I Would - Brown Couch
Throw Me a Stone - Brown Couch
Curious - Brown Couch
30 March 2009
Simple Pleasures
Through my son I've been rediscovering some simple pleasures:
Watching ants scurry around an anthill.
Licking the bowl and beaters.
Planting flowers and daily checking on their progress.
Digging in the dirt.
Building tracks for matchbox cars.
Making sock puppets and spending the day using them to talk for us.
Rolling marbles down the stairs.
Baking cookies.
Running, skipping, hopping, jumping...everywhere.
Riding on the back of the grocery cart.
Ringing all the doorbells in the hardware store.
Climbing inside the bathtubs at Home Depot and pretending they're bobsleds.
I can't tell you how many more of these simple pleasures I'm looking forward to experiencing as my son ages, his imagination develops, and we go out into the wide world.
Watching ants scurry around an anthill.
Licking the bowl and beaters.
Planting flowers and daily checking on their progress.
Digging in the dirt.
Building tracks for matchbox cars.
Making sock puppets and spending the day using them to talk for us.
Rolling marbles down the stairs.
Baking cookies.
Running, skipping, hopping, jumping...everywhere.
Riding on the back of the grocery cart.
Ringing all the doorbells in the hardware store.
Climbing inside the bathtubs at Home Depot and pretending they're bobsleds.
I can't tell you how many more of these simple pleasures I'm looking forward to experiencing as my son ages, his imagination develops, and we go out into the wide world.
20 March 2009
Most Interestng Man in the World
I suppose, as a recovering alcoholic, I shouldn't be enjoying a good beer commercial, but I can't help but love the Dos Equis "Most Interesting Man in the World" campaign. They're witty, have a quirky sense of humor, and I love their retro feel. Who wouldn't want to be, or be with, the most interesting man in the world? If nothing else, it's given me a bunch of things to add to my list of things to do before I die.
Hope you all enjoyed the chuckle with me!
Hope you all enjoyed the chuckle with me!
18 March 2009
Maureen O'Hara
I need a woman like Maureen O'Hara.
Except Scottish, not Irish, or my grandmother would throw a fit.
Fiery, opinionated, strong, and a redhead. HAHA. But someone with a little sass. Someone who will tell me when I'm wrong and not back down when I roar back in protest. A classy woman, but someone who will do what needs doing, even if it means getting her hands dirty. Someone who knows what she wants. Someone to laugh with, cry with, and have really hot sex with. And most of all, someone who understands me, who I can talk, really talk, with.
I think the world today has gotten too crass for the likes of the Maureen O'Haras of the world. Women who are tough are often rough around the edges, or hardened. But where are the women who are tough but who are still women after all?
There is something about a woman. The way she smells. Tastes. The way her backside moves, "like jello on springs" as they say in Some Like It Hot. The way women are so friggin infuriating. The way she blushes.
So if you know any Maureen O'Hara's out there, let me know. Just so long as they're not married or think they're vampires. Or have a record. Or have our wedding planned out before the first date....
Except Scottish, not Irish, or my grandmother would throw a fit.
Fiery, opinionated, strong, and a redhead. HAHA. But someone with a little sass. Someone who will tell me when I'm wrong and not back down when I roar back in protest. A classy woman, but someone who will do what needs doing, even if it means getting her hands dirty. Someone who knows what she wants. Someone to laugh with, cry with, and have really hot sex with. And most of all, someone who understands me, who I can talk, really talk, with.
I think the world today has gotten too crass for the likes of the Maureen O'Haras of the world. Women who are tough are often rough around the edges, or hardened. But where are the women who are tough but who are still women after all?
There is something about a woman. The way she smells. Tastes. The way her backside moves, "like jello on springs" as they say in Some Like It Hot. The way women are so friggin infuriating. The way she blushes.
So if you know any Maureen O'Hara's out there, let me know. Just so long as they're not married or think they're vampires. Or have a record. Or have our wedding planned out before the first date....
10 March 2009
Rejection
We all are rejected at one time or another. We've all been dumped by a boyfriend or girlfriend. We've all been turned down when we ask for a date. Had a friend turn around and say you're not their friend any more.
Why do we reject others in society? Is it because they're not good enough? Not attractive enough? Not rich enough? Not Our Kind, Dear?
Who are worthy of being accepted and who are inferior and are rejected?
I've rejected a lot of people. Some intentionally, some not intentionally. Every day we make choices. We pick over fruit, vegetables, clothes... But most often we make choices about people in a split second. We choose to flash a smile to some stranger, and warm them. We choose to turn away from someone else and leave them cold. How much of it is random? How much of it is subconscious bias?
How diverse is the population you're exposed to on a daily basis? Not just racially or religiously. What about people who are wealthier or poorer? What about people who are thinner or fatter? Men, women... Gays, Lesbians, Bisexuals, Transvestites... People with disabilities, diseases, afflictions. Different cultures, different values, different ways of life. Most of us don't go out of our way to expose ourselves to where we're not in our comfort zone and we shortchange ourselves.
