What's On Your Mind, Gorilla?

Did you ever look at a gorilla and wonder what it's thinking? Probably not. But I've wondered. Of course, I have. Because I'm that guy.

Anyway...based on my "highly developed skills" of observation and imagination, I have determined what's actually going on in the minds of these hairy guys and gals. Enjoy...

"Tell me the truth: Does this rock make me look fat?"

"Why are you smiling? Do you really find seizures amusing?"

"I pooped today. Do I get a sticker?"

 "Yes, in fact, I am 'picking and grinning'..."

"I'm very disappointed in you, General Petraeus."

"Laid back...with my mind on my money and my money on my mind."

"This is my foot. You didn't need it anyway."

"I see your point. But you are wrong. End of discussion."

"Hi there, little lady. Come here often? Can I buy you a banana?"

"This is why I'm hot."

"Hi-Yo, Silver! Away!"

"You know you want me, ladies."

"No one says that about my mother and gets away with it. No one!"

"Nanny, nanny, boo, boo!"

"I'll see you in your nightmares!"

Things You'll Never Hear Me Say

1)  Please pass the rutabagas!

2)  Hey DJ, play that Neil Sedaka song again!

3)  I never liked a woodchuck I didn't meet.

4)  Sure, I'd love to hang curtains with you!

5)  No, thanks, I'd rather walk to work.

6)  Am I on time again?

7)  Miley Cyrus, oh how I love you!

8)  Let's watch the Here Comes Honey Boo Boo marathon!

9)  My, how I love cleaning the litter box!

10)  The Justin Bieber concert tickets went on sale this morning, and I was first in line!

Songs By Bands With Animal Names, Vol. 1

I just decided this morning to start a new mini-series of posts featuring songs by bands with animals in their names. Once I got into it, I realized there were way too many of these for just one post. So I've decided to break it down by the types of animals. This post will include canines, felines, and hooved animals. I don't know yet how many of these posts there will end up being, but there will definitely be more. A wide variety of musical styles, both old and new, are represented here. Enjoy!


THE CANINES


1)  Three Dog Night  ~  "Eli's Coming"

2)  Temple Of The Dog  ~  "Hunger Strike"

3)  Fleet Foxes  ~  "White Winter Hymnal"

4)  Snoop Dogg  ~  "I Wanna Rock"

5)  Skinny Puppy  ~  "Pro-Test"

THE FELINES


1)  Cat Power  ~  "Cherokee"

2)  Cat Stevens  ~  "Moonshadow"

3)  The Pussycat Dolls  ~  "Stickwitu"

4)  White Lion  ~  "When The Children Cry"

5)  John Cougar Mellencamp  ~  "Jack & Diane"

6)  Stray Cats  ~  "Rock This Town"

HOOVED ANIMALS


1)  Zebrahead  ~  "The Juggernauts"

2)  Sparklehorse  ~  "Gold Day"

3)  Caribou  ~  "She's The One"

4)  Gov't Mule  ~  "Beautifully Broken"

5)  Giraffes? Giraffes!  ~  "When The Catholic Girls Go Camping, The Nicotine Vampires Rule Supreme"

6)  Buffalo Springfield  ~  "For What It's Worth"

7)  Spacehog  ~  "In The Meantime"

8)  Zebra  ~  "Who's Behind The Door?"

Rhyme With Reason: House-Hunting Words

If you've ever read one of my "Rhyme With Reason" posts in the past, you'll already know that I am going to list a series of words which rhyme which are related in some way to each other or tie into a unified theme.

As you may remember from the day before yesterday, my wife and I are attempting to find a new place to live in a little over four weeks, when the sale of our current house closes. We've seen at least 12 houses in a two-night period now, so some of them are running together in our minds, while a select few truly stand out.

Today's theme will be words that can be used to describe our house-hunting experience. Some words may describe the houses themselves, while others may describe our thoughts and feelings in relation to this harrowing process of house-hunting.


1)  Dated:  Some of the houses were older and hadn't been updated since the 1970s or 1980s. Those were not such great choices for us. You might also say that they were outdated.


