I'm So Tired...

I went to bed last night with the tv on, the air purifier running, my nice new central unit kicking ass and all was well. Right at 3:00 am, I was tossed from a dead sleep when everything went totally silent. The power was out. It wasn't raining, it wasn't drizzling, it wasn't even cloudy, and my damn power went out. Within about 20 minutes, the room was noticeable uncomfortable. So I laid there in the heat wide awake most of the night thinking....why me...and just as the I manage to either doze off from heat stroke or exhaustion, everything comes back on and wakes me up. So needless to say I got very little sleep and I feel like crap today...I hope the weekend has something better in store for me. Wish me luck!

Eating Anomaly

Today for lunch we went to Quizno's. They just opened one up in town and we were all pretty pumped to eat something other than the usual fast food joints. Come to find out the people working there all seem like convicts with fourth grade educations on work release programs. For example this was the conversation that ensued during my sandwich ordering fiasco: 

1:42 pm

Me: "On my Torpedo, I only want Bacon, Mayo and Chedder." 

Them: "Do you want the beef?"

Me: "...No..."

Them: "Do you want the spicy mustard?"

Me: "...No..."

Them: "So all you want is what?"

Me: "Bacon...Mayo....and Cheddar Cheese"

Them: "But it comes with beef you know?"

Me: "I know, but I just want Bacon...Mayo...and Cheddar"

Them: "So just mayo, and no spicy mustard?"

Me: "That's Correct"

Them: "Because it's a Torpedo Combo, I have to charge you for the beef."

Me: "That's fine."

Them: "Are you sure, it's the same price?"

Me: "Yes....I'm certain."

Them: "Ok so what was it you wanted again?"

Me: "B A C O N....M A Y O...and C H E D D A R"

Them: "So you want extra bacon?"

(I hadn't thought of that, but it sounded good)

Me: "Yea, that's fine."

Them: "I'll have to charge you for extra bacon."

Me: "That's fine...

(A line is forming behind me)

Them: "EXTRA BACON!" (He yells to the moron on the other side of the oven conveyer belt thing)

(Apparently this is a major undertaking.)

Them: "Ok so extra bacon, mustard and cheddar?"

(He's about to add mustard)

Me: "No, mayo, not mustard"

Them: "Oh, yea..right."

(He finally gathers up enough brain cells to make the sandwich and sends it through the oven thing.)

1:53 pm

(Out it comes and now I'm dealing with another "special" employee, this time a woman.)

Me: "Just lettuce please."

Her: "What kind of sandwich is this?"

Me: "Bacon, Beef & Cheddar Torpedo, minus the beef"

(She carefully studies her complex sandwich graph which illustrates with colors, lines, graphs and pictures what goes on any given sandwich. She's totally perplexed.)

Her: "But this comes with lettuce, tomato and sauce."

Me: "I know, I just want lettuce."

Her: "Are you sure, we have to charge you for the other stuff."

Me: "That's Fine."

(She adds the lettuce and practically destroys the sandwich trying to get it into a cardboard "Torpedo Holster".)

Her: "Is this for here or to go?"

Me: "For here."

(She wrestles my sandwich back out of the cardboard thing, cuts it in half and places it into a basket thing.)

1:59 pm

(I've reached the final step in my journey, the checkout, and alas another classic employee.)

Her: "Would you like to make it a combo?"

Me: "Yes"

Her: "What kind of sandwich?" 

Me: "Bacon, Beef & Cheddar Torpedo"

(Employee one beckons): "EXTRA BACON!"

Me: "Yes, with extra bacon."

(Employee two pipes up): "But he didn't have beef."

Me: "That's right, I didn't want any."

Her: "Well we have to charge you for it, it's part of the sandwich."

Me: "That's fine"

Her: "I'm also going to have to charge you for extra bacon."

Me: "That's fine"

(She peers down at the register in a complete panic.)

Her: "I'm not exactly sure what to charge you for."

(Looking at me for answers.)

Me: "Well...I had a Beef, Bacon & Cheddar...so charge me for that."

Her: "But you didn't have the beef."

Me: "I'm aware."

(Line forming behind me again.)

Her: "I'm going to have to get the manager"

2:12 pm

(The manager shows up to check me out.)

Her: "Would you like to make it a combo?"

Me: "Yes"

Her: "What kind of sandwich?" 

Me: "Bacon, Beef & Cheddar Torpedo, extra bacon, no beef"

Her: "No beef?"

Me: "That's right, I didn't want any."

Her: "Well we have to charge you for it, it's part of the sandwich."

