Tree Trauma Trun'k'ated
Stop the presses! Light the fireworks! The tree trimmers finally arrived (Thursday) and trimmed the tree in my backyard! As I mentioned in the July 1st post, my next door neighbor, Ms. Fossil has been losing sleep over my tree's branches hanging precariously over her storage shed in her back yard, like some dark evil. She's been relentless in calling me to check on the status of the trimming. Thank god, they came when they did. I was beginning to search online for Jim Jones' Kool-Aid recipe.So, the guys (5) show up at 8:30 and I take the guy who seems to be in charge, to the back and we go over which branches are to be cut. I'm kinda nervous, because (again), English isn't his forte, so I end up using my hands a lot, when talking to him about what limbs need to be removed, etc. I inadvertently pick a large branch that wasn't one of the ones that was included in the original estimate, and he said it was way too big and that it would cost more, so I just told him to go ahead and cut the ones closest to her shed's roof and that that should be fine. So, before they can get to work, I have to call Ms. Fossil and let her know that they have to get into her backyard. I call and alert her and then all systems are go.
I don't want to be under the tree trimmer's ass the entire time he's working, like my mom used to do whenever we had service men out, or breathing down their neck, like when the clerk at the grocery store was ringing up the groceries (that was "quiet time" and any conversation from me was met with a "Shush!" through gritted teeth. Thanks, mom). However, I had to keep vigil on Ms. Fossil's yard, via the den window, in case she decided to waddle out there and "coach." I told the guy when he first got here, that she might try to come out and dictate which branches to cut, but reminded him that she ain't payin' for it/ So, should there be any doubts, just come get me
and I'd be more than happy to help clear up any misconceptions. Well, Ms. Fossil must have realized it was in her best interest (and health) that she stay safely indoors. Afterall, we wouldn't want any of those nasty branches driving her sweet, little body into the ground, like some sort of gray-haired tent spike, now would we?So, about an hour and a half passes (I had lots of brush piles, too), and the guy comes to the door to let me know they're finished. He goes with me to the backyard to check it out, and 'lo and behold, who do you think magically appears, like some sort of geriatric leprechaun? You guessed it. Ms. Fossil. She's already there, inspecting. First off, let me say they did an amazing job. It looks really great and made a world of difference. They picked up ALL the debris from trimming the tree and even got the few dead branches (all 5) that had fallen from my tree (the ones she's been obsessing over and repeatedly reminding me of, for the past month).
I'm really pleased, but guess who has 2¢ to contribute? Right, again. Ms. Fossil. Instead of having something positive to say about how good it looks, she points out the one branch (the one that I had originally picked out and was subsequently told was way too big and high and would cost more) and says "I don't know... don't you think that one should come down, too? It's still hanging over the roof of my shed and I'm worried what will happen if it falls." Well, short of a 300lb squirrel deciding to use it as a trampoline or a stray bolt of lightening, it ain't coming down. It's healthy, it's at least 50ft above the roof and doesn't show any signs of being thin and/or brittle. I tell her "Not anytime soon. He just finished trimming what I can afford. That's it for today (I was tempted to add a "buy-bye now. buh -bye," but didn't)." The guy even says that he doesn't see any reason for concern. I then tell her (to deter any future phone calls or impromptu chats, on the way to my car) that "should there be any more branches fall in her yard, to just have her yard men toss them over into my yard", not unlike the little pile she had them deposit near my A/C unit. Fuckin' petty old dwarf! And she (get a load of this) looks to the tree trimmer guy and actually has the gall to say "Oh, I'm not worried about the branches that fall in the yard, just the roof of the shed." WTF? I have to control myself from leaping over the fence and giving her an enema with her own lawn angel. Sideways! She's been bitching about the fucking branches from day one. Geez. She then continues repeating her concerns all over again about the roof. I whisper to him "she needs some alone time, let's go get that check I owe you," while making "she's cuckoo" eyes in her direction, and we walk away, leaving her to commune with nature. Good riddance.
posted by Kirkkitsch @ 8:58 AM
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Okay, I admit it. I'm guilty. That's right, I readily admit that I have rented and/or sat through movies I cared nothing about, just to get to the beefcake. I have no regrets. Don't look at me like that, I'm sure you've done it before too. I know for a fact some of my friends have done it. My friend, Nathan, for example, just admitted that he's actually going to pay money to go see Halle Barry's new litterbox fodder, Cat Woman. But who am I to scoff, I've sat through worse. Much worse. At least his movie will have big name stars, cutting-edge special effects and a budget that rivals The Matrix. While, the movies I've sat through were lucky if they got on set catering from the likes of Hot Pockets.
