Bob’s Ramblings

My wedding anniversary is approaching once again and it’s normally about this time where I reflect back upon the last year and begin thinking if I have done everything that I could do to be the best husband that I can be to my wife. 

Sure I mess up at times.  I’ll ocassionally forget to put the seat back down or I’ll rip a loud one and blame it on the dog, but all in all I think I do pretty ok.  I’ve learned a lot from being married.  In fact,  I would tend to think that when it comes to relationships, I’ve become quite an expert.

For example:

“Do these shoes look ok?”  - the answer is always yes, even though I didn’t look at your feet.

“Does this outfit make me look fat?”  - the answer is always no.

“I’d rather not, but I will go if you really want to”  -  Face it, you’re not going.  Don’t try and convince her.

“I don’t care what we eat for dinner”  - keep guessing until you suggest what I’m really craving.

Sure, those are simple.   But every once in a while there comes that time when you make that incredibly stupid faux pas that you wish you could just forget about and move on.   I’ll fill you all in.

My little brother (he’s actually taller than me, and he hates when I refer to him as my little brother, but I’m not going to start calling him my younger brother anytime soon) is in the Navy.  He does Public Affairs for the Blue Angels.   As luck would have it, an air show was coming to the New Orleans area during the first weekend in May and he would be there.  So I spoke to my wife about it and she was thrilled.  No problem there.

But it also turned out that an ex-girlfriend of mine was coming into town with a couple of friends and asked me if I could talk to my brother about perhaps hooking them up with some special treatment of sorts.  Now, Monica and I are still friends, so I personally didn’t see anything wrong with it.  So I called up my brother and he said that he would hook her up with some VIP tickets.   She was grateful and I was happy to do her the favor.  My brother was also setting me up with some VIP tickets too as well as my friend Kevin.

So the day of the show, we get into the car and start traveling towards to New Orleans for the show.  I think it was right about the time I got on I-12 that my  brother called and mentioned that he was looking for me in the VIP section but didn’t see me yet.  I told him I was enroute. 

It was at that point that I began to panic.  Apparently, this VIP section was small enough for my brother to visibly identify everyone from where he was standing.  This meant that I would have no trouble locating my friend Kevin, but it also meant that the possibility of running into Monica was very likely.  So I kinda casually mentioned that it’s going to be really cool running into Kevin again.  My wife had never met him, so she was looking forward to meeting him.  She then asked if my older brother would be there and I said that we shouldn’t have any problem running into him.  She was pleased to hear that as well.  That’s when I dropped the bomb…. “Uh, oh, uh we may also kinda see my friend Monica there….”

<pause>

<pause>

“Monica? Like the girl you dated Monica?”

Oh shit! She remembers the name.  Shit shit shit.  “Umm, yeah. We may run into her.”

“We’ll be in the VIP section, so we shouldn’t see any of your ex.”

“Well actually, I kinda spoke to Chris and he hooked her up with some VIP tickets too….”

“And your telling me this now?  You didn’t think I needed to know this until now?” 

Apparently there are some things that I still have to learn, and believe me, school was in session that day.  We had to avoid Monica the entire time we were there.  I did get to say hello though.  I also had to promise never to ever pull this stunt again, which I heartily agreed to.

We stopped off at the Bud’s Broiler (I love that place) on Vets on the way out of town.  Susan never relented from what I had done, and I began to understand why.  As we were driving through Kenner to get back on the Interstate, I mentioned the upcoming reunions I had coming up.  One is my 20 year high school reunion and the other is one from Jr High.   I mentioned that my friend Michelle would be at both…

“Michelle? The girl you dated Michelle?”

“Uh, no.”

“Didn’t you date a Michelle?”

“Yeah, but that was in Baton Rouge, I didn’t go to school with her.”

“Who’s Michelle then?”

“She dated my friend David.”

“Oh ok.  Just don’t ever pull that shit on me again”

Believe me, I won’t.

Ramblings

Ok ok ok.  I’ll post something new very soon.  I’ve been jammed pack busy lately and my site has been neglected as a result.  Rather than rush a post today, I’ll take the time and post something tomorrow.  Perhaps something will inspire me between now and then.

Ramblings

I got a Facebook message yesterday that mentioned that I was F*cking Awesome.   I’m already well aware of how awesome I am.  I get it all the time.  

