Every laugh at how a random conversation will trigger completely unrelated memories? I was making small talk at the gym the other day after my workout and somehow we got on the subject of feet. My buddy Tom mentioned something about a guy’s feet.1 He shared how much he hated going on dates with guys that don’t take care of their feet. I’m sure it isn’t an over unique fetish but it triggered all kinds of memories from my childhood.
As a child I hated wearing shoes. I grew up in the piney woods and my only impression of shoes wasn’t a positive one. I felt they were a nuisance. I refused to wear them anywhere except school or hunting.2 Naturally, it wasn’t uncommon for the bottom of my feet to be calloused with very thick hard skin. It didn’t matter where I was, if I wasn’t fearful of thorns, I was barefoot. There were no concrete sidewalks for miles and miles and that meant no fear of hot surfaces or burnt feet. I even ran track in high school barefoot. Or, at least I did once my coach noticed I won more races when he let me race w/o shoes.
Of course, as an adult I take decent care of my feet. They stay clean, clipped and overall cared for; gone are the heavy callouses. The soles are now a bit sensitive but I still walk around barefoot on most flat surfaces. I often have to remind myself to wear shoes when running out around the block with Cooper. But that has more to do with not wanting to track debris back onto our new carpet.
Thinking back, it does seem a bit gross but back then I never thought anything of it. I’m sure my buddy Tom would have found me particularly gross. I neglected to share the flood of memories with him. heehee
I’ve mentioned a few times I’ve become addicted to Instagram, partly for the narcissism and party for inspiration. It can be very uplifting one minute and a total shit-show the next.
I opened a can of worms a few weeks ago. This body builder guy was posting pics on his public profile of his legs, torso, and buttocks. To clarify, he was clearly a legit bodybuilder and his pics focused on showing off his hard work. The pics were also often very revealing and left little to the imagination regarding his generous package. Said pics routinely got lots of hearts and comments. One day, I guess he’d had enough with what he felt were insulting comments on his sexiness (and his generous anatomy) and goes off on a rant. Basically, he didn’t like when people left comments about how nice his groin/butt is, how sexy he is, etc when he is just trying to track his progress.
I couldn’t help myself and left this comment:
While I can understand your frustration, it is unrealistic and somewhat hypocritical to post the types of pics you do in a public forum and then act upset when people see you in a sexual way. Yes, it may not be your purpose but your implying that every random person who finds your profile should just know that your pics are meant to be solely about your progress, not your manhood or overall good looks. Of course, this set off a firestorm of comments on both sides. The comments ranged from polite banter to the extreme of being compared to rape. I think he has since made his profile private. (smart man)
I have no idea if the guy was gay or straight, it wasn’t really relevant. I just found his faux outrage humorous. If you don’t want people gawking at your naughty bits, don’t put them out there.
I was overcome w/nostalgia the other day while perusing the local Tar-gay.1
It was the funniest thing. I saw a guy checking out who had on a pair of pressed blue jeans. And by pressed, I mean they were starched and ironed. Is this a thing anymore? Was it every a thing anywhere besides the south? I grew up where it was routine to see folks in pressed jeans. It was a way of being ‘dressy’ w/o wearing actual dress clothes. It often came with a very large pressed shirt, of the country variety, as well.
I saw the guy and a flood of memories hit me. It was like I was back in high school. Random scenes flashed before my eyes of different folks wearing pressed jeans. Students weren’t the only ones either. I remember plenty of faculty who also wore them to football games, public speaking events, class, etc. While girls tended to wear them more regularly, plenty of guys wore them as their dressy attire.
I remember one guy who wore them all the time. He always said he liked the way they felt against his skin. There are so many ironies apparent to me now of course. One, he wore them w/o undies and his jeans were often skin tight. Two, they still weren’t very revealing. Three, while he was straight (and I believed he was), you could often catch him grabbing himself front and back to lift them up tighter. I could see it in my mind as if he had been standing right in front of me at the store. I could even smell the faint smell of his stetson cologne, of which he often bathed in. I’m sure the fact that he had a very round backside had nothing to do with why I remember him specifically. hehe
Another prevalent memory revolved around an Ag teacher who was famous for having all his junk pushed to one side of his jeans.2 He was ‘straight’ and was routinely the topic of various gossip groups, teachers and students alike. But he loved his jeans pressed. I can’t think of a time actually that I ever saw him anywhere w/o his pressed jeans.
Anyway, it gave me a giggle. I hadn’t thought of it in years. I didn’t realize people still did it.
You know what a "smooshed sammich" is right? I was running late the other day and my coworker happened to see me making a smooshed sandwich and was very confused.
She asked why I was smooshing my sandwich. I’m like, "haven’t you ever made a smooshed sammich?"
