Archive for the 'personal' Category

Connecticut Dreamin’

     I have always wanted to move to Connecticut. For as long as I can remember, the east coast, eastern states look and feel and thought has always been very appealing to me.

     I have never been there, though. I have never been to somewhere that I would love to move to. I have this idea in my head about how Connecticut looks, how it feels, the weather, the people, the lifestyle, the communities. It seems so attractive to this Mid-Western boy, that I have even went as far as gathered information on housing, and jobs. But that was over ten years ago.

     I have seen movies, television shows, news and I have seen pictures on the internet and throughout my life of Connecticut, that have me wanting to move there. I believe everyone has their place they want to live, where they think they belong, and I know mine is Connecticut.

    Ten years ago, when I had seriously looked into moving there, I had decided that it just would not work out. I was established, here in Michigan, with my family, friends, and job. But maybe one day, when my bank account is stuffed, when my kids are grown, and when my wife and I start to hit the twilight of our lives, I may travel over there to see and feel, and realize that my Connecticut dream would be nothing but that, a dream.

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Tipped Her On The Looks Of Her Ass

     I went to our local restaurant tonight to pick up dinner tonight. It was the type of restaurant where they run your food out to you after calling in your order on the phone. It’s fast, it’s easy, and you get the dinner without having to eat there. You can eat it in your own house.

     That’s what makes Applebee’s so convenient.

     As I sat and waited for my turn in the parking spaces provided for the drivers, I had the luxury of watching the one chick running food and money back and forth, in and out of the restaurant. Then I noticed something. Her ass.

     She had a pair of pants on that accentuated her ass. Tight, low-cut jeans that gripped her buns and kept it looking firm and fit.

     I watched her as she ran to and fro. Then it was my turn. She handed my food to me, I paid her, and I think I tipped her more for her ass than I was going to tip her.

     Which makes me ask this, do these women wear these types of clothes to haul in more in tips?

     I live in Michigan. It just snowed seven inches last night and today. It’s cold out. So us Michiganders don’t have the luxury of year-round, scantily clothed people. She was not wearing shorts, or a bikini, or a pair of spandex. These were just jeans.

     Do people tip these waiters and waitresses for how they look? What if she was ugly? What if she was a lardass? What if she had a horrible body? What if she had a nasty attitude?

     What if she was wearing a see-through shirt, where her nipples were busting through just enough to make one question if they saw what they think they saw? What if she had pants on to show cameltoe? What if she was flirty?

     Would I have tipped her any different for any of the above reasons? Maybe. Maybe not. How about you? What do you think?

Grandpa

     I think I may have walked into his room too fast. Too fast to prepare myself for what I had gone there for. It’s as if I purposely threw myself into his room as if I was peeling a band-aid off real fast.

     When I walked into my Grandpa’s room, I saw him laying in his bed. Sleeping. His mouth open, breathing in air, and exhaling. In a rhythmnic way. He had an eye half open, the other was closed. It was as if he was watching the room, but yet he appeared to be asleep, like I remember him sleeping on his favorite chair in the livingroom of his house when I was a kid.

     My grandpa was a big, strong man. Wide shoulders, thick arms, solid body and head full of hair. Not in recent years. Especially not today. Grandpa is all bones now. I had just seen him a couple days earlier. He was thin, of course, but certainly not like this. I don’t know how, but it’s as if he lost even more weight.

     He lay on his bed, in a sack of skin and bones. His ribs clearly outlined in his button-down flannel shirt. His pelvis was visible, as he was holding the bottom of his shirt in his soft fists. His hands were bruised from ivies and shots he received from the past few weeks. Those bruises never healed. His hands, which were big and thick and strong, have given in to age, and deterioration of health, were not my Grandpa’s hands anymore. He is not himself anymore. His age and his dying body now has the best of him.

     My Grandpa lived a healthy, long life. My Grandma passed away just under three years ago. My Grandpa is the last of his generation in my family. He outlived his brothers and sister. He was one of the oldest in his family, and he lived the longest. I think my Grandma has alot to do with it. She kept him in line. She kept him eating healthy. She kept his heart and his affection. She was his beloved wife. She took care of him.

     As I write this, I am saddened that he passed away a few hours ago. I started to write this last night, but could not finish. I loved my Grandpa and my Grandma very much. I wish I had spent more time with them than I did. But I spent alot of time with them nontheless. I have loads of fond memories of times with them. Now they are gone. It’s strange that I lived as long as I have with Grandparents. Most of my friends lost their’s long ago.

     Now they are in a better place. Reunited with loved ones. I know they are having fun. I know they are giving each other those kisses that made me feel funny to see. And I know the family will be ok. Because they will watch over us all, and all will be fine.

Baby-Making With An IUI

     My wife and I are on a mission to make a baby. I have written, in this blog, all about our experiences during our journey to make a baby. We have had close calls, we had our hopes fade, and we have had disappointments. But then we would try again the following month, repeating this cycle.

     I am going to sum up the journey so far, and to get myself acquainted with what I have written, and not written, to this point.

     Fifteen months ago, I had a vasectomy reversal. It was a good decision because it gave my wife and I the chance to make a baby. We had decided to try right before we got married a year earlier. We were excited and willing to “do the do” on time, every month, like clockwork.

     So I got reversed, and a month later the trying began. Every month, according to my wife’s clock and her calendar and her “piss sticks” and most of all, her say-so, we tried.  It was fun for the first couple months. Then frustration set in. Then it became work. Never had I thought that having sex would be work and I would feel pressured.

