Truisms Or Dare

Kindness is the language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see.

-Mark Twain

This is a little piece that I will call a "transition story arc." Mike, the editor, will call it a rant. The saving grace, in my mind, is that I often couldn't care less what Mike thinks. So, it evens out.

Our friends at Webster's online define truism as:

Adjective: an undoubted or self-evident truth; especially: one too obvious for mention

　
Note to our fun-loving college kids who are perfectly happy with being "C" students: 

When doing research papers after 17-thousand shots of Jameson, you'll be happy to know that the brain trust at Wikipedia label Truism as a NOUN. 

I suppose I shall name my next pet "Truism" and then do a shot. Feels like college all over again!

　
I know a gentleman who uttered something that truly offended today.  In the interest of protecting his identity, we will call him Steve...primarily because his real name is Stephen.  Granted, it's quite hard to offend me but Stephen, I mean, Steve did.

　
An important scad of background on this guy includes the following:
　

1. He's a genuinely kind individual
2. He's been through a volatile relationship, which is on the mend
3. The relationship turned south due to his significant other abusing alcohol
4. He's a homosexual

He, I and two other mutual friends were sitting in front of a restaurant where they work, waiting to go on a quick grocery store outing, when he dispersed several epithets toward a young woman with whom he works.  Granted, SHE couldn't hear his foolish words from the car, but he needlessly uttered them anyway.

　
By all accounts, these two get along at work, they work well together and there's zero animosity between them. She's also well liked around the neighborhood and seems to be a kind soul.  Steve just felt it appropriate to repeatedly call her "fatty" behind her back.

　
I've written a great deal of inappropriate humor, sometimes at the expense of others. But my regular readers know that I NEVER poke fun at Hispanics, they seem to be able to handle that all on their own. If you don't believe me, visit a Latino bar sometime. Plus, I'm having new sheet rock hung next week and I don't want to piss them off.

　
I also don't tell "fatty" jokes...primarily because there's not enough room on a typical laptop screen. And I don't poke fun at or perpetuate stereotypes toward young African American men...because I don't want to get shot and/or carjacked.

　
Aaahh HA! See where I'm going with this? I'm not a bleeding heart left-winger, primarily because I don't want to anger Sean Hannity. I DO, however, judge those who arbitrarily judge books and covers. I've read lots of books and peeked past many covers. If you don't make this a regular life routine, try it sometime...you might be pleasantly surprised.

　
With all silliness aside, I wondered how in the world that a 50-year old gay man, who grew up in a society steeped in judgemental attitudes toward HIS lifestyle could possibly lob such comments toward a person who I know to be a hard working, sweet and caring individual.

　
So, I called on my good friend, and Pontchartrain Press' chief story research manager, Eric for some background studies on hurtful words and their implications upon society.

　
Eric does good work but, sometimes when sending his findings back to me, goes off in unrelated directions. I eventually tend to get the info I need...and some info that is, decidedly, not needed.

　
Jim: I'm doing a quick piece on a 50-year old gay man who works with a very nice young woman. Not realizing that I am also friends with her, he repeatedly called her "fatty" behind her back. I waited to call him out when we were one on one, but I want to write about this. Any research you can find that would help the story along would be great!

Eric: Is this one of those SAT math word problems? 

Jim: Can you please do some research before I book a flight to Philly and kill you?

　
Eric: There was a study a few years ago about the MOST offensive words in the English language.

　
As it turns out, the top four (in order from most to least) were:

　
Fat
Nigg*r
Nazi
Cu*t

Jim: Thanks for your help. See ya' soon

　
Eric: I was surprised that F*ck wasn't on the list but even MORE shocked that FAT was number one!

Think about this...every girl thinks she's fat...even if she isn't. Call a girl fat and she'll stab you in the balls.

At any rate, it explains why my old band, "The Fat Nigg*r Nazi Cun*s" never made it big.

　
Jim: Interesting. I'm gonna get back to writing. Thanks again for the research.

　

Eric: Unrelated, but I f*cked two girls named Ginger this week. They may not have souls, but they got PLENTY of DNA.

　
Jim: Are you clinically insane?

　
Eric: Perhaps. The one Ginger was a blast. She liked to be abused and verbally degraded. I let off 20-years of pent up aggression on her and she has been begging for more ever since. She's such a filthy whore...and she's not fat. I think I'm in love.

　
Well, I can always count on Eric to provide more than enough background research on a story. Plus, our communications remind me precisely why I do not accept dating advice from him.

　
So as not to cast a stone from my own glass house, yes, I have slung unfair, judgemental commentary toward and about others...and I feel absolutely horrible about it...with the exception of everything I've said or written about the band Nickelback. Simply dreadful music.

　
People will always make fun of, ridicule and degrade other people...as a society, they always have and, likely, always will. Just watch an episode of The Voice or Chef Gordon Ramsay.

　
As for myself, I'm having a nice dinner with the young woman in question right now while looking across the table, keeping a hurtful secret about her co-worker. I'm also, oddly, wondering what having crazy sexual escapades with TWO Gingers in one week must feel like...but I'm not about to text Eric again for the answer.

