KeepingYouAwake

Mrs and I were driving home separately last night, but somehow listening the same station.  The show was one of those “ask the hostess something personal that is affecting you and they’ll takes calls about it on the air giving you free suggestions” kind of shows.  I normally avoid that crap like the plague, but this one caught me and we ended up talking during breaks on our cellphones about our views and opinions on the whole thing.

The problem was that a young couple has been together for almost 2 years, and although he was still relatively fit as the day they met, she had gained 50lbs in the last year they spent together.   She started saying she needed to do something about her weight gain after 10lbs, but it only got worse and worse.  They are engaged and he’s not sure what to do because he is afraid if she continues to gain and do nothing about it, he will lose his attraction to her, physically.  Because of this,  if she doesn’t change, he won’t marry her.

This question really hit me.  I’ve been up and down in weight.  I’ve been skinny enough that size 32 jeans needed a belt, and I’ve been big enough that my 38s were tight when they were fresh out of the dryer.  Weight does not the person make.  Everybody’s made a little differently and some people need some extra weight to fill them out, I think.  Mrs tells me that she likes me much better heavier.  I get that.  On the other hand, it is personal preference and he’s not wrong to have those feelings.

It’s so much deeper than the weight, I think.  Of the girls I’ve been serious with before the Mrs, there’s been a trend of apathy.  They wanted to do something about this/that/whatever, but it just never got done.  It was easier to not go work out.  It was easier to not continue that hobby.  It was easier to not look for a new career/job.  I’m not innocent either.  I hate doing things that aren’t fun, but I don’t like it to affect the Mrs. I think that this guy’s concern is less about the weight, and more about what sort of drive she really has to better herself throughout her life.

There were so many people who called in.  There were empathetic callers who said he needed to say something to her, but not mean, and to help her understand how important it was.  They said she needed to be supported and given all the information on how important this time was.  There were angry callers who called simply to defend a woman’s right to gain all the weight she wants and saying that if he loves her, he’ll understand.

The more we talked about it, we decided that it wasn’t just weight.  It’s anything that could make your partner less attractive to you, assuming they wouldn’t change it.  Maybe they stop brushing their teeth regularly, or start rewearing underwear or something like that.

What would you do, if your considerable other started to lose appeal to you like this?

I’ve got a half-brother, but I grew up an only child.  I think that led to a few personality traits I developed later in life.  You see, I didn’t live near any of my friends because we lived in between a bad part of town and the commercialized area.  With my Uncle’s habit of wandering the house in tighty-whities at the time, not a lot of people wanted to come hang out.  I was always happy playing with myself.

Ok, pervs, that’s not what I meant.

I would sit in my room and play with my LEGOs and read comics and stuff, or watch the stuff I had secretly recorded the night prior on Cinemax.  Don’t get me wrong here, I loved being social.  It just didn’t work out that way as much as I’d have wanted.

As a result, I grew to be a quiet kid outside of my particular social set.  A few people loved me, a few people hated me, and I knew who I could count on.  If I didn’t know you, I’d probably just keep my trap shut.  I hated this about myself.  I thought it was weird because you don’t see anyone like that on TV, and honestly, what was I supposed to compare myself to?

I started, and I don’t even know when, to force myself to be fun and outgoing.  It was awkward at first, but if I seemed confident, nobody questioned it.  Occasionally someone’s like “Hey, you never really talked before” but I’d explain that I had kept to myself because I could see the future then and I didn’t want to accidentally destroy space and time by giving away too much information, but that a subsequent bump on the head when I was playing [popular sport] outside of school left me powerless (in that way) so the world was safe.

Yeah, I’ve always been this weird.

I don’t really remember the process anymore, but I’m sure it was awkward for a while.  I’m sure it felt like a lie for a long time.   What I can tell you now, is that I will strike up a conversation with almost every stranger I meet and try to make them show their personality.

Some people don’t have personalities.  Particularly cashiers…  Sorry, maybe you are/were the only one…

The Mrs and I have a lot of shindigs when we can, and she and most people that know me well, label me a “social butterfly”.  Butterflies are dumb, so I’m going to go with Social Antelope.  It just feels right.  I managed to basically fix myself.  Now, why only basically?

Well, I still have ridiculous social anxiety.  I just keep it under the hood.  I think in most cases, like if I have to speak to a large group, or to a high-level manager or something, I’m running on adrenaline and slowing everything to the point that they can’t tell.  What do I mean?

