Bewildered

Posted on September 13, 2015 by Professor Taboo

There are many many subjects I know nothing about; nothing of real significance that is, other than vague generalities and oversimplifications. For instance, I’m clueless about architecture and how to read a blueprint. I’m clueless about farming and how or when to plant certain crops, how to keep up the soil, when to harvest, etc. I’m also clueless about rugby or cricket and their rules! I’m clueless on how best to perform medical operations; I’m not a board certified doctor! There are many subjects I just don’t know enough about to carry-on any type of extended intelligent conversation!

So here are my questions to the cyber-world:

Is it wise to speak overtly, to be long-winded about things one knows very little or nothing about?

Why is it every two & four years — the American political cycle — everyone knows EVERYTHING about the dynamics of governing 319-million diverse people, or in my state of Texas 27-million, and are suddenly experts on ALL factors that effect people’s needs and wants and their current and future well-being? How do they have all the solutions!? What’s their secret? I want to know!

And now for some comic relief with much “truthiness”… 😀

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Live Well — Love Much — Laugh Often — Learn Always

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Machiavellian Meloidae

Posted on June 1, 2015 by Professor Taboo

For those of you who are utterly fascinated (like me) with Earth’s most resilient creatures — no, humans are not even close — the Meloidae take survival and reproduction to an all new high… or rather a cunning, evil low may be the correct designation. If you think politicians or double-agents are unscrupulous, then you don’t know much about these ingenious Coleoptera. No, not Cleopatra, Coleoptera… though the behavioral similarities are clearly there.

Beware of Seductive Female…

Coleoptera Meloidae

Bees. Yes, seductive fake female bees! Or perhaps I could have left-off “bees”. HAH! But let’s not go there, yet. But I do want to talk about perfumes… seductive perfumes!

The larvae of the Blister Beetle, after they are hatched, must immediately seek food. But they do not seek out just any menu. They want a specific 5-star platinum dinning establishment with an unforgettable experience, AND they want and will be chauffeured there! Men, married men, husbands with a pregnant wife or newborns… does this sound familiar? How do these newly born larvae do it? As the below video will show, their genetic coding makes them work as one team, climb to the top of a blade of grass or leaf, clump together, then the Coup d’état… they lure an unsuspecting (horny) male Digger-bee, and do it with specialized perfume, or pheromones! Again, sound familiar? Talk about the greatest STD. Wow! Guys, this totally redefines the need for super safe sex!

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What Can We Learn From Blister Beetles?

Having a background in psych counseling and assessment, as well as certified 4th through 8th grade teacher in all core subjects with a deep fondness for science and social studies (history), my students have always enjoyed relating or connecting Earth science and its creatures to self or to us. Invariably the bored middle school kids ask the question… How does this effect me or help me in life? Well my little unknowing enquiring mind, it does in many ways. Case and point: the Blister Beetle.

Male Digger-bee with stowaways

Ever heard of the adage “If it seems too good to be true, then it probably is” or its gullible opposite “Never look a gift horse in the mouth“? Those two phrases and similar ones carry a lot of wisdom. As many a magician have demonstrated over the centuries, our eyes can be easily deceived. Our ears and nose can be fooled as well, to a lesser extent. Obviously, the “perfumed pheromones” these meloidae larvae ooze, cause much “male digger-bee intoxication” and I believe mimic other species’ perfumes! I’ve fallen prey to different parfums enivrants as many times as these male digger-bees! And I’d wager I have hit the ground, once or twice, much harder than these gullible lads!

Our judgement and perceptions (of self and others) can be quite flawed. Only through periods of time — sometimes years, and in the case of humanity, centuries or millenia — and through trial and error do we learn from events and our mistakes. Hopefully not fatal mistakes. Therefore, it really behooves us flawed humans (and hetero males?) to consider situations with as much cognitive examination as with emotion, especially impulsive emotion. Easier said than done, right? Particularly when some of us are genetically wired to feel and feel strongly, or to find and love, and love strongly. Believe me, I have wrestled with this advice for much of my life, as my recent posts about my daughter, marriages and divorces, and the nature of love can greatly attest!