　
With that said...I like to lob more educated insults toward those who deserve it:

　
Webster's Online Dictionary

dick; (dik) noun; Slang for detective

Adjective: derogatory term for penis

Noun; Shortened name for Richard

Noun; Glen Beck,  Bill O'Reilly, Jim's boss, Al Gore

Real world: a label for a narrow minded asshole who should be ashamed of himself. (that one came from the Jim Patrick dictionary)

copyright Pontchartrain Press 2013

Pulling The Wings Off Of (OK) Cupid

...or, there's a reason it's just "okay"

 

     One of my close friends, Marie, who also happens to be a senior writer at Pontchartrain Press, recently had a little too much time on her hands. She, typically, has free time because she's constantly beating her deadlines in order to kiss Mike, the editor's, ass.  At least that's what I suspect.  

So,She decided to pass some time by engaging in a little small-talk with a young man on a popular dating website.  And now...Here's Marie's attempt at dating: 

 

While I never visit these sites, occasionally, I do get e-mail notifications from OKCupid telling me that "someone has checked me out" Translation: visited my profile or that the site has new matches for me.**

**new members that seem to fit some criteria that makes them a recommended date.  In my case, probably a serial killer and/or suicidal.

Today, the subject line was "Someone has chosen you!"

The text of the e-mail had a picture, screen name (SkinnyPaleGuy), and the following insight:

"He's totally into you! Go send him a message. You got this email because he rated you 4 or 5 stars."

 
 

How was I to resist?

 

I went to his profile, where I learned that:

 

•  He doesn't use capitalization
• Is admittedly shallow
• And, likes using uncomfortable truths to make people squirm

 

His profile also indicated that he "replies often" to e-mails and was only interested in women.  Unless you're a guy that looks like Chris Corner of Sneaker Pimps...then we can definitely talk".

 

He also included a mirror self-pic of his bare chest and stomach with the caption:

 

"i admit the torso pic is pretty douchey, but you have to be a little bit of a douche to use a dating site in the first place so whatever. i'm not above it. i'm not really above much of anything, for that matter. i'm a shameless human being".

 

HOW could I possibly resist having some fun with this guy after reading his tag line??

 

Marie- I am writing to test your "replies often" status. And also, because the site told me too.  Plus, I'm just a sheep that does whatever the Internet tells me to do.

 

Oh, and because the site tells me that you rated me "4 or 5" stars. I didn't realize that my profile could be graded like a restaurant review; so now I have to know: was it 4 or 5? And why is this site so vague about it? I mean it was EITHER 4 or 5. Why not tell me which?

 

For the record, I am sending this message before looking at the torso pic that you mention in your profile. I'm putting off viewing your, admitted, douchery until I see if you really DO "reply often".

 

SkinnyPaleGuy- yes, i really do reply often! i'll admit, sometimes i'm tempted to ignore a few messages just so i can get one of those snobby elitist "very selectively" tags. i bet there are actually women out there who won't date a guy if he doesn't have one of those. like, she thinks "i'm not dating a guy who 'replies often'" ya know? but i just can't bring myself to ignore someone

 

as for the rating, i gave you five stars. what i do is, i just go to the "quickmatch" thingy and just keep hitting five stars over and over again without even looking at the pictures or reading anything. it's like casting out a huge dragnet of mass-market dating!

 

it's actually a pretty effective strategy. i've been fucking like three or four women per day on average

 

i bet you wonder if i'm kidding or serious lol

 

Marie- Hehehehehe....no, I feel very confident that you're kidding. If it were true, you wouldn't have time to "reply often".

 

SkinnyPaleGuy - well, your confidence is misplaced because i am totally serious lmfao!

 

and yes, time is my number one enemy. there never seems to be enough of it (or enough condoms)

 

so... wanna have sex?

 

Marie - In general, or do you mean with you, specifically?

 

SkinnyPaleGuy - lmfao! perfect response :D

 

i like you

 

Marie - Thanks. And thanks for pulling your dick out of someone long enough to provide a timely response to an email.

 

And, for the record, I have a post-slutty-phase philosophy to which I strictly adhere. I don't sleep with anyone I don't like, or who doesn't like me...Or who doesn't respond to emails in a timely fashion. So things are looking good for you.

 

I'm not trying to be coy or hard-to-get...because I am neither of those things. I'm just old and wise. Oh, and I have a very complicated schedule, one which requires thoughtful planning and may interfere with you fucking all of the women, or that one guy from that band you mentioned.

 

SkinnyPaleGuy - no pulling out was necessary. this is my "down time," hence why i'm on okcupid in the first place

 

i can work around a complicated schedule because there is no schedule more complicated than my own

 

i must warn you, my penis is habit forming

 

Marie - Yes, but your personality may be the first step in breaking the addiction. (See how I worked a "dick" reference in there? I'm good with the words if you notice)

 

SkinnyPaleGuy - what are you talking about? my personality is pure, distilled awesome sauce! i realize now that i should've ignored your message to earn my "very selectively" tag

 

now go check out my torso pic and see what you cheated yourself out of by being a mean jerk 

 

Realizing that this was a lost cause, while sincerely not wanting to be seen as "mean jerk", I made an attempt to apologize; An attempt that soon went south because sometimes there's just no stopping me once I start sinking.  This is something that my therapist calls:  "Self Destructive."  Whatever THAT means.