I have pre-set things I will say when I see someone in passing.  I don’t have anything to say, but I say something like “Heyhowsitgoing” as one word, just so I said something and didn’t seem weird.  If a pretty girl talks to me, I’m still stunned and carefully measuring my every breath, movement and reaction like I’m going to break something.  “But, KYA, you’re happily married to the Mrs!  What’s this about?”  You’re right.  It’s not that I’m hoping I have a chance, I just can’t help it sometimes.  It’s stupid.

I look for ways out of a conversation that is going too well because I don’t want to exercise this in large doses, particularly if I haven’t been talking much that day.  Shit, if I’ve been indoors all day without interaction, God help the first person who talks to me.  I’ll jabber incessantly, over-aware of the stupid things I’m saying, then announce that I’m being weird and that I’m trying to fix it.

It’s like the unsuccessful speech I had in Speech class once, where everyone was laughing with good reason, things started going way off track and I stopped them by saying “Everyone stop looking at me!!!”.  yeah, the room fell silent and I pretty well had to pass that off as a moment of temporary insanity.

Overall, the system works.  Being a designer/developer, I’m allowed to be weird and social at the same time.  Except one time more recently at a previous job when I and a friend stood outside the office, shooting the breeze.  A girl we worked with came by and said “Ooh, top secret conversation” and we went on to joke about how we were secret agents.  She smiled and walked inside, but just before she cleared the door I managed to yell “I have a knife!”.

What. The. Fuck.

I’m amazed I wasn’t arrested.  I mean, I did have a pocket knife that I carried all the time, so under questioning it wouldn’t have sounded like a joke.  It would have been a violent threat and I’d have gone to jail.  It’s a good thing she was a complete dingbat.

…And that was the time my social anxiety almost put me in jail.

Do you have any stories like this, or am I just a big weirdo whom you’ll no longer be reading?

In December of 2008, when we moved into the new house, I was returning the giant box truck that I had, the day before, damaged by trying to go around our 150 year old shed.  I had to stop at an inner-city gas station to refuel with Diesel because it would cost more to have them refill it and I drove at least 50 miles both ways.  At the gas station a shabby looking guy walked by with this black dog.  She (the dog) walked over to investigate me, and he kept walking.

By the time I was done refueling, he was at least a block down the road if not more.  I called out to him and pointed at the dog, at which point he threw his hand out as if to say “I don’t care…”  We put her in the car.  I named her Bambi because she could not stay on her feet in the back of the car.  She smelled like wet garbage and there probably wasn’t a bone on her that I couldn’t see.  We gave her a bath at Mrs’ parent’s house because…  Well, wouldn’t you?  she vomited newspaper and leaves.  We had to keep her.

That sweet dog has somehow disappeared and been replaced with the Pit Bull from Hell.

She actually doesn't mind crap like this...

She’s an easy going dog, unless she’s hungry.  If she’s hungry, you need to give her something, anything, or she’ll find something to eat.  Oh, and she’s always hungry.

We took her to the vet straight away and found that she was about 3 years old by measuring the plaque on her teeth.  Gross, right?  She amazingly didn’t have worms or disease of any kind.  Pretty healthy for a very thin street dog.  Who knows what past she has…  I can tell you, however, that she hates strange dogs.  Taking her on a walk near other dogs means I get to hold her to my chest and have her bludgeon me with her head.  It’s awesome.

To the left, to the left. Her left...

Her?  No way dude.  I know that’s what you’re thinking.  But that’s the easiest part.  See, she doesn’t hate our other dogs.  She realizes they’re part of her pack (or some shit).  That’s not a big deal.  What is a big deal is that she can’t be trusted alone in the house.

She’s the most loyal dog in the world.  She’ll come when you call, even if she’s in a chase.  But don’t leave her alone in the house.  The first time it happened, I took pictures.  It was, by far, not the worst damage she’s done.

This is where she escaped her cage. She did it by somehow making the front collapse inward and then climbing over it. This is where she got into the main household trashcan that she spread around the house. Oh yeah, and she ate a whole pan of chocolate brownies. And some plaster decorations....

She hauled the kitchen trash can in its entirety into the living room for convenience. She also got into the bathroom and brought toilet paper through the house, as well as various other things she found. Oh yeah, and she ate several bars of Dove soap. She STILL loves that stuff.

I guess she got tired after a while, and started taking her treasures to the bedroom. She chewed on clothes and peed and pooped EVERYWHERE.

You might be saying “It can’t be true, you’re framing that poor dog”.  I mean look at that face:

All tuckered out... The shithead...

