david w. smith

The Savvy Photographer blog giveaway...

2011-01-07T10:15:00.000-08:00

Cool giveaway on "The Savvy Photographer" blog. Check it out here...

http://www.thesavvyphotographerblog.com/

Seems To Me

2010-12-30T20:16:00.000-08:00

it seems to me
life should be easier
but if it were
would we be so poetic
so artful and colorful
it seems to me
that without this
struggle we call life
all the things that
make us who we are
would be absent
no personalities
no character
no you or me
no stories to tell
without the struggle
there would be no life
so enjoy the struggle
embrace the journey
and live life

** Today, while looking through a journal, I found this. I wrote this poem about twelve years ago and had it published in a "coffee table" poetry book collection.

2010-02-08T18:48:00.000-08:00

I have lived through things I thought I was never capable of, and Im so much less afraid of feelings than I used to be. The process, the journey, of being wounded, awakens us to realize our true strengths..it rearranges our values, and the top priority is never what you thought it would be. Life, when it comes down to it, is never about power or perfection, it all comes down to LOVE...

..Realizing that we are vulnerable and our time here with each other is limited, we become more free to live more passionately, live more full lives, than we ever have before...We discover whats worth fighting for and who we REALLY are....our REAL strength lies buried at the very depths of any wound we have ever SURVIVED..........I'm so glad I survived all my wounds to finally experience the life I always knew I deserved!

Sunshine

2009-12-31T11:20:00.001-08:00

Even though she hates having her picture taken and thinks they're all horrible, I think she's beautiful...and try to tell her so everyday.

Offshore "Fireworks"

2009-11-12T08:49:00.000-08:00

A cool shot of some sparks falling to the water below, 'caused by some welding being done on the top deck of the platform. Shutter speed was slowed down to allow time for the sparks to fall and be captured.

I think it's a cool picture. whaddya think?

Falling

2009-10-31T08:46:00.000-07:00

Falling for you was simple, easy
You were just being yourself
Kind, silly, loving and caring
Falling in love with you
was different, I did it
without even knowing
Always wanting to be near you,
hear your voice, feel your touch,
Always needing more
Always trying to let you know
that you're in my thoughts,
my dreams and my heart

Cheap Beer and Screaming

2009-10-26T09:20:00.000-07:00

Driving down the road, pitch black except for the lone, weak beam of light from my one headlight, I have no idea where I am. I haven't passed a sign for at least thirty miles, well one sign, but who eats at Denny's? Everything is peaceful in the desert at night. Quiet. Thankfully the guy in my trunk screaming is keeping my senses alert and my brain awake. After returning to my car from the inside of the truck stop that smelled like fried chicken and cheap, replica cologne, I found the "screaming guy" in my car attempting to steal my radio. "Screaming guy" was surprised to see me back so quick and I was surprised he was interested in my piece of shit radio. Without thinking, i hit the guy in the head with my recently purchased 40-ounce bottle of cheap beer, then grabbed him by his jacket, that interestingly enough, looked like the one with all the zippers from the Michael Jackson video, and maneuvered the guy into my car trunk.

Now the cheap beer has worked its way through my system and I eagerly search for the welcoming lights of the next truck stop / casino / prostitute haven, so that I can relieve my bladder. Soon I spot a Texaco and make my way into a parking space next to an old beat up truck with a sign on the side of it that says, "Joe's Surf & Turf : landscaping and pool maintenance".

One thing in life I hate is when an automatic door doesn't open as fast as I'm anticipating it to, and I slam into it. The noise from me dislocating my pelvic bone on the "automatic" door apparently wakes up the night clerk because he nods and points to the back of the store when i mention the word shitter. As I'm standing there urinating, I look to my right and wonder if Amy realizes just how much Brian loves her. Does she know that he brings a knife with him to the restroom so that while he's pissing, he can proclaim his undying love for her by carving it into the bathroom wall for anyone who ever happens to piss in this same stall to see? It brings a tear to my eye. Not the love, but the ignorance, the stupidity, the ...

I'm torn back to reality as I hear "screaming guy" screaming from my trunk. Zipping up, I head outside and see approximately forty-seven Hispanic people standing around my Buick looking at it, wondering why it is screaming.

Oil platform being moved...

2009-09-21T09:35:00.000-07:00

This is an oil platform that has been pulled out of the water, put on a barge and taken to shore, possibly to be disassembled for salvage. It is being pulled by that tiny little tugboat. The pictures don't do the scene justice, it was a pretty spectacular sight!

2009-07-01T07:48:00.000-07:00

Thought I would share last night's sunset with you guys. It was really spectacular. Reminds me of the time I burnt some instant grits after cooking them in the microwave for one second. I realize sunsets and grits don't really have anything in common, but somehow this image just reminded me. It was a nice moment I had.......and now I'm sharing it with you. May you always have thoughts of grits while looking at sunsets...and if you're from the North and don't know what grits are, google it....it'll change your life.

R.I.P. (rest indefinitely phone)

2009-06-28T11:12:00.000-07:00

This is what happens when your phone falls out of your pocket and falls forty feet to a metal deck beneath you. It will certainly be a long drive home with no phone. Maybe I should post my coordinates so someone can mail me a new one! Donations are now being taken.....email me and I'll send you instructions. An iPhone or Blackberry will do. I'm not very picky. Thanks.