Me: "That's fine"

Her: "I'm also going to have to charge you for extra bacon."

Me: "That's fine"

2:19 pm

($6.50 and I'm at my seat.)

As if this whole unbelievable feat of mental retardation wasn't messed up enough, I open my bag of chips to a really strange surprise. The picture above is of a giant chicken nugget sized, 1/4 inch thick compressed puck of Baked BBQ Lays seasoning I found in my bag. Needless to say with this chunk of extra heavy dark matter in my bag, there were only about 6 chips in there. Rather than fight it, I just ate my Mayo, Bacon, Cheddar and Lettuce sandwich and just reflected on the whole messed up situation.

A Good Lesson About Life

So yesterday I get a call from my Mom and she just sounded totally beat. This isn't uncommon, my Mom is an extremely hard working woman and it isn't out of place for her to call in a state of total exhaustion. So we began chatting and the story that followed could have only happened to her. I've discussed my family a little before and in relating these stories I hope that you, the reader, can get a little more insight into their unusual lifestyle.

She began her day like any other, getting up, reading the paper and having a hot cup of coffee. My niece and nephew were over and she was trying to sneak in a few more minutes of quiet time before they woke up. It was about this time that she realized that the day before she had left one of her new canopy up a few yards down. When she got there, the storm the evening before had filled one entire side with water, thus crushing it and bending the legs. Upon trying to straighten them out, one broke entirely, rendering a two-hundred dollar canopy useless.

After losing the battle with the canopy, she noticed that the kids had left water balloon parts floating throughout the pool. She proceeded to scoop them up, and placed them in a bowl of water set aside for feet washing when getting in and/or out of the pool until she could get to a trash can. After doing this, she noticed that a beach ball from some distant land had rolled up into the yard. So she went to pick it up, in the meantime stepping in some dust and getting her flip flops dusty. She walked back near the pool and put both feet in the washing container with the balloon parts for a rinse. Apparently the water being hot, combined with some bizarre chlorine reaction, the balloon parts had become like melted gum on a sidewalk, entirely ruining her flip flops.

Frustrated and hot, she went back to the house to finish up some laundry. It was a sunny day, so she had placed some of the lesser important items out on the clothesline to dry. She pulled those in and headed to the shed to retrieve the kids good clothes from the dryer. Apparently at some point a tube of chapstick made it into the dryer and had melted all over everything. Thus, she had to stain-stick just about every inch of an entire load of clothes and wash them again. So while in the washer (the 2nd time) she decided to check on the clothes before going through the rinse cycle to insure that all the chapstick smudges were removed. When she opened the washer, somehow several globs of what appeared to be black grease had miraculously appeared. They hadn't stained the clothes, but were well on there way to doing so, and in order to avoid this, she removed all the wet clothes and removed the grease carefully with her nails. After a third washing in clean water, and a drying, minus the chapstick, she had finally finished the laundry. Following this she set her sights on putting them away.

She walked to a bedroom to put the clothes in the kids luggage. While putting the clothes up, she noticed a really foul smell. So she looked around and didn't see anything, and figured maybe it was just the dumpster across the street. They live near a small grocery store, and if the breeze is just right, it will blow a horrific smell in the direction of her house. As she moved around the house, the foul smell seemed to come and go, come and go. This put her into investigation mode and she began seeking out the smell. After several minutes of looking she finally followed the trail of smell to one location. The horrendous odor was coming from their morbidly obese weenie dog, T-Nom (French for "Little Man"). Apparently my Dad had boiled a massive pot of chicken for chicken salad and had in a totally moronic move, dumped this reeking, greasy both-like water under a tree in the grass in their back yard. T-Nom in all his amazing dogness had zeroed in on this spot and rolled in it. After doing so, he tracked this greasy, awful film throughout the entire house. There were tracks everyplace. He had jumped on several of the table chair cushions (which are fabric), two beds, the rug in the bathroom, and the recliner. Even after all this, my Mom claimed there was still enough of it on him to make him appear lacquered from all the grease.

It's hard to imagine all this happening to an individual before 9:00 a.m., but it did, and I believe it could only happen to my Mom. Despite none of this being my fault, I felt so terrible about the whole thing. Her normal job is reading water meters. The job entails walking out in the blistering heat, digging in the mud, dealing with dogs, fences, snakes and spiders. She walks miles and miles each month insuring that you never pay too much for your water. In all, she reads over 4600 meters, and the number grows steadily each month. She recently found out that in St. Martinville, there are fewer meters, and it takes a team of four people three and a half weeks to do the job she by herself does in just under two. So to have a miserable morning like this in her off time, just makes me feel sorry for her, and I often wish she wouldn't have to work so hard.