I had to zip-tie the cage together at all seams and close off the auxillary door.  Then she learned how the latches worked so I had to start putting luggage locks on the latches to keep them closed.  Then she started destroying the luggage locks by biting down on them and compressing the brass padlock until it wouldn’t re-lock properly.  Then I used larger locks.  That was working…

Then one day, when she was in the bathroom she somehow got out of her cage, chewed up the door handle trying to get out and tore off the door trim.  We couldn’t figure out how she escaped.  nothing was loose…  She made a hole.  In the steel cage…

The cage was in the basement so that if she did get out, she wouldn't do any damage... As you can see, she has strong jaws.

This is hole is what prompted me to put her in the basement. I fixed it with a license plate...

While she was doing this damage, she also tore out and chewed up all the sump pump line.  Not long after this, the front door was filled with 3 license plates, and then those came off. now we have her in a different cage with thicker bars.  So far, so good.  I’m thinking about customizing a Dogloo house as a cage so she can’t break out.

She's a sweet kid...

She’s a real handful, but she’s ours now so I can’t let anything bad happen to her.  I need to find her a good home where she is the only dog.  It would be great if she was out in the country, because she loves to go out with you, but she’s also a big fan of riding in cars.  I mean, a BIG fan.  She loves the car.  She’ll be good in the car too.

Unless someone pops up that we can trust, we’ll have this maniac for the rest of her life.  She cant’ be contained, she can’t be stopped and she’s put our mastiff in the clinic once for trying to eat his leg when he acted dominant.

Tell me your dog story, or let me know if you’re interested.  I couldn’t possibly divulge anything worse about her.

My Zombie. My Zombie.  Wherever there’s brains, he eats.  My Zombie.  My Zombie.  My Zombie & me!

If you don’t remember the My Buddy & Kid Sister commercials from the 80s, you probably think I’m crazy.  If you do, you’re already aware that I’m crazy from previous exploits.  Either way, I’ve come here today to share with you my day with my new buddy, Larry Jacobs.  Larry is a zombie sock puppet, made by Chelle over at Coffee & Zombie Movies.

I won him for having the ugliest weird shit.  He’s mine now.  Stop winking at him, because it’s awkard for both of us.  Check out the pictures from our outing:

Larry likes riding in the truck. He was a little leery when I called shotgun, but he settled down after a bit.

I tried to snap a picture just as the plate was hot on the table, but Larry was *really* hungry. The waitress never did come back. It was weird.

After lunch, we visited the Flea Market to find Larry a friend. This is Dr. Bones. They're all BFF and shit.

Larry is one swingin' cat. He insisted on visiting the swings before us, and I had to use the restroom. He's awfully happy, considering it looks like all the kids must have left him. Oh well, keep your chin up larry. Hold it up high.

Larry took a moment on the slide to enjoy the sun. I sniffed all around, but couldn't figure out where someone was cooking bacon.

Larry's shirt suggests he wished these were brains. He found these at the Flea Market. I must admit, they are quite lovely and squishy.

Pride & Prejudice & Zombies, Larry's new favorite book.

Dreaming Zombie Dreams...

So there you have it.  Larry’s mostly hanging around the house nowadays.  He’s really taken a liking to Abraham (Lincoln), our cat.  He’s very helpful, often getting meat out of the deep freeze to thaw for dinner and has only tried to eat my brains once.  He’s such a gentleman.

As you can see, there was a full box of what I’ll call booby-balls, which were like those balls that you squeeze and there is a metallic fluid inside that swirls inside the plastic when you squeeze it.  They were $1, so I bought several.  Expect them as gifts at the next party.  We also bought some homemade treats made from wheat and potatoes, that tasted like pork rinds and looks like bacon.  Pretty fantastic.  Dr. Bones was picked up in a small manga shop where the proprietor sells these and a few other goodies for a friend who makes them.  He was only $20!!!

What would you do if you had Larry for a day?

Do elephants spoon?
Do lions play chess?
Do all monkeys share my vast interest in breasts?

Would zebra’s choose color?
Would giraffes wear a hat?
Would your dog eat chinese food, and tell you it’s cat?

This poem’s just filler.
This poem’s not great.
This poem’s not going to check your prostate.

Should I buy a car?
Should I buy a truck?
Should I say it’s not for you, would you give a fuck?

I’ve been busy of late.
I’ve been lazy as well.
I’ve been thinking of writing, but that went to hell.

My blog has been quiet…
My blog’s not retired…
My blog’s not entertaining, does that mean I’m fired?

I’ll swear to continue.
I’ll talk about lubes.
I swear if you come back, I’ll show you my boobs.