For example, when I am at the supermarket by my house,  I find it incredibly hard to shop when I have a constant array of strangers walking up and giving me high fives and mentioning just how awesome I am.   Also, when I’m checking out, the cashiers always comment on how awesome my shirt is and always ask where I get such awesome T-Shirts.  It’s part of a secret society composed of awesome individuals.  I’m not at liberty to discuss much more than that because doing so would make me; well, less awesome.

Well, to be completely honest, most of what I wrote up above is pure fiction.   I don’t get high fives from complete strangers.  If anything, I get confused looks from them when I attempt to give them high fives.  Normally parents hide their children from me and I always here the *click* of automobiles locking when I walk through a parking lot.  Ok, I’m lying here too.

Anyway, this post today is actually going out to pay homage to a dear friend of mine that I consider the epitome of awesomeness.  His name is Mike.  

Mike has the distinct honor (if you can call it one) of being considered my very best friend on the entire planet.  (Note to George: notice that I’m saying this planet.  You’re still my BFF outside of this solar system)

What can I say about Mike that most people don’t already know about him?  That’s a rhetorical question, because if you already knew about Mike, you wouldn’t even have to read this because you would already know that he is indeed awesome.

I first met Mike when I was 18 years old.  I was about a year out of high school and was working at Domino’s Pizza  (Yeah, I had high aspirations).  He was brought in as an MIT (Manager in Training) while I was already one.   Some hottie walked in to pick up her pizza and as she walked out the door, I heard the fateful words that brought Mike and I together in unity… “She wanted me.”  My jaw dropped, because at the time, I was going through this phase where I thought every woman wanted me (even though they didn’t), so to meet someone with as big of an ego as mine was just completely mind blowing.  The conversation that followed went something like this:

• Bob: Pfft, yeah right.  She wanted me.
• Mike:  Are you serious boy?  Do you not see perfection standing in front of your very eyes?
• Bob: Yeah, right about the time when I look in the mirror.
• Mike:  I think what we have here is the beginnings of a new friendship.  Two studs working under the same roof.  Baton Rouge isn’t quite ready for this.

At the time, Mike was 22.  Seeing as how I’m 37 now, this makes that conversation nearly 18-19 years old.  So some of the specifics elude me.  

Shortly thereafter, Mike and I became roomates.  We did the whole answering machine message thing and had fun with it.  It went something sorta like this:

We’re really glad that you called on the phone.

Leave your name and your number at the sound of the tone.

This is Mike

This is Bob too

And we’re better known as the “PLEASURE CREW”

We’re Mike and Bob and we aim to please

We like babes better when they’re on their knees

You might think we’re silly, you might think we’re sick

But if you don’t like it, you can suck my…

Yeah, those were good times.   We ended up having to change it because Mike was switching jobs and was waiting on a call back after an interview.  We made a new one that was a follow up to that one, but it was really crude.  We even named our apartment, ‘The Pleasure Palace’

The span of events that transpired as a result of this partnership are not suitable for posting.   There are tons of stories and I’ll just leave it at that.

Of course, we got older, and responsibilities started creeping up.  Maturity started kicking in as well, and Mike was about to do the inevitable and get married. 

Now Mike, had been married previously, but it was breaking up when I met him, so he was about to get married for the second time.  This time to Randi.  I could write another whole post on Randi, because she was so fucking cool, she could make ice by dipping her fingers in water (not really, but you get the point).   It was no surprise that Mike made me his best man.  We were best friends through and through.   We had each others backs for years and inseparable.  

Mike and Randi eventually split up.  There was a bit of news afterwards surrounding Randi, but I’m not going into that, because I still tear up when I think about what Randi must have gone through.  Mike went on to marry Holly and they moved to Arizona.  Then he moved to Kansas and now he’s back in Louisiana.

He’s been back in Louisiana since the beginning of 2009, and I have yet to talk to him or hang out with him since he’s been back.  But we will.  We always end up meeting back up and enjoying one another’s company.  And as much as I pump up the fact that he’s just so awesome, he’d argue to everyone that I was even more awesome than him.   

Mike and I have the strongest bond that two heterosexual (I stress that) men could have. 

We never fought once.  We never yelled at one another.  We were always just cool.   That’s why I’m writing this today.  This is a tribute to you Slick (that’s my nickname for Mike, because he was just so fucking slick when it came to women).  You’re still my best buddy and always will be.

