My Werewolf Mask

When I was a kid, I got a latex mask of a werewolf one Halloween. I also had a fabulous cape. I was like this scary-cool werewolf superhero.

I can’t remember why, but I spent that Halloween at my grandparents’ house. My grandparents lived on a hill overlooking a major highway. I was outside playing that night, when I saw a group of about five boys cross along the fence of my grandparents’ property to the rocky overhang. They were much older than me, and they were acting suspicious. Two of them were carrying a carton of eggs. I had to see what they were up to, but I didn’t want them to know I was there. My ultimate goal was to scare the living shit out of them.

There was a hedge that I took shelter behind just a few feet behind them. I worked it out in my head. Whenever they came back this way, I would spring from the bushes, and they would all pee their pants. The plan was fool-proof.

The boys hurled the eggs at the passing cars. When they actually made contact, they sounded like gunshots. The boys laughed and “egged” each other on. Then, one of the cars they hit slammed on its brakes. And the driver got out and started up the hill after them.

One of the boys yelled, “Shit! Let’s get outta here!” I grinned with anticipation. The trap was about to be snared.

As soon as they got close to the hedge, I sprang from my hiding area, growling my scariest werewolf growl. The next thing I knew, I was flat on my back and covered in the remaining eggs. I guess a four-foot tall werewolf really wasn’t as scary as I had imagined.

Crocs

I ordered a pair of Crocs the other day that look more like regular shoes and less like rubber duck feet or wedges of Swiss cheese. They are still ugly, but less ugly than before. And my feet don’t hurt when I walk in them. They are quite the rage in the nursing home.

The problem with the pair I ordered is they kinda squeak when I walk in them. It sounds like I’m farting. I got to ride down in the elevator the other day with my boss. I took a step. Fart! I grinned, blushing. I stepped again. Fart!

There was an uncomfortable silence. “It’s my shoes!” I exclaimed. He said “Uh, okay,” but I could see he didn’t believe me. Maybe they’re called “Crocs” because they were started as a joke and didn’t think anyone would actually wear them.

Woman Nearly Killed By Paint Scraper

Every once in a while, I see a woman zipping up and down my street on a motorized wheelchair. I’ve never had the opportunity to speak with her, but I finally got to meet her Saturday morning. Unfortunately, the meeting was less than ideal.

Let me back up.  David had taken the step ladder over to his mother’s house the day before and forgot it there. So while he went to retrieve the ladder, I was outside scraping paint off the south side of the house. The woman in the wheelchair quietly pulled up behind me. “It’s about time you started painting that house!” she shouted. I jumped a foot, nearly falling off the painting platform I was standing on. “It’s the eyesore of the neighborhood! You’re bringing the property values down! You’re house looks like a crack house.” Naturally, this instantly set my blood a-boiling. Thoughts of murder filled my head. My grip tightened on the paint scraper as if it were a knife.

Now, it is true the house is currently an eyesore that is long overdue for a paint brush. We’ve been working on the job for about two years now. It would have been over much sooner, but I don’t like to be outside when the temperature is greater than or less than 73 degrees. In Oklahoma, that only leaves a couple of weeks in the spring and a couple in the fall. I’m thinking it will be done some time before 2012.

Anyway, I turned around, fully prepared to scrape the face off of this bleating sheep behind me. To my surprise it was the woman in the wheelchair. For a split second I wondered if she had spouted off to the wrong person, he’d broken her legs, and this was how she came to be in her current situation.

The shouting stopped when she saw my face. “Oh, you’re not who I thought you were,” she apologized. At this point she seemed very embarrassed, and she couldn’t wait to get out of there. She introduced herself, explained that she had mistaken me for David and she’d been kidding him for quite a long time about the house, and then she left. If her wheelchair had been able to peel out, it would have left rubber the entire length of the driveway. It was a good thing no cars were coming because I don’t think she looked before she jumped the curb and headed out into the street.

Wasted Vacation

I took this week off from work so I could finish painting my house. Alas, things have not been going according to plan.

On Monday, it rained in the morning. No problem. I went to Home Depot and picked up some paint. In the afternoon I was able to get some work done. Things went downhill from there.

