Funsuckers

     Well. Here I set. I have been pretty busy the last few months with my new job. I felt like I would benefit from taking a second job to "fill in the gaps" left by my first job. I wanted to get licensed to help my friends and family find and sell homes and property and make some supplemental income. My wreath owns and operates a very well established Real Estate agency here in town and they made me a cozy spot in a corner office with a view. I'm blessed. I worked my ass off to get licensed and I have to say, it wasn't easy getting here. But now I am working hard to blaze a path to being the best I can be at what I do. I still focus my first efforts on my marketing business because its what I want to do with the rest of my life. I absolutely love it. I literally enjoy every single aspect of it, so I figure that is where I truly belong at the end of the day, but I am attracted to what Real Estate has to offer. I have the flexibility to come and go as I wish. I set my own pace and it gives me the freedom to do both. It seems like it will always challenge me to try harder and learn more and I am part of an outstanding team that will help me achieve as much as I can as professionally as I can. That in itself excites me. The challenge will be learning to pick and choose what clients I want to deal with and which agents I want to avoid. But that will work itself out.

     That being the case, I haven't had a lot of spare time as usual. So I've managed to stay away from the social media I usually keep up with...until the last couple of weeks. I know, everyone has an opinion on elections and as my friend says, "we are hopelessly divided" as a country. I'm not real sure I put much thought into that statement until today. People literally are divided right down the middle with very little give. Especially on local election topics. It's scary! So any-hoo I have apparently started my manstrual cycle or something because I can usually keep my attitude in check. Today? Not so much. And here's what started it first.
   
Facebook Post from an old friend:

"The next generation will never know the meaning of "I'm going to the line!" The term has been lost."

I read this and immediately understood what he was saying. I mean, for all of us that grew up here, that was the norm. People to this day come from out of town and hear you say it and ask you what you mean. They can't comprehend that you actually have to drive to the counties edge to get a six-pack or a bottle of wine. Dry counties are out there but are very few and far between. So that little phrase will be one of those that we remember until the end of our time. Kinda struck a cord of nostalgia with me. We grew up as teenagers wondering who we were gonna get to drive down to Springdale or up to the Package store and "try to buy some beer". So while tripping down memory lane at 6 am I chime in with some comic relief.

My response -
"They'll still know what it's like to try and get someone out front to buy em a sixer tho!"

Next response from who I assume is a moron -
"...and they will know what it is like to have their family and finances destroyed by alcohol. Those that profit off of liquor must be really excited...who cares about the lives and families that will be destroyed...they get to make some paper money!!!"

     Really? REALLY? First off FunSucker, kindly shut up. If you really think that those magical walls called "The Line" keep those "families" from buying enough booze to "destroy" themselves your f**king stupid. I truly feel for you and the impact that having a liquor store 5 minutes closer must threaten your life. "Whoa is me. The whole county has gone to hell because are allowing people to buy beer and take it home versus going to the nearest restaurant down the street and drinking themselves to a stooper and driving home." Not real sure how you have survived this long... As for me and what seems to be an overwhelming majority of Benton County, we will keep our millions of dollars a year in revenue that is currently being shipped to Washington County or Missouri and use it however we see fit. WE ALREADY BUY IT. Geez. Good news is, there are still some dry counties you can move to that may not even have an Applebees where people are exposing their kids to the ways of the devil. Buh-bye.

     As for the presidential race? Serious? Your going to get on your social networking sites and barrage opposing political party members with name calling, slander them and accuse them of damning the nation into socialism or supporting the rich at the expense of the poor? Do ya think your taking it a touch too far? Go back and read some of your posts and then imagine HALF of your friends are the ones your talking to. Are you the type to pick friends based on their political affiliation? Me either. I have friends that obviously voted for different sides, and I still love them. I wouldn't call them out unless they were ignorant like the guy I mentioned above!!!  Anyway. They each have a reason to cast their vote the way they see fit. The problems start when you call each other out for supporting a different party or start mouthing off about shit that doesn't make any sense.  Be smart. Don't do it. Funny part is, not even 24 hours pass and they are asking everyone to "be nice". Whatever. Choose a stance. Keep your friends, because in the end that guy or gal you pissed off may be the ones with all the guns and ammo if the shit does hit the fan.