Marie - I've been known to be a bit TOO snarky in my attempts at witty repartee. Please don't take it personally. I'm sure that you have a lovely penis. Probably the BEST penis of all time.

The "More addictive than heroin, gonna have to get on methadone, someone-pull me out of the crack-gutter cause' I'm hooked on his jock most habit forming penis of all time.

Whew!!  Seriously. Congratulations on the nice genitals.


And there you have it.  My adventure in online dating and, apparently, the reason why I fail so miserably at it.

Post Script from Jim:  BRAVO Marie!  This is why you are so valued as a friend, a writer AND a woman with large breasts on the staff.  He should have seen YOUR torso pic.  His loss. 

Copyright Pontchartrain Press, 2013

On My Way (Back) To The Forums

It's been a long while since I've rolled up my sleeves and trolled the treasure trove of forums and chat rooms that Al Gore's® Internet invention has to offer; I actually forgot how addictive web surfing can be.

For instance, recently I found myself enjoying an iced tea (pronounced: Jameson and self regret) with a couple of buddies and the topic of conversation turned to the following:

"How old is Kenny Rogers?"

I'm not sure, exactly, how or why Kenny Rogers came up in conversation between me and the guys but I feel that it's a clear indication that I need to find new and more exciting friends.

When I returned home later that evening, I pulled out the laptop and visited the most reliable research engine on the Internet (Wikipedia) in order to confirm Kenny's age.

The Internet is a lot like Walmart, in that there's no such thing as a "quick visit" and there's usually a pedophile or two lurking somewhere. 

Upon learning more than I needed to know about "The Gambler", one click led to another until I eventually found myself online for approximately 6-hours.  My, seemingly, simple web session transported me to fascinating places...such as:


The Internet Movie Database
Home Depot

E-How: "How to convince your ex-girlfriend that you're NOT an asshole"
Genealogy.com
E-Lyrics: Keith Urban "You'll Think Of Me"
Profiles of notorious mass murderers in the United States
Paula Deen's Chicken & Wild Rice made simple
How to not be an ass-hat
Facebook (stalking)
Match.com
E-How "How to convince your ex-girlfriend to have sex with you"

and, finally, a porn site titled:

"Indiana Bones And The Temple Of Bootie"

By the way, Kenny Rogers is 122 years-old. His face is only fourteen.

After an endless web surfing session, I felt that it might be time to continue with a long overdue project that I documented a couple of years ago. The piece was titled:

                                                 "On My Way To The Forums"

http://pontchartrainpress.blogspot.com/2010/08/on-my-way-to-forums.html

So, once again, I've spent the past seven weeks getting to know many wonderful people around the planet via forums, boards, chat rooms and social sites.

First up...

Ferret Lovers.com

I have absolutely NO problem with owning a rodent and I have a larger appreciation for those who inherit these lovable creatures after their 12-year old child becomes so bored, apathetic and lazy to the point where the kid nearly starves these defenseless creatures to death.

If you ask me, ferret lovers are TRUE humanitarians and it's high time that they receive the respect they deserve. After all, ferrets ARE one of God's creatures, otherwise Noah wouldn't have placed two of them on the ark. Here's my entry into the (short lived) world of ferret chat:

Slimshady: Anyone know of a good recipe for grilled ferret?  I have some snow peas and water chestnut to go with it...I need to use the veggies before the expiration date.

Angel: WTF?

Slimshady: Since you asked, he's right here with me.

Angel: I didn't ASK anything dick...other than WTF???

Slimshady: No need for unpleasantness.  You wrote: WTF..."Where's The Ferret?"

Angel: That's not wat I meant, and you know it.  I'm not sure if you know much about our community but much of wat we promote ctrs round rescuing abandoned and unwanted ferrets and we're sanctioned by the SPCA.

Slimshady: You do love abbreviations don't U?  Or, RU missing keys on your keyboard.  I am...but that's a long story which primarily centers around an urgent situation where I had to drop my computer bag from a balcony ledge.  It was a fun evening though. 

Angel: You probably don't even KNOW what SPCA stands for...jerk.

Slimshady:  I know what SPCA, GMAC, FreddieMac, ACLU, GDP. SDI, STD and DMV stand for...pretty impressive huh?  (Well, except for STD.)  I didn't know what DP stood for until my friend, Darrell, explained it to me.  He likes to watch a lot of pornographic videos.  BTW, earlier, you misspelled "what." WTF?

Angel: You are ignorrant. We're trying to serve a humane cause by giving homes to thousands of abandoned and unwanted ferrets. Do you know why????

Slimshady: Because they were initially an "impulse purchase" at Pet Smart?  BTW, you misspelled ignorant.

Angel: You must have a lot of time on your hands!

Slimshady: Given my current relationship status, yes. The ferret actually belonged to my girlfriend and she offered to move it to her sister's house because I have a cat and a dog..I also accidentally stepped on it one evening after staying out all night with my buddies. 

 

I actually just wanted my girlfriend to move out now that I think about it. BTW, I noticed that there's an icon on your site titled "Modern Ferret." Does your ferret use the Internet or play X-box? If so, I'd love to chat with him/her sometime.  How can you tell a male from a female ferret anyway? 

