Super Psycho Magnet

These are just a few of my favorite texts that I’ve saved over the past few months. I hope you enjoy them as much as I do. And, No. There will no no explanation of what any of them mean. Not so surprisingly, they’ve all come from the same person.

“I’m in the lobby kissing hands and shaking babies.”

“Close the fuckin door. There’s a chupacabra out there!”

“I’ll be the guy in charge of stealing the fat from the lipo clinic.”

“Explain, in detail, the northern migration of the chupacabra citing weather patterns and recent industrial activity.”

- “Bonus: Draw a picture of a chupacabra defending it’s nest from human intruders.”

“That’s just what we need. A deer turning tricks in the back yard.”

“That’s why Jesus invented night vision.”

“We can find a baby for you to kick this weekend.”

Dear Sir,

I should start by apologizing for this apology being slightly after the fact. After 14 years some would say that it’s too little too late, but hey, what’s a few years between friends?

When I first saw you, I was 11 years old. I thought you were cute even under all that cake make-up, straw hat and overalls. The first time I actually meet you was the first week, of my first year in high school. It was the first Drama Club meeting of the year. That was the day I got my nickname for the rest of the year. ((My sister had graduated 3 years prior so the people that were freshmen when my sister graduated were seniors when I was a freshman.)) For the rest of the year I was known as the Little Sister.

Moving on, I remember watching you as Sergent-at-Arms and thinking about how cute you were. I also remember thinking that you could never like someone so much younger, and you probably already had a girlfriend, and I should probably just shut up and go about my business.

I didn’t. No surprise there. Somehow I worked my way into your group of friends and made my own mark. And you did notice me. And somehow we started dating.

I think it was the fact most of my friends were seniors that brought on my delusions of grandeur. I was the only freshman I knew who was hanging out with the cool Drama Club seniors (Jesus H. Christ, I’m a nerd). When someone suffers from the feeling of being much greater then they really are they tend to take things for granted. They tend to take people for granted.

That’s exactly what I did to you. You were always good to me. You opened doors and always paid for my way. We talked for hours on the phone and in person. You comforted me when I was upset. You were the only person to visit me when I had mono for three weeks, knowing that you would inevitably get sick too (and you did).

For all that you did for me, the only thing I have to do is apologize for the way I treated you.

It’s really easy to sit here and say that it was because I was young and I didn’t know any better. I knew right from wrong by the time I was five. It really boils down to the fact that I was a brat, and maybe I still am. I always wanted what I wanted, when I wanted it and it didn’t matter who else was there.

For all the things I did, I’m sorry.

Sincerely,

Walter Bean
Chief of Master Plans

I can’t remember the last time I was able to say that.

When I was in Hawaii, everyone I worked with with was married, had children, or both and no one would say, “Hey, it’s been a rough day. Lets go get a drink after work.”

It’s been almost two years since someone has said that to me. Until tonight.

Granted we stayed for less then an hour but I cannot tell you how good it felt to sit at a table with friends from work and discuss…. nothing really. Just to sit there and blather about nothing. It was awesome.

Don’t get me wrong. The friends I have are awesome and I would move the world for them. It’s just been so long since I’ve been able to go out with people and do nothing.

The feeling I have at the moment is indescribable.

It’s the closest I’ve felt the being myself in over two years.

I would love, more then anything, to be sitting here uploading pictures to show you what I’ve been up to this summer.

Alas, I am not able to because someone has moved the plastic box of randomness that contains the cord to link my camera to my computer. As it’s not as fun to sit here and describe things I’m going to have to wait. Sorry.

I can say this, and I know I’ve said it before but I mean it for real this time… I’m back. I figured today was a good day to make my comeback because it’s the first day of fall. My summer is over and I’ve got to get back to real life.

If only I could find the damn cord for my camera.

