deadly_diabetic

Mystical Meeting...

2005-10-01T00:37:02Z

It’s an odd thing to have an encounter with such a popular entity as the Missed-you-while-you-were-away fairy. I had heard rumors from such reliable places like www.reliableumors.com and www.yeahthatstheticket.com but to come home and find him in the middle of his work was a wonder to behold. Actually, he was taking a snooze on the couch and when you find someone who looks like this:

lying on your couch, it can be quite traumatic.

I told Maggie to jump on him but she only looked at me and wagged her tail. Luckily when she wagged her tail it hit the coffee table with enough force to create a loud bang which in turn woke up the Missed-you-while-you-were-away fairy (though I obviously didn’t know that’s who he was at the time.) However, he awoke with such a start that he leaped over the end table ran into one of the bedrooms and locked the door. After roughly an hour of convincing him that I was not one of the Easter Bunny’s “goons” he decided to come out.

As he stepped into the hallway I swore I could smell a pungent combination of Bratwurst, beer, Phillies Blunts, and True Love by Elizabeth Arden. I couldn’t help but look down as his gut pressed hard against mine in the tight space of the hallway and I wondered if the yellowish brown stain on his pink tutu was mustard or something more sinister.

He introduced himself as The Missed-you-while-you-were-away fairy (heretofore referred to as “Ted” though no first name was ever given) and told me that my subconscious mind had created a psychic link to him through the agony of being without my wife for an entire week. At which point I reminded him that I am a thoroughly qualified senior psychology major that had heard the word psychic at least twice and was relatively sure it was a bunch of malarkey. He then leveled with me that he was secretly running a scam by which he was stealing the teeth of little kids before the tooth fairy could get there and selling them on the black market to the Keeblers. As soon as he said their name he hunched over grabbing his wand and scanned the hallway peering as hard as he could. He told me that the Keeblers were sneaky and it would be in my best interest not to bring the subject up again. I was about to remind him that I had not brought up the subject in the first place but he brushed past me and making his way into the master bedroom.

As I turned around to follow him there was a brilliant flash of hot-pink and hair (it was kind of like the chicken dance after an eight ball) and out of no where came this bag:

He told me that he believed that my wife deserved this present and if I accepted I waived all right to litigate at a later date. I accepted. It was amazing to me that they would use the exact same retail outlets that we use, so I asked him about it. He started to explain the economy of trying to run a labor force that could produce anything a person might desire. There was this cost and that cost, let alone labor. He seemed to know quite a bit about the subject and kept talking as he made his way toward the door. As he was leaving he started talking about how the Christmas elves used to work with them but then there was some sort of armed revolt which was how the “you-know-who’s” (he signed the letter K) got involved.

He was on his way out the door thanking me for not turning him over to “Hoppy’s Gang” when I asked him if there wasn’t something a little more formal that he might be able to wrap the present in. I told him that it wasn’t that I was ungrateful but presentation has a lot to do with gift giving occasions. So he sighed a deep, irritated sigh and headed back to the bedroom. With a flick of his wand there was a bright flash, a loud crack, and a slightly used plain white box was sitting on the bed:

I told him that the package looked eerily familiar to the package used by the Oh-crap-it’s-the-morning-of-your-birthday-,-I-forgot-to-buy-a-giftbag-and-I-have-the-gift-wrapping-abilities-of-a-babbon fairy (heretofore referred to as Jean D’Aubigne though no name was ever given). He told me that he was related.

As I was finally allowing him to leave, I suddenly realized that I had meant to go and get a haircut but now it was too late. I told him of my predicament and the little yellowish spot on his tutu began to sparkle. As it turns out, he had always dreamed of becoming a “stylist” but had never had the grades for it in school. Before I could begin to inquire about the academic requirements of beauty school, he rubbed his hands over the stain on his shirt and tussled them through my hair like a man driven by static electricity. Afterwards, he told me to go look in the mirror. To my amazement my hair was cut in its usual style but had this shimmery glow about it. I began to thank him adamantly but he told me that I needed to go quickly and take a hot shower. I refused. I told him that I thought Melanie would like my shimmering hair. Then he told me that the last person who had not taken a shower used to be buxom beautiful brunette woman and that I knew who she was. I thought as hard as I could and said, “You mean ____ (if you are a brunette you may put your name here)?” And he said, “No, Carrot top.” At which point I ran to the shower.

