Today, I find myself conflicted. Not about the price of gas, or where to work, or anything like that. I am conflicted about baseball.
You see, I watched game 2 of the World Series last night. The Astros had one of the bigger Series meltdowns I have seen in a while. I felt shocked, and hurt, and a little cheated. But it was only game 2, and other teams have come back from a 0-2 deficit to win it all. Mrs. Ninjamunkey is a Chicago native, and is rooting for the Sox. She had much rather root for the Cubs, but well, that is not going to happen any time soon.
I have been rooting for the Astros. They have such a horrible history, its hard not to. They have guys that have been around since the days of my youth, and it would be cool to see those guys win. And then it hit me.
Houston sucks. They like to think they are better and more affluent than Dallas/Fort Worth. They have the Rockets, who have won that wierd basketball thing. They have Nolan Ryan, and his beef. During the "silver boot" series between the Rangers and Astros, its cut throat. All the Ranger fan needs is Houston coming here next year during interleague play and shoving that damn Championship trophy in our faces. They would so totally make it a "We put Texas on the map for baseball, you guys suck"
So I am going to flipflop my alliance. I think I am going to root, root, root for the Sox. If they dont win its a shame. Its american league, versus national league. Its baseball at its finest, with bunts, and steals and strike outs, and its the Astros.
Monday, October 24, 2005
Friday, October 21, 2005
Damn...
I am tired today. You see, I am tired partly because I have not been sleeping well, more on that in a minute. the other reason I am tired? I stayed out too late.
Needing to be at work every morning at 5:30 is really tough on your social calandar. Typically I get home around 4 in the afternoon. After sending out resumes to various job boards, I get some cleaning or household project done. By 8, I am ready for bed. I try to turn in around 9, sometimes 10.
Last night, the baby munkey was with the parents for the weekend. Mrs. Ninjamunkey and I were faced with a weekend of child free time. What did we do the first night? well, first, we went to dinner. A local place called Windy City Grill, where they specialize in Chicago style food. It lets Mrs. Ninjamunkey get a taste of home, and I get that as well, though it is not home to me, just the best damn hotdogs in the US.
We left the restaurant and headed over the the local tattoo parlor. We have both been toying with the idea of new ink for a while. I have a 8 inch lizard (seedy) on my arm, and she has Calvin and Hobbs dancing on her hip. I have been wanting something to mark my 30th year, and my overall change in life. She too, wanted something to mark the difference in her life.
After talking to the artist for a little while, it was realized that first, they closed at 10. My kind of place. "We are going to be wild and crazy, but only until a decent hour, then we need to go to bed". Secondly, they did not have enough time to draw both design ideas I had brought for us, and ink them as well. So we were going to have the Mrs' tat done first.
While we had about 45 minutes to kill waiting for the artist to finish up with his previous client (again rather seedy) we went across the street to a small mexican restaurant and sat at the bar for a drink. (perhaps the best Crown and coke I have had in a bar, as they were quite generous and poured a double for 4.50) After a nice buzz we returned the the tat store, and they started her ink.
He was done in about 35 minutes, and I must say, it looks awesome. If I get her permission, I will post photos of his work later, and hopefully tomorrow evening, I can get my work done as well.
So I am tired.
Needing to be at work every morning at 5:30 is really tough on your social calandar. Typically I get home around 4 in the afternoon. After sending out resumes to various job boards, I get some cleaning or household project done. By 8, I am ready for bed. I try to turn in around 9, sometimes 10.
Last night, the baby munkey was with the parents for the weekend. Mrs. Ninjamunkey and I were faced with a weekend of child free time. What did we do the first night? well, first, we went to dinner. A local place called Windy City Grill, where they specialize in Chicago style food. It lets Mrs. Ninjamunkey get a taste of home, and I get that as well, though it is not home to me, just the best damn hotdogs in the US.
We left the restaurant and headed over the the local tattoo parlor. We have both been toying with the idea of new ink for a while. I have a 8 inch lizard (seedy) on my arm, and she has Calvin and Hobbs dancing on her hip. I have been wanting something to mark my 30th year, and my overall change in life. She too, wanted something to mark the difference in her life.
