Foul & grumpy

Today I am in a foul and grumpy mood. I do not feel like being witty and smart and funny. That requires too much effort of which I do not have much today. So I shall wallow in my foulness (that suddenly sounded very gross) and grumpiness until such time as I feel like smiling again.

Happy New Year, my ass!

Church on Christmas Eve

It's not all that often that I go to church. Maybe once a year. And Christmas Eve is usually that once a year. So this year I trotted off to the Sixth Presbytarian Church in Squirrel Hill. Here it is:

It was a nice service - as far as services go. Some carols, some readings from the Bible. A nice over-all Christmas feeling, and that's what I was hoping for.

Hope you all had a super Christmas/Hannukah/Eid and that 2010 brings you much health, happiness and prosperity.

My "friend" in Ghana

This was in my email's junk folder. For the life of me I can't imagine why it would be in my junk folder:

"Dear friend, (he calls me friend but I don't know who this fella is)


My name is Mr. Ahmed Owusu a branch bank manager here in Ghana. After several official enquiries from the foreign trade office of our Chambers of Commerce and Industry, I decided to contact you directly for assistance. (of course you did, because I'm a financial big shot)

I am interested to transfer in your country through your assistance. I am in Ghana presently and I have the sum of Fifteen Million Eight Hundred and Fifty Thousand US Dollars which I would like to transfer into your account and invest in your country if possible. (15 million? pocket change, mate)

I made this money (US$15,850,000.00) out of my branch office excess profit for the 2007 fiscal year. (are you telling me the truth? this sounds like some shady business dealing) I choose you because I cannot be directly involved for I am still working with the bank, I hope you can understand my situation and assist me to receive and invest this money properly as this is my only hope. (oh I totally understand, why on earth would you want to transfer it here through a bank anyway? they will only charge you fees) You will get 30% of the total fund as commission for your sympathetic co-operation while 70% will be for me. (30%? you are too generous. I'll tell you what, I'll do it for free, out of the kindness of my heart - my early Christmas present to you)

Please kindly get back to me ASAP.

Best regards,

Mr. Ahmed Owusu."

Now listen up!

That's right, a little "see say" action going on here. So listen up, and listen good. This is what I want for Christmas this year:

1. A round-trip first class air ticket to South Africa
2. A job. A FULL-TIME job. With benefits. Like healthcare. And a 401(k) (pension)
3. A car. And it doesn't even have to be a BMW Z4. But if I did get one, I'd like one in gun metal grey. Thanks.
4. A hunting rifle. I'm in SW PA. I wanna learn to hunt. And yes, squirrels count. I doubt I could ever skin a deer.
5. I want to have my gas switched on (in my apartment). It's horribly expensive here in the U.S. so I am holding off until the very last minute, until I can't stand the cold any more.

That's all I want. Nothing crazy greedy. Just random stuff.

Today at work ...

...my boss' husband told me I needed a hair cut. If I snip my locks, what will keep my ears warm?? Besides, my hair is the stuff of shampoo commercials. Soft, silky, shiny and all those other great adjectives they use.

And tomorrow we are having our Holiday Lunch at Schenley Park Cafe. If you happen to stop by, look out for me. I'll be the one who needs a hair cut.

Someone's been grating ice

Bucket-loads of the stuff by the looks of things. I woke up on Saturday afternoon (yes, afternoon, as in past noon) and this spectacle was beset before mine own eyes!

And to think, just a few posts ago I was saying what a "smattering of snow: looked like. Pffff. Looks like someone up there has been busy. But it looks pretty and it's moer se koud (swearing in Afrikaans).

These were taken around my little apartment in the east end of Pittsburgh. You like?

And then, the next day, the sun came out just to blind us all. Yes, it was still blinding white outside. But it was still mighty purdy. And if you thought driving the highway from Cape Town to Durban was insidiously dangerous, try taking a spin on roads like this.

One word. Brrrrrrrrrrr.

I was born and raised in Africa and spent six years living in the Middle East. I don't do cold.

This year, Christmas will be at my sister's house. Tell everyone!

My sister is an odd creature. She believes that certain things should always - and under no circumstance should this rule be overseen - stay in their place. She likes to organize, arrange, snap at, and make things so that they are just so.

Bless. She is indeed a special one.

And this year, she has decided that everyone and Hitler is invited to Christmas at her house. Ok, so Hitler isn't really invited, partly because my brother-in-law's family is Jewish, so you can just imagine there would be a little tension at the table.

But anyway, Miss Malone is having my mother, my other sister, my younger brother, my mother's love interest, my niece and nephew and her husband all neatly squashed in at the table for Christmas lunch. And let me tell you, she has put together a feast that would fatten up the skinniest African refugee.