Ramblings

Growing up, I was always a dog person.  I remember my mom letting me pick out our first family dog.  It was a miniature Schnauzer named Duchess.   Over time, we had another schnauzer named Chelsea.  Both of them are long gone now, but somewhere along the way I became a cat person.

I suppose some of the blame falls on my friend Kevin.  I’m not lying, the guy must of haved about 10 cats living in his house.  Which of course is good if you like cats.  But it’s particularly bad if you don’t like cat urine.

But, the person that deserves the most credit for turning me into a cat person is Monica.   Monica was someone that I dated several years back.  She was a lot of fun and it was quite clear that she loved animals. Monica had an array of animals in and around her home, and she had quite an affinity for cats.  Oooooh, she loved cats.

Well, one evening Monica came over to my apartment and noticed a big black cat lying on someone’s car in the parking lot.  She told me that I needed to get some food and feed the poor baby.  So I did.  Well, anyone that has ever fed a stray cat knows that once you feed a stray cat, that cat will NEVER go away.  This cat began to stalk my door.  As I would walk out in the morning, he would run up to my door and demand food.  So I fed him.  The next thing I know, the cat is in my apartment, and then I’m taking him to the vet and I’m getting him fixed and as I move from that apartment, I’m taking him with me.  So over the course of a few months, I became a cat owner, and named my big black cat, Shaft.

That was nearly twelve years ago.  Some things have changed since then.   My mailing address has changed a few times.  My waist line continues to get larger.  I have hair growing in weird places, and I now have 4 cats.

When I got married nearly 3 years ago, there were very few animal control issues in our home.  She had a dog and I had a cat.  It was simple.

• Give dog food, give cat food.
• Let dog out, clean litter box.
• Let dog back in, beat the cat for scratching the furniture.

It was easy.  But controlling the number of animals in your home becomes increasingly difficult when an extra added element is thrown in that most people don’t take into consideration;  the ever popular “Can we keep him?” phrase.

Trace saw a little kitten outside while playing basketball with one of his friends and thought that I would just jump at the idea of keeping a new kitten.  Why?  Oooh, because I like cats.  He had proof, I brought one with me when I married his mom.  So imagine the look on his face when I adamantly refused.  “Hell no, don’t ask me again, we don’t need anymore pets in this house. No!”  He went to mom and she convinced me to let him stay inside for a few nights because it’s “cold” outside.

I’m a sucker.  I agreed to let this animal in my house because it’s cold outside.  I’m telling you though, this animal knew I was opposed to the idea because this cat crapped on my favorite blanket, not once, but twice.  After the second time, my wife convinced me to throw it away and buy me a new one.  Well, after a while, I warmed up to the kitty and Susan’s sister convinced me that this kitty was a male, so we named “him” Xander.

While this was going on, there was a stray hanging out outside of our back door.  “He” was so cute because “he” was tailless and looked like a little bunny rabbit.   Once again, I attempted to disprove the feeding of the stray theory by feeding “him” only to learn that I had been duped once again by a notorious feline.

As the weeks went on, and I fed my 2 inside cats and now my 1 outside cat, I began to notice that Xander was getting a little thick around the edges.  I mean thick.  Enough for me to ask my wife how much food she was giving “him”.  A trip to the vet confirmed my fears, Xander was not a “him” he was a “her” and was very pregnant.  The next thing you know, I’m becoming a worried father and crap and babying Momma Xander and making sure she’s all comfortable all of the time.  I would ridicule Trace playing too rough with her and I’m making sure she’s being taken cared of all of the time.

We went out of town for Easter (we always go to my father-in-law’s in Houston) and I had a neighbor pop in and check on Momma Xander like 3 times a day because I was sure she was going to have her babies while I was out of town. She didn’t.  We got a call from the neighbor once we got home and she informed me that she thought TK (Tailless Kitty) was pregnant also.  How could that be? TK is a boy.  Right?  Wrong.  I’m not about to have two pregnant cats in my house, so she’ll have to make do on her own.

On April 1, 2008 Xander started acting all weird by meowing excessively and following me around the house.  I became concerned, so I decided to stay home from work that day because I was certain her babies were coming that day.  (Hmm, weird, I took April 1 off this year too. Not planned.)  So I made her a little comfy spot in the closet because it was dark and thought I would hang out with her for the day.  I brought a book, a pillow and my Nintendo DS in there with me to keep her company.  She didn’t have her babies though.  She did during the night.  She ended up having 6 overall, but 1 didn’t make it.

