10 Odd Facts About Me

10: I wear shorts, year round. If its above freezing; I'm usually wearing a pair of shorts.

9: I rarely wear a tie; but at one point in my life had a collection of over 100 fine silk ties in my closet.

8: If I'm not wearing shorts; I'm in blue jeans. I am very anal about my jeans. I only wear Levis 501's. No Wrangler, Bugle Boy or whatever. Only Levis. Only 501's.

7: I'm a gambler who will bet on the outcome of most anything; but I do not play slot machines or the lottery.

6: I'm a very spontaneous person. I've been known to wake up and drive halfway across the country to see something or someone, on a whim.

5: I was personally invited to both of the Bush/Cheney Inaugural Balls. Why is this strange? I am not a registered Republican and I made no donations to either campaign.

4: I have a degree in political science, but hate discussing politics. My views are extreme enough in both directions, depending on the issue, to make members of both parties squirm.

3: I hate funerals, but have my own planned.

2: I am very much into freedom of expression; but run a very disciplined household. My boys have been given the freedom to explore their own ideals and beliefs; but are amongst the most polite, well-behaved young men you'll ever meet.

1: I go commando in public.

Eating Alta Fern

To tell you the truth; after Tam and I were married my mother-in-law, Alta, rarely cooked. But, when we were dating I ate her cooking. Oh, God! *hacking.....choking* I ate her cooking! Maybe it's best to start from the beginning.

I was born a poor black child........... (well, maybe not that far back).

My wife and I were introduced by a preacher (yes, I was raised going to church) *reader faints*, who was a mutual friend of both of our families. He had tried to get me to come and meet her for two years before I finally made the journey.

Tam's parents, Elmer and Alta Fern (stop laughing; that's their real names), were older so naturally our first date began at church one Sunday morning. After the last amen, I jumped astride my motorcycle and followed her family down the back-roads of two (almost ventured into three) counties to their house for lunch. At one point during this odyssey, near the Caney River, I could have sworn that I heard "Dueling Banjos" playing in the nearby woods.

*"I'm gonna' make you squeal like a pig, boy!"*

Tam and I had actually met the week before and had talked a couple of times on the phone before this first "date". She asked me what I liked to eat so that her mom could make me something "special" for Sunday. At that point in my life, I would eat nearly anything except tuna casseroles and fried chicken.
(I know. Southern boy that doesn't eat fried chicken? If you ate as much of it as I did growing up on the farm; you would have been burnt out, too!)

So, for my first meal with her daughter, Alta prepares me some sort of tuna spaghetti casserole. A nasty, odorous, foul-tasting concoction that I ate every bite of with a smile on my face. From that point on, while Tam and I were dating, every meal at their house was either fried chicken or a tuna casserole; always.

For some reason, Elmer trusted me with his daughter (BIG mistake). He even extended her curfew an extra hour when we started dating (BIGGER mistake). This extra hour gave us time, on the return trip from the movies in Tulsa, to find a secluded spot on a dark Washington County road to get to know each other a little better.

This always made eating Alta's cooking bearable. She would sit across the table from me and stare me down to make sure that I ate every bite; hoping to catch a cough, a wince or other disapproving gesture. I ate whatever was put on my plate quickly, smiling the whole time; thinking of the moves I would be putting on Tam later that evening.

Once we were married, Alta quit cooking for me. When we did share a meal it was usually at a restaurant or, on occasion, I would burn some old dead cow on the grill in her back yard. But I will never forget the hell that she put me through with her cooking, while dating Tam.

I suppose, in conclusion, there are only two reason that I ever ate my mother-in-law's cooking: lust and love. In the beginning; it was the lust that every young man feels when they start dating someone new. In the end; it was the love for the woman who became my wife.

Alta has passed on now; which for me is a relief. If I had ever decided to divorce her daughter; she may have tried to start cooking for me again!

Just Who Do You Think I Am?

Some people think they know you. You just met them five minutes ago; yet they can tell everything about you. Hell, they know you better than you know yourself.

For example: I'm in the old waterin' hole one night when a group of people come through the door. A couple of them are regulars (and dart players) and one is a former beertender there that I had only seen twice before and said about six words to ever. "Get me a Bud." and "Another here." I think, before shift change brought in a different waitress. When she comes in she says: "Oh, there's Gary!" (I couldn't even remember her name) and proceeds to stagger over to where I am seated and give me a hug. Being the polite asshole I am; I said hi to her and then turned my back to her and began talking with someone else. She then plops down beside me and starts in on me about how great a guy I am and that I really should come over to the other side of the bar and play darts with them. Her first mistake is: Neither of the guys she came in with wanted me to come over and play darts because they can't beat me and they know it. Secondly, I am not too keen on being touched by strangers (unless I am paying them to touch me .......... [I like a good massage, once in a while]). I am definitely not a hugger of them. Third. The crap compliments she was spewing my way, made the friend, who was with me, almost fall off his bar stool laughing! Anyone who really knew me, probably, wouldn't be complimenting me (perfectionist/superiority complex) about how nice and great a guy I am. I am a superior asshole (see previous posts if you don't understand).

While I am a nice guy on here; I'm sure that most of you would not like me too well in person. I just have a way of pissing most people off. I know this was her lame attempt at flirting. Which, if she really knew me, wouldn't have been happening either! I've been with the same woman for 22 years and ain't planning on leaving her, just yet. What's that song by Robert Earl Keene? "Rich, Young, Dumb Nymphomaniac" She probably qualifies on the last 3 parts of the title, but not the first. But who am I to say. I DON'T REALLY KNOW HER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Am I a Strange SOB

Many times, when posting my ramblings, the title I begin with needs to be changed by the end of the story. I think we're good today! My regular readers, I'm sure, will concur. This is a little more about me......part three, I believe...... I am an odd character.

I am a loner, for the most part, that is very loyal to his few close friends. I'm a quiet person, who does not say much, unless, in my opinion, it needs to be said. I don't like a lot of company at my house (unless its poker night) or crowds, in general: But, will go to a football game or a bar and scream, dance and act like a complete fool with a mass of perfect strangers.

I hate death and funerals, but have my own (funeral, that is) planned out (I don't plan to die, but all good things must end). The first part is a joint agreement between my brother and I that whoever goes first, the survivor has to throw a huge drunken Irish wake in memory of the deceased. After the wake, I plan to be cremated (much to my wife's dislike!). Then, at the funeral (this is the part she really despises), all attendees will be given a small envelope with a pinch of my ashes to do with as they wish. Everybody gets a piece of me that day!

Touch the Darkness @ DarkCasket.com
No church service (those things only make people feel bad about themselves), but a party. An afternoon/evening/night/next morning in a park or a field with loud music; lots of cold, crisp refreshing Budweiser (and other spirits) and tons of grilled animal flesh! Free beads for all male attendees to use in exchange for whatever they can get from the female revelers! Bagpipes at sunset! Fireworks (or firearms) shot into the sky at midnight! Send me off with a bang!
I'm sure there will be a lot of people that I don't know, and would not have liked, show up for the event............WTF? I'm dead anyway; what do I care?........


Buried at PhotoCasket.com

More to come, .................................................................................................................... later. ....................................................................................................................... NOW GO AWAY!!!!!!!!!!!!! Seriously. Go read someone else's blog now. I'll have a new post later! Okay. Leave a comment on your way out.