Massage #2, Longwang, etc.

Blogging away while keeping an eye on Mister Longwang.
(Napoleon Dynamite voice) “Gah!” That’s so much more creative than Katrina and Rita.

Stay away from my danger
I hope you’ve all seen that Stuart Larkin skit on MadTV. It’s one of the funniest things in the history of television to me. So I went for my second massage yesterday. Going in, I was thinking there was no way it would feel as good as the first time. After all, there’s nothing like your first time, right? Wrong! This one was even better. She massaged each of my toes! Oh my good gracious, I had no idea that was such an erogenous zone. My toes are very ero-gen-ic? She also had me turn over for the last five minutes or so. Ruh roh, Shaggy. I cannot even put into words how wonderful the entire thing was. So, coming out, she says something like, “For someone who just recently got his first massage, you sure are getting accustomed to them.” Oh yeah! No doubt. Another girl who works there was sitting out in the front area there and she said, “They’re addictive aren’t they? You just want one everyday.” Exactly. You read my mind. Oh, and I remembered to tip her, too. Ten bucks for a sixty dollar massage. Do you think that’s good? I had to fight the urge to just hand over my entire wallet.

For the sake of fiscal responsibility, I’m going to try to only go once a month. However, I’m not sure if I can stick to that. I am addicted. My name is Bone, and I am a massage-aholic. Will you please rub on me?

A Big Sweaty Tale, by Bone
You remember my recently developed germophobic tendencies. Or maybe you don’t, but that link will refresh your memory. Anyhow, so it still smells really bad in here usually one or two days a week, due, I’m assuming, to Big Sweaty. So I have gotten in the practice of spraying down the studio with disinfectant everyday after he leaves. Well, the other day, Tuesday I think, he comes back in after I have sprayed and evidently smells the Lysol. So he asks me, “Does it smell bad in here?” As much as I would have liked to say, “It always smells bad in here after you’ve roosted for a few hours”, I instead struggled to come up with some false explanation. I looked around the room. Spotting some flowers that someone had received a few days before, I said, “Well those flowers were starting to smell pretty strong, so I sprayed some Lysol.” So disaster was narrowly averted, and I didn’t even have to give up my Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups as a sacrificial offering.

In other news…
Amy Poehler is on Conan tonight! She narrowly missed Bone’s top seven celebrity crushes. I’m a sucker for funny girls.

We finally had our first “fall” day yesterday. Very nice and cool. I wish I could box it up and send it to ya.

Well, that’s about it for now. Big game tomorrow. I’m nervous. I went by the mall yesterday after my massage. Got a Bama shirt at Hibbetts to wear to the game Saturday. They are a little higher, but they usually have the best Bama stuff.Hope you all have a great weekend. Roll Tide!

“Chantilly lace, and a pretty face, and a pony tail hangin’ down. A wiggle in her walk, giggle in her talk, makes the world go round. Ain’t nothin’ in the world like a big eyed girl, that makes me act so funny, spend my doggone money…”

Ants, Birds, & Smack

Sometimes I wish that we still lived in the days where people were given last name’s based on what they did, or what their father did. Can you imagine? Then you’d have names like Bone Bloggerman. And perhaps my son would be named something like Isosceles Bloggerson. Or Blerdson. But alas, it is not to be.

Well, I have ants in my truck. Discovered them tonight on my way to dinner. So I’m driving down the highway trying to smash them with an old check stub (the only piece of paper I could find), and I keep swerving off the road and into the other lane. Have you ever smashed an ant, then smelled it? It has a very odd, distinct smell. Try it sometime. Anyhow, I figure they must have gotten in there from some of the boxes when I was moving. Never had ants in my vehicle before. So, I guess there’s only one thing to do. Sell my truck. Tomorrow.