Anyway the next couple of days were filled with ooooooohs and ahhhhhhhhs from all of us admiring the little babies.   Only a few days had passed since Xander (still inappropriately named) her babies when I noticed that TK was acting all weird outside.  Shit.  I knew what this is.  I saw Xander acting this way just four days before.  So I made a little comfy area for TK in my shed outside, propped the door open and left some food for her.   I went inside to let me wife know and to show her to spot in the shed, when I was actually witnessing TK giving birth to her 4 kittens.

We let a couple of days go by and we kept checking on TK’s babies, but were surprised one morning when all four od her babies were missing.  Gone.  Nowhere to be found.  Except I did find them, in a box of tools and stuff in the shed.  TK had hidden her babies.  So thinking that I couldn’t handle the idea that those poor defenseless kittens would accidentally get hurt, I relented and allowed TK and her babies into the house.

So at that point, I had 1 dog, 1 male cat, 2 female cats, and 9 kittens under one roof.   It worked out fine for a few weeks, but then those little eyes started to open up and they began to wander around the house.   It got to a point where we had to literally perform what we called, a “baby count” before leaving the house.  Believe me, it was much harder than it sounds.  “One, two, three, fou….wait, I counted that one already…stay still, ok, one, two, three, stop moving damnit!”  Instead it was like, “Ok, I have 2 tailless ones over here, I see 2 black ones over there, there are two gray ones with white paws over by the window, two gray ones with gray paws rolling around in the crap and Socks is taking a nap on the couch.  Let’s go!”

We found a home for TK quite easily.  The neighbor’s parents took her.  My boss and his family took four kittens and we gave 3 kittens to a friend of a friend.  We decided to keep the two tailless ones.

So that brings me back to where I am now.  Taz (the dog), Shaft (the immortal black cat), the female cat named Xander, and my two babies; Chubs and Piglet.   I’ve been thinking a lot about my kittens this past weekend, because yesterday they became 1 year old.  My wife thought I was crazy for wanting to get them birthday presents, but she allowed me to anyway.

As last night winded down, I pretended to talk like one of the kittens out loud while my wife was in the room… “This was the best birthday I’ve ever had daddy!”  To which she responded, “It’s a good thing I love you, because you’re freaking weird.”

Ramblings

I took a day off from work yesterday.   Yeah, I told my wife that I was going to take a day off and get likes tons of stuff done.  Damnit, I was going to be all responsible and be a good husband and it would be all neat and stuff.

The conversation went sorta like this: “I’m going to take the day off and get some stuff done around the house today.  I’m going to do laundry, I’m going to hang that ceiling fan in the spare room, I’m going to bring Taz and Shaft to the vet, I’m going to go to Wal-Mart, I’m going to pick Trace up from school, I’m going to clean the kitchen, and I’m going to cut the grass.   Here I am, saying that I’m going to do all this stuff, but I won’t have time to get it all done, but I’m going to do my best.”

So, how did the day turn out?  Well, despite the fact that I was taking the day off, I still managed to wake up before the alarm clock.  I decided to let my wife sleep a little longer and got up and did the daily ritual of getting Trace up and off to school.   I then throw some stuff into a crock pot so dinner can cook throughout the day.  As my wife was dressing for work, I began to gather the animals for the trip to the vet. 

Getting Taz (the extremely fat chihuahua) into the car is as easy as luring him with a dog treat.  Yeah, like he needs another dog treat.  Getting Shaft into the cat carrier was a feat all unto itself.   He’s the only one of our cats that still has his front claws and he intended to use them.  He weighs like 15 pounds and he’s solid.  Shaft has learned how to use his appendages to keep me from pushing him into the cat carrier.  I was kinda like, “Come on! It’s not like I put you into this thing all of the time!”  After I managed to squeeze him in, he began to howl.  His howling is not pleasant to say the least.

So I get to the vet with the intention of leaving them there for the day and heading off to Wal-Mart.  The receptionist chick tells me that they will see my pets now, so I decided to wait.  So I go into the little room with Taz and Shaft and the woman shows me an easier way to get Shaft in and out of the cat carrier.  Apparently, I wasn’t aware of what those little knobs and crap were on the outside of the carrier that will allow the top and bottom of the carrier to separate.  Go figure, I’ve had that carrier for 10 years and I’m finally learning how to use it.   I’m not going to go into details of the trip to the vet.  Let’s just say that my pets didn’t care for getting their temperature taken and I consider myself grateful that my temperature can be taken by putting a thermometer in my mouth.