Five-Factor Model – courtesy of noboproject.com

All of us, every single human being alive, are inextricably connected to this planet and its life-giving (and taking) environments and creatures. We absolutely can learn from all the animals, how they survive, adapt, evolve, and especially reproduce, even from the aversely simpatico relationship of Blister Beetles and Digger bees.

Subtraits of the Big Five – courtesy of noboproject.com

In modern psychology, Machiavellianism (and this beetle) is one of three personality traits of the Dark Triad; dark meaning malevolent manifestations. Essentially it is behavior exhibited by a high drive to achieve at the expense of or disregard to others. Clearly this is the female Blister Beetle’s — and her offspring’s — motivation and behavior. What I find fascinating is the question “Are there Blister Beetles among us as humans?” Is it simply genetic programming in order to survive and perpetuate the species and they cannot CHOOSE morality… the “higher road”? Or are there always choices between species; in other words, species who are inferior deserving of extinction and those as superior who deserve to live and survive? Are we talking about humans or beetles? Humanity’s long long history of wars and genocide speak volumes of this Genetics versus Morality judgement. As much as Blister Beetles have a very high regard for self and their offspring, I think humans do too… particularly certain males. By default I must reluctantly include myself in that gender. 😦

In Wikipedia’s description of Mechaiavellianism, the section on human relations with other personality traits, I found to be uncomfortably familiar. Are you familiar with the HEXACO model? I wasn’t until I began comparing this beetle’s behavior with similarities to other Earth species, which I typically like to do as a good (Freethinking Humanist) science teacher. See the three figures of the HEXACO “Big Five” tables.. Where do you think your (self?) personality falls?

Traits beyond Five-Factor Model – courtesy of noboproject.com

Personally, I see the Blister Beetle’s Machiavellianism within several primate species, especially certain Homo sapiens. Would you agree or disagree? Why or why not? Are we products of our DNA or of our environment, or a little of both? Are you a Blister Beetle or a Digger bee. Or if you’d like to protect your true identity (like I do here!) you can simply comment about these cunning little insects and their larvae. 😈

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Live Well — Love Much — Laugh Often — Learn Always

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And It Begins

Posted on May 28, 2015 by Professor Taboo

“Let’s not mention grandchildren right now. I’m only just grasping that my little Tori married her middle school Sweetheart!” I replied to my new father-in-law.

Holy Sh*t! I could soon be a grandfather! Noooooooo! This does not make me feel invigorated, or young, or ready. Her mother and I didn’t marry until I was 35-years old and she 25-years old. Why, why, why did she start two months into 21!? Her new husband is only 22! Who in their right mind thinks they’re truly ready for marriage so young? Really?

Then I met and spent time with the groom’s parents and family… and the laughter almost never stopped.

* * * * * * * * * *

Rewind Several Months and Hours

Over Spring Break 2014 my daughter and son were with me and my family. What we all suspected was confirmed by Tori: she and Riley would indeed marry in May 2016 after they both finished undergraduate studies and received their Bachelor’s degrees. Everyone thought it a very good idea, especially me. I wanted to talk about so many things because I’ve essentially missed out on the majority of my daughter’s life due to our 2002 divorce and then their mother remarrying and moving over 300 miles away with both my daughter and son. I’ve missed out on 14-years to be exact, and counting. I had been LONG WAITING for the days she and I could become closer, talk more, without the subtle influences and distractions of her maternal family and religious fundamentalism. Now I must share her again and more. No, not what I had in mind!

But how does one compete with deep young love? How can I compete with a boy — now a man — who’s had my daughter’s heart since 10th grade? I am a little jealous. He has no idea how long I’ve been waiting for her! I raise my arms to the sky and let go a roar and scream that would make Tarzan cower!

Then the summer rolls around and SURPRISE! “We are getting married this May!” she tells me on the phone and everyone else. My jaw hits the table, my eyes bulge and I don’t breath. The very first thought that comes to mind as to WHY they feel they must rush it and push it up a year is… well, all of you are probably thinking the same thing I’m thinking.

She’s pregnant.