I'm guessing there will be one seat left empty because that's where my bony ass should be. But alas, I shall not be there for Christmas. I shall be here. But I am sure that with enough people to start an uprising, her house will be festive, full and bursting at the seams.

... there was CRASH, BOOM, BANG!

Last night, sadness loomed in only a way that sadness can loom.

I arrived home to find my large, over-sized window flung open. Waves of freezing cold air came undulating through my apartment turning it into a cold, desolate cave. And then I saw them.

Years ago, when I was a marooding caravaner strolling through the dry deserts of the Middle East, I happened upon a small hut - quite like most clay huts one would imagine seeing in an arid desert. But in this hut was a lonely pottery thrower. You see, they call people who make things from pottery "throwers". I don't know why because they don't really "throw" the pottery (or clay). Otherwise that could get very messy, very quickly. But I deviate. I walked into this unairconditioned hut and parted with a few Bahraini Dinars for a few pieces of hand-thrown pottery. I was most proud.

My four pieces of hand-thrown pottery made it across the deserts, across the Atlantic Ocean, and across the vast plains of the American wilderness. And all arrived in-tact.

And last night, the wind blew the window open and the window decided it didn't like two of my pottery pieces sitting up on the built-in book shelf, so off they went. And now this is what they look like.

I was sad and morose for a short time for verily these are not items one can pick up from Macy's downtown. But then again, they are merely "things".

Pity though. They were beautiful. And at least I still have two other pieces left.

... I send off my Christmas cards

It's that time of year again - when I head off to various stores and pick up some Christmas cards for the chosen few. In a few days (or, if you're lucky, a few months if you live down in South Africa) mail boxes will be brimming with bright red envelopes, and inside will be a nice big Christmas card with handwritten words that would surely melt even Hitler's heart.

If you're fortunate enough to receive one such hand-written gesture of my holiday generosity, count yourself lucky. I only send out about ten a year. Not because I'm a Scrooge, but because it takes so much effort. Buying stamps, sitting down and trying to be all deep and stuff, then mosying on down to the Post Office and dropping them off in the big blue boxes.

So far I have received exactly zero Christmas cards this year. That's right, zero. As in zip, zilch, nada. But that's ok. Christmas is about giving - and for those folks who didn't send me a card this year, I'll be giving them a long 'what for'.

Ho ho ho!

... I explain what a "smattering of snow" looks like

Last week it was cold. I mean it was bloody cold! Cold enough that the sky opened just a smidge and some white stuff came down. Not a lot, mind you. Just a little. Like someone was shaving God's tears. Or maybe the Big Guy had a spot of dandruff.

Either way, there wasn't enough of it to stick, but it sure was pretty. And that's the only 'snow' we've had here in Pittsburgh so far this winter. It's odd.

... I trotted off to the Orthodontist

On occassion, I manage to scrape up the courage to visit the dentist. Or in this case, the Orthodontist. You know, the guy who puts braces on young kids' crooked teeth.

So yesterday, I went in because the tooth that was lucky enough to have a bit of root canal done to it has started to crumble - much like the Great Wall in the pic above. Crumble and break! Two things you do not want happening to your teeth.

So the jolly old Orthodontist - for he was indeed grey and old - described with much description just how said tooth would be extracted. This shall take place next Wednesday.

And because extracting just one tooth is not so much fun in itself, he also noticed that an impacted wisdom tooth two teeth behind the crumbling, breaking wall of a tooth has a little decay and needs to be removed as well.

Shall I have any teetch left? Why, yes, of course promises the Orthodontist.

"When we're done with these extractions, should we talk about maybe straightening your bottom row?"

... I people watch in the Louisville airport

So I came to Louisville for the weekend to attend a wedding. I've been to quite a few weddings but this one was really awesome coz it was in an art gallery. The alcohol flowed freely and so did my mouth. Maybe that's why I almost ended up going up to the hotel room of another married couple for some naughty shenanigans. But I was good, I don't do things like that :/

Either way, I'm now sitting in the airport watching people. I enjoy doing that. There's a Mom trying to wrangle her phone, purse, and hand luggage while chasing after a feisty red-haired toddler; there's the grumpy granny; the businessman in a suit (on a Sunday??) and lots of other interesting folks.

... I try to put on a few extra pounds

My visit to the doctor last week was to get her to change my current anti-depressants to a brand my therapist suggested. At this visit they took my blood pressure (all good), and my weight (not good, I lost two pounds. TWO POUNDS! Now I'm a borderline waif so to hear that I have in fact lost two pounds is not good news to me. For one, I want to know where I lost it from. My butt? Hardly, it's small and flat. How about my ears? Quite possibly.