     Then there is our divorcing friends. Seems there are a lot of them going on. I've been there. I know how it works. You both divide up your belongings, decide who gets the house, the dog, the boat, settle the visitation schedule for the kids, split up your pool of friends into who "never really liked the other one anyway"....and start fighting like your life will end if you stop. I have always tried my best to comfort each person involved and let them hear the typical "if you need anything" bullshit line we always give. Down deep?  We really just want you to shut up, stop whining about the other, and call us up when your boo-boo is all better. Trust me. Everyone is tired of hearing about it within 2 days of you starting. Just remember, never decide that you will involve me in your bullshit bickering and then say that typical line; "I hate that I have to do this, but he/she gave me no choice". Are you f**king serious?? That shit will come around and kick your ass. Hide and watch. At this critical point in the conversation you need a swift kick in the crotch and forced to lick the toilet rim at the nearest truck stop. Don't try to drag your friends into your bullshit divorce. We may be all you have left at some point. Just like a dog; don't shit where you sleep. You screwed each other into marriage, so unscrew it yourselves. And most of all guys, never.. I repeat, NEVER let your new hooch of a girlfriend to grab your phone and handle your conversation. This makes you a complete pussy (sorry ladies) and all your manly privileges should be immediately revoked. You know who you are. I assume you will read this, and yes, I am talking about you...get a spine. Maybe that's why your first marriage failed. Buy yourself some big boy britches and put the damn things on.

     Proposition 5? You turned it down? Really? It's pretty lame that people wont allow pot to be prescribed, taxed and used for treatment of pain to those who need it. I can only assume that the Pfizer's have you believing they've got it under control, right? Sure, I get it. People will abuse it. You're right! They will. But people abuse cocain, heroin, booze and pills everyday too. But ask yourself this; "When was the last time you remember seeing a hostile, out off control stoner that had to be tazed?" Here's to hoping that you don't get a terminal, painful cancer that you wish you had more options for besides pills.

     I'm not sure what putting this into words does for me in the end, but getting a chance to say what I'm thinking makes me feel better. I simply refuse to be the guy that stands by and gets in line. Believing the theory of "that's just the way it works" doesn't fly with me. People seem content to say that you should just take it the way it comes. But are those the ones dishing it out their way? More than likely. To them, I hold my middle finger firm.

Like it or not, that's just me. Peace, love and Wet Counties!

   
J.C.


   
Facebook friend total when posted: 329

Go The F**k To Sleep

Where have I been you ask? Well I was spending time with a few members of The Wreath this weekend and we all got lucky enough to get together, eat some steak, drank on some cold barley pops and gossip about the things we love and the people we strongly dislike. Great times as usual. While laughing and carrying on, we all sat around and confirmed the induction of "Chef" and "Master Chef" into our twisted up wreath. Also to officially grant the Wreath name to "Aunt Cheetle". And from there all seemed well with the world again. We filled our bellies, shared a laugh, hugged each other and went on our way back to our respective corners

 - Exclusive Sneak Peek -
(Yes..That's a little person I appear to be
preparing for a pile driver)

Now, the Chef and her husband Master Chef were a must include simply for the fact that we love their kids and they have become really close to the entire wreath through our kids huge dance company. Not to mention she hilariously begs me to let her into the inner workings of our seriously jacked up family all the time. She actually wants this...!?!? But either way, as if it were an honor, they had to immediately be added to our messy, jacked up, bushy wreath. Not to mention that simply put, ANY man that goes toe to toe with me on beers at a Luchedorian style Mexican wrestling restaurant in Tulsa is golden in my book. Lets consider them "just good people". Now, I know that most of you crazy ass dance moms that follow my blog are really looking forward to the upcoming (sure to be a two part) story on the Dance Dad's Night Out, but until I get some waivers signed stating I wont get my ass whooped, I'll leave the "Me + Master Chef + Driver + Doc + Female Mexican Wrestling" story for a later date. I'm still laughing over that one. And by the way, we will be making this a Tulsa standard from here on out.

Cheetle

Ahhh... Aunt Cheetle.  Gotta love Aunt Cheetle. Everyone does. She has been in the wreath for quite some time, we just never made it around to confirming her induction because my ass has been a little delayed in updating you all. You see, Aunt Cheetle got her name because she informed me one day of the fact that there is a name for that cheesy dust that sticks to your fingers while eating Cheetos. It's Cheetle. She is the only person on the planet I have ever met that has to remove said Cheetle with a wet nap because the sheer thought, much less sound of someone sucking the golden goodness off their fingers makes her cringe as if it were nails on a chalk board. Funny stuff! I of course make sure to suck my fingers every time shes around simply to show my love.

Well, anyway, Chef asked me to send her the link to my blog last night and so I looked it up and shot it over to her. It immediately led to my wife and I reading through a few of my posts from the last year or so and getting some giggles. It really made me miss taking the time to share the things that make me out to be a fool and laugh with everyone. It reminded me of earlier that day I was up at a local establishment and my buddy Chevy pulled me into his office and showed me a video that had me in tears to the point I had to gather myself and wipe away the tears before I walked out to avoid looking like a kid leaving the principles office after getting my ass paddled. Which led to this.