Water spout offshore

2009-06-23T07:16:00.001-07:00

We spotted this water spout about two miles away from us about to hit
another platform. Once it hit the platform, it dissipated. Was really cool
to watch, thankful we were far away. These things don't do a whole lot
of damage, its not like a tornado on land, picking up debris and thowing
it around. However, we were still glad it wasn't aimed at us.

2009-06-22T11:55:00.000-07:00

This is what i do at work. Yep, play.

Offshore Life

2009-06-22T10:12:00.000-07:00

It amazes me when I stop for a minute and remember that I work offshore. Here I am stuck way out here in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico. What the hell happened? How did I end up here? Oh yeah, ....Life! Life will end up putting you in weird places. Luckily it put me out here making money instead of being a trapeze artist, 'cause I'm really scared of wearing tights.

Happy Daughter's Day!

2009-06-21T17:34:00.000-07:00

Today is Father's Day. A little over five years ago, I became one of the few, the proud, the oh-so-lucky ones, that become known as Daddy. Yesterday, while I'm checking my email at work, in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico of all places, I received an email with four pictures from my beautiful little daughter, LaRae. Tears sprang into my eyes, stinging, blurring, shouting. Emotions overwhelmed me for several seconds, happiness, adoration, love, and gratitude. One other feeling, I don't guess it qualifies as an emotion, but it sure felt like one, was the overwhelming sense of feeling so very, very lucky.
Lucky to be the proud Father of such a beautiful, loving, caring daughter. Lucky to have the opportunity to spend so much of my life with such an incredible person. I'm amazed that someone came up with a day to celebrate me being a Father, when it should be me celebrating her, not just one day, but every day.
Days like today remind me how great my life as a Dad is, how important my life has become, and how I should always strive to be a better man and a deserving Father.

Doggone..

2005-10-20T17:02:00.000-07:00

see ya buddy.... 'nother pic of larry the dog -------------------------->

Well, doggone!!

2005-10-20T16:38:00.000-07:00

A good friendship can endure many things...including death.

Larry the dog, has passed on. A great friend, a pal, and a true warrior, has left to meet his big Alpo dish in the sky. Gone to chase Fords and Chevys through the heavens.

He was a good dog. Everyone says that about a dog that has passed. A good dog. Well, Larry was an exceptional dog. Great with kids, playful, obedient, and never, ever once used the "bathroom" in the yard. I guess you could say he was neat. Maybe obsessive compulsive.

I miss Larry. I cried when I buried him. Yes, me, a 6'2, two hundred and twenty lb. guy, cried when his dog died. I miss him. Much.

We're still buddies. Sometimes I think I still see him. Often, I'm pretty sure I still smell him. I still look behind my car when I'm backing out of the driveway.

I'm on the lookout for another Larry. Same breed, same colors and yes, he will be named....Larry Also. Or Larry 2.

Thanks for reading. I appreciate it. I only wrote this to honor Larry.

Larry. A good dog. I miss you buddy...

Apology to lil Wayne fans...

2005-05-17T12:23:00.000-07:00

This post is an apology to all the lil Wayne fans who mistakenly find my blog after searching for lil Wayne on Google.

I am not lil Wayne. Matter of fact, I had no idea who lil Wayne was until I did a search on Google myself. Guess what? I too found this website. But, I also found out a lil about lil Wayne.

Apparently he's a young, talented rap artist, with a huge fan base.

I on the other hand, am a big Wayne. I weight around 220, and stand 6'2. I am a white redneck construction worker, who happens to enjoy writing humor articles. Or at least trying to write humor. I prefer rock 'n roll to rap, but have on occasion listened to rap. I can enjoy some Snoop Dogg, Fifty Cent and even some Eminem. Maybe I'll have to give this lil Wayne guy a listen. I just might become his next biggest fan.

If you have reached this site by mistake, you can still take the time to read a few articles, or even leave a comment about how pissed off you are that this site has nothing to do with that other wayne, who apparently is smaller than me.

If you do happen to speak with lil Wayne, let him know that I appreciate his fans as much as he does. Because other than my Mom and my sister, I think only lil Wayne fans frequent this blog. So tell lil Wayne I said thanks.

Also, ask him to send me some tickets to one of his concerts. I might check it out. Or I might sell the tickets on ebay. I could really use the extra cash.

Hey!

2005-05-17T10:38:00.000-07:00

Used to attract attention or to express surprise, appreciation,
wonder, or pleasure.

That definition comes from Dictionary.com. Its one definition for the
word hey.

The word hey, used as a greeting, originated in the South. It is now
used throughout the world as a formal greeting, replacing Hi, and the
previously popular head nod.

I use this simple word throughout my day. Sometimes its used as a
greeting, like when I see someone at Wal-Mart I'm supposed to know,
but can't remember their name. "Hey...........neighbor."

Or sometimes I use the word as an expletive, like when someone
pulls out in front of me when I'm racing home to catch the end
of American Idol. "Hey! You......Son of....you..Idiot!!"