We're a cruel and indiscriminate bunch, us people of the world. We create false subsets of people in order to categorize them to make it easier to judge one's worthiness. Yet each of us is an individual, with individual experiences, individual views, individual needs. How can we treat someone as anything else other than someone unique? Yet they're categorized and judged, accepted or rejected, based upon whatever external worth we might place upon them.
Who is more worthy and who is less?
I'm certainly as guilty as anyone else. Sad, but something I hope to change. And something I hope to change in my son.
Why do we reject others in society? Is it because they're not good enough? Not attractive enough? Not rich enough? Not Our Kind, Dear?
Who are worthy of being accepted and who are inferior and are rejected?
I've rejected a lot of people. Some intentionally, some not intentionally. Every day we make choices. We pick over fruit, vegetables, clothes... But most often we make choices about people in a split second. We choose to flash a smile to some stranger, and warm them. We choose to turn away from someone else and leave them cold. How much of it is random? How much of it is subconscious bias?
How diverse is the population you're exposed to on a daily basis? Not just racially or religiously. What about people who are wealthier or poorer? What about people who are thinner or fatter? Men, women... Gays, Lesbians, Bisexuals, Transvestites... People with disabilities, diseases, afflictions. Different cultures, different values, different ways of life. Most of us don't go out of our way to expose ourselves to where we're not in our comfort zone and we shortchange ourselves.
We're a cruel and indiscriminate bunch, us people of the world. We create false subsets of people in order to categorize them to make it easier to judge one's worthiness. Yet each of us is an individual, with individual experiences, individual views, individual needs. How can we treat someone as anything else other than someone unique? Yet they're categorized and judged, accepted or rejected, based upon whatever external worth we might place upon them.
Who is more worthy and who is less?
I'm certainly as guilty as anyone else. Sad, but something I hope to change. And something I hope to change in my son.
08 March 2009
Thought of the Day
"...When you are Real, shabbiness doesn't matter."
-The Velveteen Rabbit
I think about elderly couples who still look at one another with love. Gray hair, saggy boobs, hairy ears and noses, flat butt, wrinkled faces, faded eyes... They are Real to one another. And those issues of time and tragedy make no difference in the love they have for one another.
I forget. It doesn't matter if I've been scarred emotionally and physically. It doesn't matter if I've lost my hearing. It doesn't matter if almost every bone in my body has been broken at some point and never quite healed correctly. It doesn't matter if I walk with an bit of a limp which I attempt to hide with a lope.
And one day, I too will be Real.
-The Velveteen Rabbit
I think about elderly couples who still look at one another with love. Gray hair, saggy boobs, hairy ears and noses, flat butt, wrinkled faces, faded eyes... They are Real to one another. And those issues of time and tragedy make no difference in the love they have for one another.
I forget. It doesn't matter if I've been scarred emotionally and physically. It doesn't matter if I've lost my hearing. It doesn't matter if almost every bone in my body has been broken at some point and never quite healed correctly. It doesn't matter if I walk with an bit of a limp which I attempt to hide with a lope.
And one day, I too will be Real.
06 March 2009
Cookies
So I love cookies. Not store bought, processed, crumbly pieces of cardboard that some call cookies. No, homemade, from scratch, warm from the oven cookies! Oatmeal (no raisins, which are grapes soaked in evil), chocolate chip, peanut butter, macaroons, black and whites, sugar, chocolate crinkles, snickerdoodles... I can go on and on and on about cookies. I do have some favorites, though if anyone is interested in sending me cookie recipes, I'd love to get them so I can try something new. Bring em on.
My mother makes me cookies. I'm a grown man, 34 years of age, yet my mother knows of my weakness. When she comes to visit, she makes as many cookies as I can stuff down my throat. Dough is rolled and frozen and tucked in the freezer for after she's gone, even though I'm perfectly capable of mixing my own cookies. Every so often a mystery package arrives in the mail for me, and it's Pringles cans full of cookies!
I am lucky. I'm tall and skinny and run. So my cookie consumption is burned off every day, but I'd have to say I eat at least a dozen a day. Yes, some people say they're junk food...but to me, they're little bits of heaven. And it's these heavenly bits, which I'm slowly teaching my son to make (it's manly to make cookies), is what my new blog is titled after. Just thought you'd all like to know.
My mother makes me cookies. I'm a grown man, 34 years of age, yet my mother knows of my weakness. When she comes to visit, she makes as many cookies as I can stuff down my throat. Dough is rolled and frozen and tucked in the freezer for after she's gone, even though I'm perfectly capable of mixing my own cookies. Every so often a mystery package arrives in the mail for me, and it's Pringles cans full of cookies!
I am lucky. I'm tall and skinny and run. So my cookie consumption is burned off every day, but I'd have to say I eat at least a dozen a day. Yes, some people say they're junk food...but to me, they're little bits of heaven. And it's these heavenly bits, which I'm slowly teaching my son to make (it's manly to make cookies), is what my new blog is titled after. Just thought you'd all like to know.
Moving to a New Venue
Well, kids, it's time to start over. I'm moving to somewhere where I have complete freedom of expression without being deleted because I am lacking in tact.
On with the blogging!
On with the blogging!
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