Either way, my doc prescribed this wonder-drug, Remeron. How cool is this - one of its many side effects is .... wait for it ... weight gain. Is it time to do the dance of joy yet?

... it's that time of the year!

I love fall - or 'autumn' as they call it around the rest of the world.


The colors, the light, the cool air. There's just something really great about this season. I just wish the jolt between warmish to shriveled-balls-cold wasn't so damned sudden! 


Then again, just look outside and see what you see. It's so purdy.

...South Africa's crime comes to Pittsburgh

Ever been pistol-whipped? Well, now I can say I have. 


Twenty four years in the rape/car-jack/hijack/murder capital of the planet and now I get help up at gunpoint and pistol-whipped in Pittsburgh.


I had packed up the car with all sorts of things to take to my new apartment. My laundry basket, ironing board, curtain rods, toaster, new towels, etc. After several trips up the stairs and back down again, I was finally done. As I walked out the building door - cell phone in my hand to text my current room mate to let him know I was headed back because it was already 11pm - I noticed a guy standing on the sidewalk. 


And then I looked across the road and saw the driver's door open in the car. Now common sense would say, "Get your skinny ass back in the building!", but no, the sense was not so common that night. I walked up to the car - and the guy behind the wheel jumped out and marched toward me WITH A FAKKIN' GUN POINTED AT MY FACE!


A fakkin gun! Not a Swedish fish. Not a rolled newspaper. But a fakkin gun!


I opened my pie hole to shout (or scream like a girl) but nothing came out. Up came his hand and down came the handle of the gun on the side of my head. THUD. He saw my cell phone, reached for it and I instinctively threw it toward the ground where it slid under a nearby car.


As if by a miracle of God, my voice came back from its vacation:


"HEEEEEEELP ME, PLEASE, SOMEONE, PLEASE HELP ME!"


The would-be robber must have been frightened off because him and his accomplice hightailed it out of there faster than two bikers in a transexual stripper club. 


I managed to find my phone, climbed into the car with blood pouring down my face, locked the door, stopped shaking just long enough to be able to call my Dad in South Africa and break down crying.

I now need to go and give my underwear a private washing.

...I get to call it HOME SWEET HOME

So this past weekend I started moving my stuff over to my new apartment. I feel like an excited kid. New TV, new curtains. But of course, it comes with the NO PAIN, NO GAIN policy. I was one curtain short, the curtain was not long enough, i didn't have a screwdriver to get the TV set up.

                                   A rather dull kitchen, but at least it has a brand new stove

                                    This is going to be too easy - a nice new bamboo toilet seat and we're set!

                           Aaaah yes, my boudoir. Mmmmm, needs new paint.

                           Why does a skinny guy need so much space? Because he wants it!

                        Is this a sun room? Yes, it most certainly is!




Oh well, Rome wasn't built in a day, I guess.


But it really is very exciting.


Next I have to convince my landlord to let me paint the place. I was thinking a nice masculine coffee color, or some shade of tan or something. That puke beige is not so attractive.

... I heard a heart-tugging story

It was a busy morning, about 8:30, when an elderly gentleman in his 70s arrived to have stitches removed from his thumb. He said he was in a hurry as he had an appointment at 9:00 am.

While taking care of his wound, I asked him if he had another doctor's appointment this morning, as he was in such a hurry.

The gentleman told me no, that he needed to go to the nursing home to eat breakfast with his wife. I inquired as to her health.

He told me that she had been there for while and that she was a victim of Alzheimer's Disease.

As we talked, I asked if she would be upset if he was a bit late.

He replied that she no longer knew who he was, that she had not recognized him in five years now.

I was surprised, and asked him, 'And you still go every morning, even though she doesn't know who you are?'

He smiled as he patted my hand and said,

'She doesn't know me, but I still know who she is.'

 

Now I don't know if this story is true or not, but it made me realize something: one day, I want to experience love like this.

... I learn about the things people love

While heading home from the dark shift at work the other night, I walked post this LOST sign which was nailed to a street pole.As you can see, many nails have been smacked into the pole, so I'm guessing people tend to lose a lot of things.


But what grabbed my attention were the items listed on this person's LOST poster:


"Bread knife"


"3 Rivet handle black"


Sentimental value? Seriously?? What sentimental value can a bread knife have? Or perhaps I shouldn't ask.


Bless. I hope they find their lost items.

