Save Lando

so i’m trying to force myself to bed before midnight, didnt happen, and a commercial comes on the tele. Pepto Bismol. its a pepto commercial with a line of people from an office each with ailments, and i’m paying attention to the one labeled diarrhea girl. was thinking, ‘damn that diarrhea girl is kinda hot’. then at the end of the commercial they all start dancing, hopefully because of the relief they got (it was never super-clear). she’s hot, shes dancing, and evidently she’s diarrhea free. i think she met all my requirements in a woman. so of course, all the scenarios (‘oops my bad, thats my scenario’) in which someone (me) might be able to hit on this woman.

Lando: “so, diarrhea eh? how’s that working for you? did you need any help wi..”

Pepto Woman: *-slap-*

and they all pretty much end that way, pepto girl or not. and in an awesome turn, at the pepto site:

‘pink tastes better than you think’? holy shit, that is the best. slogan. ever. and true to a certain extent. sadly, there was no information on the office girl. i’m afraid our love will have to stay unrequited….

‘Machismo’ got a call from his ex (the mother of his child) last night, and he had to get there right away. why? was her house on fire? was there something wrong with the baby? um, not really, there was a spider in the living room and someone had to kill it. huh? yeah, pretty much what i said too. dont get me wrong, i’m of the idea that each and every spider should be killed. i have a wicked case of arachnophobia, but i’m not such a candyass that i wont kill each and every within arms reach.

and because i wasnt about to loan out my car (and ‘Machismo’ has not one), i drove him to her house. not that i really had plans at midnight sunday night, but it put me out a little. it took near 5 minutes for him to emerge from her house, but when he did, she and the baby came out with him. i had heard stories about the child being big for a 1 year old. i was not prepared for just how big the baby was. dear lord, he could already plan linebacker for the seahawks. and if i might say so, ‘Machismo’s ex wasnt looking too shabby herself for a late sunday night. we’re I of the Dr. Booty persuasion, i may have reserved thoughts about an invasion.

and a few minutes of smalltalk had her inviting him to come back and stay for awhile. which was surprising. a long as i’ve known this woman, she’s been cold to him. i’m talking frigid. but he cant just stay there of course, he has to come back to our place first. for about 20 minutes. then i had to drive him back over, for the very slim chance that he would um… bake cookies. like a good friend, i supplied him with a potholder so he wouldnt burn his hands again and wished him luck. i figured why not, i dont bake anymore.

what i wouldnt give for a batch of cookies right now…

the stars at night, are big and bright!

thats right kids, deep in the heart of texas (i hope you clapped). which is where i spent the greater part of the day saturday. 5:30am wake up call? NO PROBLEM. it was almost like i had a job again really. so will i do it again, because it was so much fun? probably not. in fact, i’ll probably see 5:30am from the other side before i see it waking again.

i got a call from the Ioweigan (their word, not mine) couple who are down visiting. they wanted me to go with them to the Scarborough Faire (a past yearly tradition for the group). dilemma. my uncles birthday party was at 6pm. the likelyhood of me being back in time for the dinner was very slim, but in the end i chanced it. i weighed the consequences of both actions and decided i was trekking to the lone star. Ren Faire, Porn Shops, and Cemeteries? or Dinner with family. tell me you wouldn’t have made the same choice.

ultimately, i never made it back for the dinner, and hope that everyone isnt pissed at me. i know they already harbor some dissapointment of me being a godless heathen, and probably wont speak to me now, because i didnt go. the plan was to make it back, but somewhere around 3pm it was clear that there was just no way in hell (short of me catching a plane) it was possible. i’m sorry family if i let you down. i really am feeling a major amount of guilt for it. i mean, not enough to really regret it, but lots. it’s funny how the family dynamic works sometimes in regards to guilt.

so the trip basically consisted of a 3 pronged mission, all stated above. Ren Faire, self explanatory. Porn Shops? well, seeing as how anything above a rated R movie here in Oklahoma is illegal to sell, you have to go out of state for anything else. Katrina claims that she’ll never pay for porn (which is why she has 10 gigs of it on her ‘puter, trust me, i saw it). i’ll pay for the good stuff, and do, on occasion, purchase things. nothing wrong with it.

the Cemetary thing was a bit different. out of all the days activities, it was clearly the one that actually meant something. the couple i was with wanted to visit the graves of ancestors and take pics of the headstones for the family. which was strange because as they were doing something nice for their family, i feel like i was hanging mine out to dry. so, a couple hours, and a couple cemetaries, we got them all. running around large cemetaries looking for headstones was pretty much akin to a needle in a haystack. luckily, we had block numbers of most, and only had to search @100 at a time.