Angel: I'm done with this convo.

Slimshady: OK. Nice chattin' with you Angel. I'd love to come by and meet you sometime and maybe we can enjoy a test tube of water and five or six Cheerios with the little guy. 

I'd also love to learn  some tips as to how to remove the putrid smell that ferrets emit in the house. If there's time for a sexual encounter, that'd be great also...between me and you, NOT the ferret.  LOL.  Anyhoo...Take care. TTYL.

Next up, I decided to get to the bottom of the trials and woes facing seniors by educating myself via the AARP website.

Jim: I'm soooo sick of dog food. Any ideas?

Moderator: Are you serious? Do you need assistance through a local outreach facility?  I noticed that your profile indicates that you live in New Orleans.  We work closely with a Catholic Charities facility in your community.

Jim: No, I'm afraid of Catholics.  Actually, I'm really afraid of the Pope.  
 

 

I live in an assisted living apartment complex, so I have shelter...I'm simply not able to stretch my social security through the month so I run a little short on or about the 20th of each month, so I eat dog food. 

Moderator: Goodness! We have outreach availability through our membership program if you need it.

Jim: Is it covered via Obama Care? Because according to the Tea Party and Fox News, it's not.  I have limited government funds since I'm not Canadian, a U.S. politician or a Cuban refugee. How much is membership?

Moderator: $16.00 and it covers spouses too.

 

Jim: Whoa!  $16.00 would buy a lot of dog food at the Save a Center!

Moderator: It covers you AND your spouse...and there are numerous programs that can help with food and housing needs.

Jim: Thankfully, my wife is dead. She was such a bitch...I also suspect that she slept with Mike Ford back in 1973...he was our next door neighbor...he's dead now.  

The wife and I stayed together for the kids sake...and for the incredible sex, until she turned 49. That's around the time when I began "staying at the office late" working on "projects" with my secretary.

Moderator: Hmm. Out of curiosity, how old are the kids?

Jim: 58 and 66. They're absolutely adorable!

Moderator: I see. And how did your wife die?

Jim: She "fell" from a 4-story balcony one night while I was trying to watch the new Hawaii Five-O program on the CBS television network. 

Moderator: I think it's time for you to move along Jim.

Jim: Yeah, that's what my kids tell me after Sarah died. Sarah was my secretary.

Moderator: No...I mean to another website.

Jim: Ok.

I'm always on the prowl for the next BIG business opportunity. If I could find one which allows me to watch ESPN all day, WHILE I earn a living, I'd be in HEAVEN! 

After stumbling upon an advertisement for Career Builders.com and their professional online counselling program, I figured it to be a potentially enlightening prospect to confirm my top career options.  After all, we all want to make sure that we're chasing the "best suited" employment path.

　

Steve: I'm Stephen and I'm here to guide and help you today. We match the right talent with the right opportunity and do so more often than any other site.

Weezer69: Thank you Stephen.  Is your name pronounced Steph-aahn (short "A"), or Steeeven)?

Steve: Long "E."  How may I assist you with your path to the future today? 

Weezer69: Are you a computer? Judging by the way that you write, you sound a little rigid. Are you having a rough day or do you just feel a little backed up in the doo doo department? 

BTW, my name, Weezer, is pronounced with a long "E."  It's looooong...at least that's what SHE says.  LOL!

Steve: I'm going to have to insist that we keep the chat engine application professional.  I'm a real person...I assure you. How can we begin building a gateway to your future today?

Weezer69: Steeeeeeve...first of all...you are NEVER going to get laid if you speak the way you write. Not that I get laid either, but I don't get laid for numerous reasons.  Neither I, nor my therapist, can explain how this came to be my lot in adult life. 

I suspect that my ex-girlfriend, likely, has a few ideas on the subject...none of which still make any sense to me.

Steve: Did you need legitimate assistance with our site or counselling resources today?

Weezer69: Actually, yes. I'm completely satisfied with my career and the company but I absolutely HATE my manager. 

Hate is a really strong and unprofessional word now that I think about it...let's change that to abhor. 

Fact of the matter is that I really wish that the company owner would wise up and fire, I mean, terminate, him...or simply explain to me why he makes 5-times more than I for doing nothing but screw around on Twitter all day long and engage in intercourse with several of our interns.  He even has a company GAS CARD!

Steve: I'm not sure that our site can assist, unless you're looking for another place of employment or a career change.

Weezer69: No...I don't want a new place of employment at all...I haven't had to purchase green tea, toilet paper or salt and pepper in years...thanks to our employee break room.  Plus, there are sooooo many hot girls who work here, one of which just lost her children to Child Protective Services in a nasty divorce proceeding.  You know what that means?  She has the apartment ALL to herself!. Sure, she might be an unfit mom or a total nut job, but there are certain acceptable flaws that I'm able to live with.  In manager lingo, that's the old baggage not outweighing the benefits rule Steve.   

What I need advice from you for pertains to an entirely different area. I want to know how that one might be able to kill their manager and get away with it...kind of like O.J.  Only not with a knife and a small glove...I gag at the sight of blood.  And, I don't own a pair of gloves.