After talking to the artist for a little while, it was realized that first, they closed at 10. My kind of place. "We are going to be wild and crazy, but only until a decent hour, then we need to go to bed". Secondly, they did not have enough time to draw both design ideas I had brought for us, and ink them as well. So we were going to have the Mrs' tat done first.
While we had about 45 minutes to kill waiting for the artist to finish up with his previous client (again rather seedy) we went across the street to a small mexican restaurant and sat at the bar for a drink. (perhaps the best Crown and coke I have had in a bar, as they were quite generous and poured a double for 4.50) After a nice buzz we returned the the tat store, and they started her ink.
He was done in about 35 minutes, and I must say, it looks awesome. If I get her permission, I will post photos of his work later, and hopefully tomorrow evening, I can get my work done as well.
So I am tired.
Thursday, October 20, 2005
Just a quick note...
So today I had lunch with a technical recruiter. She found my resume online and wanted to talk to me about positions with their company. Side note, these companies need to figure out that I am not loyal to a brand, only that I do something I like, somewhere tolerable, and for the money I want. So we go to Bennigans for lunch and sit down. I look across from us, and there sitting enjoying his salad, is my boss. Not my immediate boss, but his boss. Nice. So I make the eye contact thing, and discreetly whisper to the recruiter that my boss is across from us, and she says :"no problem, so hows your week going? Its been so long since I have seen you!" We casually talk about what kind of work I want to do, without using specifics, and 20 minutes into the food, my boss leaves. We then started talking about jobs with specifics and no codes involved. High tension at the Bennigans today my friends.
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
Pre-Halloween Horror
So I had known Danny since the 3rd grade. He was one of 4 (four!!!) DannyÂ’s in my class, and was designated as such with his last initial to differentiate between the 4. After high school, and a falling out with my parents, we decided to be roommates. The only problem was, we had about 200 bucks, 2 sofas, and a carton of Camel Wide cigarettes between us. We really had no idea what we could find for 200 bucks, but we found an ad in an East Texas newspaper for a trailer. 200 bucks a month, utilities paid, no deposit. We moved in at once.
The first of many signs of things to be, this trailer did not have usable bedrooms. The bedrooms were located at each end of the thing, but there were holes in the floors of one, and the other was missing a window, or three. It was really not a problem though, since we did not really have bedroom furniture. We moved in rather quickly, since it did not take long to load the sofas, smokes, or paper plates.
He was working at a company making large signs, and would often point out a restaurant sign he had helped make. I was working at a car dealership washing cars and putting those little stickers on the back to say where the car was purchased. At night, we would try to figure out how to patch holes, or fix plumbing, or other things that domesticates were supposed to do.
I left the dealership after a few months, and went to work at Rubbermaid as the guy on the night shift that pulled the hot tote lids from the machine, and trimmed the excess plastic from them. It was glamorous, exciting, and quite possibly the worst job I had ever had, but it paid an extra buck or so an hour to work 3rd shift, and I had all day to work on the trailer.
One morning I got home and found that Danny had pushed the sofa’s together in the middle of the living room. He had a broom, and taped to the end of the broom was a butcher knife. It was as if some sort of lord of the flies was playing fort in my living room. He woke with a start, and started telling me a tale that was too incredible to believe. It seems he was sitting in the living room, oh hell it was a crappy trailer, so to make it more attractive, I will call it the parlor. So he was sitting in the parlor watching TV, and a small furry creature came from another room and was growling and snarling at him. He tried to shoo it away, but it seemed to get larger, and was hissing. It was then that he made his makeshift spear, and was going to go after it. I started sniffing the ashtray, making sure that there was nothing “funny” in there. I walked the length of the trailer, and did not find any sign of an animal, much less a beast from hell with walking fury.