Most of us have had the joy of raising children. We get to see them born, watch them grow and move towards being adults, and wish that time would slow down. BUT.. There are those moments that we all share. Those nights when the little one refuses to go to sleep. A long day has come and gone and the night comes around and all you want is to unwind on the couch and watch a little boob tube with your significant other. But first you have to give a bath, do the homework, brush the hair, the teeth and maybe even be talked into the good ol' bedtime story.

Now I know that there are several of you out there that are great with "those episodes" our kids have. Especially some of you moms. I've been witness to some people that have apparently been touched by God himself to be given the great gift of patience. For the record, your freaks. I, however, am not one of those that have been awarded said patience. And most everyone else is obviously just like me when it comes to being tired beyond words and every last drop of energy is gone, but you have that last task of getting the little one down before you can rest your old ass on the couch for an hour or so. My mom, sister, dad, wife...all got tired of putting up with the same shit every.damn.night. I honestly think we all do at some point or another.

I thought about posting this on Facebook and then I got to thinking that it just may really make some of my more conservative "friends" a little pissy and thus cause my friends number to drop. Lord knows I can't have that.. So I decided this was likely the best option to share. When I watched (rather, listened) to this video I immediately realized that if we could use the f-bomb freely, we would use it just like this. I find it over the top funny, yet very horrible at the same time to know exactly what  it's like to feel this way. I must warn you, although you acknowledged when you signed onto this blog, this is not for little ears and if your easily offended...well watch it anyway and send me some good hate mail. If you don't laugh at this your on the wrong blog.
                                       DO NOT WATCH THIS - IT'S VERY OFFENSIVE

Now tell me you haven't felt like this is the actual story you felt like reading a time or two.
Now Go The Fuck To Sleep!

Peace. Love. Cold beer.

J.C.

The Gift

It's been a little while since I sat down to talk to you all about the latest happenings in my life or poke fun at someone. You need to understand that I have it pretty easy most of the time, in that I don't have a "Real Job" some might say. The perks to being self employed are that you get to work from home and also that when things are going well I get to sit at home and simply peck on the ol' computer while I "eat Cheetos and play video games like a 12 year old Asian boy sitting in a bean bag chair". At least that's what Scott would say. And there were times that this was exactly what I was doing (minus the bean bag chair simply because I don't own one).

Those of you that know me likely knew my good friend Scott Needham. Scott died in his sleep on Tuesday April the 12th. Scott's death was what I want to call unfair. Very unexpected. I never really stop to think about my peers not being around very long until shit like this happens. But in the last few days, after some reflections on our days and years together, and after meeting the shit loads of friends that he had, and after some soul searching of my own...I have come to realize that Scott left me a gift. A gift of what can only be described as 'enlightenment'. You see, it started when I had an old friend send me a text Tuesday night saying he was sorry. I hadn't heard from him in quite some time because he decided that since I was friends with his ex on facebook, he couldn't remain mine. This was absolutely asinine and pissed me off. I liked the guy. I liked his girlfriend. I guess my downfall was that I also liked his ex wife. I believe that if there is a reason you don't want to be my friend 'anymore', then you were really never my friend in the first place (my assumption). I replied with a smart ass "Well looky there...Why now?". Assuming that maybe he had realized that his maneuver was truly uncalled for and that he was missing his ol' drinkin' buddy Curtis. I really wish that had been the case. Instead I get the news.

The news of Scotty dying from my old friend was very shocking and I didn't really believe it was real for awhile. As the night went on and I watched the memories from his friends fold out on his facebook page. It was real. He was gone. I couldn't get back that last chance to coax him into coming out on a Tuesday afternoon and tying one on with me. I flipped through my phone reading the last few texts from him that I didn't have to delete in fear of my kids running across them. I chuckled in silence with the tears coming up when I realized that I wouldn't get that late night text from him on a Thursday night calling me out as a "cock eyed Guinea wop" and questioning me as to why I had him on my "pay me no mind list". I could go on and on with the vulgar shit he would send me, but that's not the story.

The night came and went. I got up and went on about my business of running the standard morning rituals of packing lunches and dropping the kids off while the whole time hovering in a fog of disbelief. I put on the gym clothes in an effort to keep up with this dumb ass diet I've been on. I check the list of ever growing memoriam on Scott's page in search of a giggle or even a smile from one of the stories. By the looks of the posts, it was just now spreading and the amount of people out there just now hearing the news was staggering. This was going to be a really bad day for the list of hundreds of friends that would be getting the bad news. I get to the gym and plug in the head phones and dial in the old Hard Rock streaming radio to find some head banging shit to get my mind off of it while I punish myself for being a fat ass. I get to running up hill on the elliptical ass kicker and the time is flying by. 20 minutes. 30 minutes. 50...and the next thing I know I've reached my 60 minute marker. I should have been tired. I should have wanted to quit at the 40 minute mark, but it wasn't taking much effort. The hurt wasn't bad. The breathing was easy. Literally too easy. I continued to run amazed at how every breath was so easy to come by.