There MUST be some sort of pill available to the public that might make it appear as though he had a heart attack or something...sort of like the stuff that the CIA uses on foreign despots that we simply wish to "go away" after we're finished aiding their own warfare efforts with a mutual enemy...unless you ask George W. Bush.

System Admin: account suspended pending review

Steve seemed like a nice guy,  but I'm somewhat irritated that he called the "System Admin" police out on me.

One of my fondest childhood memories centers around the motion picture release of Star Wars.  My father took me to see it on opening night and that evening will forever hold a special place in my heart. 

With that, I decided to surf over to one of the (too many) Star Wars chatrooms where I made a few new friends.  I adopted the name of Jabba The Hut's little pet, Salacious Crumb.

When these Star wars guys aren't talking all things Star Wars, I'm sure they're doing important things, such as raising a family, constructing a home made light saber or fantasizing about Princess Leia chained to a fat, menacing blob in her sexy slave outfit. 

Salacious Crumb wrote: Does anyone else feel a little let down by the fact that Carrie Fisher looks like a bloated saddle bag and sounds as though she's smoked 800-million packs of cigarettes?

Boba Fett47: She's still hot to me.

Salacious Crumb wrote: Gross. 

Boba Fett47: What's gross about it??

Salacious Crumb wrote: I would rather see Skywalker's Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen engaged in a full-blown "69" position over seeing Carrie Fisher naked today!  Of course Luke's family is dead now...with the exception of Leia.  How creepy is it that George Lucas wrote a scene that nearly brought about incest between Luke and Leia???  I'll bet that he was molested at a young age.

Anyway, I'd rather see the emperor naked in a 3-way with auntie and uncle.  I actually cried when I first viewed that scene of their charred remains.

Boba Fett47: Seriously?

Salacious Crumb wrote: Yup.  It reminded me of my own deceased aunt and uncle.  Only they didn't burn to death at the hands of the evil Empire (not Clear Channel Radio) in order to quench Lord Vader's quest for galactic control.  They burned to death because of a lit cigarette in bed.

Jabba Wabba: LOL!  That's effed up dude.

Salacious Crumb wrote: Which part?  Hey...did anyone else in this room ever wonder why Chewbacca's penis wasn't visible?  I mean, you can plainly see the package on all other animals...even those little yappy fur ball dogs, which are typically owned by a high-maintenance girlfriend who likes to shop and yell at you all the time.

Force-Full: You cant see his dick because of the fur.

Salacious Crumb wrote: I'm, oddly, aroused now.  Most importantly, I cant even believe that you actually KNOW why Chewie's penis isn't on display!  Have you EVER had sex?  Hookers don't count.

Boba Fett47: LOL! 

Salacious Crumb wrote: Now that I think about it, I'm a little disturbed that there are, apparently, 46 other Boba Fetts on this board Boba47.

Aretoooo-Deeeetoooo:  Aunt Beru was hot!

Salacious Crumb wrote: These are not the droids you're looking for.


Leave it to the geeks, living in a basement somewhere in a fly-over state, to NOT toss me off the chatroom.  Let that be a lesson to you before making fun of a geek.  They, obviously, have mediocre judgement in character...and for that, I applaud them.

Although I spent my childhood summers in the country, I've lived in the inner city for a better portion of my life.  As opposed to farm girls, inner city girls don't seem to understand simple things...Such as how to milk a cow, gather eggs, not be psychotic, not to have sex with your room mate, etc.

I felt it to be an excellent idea that I return to the roots of yesteryear in the dating department with the assistance of Farmers Mingle.com.** 

**Not the actual website name.  It seems that the farmers "web massah" don't have no sense of humor...and Pontchartrain Press cant afford a lawsuit right now. 

I found a lovely young farm girl who I feel is the perfect match for me.  Yee-Haw!

Mr. GreenJeans:  Greetings!  My real name is Jim, but I thought Green Jeans was a cool name since I always wondered if he was a REAL farmer when I watched Capt. Kangaroo as a kid.  Judging by his demeanor, I suspect that he grew marijuana...given the era and all.

Anyway, I'm 5' 11'' blonde hair, blue eyes and I weigh 160lbs.  Although, I've put on a little weight lately since I've been making poor life decisions.

Kassie: LOL!  What kind of life decisions?

Mr. GreenJeans: A new Taco Bell opened down the street from my house.  It's the first one in Orleans Parish since Hurricane Katrina, which I think serves as a true testament that this city is SERIOUS about rebuilding!

Kassie: You're funny.  So, have you ever farmed or lived on a farm?

Mr. GreenJeans: I have indeed. 

Kassie:  What did you do on the farm?

Mr. GreenJeans: As I recall, I cried a lot because my parents dumped me there each summer for three months.  Other than that, I split a lot of logs and baled hay with my uncle and his farm-hand, Mr. Billy.  That is, until Mr. Billy touched me in an area that my mother described to the authorities as "inappropriate." 

Which is funny, because when my first real girlfriend, Andrea Pearson, touched me there, it was nothing short of spectacular.

BTW...When I say "short" I don't mean "IT" if you know what I mean.

Kassie: So, why did you and Andrea break up?

Mr. GreenJeans: She was, tragically, killed in a car accident.  Her dad drank a lot and he ran over a mule and buggy...they lived near an Amish farm.