Now I have a wonderful present for Mel when she gets home and my hair looks like someone with Parkinson’s has taken a bleach marker to my head. What an eventful day.

-DD

Oh and for those of you that want to know what the fairy brought her:

It looks a little red in the picture but it’s really more of a burnt-orange. Plus it is corduroy. She tried it on last weekend and it looks great.

Just a random opinion...

2005-09-05T05:47:23Z

I usually don't get into political posts, actually I usually don't post, but all the recent talk of racism has got me a little sad so I thought I'd share some observations. I wish that people would stop calling the actions of the federal government racially motivated. Don't get me wrong, I think they royally botched the job and I'm not a fan of W, but it is by far one of the least intelligent comments I've heard in a long time. Furthermore all it does it hurt those that really are the victims of racism, it's "Chicken Little" syndrome. By definition racism is when one group of people receive different treatment (either positive or negative) based solely on their racial makeup. In this case, no NOLA citizen has received anything that resembled good treatment regardless of race. Beyond which, the communities in MS that were hit by Katrina and are predominantly white in demographic have received no better treatment than those in NOLA. If one wants to say that it is “classism” because only the poor were the ones that suffered then I can certainly get behind that but to say that it was racially motivated seems to define logic (at least as far as logic is applicable). To me the word racist should be a word that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. It should cause my blood pressure to rise and my cheeks to turn red. I believe that it should become such a visceral reaction that anyone given the label should cause a ferocious rage just at the mention of their name. Instead, tragically, it gets tossed around so loosely that it holds barely a reaction at all anymore and that is a travesty to all people who suffered in the name civil equality. I feel a large sense of remorse for those that gave it all for the beautiful ideal of equality just to see our generation use the description of the vile conditions they endured so flippantly. Whether or not you like Bush (and there is plenty not to like about him) I would urge people to seriously consider what the label "racist" means and never forget those that suffered so that it could someday, hopefully, be lost to the antiquity of time.

I know that I’ll probably be flamed for this by someone claiming I've drank the presidential kool-aid but this post really is not meant to be a defense of George W. Bush or any of his (in)actions.

-DD

Oh what a giggle fest...

2005-05-21T04:56:50Z

I went and saw Star Wars Episode Three this afternoon and although I did enjoy the movie (the best of the prequels without a doubt) I would like to relay my favorite piece of dialog from the movie.

Just to set the stage here, Obi-Wan is confronting Anakin face-to-face for the first time since he became Darth Vader. Now here are the two lines that made me bust out laughing, though I was the only one in the theater that thought it was humorous (but I have to admit it was in the afternoon in the middle of Mississippi):

Anakin (to Obi-wan): "If you are not with me, then you are against me!"
Obi-wan (in reply): "Only a Sith deals in absolutes!"

(Enter hysterical laughter and the rest of the theater looking at me like I was crazy)

Here's how the rest of that dialog concluded in my head:

Anakin (in a horrible Eddie Izzard Cockney accent): "Haha, that means you a Sith too!"
Obi-wan (in Eddie Izzard's God voice, a.k.a James Mason): "I am not!"
Anakin : "Are so!"
Obi-wan: "Am not times a thousand!"
Anakin : "No, no. See you said only Sith deal in absolutes."
Obi-wan : "Yeah, and?"
Anakin : "By saying 'Only sith' that is an absolute statement, therefore making you a Sith by your own definition!"
Obi-wan : "Well...."
Anakin : "Ah...."
Obi-wan : "But..."
Anakin (jumping up and down and clapping like a little school girl) : "You're a sith, you're a sith!"
Obi-wan : "Damn, foiled by irrefutable logic!"
Anakin : "Hey, let's go call Master Yoda and see if we can fool him too. Then we can all be Sith together and it'll be like a secret club! We can have our own secret handshake and everything. Well, as long as it's a handshake that I can do with the driod hand and all."
Obi-wan : "Brilliant! But don't forget to do the inverted sentence thing or it may not work."
Anakin : "Ah fug it, let's just go have tea."
Obi-wan : "Quite right."

Please tell me that I was not the only one who found that exchange (the real one in the movie) so ironic as to be hilarious.

My annual post

2005-05-04T03:48:01Z

Okay well at the encouragement of okp and seeing that manzilla has recently also started a journal I thought I would go ahead and get my annual post out of the way.