Lately, "hey" has taken on a new meaning around the house. It
makes me smile and laugh. It makes me even, a little giddy.
lil' Langley Rae, who turns 14 months old in a few days, has turned
"hey" into a camcorder battery charging event.

Its her new thing. When she sees someone, her arm shoots up in
the air, she smiles really big and then "Heeeeeyyy!!" Its extremely
cute.

The first time she did it, I wasn't sure what she was doing. It looked
like she was paying homage to Hitler. I thought maybe I had left the
television on the History channel.

She even does it to Larry. The dog. He thought it was cute too.
However, he was concerned with the fact that she wasn't wearing pants.

After I considered that fact, I realized it was also my first time to
be greeted with a "Hey" by someone with no pants on. Thankfully, it
was her and not the FedEx guy.

Now that she's mastered this new word, I can't wait until the next
one. Hopefully, it won't be the word I used frequently last Saturday
while I was attempting to fix the lawn mower.

Number One Mom

2005-05-05T19:39:00.000-07:00

This weekend is Mother's Day. I'm not one, so its just Sunday.

Actually, its not just another Sunday. I know a few Moms, and two or
three of them are pretty darn special, so I'll be sure to let them
know, come Sunday.

My number one Mom, which happens to be my very own Mom, (I have the
paperwork to prove it, so she can't deny it) is a super lady. By
saying that, I don't mean she wears a cape and flys around saving the
world. Although, I'm sure if the right powers that be asked her to,
she'd give it her best shot. Cape and all.

My Mom tried her best to raise me right, so its not her fault that I'm
a little warped and still immature at the age of thirty-three. She's
still trying to "straighten me out" to this day. I however, still
remain as crooked as a clothesline in a thunderstorm.

Sometimes I wonder why she still keeps me around, and lets me visit,
then I remember, I still owe her money.

One of my Mom's best assets, other than me, is her ability to cook.
Her homemade buttermilk biscuits will make the milk glad it went bad.
Her biscuits will make butter thankful to be butter and gravy,
well,...just gravy.

Yesterday, I ate supper at a friends parents house. His Dad said the
"blessing" before we ate. He used the word "sanctify". "Lord, please
sanctify our food." I thought I knew the meaning of the word, but
asked him anyway. He said he was asking the Lord to bless our food.
So, this is the new word I shall use to describe my Mom's biscuits.
They're sanctified!

Another great asset my Mom has is forgiveness. For instance, when I
was a younger man out mowing the grass and accidentally ran over some
of her flowers with the mower. To me, they appeared to be weeds. No
presence of actual flowers. She informed me that this particular
flower only bloomed once a year. I said, well then its 99% weed. She
informed me I was wrong, and then...forgave me.

Mom also has been blessed with tubs full of patience. Mom has two men
in her life that she loves. Me and my Dad. She's been waiting for
years for both of us to grow up and "behave". She's still waiting. But
she also forgives us. I think.

My Mom is strong. She easily bench presses two eighty-five. No, not
really. By strong, I mean enduring. And by enduring I mean strong. By
strong, I mean she can probably take me in arm wrestling. But what I
really mean is she never gives up. She always loves. She's the only
person in the world, no matter when I call, she always sounds excited
to hear from me. I can't say that about most women that know me. Damn
Caller ID!!

On this Mothers Day, I hope my Mom knows how much I appreciate her. I
hope she knows how much I love her, and I hope she has twenty bucks
she can loan me.

Power Outage

2005-05-01T09:55:00.000-07:00

We had a bad thunderstorm last week. Our electricity was knocked out
for three days. My roommate Mike and I had nothing to do, no video
games, and no tv. So, we sat around and read books by candlelight. I
read War and Peace, and Mike read Green Eggs and Ham.

Late into the afternoon on the third day without electricity, the
power came back on. Mike jumps up from the recliner, runs down the
hallway and slams the door behind him as he rushes into the bathroom.
He stays in there for almost an hour. Finally, sweating and pale, he
emerges and sits back in the recliner.

Curious, I asked him, "Man, are you okay? Did you get sick or something?"

He says, "Naw man, I just really had to GO! I've been holding it for
three days!"

"What? Why would you that? You scared to go to the bathroom in the dark?"

"Naw man, you're silly! You know the commode won't flush when the
electricity is out!"

Later that week, Mike went out to a local construction site and stole
one of those port-a-toilets. He took everything out of his closet and
stuck it in there. It was actually a perfect fit. Now he's prepared
for the next power outage.

2005-04-14T15:49:00.000-07:00

Larry also

2005-04-14T13:18:00.000-07:00

me & lil' langley

Good Nightie Nurse

2005-04-14T12:36:00.000-07:00

In America, we use poster boards, some permanent markers, and a lot of pacing and chanting. It’s called a protest. Or sometimes a picket line. Basically, they’re implemented in order to attract someone’s attention. To make a stand. Make a statement.

Let me say this again,...we use poster board.

In Johannesburg, South Africa, nurses are wearing pajamas and nighties to workto demand a higher allowance for buying uniforms. They’re using nighties.

Do you see the difference?

We’ve been taught the wrong way No wonder we work such long hours, for such little pay. We’ve never showed up to work in our Fruit of the Looms. I can’t wait to see the look on my bosses face tomorrow.