Kassie:  Well, Mr. GJ, it's been nice chatting with ya.' If you're ever near Western Kentucky, stop by for a visit.

Mr. GreenJeans: I can be there by 9am tomorrow.

Kassie:  Um, seriously? 

Mr. GreenJeans: Yeah, I don't see any need to waste time.  I'm a good judge of character just by talking with someone. I can already tell that YOU are the person I want to spend the rest of my life with.

Mr. GreenJeans: ????

Kassie: Member has logged off

So much for blue skies and fresh air.  Sigh.

I finished my session with the fine folks at a Turrets Syndrome support group.  Please forgive me for, what I will call, a bit of gratuitous nonsense.

Community Member Jim: FUCK MY BALL SACK!

Admin: User Account Suspended

You got to know when to fold em'

copyright Pontchartrain Press, 2013

 

Author's Note: This is a piece which is presented as a belated birthday gift to a talented comedy mind, Eric frrom Philly.  It also represents two important aspects which comprise my character...I hold total disregard where dates and time are concerned, and I'm a cheap bastard.

Ya' Baby Momma

All women become like their mothers. That is their tragedy. No man does. That's his.

                                                -Oscar Wilde

 

 

While guys, typically, become one with their fathers, and girls to their mother, there remains an inexplicably silent and special bond between mother and son.  If you require proof, ask Oedipus.

I knew at an early age that my mom was more than a sympathetic ear during difficult situations and much more than an ombudsman by keeping my foolish antics from my father so that I wouldn't be beaten within an inch of my life.

My mom also served as protectorate general of the houshold when dad was away, as evidenced by her almost shooting me with a 12-guage shotgun when I tried to slip back in at 3am after leaving an overnight sleepover at a friend's house.

As I recall, I even immortalized her heroic actions in a hand written Mother's Day card that my 6th grade teacher assigned as a classroom activity that year. It read:

"Dear Mom,

Thanks for your love and support and for not shooting and killing me in the foyer two months ago.

Love,

Jim

This is the precise moment in time when I KNEW that I had been blessed with the gift of effective writing skills because two social workers took particular interest in this card.

My mom was special indeed. She always encouraged me to chase my dreams, she taught me how to cook, she bailed me and my friends, Raul and Keith, out of jail when we thought it to be a good idea to Xerox our bare asses on a grocery store copy machine at age 18 at 2 o' clock in the morning. (I'm sure that she never shared THOSE pictures with her lady friends at the tea party).

Recently, my writer friend, Marie, asked if I might take some bullet-point notes from her and construct a special Mother's Day message that she planned on including in a gift basket for her mom.

Since Marie works closely with me and knows me well, I was absolutely shocked that she asked me to write such a special note, but, because she is a friend, I felt that I was equal to the task.

Here are the bullet-points, as dictated by Marie:

• Wherever you are, you're in my heart
• We've had our differences
• I know you had hopes and dreams for me
• I remember sitting on your lap when you read to me
• You cared for me when I got hurt
• You were there for me on my first day of school
• My first prom
• Graduating college
• My first real job

With bullet-points in hand, and personal knowledge of Marie and her life (outside the confines of her bullet-points) I quietly sat at a pub with computer in tow. I gazed out the window on a peaceful afternoon and crafted a letter that I felt appropriate for her to submit to mom on her special day.

Dear mom,

Wherever you are this Mother' Day, I hope you know that you're in my heart. That I don't know where you are makes me less of a person than my older sister...I want you to know that I'm still trying really hard to live up to failed expectations.

　
I know that we've had our differences over the years, but you've been there for me from the beginning...even though my brother regularly informed me that I was an accident, borne from an evening of indiscretion after a Whitesnake concert, you were STILL there for me!

When I was born and you looked down into my baby blue eyes, marveling at the miracle that is new life; I'm sure you had hopes and dreams for me, as any mother would. Have I lived up to them? I've certainly tried and my therapist tells me that this is an important step.

As you sat me on your lap and read to me, did you daydream about all the places I would go? Even though my brother, William, and my sister, Kristen, studied abroad and now live in West Los Angeles and Paris, France, respectively, I have been to some fantastic places throughout the Mid and Deep south. (By the way, I've enclosed a personalized airbrushed t-shirt that I purchased in Destin, Florida...I hope it's the correct size).

　
I know you wanted the best for me and I couldn't ask for anything more. With the exception that I wish that you and dad would have taken me seriously about Uncle Robert when I came to you.

When I fell and scraped my knees and elbows, you wiped away my tears...as Dad and William called me a pathetic p*ssy. I hope you didn't blame yourself when I got hurt. I blame dad. My therapist calls this transferrence and I'm working really hard on it.

What was it like when you sent me off to preschool? And what about the first day you dropped me off at kindergarten? Did you tear up as you sat in the car, thinking about how quickly the years (which included numerous school-yard beatings and an inappropriate moment between me and Ms. Campbell, the gym teacher) had passed? Or did you worry about whether I would make friends and/or become a lesbian?

I made friends, mom, but no one could take the place of you...even though dad feels differently on the matter.

Were you proud at the parent-teacher conference when I had straight A's? My teachers said you were; my classmates called me an ass-kisser, but that NEVER deterred me from pushing upward.