Growing up gay in a small town, surrounded by less-than-accommodating hicks, kinda limits your access to gay-themed movies, much less all-male action. I had to be creative and just a little bit sneaky. Having a muscle/bodybuilder fetish early on, I'd rent movies like:
As you can see, more than a few of them were those godawful "sword and sandal"-type movies and a couple of them starred Arnold Schwarzenegger, who has masterful pecs, but whose mentality is for the birds. But then who really cares how big a hot guy's brain is? Looking back at some of them, I realize how my tastes have evolved over time and also come to the realization just how bad 80's hair really was. I still buy/rent the occasional movie for the voyeur in me, but I've noticed that more and more of the actors I like, leave me cold in the bod department, but have beautiful faces and/or aspects to their personalities: Vince Vaughn, Richard Gere, Jude Law, Antonio Banderas, Johnny Knoxville, Craig Bierko, Nicholas Brendon, Carson Daly (I know. Everyone thinks he's a tool), Eminem, etc. Don't get me wrong, I still like the bods, but the faces & personalities seem to have moved up on the priorities list. Who knows, maybe I'm evolving.
Final Cut. Starring Jude Law. ©1998
Cruel Intentions 3. Starring Kerr Smith. © 2004
The Triplets of Belleville. © 2003
Classic TV Commercials. © 2003
I estimate that approximately 9% of my past friendships eventually ended once that person/couple moved away. 2% mysteriously ended with no explanation. 4% ended after a falling out and the remaining 10% ended due to lack of communication, etc. The "etc." ranging from one friend who turned out to be a needy stalker (Imagine 7-8 phone calls a day + if i didn't answer the door, he would go from window to window, trying to see if I was home!) to one couple who I finally cut loose because I gave up on being the one who did all the work. i.e.- birthday remembering, phone calling, card sending, hosting, etc. After taking a good hard look at the list I realized that I still miss the friendships of exactly 3 individuals and 3 couples.
As you get older, it becomes harder and harder to make new friends. It's like that time I was complaining to my mom, when I first moved here, about how difficult it is to meet people, especially when you don't get into the bar scene. And my mom, having grown up in the 50's, still has that 50's mentality. Her suggestion: go up to someone interesting, who was also alone, in the library, cafeteria, etc., introduce yourself and take it from there. Yeah. You know what happens when you do that? You get looked at like you just handed them a piece of paper that says "Give me all your money. This is a stick up." People today are just too suspicious, and I can't say I can really blame them, what with all the weirdness going on in the world today. It's unfortunate when something as innocent as looking to meet new people is looked upon as the realm of the spastic or the psychotic. And if you're thinking of going the whole Dear Abby route, by suggesting joining a group/club with people who have the same interests, that doesn't work either. I took tennis lessons for 3 summers in a row, joined a gay men's discussion group, volunteered and even resorted to personal ads (I'm currently working on a book about all my horrendous "dates."). I'm at a loss for ideas. I talk to a few people online who I enjoy talking to, but it'd be nice to have someone around to do stuff with from time to time. Even if it's just to play Boggle and order in Chinese food.
It took some investigating ('cause I'm not down with the new slow jams), but apparently the new song I heard was by Usher and called Burn. Initially, it was kinda sexy (his voice), and reminded me a little of 
When did cookies get to be so complicated, not to mention expensive? Sure, it's nice to have choices, but sometimes you just want a plain oatmeal cookie, ya know? But can I find a quality, plain ol' oatmeal cookie? No, but I can find Raisin Raisin Oatmeal, Chocolate Chunk Pecan, Peanut Peanutbutter, Belgian Chocolate Chunk and Chocolate Chip Macadamia. And why are Pinwheels $4? Are they that complicated to make? I can get the same flavor effect with a $1.09 box of Little Debbie Marshmallow Cream Pies. Weird.
Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen. © 2004
Calendar Girls. © 2003
Adam & Evil. © 2004
Chopping Mall. © 1986
Lord of The Rings: Return of The King. © 2003
Stars In Your Kitchen edited by Marta Brookfield Michel. © 1953
The Highly Unlikely Celebrity Cookbook by Frank Jacobs. © 1964
Ms. Fossil called on Wednesday to ask me again when I thought the tree trimming guy would be coming. I told her again that it's still 3 weeks, just like I told her 2 weeks ago. She then goes off on a tangent about how her yard man can't park in her driveway because his truck with the attached trailer full of yard implements is too long and how he has to carry everything from two houses down the street. ? I have no idea what this has to do with me, but then I've never been much of a visionary. She goes on to tell me how she has asthma, and that it's probably due to the hazy weather, undoubtedly caused by the forest fires raging in California. I manage to balance my checkbook, rewind a video that I rented and change clothes, all while she's telling me all this. Note to self: Must resist urge to kill.
