There Are No Answers – Again…

Well… i guess i’m not quite done with this blog thing quite yet. Seems i still have a few things i need to say. And tonight’s message?

Don’t kill yourself, ok? Seriously. Don’t do this.

This is like walking out during the first five minutes of a shit movie. You know it won’t last. There’s always the slightest glimmer of hope that it might get better.  Or at least you’ll be able to entertain your friends by telling them about the shittiest movie you’ve ever seen….

There are no answers when a young man decides to check out.  Whether he’s 16 or 37.  The common thread, at least from my point of view on this particular night, is the herd of numb, bewildered and heartbroken humans… Shocked.  Angry.  Confused.  Comforting each other as best they can…

Scotch and kleenex.

i am an extrovert, and have an extensive collection of friends and acquaintances.  i never meet a stranger.  Truth is, i have very few close friends.  Last week, i would have put that number at seven.

Today?  Six.

Fuckinghell.

Just another night out…

As if my recent “Awards Banquet” evening didn’t have enough twists and turns, there was an “after banquet” event that stayed in my head…

Although we were ridiculously over-dressed, a friend an i decided to keep drinking hang out after the awards banquet.  Considering options, we agreed on a local watering hole – known for being friendly, rowdy, and on a Thursday night, full of twenty-something party dawgs.  Undeterred, we arrived – me in a cocktail dress, and him looking edible in a tux.

Other than a little flirty chatter about my outfit with the doorman, i’m pretty sure no one batted an eye when we arrived.  Snagged a gin and tonic and a table, while my “date”* was chatted up by a young lovely at the bar who insisted on buying him a beer.  Sheesh.  i had to buy my own…

Taking in the “scene”, i noted packs of youngish “ruffian” boys – perhaps drinking after a Thursday night softball game.  College-aged girls – decked out in party gear, sporting muffin-tops and wearing too much make up – arriving to feast on the sweaty ruffians.  The juke box played everything from country ballads to hip hop to classic rock.  A typical night at a suburban pub.

Completely out of place – at the end of the bar – sat a middle-aged man.  Wavy gray pompadour, glued into shape and polished to a soft glow.  Suspenders.  Dress slacks – a bit on the short side – with light colored socks and loafers.  Thick glasses.  Drinking what appeared to be ice water from a red plastic tumbler.  On the bar in front of him was a “day planner” or notebook.  At nearly 10 pm on a Thursday night, he just didn’t seem to fit…

With Pretty Boy being chatted up by a starry-eyed brunette at the bar, my character study was disrupted by new arrivals.  Two young women arrived.  One wearing a shiny metallic blue bicycle helmet.  She was sort of plain, but cute and animated in her conversation with the doorman.  With much flapping and gesticulating, while her silent friend watched eagerly, the doorman finally waved her inside…  As she walked by, i noticed she was carrying a unicycle**.  The bar is on a four lane commercial highway.  Riding a unicycle to get there?  At night?

As she met up with some of the ruffians, a few of them playfully pounded her on the helmet, and after a couple minutes, she returned to the door, thanked the doorman and was on her way.  With Adonis the Wonder Date now being virtually dry-humped by his gal pal, i walked to the door to inquire about the incident.

daisyfae:  Did a helmeted girl with a unicycle just walk through here?

doorman:  Yep.  Here most Thursdays…

daisyfae:  Thanks.  Just wanted to make sure someone hadn’t slipped hallucinogens into my gin and tonic.

doorman:  One of the Rugby Girls. 

daisyfae:  And most certainly a virgin.  i’m sure her mother is proud…

Returning to the table, Pretty Boy was back – having missed the entire incident.  He questioned my sanity, and we went on to talk about “Old Joe” at the bar, speculating on his “Story”… Addled?  Molester?  Clueless?  Lost?  Dropping back into office-related gossip, and comparing dating horror stories, we eventually lost interest in Old Joe.

When the karaoke started a few minutes later, the first song was a Sinatra number.  None other than Old Joe, singing his heart out!  Not a horrible voice, but a little shaky…  Turns out it wasn’t a calendar he had on the bar in front of him, but a CD case – he’d brought his own karaoke CDs.  Sign of a karaoke whore professional. When he finished, the Rugby Ruffians cheered him on, then went back to their ass-grabbing and beer-swilling.

The whole thing just made me smile… There’s a natural rhythm to humanity sometimes.  People drop in and out, catching up with the step of the moment.  New dancers featured for a solo, then dropping back into the chorus.  But when the harmonies come together, too?  Magic…

_______

* Very, very pretty friend.  He looks about 30 years old, and leaves a trail of drooling girlies everywhere he goes.  Marginally oblivious to it, which makes it very fun to watch!

** No.  Not THE unicycle.  Although the girl was nearly a ringer for the cute kid that bought mine…

Blown away*…

Um… From the “What the fuck” files…

There was this hurricane thing.  Hit Texas?  You may have heard about it?  Well, Ike didn’t just beat up on Tina Turner… Quite literally, out of the fucking blue, wind picked up yesterday afternoon.  And right here in the middle of nowhere-near-a-coastline, we got Tropical Storm force winds – sustained about 40-50 mph, with gusts to 80mph (that’s Category I Hurricane, for those of you without access to The Weather Channel).

Needless to say, this is not a regular occurrence here in the midwest.  Six hours of big wind – thrust upon trees that have never been tested against such force – means “HOLY SHIT”.  The entire region is literally blown away.  Fortunately, very few casualties – trees falling on motorcyclists, heart attacks as people say “WHAT THE FUCK? I LIVE IN THE MIDWEST?  WE DON’T HAVE HURRICANES, FOR FUCKSAKE!” – and surprisingly no rain. I’m no meteorologist, but i think that’s because there is no ocean within about 1500 miles…

Down in The Park?  90% of the Cincinnati metropolitan area was without power this morning.  DQ and BJ** evacuated Mom late yesterday – a large tree came down in her back yard and freaked her out.  Didn’t hit anything important, but they thought it best to get her somewhere else – so she’s hanging out with BJ’s parents in an armored fortress with portable generators***.  Oh, and i’m guessing we’ll need to re-pimp Dad’s grave.  Ain’t no way that the silk arrangement withstood 80 mph gusts…

Headed out to run errands at my old house in the middle of the ‘blow’, and hadn’t realized how bad it was til i ran into the first massive tree trunk blocking a roadway.  Power lines down everywhere.  My power went out around 3:30PM.  Went over to my old house – and with all the old trees adjacent, expected the worst – and all was well.  A neighbor got a big ol’ branch through the roof, though.

Hit a hardware store – operating on generator power, of course – and bought some shelving for the new place.  And proceeded to get drunk with a friend, while installing shelving in a closet.  Not the easiest thing to do by candlelight, but we were resourceful…

So i’m going to be a little bit ghostly in your ol’ comment boxes****.  Limited connectivity until my neighbor with the unsecured wireless access gets things up and running again.  Awaiting the plague of locusts, strontium showers and fires from the sky…  Gotta wonder if the Large Hadron Collider activity was responsible.  Damn Europeans…

__________

* “Hurricane” is perhaps one of the best love songs ever.  And certainly one of Neil Young’s best.

** BJ’s home, down to taking just tylenol for pain, and in a back brace.  He has been directed to stay mostly horizontal, but is doing well despite the crushed vertebrae.

*** God love those damn survivalist types!  Good to know someone with a bunker when the shit starts flyin’, isn’t it?

**** May or may not be a euphemism, depending on who you are!