2)  Bated:  For about 48 hours (between Sunday afternoon and Tuesday evening), we waited with bated breath to see if the potential buyers of our house were going to accept our counteroffer or propose a counteroffer of their own. (They counteroffered, we countered back, and struck a deal.)


3)  Hated:  There was one house out in the country that looked like it was literally falling apart. We didn't make it past the front threshold before realizing that we hated it.


4)  Elated:  When we found out that our counteroffer to their counteroffer had been accepted, we were elated.


5)  Gated:  Our budget is not nearly large enough to live in a gated community. So we haven't even looked in any of those.


6)  Overrated:  Some houses we've seen are priced way above tax value for no discernible reason. Maybe it's the location or maybe it's just overzealous sellers, but these houses are overrated and their prices are inflated. What we need to find is a house that's excellent inside and out, but is priced well below tax value. In other words, a house that is underrated.


7)  Vacated:  Many of the houses we've looked at have already been vacated by the previous owners. Which makes it much easier to envision our stuff in the space. You might say these houses have been blank-slated.


8)  Slated:  Speaking of which, we are slated to see another handful of houses this afternoon and tonight. Hopefully, seeing even more houses in a short amount of time will help us make our decision and not cause us to become jaded (okay, it's a near rhyme, but work with me here).


9)  Debated:  After seeing several lower-priced houses on Monday, we debated about increasing our budget a bit to include houses that were more "move-in ready." Ultimately, we decided we might be able to afford a little bit more, which created a lot more options for us.


10)  Negated:  Some houses had huge bedrooms but a smaller kitchen and living spaces, both of which are extremely important to us. In these houses, the negatives all but negated the positives. And we ruled them out.


11)  Deflated:  At the end of a three-hour marathon session of house-hunting, we are quite exhausted and overloaded with information. We feel deflated, mentally and physically. At the same time, we're almost thinking too much to be able to relax and sleep well. In other circumstances (like, if one of the two of us wasn't seven months pregnant), we might do well to be sedated.


12)  Fated:  I don't believe in fate, per se, but for the sake of rhyming, we'll simply say that the house that we're fated to live in is out there somewhere. We may have seen it already, or we may see it for the first time tonight or tomorrow or Saturday. God's will is going to be done in all this, no matter how hard the process may be in getting there. We're trusting, we're praying, we're thinking, and we're looking. And it will happen. In His timing.

I Don't Think That's What They Meant To Say!

I don't know about you, but I need a good laugh. Enjoy!

Children cutting? Messes? What kind of saloon is this?

I think the "bitten thing" is the finger, but I'm not sure.

The sad thing is, they might have meant to say exactly that.

I've heard of living on a strict budget, but that's ridiculous!

It could be worse, I suppose. I've heard that

yellow potatoes are the harshest ones of all.

To prevent poaching in or around this pond, 

trespassers will be boiled. Loiterers will be baked.

I think it's too late. You seem to be hurt

permanently. And it's not that pretty.

What is it? An aphrodisiac wristwatch? I don't understand!

Fierce monkeys that steal your "belonging"? How 

will you ever find your place in this world again?

A "Blood-Condensed Friendship Pavilion"? A "Blood-Sacrificing 

Small Shop"? A Communist's idea of fun is not my idea of fun!

Maybe it is (for guys, at least). But where are

they hiding the most beautiful toilet paper?

If I'm dying, what do I care if the chair is "on position" 

or the table is cleaned? Someone else will have to deal 

with my refuse. Thanks for your very large company.

"Celebrate Recession - Hang Yourself!" Well,

why not? After all, it is Strawberry Season!

The proper translation here should have been:

"No Chicken Littles allowed beyond this point."

Yes, but what does the "tiny little cute store" on

Freak Street sell? Besides Coca-Cola, I mean.

I'm very good at this. Though I'm not always careful.

Not a bad price for Fresh Crap. But wait

just one second here – those are fishes!

Aww, poor little guy! I've got an extra hoodie in my car.

This is it. The end of the line for deformed men everywhere.

So, just a little then? Well, at least they're honest...

It says the same thing in seven different languages, so everyone

can know that they're not lost. Because the sign says you aren't.

This is so sad. I can't stand to see innocent vegetables suffering.