Following the clean up of that giant mess, getting the kids up, fixing them breakfast, and taking them back to Baton Rouge, she still found time to come home and wash a sink full of dishes, another load of clothes and fix dinner. When I called her at 9 p.m. that evening, she was just laying down to go to bed.

After relating this soul crushing day to me, I couldn't help but imagine how spiteful she could have felt for being dealt such a trying and difficult life. I thought of how run down my old house was, how much in debt she is with my Dad's medical bills and how I know she will never fully be without struggle.

Once she had finished her story with a small sigh, what she said next was pretty profound. She said, "Ya know Dus, I may have to work hard, and I don't have any money, I may have bad luck with balloons and dogs and canopies, but I haven't lost an ounce of faith. I'm just so thankful that my family is healthy and doing well. I have a job, a roof over my head and we're a close family. I can still talk to my son & daughter anytime I want, I have wonderful grandkids and we all love each other, and when I think of this I know that I am truly blessed and a wealthy woman for it."

To think that a person could have this much of an unwavering love and respect for life and family really gave me a lot of confidence. People complain about not having some shirt, tv or newest phone that they don't have, and she manages to have nothing and feel like she has it all. I think she realized a long time ago that it's not the material things you have in life, but family, friends, and love that are most important, and without that, you don't have much.

It's So Cold In The D...'s House!

So yesterday, finally, we got some relief from the misery of having no AC in the house. I had to take off work yesterday to watch over the guys installing my new central unit. I was thinking, this will be nice, I can sleep until about ten o'clock, let the guys in and just chill while I make sure they don't break or steal anything. These dudes showed up at 5:23 am. This is obscenely early. I realize it's hot outside, but damn it was still dark out when they arrived. So anyways, one team came in and removed the old units and replaced them with my new and much more efficient model. But around 11 am, just when I thought I was in the clear, the guys comes to me with an issue. My new inside unit is shorter than my old one, so now he has to make a custom duct to connect the two. So I had to sit around the rest of the day waiting for the second team to come and attach this custom piece. So they didn't arrive until about 3 pm ... and it was hot in the house, very hot. And the second team had a "helper" with them who was some high school kid who almost put a ladder through my tv in the living room, in which case I would have promptly murdered him. Thankfully this did not happen.

So when they finally got done and cranked it up, I could just not stop smiling. This whole AC ordeal has taken over a month and I was just so glad to have some cold air blowing in my house. After everyone left, I set to work taking out window units, putting solar screens back on and getting all the fans out of there, and it felt so nice to have things back to normal. I also put the air down to 62 degrees and stood with my face up at one of the vents until my nose almost froze off, it was great. So in honor of this most cold and glorious occasion, I have posted this image of "Timothy", the snowman I made this year during one of our extremely rare snow days. Also, I ask that everyone go here http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aktLRiWXfqg and watch what I deem to be the absolute worst video ever put out on YouTube as a serious product. This video is by woman a "rapper" named T-Baby. I believe this video to be shot with a higher end webcam with the audio produced on a Talkboy Tape Recorder as made famous by Kevin McCallister in Home Alone 2, Lost in New York. If that isn't enough to entice you it's also a video response to a video called "Let Me Smell Yo Dick". So I ask that you view this masterpiece entitled "It's Cold in the D" in celebration of it's awfulness and my new AC.

Rock Out With Your #@$& Out!

Relief is on the way, or so I think. Yesterday we finally received a reasonable quote on a unit with total replacement. Sure, I'll be paying for this situation just as if it we're a mid-sized sedan, but at least I'll be cool. I'll just be glad to get the house back to normal. Right now it looks like homeless people ran across a nice home, and just decided to make it their new habitat.

Each day the homeless would scour refuse bins and street sides looking for anything to salvage. And as time progressed, they found several window units, an old sheet, a box fan, a small oscillating fan, some chairs and random other items. They would set up these items in pure homeless fashion, setting them up in odd places at various levels and in different directions. This is how my home looks. There are two different window units, one in the living room and one in the bedroom. There is a sheet blocking the doorway to the kitchen to keep the cold air from escaping the living room. There are box fans and little fans spread throughout the house on chairs, desks and tables to try and get some kind of air circulating. We have been reluctant to turn on lights or even use the stove because in doing so, we may find ourselves on the floor and dragging our overheated bodies to a room with an air conditioner. So the resulting home looks like it has no power, due to how dark it is, yet there are window units everyplace. And because the stove would heat our already totally uncooled kitchen, we cannot cook. So this has resulted in fast food bags, pizza boxes, drink cups and Big Mac boxes scattered around the house. So with all this in mind, anyone entering our home would certainly assume that it's once proud and sterile occupants were killed by transient hobo drifters and it was these men that were now the current residents.