That night, as I was trying to sleep before going to work, I was awaked by a sound that can only be described as a howler monkey caught in the jaws of a wildebeest. I cautiously crept into the hallway, and there looking me in the eyes was the largest possum I had ever seen. He was 3 feet tall, had red eyes, teeth 15 inches long, and mean streak a mile wide. Since I did not have the spear with me, I made the only other rational decision, and threw something at it. He ducked, and vanished down the hole in the floor. A green glow was coming up from that hole, telling me that there was an industrial accident, and this creature was feasting on nuclear waste.
I went to my bag, and grabbed the 45. I unloaded not one, not two, but 3 clips into the floor. I then started packing up the sofas, the rest of the smokes, and decided we were moving.
Now some of this tale is sprinkled with hyperbole, and some of the descriptions are factual. The living room was not a parlor, we did not live the happy life of two bachelors building our own pad in the skanky trailerpark that time forget, but that damn possum was huge!
The first of many signs of things to be, this trailer did not have usable bedrooms. The bedrooms were located at each end of the thing, but there were holes in the floors of one, and the other was missing a window, or three. It was really not a problem though, since we did not really have bedroom furniture. We moved in rather quickly, since it did not take long to load the sofas, smokes, or paper plates.
He was working at a company making large signs, and would often point out a restaurant sign he had helped make. I was working at a car dealership washing cars and putting those little stickers on the back to say where the car was purchased. At night, we would try to figure out how to patch holes, or fix plumbing, or other things that domesticates were supposed to do.
I left the dealership after a few months, and went to work at Rubbermaid as the guy on the night shift that pulled the hot tote lids from the machine, and trimmed the excess plastic from them. It was glamorous, exciting, and quite possibly the worst job I had ever had, but it paid an extra buck or so an hour to work 3rd shift, and I had all day to work on the trailer.
One morning I got home and found that Danny had pushed the sofa’s together in the middle of the living room. He had a broom, and taped to the end of the broom was a butcher knife. It was as if some sort of lord of the flies was playing fort in my living room. He woke with a start, and started telling me a tale that was too incredible to believe. It seems he was sitting in the living room, oh hell it was a crappy trailer, so to make it more attractive, I will call it the parlor. So he was sitting in the parlor watching TV, and a small furry creature came from another room and was growling and snarling at him. He tried to shoo it away, but it seemed to get larger, and was hissing. It was then that he made his makeshift spear, and was going to go after it. I started sniffing the ashtray, making sure that there was nothing “funny” in there. I walked the length of the trailer, and did not find any sign of an animal, much less a beast from hell with walking fury.
That night, as I was trying to sleep before going to work, I was awaked by a sound that can only be described as a howler monkey caught in the jaws of a wildebeest. I cautiously crept into the hallway, and there looking me in the eyes was the largest possum I had ever seen. He was 3 feet tall, had red eyes, teeth 15 inches long, and mean streak a mile wide. Since I did not have the spear with me, I made the only other rational decision, and threw something at it. He ducked, and vanished down the hole in the floor. A green glow was coming up from that hole, telling me that there was an industrial accident, and this creature was feasting on nuclear waste.
I went to my bag, and grabbed the 45. I unloaded not one, not two, but 3 clips into the floor. I then started packing up the sofas, the rest of the smokes, and decided we were moving.
Now some of this tale is sprinkled with hyperbole, and some of the descriptions are factual. The living room was not a parlor, we did not live the happy life of two bachelors building our own pad in the skanky trailerpark that time forget, but that damn possum was huge!
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
In my next 30 years...
So last night Mrs. Ninjamunkey and I were talking about all things work related as we traveled to one of the worst dining experiences in recent memory. More on the dinner some other time. Just remind me. No really, get a sticky note, I'll wait.
Ok, got it? Now write down, bad dinner, and leave it where I can see it.
So anyway, we were talking about work, and how things have been shaping up in her career, and how mine is going stale. You see, I applied for a job the other day, and after 2 really promising phone interviews, I got the following call from the recruiter.