First, I just want to touch on why I am such an infrequent poster/reader. To start I am paralyzed by options. There is no real moderator here and there is also no formal subject listings so I am free to ramble. This means that I have no idea where to start and furthermore I sincerely doubt that anyone wants to read my ramblings anyway. Especially with such an intellectually gifted (and witty) group as yourself. I just don't know that I really have anything insightful to add, unlike my wife who is the Patron Saint of Disarmingly Insightful Self-Intuition (thanks Helen). Anyone who used to check our forums from the old gaming community knows that I can be quite wordy and robust in my posts but all of those topics where ones that had a direction (except one really long topic dedicated to one planx_constant). Lastly, I get very invested in people and communities when I decide to become a part of them. This usually manifests itself in obsessively checking the forums (or livejournal) and replying to every post and topic out there. However, I think there should only be one person obsessed with livejournal in a family at a time and I think my wife deserves this outlet much more than myself.

Lastly, I just want to say that my family background is colorful to say the least. I was told about a year ago that my ancestors (actually my great-great-great-great-great grandfather and his two brothers) the Yocums had minted their own trade coinage in the Northern Arkansas and the amount of pure silver used in that coin led to rumors of a silver mine in the hills of Arkansas. Supposedly it was the legend of this silver dollar and it's mysterious mine that created Silver Dollar City in Branson, MO. Since my wife and I recently took a trip to Branson, I wanted confirmation of this story. So I went about doing some research and this is what I found:

http://www.cityofbransonwest.com/historybw.shtml (I especially like the two actors pictured at the bottom of the page who are dressed up to portray my great-great-great-great-great grandfather and grandmother. The indian outfit is cute.)
http://www.rootsweb.com/~armarion/stories/yocumdollar.htm (In this one, I liked how a government official calls my relatives "outlaws." Atleast I know that I come by my disposition naturally ;) )

A couple other notes of interest with this part of my family. When I found out about this, I also found out that we had a family history of slave ownership and I have to say that when I found out, it broke my heart. I hate to think that my relatives were responsible for the repression of another intelligent race but I guess there's nothing you can do about the past. In their defense (although the act itself is indefensible) they were very well known for treating their slaves well. One example of this id the fact that they buried them by name in the family cemetery along side the rest of the family, which was unheard of in those days. Additionally, one of the young girls (who would be like my great-great-great-great aunt) decided that she could no longer sit by and allow her family to be slave owners so she decided that she would set them free and run away with them. She ordered them to stop their duties and to follow her. They did as they were told because they were bound to; however by the time it got dark the girl realized that they had no shelter or food. So the slaves talked her into returning home...she was eight years old at the time. Once again nice to see that I get my willfulness naturally. It seems that any of the yocums that did fight in the Civil War fought on the side of the North and they were one of the first families in the area to emancipate their slaves. Once again this does not forgive their actions but it does paint a less grim picture. They also opened up their home as a medical facility to wounded soldiers during a small skirmish along the White River.

Last thing and then it will be the end of my yearly post. The female shown in the indian outfit on the first website is my grandmother but she was only half indian so the amount of native american genetics that I have in me is very small. Less than 1% if I calculated correctly. But my family is trying to find out more about her and her bloodline. The interesting thing is that supposedly there is a connection between her and the head of the Delaware Indaian tribe. The problem is that the Delaware didn't keep the kind of records that are easy to trace. Furthermore, there is speculation that the way the tribes handled it was that tribes were all considered family even if there was no blood relation. In other words there were many tribes of Delware Indians but one tribe contained the Chief of the Delaware Indian nation. So then it is possible that my grandmother was just descended from his tribe and not necessarily any blood relation. I just found it an interesting way to think about family.

That's it. Talk to everyone next year.

Close to Closing...

2004-07-13T19:22:19Z

I haven't posted in a while so I thought I'd just stop and say "Howdy" to all the lj'ers out there. OKP and I close on our house here in hernando today and although we both know that we are headed in the right direction, I can't help but feel a little sad. This house has seen some amazingly good times and I will never forget some of the dinner parties we had here, especially the Lewis-Tyson fight.

Just wanted to take a moment and personally thank everyone for making my life what it is today. I wouldn't be where I am if it wasn't for each and every one of you, and for that you will forever have my love, gratitude, and admiration.

Thanks.

-DD

Time alone...