... I signed the lease, the place is mine

ALL mine! Yes, my very own home. A lovely little place with carpets, windows, doors, and a bathtub so small I'll need to fold myself in half just to fit into it.

But it's mine.

This shall be my new chateau, my digs, my crib, my huis.

And I shall be moving into the palatial space this coming weekend.



12 boxes? Check.

My bed? Check.

My cat? Check.

And it shall be but a stone's throw away from the new work place, in a nice little tree-lined neighborhood of Pittsburgh, so I am as happy as a clam. Odd saying that, "happy as a clam". How do we know clams are in fact happy? Did one of them squeal and tell a human?

Anyway, soon it shall be time to head out to buy curtains and furniture and a TV.

It's like a new beginning. And new beginnings are always good.

... the world descends on Pittsburgh

As if poor Pittsburgh doesn't have enough of a negative image around the U.S. and the rest of the world. Now folks sitting back in their huts in New Guinea will be watching as protestors at this year's G-20 Economic Summit raise hell.

News reports say that many downtown businesses will be closed on Thursday and Friday in anticipation of the protests. Hell, even Starbucks has boarded up many of their local stores. So no caffeinated libations for me and the rest of the addicts for a few days.

While I'm a firm believer in Freedom of Speech, it's sad that this Summit is going to be overshadowed with negative publicity about protestors and riot police. Seriously, how does a policeman protect himself from a flying piece of metal? That would piss me off.


But hopefully, the leaders of the world's 20 most industrialized nations - I swell with pride to see the flag of my little African home country in the line-up, there in the middle somewhere - will be able to put on their thinking caps, kick a few butts, and make some changes.

And hopefully Pittsburgh will somehow be able to show the rest of the folks in Howlong, Australia; Buttermilk, Kansas; and Wormwood Scrubs, UK that Pittsburgh has since shed its 60s image of a dirty, sooty, steel town and is now actually quite pretty. And green. And clean!


Hey hey, all eyes on us, please.

... my uncle passed away last night

Just out of the random blue, I got a text from sister down in deepest, darkest Africa a couple days ago. And yes, they have cell phones in Africa.

In this text, she told me that one of my uncles - who doubles as my Godfather - was in the hospital, that he was having complete organ shut down and was in a coma. The doctors gave him him between two and seventy two hours.

Like good siblings, my father and his sister were at my uncle's bedside the whole time.

Then last night, I received THE text.

"Uncle Den just passed away."

There's a certain horrible, saddening finality to death.

Even though Uncle Den and myself were never really ever very close, it's quite a jolt to find out that a family member is sick, and two days later they're gone.

I remember Uncle Den to be a quiet, intelligent man who had one hellava golf swing - when he didn't have the occasional bout of gout. He never married (some quiet speculation about that one, although it was never spoken about) and worked for himself as an accountant.

It had been years since I last saw him. But I guess I need to start getting used to the idea of family members leaving this world for the next. None of us are as young as we used to be, and the circle of life must keep turning. But it really puts things in perspective.

... I discovered that my work environment looked like this.

It looks like my grandmother's living room, without the doilies and those porcelain dolls with swirling skirts.

I received a call on my celery phone on Tuesday from the temp agency I signed up with. The short chat went something like this:

"Hey, so those interviews you went on, they liked you and want to know if you'd be interested in temping with them."

"Sure."

"Great, can you start tomorrow?"

Now this temp job is a simple one. I answer the phone (and people here always seem to get a kick out of my accent), I do the filing, I fill out the mail log when the mail comes in, and I log out the mail when it's sent out. I take messages for people when the people they want to speak to don't want to speak to them.

I realized that over the years I have learned computer skills, I have done my own filing, I have customer service experience, so I figured, "Why the heck not?!" The money isn't really amazing but it pays the bills. And it's a temp position - they feel I might die of boredom there.

Mmmmm, not so much from the boredom mate. That picture on the wall might kill me, but not the boredom. I keep myself busy.

But it's sooooooooo quiet in this office. You can hear a pin drop. When the front desk phone rings, you can hear it ring through the office. I work with six women. And an old man. And no one says a word. Very, very different to working in an advertising saltmine, trust me.

... people do the darnedest things

I remember way back when I was still in high school. Unlike in my father's day, we had pens and note pads and things.

I remember getting caned (yes, with a bamboo stick, straight on my buttock cheeks) on my second day of high school for not doing Physics homework.

I was by no means a genius in high school. Sometimes I felt lazy. And when I felt lazy, I wouldn't do anything. I quickly learned that there were repercussions. Like getting smacked on the ass with a stick by a man who had a chip on his shoulder.

