Be sure to read, understand and follow all the safety rules that come with your Tinyhands
What if, just for this one night, we weren't bloggers?
What if we were just a man and a woman?
All alone on this crazy internets.
Couldn't we just upload and download each other?
With no guilt. No regrets. No real names.
(But if we were just a man and another man we'd just be friends.)
Use only premium fuel in Tinyhands
By my reckoning, this is my 300
th post and, given the western tradition of celebrating things in groups of base-10, it's a milestone. A minor milestone, perhaps, but one worth observing in grandiose style. Therefore, this post will be extraordinary. This will, dare I say it, be the greatest entry ever written.
In this paragraph, I describe all the funny, quirky things that happened to me since I last published. This is some really funny stuff about bar-hopping and spending an afternoon with my sister's kids. I've written some funny stuff in the past, even if it's only funny to me, but this will have you on the verge of tears. Good tears, of course, because in this extraordinary post you'll experience a full range of human emotions. In this paragraph, laughter. Feel free to snort.
The next paragraph will bring forth more tears, of sadness this time. Life is a rollercoaster, and the greatest blog entry of all time will take you along a ride of highs and lows. The painful story I recount here isn't meant to depress you, merely to connect with your emotions as a human being. This is really a tender moment, which is fortunate for you that it's in writing so that you can stop to go get a tissue. Love, loss, love again, and then loss again. This is really touching.
The greatest entry of all time doesn't go right back to gut-busting laughter though. I smooth out the ride with a bit of observational humor that brings a smile to your face. You might chuckle a bit as you recognize a bit of yourself or someone you know. You can't help it but you even pass off a bit of the greatest entry of all time as your own to your friends later that day. Unfortunately, your friends soon hear about the greatest entry of all time from other sources
(MSNBC? Fox News? C-SPAN? I merely speculate) and call you on it, but nobody's mad because the greatest entry of all time is good stuff.
Following that is a really sexy bit. If you're reading the greatest entry ever written at work you're really nervous and at the same time glad that there aren't pictures or illustrations. It's a little strange and foreign but you're definitely intrigued and can't stop reading. This part should probably come with a parental warning, but the last thing anyone wants to be reminded of with this hot, kinky, slightly depraved part is their parents. This paragraph also introduces a phrase with which you're not familiar and fortunately there's a link to the
Urban Dictionary so you can look it up. The greatest entry of all time arouses you, but in a family-friendly way just in case the kids are reading over your shoulder.
The grand finale to the greatest entry of all time is, of course, hilarious. And seriously, words don't do justice as to how funny the finale is. The funniest part of the greatest entry of all time is something that only my demented mind could invent, and the sheer ridiculousness of it is matched only by the depth of detail. The first time you read it, you're not sure you got all of it, because you were laughing so hard that you had to get up from the computer, clear the tears from your eyes, and/or get some fresh air. The next time, and each time after that, you see something new, some double-meaning. The greatest entry in the history of ever makes you laugh, it makes you cry. It's much better than Cats. You bookmark it and read it again and again.
Clean Tinyhands with a damp cloth
I've started and stopped this entry more times than I can count. I should just stop editing myself and type as the words come to me. There's always time to regret it tomorrow.
I just can't stop thinking about you, and how you walked out that door without saying a word. It was just like in the movies. Ok, it probably
was in your best interest, but it was so sudden and final. Abrupt. I have sat and stared at that door for hours, willing it to open again with you on the other side. I'm ruined for others until I know what happened to you. Is it pathetic that I'd pick up where we left off in a heartbeat? I'll always believe that's why but you have no idea how special you were to me because you never gave me a chance to tell you.
I've been told that you're damaged, beyond repair. They told me that you were a golddigger, believing that the mine had run dry. Hating you, like they want me to, would be the easy way out. But who wins? Not you, not them, and certainly not me.