So, the trip to Wal-Mart is out because well, I have the pets in the car.  So I bring them home.  I took the advice of a friend and cracked open a beer.  As a sat in my spot on the couch, I thought, “You know, you should really try and catch up on one of those episodes of Smallville”.  So I did.  Afterwards, I noticed that I still had like 5 more episodes to catch up on, but thought that I should really watch that movie that Susan doesn’t care to see so I can get a new one from Netflix.  So I put “The Grudge 2″ on and began watching it.  I wasn’t impressed.  Any horror movie where I began to drift off to sleep isn’t worthy of any mentioning. 

I look at the clock and see that it’s a little after 1 now.  Crap, I have a den meeting tonight.  I’m going to have to go to Wal-Mart anyway.  So I hop in the shower and head over to Wal-Mart.  I then decide to pick Trace up from school on the way home.   By now it’s 3:30 or so.  I decide to make an attempt at doing laundry, but end up only changing our sheets.

I then sit down and watch another episode of Smallville.  Trace comes home from playing and we head off to the den meeting.

Later that evening, Susan asks, “So what did you do today on your day off?”

“Ummm, I took the pets to the vet, watched Smallville, watched The Grudge 2, drank a beer, went to Wal-Mart, picked up Trace from school, watched Smallville and uhhhh, I think that’s it.”

She then responded with, “So you pretty much slacked off today?”

Yeah, pretty much.  Leisure Rules.

Ramblings

I caught myself saying “It’s going to be one of those days” to my wife this morning. I’m not entirely sure what “one of those days” entails. But people say it from time to time while being completely unaware of what it means themselves.

Who was the first person to use that phrase? And what guidelines was that person using to compare “one of those days” to?

Was it back in medieval times when knights were shining their armor and realized that his squire neglected to shovel up his steed’s poo and thus stepped into it? Did he at that point mutter under his breath, “I thinketh that tis wilt be one of those days”?

Well regardless of where the phrase originated, I’m thinking that I’m doomed to have one of those days. (Without the horse shit).

Today marked one of the first times in recent memory where my alarm clock actually woke me up. Normally, I beat the alarm clock by 20-30 minutes, which I use to get the kitchen situated. Not today though, so I knew I was going to be a little behind. I proceeded to make my way into Trace’s room, and nearly stepped in cat vomit.

Damn cats. I love them to death, but why do they insist on throwing up on the carpet when we have hardwood floors that are so much easier to clean up than the carpet? I mean, most of our floors are either hardwood or tile, but they feel the excessive need to throw up on the plush carpet.

I had to get back to the task at hand and get Trace up for school though, so after a quick wiping of the carpet I make a mental reminder to come back and thoroughly clean this up. Oh, I see Trace is already awake and dressed for school, this means that he’s ready to eat breakfast, and seeing as how I’m even more behind than I originally thought, I need to get his breakfast going.

I make my way into the kitchen and see the pile of dishes in the sink. Normally, I’m quite anal about doing the dishes before going to bed at night, but I treated myself to some TV instead and figured that I would get them in the morning. Damnit! I forgot, I need to empty the dishwasher from last night too.

So here I am. A sink full of dirty dishes, a dishwasher full of (I’m assuming clean) dishes, a hungry child, and no coffee. Ok. I can’t make coffee until the sink is empty. I can’t empty the sink until the dishwasher is empty, and now Trace is being the most hyper kid I’ve ever been around. He’s going non-stop with his talking and I need to remind myself that he’s 8. I get his breakfast made and sit him at the table. I begin to wonder how on earth he’s able to eat those pancakes while talking constantly.

I open the dishwasher and learn that for whatever reason, it didn’t run. So now I have a full dishwasher of DIRTY dishes, a sink full of dirty dishes and still no coffee. I must have said something along the lines of “Damnit!” because Trace commented that I had used a bad word. Whatever.

I slam the damn dishwasher shut and begin to hand wash the dishes in the sink because I’m going to need coffee STAT. Finally! I’m able to get coffee going, but it’s going to be at least 10 minutes before it’s ready. Trace goes off to brush his teeth and makes a comment about a cat throwing up. Oh yeah, I need to clean that up! So I proceeded to do so.