So needless to say, I am so so excited to finally get things back to normal. I think I may throw a house back to normal party. The excitement and hype will be that people can come into my home and sit quietly in air conditioning. I think the theme will be "Rock Out With Your @#$& Out, But While Wearing Clothes In My Newly Air Conditioned Home." I may have to come up with an acronym..something like The ROWYCO,BWWCIMNAH Party. Either way, I just want some cold air and I hope we get it soon. The place we hired is supposed to be coming out to put it tomorrow and it won't be a day too soon.

Stella?

It's Saturday morning and it is ballsack hot. To give an update on the air conditioning ordeal, to say it's totally sucking doesn't give it justice. On the 9th I posted about the current situation, but at least at that time, the unit was somewhat functional even if only for a few minutes to cool the house in the evenings. But upon returning home on the 10th, it was leaking everyplace and was just totally and irreparably broken.  Fortunately or unfortunately the 2nd or 3rd time we had someone out here we decided as a precaution and to be able to at the very least sleep, we would install a window unit in the bedroom. So now every waking minute is the two of us confined to our bedroom. If we have to eat, want to watch tv, work on the computer or anything. This has become very old, very quickly. 

It has become increasingly difficult to even get people out to the house to get estimates. The really expensive places, who have dedicated salesmen are able to come out, but all are asking between six and eight thousand dollars, this is total lunacy. So my living situation and freedom to roam around my home are limited by underfunded and extremely busy smaller companies. 

Last night while confined to the room due to it being between 80 and 85 degrees in the rest of my house, I was trying to find anything tolerable on tv. While filing through the guide, I found that, A Streetcar Named Desire, was just starting. I knew the book was written by Tennessee Williams, and I figured, this dude's name is Tennessee, he has to be a total badass. I mean how can you have a name like that and not be ballin' out f control? 

I had never seen it, although I had read the book in high school and was familiar with Elaine from Seinfeld's rendition of Stanley's infamous "Stella" scream. I don't think that I could have watched a more appropriate movie for the situation. It was set in a run down and shitty part of New Orleans. This aspect gave it locality but also gave me a good sense of just how fucking hot it was for these characters. The three of them were confined to a tiny room, in a hot house, and it was evident that there was some serious shit going down with all the main characters. Three people forced to live together due to uncontrollable situations...how fitting. It also dealt with mental illness, depression, anxiety, alcoholism and of course just the heat of a Louisiana summer. This had to have been one of the most memorable viewing experiences in my life. This due in part to the fact that I could relate to small aspects of all three characters. Stella's want to be with someone despite the obvious repercussions, Stanley's love and lust for life and his inner struggles, and Blanche's want to be someplace else in this crazy plot.

I think in order to write this book, Tennessee must have found this set of characters in different places and people throughout his life. And I think in a little way it helped me com to grips with my situation and everything that's been going on. It made me realize my problems, in the scheme of things aren't that bad. I may have some issues, but others have it much worse, so there's really no reason to get down for long. I feel like I have good friends, my health, a wonderful, although sometimes strange family, and someone who I love unconditionally. So with this in mind, I guess a little hot air isn't much to gripe about, and I'm just looking forward to better, cooler days.

This Is How I Roll...

I found the posted image of myself and figured I'd put it up as a reminder of better days. This picture is of me I'm assuming around the age of 3. Look at me with that mower, I imagined I cut the grass with that thing a thousand times. My mom recalled me following my dad around when he cut the grass with the real push mower. The two of us would go in circles in the yard and as he would cut, I was certainly there as a backup to mush any grass down that was left in his wake. And after we labored in the yard, my dad would take me to the store next door for an orange pop and a bag of nacho cheese Doritos. I have to admit this seems like such a simpler time. I mean back then I could just get a simple orange drink and I had my choice of only two kinds of Doritos, Nacho Cheese or Ranch. It was a simple choice and I'm sure within minutes my face and clothes were covered in both snack items.