Sometimes I would study for tests. And other times, if it was something that would have required an incredible amount of studying - like say European history in the 14th century - I would just try wing it and hope for the best. Some terms I'd have great grades. Others, not so much.

So imagine my surprise when I found the following news item online. Silly boy. Just plain silly:

"Ala. boy fakes kidnapping to hide bad grades

HUNTSVILLE, Ala. -An 11-year-old boy gets high marks in storytelling after staging a hoax to cover up his bad grades.

Police said the boy faked his kidnapping Friday to avoid bringing home a bad report card, saying that a man with a pistol snatched him after he left Ed White Middle School. The boy said the man forced him into a "beat-up car" and threatened to kill him.

The student said he escaped by jumping out of the car but wasn't able to grab his bookbag, which contained the report card.
He ran to his grandparents' house and later confessed to lying. His grandfather called police to apologize.

Sgt. Mark Roberts said police were suspicious that the boy was able to "escape" with his band instrument, but not his bookbag.

Roberts said the boy faces no charges at this time."

Now if that was me, I would have received a thrashing and a lamb-basting from my father.

... I decide not to get old. Ever.

It's inevitable. We're all going to grow old, have trouble eating, and suffer from arthritis. Hardly something to celebrate, but it's the cycle of life.

And some of us will be more prepared than others. Some of us have a wad of moolah stashed away in bank accounts in exotic places like Switzerland and the Cayman Islands in preparation for retirement.

Well, while I was a working lad, I too put money into a little fund. Here in the You Ess of Ay, they call it a 401(k) (God only knows why), but in any event, I religiously put away wads of cash each month into a 401(k) that focused on stock market investments. So today I inquired about taking that money out and putting it to better use - like a new sofa perhaps! I mean seriously, I thought it was only going to be several hundred dollars after the government got its sticky fingers on it.

To my shock and awe and utter amazement, there was an extra zero on the amount I have sitting in a little retirement fund. And yes, while sticky fingers government man will swiftly snatch away 20%, I'll still be left with thousands of American dollars! Not tens of thousands, unfortunately, but enough to pay off my student load so I can go back to college in January 2010.

Or maybe a cruise around the world.

Or four years of intense therapy.

Or a trip back to deepest, darkest Africa to enjoy braais and jols with my family.

Or a car.

Or I could do the responsible thing and invest it.

Oh the options are endless.

... my horoscope dances around the issues

So in other words, procrastinate.

I don't have time to procrastinate with anything. Silly horror-scope!

... I decide it's time for a vacation

And as much as a trip across the pond to grey, gloomy London would be more depressing than seeing yet another Michael Jackson Special Tribute on TV, I have decided to take a vacation from life and those around me.

It's not actually quite as dramatic as it sounds, really.

I've just come to the realization that I need to pull myself toward myself. I've forgotten who I used to be. I need to focus on my short and long term goals and I need to start regaining my independence.

As such, I shall be pulling myself away from social networking and blogging and friends and beverage houses of ill repute. Not forever, mind you, for that would be a very long time. Just long enough that I can be once again centered, useful, worthwhile, and above all, HAPPY.

This is going to be a vacation like no other.

See you when I get back.

... darkness sets in

I'm not gonna lie; these past couple weeks have been hell.

And slowly the walls have been closing in around me. It's as though I have the reverse of what our friend Midas had. Everything I touch turns to shit! Friendships. Relationships. You name it.

So yesterday I started seeing a therapist. One of those lie-on-my-expensive-leather-sofa-and-tell-me-your-problems kind of therapist. So I did. And these were her initial findings:

Childhood neglect has lead me to find inner strength in my independence to the detriment of building meaningful relationships. I put up a wall and dance around the issues at hand so as not to have to deal with them.

All very interesting. But how long before I can be 'normal' again? Oh, weekly sessions at $195 a pop should do the trick. And in the meantime I'll live in a cardboard box and eat from garbage cans.

But in all seriousness, there is some truth to what she picked up. I'm not good with people. I don't know how to deal with them. I get annoyed with stupid people and get intimidated with smart people. I screw up friendships and relationships, well, it's been so long since I've had a proper one that I don't even know where I would begin.

Maybe I'm destined to be single. And there's nothing wrong with that. I have a strong, independent cousin who has never married. She lives through her family (two sisters) and their kids and her work, and she is happy. And successful. I want to be like that. And no, she is not a lesbian.