According to Itumeleng Molaplhegi, a nurse or something, “This campaign is the only way we can exercise our rights.”

Personally, I happen to agree with Itumeleng. How else could you possibly get more money to buy better shoes for your job? Maybe you could show up at work with hair rollers in your hair. Oh, I know, what about a poster board on a stick?

Apparently, nurses are only receiving about 54 rand ($9) a year for shoes. I bought my little 1 year old daughter some Keds the other day. Sixteen dollars. She’s not running track, or even cross country. She’s just trying to get from her room to the living room without pooping. Sixteen Dollars!

Health officials are concerned that this could potentially lead to a security problem, seeing as how just anyone off the street could walk in and pretend to be a nurse. Well, as long as they’re wearing a teddy.

I can’t help but remember the last time I was in the hospital. I had fractured my wrist. The nurse assigned to my room was the sweetest dear lady in the world. Fluffed my pillows, scratched my arm underneath the cast, and told me all about her sweet, angelic grandkids. Sweet Delores. In a thong.

It’s all I can think about now. Delores in a thong. And Delores is not an attractive woman. Incredibly sweet, but not lingerie material.

Maybe this is the real problem the health officials are worried about. Mr. Johnson comes in with a sprained ankle, sees three hundred pound Juanita in nothing but a red, sheer nightie and a stethoscope and now all of a sudden he’s having a triple bypass on his weakened heart.

The protest in South Africa began on Monday, and nurses show no sign of putting their clothes back on yet. Hospital officials stated that the moral of the janitorial crew has increased ten fold. Bob, janitor on floor three, has always had a drinking problem, and never shows up to work on time. Now with the new protest occurring, Bob is early every morning. He even
bought some new clothes. And shoes.

Officials are hoping that the forecasted cold front coming in this weekend will encourage the nurses to put their uniforms back on. If not, same said officials, will begin handing out “It’s a boy” T-shirts from the gift shop.

As Americans, I hope we have learned at least two things from this experience.

1.) We’re lucky to be Americans.

2.) Want a longer lunch break? Take your pants off.

Par for the Toad

2005-04-11T19:44:00.000-07:00

Well, its in the news, so it must be true. David Tollner, a member for
the Northern Territory seat of Solomon, in Australia, stated that
"Australians in the country's Northern Territory should start smashing
cane toads to death with golf clubs and cricket bats in a bid to stop
the spread of the toxic creatures."

Yes, you read that correctly. If you're out golfing, or playing
cricket, or just casually strolling along the outback while armed with
a Louisville Slugger, and you happen upon a cane toad, you should
immediately commence to beating the living daylights out of said toad.

Apparently, cane toads are toxic. So toxic in fact, if a crocodile or
dingo ate one, it would die within fifteen minutes from cardiac
arrest. Poor crocodile has been sticking to his Atkins Diet for four
years now, looking fit, feeling firm, avoiding cholesterol, and yet
still has to go out like this. Massive heart failure.....from a little
toad. Can you imagine how the other crocodiles would talk about him
behind his back?

"Yesterday I ate a water buffalo, a kangaroo, some guy named Steve
Erwin, and a poodle. I never even had the farts. This one here eats
a little brown toad, and suddenly he's a pair of boots and matching
wallet. Wuss."

Tollner, has his opposition. No, not PETA, but the RSPCA, Royal
Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. The Royal toad
savers. Maybe toads really do turn into princes after all.

The RSCPA wants to freeze the toads to death instead of bashing
their heads in with a 9 iron. Freezing, apparently is more humane.
But not however, fun.

According to the news report, "the toad population is steadily
marching toward the territory's tropical capital city of Darwin". I'm
sure that's a terrifying sight. I've seen toads hop. I've seen them
walk and scurry. Even seen them swim before they had legs, as
tadpoles. I've never seen one march. (well once, but that was in
Washington D.C., and it had purpose)

I'm surprised Osama bin Laden hasn't jumped on this golden
opportunity. Come on! Millions of marching, pissed off, toxic toads!
You know they're pissed off. Their own government is about to pass a
law to make it legal for people to randomly wack them in the head
with a Titliest putter. Then there's all that marching.
A smart, frugal, entrepreneurial terrorist, could really wreak havoc
with say, a boatload, or backpack full of pissed off, marching,
toxic toads.

Cane toads now number in the millions in Australia, so I'm sure the
sale of golf clubs and cricket bats will skyrocket. And maybe rain
suits also. Because surely, if you have a good swing, and you put your
shoulders into it, that toad is just going to make a mess...

Frogs and toads have always gotten a bad rap. First it was warts,
now heart attacks. What's next? Pick up a toad, and suddenly you're
struck with a permanent obsession to watch the Lifetime channel?
When does it stop?

Apparently on the eighteenth green.

Don't look now, ...there's a tornado outside!

2005-04-08T11:30:00.000-07:00

Mobile homes and chicken houses make excellent targets for
tornados. Proof of this will be on the evening news. Tonight.

My morning started early. The weather radio's alarm went off around
five o'clock. Dreaded news for mobile homes, other wise known as
manufactured homes. (In this article, they will be referred to simply
as trailers)

It's a tornado warning.