My coffee pot beeps to inform me that the coffee is ready, but by now it’s 7:20 and I need to get Trace outside for the bus. Normally, the bus driver is very prompt. Not today. One of our neighbors has a son that gets on the bus at the end of our driveway and she comments about it as well. The time is now 7:40 when the bus arrives and we notice that it’s a different bus than normal, so the normal bus must have broken down or something. Whatever. Not my issue.

I walk back in the house and pour myself a nice hot cup of coffee and sit at my computer while my wife finishes up in the shower. She comes on out, walks into our computer room and mentions that the air conditioner isn’t working. We have air conditioner problems. The drain pan fills from time to time and needs to be drained. I need to figure out how to fix that problem for good.

As I begin ramming my head into my desk, my wife asks, “What’s wrong?” To which I reply, “I think it’s going to be one of those days…”

Ramblings

Baseball just started in our little community and Trace has recently started practicing with his new team. They draft teams each year, so he’ll see some familiar faces and some new faces. Well, Trace was fortunate enough to be on the same team with Devon. Devon’s dad was Trace’s basketball coach this past season (they went 10-0 - Woot!) so it was really neat to see Trace’s basketball coach again and talk with him some more. Anyway, at one of the recent practices, I had a good opportunity to talk with Devon’s dad for an extensive amount of time. The topic of parenting came up and he went on to tell me about how much admiration he has for stepparents.

Now in case some of you out there don’t know, I am Trace’s stepfather. I married his mother roughly 3 years ago, but she and I have been together since before Trace’s 2nd birthday.

Back to the story though, Dany (Devon’s dad) explained to me about his wife being a stepmother to his oldest son and truly adores her for accepting this child from a previous marriage as if he were her own. He commented further by saying that if he didn’t know any better, he would have thought Trace was my own because I’m always the one he sees at practices, I’m always the one he sees at every game.

He found it quite odd that Trace’s father just doesn’t make the effort to be there for his own son because when he and his wife split up, he made it a point (including changing jobs) to make sure he was a part of his son’s life. He said that he thinks he saw Trace’s dad at the very last basketball game, to which I said, “yes, he was, but Susan had to guilt him into going.” Dany shook his head and told me that Trace was indeed lucky to have a stepfather willing to do whatever it took to make sure Trace didn’t do without the experiences that all kids should have growing up. It made me feel good. I like doing things for Trace.

However, with being the stepfather, there are times when it’s not that great either. Father’s Day is hard on me. It really sucks that his a**hole of a father gets to go months without calling or seeing his son, but makes sure he swoops in on Father’s Day to pick up his son. I told this to Dany, and he comforted me by saying, “Bob, that is the tough part of being the step. But trust me, it gets easier. It may be years from now, but when he gets old enough, he’ll think back and you’ll be the one he remembers as doing all these things with him.”

That same day, my wife and I picked up iPhones. I told Trace that when I got an iPhone, I would give him my old phone for him to use. Well, I couldn’t get back into the car before he was asking me for my old phone. Of course, I chuckled, because he’s 8 and wouldn’t expect anything less than that.

A few days later, his a**hole of a father called the house. We always let Trace answer it because, well, neither Susan nor I want to talk to the bastard (if we can help it). Trace went on to tell his father that he has a phone now and was smiling about it. It was at that point when he said, “My mom and dad just got iPhones, so now I have a phone…”

My jaw dropped, but I have to admit, it made me giddy to hear him refer to me as his dad (especially to his dad).

Ramblings

Lately, I’ve become more and more active on Facebook. Don’t get me wrong however, I don’t sit on it all day, but I try my best at updating my status regularly and so forth. Facebook had done two things for me. The first of which was to reconnect with former classmates.

Looking back at my childhood, my fondest memories are the ones from my years at Vernon C Haynes Jr High School. Haynes is a magnet school now, but back when I was there, it wasn’t. I had some truly great classmates back then. A lot of good memories to reflect back on. I made some good, solid, and quality bonds with some of my classmates back then. I truly felt sad during my last few days on my ninth grade year, knowing that the classmates that I had was about to be split among different high schools in the area. I took steps to make sure that I got to stick with my best friend through high school and attend East Jefferson. Even though I got to continue on with David, I knew I would lose contact with great friends like Richard Howe and Eddie Painter. I was fortunate enough however to know that at least some of my classmates from Jr High were going on to East Jefferson as well, but not all of them.