Do not exceed 2 Tinyhands per 24 hour period
I just took some pills. I didn't take more than the recommended dose, so you don't need to call 911 or anything. That would be a funny phone call though-
Umm, some guy in Houston, I think, took some pills. No, I only took 2 but I wonder would it would be like to take more. Someone else wrote about that. It's not suicidal, it's curiosity. Since it seems that I didn't get the latest job I was up for, I wonder if anyone who knows me would really fault me if I did OD. I imagine they'd wonder how I held out this long. I like to think they'd be in awe. They'd say, "
I knew this one guy who went like 6 months and he couldn't take it and finally stepped in front of the metro rail rather than watch another episode of Dr. Phil. But Tinyhands? Woo-boy!" I've gone a lot longer than that, and without the other things too. But I don't want to be forcibly cheered-up. I'd rather have someone agree with the logic of my depression than try to tell me that I'm wrong and should look on the bright side. Since when does disagreeing with someone actually help?
Avoid over-inflating Tinyhands
It was a pretty ordinary day in the life. I ran some errands at lunch time, killed an hour or two online shopping for a new harddrive
(mine claims to be failing, I think it's just lazy), had a light supper and went for a walk. I had the opportunity to listen to the new Dixie Chicks album yesterday and I loaded it into the mp3 player for tonight's walk. I don't really consider myself a DC fan, and I don't really even like country music, but it makes for good walking music. The way I figure, country music is mostly enjoyed by white people, who have genetically-deficient rhythm DNA. Country music has a very steady beat, making it easy for the poor white folks
(that's poor in the 'flawed' sense, as I don't wish to cast aspersions about their economic status, that would be prejudiced) to follow along while dancing. Thus, good walking music. And actually, there's a couple of songs that I kind of like.
Say what you will about their politics
(actually, don't) but if you criticize the Dixie Chicks for saying out loud what they believe, and sticking to their principles despite the hailstorm of shit it brought down on them, then you're either the tallyman
(the afghanwhigistan guys who tally me banana) or a member of el queso.
The evening walk was nice. I used to walk around the neighborhood a lot. Then it got really cold over the winter
(low 60s) and I slacked-off. Now that it's warm again
(low 90s) I'm getting back to my routine. Sometimes, though not as often as I'd like, as soon as I step out the door I start writing. Tonight was one of those nights, although this is not what I wrote. As I walked along, music in my ears, I wrote what I hope will eventually be the forward to a book. When I got home about an hour later I sat down at the computer and typed it all out.
Until you know how Tinyhands will affect you, do not drive or operate heavy machinery
Since a picture is worth a thousand words, I'll shut up and let you see some of what I saw this weekend. Twelve new photos in the
Houston at Night album from Saturday night and a new album from Sunday afternoon at
Bayou Bend, suspiciously entitled
Bayou Bend.
As usual, feel free to speculate amongst yourselves which is my favorite.
Keep Tinyhands in a cool, dry place
I had fast-food for dinner a few nights ago. I'm not proud of it, so this is my confession. I don't know what came over me, since I very rarely eat fast-food, but as dinner time approached, the window in which to start cooking slowly narrowed to the point at which I would have been starving had I then begun. So I hopped into the car and bought a hamburger
(two patties, bacon, cheese, and mayo if you must know - total fat: 911) and medium fries. Shortly after devouring it I felt terrible, not physically
(although that would come later) but mentally. It occurs to me that fast-food is a lot like masturbation: When the uncontrollable urge hits you, you have got to satisfy it. It's over way too quickly and you feel guilty about it for hours.
(Or maybe that's just me) The next day I took a double dose of
Lipitor™, my version of the morning-after pill.
In other food related news, I noticed a commercial on TV for a popular over-the-counter antacid/heartburn/acid-reflux medication which I won't name here because they haven't paid me to do so.
(Note to advertisers: I can be bought) In this particular ad, a father is about to chomp down on a spicy burrito, while his family looks on in horror. What the family doesn't know is that the man has recently taken a dose of this particular drug and that the spicy food won't be giving him heartburn. Presumably he bitch-slaps his wife and kids for making a scene in public
(not shown), and after eating the burrito they all happily board their plane.