The afternoon sat in and I started wondering about the legal battles I'm facing and what my next moves should be. It's a daily part of my week. Has been since the craziest bitch in NWA decided to try and screw with me and my life. As I thought about it, I started to think about what the worst that could happen might be. I'm in the right, I know it, but that doesn't change the fact that there is nothing out there that can legally prevent some douche bag from suing you if they want to. If she wants to continue to try and make me miserable then let her try. It's out of my control. Why should any of this bother me. After all, Scotty would be happy to be here to deal with such trivial shit now, wouldn't he. I started thinking about him at that moment. I wonder what the worst thing was that he had to deal with on that previous Monday. I wondered how trivial those things may have been. Not his dad's health of course, but the penny Annie shit that the general guy has to deal with. How small does that seem now? Did he talk to his kids that day? There's the gift that Scotty left me.

Scott Needham - 1975 - 2011

I really am happy that I have what I have in my life. Good or bad. I constantly hate on people for the choices they make. I yell at the kids for being kids. I bitch about money. I worry about the future. Looking now, I'm in the wrong. I don't want that to consume the remaining days I have left. I want each and every day to just...be. Every breath. Every smile from my daughters. Every conversation with my sister. Every chore I do with my dad. Every meal with my mom. Every holiday with my grandmothers. And every night and day with my wife. I want it all. Good or bad. Scott gave me that. Scott gave me a gift when he left. A gift of remembering whats important. I know it may be temporary as the weeks and months go on. But from now on, when I stop and remember Scotty, I promise you this, I will stop and think about whats truly important. And that's to remember that you and I are not guaranteed tomorrow or even the rest of today. So every...little...thing...will be a blessing.

Stop and really look at your kids today. Or call your mom. Tell them you love them more than the air you breath so they know without a doubt. Thanks Scott. Love you brother.

Peace. Love. Prayers.

J.C

Is This You?

I really try. Sometimes I try real hard to keep myself in check. Matter of fact, my New years resolution this year was to talk less. I know what your thinking. "Jason? Talk less?". But yes. This is a goal of mine because I have a problem with making situations worse or even creating new problems by opening my mouth and speaking my mind or simply by not knowing when to shut up.  Well...sometimes it's just not gonna happen.

I've complained before about the major orchestration of attempting to get my little one to her school in the mornings. Thanks to the wonderful school board I have the privilege of having Em to school and in her seat by 7:30am. So in order to get to this achievement I have a VERY strict schedule that Tracy and I have to follow in order to assure that she gets there properly dressed, fed and cute as can be. Deviations from this schedule have a really big impact that the whole house feels.

I wish that I could say that we have a six year old that is capable of getting herself up, brushing her own teeth, feeding herself, picking out her own clothes and getting the ol' lunchbox ready and in the backpack, but that's not the case yet. As of now this is my routine:

6:00am - Alarm goes off
6:00am - I press snooze
6:09am - Alarm goes off again
6:13am - Drain the main vain
6:15am - I let the dog out
6:16am - I grab Em and carry her downstairs asleep
6:17am - Turn on Spongebob and attempt to get Em to open her eyes.
6:19am - Let the dog in and wipe her off because the bitch loves to dig holes when it rains
6:20am - Make first cup of coffee and sit to watch an episode of Spongebob while pestering Em into waking up
6:30am - Begin making the lunchbox norm PB&J, Pringles, Hi C juice box and Jello
6:38am - Pour bowl of cereal and call out for Em to come and partake
6:39am - Place lunch items into the lunch box with the spoon and napkin

Crammed full of nutrition!

6:40am - Threaten to eat the bowl of Cookie Crisp myself if she doesn't come to the table
6:41am - Turn on Spongebob in the sitting room (because we have a TV in every corner)
6:42am - Begin making Fake slurping and "mmmm" sounds to get Em to the table before I actually pour the milk
6:43am - Holler at Tracy to rise and gather the days outfit
6:45am - Place homework and lunchbox in backpack and remove items that have been secretly placed inside with hopes that she will possibly make it to class with the pack of candy
6:50am - Throw on some jeans, a hat and slip into my crocks
6:55am - Finish cup of coffee and watch the last few minutes of Spongebob while attempting to coax Em into dressing herself
7:00am - Start the car
7:01am - Brush away Em's cavity bugs
7:05am - Begin dressing and brushing the squirming little turd while listening to all three reason of why she needs to stay home
7:10am - Get Em to hug her Moms neck and head out the door
7:11am - Search for a Ke$ha or Katie Perry song that doesn't have the words "shit" or "sex" in them
7:12am - Settle for edited version of Bruno Mars
7:19am - Reach the back of a VERY LONG LINE of parents waiting to drop off the kiddos
7:24am - Finally reach the turn into the "drop zone"