R:"Hey dude, (yes he is a surfer type, working in IT recruiting), I think they are really interested in you. They have not talked terms, but they have said they like what they see on your resume. But they wanted to ask if you had a bachelors degree"
Now while I was quite skilled at being a bachelor, eating ramen noodles for every meal, and making sure my paycheck lasted exactly until 2 days before payday, I never got a degree. Actually I was a college dropout after 2 semesters or so, damn internet chat rooms. You see, instead of going to class, I would just sit in the computer lab and chat in various chat rooms, since it was such new technology at the time. I would arrive an hour before my first class, and then look up and it was already 2 hours after my last class. Addiction, ain't it a bitch.
Since telling the surfer dude recruiter that I did not in fact have a degree, I have not heard from him since. I was not really that shocked.
You see, the IT field is interesting to say the least. There are kids coming out of highschool that can reprogram their X-Box to be a porn host, and rewire vibrators into VCRs. I have to struggle to stay current, when most MCSE programs are 2 box tops from Booberry and a baby tooth.
So I am thinking of going back to school. I will keep working in IT, just to fund my schooling to do what I have always wanted to do, and that is teach. I want to be an educator. I want to make a difference, oh yeah and I want to coach baseball.
So this morning I am requesting my transcript from Eastfield College. I assume that at this point, they will probably just die laughing when they see it, but hey, it might help me not have to take another English 101 class.
Ok, got it? Now write down, bad dinner, and leave it where I can see it.
So anyway, we were talking about work, and how things have been shaping up in her career, and how mine is going stale. You see, I applied for a job the other day, and after 2 really promising phone interviews, I got the following call from the recruiter.
R:"Hey dude, (yes he is a surfer type, working in IT recruiting), I think they are really interested in you. They have not talked terms, but they have said they like what they see on your resume. But they wanted to ask if you had a bachelors degree"
Now while I was quite skilled at being a bachelor, eating ramen noodles for every meal, and making sure my paycheck lasted exactly until 2 days before payday, I never got a degree. Actually I was a college dropout after 2 semesters or so, damn internet chat rooms. You see, instead of going to class, I would just sit in the computer lab and chat in various chat rooms, since it was such new technology at the time. I would arrive an hour before my first class, and then look up and it was already 2 hours after my last class. Addiction, ain't it a bitch.
Since telling the surfer dude recruiter that I did not in fact have a degree, I have not heard from him since. I was not really that shocked.
You see, the IT field is interesting to say the least. There are kids coming out of highschool that can reprogram their X-Box to be a porn host, and rewire vibrators into VCRs. I have to struggle to stay current, when most MCSE programs are 2 box tops from Booberry and a baby tooth.
So I am thinking of going back to school. I will keep working in IT, just to fund my schooling to do what I have always wanted to do, and that is teach. I want to be an educator. I want to make a difference, oh yeah and I want to coach baseball.
So this morning I am requesting my transcript from Eastfield College. I assume that at this point, they will probably just die laughing when they see it, but hey, it might help me not have to take another English 101 class.
Monday, October 10, 2005
Saturday, October 08, 2005
What's the Story Morning Glory?
So today I wanted to touch on a feeling that I get quite often. I wanted to get it out there in hopes of getting someone to comment with “yeah, I do that too!” or “no, you’re a freak!”
Every morning I have the same routine. I wake up at 4:30am, get dressed, grab a soda or some coffee, and head to the office. I arrive around 5:30, check out my servers, and then fire up my laptop. I first check company email, to make sure nothing blew up over night that I need to take care of. I then start with blogs. I have a list of about 10 that I read on a daily basis, but when I blog surf, I add more. I click the link, and then start reading.
One of the biggest disappointed feelings I get is when I get to a blog that has not been updated. Its kind of a “aww, no new update. Dang” I am disappointed that I can not read about other people’s lives to make mine more interesting. I feel a twinge of joy when someone has been going nuts, updating with quizzes, stories, and other things. Am I the only one out here that feels that let down when nothing new has been updated? Like there the world is spinning and you don’t know anything about it?
Perhaps I should seek blog therapy
Every morning I have the same routine. I wake up at 4:30am, get dressed, grab a soda or some coffee, and head to the office. I arrive around 5:30, check out my servers, and then fire up my laptop. I first check company email, to make sure nothing blew up over night that I need to take care of. I then start with blogs. I have a list of about 10 that I read on a daily basis, but when I blog surf, I add more. I click the link, and then start reading.
