Letter to Rob, age 20, From Rob, age 35.

Dear Rob,

Congratulations, Kid... you will indeed make it to age 35, where you will meet a time traveling version of yourself from further in the future who refused to tell me at what age I will (that is... you will... or maybe it’s he did) travel through time. Anyway, he will make contact with your future self (i.e. me) and offer to take a letter further into the past (i.e. to you). Of course, I kind of feel like I’m just talking to myself, and I’m sure you’ll understand that the older version of us gave me, (the middle aged version of us) a huge protacted speech about the temporal prime directive, knowing full well I’ll only loosely pay attention to it anyway.

God, time travel gives me a headache... do us both a favor and pick up a book on temporal mechanics so you’ll be less confused when you’re me, and I’ll be less confusing when I’m him, okay?

Ouch. Head hurt.

So, young Rob... what should I be giving you the heads up on? I know that when I was you, I was at a very strange time in our life. I guess if you hear nothing else from this letter after our older self gets ahold of it and censors any information that could alter the timeline, it’s this: You will live to see some amazing stuff. As interesting as you find the early ninties, the next ten years or so will bring about much of the things that you consider to be science fiction.

Like all humans, you will experience your own triumphs and tragedies along the way to becoming me. You will wind up moving out of Your hometown to live in a city that is just as remarkable and charming as the big apple ever was. I would tell you where, but figuring it out was one of the things that made me the man I am, so you’re on your own. You will get married and divorced once by the time you’re me, but (CENSORED BY AUTHORITY OF THE TEMPORAL AFFAIRS BUREAU) . I know you’re probably surprised by that little fact, but remember that your life will seldom turn out the way you expect.

As you got older, your priorities changed, and your life changed a lot as well. You lose a few friends, and gain a few more. Your talent for drawing people to you is an asset that will never leave you, so learn to relax a little, chum. You will have a lot more fun than you think in the dating department, or the way one of your future friends puts it a few years from now, “you have an uncanny ability to make women comfortable around you.”

Your future wife will be an amazing person. Her name is (CENSORED BY AUTHORITY OF THE TEMPORAL AFFAIRS BUREAU) Unfortunately, she will also bring to light one of your personal greatest fears. Think “the Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald” and I think you’ll get what I mean without the temporal police beating down my door. Still, don’t be too disturbed by this. By the time you’re me, you’ll realize that the experiences that you have make you the man you are... and everyone has their own cross to bear. You will come out of it all a stronger person, and when a friend of yours says “you are closer to the end of this mess than the begining” try to listen!

When you go to on a trip to Utah in (CENSORED BY AUTHORITY OF THE TEMPORAL AFFAIRS BUREAU) , you will (CENSORED BY AUTHORITY OF THE TEMPORAL AFFAIRS BUREAU)and(CENSORED BY AUTHORITY OF THE TEMPORAL AFFAIRS BUREAU) but if you (CENSORED BY AUTHORITY OF THE TEMPORAL AFFAIRS BUREAU) Remember that the bats dont have rabies, which means that (CENSORED BY AUTHORITY OF THE TEMPORAL AFFAIRS BUREAU) So, make sure you find Jesus before all this happens, okay?

Oh, and in the presidential election of 1992, bet all your money on (CENSORED BY AUTHORITY OF THE TEMPORAL AFFAIRS BUREAU). Vegas gave some great odds on that one.

Well, Good luck Rob... see you in the mirror in fifteen years.

been a long week...

Well, I guess the more things change the more they stay the same. The Ex went missing again saturday morning, and after a few days of worry, was sighted in the shereveport area. Now, by all legalities and moral reasoning, this was no longer my problem. Unfortunately, my hero complex invoulentarily kicked in, and I drove the six hours up to Shereveport to look for her.

The cops caught up with her before I did, and put her in the hospital about the same time I got there. I guess it was a good thing I was there, because she wasn't real co-operative with the medical history and such.

Of course, now I wonder to myself how many times am I gonna come charging to the rescue for her before I manage to supress this weird instinct of mine to do so. All the talk I do about moving on will be useless if I keep making her my responsibility.

“Thousands of letters! All to Santa Claus!”... YEAH, RIGHT!

In recently divorced news, I have stopped getting my mail. Charity filled out a change of address form so that her mail would reach her out at her mom’s, but because she filled it out incorrectly, all of my mail has been routed there as well. (Sigh) So, any female admirers that want to send me mash notes please wait a week or two until I can get them all straightened out, or just e-mail em to me at Captkahunah@bigkahunah.com. I admit, I’m a sucker for a well-written letter from an attractive woman, with or without the perfumed scent.

Anyway, trying to fix the problem was not what you call fun. On the list of Unites States Government offices that I want to avoid the rest of my life, the United States Post Office is right up there with the IRS. So I go into my local post office and explain the problem. The guy behind the counter just looked at me and said “Yep. That’s a problem.”. At this point I started to get that feeling you get just before your car starts to sputter on the highway due to a clogged fuel filter. So I repeat the problem to the guy, this time asking him what the heck I have to do to get my mail. He hollers into the back for someone named “Miss Charlotte”.

Now, I believe that names tend to influence a person’s development. For instance, “William Jefferson Clinton” wouldn’t have been everything you expect from an American president if he had a name like “Mortimer Dipthong”. A woman with a name of “Charlotte” is one you just know would find a turkey leg under her pillow, and then eat it while promising her boyfriend, “Billy-jack”, that she won’t eat poultry in bed anymore.

Fortunately, this Miss Charlotte was nothing like that. She was a sweet older lady understandably jaded from working in the Post Office for thirty years. So on my behalf, she calls the Post Office actually responsible for delivering my mail to my house. Their response: “Yep, That’s a problem”.

“Great. Just Great.” I think to myself, “Now that the Post Office in all its wisdom agrees that we have a problem, just how do I make sure I get my monthly issue of FHM? All that great stuff in Miracle on 34th Street about how serious the Post Office takes itself, and it being a crime to willfully misdirect mail still hasn’t stopped my ex wife from getting my gas bill! What happens when my issue of Playboy comes and my former mother in law passes out at the sight of it?”

Finally, Miss Charlotte gives up with the Postmaster on the phone. (When I said jaded, I meant it.) So, still sympathetic to my cause, she had me fill out a form changing my address from my current address to... my current address.

I know it sounds silly, but Miss Charlotte assured me she would send a personal note with it to the Postmaster general of Louisiana (in Baton Rouge) explaining my situation, and recommending that they fix it. She also hoped aloud that no one’s head explodes with the incongruity of the form changing my address to my address before inputting “Please send Rob his mail” into the Post Office mainframe.

One can only hope.

The wisdom of the Piano Man...

"You can get just so much from a good thing,
you can linger too long in your dreams...
so say goodbye to the oldies but goodies,
Cause the good old days weren't always good...
But tommorow ain't as bad as it seems." --Billy Joel, Keeping the Faith

Billy Joel, (for those of you that don't know) is one of my favorite artists. Just something about his music... maybe the subject matter, maybe the earnestness that he coveys in his songs, just speaks to me somehow. Case in point, the Quote above.

Today I went to court and offically filed my divorce papers. I don't really know why I've waited so long to do it... maybe something inside me was holding me back, lingering too long on that particular dream, as it were. I also couldn't quite explain to myself why that particular song kept running through my head, but it occured to me that Billy is right. One can get so obsessed with a dream of happiness, or living happily ever after, that you don't always see the promise that tommorow brings.

I am officially free, and for the first time in months, my life stretches out in front of me like a new highway to parts unknown, full of potential, promise, and adventure. While I will probably always regret that Char and I couldn't make it work, A brand new phase of my life has officially begun, and I couldn't be more excited about it.

"Call me a joker, Call me a fool,
Right at this moment, I'm totally cool.
Clear as a crystal, sharp as a knife...
I feel like i'm in the prime of my life."-Billy Joel, I go to extremes

Billy, if you're ever in New Orleans, I need to buy you a beer.

a sideline sidebar...

Interesting note: the Cute blonde from last night's expedition came back again tonight, and was determined to get my attentions all evening. I was shocked as this is the first time someone has paid to go with us two nights in a row... I got the feeling that if I had been a little bolder, I could have had a very interesting night.

Being the gentleman I am, though... I passed. I don't know exactly why I did this, seeing as how it's been a while since I last did any serious snuggling, but I just couldn't somehow.

I'll be kicking myself for weeks.

An Update on my sideline...

In the Scooby-doo episode of my life, I have discovered that I am far more Shaggy than Fred, or even Thelma.

I have promised my new employers that I will not post things that happen to me or the teams in the house for the paranormal job, but I have to tell you all that last night was particularly intense.

Got me re-thinking the whole paranormal thing, I suppose. It is still arguably the coolest job I've ever had, and as I get more used to it, the less scared I am by some of the things that tend to happen on a typical night... But last night... wow.

I really wish I could go into more detail about it for y'all, but I'm sure you understand that I really can't. Suffice it to say that it got so intense that we had one team just out and run from the property in panic. (with me behind them like a schoolmarm yelling "No Running"... which was actually pretty damn funny now that I think about it.) It also got intense enough that one rather attractive blonde also wound up in my arms at one point. (Hey, she got scared, okay?)

Ahh... gotta love dem occupational hazards.

Crackpot Theory 1-Why astrology works...

I have a number of what I call "crackpot theories". These are ideas that have occured to me over the years, and I would love to research some day. Many of these I share with my friends and family on occasion... but I would love to get more opinions on some of them though, so I figure why not post a few here.

Why Astrology works.

Astrology is the famous pseudo-science that speculates that everything about you, past, present and future can be accurately predicted and is influenced daily by the stars in the sky. Apparently, so the theory goes, when each of us were born, due to the particular alignment of the sun, earth, planets, stars, galaxies, nebulae, and what have you, your brain chemistry and such was altered and influenced to the point that where knowing where and when you were born, a competent Astrologer can tell you loads about your personality, how you interact with others, and what the future holds for you.