My neighbors began knocking on the door by 5:03, still in their pj's
and un-combed hair. They had fled their trailers for the more stable
option of my couch.

The bad news was spilling from the television in the form of colored
graphs and charts. If you live in a red county, you're screwed. Orange
county, you're about to be screwed. If you're still yellow, move to
Rhode Island.

Channel 12...The Storm Watch Team. I'm not sure what kind of team
they really are. None of them wore uniforms.

We watched for about five hours straight. I learned a lot. I now know
the names of all the counties surrounding mine. I'm fairly certain the
weatherman has a crush on the news anchor. The female one. And
I know that Vipir radar is WAAAAAAYYY better than Doppler
radar. (but don't tell channel 3) I'm not sure what Doppler is, but I
think its a cool name. Maybe I'll name my next dog Doppler.

Tornados were everywhere. And yes, they apparently hate trailers
and chicken houses. I watched a news reporter trying to explain the
scenario to us worried viewers. It was extremely difficult for him
with all the chickens running loose around his feet. Chickens were
everywhere. In the mangled trees, in peoples cars and some
attached to peoples heads. Apparently, the house the chickens once
occupied, along with all their belongings, had flew the coop.

I couldn't help but imagine the dinner menu later that night at the
local Salvation Army shelter.

Watching the news footage filmed from a helicopter, you could see
where trailers had once been. Just a long rectangular outline in the
grass. The trailer has since become mobile.

Still watching the video, you can see right into peoples homes from
overhead, because the roof is gone. All I could think about was, my
ex-wife would have been so mad if that had happened to her house,
and she hadn't cleaned up in a few days. "Filming my house for the
whole world to see, and its a mess! Look at all that dust on top of the
entertainment center! Is that your dirty socks lying right in the
in the middle of the living room floor? Hey, there's the remote
behind the couch!"

Cars are overturned and destroyed. Homes have no wall. Horses
have no stables. Birds have no trees. Dogs have no houses. Schools
have no roofs. Churches have no steeples.

The weather was bad today, but at least no one was killed. Several
people were taken to the hospital, but as far as I know, no serious
injuries. For this, we are thankful.

Also, for the free chickens......Thanks

Happy Birthday Sister

2005-04-05T08:48:00.000-07:00

Today, and every previous April 2nd for the past thirty-five years,
has been my sister's birthday. She's forty-six.

No, not really. She's thirty-five, which happens to be older than me.
I'm the baby of the family at a mere thirty-three. I suppose that's
why I still wear a diaper on Wednesdays and on most New Year Eve's.

Sister is a fairly decent person. I know, 'cause she told me so. She
once almost whipped this guy's butt in high school, simply because he
wanted to beat the living crap out of me, and frankly, I would have
let him, 'cause I can't fight. I personally think he was just pissed
off because his parents had the nerve and lack of caring people around
them, to name him Quinton. I'm sure today, he is a fine, outstanding,
tax-paying, loyal, janitor somewhere in this fine state.

But see, my sister is like that. She takes up for the people she
loves. I'm fairly certain she didn't vote for Bush.

However, my sister is also weird. I know a lot of people that collect
stuff. Arrowheads, baseball cards, stamps, welfare checks and beanie
babies. My sister collects snowmen. Not actual snowmen, because it
hasn't snowed here in Mississippi since March of '94, but snowmen as
in figurines, christmas ornaments, etc. She has a ton of them.
But I don't understand collecting something that you only bring out
once a year. (wait, that sounds like my sex life)

She always goes shopping for Christmas decorations after Christmas,
you know, 'cause they're discounted. Then, when you go to her house,
she has to show you her new snowmen. This one dances,...and this one
sings, and this one sings Silent Night, and this one farts bubbles.

I agree that they're cute..., they are. See, I agreed. But she has
four hundred of them. And 95% of them are male. I don't know why I
mention that, its just odd.

My sister has two kids. Both boys. And, unlike most mothers in
Mississippi, both of her boys have the same father. Which luckily,
also happens to be her husband.

Sister is a good mom. Her oldest son, he's five or fifteen, or
something, is a whiz on computers. He knows more than me. Unless you
factor in my skill at navigating through porn sites, then I edge him
out a little. But he's really smart, and extremely good looking. He
looks like me.

Her younger son is eight months old, and works at Home Depot. He also
happens to be really smart, even though he shows up to work in just a
diaper and the issued orange apron. His name is Quinton.

Happy Birthday Sister! You are much loved by at least nine people that
I know of. Way to go! Wait, I love you too. That makes ten!

Happy Birthday, and give little Quinton a kiss from Uncle Dave!

Cool in Spring

2005-03-28T15:31:00.001-08:00

This morning I awakened to one of the most beautiful days I've
encountered in a long time. Maybe it was just because I wasn't
hungover, or perhaps, it was just because the day was gorgeous.

Since it was such a beautiful day and the kids aren't home, I had
an incredible urge to do someting sweet, and caring and very
unselfish.

I'm going to wash my car.

I don't get to do it very often, my weekends are usually busy doing
other stuff, like laundry, changing diapers, and watching Sportscenter.