There's nothing wrong with being single. Sure, a warm body next to you in bed feels great. But when emotions start getting involved, it all goes straight to shit, and when everything else around you starts feeling the same way, you start to panic. Which is why my doctor's office slammed me with Xanax. Let me tell you a little something about Xanax: they should NOT be taken with alcohol. I learned the hard way. I was out on my ass with nowhere to live. A friend reluctantly let me in and my drug/alcohol combination left me wobbly on me knees and I made a fool of myself. My fault. I admit it. I shouldn't have combined them. But I did. Now that friend is gone forever. Yet another screwed up friendship because of my lack of respect for others, drugs, and my inability to connect with people.

Life is just one sick joke. Seriously. And I don't think it's a funny one either.

... my life becomes one of these

Ok, seriously, all visual metaphors aside, things have been shit lately and I need Prozac or something to get me through the next couple weeks. So this past weekend, M & I headed in her airconditionless car to Kennywood - an amusement park just outside the city.

You see, M works in the media industry and got free tickets! Score!

So off we trotted. One roller coaster after the next. And each one had higher climbs, steeper drops, more dips. Yup, just like my life.

But with as much brown stuff as I am having to deal with, I refuse, point blank, to let things go off the rails. That would not be nice, or pleasant.

And yes, the Phantom's Revenge was my last ride of the day.

... my home becomes the Dolly Parton House of Love

The room mate has found a new love interest. Yesterday marked their one-week 'anniversary'.

In this time, they have gazed lovingly into one another's eyes. They have cuddled on the sofa. And the love interest has moved in!

Now I'm all for helping someone out - he lives at home with Mom and Dad - but to be told, "Oh, R is moving in for a while." is quite a thing.

I wasn't asked, but hell, whatever. As long as he chips in for rent and food, whatever. Seriously. But all this cooey cooey lovey dovey stuff makes me want to reach into the medicine cabinet for an anti nausea pill.

I've tried chatting to the room mate about the tremendous speed this 'relationship' is going at but was told, "Sometimes you just know!" Mmmmm, ok. Well, I'm happy he's happy. But in the interim, I'm waiting to hear this played around the house:

"Love is like a butterfly
As soft and gentle as a sigh
The multicolored moods of love are like its satin wings
Love makes your heart feel strange inside
It flutters like soft wings in flight
Love is like a butterfly, a rare and gentle thing"

Thanks, Dolly. Please pass the Zofran.

... I take my cat to the vet

It's way overdue. I've been living in Pittsburgh for about a year and a half now and the young feline has never had a physical, and is due for his rabies shot.

But there's a burning question: what exactly does a full physical of a cat entail? A thermometer up the bum? Deep breaths while the vet checks his heart for irregularities?

Well, we're both about to find out.

... my nephew turns ONE!

My bundle of joy nephew turned a whole year young over the weekend. And, because kids at that age have amazing memories, a big bash was planned for him. Decorations, dinosaurs, cake, juice, drunken parents, the works!

Hollywood should sit up and take note because this, ladies and gentlemen, is how you throw a REAL birthday party.

Not sure what gifts the young king received, but I'm pretty sure there was no gold, Frankincense or mur.

But apparently everyone had a good time. Come on, who doesn't enjoy cake and sweets and ankle biters?

And yes, he has a funny eye. Not funny in the laughing way, just funny in the odd way. And if any of you have a problem with that, come as see uncle!

Maybe I'll even get to meet the young king one day. You see, it's been over four years since I hopped aboard a large metal air ship destined for the dark continent.

One day. Hopefully soon.

Happy Birthday, B.

... I decide to point out the Rules of the Universe

Sometimes things don't go as well as we would like to hope. Oh hell, things NEVER go the way we want to. So I've decided to share my take on what rules might be able to help other friendly folks in the future:


1. Never, under any circumstances, take a sleeping pill and a laxative on the same night.

2. Don't worry about what people think; they don't do it very often.

3. Going to church doesn't make you a Christian anymore than standing in a garage makes you a car.

4. Artificial intelligence is no match for natural stupidity.

5. Not one shred of evidence supports the notion that life is serious.

6. A person, who is nice to you, but rude to the waiter, is not a nice person. (This is very important. Pay attention! It never fails.)