Hogwash. The universe influences you about as much as the typical person influences it, which is to say, not at all. If I was to jump up right now, The second law of thermodynamics says that my action must have an equal and opposite reaction, which means that the earth must have moved by some imperceptible amount in the opposite direction, but do you really think the Earth cares? Much less the Sun, Moon, assorted Planets and such? No, they don’t. The butterfly effect is so highly improbable that it makes the concept of improbability look pretty probable to begin with.

Still with me? Good.

And yet, profiles of people bases on Astrology are sometimes eerily accurate. I have a theory as to why. I think it has a lot more to do with when your birthday falls in relation to all the other holidays and events in your life, and the effect these relationships have upon you as a person.

Case in point: My birthday is in early February, a little over a month after Christmas. This makes me an Aquarius. Now, any decent Astrology book will tell you that we Aquarians are good natured, fun loving, free spirited folks because our sun is in Aquarius, our moon is in the seventh house, Jupiter aligns with mars, and that accounts for it. My theory is that it has a lot more to do with the fact that we Aquarians simply had something to look forward to after Christmas (or Hanukkah, or Kwanzaa, or whatever your winter solstice festival is.) Think about it... while many are reeling in post holiday depression, we Aquarians are just gearing up for our birthday, avoiding that depression entirely. No wonder we’re considered good-natured.

Or, let’s say that your birthday falls in the middle of the summer... (Cancer, I think) the fact that school was always out and few of your classmates ever made it to your birthday party would have it’s effect over the years making you a little more self-reliant. Or say, early November (Scorpio)... your birthday is followed almost immediately by the holidays, making you a little bit more outspoken than most.

Any good astrologer will ask you not only when but where you were born. This is to adjust for the predominant Holidays of the culture around you. For instance, here in New Orleans, the natives start gearing up for Mardi Gras right after New Years, as a result, Aquarians here are even more laid back than usual, as are the rest of the signs. All because of the effect of the predominant culture on the individual’s psyche, not the stars. So, even if you don’t celebrate Christmahanukwanzakah yourself, the spirit of such events is infectious, and has an effect on you.

So, how can they predict the future so well? Cold reading. Gypsies have been doing it for centuries. The past? It’s not a large gap in logic to figure out that someone who is laid back, outgoing, and charismatic will have lots of friends and support in his life.

Anyway, tis just a theory. I would love to hear what everyone thinks.

F&%@ing cat!

Some of you may have noticed that Alpo is sometimes here with our weathergirl, and sometimes not. When I asked our weathergirl, and the site she comes from about that, their reply was: "He's a cat. He's like that sometimes."

--Sigh--

A word from our management...

Well, after much consideration, we here at Dogs of Atlantis have decided to make a few exciting new changes to enhance your web surfing experience.

To begin with, we have added a spiffy looking clock to let you know the time here at Dogs of Atlantis headquarters. After much demographic profiling of our core reader, we decided boldly to go with a red clock. Any surplus aggression that you may feel as a result of this bold, impetuous color is not the fault of Dogs of Atlantis or Big Kahunah.com productions, but your own unstable mental state.

In addition, we welcome our new Dogs of Atlantis Weathergirl, and her cat, Alpo. You may recognize her from such video game flops as Mario's Dark Adventure, Dr. Brain's lab, and Puzzlina, the Magic Puzzle Princess. Bottom line is she works cheap, and quite frankly drinks a lot, so here she is for a steady paycheck and a weekly six pack. Of course, the Dogs of Atlantis management discourages video icon drinking, so she may be in for a ruse suprise. Alpo, as far as we know, has never appeared on computer before, but there have been rumors surfacing lately of a brief stint he may have done on the computer kitty porn circuit. We at Dogs of Atlantis believe that cats always land on their feet, so we are of course willing to ovelook Alpo's past indescressions as long as that paternity test comes back negative.

Stupid Cat.

Our last advancement is probably the one of which we are most proud. From now on, we will be employing the latest holographic interfaces brought back by our time travel team from the twenty-sixth century, allowing you all to enjoy your Dogs of atlantis experience in six dimensions, seven if you have HDTV. Of course, if it does't work on your computer, you will need extensive upgrades, and the newest version of Windows 2587.

We look forward to the public's feedback, and anything we can do to further enhance your Dogs of Atlantis experience that is legal in the lower 48 states, let us know.

---Dogs of Atlantis management.

Damn I'm smart....

Yet another great blog topic pinched from the Greek Princess
An english test


I scored Advanced. 100% Beginner, 93% Intermediate, 87% Advanced, and 72% Expert! Go, me!

You think you've got problems....

Now, normally, I don't talk about the day job here, because there are some that find my sardonic sense of humor a touch offensive; but last night something really funny happened (in a black humor kinda way) that I have to tell y'all about...

I work for a river excursion company that shall remain nameless. Well, last night as the boat was about to leave for our nightly dinner cruise, up walks this twenty-something blonde woman, in tears, wearing a wedding dress. She goes up to the captain with a friend of her, and after talking for a little, starts crying even more loudly. We do weddings on our boat, so I was a little concerned, and went over to find out what had happened. As I approached, I noticed that the woman reeked of alchohol.

Turns out, she was looking for the cruise ship that she was supposed to be getting married on. Specifically, the carnival Conquest, which had left the port about a half hour earlier. With her fiance aboard. On his way to cozemel, thinking she just didn't show. She wanted our captain to radio the Conquest and ask them to turn around and come back for her.

Took everything I had to keep from laughing in her face. Her friends were no help... one of them said, "it's okay honey... you can plan another... it's not like you're pregnant or something" The bride screams at her, "I am pregnant you a$$hole!"

I excused myself, and found someplace quiet to laugh my head off.

Been busy...

As you can imagine, working two jobs, particularly one which keeps me up past midnight every night, has been rough. I have been a little neglectful on my blog as a result... I still need to find out exactly what I can and can't post here about my experiences so far, so for now I give you the following...

Top ten things I say entirely too often: (idea from GreekPrincess's blog)

1) “Kiss my white, furry ass.”
2) “Screw you guys” (In the voice of Eric Cartman)
3) “Have no fear, the Big Kahunah is here.” What can I say...I like to make a grand entrance at work.
4) “How YOU doin?” I picked this up from Joey on Friends and can’t seem to put it back down again.
5) “Howdy.” I have always liked this better than “Hello”
6) “D’OH!” I picked this up from Homer Jay Simpson, of course, but when I do something klutzy, it invariably blurts forth.
7) “MMMMM.....(insert food type here)” Another Homerism, for sure, but I use it a lot. At least I don’t drool when I say it... well, most of the time. All bets are off on Mrs. Spanky’s Chocolate chip peanut butter cup cookies.
8) “Y’all” My Dad cringes when I use this southern term, but I would like to point out to him that it sounds much better than “youse guys”.
9) “Children” or “Kids” I have a tendency, as one of the older people of my little clique, to call everyone else a kid. Fact is, I’m not THAT much older than they are. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.
10) “I’ll do it” All of my various triumphs and tragedies have been directly preceded by these words. The lesson? When no one else volunteers for something, there is probably a very good reason for it.

Catch Y'all later with at least one cool ghost story, I promise!

My second job...

Well, folks.. I'm a little tired today, because I started training for a second job. Yes, that's right... I figure if I'm ever gonna start livin the life of a crazy bachellor again, some bling-bling might help. (mind you, I have no idea what the hell Bling-Bling actually is, but the girls at work say it all the time when refering to showing off how much money a guy has) I'm really looking forward to this job, as it is a fairly unique occupation.

I'm gonna be a part-time Paranormal Researcher. I have signed on with the International Society for Paranormal Research as a Ghost Expedition Researcher, which is doing long term field studies into haunted properties, and the psychic abilities of the general public. What this means is that for a modest fee, we take people to a genuine Haunted property, and have them conduct field research under our supervision.

How cool is that?

No Proton packs, no getting slimed, no ghosts doing the conga through the living room... but it's still proving to be an interesting sideline. I'm going on my third night with this, and I have seen and felt plenty of stuff I can not readily explain. I don't know for sure that the phenomenon going on in the property that we are investigating is the souls of the dearly departed, but there is something going on there, and I get to help find out what.

I'm damn excited. I'll do my best to answer any questions Y'all leave here in the comments, but keep in mind that I'm not supposed to reveal to anyone that may join us one night exactly what I have experienced so far, as it may skew the results of the investigation.

I can't wait to get the buisness cards that say "Rob Cerio- paranormal researcher".

Behind the bloggers studio...

And a hush falls over the crowd of students as The webkahunah takes the stage, to be interviewed by Mrs. Spanky... The Introduction is brief, refering only momentarily to the year The Webkahunah spent thinking he was an incan monkey god. Mrs. Spanky takes a sip from her water, and the interview begins....

Who would play you in the movie of your life?
Hmmm... John Goodman is getting on in years... so I have no idea. I'd like to think I would be approached with the role, but assuming I was unavailable, I think Oliver Platt would make an excellent Rob.

What's the biggest lie you ever told?
The biggest or the funniest?

The biggest.
That's easy... A certain well-known story about my past in New York that I have shared with my friends in New Orleans is a complete fiction. It's the only one of my stories that is untrue, but everyone believes it. I quietly smirk to myself whenever someone mentions it. No one has figured it out yet, but I assume that from now on, everyone will want to know which one. Not even my ex-wife knew it was complete B.S.

Which one?
Aint tellin, toots.

Okay you've peaked my curiosity... now the funniest.
I once told a waiter that thought I was someone famous that I was actually thinking of using his resturant as a location for my next movie, if he would be so generous as to comp my meal. (didn't work)

Pick one non-fictional person, dead or alive, that you would say is your hero, and tell us why he/she is your hero.
One NON fictional? that's tough. I'd have to say Albert Einstien. He had a way of making the complex easy to grasp that I really admire. Plus that, even though he was probably one of the smartest men who ever lived, he had a great humor about him.

What's the first thing you would do with $1 million?
Travel. Everywhere.

