MATILDA

Hey George!

If you have occasion to see Vonda, DO, by all means send my fondest regards to her.

I knew Charlie and Vonda early on, had very close ties with the birth of their first little little.

Loved them both, all...knew Charlie's brother (and wife) even better for many years.

I hold them all in fondest regard.

Here I is Matilda...in real life, I am..Matilda, lol.

Tell her Reenie sends warmest wishes.

dward (noun)

duh-ward

any dipwad dweeb (duh-weeb), jerk or categorical loser

eg. The Brittany Spears tatoo on his forearm forever marked his dwardom.

dward-i-ness

A Tale of Tobacco Road

Displaced smokers are a stoic lot. Ostracized, and often the target of ridicule, they gather on back porches and in segregated seating sections across the Capital City. Seeing them causes a wave of nicotine nostalgia to sweep over me. Suddenly, I am transported back to the secret places where I'd hide away to suck hot, poison smoke into the soft tissues of my tender, teen-age lungs: the bowling alley, the basement crawlspace, a vacant toilet stall. And-oh yes-on "Tobacco Road."

It was the year men frist walked on the moon and, more importantly, the year I snagged "Big Donny J." He was smooth, with his cool, sleep-eyed stare, Banlon shirt and Stacey Walker shoes. Up until the week before, he was pre-pre-engaged to Nikki Carp, a tightly wound senior with a two-story bouffant and a testy temper; but now I was riding shotgun in his '61 Chevy, ready to make my smoky debut one hub-capless morn on Tobacco Road.

We cruised into view about 7:30 a.m. and parked between Mojo, a James Dean wanna-be on his chopper, and the Spinazolla twins, two identically scarred throwbacks from West Side Story, leaning up against a metal-flecked GTO. Cat's eyes stares from the girls and macho nods of approval from the guys acknowledged our arrival. We smoked-even if we didn't want to. It was our job.

I enjoyed holding court there on the vinyl-covered front seat of the Don-mobile. Fellas with nicknames too stupid to remember came by to pay their respects and offer me a flick of their respective Bics. It was a dangerous business, but fun.

Fun, at least, until an obviously bitter and scorned Nikki Carp exploded through the swirling gray haze blowing smoke through her flared nostrils.

Horrified, I could do nothing as I saw two long-fingered hands with Fu Manchu nails sprung like talons headed my way. There was a pathetic little yelp (which I'm pretty sure came from me), and the next thing I knew, I had been pulled from the car and out onto the gravel road.

Dazed, but not altogether in a fog, I felt the sting of four girly slaps across my face. A screeching-sobbing banshee sound counted each hit.

"This is for Monday. This is for Tuesday. This is for Wednesday. This is for Thursday..." it wailed.

I knew I had to act fast or I'd be dead by the time she got to the weekend.

From the depths within me sprung a surge of survival adrenalin that could fuel any six sissies. In slow motion, I saw my one hand block the "Friday" slap mid-strike, while the other delivered a clean chop to her kisser. The single blow bloodied her lip and sent her wiglet sailing over the roof of the car until it landed on the radio antenna where it twirled like an impaled rat's nest. It left her coiffure with a crater big enough to balance a fruit basket, a visual that will live forever in my mind.

To make matters worse, her face screamed red as she bent over choking on the peppermint my defensive smack knocked down her throat. Instinctively, I gave her a quick kick in the butt to starighten her up and them a sharp slap on the back to dislodge the candy. It shot out of her mouth like a rocket and skipped the surface of the car hood three times before it ricocheted into the forehead of one Sarafino Calabresio, the class skank and female bone-crusher.

Time seemed to stand still as this greaser queen-of-swat thumped toward me, picking the shattered mint from her very furled brow.

I knew my life was over, but before I could hit the dirt groveling, she reached into the front pocket of her cabretta and pulled out a pack of smokes. Her outstretched hand offered me approval, friendship and a light to the cigarette she stuck in my trembling lips.