7. For every action, there is an equal and opposite government program.

8. If you look like your passport picture, you probably need the trip.

9. Bills travel through the mail at twice the speed of checks.

10. A conscience is what hurts when all of your other parts feel so good.

11. Eat well, stay fit, die anyway.

12. Men are from earth. Women are from earth. Deal with it. Embrace your differences. Love each other.

13. No man has ever been shot while doing the dishes.

14. A balanced diet is a cookie in each hand.

15. Middle age is when broadness of the mind and narrowness of the waist change places.

16. Opportunities always look bigger after they have passed.

17. Junk is something you've kept for years and throw away three weeks before you need it.

18. There is always one more imbecile than you counted on.

19. Experience is a wonderful thing. It enables you to recognize a mistake when you make it again.

20. By the time you can make ends meet, they move the ends.

21. Thou shalt not weigh more than thy refrigerator.

22. Someone who thinks logically provides a nice contrast to the real world.

23. It ain't the jeans that make your butt look fat.

24. There is a very fine line between 'hobby' and "mental illness."

25. People who want to share their religious views with you almost never want you to share yours with them.

26. You should not confuse your career with your life.

27. Nobody cares if you can't dance well. Just get up and dance.

28. Never lick a steak knife. Don't ask, just trust me.

29. The most destructive force in the universe is gossip.

30. You will never find anybody who can give you a clear and compelling reason why we observe daylight savings time.

31. You should never say anything to a woman that even remotely suggests that you think she's pregnant unless you can see an actual baby emerging from her at that moment.

32. The one thing that unites all human beings, regardless of age, gender, religion, economic status or ethnic background, is that, deep down inside, we ALL believe that we are above average drivers.

33. Your friends love you anyway.

34. Never be afraid to try something new. Remember that a lone amateur built the Ark. A large group of professionals built the Titanic.

35. How old would you be if you didn't know how old you are?

... it is what it is

I admit it, I'm a stubborn ess oh bee. But not just stubborn for the sake of being stubborn because that would simply make me an asshole. I'm stubborn because I believe in my convictions.

Recently, I was introduced to someone's life quote - IT IS WHAT IT IS.

Interesting take on life.

A friend swings your cat in a plastic shopping back from your rotating washing line. Why? No reason, it just is what it is.

You go to the fridge to pour yourself a glass of Coke, and you find the bottle empty - in the fridge! Don't freak out. It is what it is.

Now I thought there was no arguing with this very simple philosophy. I was wrong because I found an argument. Why? Because I'm stubborn and I have thought long and hard about it. I thought about it until my head hurt.

"John, you MoFo, you finished all the Coke!"

"Dude, it is what it is."

"No you selfish armpit odor, it is NOT what it is. What it WAS was full. Now it's empty. You finished it."

"Sorry dude, it is what it is."

"Get up off your sorry ass and get me some more Coke. THAT, my friend, is what it is. YOU replacing my finished Coke."

See? It is what it is is not all it was cracked up to be. The world is NOT a desolate desert of definitive endings. Because for every action, there is an equal and opposite REaction. I love the guy who came up with that one.

... two friends decide to get married

But this won't be your average run-of-the-mill kind of wedding. No, sirree Bob.

My friend N and his beau shall be tying the knot. And while this shall be a momentous occasion, it makes me wonder why the most industrialized nation in the world only allows/recognizes same-sex marriages three, yes THREE, states.

Then we have South Africa. A little bitty country on the tip of Africa that legalized same-sex marriage back in November 2006. And yet people scoff at us South Africans and ask stupid questions like, "But why are you white?" when they meet us.

Yes, South Africa became the fifth country in the world to legalize same-sex marriage, and is the first country in Africa to do so.

Makes me proud that I come from a country that open.

But back to my friend. I don't know when, and I don't know where, but he is going to marry another guy. How cool is that?

My only question is this: what would the minister say? "you may now kiss the ..... um, the .... uh ..."?

"Dear Life, I love you. There, I've said it.

I love everything about you. I love how you throw hurdles at me and have the knowledge and confidence that I will overcome them. I love how you are there when I fall asleep in the wee hours of the morning, and are right there when I wake up in the afternoon. You're like a loyal dog.

I love how you bring variation to everything I do, feel, think, and believe. I love how you question my goals, and test my faith. I love how sometimes you make me feel social enough to go out and meet other people, and yet I always seem to come back home with you.

I love you keep me on my toes, and yet still manage to keep me grounded. You truly are amazing and I would be thrilled to spend the rest of my days with you.

Oh Life, I understand that sometimes things need to happen in order to shape me into the person I am. But why must you always be such a constant struggle? There have been times when I have wished you away but never had the desire to get rid of you. For without you I have nothing, I would BE nothing.

Life, you are my best friend and my worst enemy, all rolled into one. I love you and I hate you, but I will always, ALWAYS need you.

Love always,

Me"

... I might become a HOBOsapien

I may have been born a Homosapien, but if things don't start working out for me, I may well soon become a hobosapien.

The room mate and I had a huge fight. I mean huge. On the street. Late late on a Friday night. Fists - and tempers - were raised. And we both agreed it would be the best thing for me to move out.