What do you love most about yourself?
Hey, what's not to love? I guess I most appreciate my sense of humor sometimes... I honestly crack myself up... why just the other day, I was going through some old flash cards I had made for when I took italian, trying to see how many words I remembered, (not many... generations of my ancestors are spinning away in their graves.) and I came across one which said "antipasta" (A term my dad always used instead of appetizer) On the back I had written, "Duh!". I laughed for ten streight minutes.

Would you like to be interviewed by the Webkahunah? ready for some hard hitting, no holds barred questions? then do the following:
1. Leave me a comment saying “interview me.”
2. I will respond by asking you five questions.
3. You will update your blog/site with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions. (Write your own questions or borrow some.)

Bipedal Locomotion...

As many of you know already, I lead a pedestrian lifestyle. Not in the “boring” sense mind you, but I don’t own a car, nor do I feel I really need one. I live in Algiers Point which is just a stone’s throw across the mighty Mississippi river to New Orleans’ spectacular French Quarter, where I work. I walk six blocks to the ferry, which takes me across the river, and then walk another six blocks or so to work. My total commute time: 20 minutes. In the French quarter is also everything I need to get by in this city… A grocery store, a video store, bookstores, and the major public transportation artery should I need to get anywhere I can’t just walk to. It’s a great lifestyle, and all the walking I do keeps me pretty fit for a fat guy.

Still, there are those among us who wonder how on earth I could possibly get by without a car. To them I say this:

The Webkahunah’s top ten reasons it rocks not to have a car-

1) Those Geico commercials are a whole lot funnier when you don’t actually have to worry about switching car insurance.
2) If I find myself running out of fuel, I can just stop at any McDonalds, Which is far more entertaining than your average gas station.
3) The fluctuations in the price of gas due to the war in the middle east don’t bother me in the slightest
4) I can act smug around folks who drive SUV’s or pickup trucks. (Spanky, Fratnip, Dynoman, I’m looking at you!)
5) The only gas I need to worry about is the kind that comes after eating too much of Mrs. Spanky’s Salsa Sausage Mushroom Cheese Dip.
6) When going on long road trips, it’s never my car that breaks down in the middle of Alabama, where the tow truck driver is also the town plumber and the town mayor; and it’s never my girlfriend that has to offer the mechanic sexual favors to fix the damn starter. (True story! Potsie’s car and girlfriend!)
7) Being in touch with nature makes me get sick less. My body has a chance to adjust to climate change instead of going from heated house to cold outside to heated car to cold outside to heated workplace. If it’s cold outside, fine… my body adjusts.
8) It’s a lot easier to convince a woman to take a romantic walk with you if that’s really the only option.
9) No car to park means I never have to pay for parking.
10) Driving is a lot more special and fun when you don’t have to do it all the time.


This entry is dedicated to my buddy JavaFooFoo who recently lost her wheels and… Well, I’m sure she’ll write about it in her blog. Here for ya, FooFoo.

The Zen of the blog...

Why blog? I ask myself from time to time… I mean, why do I sit here in front of the computer, with no reward other than a sense of personal satisfaction of seeing the words on the screen?

To be a true blogger, I think you need to be a little conceited. I mean, why on earth, (says the left side of my brain to the right…) would anyone be interested in what you have to say? Who cares that the guy in the laundromat gave you a funny look when you pulled the red shirt out of the machine with all of your whites (now pinks)? Why should the public want to know what your favorite movies are? Or that you once accidentally ate some expired cheese? And who in their right mind cares that you once saw a 2000 lb groundhog? (it was made of cement. The Webkahunah loves tacky tourist traps.)

Furthermore, why on Earth do I write it all down to begin with? Part of why I blog is the Zen thing… the destination I get to when I write is unimportant. The joy is in the personal journey I have to go through to get there. I know that part of me also views blogging as a cheap alternative to therapy. Getting it all out of my system in a public forum, with the presupposed anonymity of my internet alter-ego, acts as a catharsis to my wounded psyche.

Wow. That’s a mouthful. Had no idea I was that erudite.

Anyway, I sometimes also wonder why y’all read what I post here. When I first started this, I figured my readers would be just the core group of my friends, and it surprised me when others started coming up to me saying “Hey, I read such and such on your blog…” Perhaps it has to do with the same phenomenon that causes reality T.V. to be so popular here in the U.S.A.. To me, those shows have always been like watching an auto accident… you feel bad for those involved, but are really glad it ain’t you. It could also be the “Dancing monkey” effect, where you continue to watch because the scene because it has so many inherent comedic elements. (The monkey, the monkey’s hat, the Italian stereotype grinding a little music box, etc…) Maybe it’s the “lion tamer” effect, where you watch because you just know at some point the lion is gonna do something unexpected, like maul the tamer. Or maybe it’s the “Billy Joel/Christie Brinkley” effect, where hot chicks are attracted to homely guys that can string a few words together and make the words sound pretty.

Nah… that’s just wishful thinking on my part.

Well I don’t know why you come here, but I do want to thank all of you that check in here on a regular basis. I recently added a counter to the blog, and was stunned to find out just how many regular readers pass through here. Thank you all for reading, and I will continue to try to entertain you in the future.

An open letter to the women of the world....

Ladies,

It has recently come to my attention surfing many blogs that you regard most of my half of the species as "shmucks", "jerks", "a$$#oles", or "douchebags". I would like to take this opportunity to refute this. Quite frankly, there are many of us out here that find the actions of this small but apparently vocal minority just as disturbing as you do. And we nice, respectable guys (Who women always tell us that they're looking for) can never seem to land neither Intelligent, smart, funny women, nor even skanky bimbos (not that we'd want to mind you...). So, I ask you, ladies of planet Earth, why is it that if you all find these guys so reprehensible, do they seem to get all the action?

Case in point: I have a friend, (well, aqaintance really) who we'll call "Potsie". Potsie is the very definition of the term A$$#ole. He is mean-spirited, condesending, vain, self-centered, a serial cheat, coniving, a user, and in all other ways the type of guy women are always complaining about. He has little regard for the feelings of any human being other than his own. Potsie is the type who would date a girl, just to have the opportunity to nail her sister. He is the type who would (and has) Screw some bimbo in his bedroom at a party whilst his "girlfriend" is crying her eyes out about it outside. Yet, of my little posse, Potsie is without argument the most sucessful with women.

I have always believed this to be extremely unfair. I think the reason behind it is Potsie's vanity... he is also the guy paying attention to the latest trends in fashion trying to seem much hipper than he really is, to my knowledge the only one of the posse to have plastic surgery, and he is one of the better looking guys in our group. Women talk a good game about valuing personality more than looks, but when you come right down to it, (with a few exceptions), Y'all want that trophy on your arm as much as we do.

So, my advice to all you women is to stop only checking out the "Cute Guys" in your bar, pub, night club, or what have you, the plain looking guy in the corner with his eye on you probably has a lot more to offer. Stop telling your guy friends that they need to get past a woman's looks, and try it yourself for once.

Braced for the deluge of hate mail,
Rob

Movie quote answer key

Well the winner, with an amazing 14 points is Drew! Dynoman Dave came in a close second with 10 points! thanks for playing, Y'all, and Drew, your prize will be awarded as soon as I get to it. :)

Now the answers for those of you that were wondering, along with a few comments about each movie....

1) I know kung fu. Neo in The Matrix- gotta love it when he and agent smith have their fight in the subway station. Probably one of the best wire fighting scenes ever!
2) I find your lack of faith disturbing. Darth Vader in Star Wars: A New Hope, while he’s using the force to choke the life out of one of Grand Moff Tarken’s toadies. My second favorite quote from that movie is Tarken saying “Evacuate? In our moment of triumph? I think you overestimate their chances.” Just before Luke blows the bejesus out of the Death Star, killing Tarken and everyone else aboard. My only question is why didn’t Luke react to the disturbance in the force of all those imperials dying at once? I am such a geek.
3) Strange things are afoot at the Circle K. Bill S. Preston, Esquire in Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure. One of the best time travel movies ever made in my opinion. Second favorite line in this movie is Rufus (George Carlin) calmly putting on his shades and saying “Gentlemen, we’re history!” as he activates the time booth.
4) What the hell is a gigawatt!?! Marty McFly in Back to the Future part 1. I also love the scene when Doc Brown answers the door with the big mind reading thing on his head. Another great time travel movie.
5) I’ve been swimming in raw sewage. I love it. Lieutenant Frank Drebbin, Naked Gun 2 1/2 – The Smell of Fear. Leslie Neilsen proves his comedic timing once again in this movie, and for months after I first saw it, I would randomly spout this line at the most appropriate times I could find. Always made me laugh.
6) It’s a primitive culture. I’m just trying to blend in. Councilor Diana Troi, Star Trek: First Contact. I also love the line after this, where Riker says to her, “You’re blended, alright.”
7) Did you see how the door sticks a little? I’ll have to get a guy down here with a can of WD-40. Fred/Tech Sargeant Chen, Galaxy Quest, right after he blows the guard out of the airlock. I recently got the DVD, and there’s this great added scene where Fred leads the other engineers on board the protector to a really tough technical solution by just asking really simple questions, like “what does that mean? Uh-huh... so we should....” classic.
8)Just Fly. We got... something. I’m not saying what. Just trust me. Air force one pilot, Superman. This scene where Superman saves Air Force one is one of my more fond childhood movie memories. I can’t wait for the next movie.
9) Illinois Nazis. I hate Illinois Nazis. Jake Blues, the Blues Brothers. How could anyone not hate Illinois Nazis?
10) What part of Ethiopia are you from? 123rd street. Comicus (Mel Brooks) to Josephus (Gregory Hines) History of the World part one. You gotta love Josephus’s attitude and flair. Mr. Brooks, if you're out there, I still eagerly await part 2!
11) What a surprise. I’m having a heart attack, I’m so surprised. Iago, Aladdin. Gilbert Godfrey’s voice over lends so much to the character. Makes me want to run out and do voice overs.
12) Never go in with a Sicilian when death is on the line. Vesilli, the Princess Bride. Just before he drops over dead. I guess I just have a thing for famous last words, but my being half Sicilian also helped this one make the list. I also love how he refers to this as one of the world’s two great blunders... the other is “never get in a land war in Asia.”
13) When "Pirates of the Caribbean" breaks down, the pirates don’t eat the tourists. Ian Malcolm, Jurassic Park. This line is one of the movie’s many redeeming qualities. As long as you take the movie and the book to be separate works, it’s easy to enjoy both.
14) Zed’s dead, baby. Bruce Willis’s character, (Blanking on the name) Pulp Fiction. While I could go on about all my favorite moments in this movie, I will refrain. Just go watch it for yourself.
15)What do you want me to do? Dress in drag and do the Hula? Timone, The Lion King. The fact that seconds later, that is exactly what he does never ceases to make me smile. I also cry every time I watch the scene where Mufasa dies. Does that make me a wimp?

thank you all for playing!

