6th grade and had classes I never before had. We were to learn Spanish, for the first time and the teacher announced who she was, in Spanish. I had read the books, but didn’t have the pronunciation skills. When the Spanish teacher spoke, everything I had read became clear. I understood what she had said, and was able to respond in return. I became a favorite, for all of my teachers.
I took all of my school books home, and during the first two weeks of school, I did the work, in those books, wrote the reports, and made sure all of my work was correct, and shown! That only got me in more trouble with my step mother. How could I stay below the radar, if I was the teacher’s pet?
I finished out that year, still on full-time restriction, yet with honors, as the top student academically, and even got a plaque (award) for my accomplishments, and honors for raising my grade average from the lowest, to the top! That only infuriated my step mother more.
I was abused! I was beaten with anything my step mother could find to hit me with. Coat hangers, leaving welts from my calves, to the top of my shoulders. Welts that turned black and blue. I was hit with boards, from building projects. I was hit on my head with hair clippers, while getting haircuts. I had my front teeth knocked out by her, with a piece of walnut wood.
She was angry about something and asked me about it. I politely gave an explanation, and was threatened, ” tell me the truth or else “. I told the truth, and wham! Right in the kisser, and I could taste the blood and broken teeth in my mouth. I was already taller than her by this time, and I think she might have been a little afraid, I might retaliate. My upbringing didn’t allow me to raise a hand to her, even in self-defense.
I stood there and let her trash my mouth, and just took it. She immediately called my Dad at work, and told him I was running around the house in my socked feet, and slipped, hitting my mouth on the corner of the shelving where the aquarium was. She even dented the spot, so she could show where my stupid kid accident happened!
Our family moved during the summer of “66”, to Marin County California. The reason why, was because my step mother didn’t like the house my Dad, and Mom has bought when I was 5. She didn’t want the reminder of my real mom. She wanted to be my Dad’s wife, without the competition of our mom, or the memories thereof.
My step mother continued to abuse me, and one of her favorite games was, to treat one of us kids special, and use that to get information about us other kids. I was never the one to get this special treatment. I was the middle child, so my younger brother, or my elder sister were given those honors.
Since we were in a new area, my step mother asked the school to allow me to go back into 6th grade again, as it was too difficult for me at the new school. So I went to 6th grade again. I was told not to allow anyone to know how smart I was. I was told to do poorly, so as to not call any attention to myself. I would close my eyes to the lessons, and just pick any answer on the quiz.
That really didn’t help though. Even intentionally trying to fail, my grades were higher than my step mother wanted me to get. I would not read the questions and still pass with good marks. I was always in trouble, and it seemed like I could never please her.
If something went wrong, or was broken, misplaced, or messed up, I was the blame. It didn’t matter what the thing was, nor how trivial, I got in trouble and it was always with a beating.
I ran away from home a few times, and was always caught. ( I will go into this more, later ) The last time I ” ran away “, I took my brother and sister to a place I knew, where we would be able to get help with our situation. That worked! We were placed in foster homes and didn’t have to go back to live with my step mother.
My sister and I went by my Dad’s house on day a couple of years later, to see if we could get my sister’s guitar. My step mother opened the door, only a crack and said, she didn’t have any of our stuff anymore, and we should leave. She was afraid of me! And I never raised a hand against her. She was afraid, and I looked straight into her eyes, knowing she could never hurt us again.
Hey y’all, you need to go to this site and watch this video! It is a social experiment, and you just wouldn’t believe how people act. Especially those that could make some difference. I am totally pissed about how people act. I am sorry for the outrageous attitude, but this is something you have to see for yourselves. I won’t reblog this. Little Karl deserves all of the applause on this. KLEENEX ALERT! DON’T BE SOBBING ALL OVER MY SITE!
” Bill just gave my keys to someone I don’t know! I thought we were
getting along just fine. That’s always the way of things though. I
treated Bill and the family right, didn’t break, unless it was absolutely
necessary, and then it was only a small thing. I wasn’t really broken,
just had a couple of loose connections”.
Bill was always able to figure out what I needed, but today he up and
gave me away! I don’t understand these people sometimes. The
worst part of this whole deal is this new guy, who now has my keys,
also has dogs! Not the little cute, fit in a pocket type dogs, but huge
hundred pounders. Maybe one might be tolerable, two would be
stretching things, but three?”.
Three huge dogs that take up all of the room in my back seat. They are so big, they can’t even lay down at the same time. And the extra weight! I’m sure the combined weight is about 350 pounds, and I’m not used to any of this. I have been known to allow a dog a ride on occasion, but this new guy takes those huge, furry, slobbering animals everywhere! I really do hate dogs. Nasty beasts, always licking their crotches, and shedding fur constantly!”.