OK. I'm sure you get the point now, but this is where the shit hits the fan. By this time I have carefully put together a precisely timed chain of events that places my daughter in her chair, in her classroom...RIGHT ON TIME. I have my moments though. I'm not above the "oh shit I over slept" issue every once in awhile. When it happens, we deal with it. We shave off whatever morning moments we have to to get back on track. However I DO NOT...  come over to your house and ask you to get my child ready because I'm late. I don't ask you to her backpack ready for me because I want extra "me time" this morning.

You see, there are some shitheads in the world that don't really care about what I go through in the mornings. They care less that I drag my ass around and fight the fight every morning to make sure that I don get to the car line 3 minutes late and see that its 2 miles long and that my baby girl will have to run to make it to class before the bell rings. If that happens because I screw up, then we live with it and make adjustments in my ritual to ensure that it don't happen again.  But some people just don't have respect for me (or you).

Every morning I reach the finish line of the fore mentioned drop zone and there is ALWAYS that son of a bitch that is cutting in line. Literally skipping the five or six minute wait that the rest of us deal with and cutting in right at the drop zone by going around the back way. EVERY...DAY. Well, this morning I had enough.

I resist rolling down my window and singing my rage to them or actually stopping my car and approaching them to speak to them about my anger with their case of Dipshititis in effort not to upset the virgin ears in the back seat. So I refuse to let this guy cut, cap my rage and wish Em a great day and wave. Once she clears the door and I round the corner safely away from miniature pedestrians and begin hunting for the Shitbag that purposely screws you and I to save 5 or 6 of his time because he hit snooze one too many times. I find him and get this picture:



Is this you?


I actually took two in case you couldn't read the plate in the first one. If you know this guy, PLEASE...give him an OHS for me and when he gets pissed, give him my contact information and let him know that I'm super excited to meet with him.

This isn't the only person. Not by a long shot. Every morning there is a douchbag waiting in the same spot in an attempt to shove your kid out of the line so that they can get to there Venti Coffee stop faster. If you know one of these people, tell them I said hi and that I'll be watching. I think that I will start a website dedicated to Scumbags and place their mugs on it for the whole world to hate. Kind like this guy.

I...HATE...PEOPLE...THAT...CUT...IN LINE!

J.C.

Loyalties

This was a topic that the wifey and I discussed over a brief lunch together. There’s really no way to tell you the REAL story because of the ramifications that would be sure to follow. This isn’t because of me, surely you understand by now that I could give a shit less especially in this case. It all boils down to where my loyalties lie, and the differences between men and women.

You see, I believe women have a problem with drawing lines in their friendships. I should say, at least I think my wife does anyway. She wants to be friends with everyone. I try and explain that this doesn’t work, and naturally “I’m wrong” she would be quick to state.  I say that there are four levels to Loyalty:

1)      Family

2)      Friendship

3)      Civility

4)      Screw off if you don’t like it

My wife (I think) believes it to be more like this:

1)      Family

2)      Friendship

3)      Friendly

That creates a problem with the fact that I just plainly, don’t like some folks. I’m not saying that I “hate” these people; I just don’t “like” them, this of course meaning that I have zero interest in being their friends. I may be civil, but when you fall into that category, civility has to be on MY terms, not yours. And of course, if they don’t like that option, they find themselves in the D category of loyalties.

In the last five years or so, I’ve met a lot of people that I actually like! Maybe I have started to see the good in people. Maybe it’s that people are seeing the good in me…either way. There are a lot of truly interesting people to meet if you can manage to get past some ‘issues’ they may have. Tracy and I have been meeting a lot of people here and there and it’s refreshing to hear new stories, even when its ‘friends of friends’ that we meet for the first time. Funniest thing to come from this is when my wife and one of her gossip buddies get together and decide that their husbands should be friends because they have SO MUCH in common (this means we both like to drink beer and watch sports). So I think it usually goes like this:

Friend says “OMG! Your husband is SO MUCH like my husband Richard.” So my wife replies with “I know! It’s crazy how much those two are alike! We really should get them together so that we can go and do what we want all the time, and they can do all that ‘guy stuff’!”

So what happens from there? They introduce us…out of the blue.

The other wife drags a guy over like he’s a six year old and says “Richard! I want you to meet Jason. Tracy and I think you two have a lot in common and would get along great!”

