It's The Devil You Know, I Suppose...

So Mom, you're lucky to have me as your son, right?

I guess.

Gee, thanks Mom. I mean, who would you rather be: My Mom, or the Mother of Lindsay Lohan?

If you put it that way - your mom, of course.

Well, I feel better.

Besides... who the heck is Lindsay Lohan? Is she famous?

Oh, never mind...

Mystic Cherry (senryu)...

Washington Cherries,
cold juices flow from each bite --
one bowl, saved my life...

Exploring my "Field of Dreams"...

***NOTE: Thanks to Mel for the title idea. Rock on, Karrot!***

Her skin smelled like cinnamon, soft like fresh sheared wool.

With eyes closed, I felt the heat of her body pressed against me, a bonfire consuming me with its flames.

My face was buried deep in her hair. It tickled my cheeks a little -- I think I even cracked a smile.

I found my way out of that eden of brown locks and discovered her lips -- oh, they tasted so sweet, like cold, raspberry tea on a hot afternoon.

And I just kept drinking, and drinking, knowing I had to come up for air sometime.

I broke away slowly, opening my eyes.

And there she was...

...Sally Field.

And yes, just to clear up any confusion, it wasn't her when she was
"Gidget":

But rather her as she is now:

And most definitely wasn't when she was
"The Flying Nun":

Where are your heads at, people?

So there I was, looking right into her darling brown eyes, and before I could say anything, she took her hand and ran her fingers through my hair.

She didn't say a word.

Neither did I.

I was too stunned to realize this was all a dream, but damn if it didn't feel so good.

Our lips met again, and again, over and over, then...

Well, you get the picture. I think we might have even cuddled afterwards.

When I woke up, the funniest thing happened. I had left the TV on, and you know what the first thing I saw was?

A commercial for Boniva. And who's the Spokeswoman for it?

That's right, it was none other than:

She must have entered my subconscious via the airwaves. God knows how many of those commercials I might have been listening to throughout the night!

And yet, do I regret this happened?

I guess I might have preferred:

But hey, I could've done a lot worse than such a sweet gal like Sally... ;)

Feeling like an Ass at the Supermarket checkout line...

I was in a rush.

I needed to be back in the office, and the mother of all slow-ass old women was in front of me, quietly taking out her double-quadruple coupons from a microscopic change purse and handing it every so slowly to the cashier, Mary.

Glaciers melt faster than this.

"Let's go, lady, let's go!", I thought.

Mary knows the old lady. They start up a quick banter.

"How you been, Doris?", asks Mary. Doris is trying to zip up her change purse.

"Well, not too good. Allen found out he has ALS. You know, Lou Gehrig's Disease?"

Mary looks up. "My God, I'm so sorry."

Doris shrugs it off like it's nothing, but it's not very convincing. "The doctors say that he's gotta eat, but he's not eating much. And he's so tired all the time. They're making him drink Ensure. You know Ensure? That stuff tastes AWFUL!"

Mary hands Doris the receipt. "You give my best to Allen, all right?"

"Will do." Doris grabs her groceries and walks out.

Mary turns to me. "How are you today, sir?"

"Good," I tell her. But what I really want to say is:

Yeah, I'm doing a helluva lot better than Doris. And here I am, sweating her over my purchase of wheat bread and bananas. I'm such a fucking asshole. I just have to get back to work. Doris needs to figure out how she's gonna take care of her husband, and how she's gonna get along without him.

It's moments like this that remind me of how fortunate I really am, and in so doing reminds me of how precious life really is.

I should always remember that.

Country Classic '07: Not A Bad Way To Spend Wednesday Night...

Here's what I did last night. Click on the boxes below to magnify the pics:



How about some video? Here's match point with Blake:



Here's Blake hitting around with some kids after the match:



And lastly, this is Blake taking on a whole bunch of kids, and then having a photo op:



Thanks for stopping by ya'll!... ;)

Baked, Not Fried...

DUDE!
You ever have
toast so crunchy you
thought it was
crunching you?
I was Chewing toast
and it sounded like
tiny rocks being
ground to dust in my
mouth - It was SOOO
LOUD I could barely
hear my thoughts
screaming at me,
for something,
uh,
something,
about,
uh...

...Where was I going
with this?

o.g. 2/8/07

Then Who Sang That?...

Come on baby Light My Fire...

Yeah, that's a good song Dad.

Ah, that Stevie Wonder.

What did you say?

Stevie Wonder. Didn't he write that?

Stevie Wonder didn't write Light My Fire. That's Jim Morrison and The Doors.

Oh, well excuuuuuuuuse me! But Stevie did do You Are The Apple of My Eye, right?

No Dad, You Are The Sunshine of My Life.

Really? Thanks son!

Ha ha, soooooo funny...

**According to Wikipedia, Stevie did cover Light My Fire, so my dad was only half right. But I'm still fully embarrassed... ;)

o.g. 2/12/07

Balloonorama...

Ever see the sky
painted with a
million red and yellow
balloons, so dense that
it blocked the sun and cast
an orange haze to the
Earth below?

No?
Me neither, but
I wish I did...

Sky Writ... (haiku)

Paper sky, pen writes
a sonnet in the clouds - read
it quick, gone real soon...

I Can't Thank You Enough - No, Seriously!...

Going through my mail awhile back, I received a very late (by 3 weeks) Thank You card from an uncle that really loved the blender we got him for Christmas.

Oh, U.S. Mail, I'm just glad you got the letter to me at all!

And then I thought - wouldn't it be great if Hallmark made a "Thank You for the Thank You card"? You know, so you can let the other person know that you received their Thank You and how happy you are to know that they like your gift, and to thank them for thanking you in the first place?

Yeah, sounds stupid.

But so did the idea of sharing music on the Internet.

Hey Hallmark - get crack'n!

Have a great weekend and I'll see ya'll next week!... ;)

Sunrise Tip-Toeing...

You had left early -
I imagine you groping
in the dark for your
clothes and keys,
tip-toeing out so as not
to disturb me --
but I wish you had,
'cause I would have said
your moves aren't bad,
though another chance
to etch you in my skin
would be grand...

... I'll miss you, er,
what's your name again?