It only gets better… or worse…
While running at the track yesterday, it was almost dusk and a very pleasant evening. I noticed a flock of birds lining up on the powerlines high above my head. I started wondering what they thought of all these people so far down below. And then I wondered if birds ever purposely tried to– SPLAT!!! Ewwwww! I’ve been hit! On my left ear. Stupid ornithological hellions! So as I continued running, I was trying to wipe my ear clean with my shirt. As luck would have it, there were hotties all over the track, and a couple were fast approaching. I can only imagine trying to flirt with them in my current predicament:
“Come here often?”
“Leave me alone.”
“Maybe I could call you sometime and we could go for a run together.”
“Get away from me.”
“What? Is it the bird crap on my ear? Is that what it is? Oh, I guess Miss Fancy Pants Runner Girl has never been crapped on by a bird. Well, aren’t you special?!”

So, I guess there’s only one thing to do. Go Picasso on my ear.

Never fear, however. I’m not going to let a little fowl matter in my auditory canal bring me down. Over the past few months, I don’t know what it is, but I have been in this really happy place. Life has truly been good. Or maybe this is what comes with maturity, and learning to be content with my situation, rather than let my situation dictate my mood. I would like to think that. Whatever it is, it has been really nice. Of course, once I run out of heroin, things could be quite different.

Oh, I scheduled my second massage for Thursday afternoon. I can’t wait! I’m addicted!

OK, I’m off to find some Q-tips… and a sharp paring knife :-)

“Please don’t make me answer you. The world is big but my circles are small. And please don’t try to shut me out. I’m in love, that’s all…”

Ants, Birds, & Smack

Sometimes I wish that we still lived in the days where people were given last name’s based on what they did, or what their father did. Can you imagine? Then you’d have names like Bone Bloggerman. And perhaps my son would be named something like Isosceles Bloggerson. Or Blerdson. But alas, it is not to be.

Well, I have ants in my truck. Discovered them tonight on my way to dinner. So I’m driving down the highway trying to smash them with an old check stub (the only piece of paper I could find), and I keep swerving off the road and into the other lane. Have you ever smashed an ant, then smelled it? It has a very odd, distinct smell. Try it sometime. Anyhow, I figure they must have gotten in there from some of the boxes when I was moving. Never had ants in my vehicle before. So, I guess there’s only one thing to do. Sell my truck. Tomorrow.

It only gets better… or worse…
While running at the track yesterday, it was almost dusk and a very pleasant evening. I noticed a flock of birds lining up on the powerlines high above my head. I started wondering what they thought of all these people so far down below. And then I wondered if birds ever purposely tried to– SPLAT!!! Ewwwww! I’ve been hit! On my left ear. Stupid ornithological hellions! So as I continued running, I was trying to wipe my ear clean with my shirt. As luck would have it, there were hotties all over the track, and a couple were fast approaching. I can only imagine trying to flirt with them in my current predicament:
“Come here often?”
“Leave me alone.”
“Maybe I could call you sometime and we could go for a run together.”
“Get away from me.”
“What? Is it the bird crap on my ear? Is that what it is? Oh, I guess Miss Fancy Pants Runner Girl has never been crapped on by a bird. Well, aren’t you special?!”

So, I guess there’s only one thing to do. Go Picasso on my ear.

Never fear, however. I’m not going to let a little fowl matter in my auditory canal bring me down. Over the past few months, I don’t know what it is, but I have been in this really happy place. Life has truly been good. Or maybe this is what comes with maturity, and learning to be content with my situation, rather than let my situation dictate my mood. I would like to think that. Whatever it is, it has been really nice. Of course, once I run out of heroin, things could be quite different.

Oh, I scheduled my second massage for Thursday afternoon. I can’t wait! I’m addicted!

OK, I’m off to find some Q-tips… and a sharp paring knife :-)

“Please don’t make me answer you. The world is big but my circles are small. And please don’t try to shut me out. I’m in love, that’s all…”

Ants, Birds, & Smack

Sometimes I wish that we still lived in the days where people were given last name’s based on what they did, or what their father did. Can you imagine? Then you’d have names like Bone Bloggerman. And perhaps my son would be named something like Isosceles Bloggerson. Or Blerdson. But alas, it is not to be.

Well, I have ants in my truck. Discovered them tonight on my way to dinner. So I’m driving down the highway trying to smash them with an old check stub (the only piece of paper I could find), and I keep swerving off the road and into the other lane. Have you ever smashed an ant, then smelled it? It has a very odd, distinct smell. Try it sometime. Anyhow, I figure they must have gotten in there from some of the boxes when I was moving. Never had ants in my vehicle before. So, I guess there’s only one thing to do. Sell my truck. Tomorrow.