The women say nothing more and begin staring at us…the guy looks at me expressionless…I look at the guy…awkward moment follows. I mean, what the hell do you women think is going to happen at this moment? It’s as if you expect us to grab hands and run off giggling to the sand box. If you’re a guy, you’ve likely been in this situation. It never works out in this scenario. You should know by now that you have to set the “mood” if you want us to hit it off. Introduce us at a bar without any of our other buddies there…while a game is on. Trust me! If it’s gonna happen, this maneuver will work.

Is that a Pig on your head?

Regardless of how we may meet our friends, I still place them into categories. And as I mentioned, my wife doesn’t. She wants them all to be friends for reasoning that I believe to be is to get in on ALL the gossip. I’m not interested. I only want one side of the story from my friends. Why? Well let me tell ya! It’s because if you allow yourself to be friends with everyone, eventually you will find yourself listening to someone hating on another one of your friends and you then hear the ‘other side’ of the so called story. What do you do with this information? You have to decide. You can’t play for both teams. You have to decide who to believe. This is exactly why we pick who we want to ‘keep’ when our friends break up with each other. We take sides. That way we get to still hang out with the one we like better. True story.

When you hear both sides to a story, all you have is just that. A ‘story’. I don’t give a shit what my friend is doing wrong, as long as he isn’t diddling my friends wife or a danger to my kids. Everyone has some type of issues. You may say that some suck at their jobs. Some are lazy. Some are addicted to drinking. Some don’t pay their bills. Some are rude. Some have bad parenting skills and some may just be a waste of oxygen…to you! If they are MY friends, then they are still my friends even after you try and point that out. Why? Because I’m sure there are people out there that have stories to tell about me that are less than flattering. Some may be true and some may not. If my friends hear it and confront me for the story, I expect them to hear my side and believe it BECAUSE THEY ARE MY FRIENDS. Long story short, don’t try and play ball in the same division.

Let’s say that you meet me for the first time and I forget to show you some civility at that moment. Don’t (I really need the f-bomb here) whine about it for Christ’s sake. At that moment, I’m not you’re “A” or your “B”! If I were, you wouldn’t be passing judgment on me. After all, you don’t know me! I may have had a bad day. Maybe I’m pissy because I smashed my thumb. Maybe my dog died. Maybe I would rather be off drinking beer with MY A’s and B’s at the moment. You don’t know! And in turn, I…wouldn’t know! That is if you didn’t try and bitch to one of my friends or wife about MY attitude. You wanna see bad attitude? Confront me right then and there and we’ll see which category you fit it. I may apologize, I may explain, or I may just kick you in the nuts.

What I am trying to get at is this; my loyalties lie with my family and friends first and foremost. It doesn’t take a hell of a lot to be my friend either. I’m a fairly fun loving guy. If you have issue with me, I am very sorry but I’m not going to lose sleep over it. If I come off hateful or mean, you likely deserve it. If I seem quiet or like I‘m ignoring you, you should talk to me and I’ll explain why I’m not quite myself. Oh wait…that’s what friends do. I almost forgot.

Peace – Love – Friendship

J.C.

The Ol' Lady

I have to admit that after being snowed in the house these last few days the blogging hasn't been too easy to come by. My brain seems to have gone numb. Nothing comes easy when your locked up with a dump truck full of girlie hormones. I've had plenty to talk about but the few that I did write woulda got me in trouble, so they were vetoed by the misses. Plus they were mainly me being bitchy...

So this weekend I've found myself in Tulsa at a dance competition for the oldest and youngest. We finally got out of the house and it wasn't to shovel snow. They have dances all weekend and I have the privilege of being the noise maker during the intermissions with the ever famous "Hey! Ho!". Again, I take this role serious. So while I'm waiting to join all 12000 females and 15 guys at the convention center across the street I decided to introduce myself to the bar keeps down stairs to spread some wisdom (I.E. Charge my phone and drink beer). Seeing that the tenders to the bar are a little boring, I began a series of thoughts about my beautiful bride.

My wife and I have been married 9 years this month on the 23rd. Every day she does or says something that never fails to amaze me. Tracy got an iPad from Santa this year and when she opened it I truly believe that she shed some tears. You see, she's a mega gamer and social freak. She loves to be gabbing with all of her friends at all moments of the day, so the introduction of the iPad was like winning the Facebook Lottery coupled with a Nintendo. Instant euphoria. She mastered turning it on and downloading some of her favorite apps and games. She never managed to get the thing hooked up to the laptop to update it though. It was clearly too difficult to plug it in and follow the prompts. She simply doesn't have the patience to wait for a page to load. She'll think that there is something wrong if it don't take care of what she is thinking it should do. She never found the mind reader app for it.