I went to get a haircut, because it was "Wacky Wednesday" at the place I get my hair cut. By the way, it's $2 off on Wacky Wednesday, so then I can afford to give whoever cuts my hair, a tip. Otherwise, it's nearly $15! Insane. This time around I get a Korean woman, whom I've noticed isn't much for small talk, since I had to wait until she was finished cutting some guy's hair who was going on and on about how he was "never much one for fair food" but "enjoyed the Texas Star" (fyi the Texas Star is a HUGE ferris wheel, which is the centerpiece of the Texas State Fairair...next to Big Tex). She speaks really bad English, and it's my guess (which is confirmed later) that her grasp of understanding the English language is probably not up to par, either. Now for the pros and cons. Pro: She gave me a really good haircut. Con: She had some major B.O. Pro: I caught a few Z's while she was trimming my hair (I couldn't help it. Something about the combination of the vibration of the clippers and the sound of the thinning shears, makes me drift right off). Con: there was still some old snips of gray hair from someone's previous haircut, on the plastic bib thing tied around my neck. I dunno what it is about gray hair that creeps me out, but it does. I think it goes all the way back to when I moved into my first apartment and was cleaning out the cabinet underneath the sink, I found clumps of gray hair along the edge of where the carpet met the cabinet. Gross. Well, at least she was better than the last person who cut my hair. Some fat black chick who kept using her stomach to turn the chair around and apparently didn't realize (or care) that cutting hair where it falls onto your face the whole time, is not a good technique.
The grocery store I got to has some cutie guy checkers who also bag groceries. One's name is "Luke" (very soap opera) and is a "babe" (both figuratively and literally) and then there's "Tommy" who I always manage to catch taking a break by the Coke machines outside. I think they're cute, but they have the kind of hair that my friend Derik hates. Lol! Kinda like my dad and "those big-ass pants" that never seem to go outta style. I guess every generation has their teen peeves. Annnnnyway... Tommy's also cute, but not so much babe-worthy, but cute just the same (I think it's the tan and the big nose, but hey, that't me). Of course, he's also 11 years old (okay, maybe I'm exaggerating a little, but he might as well be). So, Tommy was scanning my groceries and notices I bought a container of popcorn chicken from the deli, and gets all excited, telling me how good they are. I say "Yeah, they really are" and he goes on to say how those and some Mountain Dew make the perfect lunch and that he's going to go get some in a few minutes. I share my top-secret knowledge that Mountain Dew and Hawaiian Punch make a great flavor combo, he says how he's never tried that but will have to now and then I leave. Bonding accomplished.
Went to the video store and returned Adam & Evil and checked out Chopping Mall, Calendar Girls, and Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen. Those reviews coming up later, once I've watched them all. And while we're on the subject of entertainment, I also bought 3 CDs and 3 DVDs. More about those later. So, I go to rent my movies and while the guy is checking out my movies, some customer comes in and he says "Hi," she looks his way, says nothing and keeps on truckin'. He's like "Um, okaaaay. Whatever" and looks at me. Knowing what it's like to work with the public, I've totally been there before. I say "It's amazing how many mute people there are in the world, huh?" and he laughs and says no kidding. Rapport established. So the guy is looking at the cover of Chopping Mall and says something about it looking interesting. I tell him that "yeah, it's a fun movie" and that it's coming to DVD soon, but I couldn't wait to watch it. He's looking at the back of the box and then it dawns on him what it's about and he goes bananas. He's all "Oh my god, I've been wanting to see this movie for so long! This is the one where the robot security guards go crazy and kill everybody in the mall." I'm like "Yeaaah. Good times." He's all "Chopping Mall! Oh my god, I didn't know that was the name, I can't believe we have that. I haven't seen that since like 1989." I say "Yep. It's an old one." (hey! I graduated in 1989!) and then start heading for the door, all the while he's still freaking out about it. Bonding session 2 accomplished.
For some unknown (and annoying) reason, it seems like our neighborhood has an unusual amount of power surges. This in turn, causes the breaker to my A/C to flip off sometimes, calling for me to go outside, to the side of the house, and flip it back on (see? I told you it was annoying). Well, last night it happened again, 'cause I woke up feeling muggy and gross. So, around midnight, I go open the front door, flashlight in hand, to go outside and flip the switch. At the same time, some random guy happens to be walking by across the street, in front of my house. Well, my front door has an awful squeaky creak to it, which I, personally like for two reasons: A) It sounds great at Halloween and B) I like to think that I have a built-in early warning system, should a prowler break in to kill me in my sleep (yes, I'm a little paranoid). So anyway, I swing the front door open and some random guy walking on the sidewalk across the street jumps outta his hide, spins towards me and looks over, startled. I act like I don't notice, but on the inside, I am cracking up. I'm usually the one who's leery of people walking along the street at night and here I am making him skittish. Lol! Just thought I would share that with you, because I thought it was funny.