So as a faithful rig (that’s what the guy calls me, a rig ) I keep myself in control, and pretend dogs are alright, even though I would rather have normal passengers like people. The worst part about having to accept the dog thing is I don’t get any say, not one word as to what my preferences are. It’s like my feelings don’t matter. The guy acts like me hauling, big, hairy,crotch licking, overweight dogs is my driving ambition”.
” At least there is one thing I don’t mind about this whole new guy affair, and that is the country. This guy and his wife and the God awful, overweight dogs, live somewhere outside of the city, in the mountains. Even though I’m not big powerful car, with a super powerful V8 engine, I really do love the country. I don’t have to fight with all of those newer cars all vying for position on the roadways”.
” Another thing I like, even though I would never admit it to the guy, is he only drives me into big town about once a month, and to the little town, every couple of weeks. That allows me to rest somewhat. It’s not that I hate going places, but this guy lives way up a mountain, and it’s uphill all of the way. And, it’s a crappy dirt and rock trail he drives me up. Not like the perfect gravel I was so at home on”.
” I will have to admit, the guy with those damn dogs drives me nicely. He has a way of letting me feel like I have control rolling down the roads and trails he uses. He must look way out in front of me when he’s driving, because I hardly ever have to come to a stop so fast that it hurts my soft parts. It’s like he watches out for me, and that is kinda nice”.
” I still don’t understand why Bill gave me away. It’s frustrating, you know? A car gets in the habit of being with a particular driver, knowing what is expected, and knowing the way to go. This new guy doesn’t treat me wrong or anything, but I was with Bill for 18 years, and that is like a lifetime! But, now I’ve been here with giant, fat, crotch licking dogs guy, for about 2 years, and even though I can tell he respects me, I miss my comfortable gravel and Bill”.
” Another thing that bothers me about all of this is, I was just getting used to the guy, and even not really minding having the stupid dogs always jumping in me, and messing around with my seat covers. I was getting used to this life, and was even resigned to this as my life, and then one day, the guy did the same thing Bill did! What are people’s problems that they just give their friends away? At least, I thought we were friends. I was there for him, and those frigging dogs, and he up and gave me to some girl!”.
” A girl! Can you believe that? I was always a guy’s car, and then all of a sudden, without any warning, I am suddenly a girl’s car! People are truly strange, you know what I mean? I was getting along with the guy, and the dogs, and the nasty trail the guy pretends is a road, and he gives me away to a girl! Now I’ll have to try to get along with her, and she doesn’t know diddly squat about cars, let alone me and my quirks. How could she? Girls don’t know about stuff like that!”.
” I realize I have to accept these things, and can’t pout or act up, because I know other cars have been scrapped for doing stuff like that. But it just ain’t fair, not one little bit. I did overhear a conversation about this change of circumstance for me. I don’t know if I agree with the reasoning, but, apparently the guy and dogs, only used me on occasion, like I said earlier, and this girl ( I don’t think I like them very much ) needed me for a 50 mile each way commute”.
” This would happen on a daily basis! No more, once a month to the big town, every two weeks to the little town stuff. Now I was going to have to move down the road every day. At least this would be on a paved surface. I don’t miss the dirt and rock trail, not one bit. It still bothers me that the girl is my driver though. I’m just not that kind of rig. See? I still think I’m that guy’s rig, and am not thinking right, any more. I just don’t know what is to become of me. Maybe someday I’ll figure all of this out. At least I hope I do, I don’t like all of this suspension!”.
Here is another great post I came across. World meet Very Bangled, using the dark side of the force….
Alanna from White Girls Be Like posted a challenge, a competition! She’s hosting a Funny Blog Friday which sounds pretty alright. Since I’m competitive, and I like to think I’m funny despite my total inability to remember punchlines, I raised my hand.
But then I started re-reading my blogs. Turns out grief, bracelets, and infertility don’t make for a rollicking good time. So here’s a collection of my worst, darkest, least funny, most painful, absolutely terrible thoughts recently. Let me welcome you to rock bottom.
-If my dad were still alive we’d probably go to the baseball game tonight.
-My dad was the only person to ask me how my day went.
-It’s getting darker earlier and soon I’ll be walking home from work in the dark. Because my dad used to be my ride home and now he is dead. And nobody asks me how my day went anymore.
View original post 311 more words
The car is nothing special. It would be considered a relic by too many folks. It is a 1995 Geo Metro, four door coupe, black in color and not very dented, taking its age into consideration. The crack in the wind shield is across the bottom of the view, so it is still legal in most states.
The Metro never got a name. Just ” the metro”, and it came to us with a history. Everything has a history of some kind, and the metro had a previous history giving itself an air of distinction. I will let the metro tell you about its past, before me.
“I was purchased right off the showroom floor! I didn’t have to park myself out in the weather, and endure all of the rain Seattle parking lots suffer. I was bright and shiny, padded seats, radio, heater, and with the biggest engine I could get. I heard the tale of the good people buying me, and was thrilled to be chosen for the chance to please my driver and passengers”.