One of the biggest disappointed feelings I get is when I get to a blog that has not been updated. Its kind of a “aww, no new update. Dang” I am disappointed that I can not read about other people’s lives to make mine more interesting. I feel a twinge of joy when someone has been going nuts, updating with quizzes, stories, and other things. Am I the only one out here that feels that let down when nothing new has been updated? Like there the world is spinning and you don’t know anything about it?
Perhaps I should seek blog therapy
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
Freebird
---Despite the title of this entry, there were actually no references to Lynyrd Skynyrd. Shocking.---
So this weekend, we set out on a trip to visit relatives gathered to say goodbye to 2 of my cousins that were killed in a house fire. Knowing the family the way I do, I should have brought paper to write all of the things down for one heck of a blog. So now I am attempting to do this from memory. Hopefully it will paint a picture for you.
Started out, we drove through the country side to a small east Texas town. The town was one in which it sprung up out of empty fields and winding back country roads. We knew the name of the funeral home, and were not disappointed, as it was the only one in town. Google maps might as well have said “go over yonder, cross from the Fire Department, around the corner from the gas station/movie store/hardware store. Yes, all three stores were combined into the one Fina station. Superfina mart, if you will. Mrs. Ninjamunkey pointed out as we drove up “oh look they are having a fish fry at the cemetery this afternoon.”
We circled the town a few times, since I did not see anyone I recognized standing in front of the funeral home, and then placed a call to my folks, who were on the way. They soon arrived as we were gathering the baby munkey from the car and walking to the front porch. My mother quickly told us we should have been inside already, as we were family, but to be honest, I had not seen either of the 2 boys in nearly 15 years, so we were family twice removed.
We walked past the mob, and they were staring intently. I figured out what it was. We were dress nice. Shirt, slacks and a tie for me, and Mrs. Ninjamunkey was wearing a very nice black dress. Everyone there looked as if they were coming in off the lake after fishing all day, or was getting ready to go watch some stock car races, and stopped at the service on the way. No, really. I saw 3 T shirts advertising beer, 2 cartoon character shirts, and probably 20 rock band shirts, but not current bands, more like “Guns and Roses” or “Skid Row”. I think they were salivating at the thought of the rich family member coming back to make a payment or two on the trailer for them.
It was about this time there was an audible murmur from the crowd. I glance over and two plains clothes officers with obvious shoulder buldges walk toward the building. At first, I thought the county had gotten wise and picked this occasion to serve warrants. They would have made a killing. But instead, no, hey that is cousin James! He got a little furlough from prison. I heard a statement made, and I am not paraphrasing here: “Oh wow, the last time James got to come to a family function, he had to wear chains. I need to go get a hug!” Nothing says family like the state correctional van sitting in the driveway.
We go inside, and up front there was the display. Several bouquets of flowers, 2 urns, and a framed photo. Apparently they could only find a framed photo of one of the men killed. Sad really. But judging from the obituaries posted in the local newspaper, it is a good thing. Imagine the worlds worst DMV photo, as your answering a question, just having woken up and being hung over, that would be better than the photos in the obits. So one frame is it. As we walked in, there was a young woman dressed in a skin tight red mini skirt. No, tighter than you are thinking right now. She had on a faded black “guns and roses” T shirt, tied up just above her navel. Had it not been distasteful, I would have taken photos, just for you the reader to see.
As we sat down, I suddenly realized that a funeral is no place for a 2 year old. Baby Munkey was crawling all over the pews, acting like a 2 year old would, and should. We were getting dirty looks from Cletus and the clan, but really, I did not care that much. It is a celebration of life, and therefore, Baby Munkey has more life than anyone else there. And then the service started.
