Worried about Hawaii

Worried about Hawaii

Handwritten page of a diary dated Feb 27, 2010

my sister just came in and told me that Hawaii isn’t going to get the tsunami they were supposed to get today. She was actually worried about Dog the Bounty Hunter because she loves that show, and his wife Beth, and all of them. She talked about Dog all day today, saying how he was tough, but not much he could do to fight giant waves of water.

When she barged in my room, she saw my computer screen with the pictures of the women in white uniforms and said I was too obsessed with WWII. I told her these women were in Hawaii, so I was worried about them the way she was worried about Dog the Bounty Hunter. lol. She said well, if you think about it, they’re all old enough to be your grandmother now, and I said, not if I go back in a time machine and walk by and say, Hello Girls, and she said they are not girls, they are women. Ack.

To get rid of her I just started a game of Call of Duty 2. That works every time.

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Original image: http://www.history.navy.mil/photos/images/k05000/k05568c.htm
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Published in: on February 28, 2010 at 4:30 am  Comments (1)  

Bagpipe Parade

Bagpipe Parade

Handwritten page of a diary dated May 28th, 2006

so I thought she was doing me a favor. She knows I’m obsessed with Scottish stuff, so first she shows me the Netflix page for a Scottish TV show, “Monarch of the Glen” which I loved btw. When I finished watching all seven seasons, I felt like crying, like, seriously? It’s over? Forever?

As I was moping around the house, she tells me there’s a parade, an hour away, which would normally make me go, “so what?” But she shows me the pamphlet, in the small print of the list, a Scottish band will be marching in it. OK. I guess that’s worth two hours in the car with the family. <sigh>

So, the Scottish band is pretty good, and there are a few younger guys in kilts, so I’m smiley. UNTIL. The moment. I thought I was going to die. My parents start marching with the Scottish band. omg. Kill me please. My mom in her little curly mullet hair wearing a stretch jogging suit and the most embarrassing headband that anyone could ever wear.

When she waved at me, I’m surprised I didn’t just die on the curb. If she had to go identify me at the morgue, well, she’d probably feel bad, but she would deserve it.

Published in: on February 27, 2010 at 9:01 am  Leave a Comment  

Bonnie and Clyde

Bonnie and Clyde

Handwritten page of a diary dated Jan 21st, 1968

but he said we had to go to the library first, which floored me. I figured he’d never been there. He showed me this picture in a book of Bonnie & Clyde, and he said I looked like Bonnie, which, after a closer look, yeah man, I kind of do look like her twin.

Then he asked me, out loud, did I remember that movie we went to with Warren Beatty and Faye Dunaway. I whispered, yeah, shut up, we’re in the library, I remember the movie. He said, Bonnie didn’t look like Faye Dunaway, she looked like YOU so maybe it’s destiny. I said, what, that we should rob banks? He only smiled. He thinks we should rob banks because the real Bonnie and I have the same appearance? I looked at him like he’s cracked, which he is.

I started walking away, and he said, wait, it doesn’t have to be banks, we could start small with a gas station. The librarian came over and gave us a dirty look, so we bugged out. In the hall he said, you always say you don’t have enough dough. When we go to the head shop, you want incense and posters and, oh, that jacket with the fringe. I wish I could’ve gotten you that for Christmas.

I said yeah, that jacket was far-out, but you want to carry a gun so I can wear it? I’m flattered, but I don’t think it’s worth risking your life for. He said he wants to live fast and die young. I used to like that about him, but now I see that he needs to mellow out.

BUT, I must admit it is weird that I look SO much like Bonnie.

And man, now he’s got me thinking about that jacket again.

Published in: on February 26, 2010 at 9:24 am  Leave a Comment  

Grandma’s secret

Handwritten page of a diary dated October 2nd, 1972

pogged after a big fish and chips takeaway and Nan called me to her room and wanted some company while she ate her dinner. I laid on her bed and tried to think of things we could talk about while she sat in her tiny chair with her tiny table in front of her. Even in that little chair, she doesn’t take up much room.

