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Old Habits.
It’s been said that in her later years, Erma Bombeck obtained a state of the art word processor to write her newspaper column, “At Wit’s End” and her last few books. After several attempts at being witty while following the cursor on the screen, she subsequently ignored said electronic wizardry and opted to use her trusty typewriter instead.
I totally understand where she’s coming from.
I have a Mac PowerBook G4 that’s approaching three years old. It’s still quite functional, it’s beautiful to look at and it purrs along like a content kitten. However, during our time together updates from Apple and the more and more software I’ve added have taken it’s toll on it a little bit and have subsequently slowed it down. It still trudges along doing it’s thing but it doesn’t have the zip or pizazz it had when it was a young chip.
When I started school last year we bought an HP laptop that had Windows on it but was converted to Linux (after a number of false starts) a couple of months ago. The computer is a delight to use and I’ve tried on numerous occasions to make it my main computer but I just can’t into it. Like a favorite pair of underwear or the t-shirt that makes me feel sexiest, I just like the feeling of using my PowerBook. So it takes a little longer to download porn or watch the BearForce1 video on everyone’s blog. While the cool kids at the internet café are doing their thing on their zippy MacBook Pros, there I am sitting in the corner with the MacBook’s big brother.
I guess as I get older I’m less concerned with keeping up with the Joneses and have ended up set in my ways.
Friendship.
My friend Eric and I got together for supper and just to hang out this evening. We’ve known each other for several years, and though we get together rather infrequently, we always have a good time when we finally get around to seeing each other. Tonight was no exception to the trend.
During supper we got talking about classic television shows, reminiscing about the oldies such as “One Day At A Time”, “The Electric Company” and “Benson”. Imagine my surprise when I found out that the alarm clock on his cell phone plays this tune:
I don’t know what was more frightening, the fact that he has this theme song on his cell phone or the fact that I was able to tell which season the track was from.
Mouthy.
I took a moment today to write a letter to the mayor. The city has spent $40,000 to put up 52 new “wayfinding” signs for tourists. The signs guide visitors to attractions such as the zoo, the train station and the local brewery. While I find these signs to be a good thing for the area, I’m rather dismayed at how they’re being installed. I don’t like the fact that in some spots they’re installing them in the middle of the sidewalk. Not only does this create a hazard for pedestrians, but it also makes it so wheelchairs can’t pass the sign without dropping off the curb, wheeling down the street (and risk getting hit) and then struggling to get back up on the curb again. To make matters worse, the breakaway mounts on the sign posts are installed too high, which could be an increased hazard to any vehicle that happens to run into them.
Now I didn’t bring up the fact that the signs come nowhere near the national established standards that are enforced by the state, nor did I mention the fact that 52 signs for $40,000 seems a bit steep. As a student of civil engineering I chalk that up to a learning experience and I figure I’ll deal with similar scenarios once I’m working for a highway department, but to me it just doesn’t make sense to block a sidewalk for these signs. They should have been installed on a light post.
If that’s not enough to complain about, I’ve also written on the local paper message board my dismay that the county has spent $5.4 million dollars since 2004 renovating ONE court room at the local courthouse. That’s right, $5.4 million dollars on renovating one room, including the custom carpets handpicked by the judge.
And we wonder why at 9.25% we have the highest sales tax rate in the state. They say it’s to pay for welfare (don’t get me started) but we now know it’s just for pretty rugs.
And last, but not least, I’ve had it up to here (imagine waving hand) with the Bible beaters and their obsession with homosexuality. Why are they so obsessed with gay men and lesbians? Trust me, we are not going to move in on some place like Big Oak, Arkansas and take over the town. We don’t know where you are, we don’t care who you are and we quite honestly we don’t mind if you get off on sleeping with your cousin/brother/sister/mother/father. Frankly, it’s none of our business and we wish that you bid us the same honor.
I’m just saying.
Round Random Ramblings.
The highlight of the week for many suburban based men is when the lawn is over 1/8 of an inch too long so that they get to ride their lawn mower. I am not to be counted among these men, for I mow the lawn on two conditions: 1. Someone is coming over for a party or 2. we can make a mint baling it and selling it to a local farm.