A truly all american sport...

While the Movie line Game rages on, (Drew is currently in the lead with 14 points!) I will pause to take this opportunity to tell Y'all about my weekend. Ringo, Buiscut and I headed out staurday morning for Brandon, Mississippi for a party at Spanky's. Java FooFoo was supposed to come with us, but the poor bunny was stuck in bed with the flu. (Hope you're feeling better by now, FooFoo!)

Dynoman, for those of you that know him, has created a sport that he takes way too seriously. The name of the game is Beerball. Basically, the game is two-handed touch football, (overseas readers- AMERICAN football, not soccer.) but the trick is, you must carry a full cup of beer or other beverage in one hand at all times for all plays. We gathered at Casa Spanky for the Spanky clan's housewarming party, and it was decided by the hosts that their backyard was the perfect beerball arena. It was a sunny day, and we were ready for a clasic gridiron showdown.

The first thing for us to do was pick a referee, and according to the official beerball league rules (I told you Dynoman takes this whole thing much too seriously) the person inn attendance with the least amount of knowledge about football is the ref, so it turned out to be Buiscuit. we separated into two teams, and laid out a few ground rules...

Rule 1- spilling your beer is a penalty to be determined by the ref.
Rule 2- The ref can pick any other behavior she chooses to call a penalty on.
Rule 3- the Quarterback had to be female.

team 1- (the Dynoman Drunkards) were me, Dynoman, Ringo, Mrs. Spanky's sister, and a friend of Spanky's from work, whose name escapes me, but we called him "Secret weapon"
Team 2- (the Spanky Spillers) Were Mrs. Spanky, Spanky, Mrs. Spanky's Kid brother, Lyric, and one of Spanky's neighbors that we named "Weapon of Mass Destruction"

Buiscuit got into her role as ref, blowing the whistle for all kinds of things... "thirty yard penalty for not being nice" was my favorite, but she was replaced in the second half by Dynoman's Wife, who got pretty inventive with her penalties... At one point, Dynoman had to do an entire play on his knees. He Rushed WMD and basically held him there. It was great! The Spanky Spillers had an immediate advantage in that The Kid brother was two young to drink beer, and played the entire game sober.

My team lost miserably, (24 to 11, I think) but by the end, everyone in attendance was laughing, having fun, and soaked in spilled beer. Quite frankly, that's what good sports are all about.

The movie line game....

The following lines come from the Webkahunah’s favorite movies of all time. A Prize* will be awarded to the person who identifies the most, first. No cheating by using Google, (or any other search engine) please. Ones that have been correctly guessed will be put into bold print, and the first person to guess it will get a point. An extra point will be awarded if you can identify the character, as well. The person with the most points at the end of the week will be the winner.

1) I know kung fu.
2) I find your lack of faith disturbing.
3) Strange things are afoot at the Circle K.
4) What the hell is a gigawatt!?!
5) I’ve been swimming in raw sewage. I love it.
6) It’s a primitive culture. I’m just trying to blend in.
7) Did you see how the door sticks a little? I’ll have to get a guy down here with a can of WD-40.
8) Just Fly. We got... something. I’m not saying what. Just trust me.
9) Illinois Nazis. I hate Illinois Nazis.
10) What part of Ethiopia are you from? 123rd street.
11) What a surprise. I’m having a heart attack, I’m so surprised.
12) Never go in with a Sicilian when death is on the line.
13) When "Pirates of the Caribbean" breaks down, the pirates don’t eat the tourists.
14) Zed’s dead, baby.
15) What do you want me to do? Dress in drag and do the Hula?

*Prize yet to be determined by Dogs of Atlantis management, and, should the winner not reside in the New Orleans Metro Area, to be shipped whenever The Webkahunah comes up with the fundage for said shipping. Prize may or may not be limited to whatever Mardi Gras beads are leftover from Robbie Gras 2005, but will almost certainly be more than just a little poodle made of said beads. Or not. We’ll just have to wait and see.:) The winner, and the answers will be revealed in a future blog entry.

My lucky dimes...

On my front stairs there rests a Dime. It has been there since October. I first noticed the dime sitting there on the first night that Charity didn’t bother to come home. I was sitting there on the stoop, trying to keep myself from thinking the worst, and I noticed it sitting there on the third step. I don’t know how it got there, but I do know that I left it there. I don’t know why really... maybe I was just too upset to care... but about a week later, as I found myself sitting there after a particularly intense fight with Charity, I noticed it was still there! I know it sounds stupid, but it kinda renewed my faith in humanity that no one had bothered to pick it up yet. It’s easily visible from the sidewalk, and you wouldn’t have to stoop over or anything. But there it was... Heads up, just as I had last noticed it. A week or two later, when Charity left for good, I stood out on the stoop, looking at the night sky, feeling pretty bad about my life in general, and lo and behold... the dime was still there. This time, the dime spoke to me of resilliance. It was hanging in there, and so would I. I know this sounds silly, but this dime has really come to mean a lot to me. At least three of my friends have noticed it, and tried to pick it up, but all have put it back in place at my insistance. All looked at me funny, but I had taken to calling it my "lucky dime", so they didn’t call the boys in the white coats. I gotta tell ya, That dime is a trooper. Storms, wind, rain, lightning... It’s still there!

So, the other day I was doing some cleaning (Stop the presses!) and I came across a small piece of paper with a dime taped to it. On the paper in handwriting that was not my own was written “Rob’s lucky dime”. I can’t remember where it came from, but it’s safe to say that it had been in that pile for years.

All I could do was hold back the tears and smile.

Mardi Gras 2005

Well, today is the day where most new Orleans residents take to the street for some annual debauchery, otherwise known as Mardi Gras. Seeing as how that other important holiday, Robbie Gras, fell so close to Fat Tuesday this year, my friends and I did our celebrating for both last night.

For those of you not from New Orleans, Lundi Gras, (the holiday formally known as the Monday before Mardi Gras) Is in many ways just as fun as the big day. More so even, as the party doesn't stop at midnight. The crowds are not quite as extreme, (as everyone is resting for the parades on the big day) and people are still having a great time without being entirely too drunk. Beads are flying every which way, Liquor is flowing, people are smiling, nobody has to work the next day, and a good time is being had by all. This of course was the perfect night to get my friends together to celebrate my 35th trip around the sun.

We started out in my favorite watering hole, the Dry Dock Cafe in Algiers Point, which is only a five minute ferry ride from the French Quarter, where all the Mardi Action was going on that night. My close personal friend, Dyno-man, had appointed himself master of ceremonies for the evening, and set up a camera scavenger hunt for the evening, complete with what he referred to as "barter bags". They included the requisite Mardi gras beads, some swag from the Mr.T collection, (I pity the fool what wears them outta Mardi Gras) and some chocolates. Knowing that the last boat back to the Westbank was at midnight, we knew we only had a few hours to complete that hunt, and return to tell war stories. We split up into two teams of four.

On team Kahunah: Myself, Java FooFoo, Fratnip, and Lyric.
On team Dynoman: Dynoman, Ringo, RedWolf, and Biscuit.

Our victory all but assured, we trusted the Chocolates on our team to Java FooFoo, which as anyone who knows FooFoo knows, means we were not real likely to ever get them back, and in fact, it would be the last we saw of them that evening. On the ferry, I went over the list with Dynoman to make sure we understood it, and to make any amendments. Among the things on the list:

Get a t-shirt signed by as many female well wishers as possible, (5 points per signature)
Get a photo of a team member with five women (100 points)
Get a photo of team member getting a lap dance from a complete stranger (100 points)
Team member serenading a woman or women (100 points)
an undergarment of a complete stranger (100 points)

Well, you get the idea. I added to the list finding another random member of our little circle of friends that had not shown up at the dry dock in the mass of people on bourbon street (to be worth 1000 points). Dynoman agreed, and that would prove to be his teams undoing. We ran into both Renffeh and Crack Monkey on Bourbon later that evening, for a total of 2000 points.

When we first crossed paths with team Dynoman early in the evening, I confess I was worried. They had a whole lotta female signatures on their t-shirt, most extoling my bedroom prowess. My fears were alayed when Fratnip pointed out that while it was a lot of signatures, we already had a team member get a lap dance, and I had already serenaded a woman, so we were still ahead by at least 100 points.

There are of course many stories to be told from that night, but I think I will leave that to others. Suffice it to say, that FooFoo summed it up when she drunkenly told me at one point, "You know, Maybe it's just that it's your birthday celebration, or maybe it's the company, but I don't think I've ever had this much fun at Mardi Gras."

Neither have I. I have the best group of friends in the world.

Robbie Gras 2005- Annual state of the Rob address

My fellow Americans and assorted citizens of the world... today, as some of you out there already know, is my birthday. I woke up, so i guess I'm on the right track. This has been a rough year for me, but I am very thankful of the following things on this great holiday that I have deemed "Robbie Gras", which is french for "Fatten Rob".