The minister started by reading the obituary posting, complete with dates. I think that was for those in attendance that could not read. Really. That is the only thing I could figure out. After reading the obit, the music began. I am not sure the first song, but I do know it was Skid Row. You see, Dennis, one of the men, loved Skid Row. His first son was named Sebastian for the lead singer. So here is this hair metal song blazing into the church. Everyone had the somber look as they were reflecting on the words, which I could not make out. Apparently church sound systems are not designed to handle Rock. And then the the wheels came off. The cd started skipping. A lot of skipping. It took every ounce of self control to not stand up and yell “Re-Mix!” Instead of someone actually realizing that there was a sound issue, they just let it skip. And skip. And Skip. I look at Mrs. Ninjamunkey, and she has a look on her face of pain. After a moment, I realized my face had the same look, and it was not pain, it was contorted to not scream in laughter. After 30-45 seconds of Skid-Skip, someone tried to do the artsy thing and turn down the volume slowly, as if the song was supposed to end that way, on a slow fade of skipping.
After more talking about how the two boys loved to fish and hunt, and sit on a Saturday night with a few beers (I knew the reality was a few beers in the morning, and a few in the evening) and a guitar, they played another song. Again not sure the song, but it was a country song this time, something about when I am gone, there will be a train wreck with my momma who was drunk. Not really, but it was country. It was also on a CD that apparently was used as a beer coaster first, as it was scratched all over and sounding like it was one of the original recordings from Thomas Edison.
Then talk turned to survivors of the boys. Now here is where things are kinda interesting. You see, Jimmy had just gotten engaged to a woman that was also in the fire, but managed to get out in time. (editor note: At this time they are working on bringing criminal charges against the woman for dousing the boys with some sort of flammable, and then lighting the whole thing) Now that woman was actually Jimmy’s brothers ex wife. So had the wedding happened, She would have been her children’ mother and aunt. The other boy had just reconciled with his exwife and was heading to Arkansas to be with her and his children, and this was supposed to be the going away last hurrah for him.
Of course all of this was glossed over in the ceremony, but I kept waiting for a Jerry Springer sort of moment, but none came. You know, the “you stole my husband and my dog and then killed him, the husband not the dog” type of thing. As the service was ending, they played “Every Rose Has it Thorns” by Poison. A fitting choice to end an event such as this.
I am sure at this point, if you don’t know me and are reading this, you are thinking one of several things: 1) Man this guy is a snob and an asshole. I cannot believe he would take something so sacred and make fun of it. 2) This guy would be a blast to hang out with, he is dark and demented 3) Is that you, brother Ninjamunkey?
And how was your weekend???
So this weekend, we set out on a trip to visit relatives gathered to say goodbye to 2 of my cousins that were killed in a house fire. Knowing the family the way I do, I should have brought paper to write all of the things down for one heck of a blog. So now I am attempting to do this from memory. Hopefully it will paint a picture for you.
Started out, we drove through the country side to a small east Texas town. The town was one in which it sprung up out of empty fields and winding back country roads. We knew the name of the funeral home, and were not disappointed, as it was the only one in town. Google maps might as well have said “go over yonder, cross from the Fire Department, around the corner from the gas station/movie store/hardware store. Yes, all three stores were combined into the one Fina station. Superfina mart, if you will. Mrs. Ninjamunkey pointed out as we drove up “oh look they are having a fish fry at the cemetery this afternoon.”
We circled the town a few times, since I did not see anyone I recognized standing in front of the funeral home, and then placed a call to my folks, who were on the way. They soon arrived as we were gathering the baby munkey from the car and walking to the front porch. My mother quickly told us we should have been inside already, as we were family, but to be honest, I had not seen either of the 2 boys in nearly 15 years, so we were family twice removed.
We walked past the mob, and they were staring intently. I figured out what it was. We were dress nice. Shirt, slacks and a tie for me, and Mrs. Ninjamunkey was wearing a very nice black dress. Everyone there looked as if they were coming in off the lake after fishing all day, or was getting ready to go watch some stock car races, and stopped at the service on the way. No, really. I saw 3 T shirts advertising beer, 2 cartoon character shirts, and probably 20 rock band shirts, but not current bands, more like “Guns and Roses” or “Skid Row”. I think they were salivating at the thought of the rich family member coming back to make a payment or two on the trailer for them.