Tori begins to chuckle, “No Dad. I am not pregnant.” Whew! I didn’t even have to ask because given her mother, her father (me, not step-dad), and BOTH grandparents, out-of-wedlock babies run rampant in our families. Apparently we are all highly sexually energized and she has had this driven into her brain most of her life! 😮

Unplanned difficulty #1 avoided. Long exhale. Now for #2: I am so not ready for an expensive wedding a year earlier! I am a long-term but Substitute teacher working two other part-time jobs just to make ends meet! This is not going to develop well… for me. Traveling over 300-miles, lodging, meals, gas to and from, are not cheap especially on my meager wages. I’m stressed for the next several months, cutting more corners financially to save… somehow. I have no clue how.

Cats, Dogs, Cows, Elephants, and Even Whales!

Fast forward to May 22, 2015, the Friday before her wedding weekend. Not since around 1989-90 has north Texas — and many parts of the state — seen such record rainfall in a matter of hours and consecutive days. Getting 7″ to 10″ of heavy rain in two hours is unheard of in the annals of Texas weather. As I’m preparing for the trip down toward Houston, the local police and fire departments are explaining all the evacuation procedures for our park. Most all the lakes including the one I’m living on and near, are less than 1-foot from spilling over their dams. The river basin they pour and dump into runs all the way into downtown Dallas, beyond Houston, and into Galveston Bay on the Gulf of Mexico. My park, our RV park sits less than 1,500 feet from the banks of this river. Meteorologists are expecting the heavy storms to last until the following week. If I leave, I may return to a flooded out (or floated away) RV. I can’t miss my daughter’s wedding. I decide to go anyway. Saturday night is her (non?)rehearsal dinner.

My daughter in her wedding dress

The trip to Conroe is about three and a half hours down… down river that is. My ex-live-in-girlfriend, who spent much time with my kids when they still lived in the Dallas area, is also going with me. For the first two hours we drive in such heavy storms that I can’t see more than 45-yards in front of my car. To say it was raining cats and dogs is a gross understatement! The entire animal reserve was coming down on us, even sperm-whales! Yes, that was an intended family pun. The highway (I-45) is normally a 65-75mph speed limit. During three different long phases of the trip, we move no faster than 40mph. We left the DFW area at such a time as to allow us two to two-and-a-half hours to check-in, unpack, shower, and relax before the huge dinner. Two hours until the dinner begins, we are not even halfway there… still on the interstate. My wonderful ex-girlfriend/soul mate suggests calling my mother and we quickly shower and change in her room since their hotel is much closer to the restaurant. Fantastic idea!

With about 20-minutes to spare, we arrive at her hotel, unpack our suitcases, grab the key they left at the front desk, shower, change, pack our stuff BACK into our suitcases, run back out to the car, repack the trunk, then roll into the restaurant only 10-minutes late, somewhat dry and out of breath. My hands are sore from holding the steering wheel so tight. Simultaneously, my ex and I both say, “I need a DRINK!” We don’t mean water! We’ve had enough water for one full day. We’re about to devolve and grow ‘effin gills and fins!

The (Non)Rehearsal Dinner

My ex and I walk up to two rows of tables of 40 guests each. Our empty chairs are across from my Mom, her boyfriend, my sister, my paternal aunt and uncle, and next to the step-dad who is next to my ex-wife. Further down to my right is the maternal grandparents and two of the uncles and wives. To my left are cousins of the groom and their family. Everyone has started on drinks and appetizers. My daughter is the first one to stand and hug me. Her fiancé shakes my hand, they both hug and greet my ex-girlfriend. “I’m so glad you both made it!” she tells us. “We swam some of the way” I grinned. Then the groom’s father stands from across their table to shake my hand; we reaquaint ourselves from my daughter’s high school graduation three years earlier — in the back of our minds we’re thinking drinks, DRINKS please, as we smile and chat. He introduces his wife to my ex, they exchange greetings. We can’t seem to sit down just yet.

Then my son grabs me, gives me a huge hug “You two finally made it!” It seemed he had grown another inch or two since last Xmas. Ethan gives my ex a big hug too; he really liked her when we were together. My ex loved him immensely and missed them both. She too was amazed how tall he had gotten. We turn toward our chairs, but then face more family to greet and exchange formalities with — grumbling in my head, we still have no drinks. We can’t sit down to even order them. Meanwhile, everyone else seems to be on their second or third cocktail.