"Smoke wit me," she insisted. "I think we share da same brand." They were Lucky Strikes.

From that moment on, my reputation was made. No one ever messed with me again. I was McCarthy, the one who could "kickyerazz" without breaking a sweat. I knew long before the Surgeon General ever stamped it on any pack that" "Smoking may be hazardous to your health."

As for sweet Donald? We were an item for a carton or two, but he finally threw me over for some pretty little (smoke-free) Cuban number named Deetda. Go figure.

It's a wonder any of us ever survived teenhood.

(reprint from Tallahassee Magazine 4/99 by Maureen McCarthy)

Copenhagen!

Too funny...too true. Getting that reputation behind you (merited or unmerited) can make or (un)break you.

Your trouncing of the Jumbo dward reminded me of the Tobacco Road story I've posted in the past and will again now, self-indulgent former bully that I am.

Enjoy.

veganese (noun)

vee-gan-eez

an obnoxious diatribe that often accompanies ardent vegetarian activists

eg. The sign on the butcher shop read: "No habla veganese."

At 14, my middle son became a vegetarian. He was concerned that we, his parents, might not approve.

He was relieved when I told him, that we too, are vegetarians...except when we eat meat.

That was over six years ago...he is still the big V...his fiance is not. He has made it a real practicing choice and never proselytizes about animal rites blah blah blah...but pretty much anything with a face he does not ingest. He is currently fighting a anti-defamation suit brought against him by soy beings of america...

Frankly, I wish I didn't like meat products, but there you go...but my reasons for eating far less

meat etc. is not becuz of the animals are (like) people too school of thought, it is becuz of the chemicals and antibiotics and such that they are fed or the condition they are raised in.

Thank God we live in a place where food and food types are so at the ready (sheesh...all that to avoid saying "abundant" or "available"...lol) that we have the choice to be picky.

People jamming things down other people's gullet is always obnoxious, no matter what the issue.

splashification (noun)

splash-i-fi-ca-tion

applied rating system to assess water displacement by cannonballs

eg. Bretta Glutamax's splashification is of olympic note.

lol, sussharkyverb, and thanks

Evan: 'twas a keyed squeezebox aka accordian...but maybe Larson had a theme going...:)

I didn't think so...lol.

Reminds me of a FarSide cartoon one of my favorite professors had on his office door:

1st picture: Newcomer to heaven being greeted by Peter at the Pearly Gate:

"Here's your harp."

2nd picture: New descendent to hell has accordian foisted on him by the devil.

ok...guess you had to be there...lol

cyberspazz (noun) synonymous Proper Noun when referred to as MATILDA

cy-ber-spazz (sigh-bur-spaz)

one befuddled by all things techno with a propensity toward crossed eyes and blurred vision

eg. Repeated unsuccessful attempts to log onto the website left the cyberspazz weary, perplexed, and in need of high octane imbibage.

no feathers ruffled here

Oh boy oh boy...maybe someone hear can help me.

I rally don't know this one...and have forgotten the website that someone gave for finding things according to partial lyrics etc....so....

This one is circa the 70s...lol...male singer, no group...it's about impossible to convey it not knowing the title or full phrases...

"...oh BABE...anyway...what would you say?"

I'm sorry...lol...this is pathetic.

I'll try to listen more carefully to the satellite loop when it comes on again and try and pick up more lyrics.

sheesh...I scare myself sometimes...

just say no to trivia...

...tomorrow

Lo shonta!

Help me Obiwan...

Barkeep, make that a double...no...a virgin...ha!

I have so much to say that I shall say nothing but what I started with...lol...lololo shonta...

Oh yaay...words fitly spoken...lol.

My middle son just started his course of study to become a board (like State Board, not massage board) certified massage therapist.

His thinking is, that by taking 5 months now and becoming certified, he will have a flexible houred means of income when he returns to regular pre-med college track in the Spring.

Viva la rub!

Immodium.