I got married last night. Twice. The first guy was amazing. Good looking, rich, tall. I do love my tall boys. However, his family didn’t really approve of the marriage. They are rich and I am not. So, they don’t like me. They didn’t think I was going to be able to put together a nice wedding with nice dresses. They figured it was going to be something more West Virginia.

I had beautiful red dresses picked out for my bridesmaids, Paris, Niki and Nichole. I had a fantastic white dress with red trim for myself. We were all in line and ready to walk down the isle with my Daddy giving me away. As soon as my bridesmaids started walking their dresses turned into blue t-shirts and blue skirts that didn’t match. I watched them all go to the alter in horror. When I started walking my dress turned into cut-offs and a dirty wife-beater with mustard stains. Awesome.

Once I got to the alter I had to decide if I wanted to stop the wedding and go change or if I should just go through the ceremony wearing my white-trash outfit. I figured the ceremony was what was more important so I got married in my wife-beating uniform much to the dismay of my parents-in-law.

There was no reception. Just a honeymoon. And it was awesome. No consummating the marriage. Just a good time.

A little while later, my husband and I were visited by our good friend, Jon Stewart. Jon told me that I had made a mistake and I should have married him instead. My husband agreed so he transferred the title, so to speak, and I become Jon Stewart’s wife.

About the same time I was introduced to a secret society that ranked the sons of the rich. There were 2000 men on the list. As a wife of one of them and ex-wife to another, I was entitled to know where they both ranked. Two beautiful women came forward both wearing white shirts and holding pink pieces of paper in front of them. The lowered their pieces of paper reveling pure white shirts. Then the lights went out and a black light came on. The shirts glowed in the black light. My ex husband was ranked 5 out of 2000. My current husband, Jon Stewart, ranked 1 out of 2000.

One of the stipulations of being shown your husband’s ranking is that you’re not allowed to tell him where he falls on the list. When Jon came to pick me up it was the only thing on my mind. I have the best husband of all the rich people ever! I told him that I really wanted to tell him but I was not able to. Being the awesome husband that Jon Stewart is, he told me that his ranking didn’t matter because he had the best wife ever. He then grabbed my hand and gently rubbed thumb over the back of it, even over to my thumb and the ugly-ass wart that I’ve had for over 5 years that I’m trying to slowly burn off. He ever loves my nasty warted hands.

I still wasn’t satisfied with my husband not knowing where he ranked. I went with him to his work and he held my hand the entire time just so people would know we were together. He let me borrow his car because I had “errands” to run. I drove to the secured Army base to steal the t-shirts that had the rankings on them. They tried to stop me at the gate but I only had to tell them who my husband was and they let me through without any proof of ID.

I sneaked into the closet where the shirts were and when I turned around my ex-husband was standing with my current husband. I gave my ex-husband his shirt with a hug and “I still love you,” whispered in his ear. As I gave Jon Stewart his shirt he looked at me with his doe eyes and said, “I lo……”

Then I woke up.

I’m sorry but I’m taking a hiatus. I’ll be back in a couple weeks.

As you may already know we’ve been having connectivity issues with our computers at work. Today was no different.

At 9:30 this morning when I realized there was nothing else I could do without using the network I decided to go get some coffee. I also needed to stop to get some smokes because I left my apartment in such a rush this morning I forgot to bring mine. So, I stopped at the gas station between my work and the coffee shop.

While I was standing in line I found something I had been looking for for a long time. I found Butter Rum Lifesavers.

When I was a kid I had to go to a lot of funerals. My grandmother died when I was 2 or 3, then my Great Uncle Charlie, Great Tete Lil, and Great Uncle John and possible one or two others. (I’m not 100% on the order.) The last one of my family was my Pop Pop when I was 9. My Dad’s Dad. The one grandparent I really knew as a grandparent.

I remember at every funeral we went to my Mom always had lifesavers. If I remember correctly she had a roll of cherry flavored ones and a roll of the assorted flavors where everyone sought out the cherry ones anyway. I can always remember her having Butter Rum flavored too.