1) The McGriddle. If someone can tell me how they get the syrup in there, I would love to know.
2) My friends. It is said a man is known by the company he keeps. I must be known as funny, charming, goofy, spontaneous, moody, quite nuts, and occasionally whipped. Hey! wait a minute...
3) My marriage. I know what you're thinking... but I mean more in terms of life experience. My marriage to Char may have been painful, but i have learned more about myself in the past few years than I thought possible.
4) That I woke up this morning. As a big child, I was always told that if I didn't loose some weight, I would never make it to twenty-five, much less thirty-five. But if forty is the new thirty.... (Does quick math calculation... lessee... carry the square of sixteen...) Yep. Still beat the naysayers. Nyah nyah nyah!
5) That there is another year ahead. I eagerly look foward to what it brings.

All of you out there looking to celebrate Robbie Gras should ajourn to the nearest Pub with a few friends, and spend the night telling each other exploits of your daring-do. all the better if you have beautiful women bringing you drinks while you do so. Robbie Gras is all about bringing people closer together.

Happy Robbie Gras, Y'all!

An Acronym? Who knew I could spell Acronym?

(Acronym generator swiped from Rhymibear's Realm)

W	Witty
E	Energetic
B	Bright
K	Kind
A	Arty
H	Hardworking
U	Unreal
N	Nutty
A	Altruistic
H	Helpful

Witty... Definately. Energetic.. If i have enough sugar in me, sure. Bright... I like to think so. Kind...kinda. Arty... Do finger paints count? Hardworking... Well, hardly working at least. Unreal... Fish. oh, wait... that's surreal. Nutty... Oh, yeah. Altruistic... Only if doesn't involve giving up my cheetos. Helpful... Depends. To women who need to loosen any restrictive clothing or say, put on suntan oil, definately. (Just joking. Please don't sick N.O.W. on me.)

Name / Username:

Name Acronym Generator
From Go-Quiz.com

Top Ten things I need (or needed) to do before I die:

A few entries ago, I mentioned that both Metropolis and Graceland were on the list of things I needed to do before I die... well, I figured that showing y’all the update of that list might be good for an entry...

Top Ten Things I need to do before I die:
1) Work a miracle.
2) Solve one of the great mysteries. We are surrounded by mystery, people! Why are we here? Who built the sphinx? Is mankind alone in the universe? What happened to the Roanoke colony? How do they get the creamy filling into Twinkies? Okay... maybe not that last one, but you get my drift.
3) Travel through Time.
4) Drive a convertible up the California coast all the way to Alaska.
5) Leave Earth’s atmosphere.
6) Be a Dad.
7) Ride a raft through the Grand Canyon.
8) Travel through Europe.
9) Be recognized by a celebrity.
10) Pull off a great hoax. (Examples: P.T. Barnum's Piltdown man, Orson Wells “War of the Worlds” broadcast, The really famous Loch Ness Monster photos, etc.)

Things that were once on the list, but I have since done:
1) Save someone’s life
2) See Graceland and pay my respects to Elvis
3) Communicate with the dead... a blog entry in and of itself...
4) Visit Metropolis
5) Go to Mardi Gras in New Orleans
6) Learn to fly a plane and a helicopter (Fly, yes... land, very iffy.)
7) Learn to sail
8) Go on a trip with only ten minutes warning
9) Sleep on a beach

Things that are on the list, but not in the top ten:

Pee in all the worlds oceans
Write a novel
Be regarded as notorious
Become a folk hero
Run for public office
Twins :)
Make the world a better place
Prevent a War
Start a secret that historians will argue about for years to come.

So, what did we learn?

From the road trip, I learned the following:

1) I like Burgoo. That stew/chowder is the bees knees! And I like Mutton. Move over lamb, there’s a new meat in town.
2) A good road trip is all about the company.
3) Make sure the defogger works on whatever car you’re driving before you spend hours in it.
4) Being rich is no guarantee of good taste. (this explained a lot of Graceland)
5) Certain types of shrimp are more than capable of breaking a man’s finger.
6) My post divorce life promises to be interesting.
7) The reason Aluminum foil should not go in a microwave is because exciting the electrons in the metal can lead to electric arcing. And if you put soap in the microwave, it expands.
8) Small town America ain’t so bad.
9) No matter how obsessed you are with something, there is always someone who is more so.
10) Always be careful when jumping a creek, on wet stairs, or just getting out of the shower. Chief Falling Italian is watching!
11) Never trust a grinning italian, especially if he tells you that Burger king is running a special where if you walk up to the counter and say "I can spell Whopper" you will get a free cheeseburger.

“This is all Metropolis is in their world? Are these people nuts?” Plastic Man—JLA/Avengers #2

Well, gentle reader...when last we left our intrepid adventurers, they were headed out of southern Indiana after a rousing week of small town America, and into Illinois. I can’t speak for Spanky, Mrs. Spanky, and Java FooFoo, but there was only one thing on my mind...

Metropolis.

We had discovered on the way up to Newburgh that Metropolis was actually only about an hour or so out of our way. It turned out to be less than that, (Props to Mrs. Spanky’s Dad for the 411 on the alternate route.) but in any case, there was no way I was gonna miss the opportunity to visit the hometown of my hero, Superman.

Yes, Superman is indeed a fictional character, but this still meant a lot to me. You see, there is an old Chinese cruse that says, “May you live in interesting times”. Well, my childhood was certainly... “interesting”. It’s not like Mom and Dad were never there for me or anything mind you, or that my childhood was that terrible... Staten Island, NY, in the seventies and eighties was a great place to grow up. It’s just that life in our home presented certain challenges and struggles that more often than not left Mom and Dad with their hands full. I very seldom bothered them with the problems of my young life, and felt guilty somehow whenever I had to. To this day, the events in my parents lives that shaped the young Rob influence many of my decisions, particularly when it comes to my soon to be ex-wife. Anyway, the one thing I always knew I could count on, regardless of the emotional storms around me, was being able to lose myself in the fictional world of Superman. Over the years, Superman was always there when I needed him... his friends were my friends, his triumphs and failures echoed themselves in my life... and above all else Superman, like me, always tried to do the right thing. Superman was someone I could count on. Superman was my friend.

I had heard about the real-life Metropolis for years. The town truly embraces it’s comic book heritage, as evidenced by the twenty foot tall statue of the man of steel in the town square, the Super Museum on main street, and the Superman festival they hold every summer. There is a billboard as you enter the town that proudly proclaims “Welcome to Metropolis, Home of Superman”, and the town paper is even the “Metropolis Planet”! (Yes, I bought a copy) As we rode into Metropolis, I was positively giddy, and posed for a picture or two in front of the Superman Statue, before I headed faster than a speeding bullet to the Super Museum. (Only twenty feet away)

The Super Museum is accessed through its gift shop, which had a very impressive array of Superman merchandise for a Super fan to choose from. The funniest were the green painted rocks they were selling as “Kryptonite”. If they had had the silk Superman bathrobes in my size, I probably would have bought one... Instead, I got a key chain. Admission to the Museum itself was only three dollars. The Museum is the most impressive display of Super stuff I have ever laid eyes on. Every toy, statue, watch, clock, poster, or collectable I can ever remember seeing with the “S” shield on it was there, and many I had never seen before. There were also many props and costumes from the various Superman shows and movies. “WOW!” I said to Spanky at one point, “General Zod’s Boots! Cool!” Mrs. Spanky was downright bored, but muddled through as she could see how happy I was to be there. As we were leaving, I asked the guy behind the counter who the collector was, and he explained that it was his brother. We chatted for a bit (Once you got this guy started, it was difficult to get him to stop! If you tried to walk away he would just get louder!) and one thing that surprised me was that many of the more impressive pieces of his collection (A copy of Action comics #1, George Reeves original brown Superman costume...) were not on display due to insurance costs. (A copy of Action #1 recently sold for a cool quarter of a million dollars) After stopping at the drug store to pick up a copy of the Planet, all too soon we were back on the road again, bound for home.

"if there's a shining center of the universe, you're in the place farthest from it..." Luke Skywalker-- A New Hope

A fitting quote, I think to describe Indiana. The drive out of Memphis was a long one, through rain-soaked roads and highways, with limited visibility because of Spanky's* broken defroster. Even a dose of Rain-x Defogger stuff couldn't overcome the moisture created by four adults in a car for five or six hours. Mrs. Spanky** was extremely uncomfortable about the road conditions, as it was in similar conditions that she once rolled the same jeep I was driving. I tried to take this into considerations, and slowed down a lot more than is my nature, but I would still feel her clutch the seat behind me everytime I got off at an exit. As we pulled into Newburgh, it was dark, rainy, and nearly impossible to see... And effect made worse by oncoming traffic. We met Mrs. Spanky's Dad*** at the local American Legion**** Hall. Now, I immediately liked this guy, and I truly understand why Mrs. Spanky says I remind her of him. We spent the next hour or so having a laugh at MSD****** basically trying to drink his son in law under the table, while trading dirty jokes with me.******* MSD's favorite was the one about the Fuckawi Indians, which he insisted I repeat to everyone new we met over the course of our stay, and each time I got a little more elaborate with it********.

But I digress...

We went to MSD's house, where we would be staying while savoring the sights and cuisine of rural Indiana. First impression... Fish tanks.

Fish tanks everywhere.

Apparently, Mrs. Spanky's Stepmom creates aquatic environments for a living, and there were more exotic fish in that house than I think I've ever seen outside an aquarium.
Over the next few days, I kept proving to be quite the clutz. The night we got there, I slipped on the front stoop... The next day, I fell getting out of the shower... The day after that, I fell face first while trying to jump a creek... Then I got knocked in the head by the tailgate on the jeep. Mrs. Spanky joked that I had angered the spirit of Great Chief Falling Italian. Her Dad kept counting how long I went without nearly killing myself. ("Rob has gone 12 hours without an accident... Oh, wait... There he goes.") After a while, I found my footing, and all in all, had a great time. Got to know Mrs. Spanky's Family, got some great food, ate Burgoo and Mutton for the first time, and got to go for a really pleasant walk with FooFoo.