“The story went something like this, but I can’t be sure of all of the facts, as I was so young. The people who bought me, were worried about some family members who had fallen into bad times. Apparently their old ride took a dump on them, right in the middle of the freeway. They were told the old ride would cost more to fix, than it was worth, and even if it was fixed again, it wouldn’t be a reliable rig”.
“I can’t remember the purchaser’s name anymore, it’s been 20 years since I’ve even wondered about such things. I used to know, but I’ve forgotten now. I will call him Jack, that sounds like a good name, every Jack I ever met was okay in my trunk!”.
“Jack bought me to help out his son-in-law and their family. It was really neat, as he paid in cash and took me right outta there. It was a nice day that! No rain, and the highway wasn’t too crowded, and the sun shone, glinting off my panels. I looked sleek if I do say so myself”.
Jack drove me out into the country, and the ride was perfect. I pulled up in a driveway, way up in the Cascade Mountains, roughly 100 miles from the lot. Once I was parked and that was for only minutes, a whole bunch of people crowded around me and started pulling my handles, and pushing my buttons. At first I was kinda put off by their actions, but I figured they just didn’t know any better”.
I let them poke and prod me, and even let them see under my hood! There was a tall guy checking me out, and he had a good touch. I still remember the way he grabbed my dipstick, and I couldn’t help it! I dripped, and the shame of it all. Ever want to know what’s embarrassing, it’s dripping on someone you hardly know!”.
“The tall guy, Bill, yep that was who he was, took me out on the road, after four other people squeezed into me. I don’t know how they even fit, as a couple of them were fairly large. But they did manage to find a comfortable seat, belted themselves in without me having to blink at them for not buckling up. That was nice to be respected right off the get go”.
“We zoomed around for a while and I let them think they were in control, while I guided them back to the driveway. This was my driveway now! I always felt the gravel on my driveway was superior to all of the gravels, of every other place. Be it ever so lumpy, there was never another place like that”.
“I stayed with Bill and his family, and had so many adventures. I went places you could never imagine. Mostly I was taken to town, I mean a fair-sized town, nearly every day. It seemed like clockwork, most days at the same hour, I started up, and purred quietly, waiting for direction. I didn’t really need to be told where we would be going, I knew. The schedules didn’t change often so I was hardly ever surprised at my destination. I did this for countless time”.
“One day I was parked, in town of course. Seems like town is all I had been seeing for who knows how long. A couple good-sized people, reeking of something nasty, started hurting me! They broke my window, and broke my steering column and ripped my ignition switch right outta my spot. That hurt, but what really bothered me was I couldn’t stop them. They seemed to know I was at their mercy, and they took me”.
“I don’t remember very much about what took place after I got stole. I was made to go places, a good car should never even think of going. I was helpless while the nasty, reeky guys made me jump rocks, and stumps. I was getting pretty beat up, and couldn’t stop what was happening, so I tuned it all out. I figured if I ignored the pain and smell, it would go away. That was probably a big mistake, because the guys decided I wasn’t any fun anymore and tried to climb a tree with me”.
“It was a leaner and wasn’t all that steep, but it wasn’t very wide. I felt my front end raise, and I felt my rear tire following along the tree. All of a sudden I had a sensation of falling! I was falling, and I couldn’t do anything about it. I hoped I would land on my soft parts, you know the tires. Murphy’s law applies to cars too, so it happened”.
“I don’t know how long I was upside down. My fluids were draining outta places I never knew I had. A total nightmare (pun probably intended) realizing I was like a turtle on it’s back, and there was nothing I could do. Time doesn’t mean much when you aren’t moving, and upside down. I gave up wondering about my family, I figured this was it”.
“I suddenly felt something, bumping and I was being righted. My tires could feel dirt, and that was nice. Some man was hooking something under me and I felt myself slide. I never felt anything like that before. I always tracked properly, but the slide was hurting me. I felt my wheel tuck itself under my body, and the pain was intolerable. My top was smashed in, and two of my windows were inside me, in a million pieces”.
I got pulled onto a trailer and hauled out roads I can never remember having been on. The trailer was finally parked at a warehouse looking place, and a team of mechanics took away my busted parts, and made me right with the world again”.
“Bill showed up one day and drove me back home, and everything was just as it belonged. I was back, I was home, and I was treated well for countless time. I was treated special, or so I thought.
One day Bill drove me to a place near town. It was almost a quiet place if you ignored the highway noises. He took the key outta my thingy, and gave it to someone I never met. I know who has my key now, it’s the same guy Bill gave it to. That guy has dogs, and a cat, and a family too…I’ve been with them for almost three years, and boy I’ll tell you, I liked Bill much better. At least he didn’t make me haul all kinds of stuff. The new guy seems to think I can be a pick-up. I will show him…..