2004-07-07T03:23:42Z

OKP's post made me think about what my expectations of "alone time" are these days. I don't think it is nearly as hard for me as it is for her because I've had a number of months to get used to it. Usually my only human interaction during OKP's work day is from six o'clock to nine o'clock when she comes home from work and even then she is usually exhausted from her day. Now please don't misunderstand me here, she has every right to be tired and that should not be an issue at all, I only mention it to say that even that interaction can be at times somewhat subdued as she tries to relax from a trying day at work. For me the loneliness is something all together different. It derives from not having someone to hold, caress, hug, or kiss on the cheek when I come to bed. Not having someone to look at when I invariably wake up at a quarter til four in a cold sweat because someone was trying to kill me (again!). OKP is the corporeal embodiment of any self encouragement that I've ever mustered and where ever she goes, there too goes all my confidence.

-DD

Inagural Post

2004-07-06T08:23:56Z

Well this is it, I've finally given in and signed up for a live journal account. Let me explain why I resisted for so long:

1.) Misconception - At first I viewed live journal more like an online diary rather than the online forum that it truly seems to be. mnem0syne and I had a conversation about this once and it basically came down to this: One of the reasons that one usually keeps a diary (or a think journal as I once called it) is that it affords the individual a certain expectation of privacy which therefore results in an honest opinion of both one's self and those around them. Therefore, knowing that anything written here would instantly viewable by friends it seemed to take away that ability to be completely honest. Additionally, one of the most fascinating things about keeping a think journal is the idea that someday someone might actually read it. It's like people who enjoy having sex in public places because of the excitement of possibly getting caught. Although one had the reasonable expectation of privacy there was always that fearful anticipation that someone (especially one written harshly of) would find the journal and stumble upon your true feelings for that person. Once again, without the expectation of privacy that exciting\fearful anticipatory feeling would never be there.

2.) Not to intrude - This place seems like it was a good place for OKP to come and communicate and keep up with everyone and I didn't want to intrude upon that. I never looked at anyone's posts and therefore it gave OKP an avenue to vent if she wanted to with out worry about whether or not I would see it.

3.) Didn't want to seem like an idiot - Let's face it, there is a veritable boatload of of highly intellectual and well spoken (or in this case typed) individuals amoungst this group and that in and of itself can be quite intimidating. I don't think anyone has ever gravitated toward me because of my mental prowess but rather because of my demeanor and if there is one thing that is hard to convey over this sort of medium, it is demeanor.

4.)Wordy bitch - As anyone who frequented our former clan forum can tell you, I'm a wordy bitch. So my posts tend to be quite lengthy and I KNOW that gets on people's nerves. SO for all the time that the endeavor will waste of yours, I'm truly sorry.

Despite all this, I've decided to go ahead and get an lj so that I can keep up communication with friends after OKP and I move to Jackson. Speaking of Jackson, this will be the subject of my first post: living in borrowed space.

There was something odd about coming "home" on this past Friday. I had been longing for my bed, my pillow, my full sized TV, and most importantly my broadband internet service. Yet when we pulled into the garage early Friday evening there was an uneasiness in the house that I was not used to. You see, all the previous week OKP and I had been looking at homes in Jackson, putting a contract on a house, and talking about all the renovations we wanted to do to our new "home." And there it is, the crux of it: you only truly have one home.

Seeing this house and being in it was liking seeing an old best friend that had somehow over time turned into an acquaintance. You feel bound by some unspoken set of rules to say "Hi" and to make small talk. Both of you thinking about what it was like when you knew the details of each other's lives intimately, when you thought your futures lie along the same path and nothing could be done or said that could change that. Still you make polite conversation. You both think of what it would be like if you had stayed close over the years. Would it be you that was them on this particular night? Would your life be better or worse? Yet after all the discrete speculation, you want nothing more than to shake each other's hand, promise to try and keep in touch, and move forward with the rest of your life. You want to quit bastardizing a relationship that waws once so important and sacred. This is how I feel in this house right now. It is no longer my home but the new house isn't mine yet either. I'm in a state of limbo and I want nothing more than to show up on the 13th of this month, close on this house and say "goodbye my dearest acquaintance", close on the house down in Jackson on the 23rd and say "Hello home."

-DD

P.S. - In actuality part of the loss is beause OKP and I are spending time apart during this and no matter where we are my home is where ever her head hits the pillow.