I have wondered if it is good to crap and get it out or stop the leakage.

Unseemly analogy perhaps, but then, the functions of the Body often get messy.

...and as for qualification...I'd like to praise God in some manner not having to be be okayed by the masses and I often curse...lol...period. For me, again...for me, where God was with me, in TWI (a 1,000 yrs. ago already) and post TWI (altho that is not how I catalog my life) is a question still considered.

X

Bllleeeeeech.

Pass the Pepto.

Put a Little Love in Your Heart

Think of your fellow man

Lend him a helping hand

Put a little love in your heart

You see it's getting late

oh please don't hesitate

Put a little love in your heart

And the world will be a better place

yes, the world will be a better place

For you, for me

You just wait and see

************************

It was an innocuous song of the 60s whose simple lyrics are still simple, but good

I only had 30 minutes to spend with Holly before I had to go to work, but on the way home, on the loopty-loo street in my neighborhood on the way to my house, we passed a little motorized scooter chair with a fellow in it who appeared perplexed somehow.

Freakin' Florida heat will kill you if you give it half a chance, especially if you're 84 with a dead battery on your zoom mobile.

He is a vet...Okinowa and the Filipines...had a hat and an American flag on his buggy. His name is Jim Cleese and Holly and I got to help him.

The neat thing was we took him two doors down to another neighbor who goes to the same church as we do (sometimes)...he had what I didn't and Jim needed...a plug with an outlet. Time enuf to recharge and re-energize the oldster in the shade.

A thoroughly worthwhile digression from "the plan" of the day.

Holly thought we done good and that's good enuf for me.

Here's to Jackie DeShannon and that dumb butt song she used to sing...lol...not so dumb after all. :)-->

All is well (thankfully) on the southwest Florida coast (Ft. Myers, Naples area)...rainy and gray, but no power outages or (other than normal seasonal) tropical scuffles.

The natives are restless, make no mistake. No one makes light of these bad blowhards anymore. Many, many people and whole areas are still reeling (or just starting to near some normalcy) after last year's quint hits.

Whereas I am relieved that we are out of Dennis' reach, my heartfelt prayers go to any and all in the current anticipated path.

Prayer is always good.

Best b-day wishes, Geo! Enjoy!

A neat adventure...another fold in a textured life...the best of luck and encouragement to you and (not to be forgotten) Steve...becuz, as you know doubt know, his support in all is crucial.

Ginoskoing here...when we started our post graduate work at FSU, we had a small kidlet.

I was teaching there, studying there, and (by the second year) pregnant there...it's doable.

Ph.Ds, ABDs, MFAs, MAs...you name it...we gots it...lol...we have all manner of dee-greez hanging on most every crack of our walls down here in sunny Floweeda. We is very smurt...so smurt weez dumb sometimes...lol.

Lots of stories...but the heart of it is, yew kin do-wheat, and hopefully, do it well.

Here's to you!

p.s ...and on the baby front, I was a full 45 when Holly took us over...no regrets :)-->

...hence the name crock pot...

...and as for the CrapperCafe, I wonder if the bus boys bus with a brush...:)-->

Herradura covers what Harry Wong misses.

Bert Lancaster...lol

Pirate, you be good.

...to add another thought or two since I can so relate to your pleasant anticipations...

My Dad o'Dad had life long deep ties and a loyalty that was forged in college, not unlike yours, to some degree:)--> except it was Annapolis (USNA).

Just a thin, bright line in life's strata that can happily illuminate the rest of the layers...that's what great friendships and sometime brief alliances can infuse.

And, at the risk of being greasedspottified, I have to say I would feel the same way you do about your reunion, if I were to be contacted by some of my MIA TWI blips...we did have a great time, often...and many of those I knew and laughed and lived with, I miss.

Thanks for sharin', Marxman...it boomeranged some neat remembrances and flashbacks!

I wonder where my pal Micky Antonelli is...he should be out about now....lol.