Having a chat with her once in a while is the least I can do since we all invaded her house and now this bedroom is the only place she can have things her way.

She ate a bite of hotpot and then looked up at the picture of her late husband. Then she took a sip of tea and took another look at him.

About that time I realized my new Sex Pistols album was still playing and my bedroom is right next to hers and now I know she hears it, but she hasn’t complained. So I said I’d be right back and I went to turn it off and came back into her room.

I was lying there on her counterpane for a while again thinking this room smelled like roses, and she came out and told me that even though I’m a lad, she thinks I’m the only one in this family with a sensitive nature, so she trusts me to help her with something important. I sat up. She reached into her pocket and got a folded piece of paper, asked me to deliver it. She looked up at Grandad’s picture again and then said there was a man I needed to find. According to Nan’s friend Violet, this man has been walking in the little park on Spauldham Lane every day around tea-time. I said of course, I’d find him, but how would I recognise him? She said not to worry, I couldn’t miss him because he’s tall — freakishly tall.

I told her she could count on me, and now I’m back in my room with the note. It only has a sliver of sellotape holding it shut, and it would be easy to read it and tape it back up again. I want to. But I won’t. She trusts me.

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Original image: http://www.pinhayhouse.co.uk/application/html/images/user/bedroom.jpg
Published in: on February 25, 2010 at 9:45 am  Leave a Comment  

Sonny Bono vs Steve Lawrence

Sonny vs Steve

Handwritten page of a diary dated October 16, 1972

minding my own beeswax, watching TV, and she came in and wanted to know how my day was and I said “I had the day from hell” and she said “Don’t say hell in front of your little sister” and I said “Then don’t ask me how this particular day was” and she starts trying to watch TV with me, which is fine except I know she won’t stay quiet long.

Was I right? Of course. She said “That Cher is taller than her husband” as if she hasn’t been living in the free world and seen Sonny and Cher together before. I let that one go. Then she was quiet for an astounding two minutes or so, then she said “He’s not really that handsome” and I said “Sorry Mom, but I couldn’t find a show to watch with Steve Lawrence and Edie Gourmet.”

That might’ve been a bigger mistake than some of the mistakes I made earlier in the day. She goes to the hi-fi cabinet and digs in that little indent thing and pulls out her Steve and Edie album and holds it up to the TV and asks me who is better looking, Steve Lawrence or Sonny. Instead of giving her an answer I start looking at Edie Gourmet and Cher and thinking they look like they could be from the same family. I doubt it, but maybe I’ll go to the library and look it up in a magazine to see if they are.

Meanwhile, she gets tired of waiting for an answer from me so she puts the record on and plays “This Could Be the Start of Something Big” and dances around in her curlers. Actually I must admit it was pretty funny so I tell her I’m going to get the camera to get a picture of her like this so I can send it to Steve Lawrence. She says “What a splendid idea” and starts taking out her curlers

Published in: on February 24, 2010 at 9:03 am  Leave a Comment  

Alaska Men

Young woman looks out of train window at wilderness
Handwritten page of a diary dated September 29, 1987

it scares the peewaden out of me and I’d like for someone tell me, what is it about Ramona that gives her the gift of talking anyone into doing anything? Especially me!

She sits here on this train and never ONCE does she give a worry about whether we can make it on our own in Alaska. She says it is an utter travesty that two girls like us didn’t have boyfriends and she hatched up this plan after someone told her about this new magazine called Alaska Men. She says they have an overabundance of men there who are dying to get their eyes on a decent girl. She says when we arrive, all we have to do is line them up and point to one and say, “I’d like to try that one out.”

I’m the one asking her how we’ll afford a place to live with our meager funds. She says our money won’t have to last very long. She thinks we can get any old boring job because we only have to work until we find a man with a big, cozy log cabin for us to lounge around all day while he goes to his job laying pipeline, or hunting moose, or something. Hey believe it, I’m all for a cozy cottage with a rugged guy, but what happened to women’s lib? Didn’t Ramona get that memo?