After we’ve said hello to all of my family, I turn to my kid’s step-dad and shake his hand hello. Quick and pleasant, like it should be. Now we finally get to sit! But there are no staff to take our drink orders because they are serving appetizers to everyone. My ex and I look at each other with crazy-eyes, “are you kidding?” as we both laugh. We’re both ready to steal drinks from family or guests gone to the bathrooms! Clubbing someone over the head is not out of the question either!

Minutes later I finally corner one of our waitresses and order four margaritas, two for both of us. When they arrived not soon enough, you would’ve thought we were inhaling the finest nectar on Earth as we moaned with pleasure. My ex leaned over and whispered “I want to gulp my down, but I don’t want to look like a lush or alcoholic!” I looked at her with this puzzled expression, “Don’t worry” I explained, “the divorced-in-laws (i.e. my ex-wife’s family) probably think we drink too much and have too much fun anyway. I’ll gulp if you’ll gulp!?” Ahhhh, we both smiled setting our glasses down. She whispered again to me, “Did you bring in the bottle of tequila?” If it wasn’t so big, I would have!

Though those were very stressful hours on the highway — what highway we could actually see — the drinks, dinner, conversation, and food were superb. Unless this post becomes 4 to 5,000 words long, I can’t go into detail of just how much we enjoyed the evening. Those two-and-a-half hours were a lot of fun, especially as the groom’s father moved around talking with everyone and making us all laugh. He encouraged us all night to order whatever our hearts desired. It was exactly what we needed after the boat-ride down in the USS Professor.

The Wedding Ceremony

Some of you who know me well know that my ex-wife, the step-father, and the maternal family are ultra-conservative evangelical Fundamentalists. The wedding ceremony and vows was most certainly going to be representative of my ex-wife’s beliefs and as such my daughter’s and how she was raised by her mother. My daughter by now may or may not have the full picture of how… how can I put this(?)… ~~over-bearing~~ “over-seeing” her maternal grandfather is and interjects his and his own family’s long-line of beliefs into her mother’s life as well as her own. But I knew preparing for this wedding she would get a more pronounced idea.

Yet, even I was amazed how super Fundy and overly-biblical the ceremony turned out to be. All sorts of Paulian theology and New Testament quotes were flowered into the marriage-ideals and vows as her maternal grandfather was the presiding minister. That surprised me greatly. I expected one of the staff members of her own church to do the honors! In hindsight, I can probably explain why the grandfather did it: he happily did it for free since the “biological father” couldn’t afford the expenses of the wedding. With equal reason(s) the evangelical Fundy beliefs had to be presented.

It was a VERY serious wedding. Fortunately, the reception afterwards was not as… stuffy? (wink) I have included a few pictures of the ceremony here because my daughter looked amazing! Her new husband Riley is also a big futebol/soccer fan. We always have tons to talk about when together. I like that! Score major points there Tori. 😉

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Groom’s Father and Family

Now I’ve reached the most pleasant, the most enjoyable and relaxing part of the wedding weekend: the groom’s father and family. Correction, the second most pleasant, enjoyable, relaxing part. Being with my daughter at her wedding and having my ex-girlfriend with me was clearly the first! But me and my Mom were wonderfully surprised by how much fun and how moderate the groom’s family turned out to be by comparisons. They knew how to have fun and laughed so easily!

They were all staying at the same hotel with my Mom, her boyfriend, my sister, and my aunt and uncle. Consequently, we had an opportunity to spend some time with them away from wedding-stuff and post-wedding. My Mom had the chance to spend much more time with them — my hotel was 30-minutes away in the next town, sadly. But we did manage to chat with them Sunday night.

As it turns out, my daughter’s in-laws are not so religious and serious. Or to put it another way, they are not so heavily convicted or obligated(?) to preach or “share the gospel of Good News” with everyone, especially sinners — which turns out to be good because me and my family are jovial “well-known” sinners. We were quickly drawn to them and as it also turned out, the groom’s father and my Mom’s boyfriend had a lot in common. Both of them grew up on the farm in the country. He up in the state of Iowa, my Mom’s boyfriend here in Texas. They both knew a lot about hunting, guns/rifles, and gutting, skinning, and cooking your kills. Listening to them all talk and laugh, I realized that they were just regular people who seemed not to care much about anyone’s religious beliefs or non-religious beliefs. It was so liberating to discover! For the last ten or more years I had assumed that my daughter, along with the close help of her mother and step-dad, would have to date a “like-minded” like-committed boy/man, especially to marry him. This may not be the case.