I’m not a big fan of mowing the lawn. Back at the old house it took three to four hours of riding the lawn mower, pushing the push mower and whacking weeds to get the lawn in decent shape. At this house I have it easy, I can get it all done is just over an hour if I keep the lawn mower set to “burn rubber” and “burn the lawn”.
As I’m riding the lawn mower round and round and round in circles, several random thoughts cross my mind. Since I had the joyous task of greenery grooming this evening, I thought I’d make a little laundry list of what I was thinking and share it on the blog. This might give the reader an insight to the chaotic thoughts that zing back and forth in my head.
1. Whatever happened to Jayne Kennedy? Last I knew she played a bad guy on an episode of Wonder Woman back in 1977. Didn’t she used to be a sports broadcaster? Did she fall overboard when she was on The Love Boat? Where is she?
2. Is it wrong of me to think that Lauren Tewes was cute? Is she still cute?
3. (hum along) “We did the bump bump bump, yes we did, yes we did, yes we diiiiiiiiid, yeah, everybody’s got the boogie fever.”
4. Why does Jimbo shave off his fierce beard from time to time? Why did I screw up my mustache? Will it grow back? Why do obsess about this?
5. Where is it written that I have people have to mow their lawn? Wouldn’t it be more economically friendly to get a goat?
6. Have any of these people that drive Hummers ever chased a bull that’s broken loose at 11:00 p.m. at night? Can they tell the difference between a bull and a cow?
7. Is it unusual that I grew up playing in a lawn that was surrounded on three sides by an electric fence?
8. What does Tom think when he’s looking out the patio door and his tail twitches?
9. Do I reveal too much in the blog? Too little?
10. Why wasn’t Mary Wickes ever invited to be on Bewitched? She would have been fabulous.
11. (hum along) “Let the time flow, let the love grow, let the rain shower, let the rose flower, love it seeks, love it finds, love it conquers, love it binds…”. Robert Hays was friggin’ hot back in his day.
12. Was I just singing out loud? Can the neighbors hear me? Did I just run over a rock?
Such fun times on the lawn mower. After all these thoughts flew around a bit I decided to just yell “giddy-up” and enjoy the ride.
No Salt Please.
Mother Nature brought us perfect beach weather today, so Earl and I headed to our favorite park in the New York State park system, and that’s Southwick Beach State Park. Relatively close to my hometown, we locals tend to just call it “Southwicks”. Here’s a brief history of the park courtesy of Wikipedia:
Southwick Beach State Park was named after the Southwick family, who owned the property from 1870 to 1960; the park is referred to as “Southwick’s Beach State Park” on some maps. Starting in the 1920s, several promoters built entertainment facilities on the property. The most notable was Albert Ellis, who developed it as the “Coney Island” of Northern New York. In time, the beach boasted a roller coaster, bathhouses, a dance pavilion, merry go-round, and midway. Ellis also built a baseball field and organized the Jefferson County Amateur Baseball League, attracting large crowds. These businesses failed during the Great Depression. In 1960, the Leesi Management Corporation of Syracuse purchased the land from the Southwick family and operated the beach for five years. The New York State Office of Parks, Recreation and Historic Preservation purchased the 500 acre property (with a 3,500 foot lakefront) in 1965 for $150,000; Southwick Beach State Park opened in May, 1966.
One of the beautiful things about Southwick’s is that it’s situated on a 17-mile stretch of white sand beaches along the eastern shore of Lake Ontario. This is the only stretch of beach complete with sand dunes that is not along an ocean in the entire northeastern United States. Nowhere else along Lake Ontario will you find a spot so ocean-like, the only thing missing is the salt in the water.
There are a number of reasons that I love this park. First of all, the sunsets are breathtaking. Secondly, I have many happy memories from my childhood at this park including swimming until I was completely waterlogged and listening to “Boogie Fever” on the jukebox at the beach pavilion with my cousins. When I first introduced Earl to my parents, it was at a picnic of just the four of us at Southwick’s. Thirdly, even though I grew up closer to the neighboring Selkirk Shores State Park (which is not part of the stretch of sand dunes), Southwick’s is much more swim-friendly in that there’s no rocks along the lake bed, the seaweed is practically non-existent, there’s lots of sand and it really does feel like you’re at the ocean.