But the open road beckoned to me like a jealous lover... And Metropolis was only a few hours away...

To be continued. Same Bat-Time, Same Bat-Channel!

NOTES:(those little asterix thingies)
*Over the past few weeks, people have begun to ask me why I call him "Spanky" There are two reasons... 1) it sounds great with his last name, and 2)Although others will argue this point, he kinda looks like "Spanky" from the little rascals.
**Called Mrs Spanky because she's married to Spanky, of course...
*** Called Mrs Spanky's Dad because he's Mrs. Spanky's... Dad.
**** Apparently some paramilitary group bent on world domination or something... Good thing that the bar in the hall isn't portable, or we could be in some real trouble.*****
***** Kidding about that last comment. I salute our nations veterans!
******Mrs. Spanky's Dad... Too long to keep writing it out...
*******Yes, I know several dirty jokes, but this is a PG board...
******** Mrs. Spanky was the first to notice this, and her uncle said he couldn't wait to hear the final version at the end of the week. Here it is... "Many moons ago, the great Indian tribe, the Fuckawi, had no name... Their leader, Great Chief Falling Italian, Upon whose bones rests the home of MSD, told his medicine man that he must pick a name for the tribe. So the Medicine man, named "Walks in circles", left the tribe and entered the woods with his squaw to seek a sign from his spirit guide. Walks in Circles... Well, walked in circles for many sunrises, until he and his squaw finally emerged from the woods to see the whole tribe gathered before him awaiting his return. He walked up to the nearest brave and said simply, "Where the Fuckawi?" Goodnight... You've been a wonderful audience

"The Mississippi delta is shining like a natural guitar"- Graceland, Paul Simon

So, we intrepid four set out on our journey into the unknown on a cold evening from Jackson. Spanky, Mrs. Spanky, FooFoo, and your humble Webkahunah. More accurately, we struck out from Casa Spanky. I was driving, as my rotund buttocks are perfect for sitting in one place for several hours doing nothing. It was a 3 hour ride to Memphis, which really wasn't that bad, except that the defogger in Spanky's jeep was about as effective as trying to reverse the course of the Mississippi by peeing in it. So despite the Foggy windshield, we arrived in Memphis hale and hearty, if tired. After a good night's sleep, we struck out for Graceland. It was raining.

To me, getting to see the digs of the King was truly a dream come true, And I refused to let the rain dampen my spirits. To be honest, I was a little disappointed when I first walked in. There is a living room to your right, and a dining room to your left... Not exceptionally large rooms, either. Not even particularly stylish. The sofa in the living room actually reminded me of the one that was in my parents house fro many years... Very seventies, white, with a kinda "faux elegance" about it. I guess I expected more from the King. Still, the next stop was the Kitchen, and I could only guess how many deep fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches were made there. You then get a quick glimpse of the Jungle room before you head into the basement.

That's right, Ladies and Gents... I was in Elvis's basement. The basement has two really gaudy rooms. The TV room was in a yellow and blue motif, and there are three T.V.s. Apparently, Elvis once heard that president Johnson watched all three network news shows at the same time, and decided that he should do the same.

The next room was the gaudiest thing I had ever seen. To decorate his pool room, Elvis used 230 yards of patterned fabric. FooFoo remarked that "It was like being inside paisley" I felt so closed in... Like I was trapped in a poorly made leisure suit two sizes too small.

then you go upstairs for my favorite room... The Jungle Room. It should be noted that the Jungle room gets it's name from it's subtle jungle motif... Not from the green shag carpeting that cover the floor and the ceiling.

You can take the boy out of the trailer park....

From there, you actually leave the house, and move on to the colonel's office, and elvis's trophy rooms. The tour ends at his grave. It was a somber moment for us all.

Well, except for Mrs. Spanky, who looked bored silly, and was stoked about seeing her family that night. The Open road still beckoned... And with the rain stretching all along our driving route, I knew it wasn't gonna be easy.

To Be Continued... Same bat-time, same bat-channel!

We interupt this broadcast...

WARNING: IF YOU HAVE A LOW TOLERANCE FOR MY WHINING, SKIP THIS POST. -Dogs of Atlantis Management
The rest of the Road trip story will have to wait for a little while, as there is something I need to write about, if only to clear it from my mind for a while. I promise that we will return to our regularly scheduled levity after this post, and I swear it will be worth it.

As many of you know, I am in the process of divorcing my wife. What you may or may not know, is that I bear an enormous emount of guilt for this. Not anything like "I cheated on her" or "I didn't pay attention to her" guilt, or even "I never helped out around the house" guilt, which you might expect from a slovenly individual such as myself.

Nope, instead, I have the "I just couldn't cut it" guilt.

You see, Char developed a mental illness, and the major reason we are no longer together is that I don't feel strong enough to cope with it for the rest of my life. Mental illness has touched my loved ones many times during my stint on this planet, and I simply cannot handle it being someone as close to me as my wife.
I have done a lot of soul searching this week (hey... I was in rural indiana! what the F#@k else was there to do?) and I find this inability to cope to be a serious weakness in my character. Now, I don't want to hear "But Rob, that's certainly understandable" or any one of a thousand other platitudes I have listened to from well meaning friends and family since this whole thing began. Y'all are welcome to think whatever you want about me, but I find myself lacking here. What it comes down to is that I have deeply hurt someone I love because I couldn't cope with a defect in her personality. On a very deep level, there is a big part of me that cannot excuse this action, nor forgive myself for it. Maybe I took my vows too seriously, and maybe I just have an over-developed sense of responsibility, but I lean toward the idea that there is part of me that not only needs to feel like I've done the right thing, but that also thinks that bearing that albatross is worth it somehow. Maybe I still have issues with the illness in my family. Maybe it has to do with my own fears of developing one. A lot of maybes, too few answers, and a brick of guilt in my stomach the size of Rhode Island.

So, what do I do? I still obviously love her... I think about her all the time, I find myself wishing that she was by my side constantly, even if it's only to complain about something, and even after these many months I still find myself in stores holding things in my hand saying "This would make a great gift for her."

Silly, really.

One things for damn sure... the guilt I feel over this is gonna eat me alive if I don't do something about it. I can't move on with my life until I do... and I certainly can't give my heart to another if Charity still has it. I don't want to be one of those guys who whines about his marriage all the time, much less whines about his divorce all the time, but it appears that that's exactly what is happening to me. I don't want to feel selfish, but that's exactly what I have been. I don't want to feel regret over my relationship with Char, but I do. And I certainly don't want to be alone in this.

But I am, aren't I? And maybe that's what it's all coming down to here. My friends and family are wonderful, and I thank you all for being as supportive during this time as you have been, but I'm the guy that has to look at myself in the mirror each morning, and convince myself that I've done the right thing. I'm the guy that has to sleep easily at the end of the day. I'm the guy that has to come up with reasons to get out of bed each morning.

For the first time in years, I'm the guy that has to face my journey alone, and that saddens me.

"What a long, strange trip it's been"- The Greatful Dead, 'Truckin'

So, where have I been these past few days? Two words for you, gentle reader:
ROAD TRIP!
And not some mamby-pamby "hey, lets go to the beach for a day or two" either. I'm a-talkin a serious, fun, seriously fun trip into parts unknown. A road trip full of good friends, fun times, lotsa laughter, long hours behind the wheel of a car, just enough pranks and unusual events to keep it interesting, and of course nearly injuring myself a few times.
After all, what's a road trip if no one nearly winds up in the hospital, right? Especially your humble Webkahunah! But I'll get to that later.
First off... The damage:
States visited- Mississippi, Arkansas, Missouri, Indiana, Kentucky, Tennessee and Illinois.
American icons visited- Elvis and Superman (was this a Rob road trip or what?)
Things I can check off my list of things I needed to do before I die- Visit Graceland and Metropolis.
The players- Your ever so humble Webkahunah, Spanky the boy wonder, Mrs. Spanky, and Java Foo Foo

So, lets make with the documenting, shall we? This will probably just be part one of many, further proof of an excellent road trip. To begin, Originally, the road trip was simple... Visit Mrs. Spanky's Dad in Indiana. I was invited along as an afterthought, sort of a "Hey, you could use a few days in the middle of nowhere... wanna come along?" Kinda thing. FooFoo wasn't even on the list. But like with all good road trips, that was about to change. First change came when I realized Memphis was along the way... And it could be possible for me to finally go and pay my repects to the King. (Number five on the list of things I need to do before I die)Mrs. Spanky and FooFoo go way back, and so it was decided that after picking me up, we would have a nice lunch over at casa FooFoo before hitting the road. Over lunch, FooFoo lamented having not been invited along, so within an hour, FooFoo was part of the team. Gotta admit, that on the cool-o-meter, adding FooFoo had to rate at least a seven... As opposed to the coolio-meter on which it would rate a shiznit. Graceland, Three good friends, (one on the fly) and "The Pranksters Handbook" committed to memory. This was shaping up to be one Heck of a road trip, and we hadn't even started out yet.

Of course, by this time gentle reader, you probably have a few questions...
"The pranksters handbook? Where can I get a copy of that?"
"If the plan was for three, where will FooFoo sleep? And furthermore, if trix are for kids and not rabbits, what will this bunny eat?"
"Pay your respects to the king? I thought Elvis was alive and living under and assumed name in Des Moines!"
"Superman? Isn't he fictional? And what is with those tights, anyway?"
"What's with the freakin code names?!?"

The answers to all these questions will be answered in our next installment... Same bat time, same bat channel!

My photo to the right....

I know that a few of you read the comments others leave after my posts, and a few days ago, JavaFooFoo pointed out that my photo is a little... Dated. Reluctantly, I admit this to be true. I mean, I still pretty much look the same, especially when I wake up in the morning; (Note hair, and reference Keelee's reaction to such in my Christmas post) But FooFoo has a point... The picture itself is over 6 years old.

"So, ya big lug... Why do you keep it?"