So today, I will succeed in my car-washing venture. The weather is
perfect. Not a cloud in the sky, well one that looks like Oprah, it
keeps getting bigger,.......then smaller....

It's perfect car-washing conditions. Sunny, warm, and I finally paid
my over-due water bill. You couldn't ask for better circumstances.

Dressed in shorts, t-shirt and sandals, I rush out into the warm
air, ready to wax on.....wax off.

While I'm sitting at Texaco in the car wash, waiting for the hot wax
cycle to finish, and enjoying some Lynard Skynard, I'm reminded of
when, as a sixteen year old, I had finally got my first car.

I washed it every single day. Sometimes twice a day if I had driven it
over five miles. Back then, I had women, or girls, to impress. My car
had to shine like a new dime.

Now days, I'm lucky to get my vehicle washed twice a year. It usually
happens once in the Spring, and once that folowing Fall. And that's
only if I can talk the kid who cuts my grass into doing it. (I enjoy
referring to him as a kid, me being only thirty-three. I think he's
like forty-two.)

After finally getting the car washed, I felt invigorated, and alive. I
opened up the sunroof, to allow the warm spring sun to filter in, and
warm my receding hairline.

Cranking up the radio inspired me to press down on the accelerator a
little more, and I quickly zipped through town. I made a swing
through the Wal-Mart parking lot, you know, 'cause that's where
you go to be seen. Leaving Wal-Mart, without buying anything,
(first time ever) I hit the main road, heading back to the house.

With my car shining, I pull up to the next red light in style. Next to
me, in the other lane, sits a very attractive female in a Lexus SUV.
I adjust my sunglasses, tap my steering wheel to the beat of the
Black Eyed Peas, and try to look cool. Which really wasn't that
hard, 'cause I was indeed, feeling cool. And my windows are tinted.

It was at the moment of my highest coolness, that I noticed
something dripping into my lap. At first, I thought it was sweat.
But I was cooler than sweat. When I looked down into my lap,
I noticed it wasn't sweat, it was white and purplish. Glancing up,
and out the open sunroof, I saw the sure sign of Spring. An
orange breasted Robin, sitting on a power line, with no sign of
decency or respect for newly washed vehicles, was taking aim at
my car, my head, and my coolness.

Driving home without my sunglasses and ball cap on, I decided
next weekend, I will get outside and wash my car myself, and
just try to be cool for me. I'll get out there with a hose, bucket,
some rags, and soap.

Then I remembered,... I'm busy. It's March Madness baby!
The Final Four starts next weekend.

Who needs a clean car to enjoy Spring anyway? A clean car
won't bring you happiness, and neither will an open sunroof.
These things won't make you "cool". What you really need is
a convertible!

And a time machine.

Car Keys to My Heart

2005-03-18T10:11:00.000-08:00

It's not very far from the sofa to the little side table at the end of
the sofa. As a matter of fact, I can cover it in two steps. Unless of
course, I'm trying to watch TV, want to change channels, and
then realize the remote control happens to be on that table. Then,....
well....the sun is closer.

For 'lil Langley, who turns the big 1 on Monday, getting to that
little table seemed to take forever. However, the magical, noise
making car keys happened to be on that table today, so she just
had to get there, and fast.

She can get there by crawling. It's gotten her places before. Crawling
has been good to her. Never let her down, very dependable. However,
its time for an upgrade. Trade it in for something nicer, more
aerodynamic, and maybe with better ground clearance.

Sure, she can make it there by walking, with me holding one of her
tiny hands, but I can't hold it forever, right?

So I let go....

She looks up at me, then back at the keys. Back at me. Back to the
keys. She hasn't realized yet, she's standing on her own.

That first step was easy, she did it without thinking about it. Sort
of like in the near future,... sixteen years old, flying down the
freeway at eighty miles an hour, applying mascara and talking on the
cell phone. Easy.

That second step was different, but still exciting. At least it was
for me.

There was a thought process involved. It finally hit her that she was
on her own. She also realized she still wanted those keys. Her right

foot, very tentatively, eased out in front of her. searching for, then
finding, solid gound. Reminded me of seeing someone on a frozen
over pond, testing the ice out if front of them before taking that
next step. I was looking around for Lassie holding a long tree branch
in his mouth.

Finally setting her foot down, then swinging the other around to catch
up, she turned, looked at me and smiled. I was suddenly glad I had
left my keys on the end table. I was so happy. More so than that
weekend, last month, when for whatever reason, I had free HBO.

Two careful steps later, keys in hand, she plops down to the floor.
Mission accomplished. She's happy, I'm thrilled.

With her content to play on the floor for a while, I retreat to the
computer to fire off some emails to the grandparents and order
more keys. I'll be happy to buy her all the keys she wants.

Until she turns sixteen.

dave

Sometimes when we touch.....

2005-02-26T13:10:00.000-08:00

....it's in the lyrics to some song. What song? I don't know. But for some reason, this song I don't know, has been bouncing around in my head like a crack-head in a church pew.

I hate when songs get stuck in my head, especially when I only know a word or two of the song. Now, if a Guns 'n Roses song was stuck up there, I'd be okay. I know the words. But when its a song you don't know, or don't know all of.....it's frustrating.