After my Pop Pop died, my Great Tete Bessie took over as monarch of our family. About 2 years back she got very sick with pancreatic cancer and was told she had about a year. I guess the doctors didn’t realize the warriors the women in my family are and she fought for a year and a half. We lost her in March of this year.

On the way to the viewing I told my Moms that we had to try to find Butter Rum flavored Lifesavers. Not one store had them. We stopped at convenience stores and grocery stores and there were no Live Savers at all to be found.

So, this morning I picked up a roll of Cherry and a roll of Butter Rum Life Savers. I would have gotten the assorted ones too but I would have just dug through them for the cherry ones anyway. I will go home tonight and savor the flavor of them and think back.

To Tete Bessie (because I know you’re reading this too): I miss you a whole lot. I’m sorry that I didn’t write or call more. I can give you a million excuses but I know none of them will ever be good enough. However, every person I know is filled with would’ve, could’ve and should’ves. That doesn’t make it any better. I know your battle was long and difficult but I couldn’t be happier that you get to be with your husband once again. The world was lucky to have you and we were even more fortunate to have you as a part of our clan. You are gone but by no means will you ever be forgotten.

In August of 1967 John and Carolyn made a vow to each other that they would love each other until death does them part.

After 40 years of bickering, arguing, and a couple no-holds-barred rows between the two they are getting married. Again.

My Father asked for my Mother’s hand in marriage for the second time this weekend in the same restaurant in where my brother-in-law propsed to my sister more then ten years ago.

As a second anniversary surprise, my Dad presented my Mom with a card that will enable her to retire early. Long story short, my Mom hates her job and my Dad didn’t want to see her unhappy anymore. None of us did. Since he retired last July he’s also been telling my sister and I how much happier he’ll be when she gets to retire too so they can spend more time together. Now they’ll have that chance and I couldn’t be happier for both of them.

One of the reasons that I admire the pair of them so much is that I know it hasn’t always been easy. There have been some really rough times for all of us. Some to the point that others may have called it quits. My Mom and Dad wouldn’t. They kept their word which is so rare these days.

Congratulations, Mom and Dad!

EDIT: I forgot to mention that my Mom did say “Yes” to marrying my Father again. Just wanted to clarify.

:::AN OPEN LETTER TO MAGICIANS AND SNOWPLOW DRIVERS:::

To whom it may concern:

Recently we had a pretty good snow fall over Pennsylvania. I had plans to go out on that Friday night and they were ruined by the amount of precipitation that landed on the ground. Thanks for that, by the way.

The temperature was good. It’s wasn’t the cold that bothered me. I can deal with cold. I’ve lived in every temperature from 140 to -20. I can deal with anything. No, no. It was the tiny little snowflakes that attacked the roads that made me angry. The pretty little snowflakes that everyone loves so much, the ones that are so beautiful and unique. Let me tell you, when millions and millions of those little assholes decide to gang up on you they’re not so frickin’ cute anymore.

So, I offer this suggestion to you the Magicians and Snowplow Drivers of the world. Why don’t you join forces??? Why doesn’t one of you driver the plow while the other one makes the snow magically disappear from the road. I’m not trying to say that the snowplows themselves aren’t doing a good job. They try their hardest and most of the time it’s sufficient. However, due to high winds and snow drifts the roads still close well after the snowplow has gone home to rest.

The Snowplow Driver should continue his good work. I just would like to see a Magician in the front seat with him just as a back-up. You lay your brand of magic down on the asphalt like a spreader with the salt… Come to think of it… You don’t even need to ride in the plows if you don’t want to. You charm that salt so that the snow never comes back.

Please, please. For the love of God. Make the snow stay off the roads!!!

Thank you!

Sincerely,

Walter Bean
Chief of Master Plans

I find this especially funny because my friend, Lindsay, and I are sitting in her living room, right next to each other, talking to one another on our respective computers.

Awesome.