Why is it every time I like something, they quit making it? Example: Pillsbury garlic breadsticks. They go great with spaghetti and are so doggone good! And now they're being "discontinued." But I love, thee, oh garlicky one! Just another food product that will soon be extinct. Sigh.
And even though some of my favorites have survived the 70's and/or 80's, some of them just don't have the same flavor that I remember. For instance, my all-time favorite cereal was always Frankenberry (I still like it, but now I think it's more for the nostalgia, than the flavor), but now it seems to lack that certain oaty, strawberry flavor that I remember loving. Now it has that annoying flavor, like those french fries from Burger King that have that stay-crisp coating. You know what I mean? It's like the cereal now has a chemical shellac taste to it. Same thing goes for Trix, which I still like occasionally, but which I used to LOVE. "Back in the day" the cereal makers kept it simple, and the cereal pieces were shaped like little spheres (think Kix cereal in rainbow colors) and had a great corn and fruit taste. Today, they pieces are shaped like various fruits, and again have that weirdo shellac on them AND are so overly fruit-flavored that I find myself wanting more milk than cereal. Plus, there's a weirdo aftertaste that wreaks of "stay-crunchy" shellac. Bleah.
I have to admit, I get nostalgic for some of the old packaging as well. I recently watched You can't Buy Me Love and sighed during a party scene when I saw the old Doritos bag. You know, the one with the little window in the front and the giant wedge of cheese on it? If only the manufacturers would periodically bring back a "Nostalgia" line of their products, with the original recipes and packaging, I bet you anything they'd sell like crazy. I know I'd be hoarding some serious Crazy Cow, Chef Boyardee Roller Coasters and Taco-Flavored Doritos!
Though I usually consider the world of professional wrestling (& NASCAR) to be the realm of the mullet crowd, I must come clean. I fall in lust with the occasional wrestler from time to time. The first wrestler I remember lusting after, was way back in the late 80's: 
Fast forward to 1999 or so, and my ring had a new king: Big Poppa Pump (formerly Scott Steiner). I kinda knew who he was, before his new persona, but really took notice once he cut that damn brown mullet of his, dyed his hair blonde, grew a goatee and got into some serious pharmaceuticals. He had a great bod before, it just got bigger and more streamlined. Thanks Synthol! Regardless of the how and why, Big Poppa Pump emerged from his cocoon lookin' mighty pinchable. The only thing that kinda creeped me out about him, besides his relentless pursuit of the almighty panty hamster, was his unusually small forearms. They just don't match his HUGE biceps. I dunno if it's a genetic thing or a side effect of the "vitamins" but it was noticeable.
Over the weekend, there was a piece on the news about how The University of Iowa was conducting research to better understand the cause of children's bicycle injuries. Due to advances in virtual reality the researchers were able to immerse children, ages 10-12, as well as adults, in a safe virtual environment, in order to observe bicycle safety behavior. Their conclusion. The reason children have bicycle accidents with vehicles: They didn't successfully judge traffic gaps. Wow. That's money and time well spent. Who needs a cure for Cancer, when we can pool our resources to find out that the reason kids become flattened fauna is because they didn't wait long enough to cross the street. Maybe these children should stick to less tasking past times like utilizing their motor skills with a 
I'm more than a little tired of how today's kids have to be coddled and protected from everything from swallowing cereal prizes to inadvertently gutting themselves with a Snoopy Sno-Cone Machine. I find it incredulous that generations of children before them managed to survive Stretch Armstrong, E-Z Bake Ovens and playground equipment constructed of actual metal, all without losing an eye or somehow mangling themselves. Why, we even managed to not suffocate ourselves on the Twister mat or impale ourselves on Lincoln Logs. Wowee! We musta been some kinda mavericks! And on the rare occasion we did get hurt, our parent's first instinct wasn't "Someone must pay!." We both just marked it up to being a dumbass and knew not to do it again. Lesson learned. 