It only gets better… or worse…
While running at the track yesterday, it was almost dusk and a very pleasant evening. I noticed a flock of birds lining up on the powerlines high above my head. I started wondering what they thought of all these people so far down below. And then I wondered if birds ever purposely tried to– SPLAT!!! Ewwwww! I’ve been hit! On my left ear. Stupid ornithological hellions! So as I continued running, I was trying to wipe my ear clean with my shirt. As luck would have it, there were hotties all over the track, and a couple were fast approaching. I can only imagine trying to flirt with them in my current predicament:
“Come here often?”
“Leave me alone.”
“Maybe I could call you sometime and we could go for a run together.”
“Get away from me.”
“What? Is it the bird crap on my ear? Is that what it is? Oh, I guess Miss Fancy Pants Runner Girl has never been crapped on by a bird. Well, aren’t you special?!”

So, I guess there’s only one thing to do. Go Picasso on my ear.

Never fear, however. I’m not going to let a little fowl matter in my auditory canal bring me down. Over the past few months, I don’t know what it is, but I have been in this really happy place. Life has truly been good. Or maybe this is what comes with maturity, and learning to be content with my situation, rather than let my situation dictate my mood. I would like to think that. Whatever it is, it has been really nice. Of course, once I run out of heroin, things could be quite different.

Oh, I scheduled my second massage for Thursday afternoon. I can’t wait! I’m addicted!

OK, I’m off to find some Q-tips… and a sharp paring knife :-)

“Please don’t make me answer you. The world is big but my circles are small. And please don’t try to shut me out. I’m in love, that’s all…”

The Seven Meme

NOTE: I put a link to the JK Show archives on the sidebar. So you can listen to our attempt at podcasting whenever your heart desires.

I like short memes and I cannot lie. All you other bloggers can’t deny…

I was tagged by Lass with this one. Seems like a good way to spend a Tuesday, feeding your fixation with the man some call Bone, all the while making it evermore convenient for you to stalk me. So, here goes:

7 things I plan to do before I die:
Fly on a plane
Go back to school
Go back to New York
Continue writing
Learn to play guitar
Have or adopt a child
Live

7 things I can do:
Ice skate
Talk like Eric Cartman (a little)
Quote many random lines from Seinfeld
Water ski
Recite many random song lyrics
Make people laugh (whatever it takes)
Operate a forklift (Manuel Labor lives on)

7 things I cannot do:
Roller skate
Read fast
Dive head first
Lie
Snow ski
Roll my tongue
Think of a good 7th thing to put here

7 things that attract me to another person:
Curves
Humor
Honesty
Depth
Voice
Morals
Confidence

7 celebrity crushes:
Stephnie Weir
Michelle Pfeiffer
Allison Fisher
Jennifer Aniston
Kim Cattrall
Jill Arrington
Charlize Theron

7 Things I say the most:
“Awww.”
“Good heavens!”
“I’m fixing to…”
“Crap.”
“I guess.”
“Bro.”
“See ya.”

7 bloggers I am tagging:
Cindy
Dea
Kerry
Lindsy
OC Girl
Tiffany
Xinh

“I’ve learned to love myself and I don’t need no one else. When love moves on cos it gets cold, a new love moves in and it can fill the hole…”

Apartment #7

“Everything remembered is dear, endearing, touching, precious. At least the past is safe. Though we didn’t know it at the time. We know it now because we have survived.”

I’ll never have to go back there again… Cleaned out my old apartment yesterday. Jonathan and my sister helped. Without their help, I’d still be there. It was a lot of work. Not to mention there were tornado sirens going off in town as we had several tornado warnings from Rita passing through. And we had no radio or TV at all, leading to this:
“I wonder if it’s heading this way.”
“Well, we should know within the hour.”

In the midst of packing things up to move over the past couple of weeks, there have been several reflective moments. I came across many items that I had completely forgotten about. Sometimes I would catch myself pausing for a moment, just sitting there remembering, and smiling…

I thought about the night I proposed to her, as she sat in the bedroom floor, putting together this puzzle I used to have. And the look on her face when I surprised her with a ring.