The thing is, I had spoken to him about it before and he didn't like that idea. And now he is asking me to stay. But I can't.

So I have been searching "room mate wanted" ads and all I see are ads for '8 college kids looking for a 9th in our 5 bedroom house." Seriously? I can't live somewhere like that. I'm not 19 anymore.

Or the ad that read, "Room mate wanted. Bust have a bangin body." Hey my carcass ain't half bad, but it's not bangin, so I guess that one's out.

It's not easy, this room mate search. Sure, I have money coming in each month and I am bound to be working soon, but for now, I need to find a new home. I can't stay where I am anymore. It gets a little awkward at times.

I just need a break. Cut me a break, big guy. Please. I don't want to be homeless. All I ask for is a quiet, respectful room mate, a hot bath at least once a day, and some dark and quiet when i need to sleep. In return, I promise to let you pet my cat, I'll go halves on food and utilities and rent, and you must have cable. Easy, no?

... they shot a TV commercial while I had my hair cut

Very cool. So there I was, sitting in the chair looking straight back at the person staring at me in the mirror when I noticed a video camera and a lamp behind me.

Turns out the folks who own the little hair cutting/coloring/styling/drying place were having a TV commercial shot. But alas, I do not have a face for camera so I shall not be featured in the commercial, to be broadcast around the greater Pittsburgh area. Oh well.

Lights. Camera. Action.

... it's time to get the locks trimmed

It's been six weeks since I last had my some-shade-of-dark-blond hair cut. So tomorrow I'm off to get them trimmed.

In the past year, my locks have been shaved, grown, bleached, and blow dried. I'm amazed they still insist on bursting out from the follicles in such a constant manner.

But they have started to grow, they look relatively healthy and I've decided to let them stay that way.

During my last visit, the hair stylist guy asked me, "Just how grey are you?"

Mmmmm, not very, just starting actually, except for the back by my neck where they seem to spring out in full force, like an alien attack on earth.

I think he asked because my hair has changed color so many times that I don't even really know what my natural color is. My mother has golden blond locks, my father has mousy brown. So I guess that means I'm somewhere in between - a color much like the gunk that gets stuck in the plug hole of your kitchen sink when your garbage disposal isn't working.

Nice. Attractive. Paint it hair stylist guy. Make it look natural by doing something fake to it. Go on, make my hair look good. I double dare you.

... my sister gets her heart broken

It happens to all of us. Eventually that fire sorta fizzles out.

My kid sister - I say 'kid sister but she's turning 22 in September, but she will always be my kid sister - has been dating this guy for almost two years. Hell, they were even living together. Her facebook status would read like some soft and drippy romance novel, but in text language:

"I luv my boi so mch i cud scrm!"

"Cnt wait 4 my man 2 cme hme."

And now, the fire has died down to a fizzle. I don't know all the details suffice to say that this was her first serious, SERIOUS boyfriend. She would talk about them maybe getting married, she was naming their kids, the whole shebang.

But as I kept tried to tell her - as overly-protective big brothers tend to do - he is a young guy. Hell, he's a year younger than she is. What 20-year old guy wants to settle down? But she had her own lessons to learn.

Poor girl, her heart is broken, she's lost her first love. And as her overly-protective big brother, I want to hop across the pond and give that snotty-nosed, pimple face twat a hiding for hurting my kid sister.

I need to take her somewhere to get her mind off of it. But then again, I know from personal experience, sometimes we need time to wallow in what was and is now no more. We need to experience the hurt and pain and the tears of love lost in order to better appreciate potential love that lies ahead.

Go forth, my brave young kid sister and leave your mark on the world. But do not be heartless. There is love out there, and it will find you when you're ready.

... it's all about the 'H' word

'H' as in HAPPY.

And many things make me happy. For example, when the leaves start turning at the end of summer and the ground is covered in golds and yellows and oranges and reds. Or seeing a photo from the latest group of photos sent to me from my sister of my niece.

It makes me happy to see old couples walking hand-in-hand because it restores my faith in hope.

When I make someone smile, or laugh, it makes me happy knowing that I have brought some happiness to them.

Or hearing the excitement in my sister's voice when I make a random trans-Atlantic phone call, just to say 'hi'.

Getting a B in college made me happy because I had worked my tail off to get that grade.

It's the little things that make me happy, but sometimes, just sometimes, that's not enough. But someone recently told me that unless I was happy, I couldn't make others happy.

I'm far from perfect, and I'm happy with that. I make the most of what I have, and I'm happy with that. But to be happier, I need to sit, meditate, and work out what makes me happy again. It's time to start sharing some of the 'H'.