When I went to sleepovers at friends' houses, were you worried that I would get into trouble? I promise I never did, because, thanks to my friend, Angel Harbsmier, I used condoms. I didn't want to let you down. (By the way, Angel is back in the battered women's shelter...so sad.)

Did it break your heart to see me cry when I was hurting? Thank you for letting me crawl into your lap and for chastising William and dad for calling me a pathetic P*ssy. Thank you so much for telling me that everything would be, relatively, OK.

You were, somewhat, right.

When I found the dress for my first dance, was it magical for you like it was for me? Did you marvel at how quickly I was growing up? I know that my date, Chad Griffith, certainly did. But, that's a long story.

When I graduated from high school, did you wonder where the time had gone? In retrospect, I now fully appreciate that you and dad pushed me out of the house and changed the locks.

Did I resemble the kind of person you had hoped to raise? I hope I did, no matter what my brother, Billy, says. You know why?  Because he's a dick!!  Ooops...that's the transference thing again.

Were you excited for me when I called you to tell you about my new job? Was it everything you had hoped for me? I think it was. Where else can you make $1,000 per night?  Those were the most exciting moments of my life.

Did it make you proud to see me walking across the stage in my dark blue robe, and to hear my name called out in front of thousands of people as I graduated from college? I did it for you...even though it took eight and a half years, I'm glad that I stuck with the Art History degree.

When I have a daughter of my own one day, I will likely pull a Susan Smith and kill her...but, in case I don't, what will I want for her? Will the world be enough? Was it enough for you? According to dad, it wasn't. I visited with him at the apartment where he stays above that grocery store the other day..but I don't want to bum you out.

To you, then, mom, on Mother's Day. Thank you and I love you...even if dad doesn't.

Love, always,

Marie

Marie didn't think much of my scribbles but she thanked me for my time anyway, and I asked if I might be able to see her naked.  She politely declined.

On this special day for mothers everywhere...including my own, who is no longer with us, I wish you a happy day.  Please know that you hold a special place and the debt that is owed to you can never be fully repaid (especially the tuition loans).  What we CAN, and must, offer is to never, ever, miss an opportunity to utter three simple words...

I love you.

Sincerely,

James Patrick

copyright Pontchartrain Press, 2013

Author's Note: This piece is dedicated to one of the hardest working moms in the biz...Michelle.

My Birthday And Other Calendar Flaws

A substantial amount of time has passed since I last contributed a writing to the fine folks at Pontchartrain Press. 

I've been doing important things over the previous few months, such as devaluing the journalistic integrity of a New Orleans magazine via a few of my articles. 

Actually, I blew off all writing deadlines and pretty much everything else upon learning that the Mayans had, somehow, developed a calendar with an expiration date- thus bringing about the end of the world.

Upon receiving this alarming news, I immediately did what any logical person would do...I finally proposed a sexual encounter with my next door neighbor and robbed a grocery store.

Now that I think about it, the Mayans were a relatively advanced civilization whose people demonstrated brilliant innovations in applied math and writing techniques; they created topless beaches in Cancun AND the bottomless margarita. 

Constructing an incomplete calendar will forever cast a dark shadow over these impressive accomplishments as far as I'm concerned.

This lax work ethic should also serve as a stark reminder for those who consider hiring Hispanic "Day-workers" in front of the neighborhood Home Depot.

Example: The Mayans constructed pyramids (and my neighbor's house) which are referred to as "Ruins", while Egypt's pyramids proudly live on!**

**Note: Minor codes exceptions as it relates to Egyptian pyramids include isolated scorpion infestation and acts of deadly homeland terrorism in and around the neighborhood in which they are situated.

I squarely place blame for the Mayans architecture failure on the likelihood that they outsourced construction to illegal aliens...those lazy Americans constantly infiltrated their borders. Dick Cheney is also a likely culprit.

Before anyone hastily judges me as a xenophobe, or a Dick Cheney hater...I am NOT.

I absolutely love Hispanics...especially Salma Hayek.

I also fully appreciate and admire the rich legacy and history documented within Hispanic culture. They've blazed amazing and important trails across the board in society, while setting immeasurable standards in the art of landscaping, the Dirty Sanchez technique, car stereo equipment, drywall hanging, Rave parties, hotel linen service, the tasty breakfast burrito and flashy gold jewelry.

Since I really have nothing of measurable importance to contribute upon my return to Pontchartrain Press, I figured it to be acceptable that I simply offer the annual birthday rambling.  The piece documents a 364-day journey of self-awareness and is titled:

                                           "Things That I've Learned"

Also known as:

                 "I'm Glad That My Parents Aren't Alive To Witness This Shit-Show."


1. Gossip still amuses me, in that one can only WISH that half of it were true. Unfortunately, my "gossip" life is much more exciting. To clear the air, here is a typical day in my world, regardless of what one might hear through the grapevine:

Wake up
Have some coffee and a smoke
Go back to sleep
Watch Judge Judy
Flip between Judge Nasty and whatever baseball game is being televised
Drift off to sleep
Wake up to find that the neighbor's cat has entered my house and is laying on top of me.
Order food
Think about writing
Go back to sleep
Wake up to learn that the Red Sox lost the game
Scrap plans for writing
Watch Jeopardy

2. As evidenced by an aggressive fly which has been dive bombing me in the house this week, stinging caterpillars on the sidewalk and a city-wide infestation of knife wielding mosquitoes, I've learned that even the insects are thugs in New Orleans!