Why, thanks for asking, unknown portion of my psyche. I keep it for a few reasons. One, I feel it captures my essence in a way most photos don't. I look laid back, relaxed, a little silly, and most of all, happy. This photo is a reflection of how I see myself in many ways.
Two, which many of you probably don't know (Although Ducky might, as I seem to remember him being there when it was taken) The photo shows me in the bed of a very attractive woman. What exactly I was doing there, I am too much of a gentleman to say... But it involved a lot of loud noises. (points to you if you guessed snoring!)
Three, the photo reminds me of a happier, more carefree time in my life, when the hardest thing for me to deal with was waking up in time for my noon class.

Anyhow... I don't feel that I take good photos. So, I issue this challenge to all you readers... Find or take a more recent photo of me that meets some, if not all of the above criteria, and I will replace the one in my profile with it, and make sure it's used on my next "Vote Rob" T-shirt, which you will personally receive one of.

Extra points to anyone who snaps a picture of me waking up in the bed of a beautiful woman.

New Years Day, 2005

Well, my friends, a whole new year stretches out before us, full of promise and possibilities. I hope that the coming year finds you and yours healthy, happy, content, and having much fun. I could write today about resolutions and such, but the only one I'm making this year is to find balance in my much askew life, and that's not so much a resolution, as something I'm gonna strive for. So instead, I figure I'll talk a little about Realizations. Everyone has them, although we oftimes ignore them. I'm not talking about things like "Sushi tastes good" or "wow, it's a nice day outside only five days after it snowed" I'm talking about the really profound ones that you know that if listened to, could change your whole outlook on yourself and your world.

Me, I've come to a few profound realizations this year.

1)There is always hope for the future.
2)You always have a choice.
3)We live in a miraculous world.
4)The hardest route to follow tends to be the right one.
5)Cheese has an expiration date.
6)Everyone has a different definition of "Family".
7)No situation is so bad that it cannot be cured.

I want to thank all of my regular readers for all their love and support this year. Hopefully, I'll be laughing a lot more in 2005, whining a lot less, and this will be reflected here in my musings. Happy New Year, Y'all.

Christmas playin with plastic tauntauns...

Don't I wish. The best I ever did as a kid was play with my millennium Falcon Christmas morning, while my Uncle (Mike, I think) played his Star Wars laserdisc. For you younguns out there, think of an LP sized DVD. The year was 1980, And I also remember it because that was the year my Grandpa (Mom's side) and Uncle (Dad's side) got me the same lego star destroyer that I wanted... It was a lego Christmas after all. In my mind, it was the most memorable Christmas ever.

Until this one.

2004, as many of you know, has not been a great year to be Rob. Christmas day found me alone, depressed, with plans to gorge myself on a 22 lb. Turkey. But as I sat down to eat, the strangest thing happened... I heard children laughing outside... And playing! Now, I know my neighbors have kids, but they never play outside... EVER! So, like the poem says, "out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I ran to the door to see what was the matter" Or something like that... I'm sure you get the idea... Anyway, it was snowing!

In New Orleans!

On Christmas day!

I couldn't believe my eyes! My Neighbor, Keylee, couldn't believe my hair (I hadn't combed it yet that day) It was Snowing! All at once, I felt like a child again... The spirit of the season coursed through my veins like I had been freebasing Christmas cheer or something. I went for a walk among the big, fluffy flakes, amused by all my neighbors, outside with their families, enjoying the first snow in new Orleans in over ten years. As many neighbors gawked, called loved ones to share this miraculous sight, and threw poorly fashioned snowballs at one another, All of the crap I've been through this year suddenly seemed meaningless.

It was Christmas, it was snowing in my adopted hometown, and I was the happiest guy in the world. Carefree stroller through A white Christmas in New Orleans. Proud recipient of an honest-to-goodness Christmas miracle.

Bing Crosby, eat your heart out.

Okay... Time to do something Profoundly stupid.

Sometimes dear readers, when life kicks ya in the nuts, you just have to say what the hell. I was sitting at home on Tuesday without much to do, when I decided to call Donald to see if he wanted to hang out. He did, but we were stuck for something to do. He suggested bowling. I Don't enjoy bowling much (once, I bowled an 8!) so I said lets drive to Jackson instead to visit Stacey and Drew. So we did. Throwing common sense, responsibility, and a touch of sanity to the wind, we took off for casa Sphieler not knowing for sure if they would even be home.

so, after the three hour drive, we sat in Stacy's driveway and called he to see if she minded having company. Surprised the crap out of her... It was great. Then we went out for barbecue, and had cracker barrel for breakfast the next day before heading home.

I feel so much better now.

One thing that this has shown me is that as much as I hate to admit it, my brother may be right. I do need a prolonged vacation. Soon. The stupider the better. Something to prove to myself that I am still in charge of my own life.

Okay... Enough already!

I'm lookin at you, God. You think I don't see you there hiding and giggling behind the sofa, but I do. I have really had enough of your messing around with my life for your amusement, you hear me? Capital E- nuff! I don't care for your freaking tests... I feel that if I have done something so wrong to deserve all this, there is no way that I have not atoned for it at this point. SO KNOCK IT OFF ALREADY! AND STOP F#@&ING GIGGLING AT MY MISERY! TAIN'T FUNNY!

Well the rest of you out there are probably wondering why I sound a touch upset. Long story short: Charity is in the hospital again, And of course she and I both blame me for it. I know... Not my fault... I was just looking out for me, right? Well, my selfishness landed her in the hospital... AGAIN! I found this out primarily because the hospital that she was being admitted to called me at work to get her insurance info, otherwise, I would still probably be boppin along in blissful ignorance.

I know that on some level that if Char can't be responsible for her mental health, then there is no way I possibly can be expected to be... But still, it bothers me that I seem to be the only one who genuinely cares what happens to her. So, if I don't step up to the plate with her illness, NO ONE WILL.

Now, the question is, does that automatically mean I have to? Does my obligation to Charity not only as her husband, but as a caring human being, a good Christian, and possibly her only true friend, mean that I put her needs ahead of my own happiness?

I am very confused... So I turn to the great male role models of our culture. Jesus would just wave a hand and heal her. Superman would try to help her, no matter the cost. Indy would kick some Nazi ass until he found an artifact which would solve the situation. Curly would wack her in the head with a two-by-four by accident. Nyuck, Nyuck, Nyuck.

Of course, the three stooges probably aren't the best role models in this situation, are they?

Oh, Brother.

Well, something interesting happened last night... I heard from my semi-estranged brother. I will admit, It kinda suprises me that I heard from him, but then again, I figure Mom probably had something to do with it.

I can hear that phone call now... "Ya know, your brother is having a really rough time down there, and it would be nice if you called him. LIKE, NOW!"

Ahhh, a mother's gentle persuasion. How do I know this? because every time something unusual happens in Jay's life, I get a similar phone call, and then I spend a half hour justifying to Mom why I haven't called sooner. Sheesh.

Anyway, I gotta give props to Jay; he did call. Of course, he then spent at least a half hour trying to persuade me that I absolutely need to leave town for a few days, despite me telling him that that wasn't gonna happen due to my life's circumstances.
Again, Sheesh.

Maybe it's the whole debate/forensics thing in him, but sometimes he just doesn't know when to let well enough alone. Proving yourself right should be secondary to making someone feel better, ya know? It amazes me sometimes how different we really are. I wonder if it amazes him, too.

Wading in the stream of conciousness

Well, I feel like writing today, and since my current screenplay is going nowhere, I figure a blog entry will help me get it out of my system. Problem is, that it's tough to write about something when you have nothing interesting in mind.

Robert Silverberg once wrote "Every day I get out of bed and step on a landmine. That landmine is me. I explode forth with ideas, dialogue, and exposition until I contain the whole mess on a piece of paper" Or at least he said something remarkably similar to that. As I get older I find my once photographic memory doesn't quite get the details right like it used to.

Anyway, I envy the man. It must be nice to know that whatever spouts forth from your brain is worthy of putting into words. Although, when I get up, I feel like I'm about to explode too... primarily because I usually have to pee.

Robert Silverberg I'm not.

So, writers block sets in as sure as the sun rises in the east, and I sit here typing out horrid cliches like that last one. Well, maybe not horrid, but certainly tired.

Anyhow, My life is still... Upsetting. But, I do think it's getting better. Sure this whole "impending Divorce" thing is hanging over my head and weighing me down to the point where I feel like just my hair weighs about thirty pounds... but all things considered, I'm actually doing pretty well. No heart attacks so far... and my finances are lower than I would prefer, but all in all I'm okay.

First time in weeks I've been able to say that.

Christmas is coming!

(cue little Japanese men running and screaming in terror)

Well, just like Godzilla, Here comes Christmas. The birth of Jesus celebrated, pre-packaged, used to sell everything from apple pie to razors, and wrapped up with a bow and a note that says "11th commandment- thou shalt not humbug".

Random thought- If it's Jesus's birthday, how come we get no cake and ice cream?

Well, I for one refuse to put up decorations this year. It's just me, and I see no point. I also refuse to be frickin jolly. I will not wear my santa hat, and I will not wrap any gifts for myself to put under the tree, which I am not putting up.

I will not suffer fools gladly this season, either. So, DON'T tell me "but, Rob... it's Christmas!" I really don't want to hear it. If I choose to celebrate the birth of the christian savor by cursing loudly at my chimney after downing several quarts of heavily spiked egg nog, that's my business. If my road to inner freakin peace has no exits labeled "Christmas cheer" that's also my business.

I'm sorry... I sound really hostile.

And that's not what the holidays are about. But, by the same token, they aren't about Santa, gifts, malls, presents, decorations, or even that sweetest of all mistressess, Egg Nog.

It's all about peace on earth, and goodwill toward your homies and honeys.

For shizzle, my frizzle. I've been watching MTV. Does it show?

So anyway, for the holidays this year, try not to get down on those who have no spirit, give em a hug instead. They, like me, probably need one.