In this "very gourmetic world," it's comforting to know that

there's a place you can go that's full of "dream" and "Roman."

NOTE: The "Keep [Blade] Out Of Children" rule does not apply

if you happen to find yourself in the Super Saloon (see above).

Girlstalking is okay, but not girlhunting. That's what

dark, secluded allies are for. (Lighten up, I'm kidding!)

Duly noted. Out of curiosity, were they actually supposed to be socks?

Some people do think with theirs...

"Yes, I would like a 2 x 4 and a dime bag, please."

Don't worry your pretty little head about 

it! I wasn't too uninconvenienced by it.

Wealthy people are dangerous and lumpy.

And are not welcome in this establishment.

Unless you can't read the above language.

Then you're sufficiently dead meat!

That's alright. He was probably just bringing a

bunch of junkmale anyway. Good riddance!

Mine isn't religion-free, but it is nondenominational.

Um...

I think I just lost my appetite.

Please wait till you hear the body drop before proceeding.

Apparently, crime pays.

There's tons more of these on the Internet.

But this is enough for one day...

Overwhelmed

Forgive the short sentences. They're all I can manage today. You'll see why.

I took the day off yesterday. My wife was already off for Veteran's Day. But it was not a day off. Far from it.

This is what we knew going into the weekend. We had an OB/GYN appointment at 10:00 yesterday morning. We had to drop the car off to be serviced at 1:30. We had a hospital tour scheduled for 7:30.

Then Saturday happened. Or Saturday night, rather.

We get a phone call from our Realtor telling us we have an offer on the house. A low offer. A very low offer. Like twelve thousand dollars too low. Which is fifteen percent of the asking price. Yeah, not happening.

The phone call comes less than an hour before we plan to be asleep. Good luck with that.

Crunch the numbers. Figure the expenses. Try to come up with a figure that will let us break even. (If we can forget about losing any equity we had in the house. And we can't.) It could be worse, we know. But it could be better.

We sleep on it, though not so soundly. The next day, we seek advice from friends and family.

We come up with a number, and propose a counteroffer. Sunday. In the afternoon. Today is Tuesday. In the afternoon. Still no response on the counteroffer. Waiting is fun. Not.

Oh yeah, and the prospective buyers want to close in three weeks. Problem there – we have nowhere else to live. We can't get a loan and close in three weeks. Not gonna happen.

They will have to flexible on the closing date or there is no deal. Or we will have to move to an apartment (not ideal, but not the end of the world). Or we will need to find a house quickly and hope for the best on the timing.

Foreseeing a busy day ahead, I take off the entire day on Monday. Too much to do, too little time in which to do it. We make appointments with our Realtor that morning to see four houses that interest us.

We start the day with the OB/GYN appointment. It's our first time having a non-stress test, to be followed immediately by an ultrasound. All goes well with both tests. Baby is big (eighty-ninth percentile) but otherwise healthy.

The appointment takes longer than expected and we have just enough time to run home, grab the other car, and drop it off at the car dealership for servicing, then grab a bite to eat (in the car) before meeting with our Realtor.

We spend the next four hours looking at houses, in hopes that the sale of our house will go through. One house we'd previously fallen in love with online proves to be equally perfect inside and out, but... Our Realtor has found out that approximately thirty-thousand dollars worth of structural repairs need to be done. And we quickly fall out of love.

We see a couple of houses that are too in disrepair to be seriously considered.

We see another, newer house that's fine upstairs, but weird downstairs. And very, very small.

We see another house that simply won't work for us, layout-wise.

We see another house that's almost perfect. But it has a smaller kitchen than the one we currently have in our townhouse. Deal-breaker.

Returning to the real estate office, we talk to a mortgage lender who shares office space with the Realtors, but is otherwise unaffiliated with them. He runs our credit, finds it to be very good (we're not surprised), and pre-approves us for a loan.

We crunch numbers. We realize that we could possibly afford more house than we previously thought. Like one that's move-in ready. After all, we're running short on time – baby's coming, ready or not.

We talk more with our Realtor, who shares a number of other listings with us that are just outside of our previous budget. Information overload. Good information, no doubt. But by now brains are exploding. And they are ours.