Now even when posed with as simple choice, such as what flavor of Dorito, I don't know what the hell to pick. There is everything from "X-13D Flavor Experiment" to "Tacos at Midnight." This shit is totally wack. I think sometimes I was born in the wrong era. I wish I had been around for times when people could smoke on black and white panel game shows and Eames Atomic was the pattern on my dinnerware. These were the days when things weren't such a monumental clusterfuck, or so it seems. I would have loved nothing more than to court my "number one gal" to the soda store for a float, followed by a walk home together past mom & pop department store windows showing off their new radios in storefronts. Back when someone would hand write a letter or offer you a glass of milk, and it would be presented to you in an actual glass, and you would accept it graciously.

I realize that it wasn't all good, I'm sure there was still plenty of racial tension and there was only one hairstyle, for guys anyway. And I'm certain my name would have been John or Howard and I could have possibly had a nickname like Buddy or Chip, all monotonous and cliché. Televisions were the size of mini-coopers and you would bust your ass all day for a a quarter, fifty cents if you were fortunate. 

Maybe I'm just living beyond reality, but it also seemed like emotions and feelings weren't as frivolous and overlooked as they are now. Possibly I'm just from the old school and I won't even open my mouth about emotion unless it's someone who has made a profound difference in my life. In high school I had gym class with a smooth talking italian guy nicknamed "Chopper". He had the ability to be with any girl he chose, I think this gift is wasted on people like him. The guys would bet him to sleep with certain girls and on other occasions try and get them pregnant. And if anyone had this ability, it was him. I asked him once how he did it, what was his secret. His only response was..."this is how I roll."

I used to want to be that guy with the power to make any girl instantly fall in love with him. In Chopper's case it was to bag as many virgins as possible and try and possibly get one pregnant. For me it was more about devoting my life to this other person, and living my life so that I did everything in my power to insure their happiness. And hopefully this person would feel the same way.  Guys like me, the nice guys, are typically the bronze metal guys. Falling far short of Chopper's "this is how I roll" attitude, and below another level of  mindless jocks. Squeezing in someplace in between the kids that always got picked on, and the kids who's faces were constantly forgotten. In the case of handing out valentines, no one in this gray area was safe when it came to getting left out.

I think I get this deep love and devotion from my grandmother. She met a man while waiting tables at WalGreens named Simon Lopez. The two had a small chat and she was instantly infatuated. She spent the rest of her life trying to write him letters and contact him. She dreamed of the day when the two of them could have a home together. She wanted the life portrayed in magazine advertisements for butterball turkeys and jiffy popcorn. A life spent dedicated to her lover, having meals ready when he got home from a long day at work. Having the kids tucked in before he retired to their home in the evening. She wanted to go on moonlit walks and sit on park benches together. She whole heartedly devoted just short of sixty-five years to this idea. In all this time, she never gave up, and never doubted that one day he would return to her. All this built on one conversation, and in all that time, she never received a letter or any type of communication. Following her death we discovered hundreds of letters written throughout the years, all stamped with either "return to sender" or "invalid address."  In thinking about this, you have to consider if this was a wasted life? Or was this just her way of having something to believe in and hope for in a crazy and ever changing world. I firmly believe that Simon Lopez was of the "this is how I roll" school, and my grandmother a dying breed of devoted individuals the believed in something greater for themselves. I think she knew that only she could bring a certain level of love and devotion to this man's life. In her life, Simon Lopez was her Moby Dick and in having him to chase after, just as the Mody never knew it, and Simon never will either and in this way, they complimented and completed one another.

I know how she felt and still continue to do so, and maybe, just maybe, one day I'll catch my white whale. I have with much regret missed the opportunity once in my life, I just hope that things will be different the next time around and things will work out for the best.

Very Un-Cool

So today I pretty much found out that the past 30 days of frustration, money and maintenance of our AC unit were all for nothing. This whole fiasco started when the outdoor units fan went out on a Sunday..at night. This led to overtime plus weekend hours to get someone out to fix it. So the guy came out and replaced the fan on the outside unit. The fan and other parts, plus labor, plus overtime/after hours pay came to almost $700.

Two weeks later it appeared as though the unit was running, but there just wasn't much air coming out. This again, happened on a Sunday, at night. So the guy came out and found that the first guy hadn't checked out filter or coils and they were dirty. He was going to clean them at no charge (because the previous guy should have done this in the first place)...assuming we signed up for $169 maintenance agreement, which put them coming out twice a year for inspection. So due to being almost 90 degrees in my home, I figured it was worth it. So he cleaned out everything and after putting the casing back on we noticed the inner fan making noise. So he went and changed out a capacitor, which fried my inner fan. So this night we had to leave the house and sleep at our respective parents houses as not to literally sweat to death. 