     Along the way, I had taken in 3 sperm samples to see what my army of baby-makers were up to. I found out they were there. Plenty of them. Some 20 million of them. But they were slow, almost inactive, but they were there. And that’s what mattered because we were able to keep trying.

     Several months went by and my wife and I got to the point where we weren’t watching the calendar anymore. We were doing the deed when we wanted. We tried to take the pressure off. This didn’t work either.

     We talked to a urologist and got advise on what to try to do to help. This is where he hit us with trying IUI, intrauterine insemination. This is a procedure where, after I produce sperm sample, they take it out, and put it in my wife’s uterus.

     My wife was instructed to pay attention to her ovulation times of the month. She bought a First Response pregnancy kit, where she has to urinate on one and it tells her of her hormonal levels, also known as her LH surge. When it peaks, we are to come into the clinic the following day and they will perform the IUI.

     When her levels are high, she has an egg in her uterus. When the IUI is performed, sperm is shot into the uterus. This procedure, in real easy terms, is putting the boy in the same room as the girl without having him have to walk through the front door, walk down a hallway and enter her room. This procedure skips the journey and puts the boy in the same room immediately.

     This procedure was performed a week and a half ago. We are waiting to see if this works. I hope it does. My beautiful wife hopes it does, too. I know my sperm are slow and lazy. I refer to them as a bunch of fat, lazy kids playing video games while eating licorice. I hope that with them being put in the uterus with her egg will motivate them to move their asses and hook up and get my wife pregnant.

     I hope to have news in the next week or so. Until then, I will treat my wife as if she is “with child” by not letting her do any strenuous chores, although the doctor told her to go about living life the same as usual. But until we know, we will wait.

Things That I Wonder About…

     Is it me, or does it seem that these new younger news reporters on our local tv stations, especially here in Detroit, are gay? Is news reporting the new popular job among gay men?

     If a caller calls in to a radio talk show threatening to commit suicide, is the host of the show responsible for that person’s death because he hung up on the caller, or should he stay on the phone and try to find out where the caller is to get them help?

     How come I can’t get insured by Lloyd’s of London?

     Nepotism! Gotta love it! If you are crooked, as we are seeing from our leaders.

     In 1956, two airplanes crashed into each other over the Grand Canyon. 128 people died, making that the worst air disaster in history at that time.

     Small businesses located in front of big stores do much better business than being located inside a strip mall or standing alone.

     And speaking of strip malls, why can’t there be any that are up close to the street and have parking in the rear?

     Why do black people have the mentality that when an athlete does something great, he or she is suddenly owed tons of money? I ask this because of the Michael Phelps pot smoking ordeal and him losing his endorsements. He is NOT owed anything! He chose this lifestyle, he chose to sign those contracts and he chose to swim. I feel bad the dude is not mature enough to take on such a responsibility, be just because he won 8 Gold Medals does not mean he will immediately get a whole bunch of money. I wish that mentality would go away.

What Do You Mean I’m Too Big?!?!

     I hurt my elbow at work last week and I filed paperwork about it with my supervisor, just to cover my ass in case it’s seriously screwed up.

     He asked me if I would be interested in seeing the company physical therapist before I go to the clinic. You see, people who get hurt immediately wanna run to the clinic and work it so they can have time off.

     I’m not like that. I wanted to try to “walk it off”. But it continued to hurt, right through the weekend. So I agreed to go see the physical therapist, who I went to today.

     He asked me several questions about how I hurt it, what kind of work I been doing since I hurt it, then he asked me what I do outside of work as far as keeping in shape.

     I told him that I run and that I am working on training to run in another marathon.

     Then he hit me with…

     “You’re too big big to be a runner!”

     What the hell?

    Here are my measurements. I stand at 6’4″ and I weigh 225. I am not fat, I have been losing weight in the past 3 months that I have been running again, and I am determined to drop more pounds and add up more miles.

     But his comment threw me for a loop! Who the hell is he to say such a thing? I ran a marathon, I ran cross country in high school, and I was All-State in track!

     Too big?

     He said that taller and bigger people aren’t made for running. Something about the knees. I know this. I have fought off a few knee problems, a few ankle problems, and I came out all right.

     This is just going to make my determination even stronger to prove, to yet another person, that I can do this.

     By the way, he gave me some exercises to work out my elbow problem and it’s starting to feel better already.

Did You Know That…

     …when a women farts when wearing a thong, the noise is the exact same as when air blown upon a grass blade between two thumbs does?

     …some men actually pluck hairs out of their nose and ears with their fingers rather that cutting them out?

     …a elephant can be pregnant up to 18 months?

     …French toilets actually slide out of a wall, and can only be the bowl part. When someone is done using it, the bowl will slide back into the wall and be hosed off and things are rinsed away into a drain that is inside a wall?

     …sucking dick and eating pussy is starting to become a reason men and women are getting oral cancer?

     …drinking too much water can actually expand the brain and kill you?

     …the planet earth’s fresh water supply is running out?

     …this chick, Megan Hauserman, from “Rock of Love” and “Charm School” on Vh1, actually has a college degree?

hot-hot-hauserman_512x769

     … I actuall thought she was hot until I found out she is going to be on another Vh1 show called “I Love Money” where a group of millionaires will be trying to win her over by impressing her with their wallets, charm, and over-all stupidity?


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