Thanksgiving day, 2004

Well, once again this year, the time is upon us to give thanks for all that we tend to take for granted throughout the year, and many of us sit at the table in front of the turkey thinking about what we are truly thankful for. I'm spending this thanksgiving in Jackson, MS with my good friends Stacey and Drew. I know I probably could have fenagled my way into an invitation closer to home, but with all that has happened in the past few weeks, I figured I really needed to get out of town for a few days. To think, to clear my mind, to release the lingering guilt over the end of my marriage, and of course to reflect.

For me, thanksgiving throws me into an exceptionally reflective state, and I guess that's kinda the point, right? So, with all that has happened over the past year in my life, what do I have to be thakful for?

1)My health. No heart attacks so far. Although my friend Lauren pointed out just the other day that I could have had one and never know about it. Like I don't have enough to worry about, now I've started saying to myself "oh, NO! I feel fine! I could be having a heart attack!"
2)My carrer. Things going exceptionally well at the lighthouse lately, and the higher-ups seem to think I'm reponsible. Who knew?
3)My Friends. Through this difficult time, they have all been there for me in every way possible. I could list folk by name, but I don't want to leave anyone out. Y'all know who you are.
4)My family. We may be disfunctional, but when I think about how my "immediate family" has suddenly changed with the breakup, I realize that my parents and brother are a damn fine bunch. There are fences there that need to be mended, sure... but at least they aren't fifty feet tall and electrified, like the one with my mother-in-law.
5)Lastly, I am thankful that despite how she probably feels about it, Charity is getting the help she needs. The psych ward is no place to spend a holiday traditionally reserved for family, but I know that it may be for the best. I just hope that through the haze in her mind right now, that she still realizes how much she is loved...

Well, Happy thanksgiving to you and yours. May your blessings exceed your expectations, and may your turkey never be dry.

How did Doogie do it?

Doogie Howser, I mean... the guy would sit at his computer week after week, with something insightful to say. Me, I'm lucky if I even sit here typing, much less offer some true insight. Maybe this whole Charity thing just has me down to the point where I'm losing my creative spark and sparkling wit, But maybe I just need better writers.

Still, let's try the whole insight thing this week, and see where it goes, shall we? After all, my last "insight" entry was pretty funny... ("life is short")

This week's insight: No matter what direction you think your life will lead you, it will invariably have ideas of it's own.

We are just passengers in the car of life, folks... and someone else is obviously doing the driving. If I could go back in time, say fifteen years, and explain to my younger self all that has happened from living in New Orleans, to Char's illness, to the eventual breakup of my marraige, I doubt I would believe me. (much less the idea that I was testing a time machine)

In fact, I would assume that the time travel thing had driven me thouroughly mad, and would check into "wacko" insurance. So, of course, when I was twenty or so, I know what phrase would have convinced me... "Someone else has the keys." You see, one of Pop Cerio's fave cliches is "life is like a car, and you are the driver". Well, mine's a lemon, with a sadistic drunk behind the wheel.

I need to take away the bastard's keys.

10- If "A" Then goto "reaction A"

There are times in all of our lives when ouside forces conspire to unravel the carefully woven tapestry that is our lives. What I like to think makes us all unique is how we react to that unraveling.

But that's hardly true, now is it? We all seem to be hardwired to react in a very specific and predictable way to the outside stimuli we all face on a daily basis.

For instance... if you get hit in the face with a pie, your reaction would probably involve the following...
First, you would wipe your face... and be angry. Second, you would smile, and see the humor in it. Third, you would look around for another pie to exact your revenge.
My point is, we all would react to this situation in roughly the same way. maybe a little more angry, maybe a little more jovialy, but the undercurrent would always be the same.

But why?

Does "stimulus A" always have to mean "response B"? or is this just some form of conditioning that we have all been indoctrinated to? Why does getting hit with a pie mean we should laugh at the idiocy of the situation? and Why is the appropriate followup another pie, and not say... a shotgun?

Not that I've been hit by any pies lately.

Still, recent events in my life have started me thinking about this principle. Other, perhaps more relevant examples would be things like "if girlfriend or wife cheats" response is "end relationship"... or "If you get hit by a car" response is "you must sue regardless of injury"... or even "country attacked by terrorists" response "must go to war with everyone"

I think the true test of a person's charecter is how often they Don't go with the "response B". So, in the intrest of science... try this for a day: every time something happens that would make you say, angry, ask yourself "is this the only reaction I could have?" Let me know what happens.

So, what can I write about in ten minutes?

I have ten minutes before I must leave for work. So, when not much funny is going on in my life, I tend to write in the "stream of conciousness" style... bear with me, okay?
Not much funny has been happening to me of late. Char is gone, and I am alone, reading up on divorce law. I told her that if she ever needs anything, I will be happy to provide it if I am able to do so, but her Mom of course disagrees. (quelle suprise, non?) The other day, I got into a shouting match on the phone with Her mom that really unsettled me. I know it's her daughter, but she is having trouble accepting that our marriage simply isn't working out. she said some pretty horrible things to me... much worse that char ever has... and I just lost it and tore into her... New York style. I know I have it in me, but it's an animal I don't let out too often, and never without being really pissed.

The "New York" in me is vicious... and knows exactly what to say to totally pull the rug out from under a verbal attacker. My comments are not only biting when I get like this, they downright draw blood. I felt bad... not because of any injury I may have caused my Mother in law, but because Charity was right there, watching me do it.

Go figure.

Curve ball- Warning! serious topics ahead.

Sometimes, I just have to write. I write to clear my head, to hash out ideas, to cheer myself up, and to just get it out sometimes, when life has me by the proverbial balls.

This week has proven to be one of those times. I'm normally pretty good at keeping the happy face in the face of overwhelming sadness around me, but this week has been different. It's just too much to bear.

To begin with, My marriage is going through a difficult time, and more than likely will not come out of it intact. There's a lot more to it, but suffice it to say that neither Char or I are really happy with the way things are, and when that happens, change is inevitable. She's moving out tommorow. Perhaps our marriage was a mistake, i mean, we still are madly in love with each other... but as a close friend of mine recently said to me, "a marriage is not just about love." There are some serious issues that I simply cannot forget, get around, or otherwise forgive anymore.

Char is going to live with her mom. Trouble is, Mom ain't doing so well. A few weeks ago, she found out she has spots on her liver. For those of you that understand the implications of that, well... lets just say that it's difficult telling someone that you know may not see next christmas that her daughter's marraige simply won't work. I really love that lady, and she doesn't deserve this... but I know that after two failed marriages of her own, she does understand. She just worries about her daughter's ability to get by without her.

On top of that, two very close and dear friends have suffered a devestating loss, one for which I can only imagine the pain that they are going through right now. They both read this blog regularly, so guys... know that my thoughts and prayers are with you despite my plate being full.

Times like this for some reason, always make me think of my aunt Vita. This lady has had some of the toughest experiences I can think of... Unable to have kids, she adopted my cousin, who died of a brain tumor at an all-too-early age, and she herself has been diagnosed with M.S... But through almost all of it, She always was a rock, and one of the toughest people it has ever been my pleasure to know. She would always say "it's a test." And I suppose life is a test...

I just hope I pass.

"another day goes by, a fork stuck in the road..."--Green day, 'time of your life'

Well... My life lately has taken a few interesting turns, and I am continually suprised at where life takes me. I always like to feel like my life is kinda like driving a car, choosing your path along the way, but as I get older and "wiser" I realize more and more that it is far more like a darkride roller coaster (much like Disney's "space mountain") You think you know where you're headed, but it's all hooey. Things happen to you and yours that always change the plan, weither you like it or not. Sometimes I think the best we can do is just hope that the guy who laid out the path you're stuck on truly has your best interests at heart.

I can see God in the planning phase of it now..."I've got his great roller coaster idea... of course no one will survive the fifty foot cliff it runs off of, but what the hey.... Hey, is that Rob guy outside? he'd be perfect for this one."

But I digress...

There are a few forks that came up this week, most having to do with my carrer. I promised I would not bitch about said career, so I will just say this... I think everyone's carrer has highs balanced by spectacular lows. I had a great high early this week, and hit an amazing low yesterday.

"Fifty foot drop anyone?"

So I sit here, contemplating the future of my carrer. Do I follow blindly in hopes of success? or do I jump off the roller coaster now? Another interesting twist that came up this week is that I applied for a part time gig as a paranormal investigator.

I know... the buisness cards alone will be worth it if it comes through. Anyway, all this brings me to what is really on my mind right now.... My relationship with my brother.

"warning... serious topic ahead... please keep your arms and hands inside the car at all times, and enjoy your ride."

I know... I went from "a" to "24" there. I suppose a little explanation is in order. You see, The carrer issues led to the paranormal thing, which lead to me talking to mom about it last night, (you have to know her), which lead to her apparently telling Jay, which lead to the e-mail I got from him this morning after almost a year of not speaking to him.

Follow? Good. Let's move on. My relationship with my brother is... strained. Not for any really good reason, either... it just is. I believe that as we have gotten older, our paths have just diverged is all, and we have developed into two very different people, with very different outlooks, motivations, et cetera. This in and of itself is not a bad thing... The problem is that I don't feel that we would be friends, or even associates at this point if we were not brothers. There's more behind it I suppose... I mean, Jay can be mean, pig-headed, and more than just a little condesending, as well as arrogant and downright rude. I just don't enjoy his company, or the way he makes me feel about myself in his presence, so I choose to avoid him.

I can only assume that he feels much the same way, as the last time I checked a phone works both ways. Again... in and of itself not a problem, but my Mom is distressed at the fact that we don't get along. Mind you, She hasn't spoken more than a few words to her brother Joey in years, (for much the same reasons), but I'm the bad guy for not getting along with Jay. Interestingly, I figure mom must have shared my little analogy with Jay, because his e-mail read in part, "we are not mom and joey". He's right... we're Rob and Jay, with our own unique problems, perspectives, issues, and coping mechanisms. One of them happens to be to avoid each other.

I know what you're thinking... "You must be this emotionally mature to ride this ride." Hey, it works for me, okay?