The following day, he arrived with the new motor and a new hefty bill for almost $600 this go round, so we assumed that this would conclude the matter. He also informed us the the next day, another team of guys would be coming out to clean everything better. This being the first visit of the two we signed up for in the contract. So these assholes come in and don't properly tighten the caps on the freon valves.

Fast forward to Monday, and I arrive home to the unit being totally frozen up. We thawed it out and got someone to come out again the following day, he cleaned things and added more freon telling us the for the most part our unit was falling apart at the seams, twenty-four years old and he highly recommended we replace it. And if we didn't that we certainly could not run the heater at all due to leaks that could push carbon monoxide through my house, effectively killing me in my sleep. I wish the first guy, or the second guy, maybe the third, or fourth guy would have mentioned this...but no it was the fifth guy and $1300 later. This is the kind of thing you really, and I mean REALLY, do not want to hear or have to deal with after so much money, time and stress had been spent on this total bullshit.

So today we had a guy to come out and give us an estimate on a totally new system, inside and out. He looked at the house for about ten seconds, outside for about fifteen seconds, then proceeded to slide a sheet of paper in front of my with a quote of eight thousand dollars.....yes, you read correctly that's $8000. I seriously thought he was joking. We have called several other places since and hope to get smaller estimates, but from what I can tell I won't be getting off with any less than four thousand and I'm thinking closer to five. Now my question, to myself and these fine gentleman that run these quality establishments is, where exactly am I supposed to shit five thousand dollars? Most of the places around here don't finance, and the ones that do, offer interest rates between 11% and 15%, and I would be financing this unit for forty-eight months, thats four years. Four fucking years. I totally feel like life has its boot on my throat and is saying."You will remain miserable you sad fuck". 

Right now I feel the only thing keeping me going what-so-ever is just family, friends and the hope for things to get better eventually. In the near term, I just hope to stay healthy, focus on the people I love, and God willing, just get a little cold air.

The Gallus Gallus Domesticus Organization

Yesterday evening I decided to drop in on my parents after work for a visit. It had been a few days since I had made a pit stop, and I figured that I'd stop by and get the usual dirt from my mom. This usually consisted of things my sister has done that she disapproves of, and the normal local rhetoric. It's something I enjoy, and I wouldn't trade my visits with her for the world.

I pulled up at the house to notice another car already there, it was an old friend of the family, and I was pretty upbeat about getting to chat with them as well as my parents. As I entered the house, I got a rush of memories just from the smell. My parents house smells like that box of keepsakes from your first love that we all kept in a special hiding place. Later in life we would discover it again, blow a thin layer of dust from the shoe box lid and take an unfulfilled emotional ride. This is how I feel when I enter my parents house, and that smell always brings me back to childhood.

When I entered the house, I moved directly to the kitchen which has always been and will always remain the epicenter of visiting. If those kitchen walls could talk, I think they would choose not to speak, because they would figure enough talking had gone on in that room for a hundred lifetimes, and not an extra word need be said. 

In the kitchen sitting at the table was my mom and Miss Gail, an old friend of hers, both elbow deep in old pictures. Apparently, they had began talking about some random individuals cousins, brothers, uncle or something, and my mom insisted she had a picture of this person. This had launched and all out picture-quest of epic proportions. As they were going through stacks and stacks of old images that were yellowed and weathered in time Miss Gail made a discovery that she found a bit off. She said, "What the heck is going on here?" The picture she held up to show us can be described as such:

The interior of a van, the camera facing the second row of seats. You can tell the van is packed for vacation, and in three edges of the images are laughing faces, my mom, sister & grandmother. Framed in center is my niece Hannah, only about five at the time. Her face is forever captured, red with tears streaming down her face, and a pitiful face that didn't just convey being upset, but a genuine expression that illustrated how hurt her feelings were. So the resulting image, taken by her father, shows three grown women laughing hysterically, not with, but at this unbelievably distraught child. 

My mom couldn't recall what the picture was about, and within thirty seconds they had moved on in their hunt. Little did they know that the image and situation surrounding it had resulted in one of the more poignant experiences in my life.

I knew for a fact that this image had been shot in upstate New York, and of all places at the speaker area of a Burger King drive-thru. My mom, grandmother and I had drove up to visit relatives that lived in a remote area of the Adirondack Mountains. A quaint little house nuzzled in the foothills. My sister, niece and brother-in-law (at the time) Paul could not drive with us due to work, so had decided to fly up and meet us a few days later. 

