What is a DORK?

     When I was leavng this morning to take my son to work I told him a joke.  He chuckled and said back to me,  "Dad, you are such a DORK!"  What is a DORK?  I don't really know.
     How can you be something that you don't really know are the qualifications?  Is it how you dress?  Maybe shorts, sandals and a polo shirt with the buttons unbuttoned qualify me.  I just thought it was just comfortable to dress this way, and I very rarely wear socks.  How about the silver cross I wear around my neck, under the shirt by the way.  Am I a DORK for dressing this way?  I don't know.
    I watch the History Channel, both of them, Travel Channel, Military Channel and of course the big one The Weather Channel.  Don't mess with me in a Trivia Persuit Game, I will run you over.  Little pieces of totally irelevant information clog my brain and are just waiting for the opportunity to leap from the dark recesses of that small brain.  "Its crowded in here!" they scream searching for a way out. Is this a major qualification for DORKhood?  I don't know.
    I talk to strangers on the street whom I have never seen or met before.  What is the harm in striking up a conversation with someone you don't know.  You both have things to share and have different lives that are interesting.  Plus, what harm is it to acknowledge a perfect stranger for that personhood.  How about making that person smile.  What is the harm in that?  Do these people I talk to say after our enjoyable conversations, "There goes a real DORK."  If they do, and I have made someone's day, maybe that is not such a bad thing.
     How about my bad jokes.  I would like to explore this in later posts so I won't even go here now.  One of my upcoming posts will be a collection of my best jokes and puns.  Some of these are real homeruns, some are really bad third pitch swing and miss strikeouts.  But what the heck, I am having a lot of fun and laughing.  You are going to have to decide. 
     Am I a DORK?  you are just going to have to decide for yourself.  Given what I have just written, maybe I am a DORK, and I should wear that label with pride. 

What's This All About Today?

     For those of you who don't write for a living or have never put pen to paper to permanenetly record your thoughts, you probably won't understand what I am about to say. Actually, I shouldn't say that because I know that there are many of you out there who have striven to do just that, put ideas on paper to record for posterity but you loose the paper you have written on.  In my case, you accidentally hit the delete key because you have fat little fingers or some other stupid reason.  Where am I going with this? Oh yes, back to putting ideas on papaer or computer.  Here is what I was about to say before my attention deficit kicked in.  There is nothing worse for a writer than a blank computer screen or piece of paper staring you in the face, and not having the foggiest notion of what you are going to write about.  As I sit here in front of my computer screen, it is hitting me square between the eyes.  I have no clue as to what I am going to write about today.
     I fully understand my responsibilities as a writer.  You, as my followers are expecting to be entertained and perhaps get a hearty chuckle with my writings.  You dutifully log into your computers each day loyally coming to my site.  Of that I thank you, both of you.  I must admit that there are days that the well is dry.  I truly don't mean to let you down, its just that I try to maintain a certain high quality in my writings.  After all, do you want War and Peace and high quality, or do you want Mad Magazine?  My goal is not to dissappoint you.
     Today, I  have nothing to write about.  OK, I have said it.  I admit it and I am not going to ask for your forgiveness.  Michaelangelo didn't paint every day.  Picasso had his wine breaks and Papa Hemmingway went fishing.  I am going to go have a cup of coffee and maybe go out to breakfast. Manana. (Man-yana for those on the East Coast)
 

I haver anb owie

I haver an owie on my fingert.  I amn noty goingh to writewanythigh todayu because I habe a bandaid on my middler fingert and it isd hardf to typer.  Tomorrowe shouldf be bettert.