It was about this time there was an audible murmur from the crowd. I glance over and two plains clothes officers with obvious shoulder buldges walk toward the building. At first, I thought the county had gotten wise and picked this occasion to serve warrants. They would have made a killing. But instead, no, hey that is cousin James! He got a little furlough from prison. I heard a statement made, and I am not paraphrasing here: “Oh wow, the last time James got to come to a family function, he had to wear chains. I need to go get a hug!” Nothing says family like the state correctional van sitting in the driveway.
We go inside, and up front there was the display. Several bouquets of flowers, 2 urns, and a framed photo. Apparently they could only find a framed photo of one of the men killed. Sad really. But judging from the obituaries posted in the local newspaper, it is a good thing. Imagine the worlds worst DMV photo, as your answering a question, just having woken up and being hung over, that would be better than the photos in the obits. So one frame is it. As we walked in, there was a young woman dressed in a skin tight red mini skirt. No, tighter than you are thinking right now. She had on a faded black “guns and roses” T shirt, tied up just above her navel. Had it not been distasteful, I would have taken photos, just for you the reader to see.
As we sat down, I suddenly realized that a funeral is no place for a 2 year old. Baby Munkey was crawling all over the pews, acting like a 2 year old would, and should. We were getting dirty looks from Cletus and the clan, but really, I did not care that much. It is a celebration of life, and therefore, Baby Munkey has more life than anyone else there. And then the service started.
The minister started by reading the obituary posting, complete with dates. I think that was for those in attendance that could not read. Really. That is the only thing I could figure out. After reading the obit, the music began. I am not sure the first song, but I do know it was Skid Row. You see, Dennis, one of the men, loved Skid Row. His first son was named Sebastian for the lead singer. So here is this hair metal song blazing into the church. Everyone had the somber look as they were reflecting on the words, which I could not make out. Apparently church sound systems are not designed to handle Rock. And then the the wheels came off. The cd started skipping. A lot of skipping. It took every ounce of self control to not stand up and yell “Re-Mix!” Instead of someone actually realizing that there was a sound issue, they just let it skip. And skip. And Skip. I look at Mrs. Ninjamunkey, and she has a look on her face of pain. After a moment, I realized my face had the same look, and it was not pain, it was contorted to not scream in laughter. After 30-45 seconds of Skid-Skip, someone tried to do the artsy thing and turn down the volume slowly, as if the song was supposed to end that way, on a slow fade of skipping.
After more talking about how the two boys loved to fish and hunt, and sit on a Saturday night with a few beers (I knew the reality was a few beers in the morning, and a few in the evening) and a guitar, they played another song. Again not sure the song, but it was a country song this time, something about when I am gone, there will be a train wreck with my momma who was drunk. Not really, but it was country. It was also on a CD that apparently was used as a beer coaster first, as it was scratched all over and sounding like it was one of the original recordings from Thomas Edison.
Then talk turned to survivors of the boys. Now here is where things are kinda interesting. You see, Jimmy had just gotten engaged to a woman that was also in the fire, but managed to get out in time. (editor note: At this time they are working on bringing criminal charges against the woman for dousing the boys with some sort of flammable, and then lighting the whole thing) Now that woman was actually Jimmy’s brothers ex wife. So had the wedding happened, She would have been her children’ mother and aunt. The other boy had just reconciled with his exwife and was heading to Arkansas to be with her and his children, and this was supposed to be the going away last hurrah for him.
Of course all of this was glossed over in the ceremony, but I kept waiting for a Jerry Springer sort of moment, but none came. You know, the “you stole my husband and my dog and then killed him, the husband not the dog” type of thing. As the service was ending, they played “Every Rose Has it Thorns” by Poison. A fitting choice to end an event such as this.
I am sure at this point, if you don’t know me and are reading this, you are thinking one of several things: 1) Man this guy is a snob and an asshole. I cannot believe he would take something so sacred and make fun of it. 2) This guy would be a blast to hang out with, he is dark and demented 3) Is that you, brother Ninjamunkey?
And how was your weekend???
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)