It's just a silly game our brain plays on us. Like our brain has its own MP3 player, but the playlist only has slogans from TV commercials, or short lyrics from tacky songs. No, not a cool song like the Black-Eyed Peas, "Let's Get it Started", but the Barney song, "I love you, you love me,........let's get....what? family. love. AAAAaaHHHHHHHHGGGGGGGGG!!

Just the other day, the phrase, "Mayonnaise and mustard, on a pickle...i love it.." kept flowing out of my mouth like, well, mayonnaise and mustard on a pickle.

I don't even think its a real song. Maybe I heard it somewhere, I don't know. But by the end of the work day, every guy working around me went home singing the same phrase, "mayonnaise and mustard....."

...on a pickle

....i love it.....

Three Days until Valentines Day.........

2005-02-11T09:59:00.000-08:00

Or, "on Seynt Valentynes day,/Whan every foul cometh there to chese [choose] his make [mate]."

Written by Geoffrey Chaucer, the guy thought to have first linked the saint's day with the custom of choosing sweethearts.

Did you read that first line? When every foul cometh......what? We got Valentines Day from this gibberish? It sounds to me like this guys buddies should have waited until he sobered up to ask him what he meant.

"You want us to buy chocolates and flowers for our sweethearts? Write poetry and buy them skimpy potato sack garments?"

"No, you idiots! I said, 'on Saint Valentines day, I ate some fowl [duck]and cheese and now I need to make it [to the toilet]! You guys are morons, you mean to tell me that while I was passed out drunk, the mayor declared a holiday based on what I said in a drunken stupor? I
have a terrible hangover, a splitting headache, I'm pretty sure I slept with Ulois, the hag from the pub, and now I have to round up some chocolate and flowers for the wife?

Do you guys realize you'll probably have to have sex with your wives tonight? You may even have to talk to them.

What if this holiday actually catches on around the world? Do you realize how many guys will despise me? Do you know how many depressed women will eat bon bons and ice cream on this day if they don't have a mate? Do you realize how many Hallmark shops will spring up in
mini-malls around the country?"

"What's a mini-mall?"

"I don't know, I'm just trying to make a point. Don't you guys realize that a monster has been created that will spread throughout this world like an e coli bacteria on a all-you-can-eat buffet? How can we get out of this dreadful day? Can we get the Mayor to call the whole thing
off? Can we just move to Antartica?"

"How 'bout we start up a chocolate factory?"

"What the hell are you talkin' 'bout? A chocolate factory? I'm discussing serious matters here, and you're going on about a tasty treat...........hey, wait a minute.......

Genius!! Maybe a flower shop too! Boys, we're in business!"

----------------------------------

Four days to Valentines Day.......

2005-02-10T13:25:00.000-08:00

Or, I wonder if diet pills are a bad gift. Its hard to know what a
good gift is. Sure, you can go with the basic heart shaped box of
chocolate and a bouquet of flowers, but that's just so.....easy.
Yeah, maybe I'll just do that.

I'm not buying anything this year, but if I were, I believe I'd have
to put more thought into it than just your basic flowers or
chocolate. How about new spark plugs and wires for your car? That's
a gift that just keeps on giving! Buy now at AutoZone, and get a
free keychain! Not only is it a keychain, but you can also use it to
gauge the plugs before you put them in! What a bargain!!

There's a '74 Chevrolet pick-up full of websites out there that will
tell you what the perfect gift is. "A heart shaped diamond
necklace!", "A red rose for every month/year you've been
together!", "A plush teddy bear that will record your own message to
that special someone!" (i'm not giving her a talking doll that could
later turn into Chucky!) "A massaging, pulsating foot spa!"

Foot spa? Everyone I know has one of these things in their closet.
Still in the original box. Still with some of the gift wrapping
paper on it. They tore off just enough of the paper to see what it
was, realized what it was, and kindly said, "Oh, you shouldn't have.
Really."

Trust me when I say this, one day, one of us will receive that same
exact foot spa for a gift.

Knowing what the perfect gift is, is really not that important.
What's really important is showing her how you feel. Show her you're
really sincere about your feelings. Make sure you communicate. And
always, always, tell her she's beautiful right before you ask her to
make you a sandwich and bring you a beer. Always.

Its always about the communication. Every girlfriend I've ever had,
always said, "Dave, you just don't communicate enough."

"But...."

"Oh, shut up!"

So guys, and gals, the best gift you can give this year to
your "snuggle bunny" is the gift of communication. Let out your
feelings. Send them an email.

Buggy on Down

2005-02-09T17:18:00.000-08:00

Going to the grocery store is one of my favorite things to do, not my favorite favorite, but close. My favorite thing of course, is taking the trash out at six a.m., on a blistering cold Monday morning.

Grocery shopping to me, is an adventure. Like the Navy. Since its an adventure, you have to be prepared. The first thing you have to decide is which store you will be shopping. You can't just go to the closest one. Who is having the best sale? Which store is having double coupon
day? Does Wal-Mart have your favorite toilet paper on sale, or Piggly Wiggly? You have to be picky. Choose your store wisely. You have to be prepared. Running off to the grocery store unprepared would be like going to a family reunion without a casserole.