However, I can’t jump to certain conclusions, yet. As I’ve mentioned, I’ve missed out on the last 14-years of my daughter’s life. Riley’s personal beliefs and those of his family’s might be as hardcore as Tori’s mom and her family. They just didn’t show it over the weekend. Nevertheless, this was a fantastic start, from my perspective, for my daughter’s new life… and perhaps my future grandchildren.

* * * * * * * * * *

Above in the slideshow of wedding pictures, there is one with my son walking Tori down the aisle. That is when my eyes welled-up and I started sniffling. When she arrived up on stage, I had to wipe away one or two tears. Yes, as any father would say about his daughter at her wedding, she looked stunning. But not only do I mean it, but she truly does/did! She has inherited some great genes! Not only genes of beauty, but of high intellect too. Tori is indeed a fabulous ~~girl~~ woman and Riley, as well as his Dad, told me how lucky they feel to have her in the family.

Toward the end of the wedding reception, Tori was making her goodbye rounds before changing into their traveling/honeymoon clothes. We looked at each other, took deep breaths, smiled, and I told her…”And it begins.” I grabbed her and didn’t want to let go holding her for several lengthy seconds. I felt as if I might have to wait longer now. She chuckled at the thought of trying to escape me.

But then again, how long can a single, twice-divorced father hang on to his daughter when “a lifetime of love” awaits? What a strange funny thought. But for a husband and/or father, isn’t that life?

Live Well — Love Much — Laugh Often — Learn Always

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How Much Time?

Posted on February 18, 2015 by Professor Taboo

It is a lazy Sunday evening. I am finally enjoying a full day’s rest and a movie here and there. I kick Ms. Kitty’s little play-ball down the hall and she spins her sharp-clawed paws like a drag-racer’s tires, launching into pounce mode. As the prized ball hits a wall and deflects to the other side, Kitty uselessly tries to change directions. Bwahaha! Ahh, my FAVORITE pet entertainment worthy of viral YouTube status! This day cannot get much better. More please! Then my phone rings. It is my wonderful soon-to-be married 20-year old college-junior daughter! Hmmm. But we just talked a few days ago. Granted wedding preparations need much communication and many decisions, but typically we talk every other week or three weeks…unless…?
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* * * * * * * * * *

For those of you who don’t know my family dynamics and recent history, due to a 2002 divorce and Texas Family Laws, I was forced to become a part-time Dad; a role that my family, extended family, and particularly myself never dreamt of becoming or wanted. If you’d like to know the dirty facts of our divorce, then Click Here for that page. It’s a brief narration.

Suffice to say, the divorce was finalized September 18, 2002. But this post is not about customary, nasty divorces by piles of wasted money. This is about the phone call. It’s about another ongoing conversation between an excited daughter and her tentative on-pins-n-needles Dad trying hard to say and do all the right things…a Dad who FINALLY has a pseudo-free daughter to chat with, to know each other a little better, and probably more accurately! This is a father-daughter relationship that got put on hold thirteen years ago.

The Question

We get through the usual formalities about what I’m doing at the moment, then I ask “So what’s up with you? What’s going on?” And this is pretty much how the conversation goes…

“I need to ask you something.“

If you think you know what’s coming, or you have maybe a clue, believe me you have not even scratched the surface of how many possibilities I’d already come up with.

“Yeah, what’s that?” I cautiously reply.

“What do you feel are the roles of a husband and wife?“

Silence.

Seconds later, “Dad? You there?“

A distinct deep inhale begins, “I hope so.”