Play Ball...Or Something

     I really enjoy baseball.  My son and I can be seen in regular attendance at our neaby ballpark in which the Grizzlies, the Triple A affiliate of the SanFrancisco Giants, play.  I love the game, but that is not the fun part of baseball.  Baseball is an experience, three hours of sights and sounds.  It is.
     A couple of nights ago, my son and I went to a game.  I bought tickets on the day of the game, not specially choosing where we sit but in good seats for the game.  There is no way of knowing who is going to sit near you. In a way, that too is the fun of a game.  You get to meet and talk to people you have never met before and probably never see again.  That's the beauty of it all, fun and you can open your mouth and say stupid things and not worry about the embarrassment of it all. You will never see the person that hears the stupid remark again.  I am not talking about anything maliscious or racist.  I am talking about comments that perhaps show a lack of knowledge of the great game or just plain fun and maybe shocking in an unexpected way.
      My son and I recently went to the game, found our seats and sat down.  A few minutes later, the people with the seats behind us came in and sat down.  They were five older couples, by older I meant very late fifties to mid sixties.  They had ten tickets, five in the row behind us and five in the row behind that.  The men sat in a row two rows behind us, and the wives sat in the row behind us.  Very nice people, except the guys were talking baseball and enjoying the game while the wives were discussing other things.  Shopping was on their minds....among other things.  Remember, late fifties to early sixties, got it?
     The sixth inning saw a break in the action, the Grizzlies being out in the field.  One of the ladies behind me stated the question, "Why are their uniform pants so long?"
     "I don't know, but I don't like them."  another of the ladies said.  Remember, late fifties to early sixties, are you still with me?
     "They used to wear those pulled up socks and the pants were tight."  A third lady chimed in.
     "Those pants were really tight, and we got to see some rally tight butts.  I don't like the baggy pants.  I want to see some tight butts!"  The middle lady exclaimed. 
     All five of the ladies were of one accord, tight butts were on their minds.  I'm not sure how to react to that.  I think that I am a bit frightened by that, or perhaps sort of "deer in the headlights" sort of stunned.  I'm going to end my comments here, because I think that I am speechless.  The mental pictures are a bit unnerving to me.  I don't know how to process this.  Maybe I should go and watch a "Yogi Bear" cartoon or a "Tom and Jerry" cartoon. I may have been damaged for the rest of my life.  Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Don't Mess With Me Without My Morning Coffee

I woke up this morning at 2:00 AM (PDT for accuracy) unusually early. The first thing I do is instinctively stumble into our kitchen, fill the coffee maker with water, find the can with the coffee beans in it ( I am a coffee snob and grind my own fresh french roasted whole beans. I am still cheap though because I only go to Starbucks on occasion.). Over to the sink I go to grind my beans, gently carrying the bean can, coffee filter and filter holder. Now, open the can and put three heaping spoons of beans into the grinder. Wait a minute, where's the grinder? You don't understand, WHERE'S THE GRINDER?
This is not a good thing. I am semi-conscious and in a daze and I need my coffee, NOW! Go to McDonald's or Burger King and buy a cup. I'm sorry but I don't drive while sleepwalking or before I have had my coffee. I'm certainly not going to walk the 500 yards (I just put that in, Mc Donald's is actually about a quarter mile away and Starbuck's is about the same distance.). It's very dangerous. Who moved my cheese, I mean coffee grinder?  I don't care about those damn rats, I WANT MY COFFEE!!!!!!
Do you even realize (or realise for those of you English purists who live in Canada or England) what happens when you upset a 57 year old man and his very strict routine in the morning by changing something in his environment, especially since he hasn't had his Welbuterin in a few weeks.(By the way, I like Canada. I just got back from there, but you will have to read my article in West Coast Golfer Magazine for that story.) I certainly am glad that I don't have any guns or C-4 explosives around the house (ONLY KIDDING!). It really does upset your day. At any rate, where is that grinder