I thought about the night we lost it, sitting on the couch, both in tears, as she gave the ring back to me.

I remembered having a roomate for the first year and a half I was there. No food was safe.

I thought about the time Bunny’s psycho ex-boyfriend came in without knocking, accusing me and everyone else of causing them to breakup.

I thought about the time the cops almost broke down my door because everyone thought I was dead.

There was the time we filmed the Look Mom, No Life pilot, our closest brush with fame, which turned out to be not very close at all. And I discovered that it’s not really that difficult to memorize lines when you shoot each scene ten or fifteen times.

There was the night M and I suddenly just decided that after two years, it just wasn’t working. And I remember as she walked out feeling that this was something that I was going to miss.

I thought about how I used to sit there singing along to the digital cable music channels as T laughed at me. She must have been in love.

There was the Dodge-Dart-yellow stove (which fortunately died and had to be replaced) and green refrigerator. Those I won’t miss.

And of course, there was my surprise birthday party when I turned 26. I never had a clue what was going on. That will always be one of my favorite memories…

I was the last one to leave yesterday. I walked thru every room making sure I wasn’t leaving anything behind. They were empty, far as the eye could see. But they were full of memories. A few I mentioned here. Some probably shouldn’t be mentioned. And some are stuck between the pages of my mind, just waiting for me to come across them again. I think I am learning quickly that it is OK to have memories and to cherish them, as long as they don’t interfere with the present. The past is part of who we are. I just wonder why it often seems so much better now than it did at the time.

Before I closed the door, I took one last look back inside. For the past eight and a half years, this was where I had slept (almost) every night. Of course it was more than that. It had been home. And home is important, no matter where it may be.

“Sit here on the stairs cos I’d rather be alone. If I can’t have you right now, I’ll wait dear…”

The Show: Episode Four

Well, we just put the finishing touches on another funtabulous show. Other than the fact that I’m pretty sure we misspelled tattoo, I think it turned out pretty well. Click here to listen.

“Ooo I want you, I don’t know if I need you, but ooo, I’d die to find out…”

Casa de Bone

Today is Jason Alexander’s birthday. In honor, I thought I would share one of my favorite George Costanza quotes: “If you take everything I’ve done in my entire life, and condense it down into one day, it looks decent!” Amen, brutha!

This will be a light-hearted post for a Friday, sort of a return to the blog about nothing. First some pics of my new abode:

1. Sorta looks like Jerry’s apartment from the outside. If it were a few stories taller. Maybe?
2. You know the stairs are my favorite part. Wonder what’s upstairs?
3. Like my pink kitchen countertops? Not all that conducive to the bachelor atmosphere.
4. And a fenced in patio. To keep kids in. Or out. Most days this area will be filled with girls and a grill. Ideally.

I love it here! Absolutely. Have yet to hear a child scream or anyone yell or see any blue lights anywhere. I know it’s not even been a week, but who knew such a place existed! Went over to the old place last night to box up a few more things. We are planning to finish up there Sunday. Jonathan and my sister are signed up to help, so far. I was driving thru town the other day and I was thinking, I do love my new place. And while it totally feels like home, this town will never be my hometown. That will always be the town where I lived from the time I was five until this past Sunday. Make sense?

Went running yesterday (Lass), even if it was a short one. I have to find a new place to run around here. There’s one nice park, but it’s extremely hilly and I think running there is what made my knee hurt so bad a few months ago, because I used to go by there right after work. Also played some tennis. Went to a football game tonight. Going to the Bama game tomorrow. I think I’m going to try and schedule another massage for next week. This moving hasn’t been good for my back. I’m sure ;-)

And now it’s time for everyone’s favorite feature…

You had to be there
“Of course he probably thinks I’m way to young for him.”
“I don’t think any guy has ever thought that. Ever.”

“Is the sun bothering you?”
“No, that’s just the way I serve.”

“Now I just have to find a girlfriend to do it for free.”

“Ooo, General Hospital is on!”
“Please tell me you’re joking.”
“I can tell you I’m joking, or I can be truthful. Are you telling me you don’t love Luke and Laura, and Sonny and Carly, and Alan and Monica, and Jason, and Lucky, and Nicholas, and Emily, and Elizabeth?”