Armed with flyers out the wazoo (a scientifically unverifiable body part), we leave to pick up the car (which has been ready for hours). Now we only have time to grab another quick bite to eat before heading to the hospital for the prenatal tour.

I order food, while Mary picks up prescriptions across the street. We scarf furiously. And onward to Vidant.

Heads swimming with information, we absorb even more for the next hour and a half. My legs hurt, my back and neck hurt, and I'm falling down sleepy. And I'm not the pregnant one. She's in even worse shape.

We finally make it back home forty-five minutes shy of twelve hours since we originally left the house.

Then the phone rings. Our friend, who's planning our baby shower that's happening in two and a half weeks, wants to know where we're registered. We're not. Amongst all the madness, we haven't gotten around to doing it. And don't know what to register for anyway. (We're getting help, though.)

Nice! One more thing to worry about. We promise to register this weekend, and we will.

After the four-hour childcare class on Saturday morning. Assuming we're not packing up boxes and trying to move out of house and home.

And next week's Thanksgiving. Which we're hosting. Maybe. I can't even think about that yet.

Surviving this week is top priority. And maybe just surviving in general.

POSTSCRIPT  –  A 5-Song Soundtrack To Our Life At The Present Time

Flash Fiction: "Regrets"

I wrote this short story a long time ago, probably as far back as high school. I didn't even remember writing it until I started re-reading it recently. It's extremely clichéd in places, and definitely shows signs of an inexperienced writer, but I'm not terribly embarrassed of it in general. I corrected my own grammar in a few places and updated some of my original word choices, but overall it's the same piece I wrote over 15 years ago. Enjoy!

"REGRETS"

The streets seemed endless on that muggy November morning. The man felt like he'd been walking for years, but it had only been a few hours. The man could not remember when or why he had started walking. He just knew – or felt – he was running away from something or someone.

He sought shelter in a secluded alley near 35th Street, and his once-agile body collapsed in a near-lifeless heap. Exhaustion had set in, and he knew he could not go on. It didn't take long for sleep to come. And with sleep, dreams. 

Behind closed eyelids, the man saw himself as a child. He watched himself storming off, spouting obscenities at his mother as she stood there, resentful teardrops streaming down her cheeks. He couldn't remember what he had done to her, but he knew that it was the first time he had ever seen her cry. And it hurt him that he'd hurt her.

Then the man envisioned himself once again; this time he was older, but not by much. He was standing beside a beautiful young woman at the altar of a grand cathedral, as hundreds of friends and family looked on. They had come to witness the joining of these two young people who by all appearances seemed to be the epitome of happiness, innocence, and everything that was good in life. Six months later, when their child was born, the shock had been so great for the man's mother that she would spend the remainder of her days in a rest home, though she was only 47 when she was admitted.

Then the man saw himself in more recent years, behind steel bars, sharing his troubles with his 300-pound cellmate, a convicted ax murderer. The man was telling his "friend" about how he'd abandoned his wife and child, traveled across the country, robbing grocery stores and convenient stores along the way, and had finally been caught red-handed standing over the dead body of a decrepit old woman who'd refused to give him her purse.

This startling vision jolted him out of his reverie. The man looked around him. The secluded alley was still secluded. Then seemingly out of nowhere, a hooded figure appeared before him. The face was obscured in shadows, but the eyes were vividly visible. These were the eyes of his heartbroken mother. 

He stared deep into the eyes again. This time they were the eyes of his young bride, innocently mirroring his own appearance. He turned away from the figure, but curiosity compelled to turn back and take one last glance.

With great surprise, he found himself peering into his own eyes. The hooded figure, it seemed, was now none other than himself.

"Why?" he eagerly asked the hooded figure, frowning in disbelief. The eyes spoke to him, without words. Suddenly, he understood everything.

He realized that the person now standing before him was the person he might have been. If he'd only turned away when he'd first confronted temptation. If he'd only chosen right instead of wrong. He could have been someone else. Instead, he'd lived each day acting out someone else's life.

The man bowed his head in shame, yielding to the despair that had quickly consumed his entire being. He looked up to find that he was alone again. He knew that he would always be alone now. Because this was the life he had chosen.

And with a deep sigh of utter regret, he breathed his last breath.