Of Music and Body Slams

     Truly, I am not a snob.  I have sampled cavier but also have enjoyed the delights of pickled pigs feet.  Dom Perignon has caressed my lips and flowed luxuriously down my throat, as well as Keystone Light.  I have experienced many of the joyful extremes of life and am happy at both ends.
     My entertainment tastes run in a similar wide spectrum.  They have to.  Why be boring and shave yourself into a hole, the square peg in a round hole.  Must everyone fit into a certain expectation.  I am really angered by those in the entertainment "tall tower" looking down on those in the "Mariana's Trench" of enjoyment. Why must there be a "highbrow" against a "lowbrow" entertainment.  Afterall, isn't the key word in this entertainment?  Isn't life suppossed to be enjoyed and experienced?  How much of our entertainment likes and dislikes are shaped by what we really enjoy, or by what we are expected to enjoy. Do we not shun away from certain forms of entertainment because we feel they are beneath us and would sully (I like that word "sully") our image that we project to our "highbrow" friends.  Sometimes the reverse is true and we hide the fact that we went to the Philharmonic in a tuxedo from our "beer drinkin' bubba" buddies.  Both sides will miss out on a lot of great life simply because of their mindset.  It is such a pity.
    The opera is one of those entertainments that is considered "high brow".  Many people take a look at it and dismiss it as being just for those who have their noses firmly affixed to the sky.  In many ways, I could agree that this would be a fair observation but not always.  My own opinion of opera was that it wasn't for me.  After being close to an opera production and actually performing in one, I must admit that my opinion is changing.  At the risk of alarming some of my "golfin' buddies" I must admit that I enjoyed the experience.  Speaking of golf, I admit that my love for opera is a bit like many golfer's and their sport.  It's great to play golf, but to watch it on TV, it is a little like watching the grass grow, no literal pun intended.  At a rehearsal one night after hearing how the whole performance came together with the orchestra and knowing I was a part of the whole adventure, I had a new enjoyment of the opera.  I don't think that I would pay to sit in the audience or watch an opera on tv, but it was thrilling to be a part of it.
    At the other end of the spectrum, many of those who have their noses in the sky don't pay attention to other wonderful entertainment choices and drive themselves into walls... hard!  I have one word, I think it is one word, WWE (wrestling).  Oh yaaaa.....
     Last week, myself, my son, my son-in-law and my grandson went to see WWE Raw Wrestling.  OK, I admit it and it will make my Bubba friends proud.  I know that they were worrried about this one, and thought I had gone over to the dark side when I told them I was performing in an opera.  I enjoy wrestling in person.  I don't watch it on TV [I do watch golf on TV].  It is truly an art form, with the wrestlers probably some of the best athletes and actors there are.  The stories that are told with the rivalries between the different wrestlers is truly Shakespearean.  That may not be the best word but you get my point, and I think I scared my Bubba friends again letting them know I know about Shakespear.
     By the way, that was some Aria and did you see that bodyslam...what a move!         

Get Back To Work!

     Well, OK now  I'm back.  I guess its time to start working again.  Actually, that's kind of an oxymoron because I am retired.  By definition, does a retired person work?  I don't know.  That question just came to me and I don't have an answer.
     The proceedure was a success.  I came out of it feeling OK and was released the day after the surgery.  There was very little pain and I really didn't have to use the morphine drip.  I did use it to sleep though and it was welcomed.  I was a bit bothered by the shots in the side of hemparin, a blood thinner and the blood draw to test my blood.  The morphine did not make me "high"  but I did notice that my pain tolerance went way up.  Before surgery, I felt the first injection of hemparin that they gave me by direct injection in my side.  They gave me four more and with each succeeding injection I felt it less and less, not even feeling the last one.  I didn't feel the blood draw at all.  So much for the morphine and boy did I sleep well. 
     At the hospital, they took me in and prepped me for surgery.  I was rolled into the surgery room, the proceedure was done and the next thing I knew I woke up in the recovery room.  One thing bothered me though.  I noticed out of the corner of my mind a guy in this strange outfit.  I could not see his face but he was dressed in this very loosely fitting black robe.  In his hand was this large black scythe.  He turned toward me and I could hear him say, "Nah."  I don't know what that meant.
     I am at home now recovering.  Today is the first day that I really felt good.  I go see the doctor tomorrow to get yelled at for what I should be doing and am not doing.  Wish me luck.  I have one burning question that is knawing at my inner thoughts.  When do I get back to Jocko's for that 19 ounce fillet, I am sick of this liquid diet.

Operation

    Today is the big day.  I know that there have been many big days this past few days, but this is a big one.  I go into the hospital today for my surgery.  Don't worry, I will be fine.  Its not that major.  One thing I will say though is that the procedure is going to be done laproscopically.  Most of you who know me have said many times that I am full of hot air.  Guess what, today I truly will be full of hot air.  Wish me luck, or as they say in the opera world, toi, toi, toi.   

oops !!!

    OOPS!! My finger hit the post button by mistake.  I really had something humorous to say that would give you some great laughs.  Forgive me, I don't have time right now because I have to go to, what else, opera rehearsal.  I promise to continue my thought from today.  I actually have it written down in my notes for tomorrow.  Really, it is right there in my calendar.  I won't forget.
     Now, what was it I was going to say?  Oh yes, I forgot.  Talk to you tomorrow. 

Que fragar, chi chungue.

     I went to see Cowboys and Aliens with my son last night.  I must say that he and I have totally agreed that Olivia Wilde is  hot but that's another story.  As you know, I have retired and am trying out new experiences.  Some of these experienctial choices are hits and some are really huge disasters.  Where my participation in the opera performance of Lucia fits in I don't know yet.  I will share that I know how the cowboys felt dealing with the aliens.  The opera scene is a world that I do not recognize.  This ain't Kansas Toto.