But then today's parents have so much more to contend with, what with their ever-important cellphone calls and all, to do pesky stuff like pay attention to their children. Why take responsibility for not exercising common sense when you can just blame someone else and maybe get a settlement out of it in the process? What? You say your child got injured while running in the store like a maniac? It's not your fault. There were clearly no warning signs posted. What's that you say? While you were getting yourself a latte at 
For example, check out this hunky "air duct maintenance technician." Check out those biceps and that face. He's a fox! My air duct guy never looks like this. Not to mention the cable guy, exterminator, mailman, plumber, electrician, etc.? You know, that whole fantasy, where the TV repairman drops by, is super hot and then steamy encounters take place. Whatever. Now, I'm not lookin' for a little afternoon delight, but the occasional piece of eyecandy would be a nice change of pace. Instead, I get the deodorantly-challenged. The terminally married. The English is my second language (and I'm not that swift at the first one) guy (AKA Queso-&-so) and/or the ever-popular buttcrack guy. Swoon! ...Not.
Here's another ad for a local tune-up place. Who's mechanic looks like THAT? Bet he smells good too. All the guys at the garage I go to are Pakistani or look like Cooter from The Dukes of Hazzard.
As I thumbed through the various coupons, I came across one for laser hair removal. There's a woman in a bikini quoted as saying "I'd love to get rid of my excess body hair and really learn to like myself." Who knew self-worth was just an electrolysis appointment away? Yeah right, good luck Sasquatch. And while I'm thinking about it, there's also an ad for some Herpes medication that claims to regulate your Herpes break outs so you can "take back control of your life." Um, you have Herpes. I'd say control isn't one of your strong points. And while we're on the subject, why is it that all the people we see in Herpes ads always lead such vibrant and active lifestyles? So then, can we deduce that people with cold sores have bouts with 'keeping up with the Joneses?' I don't know about you, but I sometimes find myself secretly yearning for Herpes, just so I can go to the beach and/or go bicycling through a lush forest glen, and leave this tedious existence behind once and for all. I know it sounds selfish, but I'd really love to catch up on my leisure reading. Herpes: They're not just for 'hos anymore! Get Herpes and start living life in the fast lane! To see just how specialized our society has become, check out the online 
The first time I saw it, was the summer of 1985, while on vacation with my parents. We saw it at a drive-in theater in Wisconsin. I remember thinking it was the best thing ever. I remember reading the paperback and anything else 'Goonies' I could get my hands on. I also remember staying up late to watch 
Friday Night Videos (network television's answer to MTV), to see the "debut" of the Cyndi Lauper music video! 
The theater I went to see the movie at, is a Landmark theater, in more ways than one. It's been around for 57 years and is one of the sole survivors of the 1940s movie palaces. 
I was surprised how many teens there were. I was expecting a more mature crowd, like when I went to go see Fast Times At Ridgemont High. Before the show begins, a theater employee comes out and there's a contest to win the DVD version of whatever movie is that night's main attraction. However, this time, in addition to the DVD giveaway, there was also a Truffle Shuffle contest! LMAO! He asked for volunteers and about 7 vibrant, fresh-faced teens went up (2 girls, the rest guys). The guy prefaced the contest by first making sure everyone knew what the Truffle Shuffle was. One didn't. My first reaction is "beat it, dillhole," but I kept that to myself. So the guy asks for one of them to demonstrate it to him. This one guy volunteers and kicks ass! Then the contest starts and the nonexistent (ech...whatever) teen bellies are a shakin'! When they are done, the guy holds his hand over each person's head and the one who receives the most applause wins. The one I wanted to win, and clapped for, won (the guy who demonstrated the Truffle Shuffle for the benefit of IdiotBoy). He was the only one who had remotely any tummy and his Truffle Shuffle rendition rocked da hizouse! The prize: a pint of Rocky Road ice cream (with spoon)!! The runner-up (IdiotBoy, much to my chagrin) also got a pint. I didn't win the DVD, but some jailbait in a tubetop won it, and, get this, she doesn't even own a fuckin' DVD player. Whatever.
The movie starts and everyone claps once the skull and crossbones appear on the screen and we're off! Now, I must confide something. I LOVED the entire cast (yes, even Corey Feldman, whom I normally despise), but my favorite Goonie was Martha Plimpton's character ('Stef') and my first cinematic crush: Josh Brolin ('Brand'). God, I remember thinking he was the hottest thing since 
While on the subject of hotties, at the time I thought Sean Astin ('Mikey') was pretty insignificant. Wow! Who knew he would turn out to be such a babe? I could give two elf farts for those Lord of The Rings movies, but I think he's just too cute. Esp. when he has a beard. Rowr!
Are you hep to the jive, 
Swingin' Jazz For Hipsters: Volume 1. © 1997
Music For The Jet Set. © 1996
The Naughty Ones: I Dig Your Voodoo! © 1995