We had just picked them up from the airport, and Hannah, having just gotten off the flight from heavy sleep was hungry and cranky. We all decided to let her choose where to eat, and in doing so, it seemed to lift her spirits a little. She decided on Burger King, and that was just fine with everyone and was even commended her on making a fine selection.  Paul in the drivers seat, pulled up to the ordering area in the BK and leaned back to get everyones order. He got Hannah's order first, which was a cheeseburger (plain) kids meal with a Dr. Pepper. After she said it, Paul relayed it to the half broken speaker and took the next one of our orders. I sitting in the way-back was last to order and I decided that I wasn't in the mood for a burger, but more a chicken sandwich. So I relayed my order of a chicken club combo to Paul who told it to the speaker and completed our order. As we began to pull to to that infamous "first window", Hannah began to cry and sob and was in all noticeably very upset. Everyone kinda noticed and my mom put her arm around her and said, "Boo, what's the matter?" Hannah looked up at her with teary eyes, and said..."but Granny....I wanted to be in the Chicken Club..." It was just about the funniest thing to have ever come out of her mouth. The resulting picture looks like three grown adults laughing at a crying child. 

The laughing eventually subsided and we ate our meals on the ride to our relatives house. After settling in, the night progressed and I could tell that all day Hannah had just not been herself. That evening I called Hannah to the living room and popped her on my knee and asked her what had been bothering her. With some prying she disclosed to me that the whole misunderstanding with the chicken club had really embarrassed her and she felt so silly for not understanding. I told her that she was five, and she had a lot of little things to learn. After a pep talk, she seemed a little better, but still not up to her bubbly standards. 

Following our chat, I found some paper, a few color pencils and a single blue crayon. I went to work and an hour or so later I found her at the table and told her when the big hand on the clock was on the six to come to the living room for a "secret meeting". She was very excited and right on time she showed up. I helped her fill out the application I had made. After consideration by the board, she was accepted and taught the official handshake. And together in quiet we established and were inducted into "The Chicken Club". I can remember the smile on her face and the big hug I received. I put her to bed later that night and after tucking her in and putting the light out, she called me over and whispered, "Thanks, for letting me in The Chicken Club Uncle Dus." and then she giggled and rolled over to sleep. In my opinion it's moments like these that make life worth living. And I think together we learned that no idea, or question is too silly and anything is possible if you want it to be.  To date The Chicken Club or TCC still only currently has 2 members, and no expansion is seen in the near future.

Rocketboy

I can recall summers in South Louisiana being such a magical time. My friends and I used to camp out in my front yard, and rough it. We were just over ten feet from my parents house, but we were men and we knew it. The nights were filled with Capri Sun by the case and half eaten, but all opened, bags of various and sundry chips & cookies, real staples for the untamed wilderness that was my yard. We used to sit around the fire pit and tell stories and epic tales of how our lives would be and what careers we would pursue... Astronauts, engineers, mad scientists, and the first man to ride his bike to the moon, they were sizable goals, but at that time they seemed totally feasible. I mean, I could see how a person could strap a few bottle rockets to a rusty old Schwin, have a pal light them off, and before long you were there. The moon would be yours and there you could bask near the sea of tranquility and sip on a strawberry fanta and eat cheeseballs. At the time, the guys at NASA seemed like they were just being overly safe. A massive rocket? Space suits? Who needed all that crap anyways. It was a time when the heat of the summer evenings was pleasant (or seemed more so anyways). 

Now that I'm a little older, in age anyways, I can't imagine feeling that way about the heat. It is literally hotter than two weasels fucking in a wool sock outside. I mean seriously, to walk outside is to feel like someone has draped a cliché bear skin rug over you, and forced you to walk about with it on your entire body. I can't even walk to my car without beads of sweat, and it's less than twenty feet from any given building I am in. And never did I imagine that heat could cause such pandemonium in my life.