But does anyone else see what's wrong with this scene? A grown man has just eaten a spicy burrito, moments before being locked into a confined space
(with recirculating air) with both family and strangers for several hours. Even the Air Marshals won't be able to protect you from that kind of assault.
Tinyhands in mirror may be closer than they appear
They should name a gender after you. Looking at you doesn't do it, staring is the only way that makes sense. And trying not to blink so you don't miss anything. And all of that and you're you. It's just that you are drop dead crazy gorgeous. So much so, that I'm actually considering looking at you again before we finish up here. --Spanglish
I love that scene in the movie so much that I hate it. I hate that somebody else thought it up and wrote it down for everyone else to see. Now, no matter how often I have this
exact thought about your beautiful face, I can't say what I'm thinking. If I do, I'm just an imposter spouting movie quotes. But if I don't, if I don't say it...
In case of contact with skin, flush Tinyhands with water
Always use Tinyhands in a well-ventilated area
It was a better weekend than it had any right to be. By some reckoning my weekend started nearly 3 years ago and continues beyond today, tomorrow, and the next day but I'll stick to the events of what most
normal people consider a weekend.
Friday- Stuff happened, yadda yadda yadda. Well no, I take it back, nothing really happened. The weather was perfect so a buddy and I decided to have mojitos on the patio at a south american grill. Love the plantain chips & chimichurri. Love. I hit the half-price bookstore afterwards but walked out empty-handed. There's
always one or two books I could buy, but I still have 3 unread books on my shelf and one that I'm working on, so I'll be the responsible guy and wait until I'm in need. I took the book I'm currently reading (
When China Ruled The Seas) over to the Houston Garden Center, attempting to sit downwind of the roses and read a little. Too much construction noise from outside the garden drove me out early, but not before getting a little bit of a sunburn.
Saturday- Another beautiful day. I grabbed my camera, my folding stool, and a hat and headed to the near side of downtown for the art car parade. This annual spring event is a parade of motor- and human-powered vehicles painted and otherwise decorated with every imaginable
(and a lot of unimaginable) thing. I took over 200 pictures and tried my darndest to whittle that down to a few that best captured the 'essence' of the parade. There are 52 shots in a new album which you can find by following the link to your right
(my left). Some of the cars made me think of some of you, as I tried to guess which ones you'd like best. Among them a Miata (17), a Beetle covered with knitting (123), a peach (96), a giant rodent (59) and, of course, a cowgirl riding a cock (171).
Sunday- The best and worst day of the weekend. I got to sleep late, which is no big deal since I always sleep late, but it seemed somehow special. I've got a BRIGHT red sunburn due to being a stupid boy who doesn't wear sunscreen while out in the sun for several hours yesterday. It's quite painful, so I need volunteers to help slather my own special
(and edible, ladies!) concoction of aloe vera, whipped bananas, and chocolate Frosty™ over the affected areas. Due to the critical importance of the job, I plan on breaking the volunteers into shifts, allowing them to rest in between.
(Update- Due to the overwhelming response, I am no longer accepting applicants.) Mother's Day usually means bonded servitude to the one from whom I sprang, but with the folks out of town I was granted a reprieve. Other stuff happened, yadda yadda yadda.
(No, not really again)All in all it was a nice relaxing weekend and a nice break from my hectic weekdays.
Do not expose Tinyhands to flame
I'm undecided...
Pro: "As desire recedes, the world becomes clear, pale, and empty." --Mason Cooley
Con: "In the end we love our desire and not what it is that we desire." --Friedrich Nietzsche
I've recently switched my kibble to the weight-control formula. The vet assures me that I'll have more energy and a healthy, shiny coat.
Tomorrow I meet with the lawyers about my case!