After spending some time at the main picnic area and beach, Earl and I decided to hike along the adjacent Lakeview Wildlife Management Area to the south of the park. The NYS DEC is doing their best to keep this beach as natural as possible by trying to keep people off the sand dunes by providing a couple of walkways to the adjoining marsh area. In addition, it’s in this part of the park that you’re away from the relatively crowded beach and into a more “broad-minded” area. Area boaters often shore up along here for their private picnics, same sex couples can occasionally be seen holding hands and just being themselves and there are often several nudists sunning themselves and swimming in the lake in a carefree manner.
[MEDIA=21]Earl and I took the 1 1/2 or so mile hike and situated ourselves under some trees to just spend some quality time relaxing, enjoying the sun, swimming and playing some grab ass in the lake. It’s a good way to escape for the day. We both highly recommend it.
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Dream With A View.
I had the most bizarre dream last night. For some odd reason I was selected to be the gay male co-host on the next season of “The View”. There I was, sitting around the table with Joy, Barbara and Elisabeth with an “S” sharing my opinion on just about any topic. Barbara Walters looked older (maybe it was a nightmare) and Elisabeth with an “S” was shrieking like a yapping dog. After some political discussion and more barking from Elisabeth with an “S”, Joy brought up the topic of breast enhancements on women and how she believed that some women got them because their boyfriend or husband liked bigger breasts. These women didn’t want bigger breasts but they were basically being forced to get them. There was a picture of a woman with huge breasts up on the big screen. I remember spouting off my opinion and saying that I don’t get it as you don’t see many gay men injecting their junk with silicone to make themselves bigger and more attractive, why should women have to do the same thing with their breasts just to make their man happy. If they _want_ bigger breasts, well more power to them, but they shouldn’t _have_ to get them. I remember Barbara’s head falling down onto the table when I said “junk”. The audience went wild (good thing I didn’t say ‘dick’). Then I woke up because I suddenly had a paw in my eye (someone was telling me it was time for tuna).
This is a bizarre dream on several accounts. First of all, I never notice breasts. No offense to those that have them but they don’t do a thing for me so why look for them. In fact, I think this may have been the first time in 39 years that I’ve ever dreamed of breasts. Secondly, Earl and I haven’t watched The View since the second day after Rosie’s abrupt departure and we really have no interest in watching it again. I have no desire to be on The View. I don’t even want to sit in the audience.
Maybe I just have a big mouth.
Respect.
At work we have a television that silently shows a pictures from CNN. We’re suppose to use this TV to monitor the weather but we got bored watching the clouds roll by so a number of years ago we opted for the 24 hour news channel instead. This past week we’ve been silently following the fate of the miners in Utah but today Bush Lite was up there doing another press conference. Watching this man with the sound turned down is kind of interesting. It lets you look at his body language a little bit.
First of all, everything I say about the leader of the free world smacks completely contrary to what I was taught by my parents and my teachers as a child. It is ingrained deep into my morality that we should always respect the President of the United States and his office. I fully believe that. However, I can not bring myself to respect this current administration. I just can’t do it. I try. I look for good points but I find few. The current administration does not respect me, simply because I’m wired to be attracted to the same sex. (“If God made you that way, then God must have made a mistake.”) Furthermore, they don’t respect my relationship with Earl, even though we are completely in love, completely inseparable, the best of friends, and still crazy about each other after more than a decade of doing this whole “until death do us part” thing. And don’t even get me started on the war, civil liberties, failing infrastructure and the building economical nightmare.
So even though I respect the role of the president, I don’t respect the man or any member of this current administration. Heck, I respected Reagan and the first Bush more than I respect this guy. The man is a dumbass. As I was watching him on the screen, I can’t help but notice the “I can’t believe I’m president!” look on his face. I’d have more respect for the goons that sell “I can’t believe its not butter!”
I have to admit I’m already tiring of the 2008 presidential elections. The mud is slinging, the words are flying, the coverage is endless and it’s already exhausting and we’re still 15 months away from the decision. I’m not sure for whom I would vote, but I’m pretty confident that whoever takes the coveted prize next year will automatically earn my respect until proven otherwise.