I am now scrambling my brain for any non-transparent way to transparently show I’m not buying time to not give the most moronic, stupid answer by all fathers on the planet. All my past relationships, marriages, flash across my memory. Cue the music…

Of course my daughter would be asking me that question because I am the pillar of marital success… if you don’t include my two failed marriages; the first lasting a whopping four months! And if you don’t include my last two relationships that did not end at the altar when perhaps they should’ve. And if you don’t include the previous five relationships to my first wife. And if you don’t include my arrest after catching my once fiancé with another man. No, make that two fiancés. And if you don’t include my own parent’s failed marriage after 28-years by Dad’s suicide over their 4-day separation. And if you don’t include my incomplete master’s degree in Marriage & Family Therapy after the suicide. And if you don’t include my in-laws, her mother’s family naysayers, cutting opinions about her Dad. And if you don’t include the fact that now five years after my last live-in girlfriend I’m still single today.

Sure, why not come to me, obviously!

“What a LOADED question. Why on Earth are you asking ME!?” my mouth blurts out chuckling at the irony. Knowing her version of her Dad’s marital fortitude, she begins laughing…

“Dad, you’re not going to be graded on it!“

HAH! The irony just keeps coming, the voice in my head screams! After some fourteen long years, this was not how I pictured our early heart-to-hearts. Though I have vast knowledge and experience in the art of never-a-dull-day intense, passionate relationships and windows of loves-never-truer sprinkled throughout — some of them naval portholes and others large picture windows to gaze the constellations — in reality, I am considered anything but the model spouse my daughter has been taught to seek and decipher. My proper title in her circles might be What Not To Marry: Lessons in Proper Dodging.

“This is for our pre-marital counseling at church.“

This I knew. Now I am somewhat relieved that she and her fiancé had not had a huge blowout fight and she’s rallying the troops. My daughter DID fortunately inherit her mother and father’s “take no bullshit” confidence. However, by all indications my daughter has wisely…umm, refined it. To that, I nod in graciousness. But wait! There’s another mine in this encroaching minefield.

“Just one counselor?” I suspiciously ask knowing her “circles.”

“Well, it’s us and two other couples. Like a support group with a counselor slash moderator.“

That voice in my head leaps up screaming, Ah HAH! So I WILL be graded! Relief steps out, familiar stress returns… en-force.

I attempt to keep my voice inflection normal, “You realize that my answer is going to come out of wormhole left-field of what you’re going to hear around you!?” She let’s out a big laugh…

“Yes. I know Dad.” she explains, “I just want to offer a different perspective to the group.“

Well, ain’t that the most soothing answer I could hear. If any of you have read my blog-posts about history, civil rights, social issues and same-sex rights, love, romance, marriage, polyamory, swinging and open-relationships, Biblical history and the earliest Early Church, then you’ll understand my daughter’s definition of different is in this case, a bit understated. Oh yeah, and I almost forgot: my near 30-years of BDSM that utterly sent her mother into ecstasy-orbit for eight years.

“Are you sure you want my answer?” in a soft semi-begging tone.

“Yes!” she answers laughing again, thinking of her father’s known flair for the dramatic. I let loose a long deep exhale…

“How much time do I have to answer this very important question?” …which so happens to involve the major majority of my daughter’s life! I need to take some time to really ponder my answer so that it benefits, or at least helps increase the potential happiness of my flesh-n-blood and her husband! Right? She starts her response…

“Oh, I have about 10 minutes.”
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* * * * * * * * * *

Life can be stranger than fiction, even my fiction. It damn sure has a sense of humor. Daughters have ways of redefining the (in)sanity of love, marriage, children, and family for fathers, as well as the circus it sometimes takes to keep it all… normal?

WHAT! What are you looking at!?

I gave my daughter my crash-course in happy-love, happy-marryment in 5 critical points for both spouses. She gladly jotted-down my key points and words, even the ones I emphatically said to place all in CAPS because I’m ~~dramatic~~ passionate that way, we actually talked and laughed for about 30 more delightful minutes. What gave me the biggest smile and glowing heart to last for weeks, was that she felt it necessary to include me… the man, the Dad she hadn’t and doesn’t know day-to-day. Yeah, happy-dance for this father.

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Live Well — Love Much — Laugh Often — Learn Always

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Blog content with this logo by Professor Taboo is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License.
Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at https://professortaboo.com/.

Here! Not There!