Do not leave Tinyhands unattended
It must be the crash after the party, everyone going home and reminiscing about how much fun it was to get together. I don't get to go out
(with others) very often, so it was as much a treat for me as those who got to make an actual vacation out of the weekend, packing a bag, getting on a plane, etc. And I really enjoyed myself, even though I wasn't sure if I would, and I say that not because of the other attendees but my own inclination
(aside: Thesaurus recommended 'penchant' but I can't use that word without thinking of Dr. Evil describing his father having a penchant for buggery.) towards being alone and having no choice but to like it. But after the party, I'm stuck with a song in my head:
♪ People say I'm the life of the party 'cause I tell a joke or two. Although I might be laughin' loud and hearty, deep inside I'm blue. ♪
And of course the best way to get a song out of your head is to give it to someone else, thus firmly implanting it in his or her head. Although you've now taken that burden off my hands
(sucker!) there's still the matter of a frequent comment I received, in person and online: Why am I single? I wish I had a glib, witty
(see also: clever) answer for you, but I don't. I don't want to go into a whole public introspection
thing here, as tempting as it may be. It's something to which I've given a lot of thought over the past few days and I'm far from done. I used to think I had a good answer
(or at least several mediocre answers that added up to one decent one) but I'm not so sure anymore. I've had a few people
(read: angry women) try to tell me why, so if you think you know it's probably best if you keep it to yourself. I've got to figure it out on my own.
♪ = Tracks of My Tears, Smokey Robinson & The Miracles, 1965
Store Tinyhands upright
I hadn't intended on looking at my watch, but 8:15 is my favorite shade of blue.
I saw a woman at lunch friday. I wasn't alone, nor was she, and neither of us had the kind of company that would have made it possible to meet.
(Confession: A convenient excuse) She was seated directly in front of me, but even if she'd been behind me I wouldn't have been able to keep my eyes off of her. I wondered about it later, and will of course continue to wonder, if she'd even noticed the invisible man and if that was the reason that she was playing with her necklace.
I wonder what she's reading, but if I ask, it shatters the illusion that I knew all along.
Check your local listings for Tinyhands
Original love never appears in pure form, but in manifold veils and shapes, such as confidence, humility, reverence, serenity, as faithfulness and modesty, as gratefulness; but primarily as longing and wistful melancholy.-Friedrich Von Schlegel
Addition to the May event calendar: * Thursday, 11 May, 6-8pm "Introduction to Sketching In The Galleries" - Museum of Fine Arts Houston (
www.mfah.org) --
Update: This class is full.
Warning: Keep out of reach of Tinyhands
Tinyhands requests the pleasure of your company
R.S.V.P. by 4pm |
|
A blog without an immigrant
It's rare that I post about current events, but I just thought I'd share with you that I support the immigrants. Especially the crazy-hot
(note: that's hyphenated, not two separate adjectives) ones who come up here from places like Brazil to shoot Victoria's Secret ads and swimsuit calendars, but I don't want to over-generalize. In my opinion, there isn't all that much wrong with the current immigration law. It's the proposed
changes to said laws that are causing all the hoopla. Don't fix it if it ain't broke, right? Terrorists entering the country through Mexico? Hype, hysteria, fear-mongering. Put 12 million illegal aliens in jail? I ain't paying for that! Well, that's my take on the current events.
Both the network and local news ran stories about protests and marches and stuff that happened today. Honestly? I wasn't really paying attention. I glanced at the TV a few times and everybody was speaking spanish, so I'm not
absolutely positive they were protesting the proposed changes in Congress. To tell the truth, I thought I had sat on the remote and changed the channel over to Telemundo. I don't speak spanish, so I'm afraid that if they want my support they're going to have to ask for it in words that I understand. Please note that this does not mean I think everyone must speak english, another current topic of debate. I'm merely saying that if you want me to understand you, it needs to be in english. If you don't care what I think or need my support for an issue, go right ahead and roll your Rs.
(But I love churros in any language.)In other news, there are many possible positive changes taking place in my life at the moment. So as I transition from illness to wellness I'm stretched a little thin in other places right now and I don't want to go into too much detail lest I jinx it as before. I feel confident enough to say that I did, in fact, pass my final final and will graduate. Other details, which you can probably imagine, will have to wait until after the fact.