In closing…
Changing a bit from the light-hearted mood of this entry, Xinh emailed me this today. It’s really a sad day in America when kids today have to be ashamed of their parents…

Little Johnny was in his 5th grade class when the teacher asked the children what their fathers did for a living. All the typical answers came up– fireman, policeman, salesman, etc. Little Johnny was being uncharacteristically quiet and so the teacher asked him about his father.

“My father’s an exotic dancer in a gay cabaret and takes off all his clothes in front of other men. Sometimes, if the offer’s really good, he’ll go out to the alley with some guy and make love with him for money.”

The teacher, obviously shaken by this statement, hurriedly set the other children to work on some coloring, and took Little Johnny aside to ask him, “Is that really true about your father?”

“No,” said Little Johnny. “He coaches Auburn University football, but I was too embarrassed to say that in front of the other kids.”

:-) Roll Tide! Have a terrific weekend!

“You got too many bees in your honey. Am I just another word in your page?”

Last thing I expected

“Last thing I expected was to get her call tonight, cos the last thing that I heard from her was she’d found Mister Right…”

She called last night. You remember her, don’t you? You know… her.

I missed it. She left a message. No call back number. Said she’d call another time.

“…but when I came home this evening, there it was on my machine. Now I’m just wonderin’ what the hell it means…”

It’s been over a year since I’ve heard from her. Yet it still affects me. Somehow. My mind wanders…

That’s all I really know to say. I may not even leave this post up.

“Said she’s sorry that she missed me, and she’s been doin’ fine. But I’ve run it back and heard her say those words a hundred times…”

A chill in the air?

Well, not quite yet. But there’s always that first instant each year, usually on some evening in late August or early September, when I feel that very first chill, signifying that summer will soon be coming to an end. The cooler days of fall are not far away, offering just a hint of the not-so-distant winter. That change in the air always gives me a familiar, nostalgic feeling. There’s just something about the changing of the seasons.

Something Kerry posted awhile back brought to mind some of my fondest summertime memories. Childhood memories like helping my grandma shell peas, chasing lightning bugs in the backyard, catching them and putting them in a jar and punching holes in the lid so they could breathe, catching junebugs and tying a string to them, riding around in the back of a truck. Back then, if someone had a truck and you were a kid, you always wanted to ride in the back. And the adults would always stick their head out the window and tell you to sit down. Like we were really gonna fall out. Well, there was that one time. But I digress.

Then memories turn to family vacations when I was a little older. Long-time readers (both of you) will recall my Opryland fascination, as evidenced by my Opryland tribute, my pseudo Opyland historical tours, and my reconaissance mission to the site of the Grizzly River Rampage. This is what comes from going to Opryland on your family vacation seemingly every year for like ten years straight. Later memories turn to beach trips. Three-day weekends of sand and sun, and the ocean breeze clearing my head. Nothing like it.

Another of my favorite summertime memories occurred over two or three summers when I was in my late teens. One of my friends (Ben from the LaGrange story) had a job operating the scoreboard and keeping the scorebook at the local softball fields. From April thru July for two or three years, several of us guys would hang out up there almost every weeknight. We talked about nothing, laughed about everything, sometimes even watched TV in the pressbox (’92 NBA Finals: Bulls/Blazers). The games would get over around 9:30 or 10:00 every night and often we’d go out to eat afterwards. It was the closest thing to a true hangout that I ever experienced. You never had to call anyone to ask if they were going to be there. You just showed up and someone was always there. There were always lots of girls my age there, too. I met several girls there over the span of those two or three summers. Some I called. Some I dated. Some I only smiled at. Then Ben had to get a real job and that part of my life was over, although it didn’t seem like a big deal at the time.

Anyway, I hope maybe this brought to mind some fond memories for you. When and if you have time, I hope you’ll read some of the previous posts I have linked to, I rather like a couple of them.

Farewell, Summer. Thanks for the memories. See ya in a few months.

“Purple hulls and pintos, I’ve shelled more than my share, as lightnin’ bugs and crickets danced in the evenin’ air…”