Posted on December 18, 2014 by Professor Taboo

Such events as follows are occurring with increased and unwelcome frequency.
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Evidence Log, Entry #1

APB – The Towel & Tissue Thief

It started out like any other shower routine. Being very aware of personal hygiene, I have a list of specific items inside the shower. Those items never leave, never move from within the shower. I may not use every single item every time, but unless the item is empty or past its lifespan and being replaced, those items must remain in place! Despite the perfection going on in and around my shower, imperfection manages to agonize me at the most inopportune times. He his known to most as Murphy, that sinister force from the familiar adage. He has never been a figment of my imagination. He is quite real and torments us all! For the aged, he is the Prince of Perverse and he has somehow removed my towel!

Evidence Log, Entry #2
It started out like any other bathroom routine. Your body tells you beyond any sort of confusion that it is time to relieve yourself soon. It will not be a quick trip, so you look forward to quality reading material. Over the years this chair-of-delight has become a tranquil happy time of intellectual stimulation. It is not to be rushed. For a man’s man like me, it is truly one of life’s simplest pleasures. As the end nears, you glance over to the tissue dispenser… and it sits empty; just cardboard. The Thief of Tissue has struck once again. To make matters less than dignifying, premeditation has placed the new rolls either across the expansive room in the cabinets opposite, or in a completely separate room where willing assistance must be hailed several times, putting one at a distinct disadvantage. Then I realize I am the only one in the house, thanks be to the fairies of embarrassment.

Entry #3

APB – Oger of Odor

It started out like any other suit-and-tie engagement. The tables were set with several pieces of fine china and silverware with two different drinking glasses in front. The occasion was grande, but the temperature unusually warm. Of the hundreds of guest, you know only the bride or groom on a personal basis, and they are overly detained. To avoid being a prude you meet and chat with total strangers. After a few awkward moments you realize that in your haste to be on-time, you completely forgot to apply deodorant. Ahh, the Oger-of-Odor is unexpectedly making his entrance. Later the bride and groom ask guests where you’re hiding, and one answer is always the answer: “He is outside; the one with arms folded.“

Entry #4
It started out like any other trip to the store. You hear a yelp from the bathroom vanity. Because there is no time and she is undressed, your wife or girlfriend has asked you to run quickly and purchase eyeliner. But not just any eyeliner; velvet-black glide-on pencil eyeliner with an unrepeatable French name in the .05 oz length. Not the liquid kind with the Italian name, the glide-on pencil kind; not the cream, not eyeshadow, and it must be black, not midnight blue… and a can of condensed milk for the caramel flan. I’m already friggin stressed and I haven’t even walked out the door. God knows what my pulse will be inside the store. Murphy damn sure knows because I hear him laughing. After staring at the cosmetic display for 20-minutes paralyzed, I go find a Cosmopolitan. She can help me! And yes, I purposely called her that name. Before my face could turn blue from no breath, I list the U.N. conditions of this eyeliner that must be found and purchased. Through process of elimination, the patiently humored store-clerk rings me up. I am so relieved she helped and proud as a peacock that I am delivering exactly what she wanted! With a huge smile on my face and the suavest of suave walks, I give her the coveted prize. “Did you get the can of condensed milk?” Complete and utter deflation followed by several unrecognizable cuss-words. The Murphy-of-Makeup had bitten me again.

Entry #5

APB – The Card & Keys Duo

It started out like any other backup plan. Since I don’t need my credit or debit card while in the house, I thought why not just leave them in the car. That’s the only time I really need them with me: when I’m driving to spend money to go further in debt, or to get gas. The plan is wittingly put into action. One cold late Sunday evening, I am walking out the door to the car to attend a good friend’s birthday party. I’m excited about going. I will know most everyone there; a fun comfortable group where everyone has a great sense of humor. I quick-step-it to my car, reach into my pocket and find nothing. No car keys. I do an about-face, get to the front door… locked. That door key is on the key ring with the car keys. I am not only locked out of my car, I am also locked out of my house. The window I usually leave unlocked for exactly this reason is now locked because I forgot to unlock it weeks earlier when window-washing. With no other quick choices available to avoid missing the entire party forty-minutes away, I call an after-hours locksmith, to go further in debt. Describing my situation and location, the dispatcher mentions he needs a credit card over the phone to guarantee against a cancelled trip out. Under my breath come familiar unrecognizable cuss-words. “Excuse me?” says the dispatcher. I apologize to him and humbly admit where my wittingly placed credit/debit card is located. He chuckled. The Criminals-of-Cards-n-Keys had struck again.