A visual as to how long we have owned Blackberry's


Just yesterday we had the rare privilege to upgrade our cell phones. We've both waited quite some time to get to this point and seeing that Verizon was launching their iPhone the same week, it was somewhat of a no-brainer. We had been Blackberry owners for no telling how many years. But then again we're talking about Tracy. A few weeks back, shortly after Santa made her year, we were attempting to wake up on the couch drinking coffee and watching the Today Show as usual when her Blackberry setting next to me began to ring. I grabbed the thing and tossed it to her to answer. Problem? She missed it and *Plunk* right in her damned cup of Joe. She replies with the "Shit Jason!" and I immediately blame her for screwing up by not catching it. Either way I'm feeling my wallet in the next room screaming in pain for pinching off the $100 deductible this was fixing to cost me. In a last ditch effort to save the device from certain death, we place it in the bag-o-rice for several hours. Several hours later the phone works!!! For awhile...

The phone does work with the exception of one small thing. The speaker, the one you hear people talking from, doesn't work. She can call, text, Facebook and everything is fine, but she can’t hear anything. People would call and she would answer and quickly apologize for the fact that if she was going to answer them that she was going to have to text them back. In other words; big pain in the ass. But being the trooper she is, she sacrificed this inconvenience for more than a month to save the money before they would finally release the iPhone 4 on the 10th.

The Verizon folks were really prepared for the launch. They had live music scheduled, doughnuts, coffee, and the entire BS that goes along with your average Dog and Pony show. We went in and talked with them before hand to ensure that if we were actually going to be the stupid sons a bitches that you see on TV waiting in line at a store to get the latest tech gadget to hit the market, that it was what we really wanted. The goon at the Verizon store explained that there was going to be your typical dumb asses camping out to be one of the first people to get one but that there would be hundreds available. So if we were hoping to get our hands on one that day we should get in line early. Like 5 o'clock early... I'm callin bullshit, but Tracy is demanding that she's in line because she’s had it with the no phone crap, and I can't say a hell of a lot seeing that it was kinda my fault.

We had all the plans lined out to get up early and get there at the butt crack of dawn. And then IT happens! Hell freezes over! I mean the sky opened up and took a monster shit on NWA. It snows 2 friggin feet and gets to 14 below zero. It’s simple at this point; no way I'm standing outside in line for squat in that kinda weather! They could be giving out gold bricks and I'd pass. But not Tracy. She's gonna be there, hell or high water. And considering there's no way in Hades I’m letting her drive in two feet of snow, I have to drive. So I manage to make her understand that nobody is going to camp out in sub-zero degree weather and that if we get there at 7 when they open, surely we'll manage to get one of the "hundreds" of phones they are supposed to have and maybe get away with not standing outside. She bites and I squirm my way outta the situation.

We wake at 6am and drink a cup of Folgers, get the Jeep fired up and head out before the window can even defrost in fear that the line will be from here to Canada. On the way we take bets on the amount of stupid people that are sure to be in line. I wager on 15 max and then threaten to slap anyone that I see in a tent for being a waste of oxygen. We pull in and plow the Jeep through the parking lot to notice there is a sea of people alright. Thing is their all Verizon workers peering out the window looking for customers. We're pretty much the only people there. And to be exact, we walk in, meet our rep, step straight to the counter and we're number 16 on the sold list. Yeah. 16. Their party over the Big Launch had fizzled in the 20 inches of snow outside.

An hour later we get our phones and head to the house and Tracy is giddy like a fat kid in a candy store! This is one of my favorite things about my wife. She becomes just like one of the kids. She was so ecstatic she couldn't contain her happiness. Its small things like his that I like to do for her. She can look at me with those big blue eyes and I fall back into love with her all over again, and again. The day I married this woman I knew she was going to drive me nuts and make me extremely happy all at the same time. I'm going to give you some examples of some of the moments that define her in a nutshell:

1) One time she asked me: "How does a boat float?"

2) When told about her passenger seat having a "Seat Cooler" she begins to look for a drawer containing cans of Diet Coke.

3) She still don't understand how to play a DVD in the Playstation.

4) She likes to play poker.

5) She prefers Vegas over the beach.

6) She said "I do" to a guy like me.

7) She's still married to me even though she knows all the shit I've done in the past.

8) She loves everyone she meets even if they treat her like shit.

9) She's the best mother on the planet and is raising three smart, beautiful, strong minded young ladies.

10) When asked what she wants for our 10 year anniversary, she replies "I want to get married again."

I'm still amazed that she could love a guy like me.