*Quizzical looks from coworker*
It is a sandwhich you throw together, usually just meat and cheese and you smoosh it so it will stay together while you eat it. Usually a person is moving or active so the idea is to make it smooshed on purpose.
My coworker thought it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard.
Clearly, she didn’t grow up poor or anywhere Southern. heehee
I’m just curious how many of you reading this knew what is was?
No, I’m not dredging up stories of child hood fishing trips or late night trolling for booty. I am referring to the out of control click-bait you see polluting most social media sites these days.
Headlines are written to provoke a click. It doesn’t matter if the headline isn’t true or so twisted to barely represent the story, as long as you ‘submit’.1 Most of the time said person sharing the click-bait hasn’t even read the link. It it is annoying to the point that I’ve started unfollowing people who do it a lot.
It is one thing if it is specifically related to you or your life. Beyond that, I don’t care what animal you are. I don’t care what cartoon character you are. I don’t care what your wanna be porn name is. I don’t care what character in any movie ever made is. I don’t care if you are a unicorn who burps glitter and shits rainbows. And here is a news flash, no one else does either!
And you people who share fake stories or scams “just to be safe” need to be punched in the dick! Knock. It. Off! No Bill Gates and Yahoo are not joining forces. No, the IRS is not sending the sheriffs to your house to arrest you unless you send them money. No, the quadrillionaire in [insert county here] did not die and leave all his money in limbo so his [insert relative or estated holder] can ask your help in getting the money. No, VI@gR@ will not help you ‘get the girl.’ No, “if you are a real ______, you will share this like I did.” And for fuck’s sake, NO YOU WILL NOT RECEIVE A LOT OF MONEY BY MAGIC IF YOU POST THIS TO 10 OTHER PEOPLE’S PROFILES.
Now get off my lawn!
Reference to a very funny Simpsons episode btw [↩]
I had a very bizarre nightmare the other day. It left me restless and agitated for the rest of the day. I’m not prone to nightmares but when I do get them, they are often very vivid and intense. It must have been a weird star alignment because Cooper had woken us up at one point with his barking.1 Turns out, The Pup had also had bad dreams that night. I’m not overly superstitious but I’ll admit all three of us having bad dreams on the same night left me shaken the whole day. I kept waiting for something awful to happen as if it had been an omen.
I like to think I don’t have many hidden fears so I’m less prone to act them out in my sleep. I can’t say with any fact if that’s true but considering this particular dream, I am inclined to believe it. It involved The Pup leaving me. And while things are rock solid between us, and have been since we met, I guess I still have some lingering fear over it. I woke up and my face was wet so I’d obviously been crying in my sleep. It was weird because I could feel him next to me, even in sleep. We both tend to toss and turn so my body knew he was there. When I woke up, I guess we’d rolled away from each other at just the most inopportune moment as I no longer felt him touching me and since he left me in the dream, I had to physically make sure he was still in bed with me. It was a very surreal and scary feeling.
It was even more bizarre in that I was running for President. Yeah, you read it right. lolol I didn’t really want to run as I felt I had too many skeletons in my closet. But the more I tried not to run, the more popular I became and the more The Pup was unhappy with me. He didn’t want to have to share me with the world and the day I got elected president, he left me.
He and I laughed over it later when we had time to discuss it.
He only barks when he sleeps and clearly his barks weren’t happy barks. [↩]
My workspace at work is always an ice box.1 We have this awesome temp control system that allows to control the temperature in virtually every room but mine. lol The space I work in and the space next to me used to be one big room. After a reconfiguration project a few years ago, it was split in two. That’s great but now the temp controls for the other side no longer effects my side. So I work in this nether space of frozen Tundra temperatures. Someone made a conscious decision to not include this little space because all the temp sensors have been removed. Seriously?! lol
My workstation has a little Johnson control heater which is usually enough to off-set the worst of it. But on days like today, it’s just a polar zone up in here. brrrrrr. I keep an extra warm up on the back of my chair so I can bundle up. If you see updates on Google+, twitter, or FB that ramble off into one or two letters, call 911, I’ve frozen to death.
That’s slang for refrigerator for you young’ens [↩]
Continuing in my random thought rants, and for you beard/mustache groomers out there, ever get that perfect self cut or trim? Ain’t it grand?
I was trimming my wiry beard and shaving my neck fuzz the other day and I got the perfect trim to it. Yes, I know, riveting news! hehehe I never seem to shave both sides evenly. One side always looks a tiny bit off and no matter how hard I try, it only seems to make it worse. One side is either lower or seems to have a dent in the shave line. That or the line angle along my jaw always seems a bit off.1 Of course, no one ever notices it. It’s always tiny deviations that I only seem to notice.
Well, the other day I got it perfect! The width was the same, the lines were even and angled the same. I was so proud of my little endeavor. Can I get an ‘amen’? heehee