Facebook has allowed me to see what all of those former classmates of mine are up to. I truly enjoy thinking back and reminiscing of those days of old.

However, Facebook also reminds me of the days where I was in a dark place. The years that followed the glorious days of Haynes (specifically my years at EJ) were very hard on me. I went through a lot of inner turmoil and emotions that I have up to this point repressed.

During the early months of my Junior year, I suffered the loss of a dear friend in a car accident. I still think of her to this day, and I still pledge to memoralize her in some way. A couple of months later, my mom got a transfer to Baton Rouge. She had informed me that I would have to pick up and move and start fresh. I wasn’t having any of that as I begged and pleaded for her to find some way to keep me from starting over. She agreed to allow me to stay with my grandmother so that I wouldn’t have to change high schools midway through. A couple of months later, my friends had talked me into running for Senior Class president. Unfortunately, I lost. During my campaign however, I managed to alienate myself from the majority of the class of ‘89. Granted, I still had some good friends at EJ, some that I appreciate for not turning their backs on me. I pissed some people off. A lot of them. It was at this point where that move to Baton Rouge was becoming appealing. But my friends stood behind me. I truly enjoyed that. That’s what made them my friends. It was only after the election that some of the ones that I pissed off approached me and asked that I become part of the Senior Class council the following year. I heartily agreed as it showed acceptance on their behalf.

When my Senior year started, I stayed with my grandmother again. I enjoyed the good times that seniors enjoy (i.e. Ring Day). But right before Christmas of 1988, my grandmother had passed away. I was shattered. My uncle and my older brother were staying at the house, so I could continue to stay there as well and finish off the last few months of high school. But it was hard. Very hard. I had no direction. I lost focus. My grades began to slip. And the relationships that I had formed with friends outside of school began to deteriorate.

I think that’s what gets me the most. I didn’t care about who I pissed off at EJ because I thought I had a great group of friends outside of school. Weekly plans of hanging out with this circle of friends grew dismal. I was gradually faded out of the circle along with my friend Kevin. It almost seemed like we became the outcasts. The phone calls that I normally get inviting me to this place and that, stopped. I had no idea why, but I knew I had Kevin. Kevin stood by me and we hung out more and more. We became family.

When graduation day came, I shed numerous tears when my mom informed me that she wouldn’t be able to make it to the ceremony. Both my uncle and brother would also be unable to attend. I was lost and alone. Kevin was there though. He made sure I got there. And even though he knew David, I kinda felt like he was there for me. I appreciated that.

So here I am. Going on and on about what Facebook has done for me. I am grateful for being able to catch up with friends of old. I just wish it wouldn’t have brought up some of these old feelings that I repressed so long ago. Things that were unresolved and will continue to be unresolved. I only hope that I can find a way of blocking those things out again.

Ramblings

My wife and I listen to the Walton and Johnson show (Eagle 98.1) every morning on our way into work. Yesterday they were talking about Hayden Panettiere and about how much of a diva she is. For those of your that are unfamilar with Ms. Panettiere, she is the woman that plays the cheerleader on NBC’s Heroes.

Well, hearing them go on and on about her, it reminded me of an event that happened to me which involved this same Ms Panettiere. My wife suggested that I call into the W&J show and tell them my story, but instead, I sent an email from their website www.waltonandjohnson.com instead. Since the email was sent using the form on the website, I don’t have the original email in my sent items. Instead, I will retell the tale…

Dragoncon is a Science Fiction/Fantasy convention that is held annually in downtown Atlanta during Labor Day weekend. It’s a good time for me to get together with some friends (inluding my best friend from High School - David) to take in the convention, eat well, and catch up with one another. One of the guests that was appearing at Dragoncon 2008 was no other than Hayden Panettiere.

All of the mainstream guests can be found in a huge ballroom, with tables set up so they can sell autographed pictures of themselves for fans. I don’t typically buy these pictures, but my friends will occasionallly indulge because they’re into that sort of thing. My friends David and Brian decided to get in Robert Englund’s (Freddy Krueger) line because they had never met him before and wanted his autograph. I stood in line with them because I thought it would be cool to shake Freddy Krueger’s hand (sans bladed glove). At this point I noticed Ms Panettiere had no one in her line. I told my friends that I would be right back and that I wanted to meet Hayden and let her know that I enjoy her work.