Pick up a newspaper. Look through the sales ads. "Hey ketchup is on sale!" "We don't need ketchup." "But it's on sale!" "Okay, get two!"

Once you get to the store, you have to get out your list. What list? The shopping list of course! The list you made before you left the house of the things you need. Without a list, you'd be out of control, like a lady in a shoe store. You'd get home with fourteen bags of potato chips, a loaf of bread, pack of bologna, and two cases of beer. That's not acceptable! (unless you're a single male, then by all means, carry on soldier!)

Okay, you're at the store, with your list, and you've already test-driven twenty-three buggies. You've cut the best one from the herd, and you're ready to ride, er, I mean shop.

The perfect buggy (shopping cart to you non-Southerners) must not have out of control, spinning wheels. All wheels must touch the ground. At the same time. It's also helpful if
the handlebar has one of those coupon holders on it. Not for me and you personally, but for the little old lady that makes us wait in line through two presidential terms, so she can dig out her coupons hoping to save sixty-four cents.

Driving, not pushing, the buggy is the most important and pleasurable part of the whole shopping experience. (I wish they had them at malls) Why is the buggy important? Well, it has wheels and a handlebar. And,....and, it has that little bar down by your feet. Place one or
two feet here for a truly enjoyable ride, ...er, shopping adventure.

You see, it can be so much fun simply because some of us, let's face it, are getting older, and we probably don't own anything at home that possesses a handlebar and wheels. If we do, we probably also have a spouse that won't let us go near that "DEATH TRAP!" Unless of course,
that device happens to be a lawnmower, then by all means, climb aboard, stay......aboard.

Okay, you've got your buggy. Your sweating palms are gripping the handlebar, knuckles turning white. Adrenaline is pumping through your body, and leaking out your eyes. The hair on your neck is standing tall, and then suddenly, out of the corner of your eye, you see a green flag waving, and you're off!!

Well, turns out, that wasn't a green flag waving, just some green peppers. So, you start off slow. Some milk over here, jelly over there, a little pop-up wheelie in the meat department, some cookies, and peanut butter. Next thing you know, you're flying down the cookie and cereal aisle, both feet planted up on the buggy, hair flying out behind you, eyes watering, Fruity Pebbles fly past on the right, Fig Newtons race by on the left, you're really flying. Then you reach the
end of the aisle, you try to take the turn on two wheels, and OH NO! Who put that huge display of cream corn right in the way?.... Hey, two for a dollar!

You'll see people in the store for an hour, but they'll only have two items in the buggy. Why? The driving experience! Driving with no remorse, cutting people off, swerving in the other lane, passing in a narrow aisle, and speeding. How do they get away with this? No grocery buggy police! Wouldn't that be cool? A buggy with red and blue lights in the grill. Instead of guns, the cops would carry really powerful magnets, that could stop your buggy cold from ten feet away! The cop writes you a ticket for speeding. No fine, you just have to stand,
with your two"buy one, get one free" items, in the longest checkout line in the store. No
express lane for you!

One area of buggy driving that remains the same as street driving is when its a couple. The guy is pushing the buggy, but he knows he has no buggy control. She's telling him, "Go this way, come over here, stop right there, speed up, slow down, STOP RIDING UP ON MY HEELS!!"
He's driving with his head hanging down, but if you watch him closely, you'll see him do a little pop-up wheelie when she's not looking, and at the corner of his mouth, a smile.

Going to the grocery store doesn't have to be a chore. Make it fun, do like me, buy your own personal buggy. With chrome wheels.

Valentines Day is only five days away!!

2005-02-09T13:44:00.000-08:00

Or, I could use another beer. I've heard people say that the chocolate factories and flower conglomerate are the original creators and instigators of the original Valentines Day. Protect the bottom line, right? Create a day where men are almost required to buy their significant other some sort of treat. Or present. Its like a one day sale for a get out of jail free card.

Back in elementary school Valentines Day was different. You would just go to the local supermarket with your parents and pick out a box of valentines featuring your favorite cartoon character. Me, I always got Snow White. .....What? She's hot!

Once you got home, you would get out your list of names from your class. Every name on the list gets a valentine from you. Even the teacher, the awful Mrs. Crabnacker, who unknown to her, in the teachers lounge every afternoon, her colleagues were placing bets on
just how many hairs she could grow out of that mole on her chinny,
chin, chin.

The best part was, your name was on everyone else's list, so you get a bag full of valentines too! I remember I got one from this girl named Sheila. On the front it had a Care Bear, (yellow I think) and it said, "Will you be my valentine?" Inside flap said, "Mine all mine" and then on the right inside flap, little Sheila had written, "i eat my own boogggrs!"

And I was thinking, well you obviously don't eat all of them, you left one right where you awkwardly signed your name---shilje!

I still treasure that moment. It was the first time a female had shown real interest in me. Little Sheila, being so unselfish.

Now I treasure Valentines Day, look forward to it actually. No matter how many times I move and change addresses, its always there. Every year in the mailbox, a valentine from lil' Sheila. Still says the same thing, still shares her DNA.---- Postmarked Angola Prison, mental ward.