during the search i started to have some bad feelings. not like last time i was in a cemetary with them (years ago, more for fun), but actual sorrow for the deceased. i apologized profusely for stepping on on that had been buried 6 months ago. but looking around the older of the two, with dates ranging back 200 years, it hit me. alot of the headstones or markers were broken or unreadable. years of weather had wiped the names right off of them. that bothered me more than anything. to think that they’re gone, and likely that their last bit of touch with the world is their name on stone, is gone.

just some feelings about the whole existence thing, and how much a name can really mean (short of a long John Proctor speech). i know that people have children, and that those children are supposed to be that persons legacy, their contribution to the world. but to be buried, and perhaps nameless? faceless? careless? i started to get upset. i was hoping that somewhere, someone knew that persons name, or had a memory of that person. without those, what are there? it also bothered me that in alot of ways, i feel like i’m just like them. nameless, faceless, and careless. that 50 or 100 years from now, will there be something to show for me? will people have moved on and forgotten me?

i never claimed to want a whole lot, but i would like to be remembered….

years ago, when a relationship i was in was finishing up, ‘the Hobbit’ convinced me to throw myself to the wolves on an online dating site. i did, and a few more sites, and before too long, i had maximum exposure. boy did i. so after the first week of being shelled by beautiful russian ladies obviously looking for a meal ticket out of siberia, i just quit looking there (unless they sent naked pics. which incidently, did happen more than once. then i would look, and then go away). on occasion i get email from one of those places. usually just spam, or very rarely, an actual woman interested in me.

that always lasts about 1 hour, or 10 exchanged messages. its me. for some reason, i’m just never interested, or am until the woman says something that just completely turns me off. recently had one of those happen (hence an entry about it). an interesting, cute woman talking to me, and holding my attention. that is, until the normally light question and answer session took a turn for the worse with a question from her.

“What kind of car do you drive?”

and i just stared at the screen. its like when you have a song in your head all day long and cant think of the name, and then all at once, it hits you like a sack of doorknobs. that happened. all of a sudden, neon signs popped up all around me and a foghorn went off. Archimedes rediscovered water displacement once again. but instead of jumping out of a bathtub or anything, i just shook my head. we have another one here. so instead of shouting ‘Eureeka’, i could only shout (close to literally) ‘Gold Digging Whore’. she claimed to like cars alot, and agreed with me when i mentioned they get you from ‘point a’ to ‘point b’.

when i’m getting to know someone, i would tend to think that what car they drive would be one of the last things i would think about. like maybe something as important as “Do you have any STD’s?” coming much sooner. but i suppose with some women, the car question must be divulged long before the topic of STD’s can be discussed. simple facts of life, without that adorable Tootie. maybe i’m wrong. i’d certainly like to be. i dont, at all, like going through my life believing the majority of people i meet to be unsavoury. anyone have any thoughts on that?

“Life, so-called, is a short episode between two great mysteries, which yet are one.”

oh shut up, you’re never any help. go back to being dead. (and a cookie to the first who knows) you’d think with a brain as big as his, he’d be able to tell us why its so hard to find someone in this world thats right. but no, he just wants to wax philosophical from beyond the grave, making up stories about dwarves. oh wow, maybe him and L. Ron are hooking up for something special. if we’re lucky, and lets pray we are, we might get a Battlefield Earth 2…

i’m so sick of Peanut Butter it’s not even funny. i normally love it, it’s the best. but being put in the situation where you can eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, or jelly and peanut butter sandwiches, its wearing thinner quicker than that whole ‘Superstar USA’ concept. and speaking of which, it’s about time people realized that there was an overabundance of talent in Celebrity. why cant untalented people be famous? is there some sort of rule somewhere? if there is, i have trouble explaining Dr. Phil & everything i’ve seen on the WB. i miss the golden oldies like the Gong Show every waking minute of the day, and pay tribute now to the best of the best.

Gene Gene the Dancing Machine, you served as a prime example of ‘how to’ to an entire generation of would-be choreographers. NO ONE had better moves than you.

Murray, or Unknown back then. i cant begin to pay tribute to your comic stylings. you were, and continue to be, my hero.

it really is enough to bring tears to your eyes, were you not a hardened, desensitized bastard of a human being like myself. ok, maybe thats not entirely true, some things do get to me. and now after saying that, i will not list a single one. if you want to know, you have to beg.

beg for it!

beg damnit!

squeal like a piggy!

ok, i think i just took us someplace we are definitely better off not visiting. but while we’re there, and the topic of talent and entertainment came up. who in the hell thought that ANYONE would want to see ned beatty take it in the ass? i understand that its part of the story, and that there’s someone for everyone out there, but ned beatty? no. i simply refuse to believe that the movie included that scene for anything more than to make me, personally, ill. and lucky for anyone that reads this, finding a screen capture of ned beatty being ass-raped by hillbillies is nigh impossible (trust me, i looked). see, just another example of not getting the entertainment we deserve. no gong show, but american idol is on 17 times a fucking week? wheres the justice in that?

if i hadnt given up t.v., i’d be pissed.