Oh great, now she just took off her Walkman headphones and told me she’s going to start by giving her attention to the guys that look most like Jon Bon Jovi.  And she said that with a totally straight face!

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Original image: http://www.kumuka.com/slideshows/images/NAF1/Train-Trip-to-Anchorage.jpg
Published in: on February 23, 2010 at 10:59 am  Comments (1)  

Kettle corn

Kettle corn

Handwritten page of a diary dated April 4, 1992

He thinks I’m going out on the road with him this summer, he’s lost a few more marbles than I already thought he lost. I got stuff to do. He says I’m at a age when I should be helpin out around here but if you want to know the truth, he should just about give me credit for inventing kettle popcorn. I always made that stuff for parties and my fan club (ha ha) there they are, crowded around the kettle in the backyard, smellin it and dyin for it to be ready and then sayin they never tasted anything like it, so sweet AND salty. So it’s possible I did invent it. I’m an idea man. That should be my contribution, instead of spendin the summer with my stupid dad at some fairs in Whoopteedoo Texas when it’s 600 farrenhite.

Say some cute Texas girl comes around to flirt with me, what am I gonna do with my dad standin there in overalls expecting me to stop talkin Rico Suave to her and whip up another batch of my secret recipe? Next thing you know, he’s deciding that overalls and barber shop short haircuts are the uniform of our family kettle corn cartel. If a Texas girl flirted with me when I was wearin that uniform, I would expect she probably had her own problems.

That day I took the above photo, I was out there helpin him work on his technique because I want him to have a chance to get his batches tasting closer to as good as mine. And I was wearin my sister’s glasses with the purple frames. I took a clue from Klinger on my stupid dad’s favorite TV show, Mash, which made me also put on a pink shirt and hope that my dad — a guy who grew up in the U.S.A. of Colonel Potter — would not want his son by his side if that son was wearin a pink shirt and purple glasses. Unfortunately for me, my stupid dad barely noticed.

So now on to Plan B, which is even more genius, and quite hilarioso if you ask me

Published in: on February 22, 2010 at 9:15 am  Leave a Comment  

Mannequins

Mannequins

Handwritten page of a diary dated May 21, 2009

his horrifyingly-bad-smelling socks by the front door and he runs up to the computer room. I hear the printer and I know he’s been taking pictures. I keep telling him, it’s not like the old days of photographs — you don’t have to print every one, but of course he walks in with a colored picture, which he hands to me even though I’m trying to chop fresh onions to make the jar of spaghetti sauce taste better.

He smiles and says “This is how I want you to be when I come home at night.” And he’s talking about this picture he took of some plastic mannequins. I turned around, didn’t miss a beat, handed him a nearby cookbook called “Relaxed Cooking with Curtis Stone” (who happens to be a mighty-fine-looking Australian chef standing there on a book cover with plates of food) and I said “This is how I want YOU to be when you come home at night.” And he says “Ha, well, I’ll be him if you’ll be one of them.” And he sticks the mannequin picture to the refrigerator with the refrigerator magnet we got in Georgia on our honeymoon. Our honeymoon, yeah, when he used to be a little more romantic, like oh, I’d say about 100 percent more.

So while he rummages around seeing what kind of pop is in the refrigerator, I stick a fork in the boiling spaghetti water, and get a piece of half-cooked spaghetti and fling it right onto the back of his shirt. Bulls-eye. It clung to that shirt with all its might and he had no clue. It was small payback for him thinking I should be like a lingerie mannequin. But it was enough to give me a charge every time I saw it the rest of the night.

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Original image: http://www.publicdomainpictures.net/view-image.php?image=2324&picture=mannequins
Published in: on February 21, 2010 at 6:45 pm  Comments (1)