I approached Ms Panettiere and said simply, “I just wanted to come by and say hello, and that I love your work on Heroes.” Now, these guests that appear at these conventions normally have an assistant working with them or “handler” that help peddle their pictures and stuff. Hayden Panettiere had two. The first one (the woman) told me that I had to get in line if I wanted to talk to Hayden. I looked at the woman and said, “there is no one in line.” The woman pointed to a piece of tape on the ground and told me that the line began there. I saw the piece of tape on the ground, but there was no one standing behind it. I decided to humor the handler and walked over to the piece of tape, stood firm for a few seconds and then approached Ms Panettiere once again. At this point, the handler asked me if I was going to purchase one of the photographs, to which I replied, “No. I just want to say hello.” The woman then raised her hand waved at me and simply said, “Goodbye.”

I turned and began walking back to my friend that were still standing in Robert Englund’s line when an Atlanta police officer came up to me and asked me to talk with him for a moment. I obliged and politely asked, “Is there a problem officer?”. The police officer responded by saying, “I’m escorting you out of the convention.” A friend of mine ran in front of us and asked the police officer to stop because he wanted to take a picture of the cop holding my arm and walking me out. The police officer told my friend that this was not a joke and that I was leaving. At this point, I started to become a bit agitated and started asking the officer if this was some sort of a joke. He said that I was leaving the convention because I was making inappropriate remarks to one of the guests.

I was stunned. I asked the police officer, “Who?” After escorting me out of the ballroom, he started to question me by asking me specifically what I had said to Ms Panettiere. I responded by saying, “I said Hi.” He repeatedly asked me is there was anything else, to which I responded, “No. All I said was hi.” The officer starts referring to me by name at this point because everyone attending the convention is required to wear a badge with a name on it. He tells me that Ms Panettiere has left the area and is enroute to her hotel room because I had approached her in a threatening manner. I adamantly plead my case and inform the officer that this has to be some sort of a joke and that all I said was hi. He then asked me why I keep harassing Ms Panettiere. I ask him what he meant because that was the very first time I had even seen the woman. He then informed me that he’s not accusing me of anything, but that he has to take any allegations like this seriously.

At this point, I decided to use some logic and asked him if he would escort Ms Panettiere out of the convention if I told him that I felt threatened by her. He snickered. I then demanded to speak to convention personnel. He instructed me to stay put where I was standing (which I was happy to do so because I wasn’t guilty of anything) and returned with two members of Dragoncon personnel. They took down my name and asked me what happened and I told them that I simply said hello to the girl and the next thing I know, I”m being escorted out. They then informed me of an incident that occurred earlier in the day where someone dressed in football attire (I was wearing an LSU shirt) was harassing her, but acknowledged to the police officer that I was not the guy from earlier.

The officer agreed to release me, but asked if I would stay away from Ms Panettiere (which I was absolutely happy to oblige). I called my friend via my cell phone to let them know where I was so they could find me (going beyond my willingness to oblige the officer’s wishes).

Our trip was cut short last year due to the impending hurricane that was bearing down on Louisiana. My friends and I had to rebook our flights and pack up a day early. As we were heading toward the Marta, I happened to run into the same police officer. As I approached, he smiled and shook his head. I told the officer that I harbored no ill feelings towards him and that I understood that he was only doing his job.

He looked at me and said, “Bob, you need to try and let it go. You can’t help it if….” My friend Randy interjects at this point and says, “She’s a bitch!” The police officer smiles and said, “Have a nice trip.”

Ramblings

Ok, I have to give some credit to a coworker for turning me on to The Lonely Island.   He sent the original link to me of the ‘Jizz In My Pants’ video that can be found on the right hand side of the site.

After watching the video the first time, I felt compelled to watch it again.  And then again, and then again.  I would go to the grocery and the lyrics would just pop into my head.  I couldn’t go anywhere without the words to that song going through my mind.  I had to share the video with everyone.   My sister-in-law came into town with her fiance’ and I wouldn’t let them put their luggage down without first showing them the video.

Then I heard about their album Incredibad.  I checked it out.  Holy shit! I can’t stop listening to it.  I’m going to put a link to the other videos that accompany some of the songs on the album.  “I’m On a Boat” is just too damn funny on so many levels.

So if you’re looking for an entertaining album, check out Incredibad by the Lonely Island.

http://www.thelonelyisland.com/

Ramblings