Air conditioning is a must have here, if you don't have it, you can't function. In the past month, I have spent upwards of a thousand dollars getting our AC unit fixed on three different occasions. The most recent of which I still struggle to comprehend. How a person can come into your home, clean a few grills, and then proceed to burn out a $500 fan motor is beyond me, but yes it happened and it sucked thoroughly. But it is this repair man that created a chain of events that at the thought makes me feel as though fate has taken a baseball bat to my life. Aside from the expense of fixing the unit, he suggested that we put a window unit in our bedroom in order to only cool that room at night. It made sense, why run a massive outdoor unit when a small one could keep our bedroom cool. So we proceeded to do this, and in doing so we realized that the room wasn't very well insulated. I figured this as much because our bedroom was an addition and previously a sun room. It being a sun room it has seven windows, which brought us to the next conclusion of covering those up so it doesn't get as hot and keeping more cool air trapped. This in turn led my father-in-law to building us custom shudders for those windows. My only request was that he not put them up until he had latches to hold them down. Of course he put them up without them in a hurry to avoid air being lost in a home that isn't his. This leads us to last night. It has been incredibly hot, and to have some rain is great, but last night the weather got pretty rough. This morning I woke up at 3:23 am to the sound of three shutters right behind my head beating the shit out of my house. This combined with thunder and heavy rains was more than enough to keep me up. So I decided to go and sleep in the living room. The living room is much quieter, I can drown out the weather with cartoons and get some sleep. Well...unfortunately, because of the window unit being in the room with the thermostat, the rest of the house was easily over 80 degrees. So it was a choice between being hot and sweaty, but have tv and possibly be able to sleep, or go back into the cold room with thunder and shudders pummeling my head. 

In the end, I chose the armpit heat of my living room with the cat. And us sweating it out together is what made me really contemplate things in my life and recall my childhood and camping with my friends. What happened to those days of dreams and camping and enjoying life? What happened to my life that I lost that since of adventure? As I sat there in the dark, the clouds pouring rain onto my house, thunder surrounding myself and the cat I really wished I was on my old bike. I wished that I would have found someone in my life to support me, make me a better person, and if nothing else...just light my bottle rockets. Even is was only to stand back, watch the rockets go off in a blaze of glory, melting portions of the back tire and spokes and after all the smoke had cleared I wouldn't have moved an inch. But it wouldn't be about having not succeeded, but rather about having someone to believe in me. This is the person I strive to be for others, and one day I hope to find someone like this, to pick me up when I fail, smile when I succeed and be there to tell me, we'll get em' next time.

Prologue / The Pet Saga

In the beginning...

I was born on a cool day in November of 1983 to a loving mother, an alcoholic father and a sister who quite literally cried when she found out I was a boy. She's 7 years older than me and she's always been quite the adversary. Growing up, she often went totally ape-shit trying to get attention, often doing terribly in school. This drove my mom crazy, and more often than not, fighting and arguing were commonplace. And being that I didn't want to get into any of this drama, I kept to myself and tried my best in school, I'm certain developing some kind of perfect child complex. And I think all this has led to the peculiar lifestyle that I lead now.

So let's start with the beginning and my earliest memories. My family lived in, and my mother and father still currently reside in, an old cajun home that is about 120 years old and somehow managing to stay intact. I keep waiting to hear that some kind of strange rube goldberg situation happened involving a raccoon, a shopping cart and a bag of marbles, and my mom will call me saying, "I'm not sure what happened, but there was a raccoon, and I heard a noise, I heard marbles and rickety metal, and now our house is gone." And I'll have to inquire, and the story that will follow would be unbelievable to anyone who didn't know my family. Some people might find a raccoon odd and out of place, but growing up in the deep south, we had our share of exotic/totally wild pets. I have had everything from flying squirrels to turtles, rabbits and chickens. At one point my family had a bluejay named Pete that met an untimely demise in the toilet. I'm not sure exactly how it happened, but I think it involved a door being left open and the toilet seat being left up. This combined with a heavy toilet seat and a bird flapping erratically, made for a blunt porcelain guillotine type action.  It's a visual only possible to obtain from my household, and for this and other bizarre happenings, I am forever grateful.  

As a child these animals are fun and interesting, but as a young adult, they just got annoying. I'm not referring to the normal cats & dogs that paraded around my house, but the animals that should be outside, but were in our bathroom. My dad had this habit of putting baby pigeons on the bathroom counter in just an old cardboard box. This seems annoying enough, but compile this with the fact that this was the only bathroom in our house. And upon entering the bathroom at any slight noise, these birds would give off shrill screams and began flightless clumsy flapping. This in turn would send birdseed shrapnel and tiny feathers air-born. Imagine trying to brush your teeth at 6:45 in the morning with this going on 2 feet away. This would go on until I just couldn't take it anymore and would scribe out an eviction notice, carefully taping it to the formentioned animal's box. I did this in the hopes that when I got home from school, this little tyrant might be moved, and luckily, by evening, the pigeon had found a new residence. You might see this as a progressive movement, until you would notice that it's new home was the kitchen counter, or perhaps even the kitchen table. And all a person could do in this situation is view this scenario with disbelief and relinquish a sigh that just says...."....fuck...".