3. I came to know three angry gentlemen this year who are age 74, 76 and 79 respectively. If I made it that far, I would be happy to still be ALIVE. If I were able to attain an erection at that age I'd consider it an added bonus.

4. I accept the fact that I'm far from perfect, as are we all...except for Ryan Seacrest.

Through the years in my life there have been missteps, mistakes, errors in judgement, approximately 4-minutes passed out (face down) in the snow, attending a Loverboy concert and downright stupidity. 

The saving grace which illuminates the road before me is to work toward reconcile, to help others when I can and to recognize every experience (good or bad) as a learning curve.

5. My friend, Doug, has apparently mastered a gardening feat in that he has grown peppers in his back yard which are so hot that they could be weaponized and sold on the black market to North Korea.

6. My neighbors are clinically insane...and usually drunk.

7. From an astute observation by my friend, John, I've learned that ANYONE can host a diner/dive show on The Food Network by dying their hair, driving a convertible and authoritatively asserting:

"That's the bomb! Tastes great! Mmmmm! The perfect mixture of crunchy, sweet and savory! You rocked it!"

8. The aftermath of hurricanes trigger incredible sale prices.

While waiting in line at the ONLY operating convenience store, thanks to generators, this is an actual transcript between me and a store customer.  It's important to note that she is a known neighborhood prostitute:

Me: Hey how ya' doin'?

Hooker: Good...it's been slow since the Hurricane passed last night.

Me: I'm sure.

(Insert awkward silence)

Hooker: So...you want a quick Bl*wjob for $20

(Insert awkward silence)

9. Me and my friend, Cornell, can indeed solve the world's problems from his front porch...until his pint of Gin runs dry and/or his wife comes out to yell at us around 3:00am.

10. The most stupid name an automaker could ever give to a car is "Yaris."

11. In the aftermath of the Boston Marathon attacks, many people, from first responders to everyday citizens, displayed remarkable acts of dedication, courage, tenacity and kindness. And...the New York Yankees are a class act for their tribute to an age-old rival.  Even though I absolutely HATE the song "Sweet Caroline," it was a kind salute.

12. My friend, Todd, is still somehow married, which teaches me that...well, it actually teaches me nothing.  Other than the fact that he's often quite intoxicated, is regularly forced to attend functions which include in-laws who are also regularly intoxicated as nephews and nieces run around in circles screaming as though they are running from the scene of an Al Qaeda attack. 

13. Words are more powerful than many people realize. I learned that I need to measure mine more often.

14. The Hot Tamale candy machine at an establishment in New Orleans is broken and dispenses candy with no money required. I will NOT be naming this establishment in the interest of greed.

15. Mike, the editor, recently paid me a compliment!  Which confirms that, no matter what YOUR doctor says, Adderall IS indeed right for him.

16. I learned nothing again this year about the rules of professional soccer...or HOW a tie can be claimed by a team as a win?  Also, why is it that the wall surrounding a soccer field looks like the Las Vegas Strip with $7-million dollars worth of advertising scrolls yet the scoreboard is being held up by some random guy on the sideline?

17. No matter what you might think, there is absolutely NO way to look cool while driving a mini-van.

18. The easiest way to make a 13-year old kid stay out of your way is to purchase an X-Box.  Of course, they also will never, EVER bathe, brush their teeth, do their homework, take out the trash, remember anything that you've told them for longer than 7-seconds, wash the dishes, witness the spectacle of grass, trees, sunlight or any semblance of human interaction...with the exception of a headset while playing against another kid 5-thousand miles away.  I've never understood how a kid can forget why he/she went to the kitchen but they can tell you how to negotiate 900 levels of Halo as though they wrote the game program.

19. Creative appreciation is in the eye of the beholder.  For instance, I recently suggested that a friend, who's trying to come up with a name for his band, call themselves: 

"Tom Selleck's Moustache" 

Against protest, my suggestion was flatly rejected.

20. All cell phones are different, so make sure to do your research before making the purchase.  For instance, mine sends out random, idiotic texts after about 4 Irish whiskeys.

21. I learned that, sometimes, it can be an impossible mission to cheer up a friend or loved one and that it's best to leave well enough alone so that they might handle it in their own way, as painful as it might be.

Another year has come and gone and I meet the new year with renewed hope and tremendous optimism by focusing on memories from birthdays past...

Such as the time that I sat on Santa's lap on the front porch of my neighbor's house and felt that I was sitting on something funny.  The fact that my birthday is in April should have been the first warning sign.

Then there's the time when I received a motorized 3-wheeler on my birthday, which my cousin crashed into a tree; he's paralyzed from the neck down to this day.

Or the feeling that I get since age 10 every time I get into a van that smells like cotton candy and cigars.

It wasn't easy being a kid...and not much easier as an adult, but growing older DOES bring one perk: discounts.  I understand that the neighborhood "working girl" is running a birthday special.

copyright Pontchartrain Press, 2013