Early Tuesday morning, I woke up with a 102-degree fever. You know that scene in the movie “Dumb and Dumber” where Harry was on the toilet? Childs play compared to what i went through. I must not be living my life right. I normally don’t get sick much, but this year has been an exception. Later that same night, I got a charley horse in my calf.

I spent all day Tuesday in bed. I felt like I was laying on an arctic ice sheet. I couldn’t pile enough blankets on to stop the shivering.

Finally, Tuesday night my fever broke. Maybe by tomorrow I’ll feel good enough to get back to painting.

Heroes: Season 3 – Where It All Went Wrong

 

I loved the first season of Heroes on NBC. I even liked the second season of the show, despite the fact that it spent way too long in feudal Japan and it was only a half-season due to the writers’ strike. But season 3 is a big pile of dog doodoo so far. Maybe the writers are still on strike.

It went wrong from the very beginning, showing a future that is much different than the present, with no explanation why. I’m not a patient man. To make us wait for so long for new episodes, and then withhold the whole stoly is unforgivable! If I want confusion, I’ll watch Lost on ABC. I’m three episodes into season three now, and the story is more convoluted than an episode of The X-Files. I have no idea what is going on, except that everyone seems to be blood-related–kinda like an Arkansas wedding.

Here’s how they could make things right:

1. Kill off Claire’s annoying family, especially Mr. Muggles.  That damn dog is the Jar Jar Binks of Heroes.
2. Kill off Hiro.  He was cute at first, but now he’s annoying too.  Just have Ando smother him and be done with it.
3. Kill off all new characters introduced in season 2.  Really, are any of them useful?
4. Stop all the whining about having super powers.  One of the characters actually attempted suicide because she can instantly freeze things.  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve bought hot beer and thought such an ability would come in handy. The ability to instantly thaw things would be cool too, because I always forget to set dinner out in advance.  Another character whines because when she gets upset, she turns everyone’s eyes black and sucks the life out of them.  When you’re upset is precisely the best time to suck the life out of someone.  Maybe you’ll be nicer next time.
5. Quit making good guys bad and bad guys good.  That’s just dumb.
6. Quit copying X-Men.  Just about every hero ability is copied from an X-Men character.  Throw in a bald gimp in a wheelchair, and there would essentially be no difference.
7. Stage more rock-paper-scissors power battles between characters.  I really just want to see HD special effects on my TV.

I’m “On a Roll”

Tonight, I went to the Tulsa State Fair.  I saw the Bearded Lady, the Four Legged Man, The World’s Ugliest Woman, and the Elephant Man.  And that all happened while I was standing in line to get into the fairgrounds.

Parking was the trickiest part.  Essentially all parking is now $10 preferred parking.  The free parking spaces are few and far between.  We parked on the race track.  After nearly getting run over by the coke-bottle-spectacled tram driver, we headed over to the fairgrounds, in search of corn dogs and funnel cakes.

I went to the petting zoo area for the first time.  There were a bunch of pigs (or sows if you want to get technical) giving birth.  They were positioned in their cages so their swollen vaginas where pointed toward the crowd so everyone could witness how the miracle of life works.  It was like free piggy porn for rednecks.  I saw hideous, bloody things coming out of that opening that no man is supposed to see.  I may be scarred for life.  The baby sheep on the other side of the room were cute, though.  One was smoking a cigarette that someone accidentally dropped in its cage.

I didn’t ride any rides this year–a first!  Everything that looked half-way titillating spun around in a circle. My last experience with a spinning ride was not pretty.  It was called the “Vomit Comet”.  It spun around two times and I threw up all over the people beside me.  I still believe the restraining order they took out on me was a little extreme, but what can you do?

Inside the QuikTrip Center, I got to see this year’s butter sculpture.  It was a bull attacking a rodeo clown in a barrel.  While looking at it, I started craving toast for some reason.

The highlight of my evening was when two lesbians got in an argument over who got to carry the bag with the “Shamwow!” they just purchased.  As I was watching the hair-pulling and swearing, I thought to myself, That’ll really come in handy when they spill beer on their couch at home.  The cops showed up on Segways and tazered them both into submission.  It was better than any show ever seen on the Oklahoma Stage.