Entry #6

APB – close likeness of the Devil-of-Directions

It started out like any other conversation in the car. The weekend road trip would take us to a much-needed retreat about 80-miles west of hectic DFW. We had plenty of time to talk about anything. The trip had basically two turns, off of and onto two different highways. That’s it! My then girlfriend and I had no difficulties whatsoever talking about anything and everything under the Sun or Moon. When we disagreed, it inevitably made us laugh. It was one of those relationships that never seemed to have an ending. But then it did; in several different unsuspecting ways. She noticed the sign we just passed had said “Thackerville, Oklahoma 21 miles.” I asked her, isn’t Wizard Wells (the name of the retreat) in Texas? Bursting into laughter, we realized our turn west was over 60-miles behind us. I thought you were navigating!? Comically astounded she fired back, “I thought you were driving!?” We knew all too well both of us could not talk and drive at the same time. The two of us did not belong in the same car: trouble. The Devil-of-Directions had committed a double-homicide, again!

Entry #7

Common misnomer – Height does not equal force. It equals time.

It started out like any other little league baseball tournament with my son. Group play of two or three games, then the playoff round in the evening with the championship tomorrow. It is a full-day and weekend at the sports complex. Like most good pro-experienced fathers we want to impart to our sons our vast knowledge of the game and life. Those coaching tips are very important. I have absolutely no experience of playing baseball to speak of but the tips should be given with the least amount of interruption, even when needing to go to the bathroom between games. We trot over to the Men’s side of the building and belly up to the Little Man’s and Big Man’s urinals. As we stand there, I tell my son how quick he must think and how quick he must move and throw in certain game situations. He listens keenly filling his urinal with the voraciousness of Niagara Falls! Mine, on the other hand, is silent. My son finishes, zips his pants, rebuckles his belt, and stands there listening to my wisdom. Meanwhile, my urinal FINALLY starts to sound like a dainty Victorian tea-party with tiny cups. He really wants to get back out to the diamond. I see it in his face. I hear it in the tapping of his cleats as well as the here-and-gone-oh-here trickle in my urinal. I think we’re both thinking the same thing. The words, do as I say not as I do come to mind, but it seemed too blatant, too common. It probably wouldn’t achieve the correct lesson. Humbled, I paused a moment for my own wisdom and my not-so-quick plumbing… “Go ahead son, I’ll catch-up” …knowing full well I never would. The Poacher-of-Peeing was pillaging and caught me again damn it!

Entry #8
It started out like any other steamy erotic bedroom scene. Hah! Are you kidding? You think I’m going to share those ~~embarrassing~~ moments!? I’m aging, but not foolish…

…yet.
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It has become increasingly clear, no… let me rephrase that to reflect reality. I need a reminder-list to find my To Do list. I need a damn checklist for all the lists and reminders for reminders! Murphy’s diabolical ominous horizon is no longer “out there.” It’s here! I am no longer Ringmaster of my circus. The ever jovial Murphy has usurped my throne. He has taken my kingdom and my sword and replaced them with Geritol, Metamucil, and a walker.

Release clause: Sorry, for now that’s an exaggeration, but frustratingly less untrue.

No, Murphy-time is not on the horizon lurking, he’s HERE today. He isn’t in the distance or knocking anymore, he has found the hidden key and made himself at home! He is a persistent mad-man. And even though I have brilliantly perfected counter-measures of reverse psychology, like losing or forgetting to put on my pants, or putting on different colored socks, I can’t seem to shake Murphy like I use to or as much. He has become less a figment and more a nimble gnat I swat from my ears and nostrils.

I seem to have misplaced my Anti-Murphy repellant, again. My bifocals — check to see if they’re on or off my head — can’t seem to find the right horizon either, nor the damn wall in front of me.

Please, if anyone cares to join my circus, your own self-incriminating comments below are indeed welcomed!

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Live Well — Love Much — Laugh Often — Learn Always

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