I've written this for you all to read and hopefully I have your attention, because I did this for one reason. It wasn't to tell you a lame ass story about how we ended up getting new phones, but to speak openly to you all about my overwhelming love for Tracy A Curtis. You see, I couldn't think of anything I could get her for Valentine’s Day. I thought of writing a short note in a cheesy Hallmark card. I thought I may get her some flowers or some chocolates. But I decided to tell you all about the things I love about her. I love her smile when she realizes that I brought her a Cadbury Egg. When she gives me a hug with her arms draped around me and her head on my chest. When she laughs out loud and a snort squeaks out. When she cries. When she says she misses me. And likely most of all when she tells me she would marry me all over again! These are just a few of the things that make me truly happy to have found a woman that loves me.

We were married on a sunny Saturday afternoon the 23^rd of February, 2002 out on the deck of a cabin in Branson Missouri. We were meant to be together and I love her immensely! We have a song that we call “Ours”. It’s Etta James’ “At Last”. Here it is...

Tracy Annette Curtis. Happy Valentines Day! And if you'll have me, here’s to another 39 years being just as good as the past nine!!

I love you.

J.C.

MTV did WHAT?

I woke up this morning in what I consider to be a "hate fog". Not sure what brings these moods swings on but I'm sure that being a Monday didn't help things along. Every aspect of my surroundings was beginning to make me not mad, but furious.

Here in the last several weeks our family's devil dog, Sophie has began utilizing her internal alarm clock. She used to wake up when my alarm would go off and she would jump up on the bed and begin her pee-pee dance almost demanding that I rise immediately to let her out. Well, a few weeks back I changed her diet and for some reason that's when her clock began to go off on its own. So that's how my day began. A fluffy mutt that I didn't want in the first place waking me up without the option of a snooze button. Grr.

These moods of mine are somewhat manageable as long as my interaction with humans remains fairly low. Unfortunately, for my wife, she doesn't go to work until 10, so she bears witness to my shitty attitude. This morning consisted of:

Watching the Today show (as usual) and wanting to yell at Justin Bieber for not realizing that he, just like every other little shitty boy band, will not make it. Why do I even care?

Wanting to give out an OHS to Ann Curry for being a really bad morning show host. "There's a reason you are not the main host you dumb bitch! Cause you SUCK AT YOUR JOB!"

The coffee was really bad this morning and it's all Tracy's fault.

This pimple on my hairline refuses to go away and I'm approaching the moment of sawing it out with a pocket knife.

Let's make this look fun to some kids. WTF?

Then Tracy reminds me of last night’s conversation. We just came off a long weekend of dance competition with two of our girls and while at dinner with them and JJ (Al's Bonus mom). We somehow ended up talking about the shows on MTV, mainly of course the about the sitcom 'Skins'. This is a show that MTV has decided was such a ratings monster that they thought it would be good to put it on air. One problem: It's child porn. I mean, it has little kids screwing while on a blitz of drugs. Just who the hell are they targeting?

I see it one of two ways:

1) MTV is either targeting kids that are old enough to watch soft core porn, which puts them into an "Over 17" category. Then in turn means they are marketing kiddie porn to adults, or:

2) They are targeting my kids and wanting them to watch high school kids binge on alcohol, pot, pills and sex..umm..really?

Either one of those legal? Anyone? Anyone? I know that there are several people out there that want to make an argument about how we "shouldn't watch" if it offends us. I got something to say to that. "You’re a piece of shit looser and you love kiddy porn. You should be arrested and executed by hanging in the square downtown so that everyone can watch you squirm in pain you dirt bag pedophile." If your mind tells you that it's entertaining, then you should seek help before you hurt someone's kid.

I have children of my own. At the point that they were born, I decided that there were certain things that they were not going to do. These things involved anything I have ever done wrong. Yeah, I know. It makes me a hypocrite, right? Well shove it pal. If anyone out there thinks it ok for kids to watch, I have a simple question for those folks: "Do you have kids?" Simple question. Because if you do, you don't want them watching it, and if you condone it, your kids should be taken away from you.

Just because a show depicts real life events or some of the situations involving drug use are things we may have done as kids, does that mean we should train our kids to think "if they did it, it is ok for us to do it"? I'm sure that there's not a single parent out there believes that. I firmly believe that I got lucky by making it out of my adolescence without a felony conviction or an addiction that I couldn't shake.

I watched this one hour show for all of 15 minutes. It was just long enough to see a girl popping pills, sneaking out in hooker clothes and having sex with a girl. This while her other friends were sharing a joint in a bathroom stall in school. Had this been adults it would have been a pretty racy snippets of film. But it's high school kids! There is no mistake by looking at them that they are truly under 18. This is what your kid may be watching in their room. This isn't HBO. It's not Cinimax. It's MTV for crying out loud. Unbelievable.

If anyone reads this and disagrees with my reasoning, I DARE you to speak up. I'll go toe-to-toe with you for a little debate on how this shit is ruining the youth of today and just exactly how your helping..

And to think that I thought for awhile there was no reason for the parental block on our DVR's. Lesson learned.

J.C.