Tag: family relationships

Thanksgiving Shits And Giggles Featuring Woody Scream

Well We are Finally getting Our shit together since We got clusterfucked in-between a fucking a Surreal Road Trip and the Thankless Toils of the Thanksgiving Holidays. I’m currently working on a Post pertaining to the Aforementioned Road Trip, but it’s Slow Going since it’s such an Infuriating Story I have to take frequent breaks so I don’t Actually Punch My Computer Screen. That aside I felt the need to Address the Utter Nonsensical Onslaught of the so called Holiday Season in the Meantime. To Keep some sort of Order and Assemble some sort of fucking Sanity I will be Using the FYB Tried and True Bullet Point Format.

  • Pre Show Prep: My Wife and I have been Drafted over the Recent Years into the Unwelcoming Ranks of Holiday Responsibilities and Assorted Bullshit. So this Includes the Relentless Cleaning Up the House in Preparation of the Forthcoming Company. This obviously makes fucking Sense, and We have No Qualm with Doing. The Problem is My Micro Managing Obsessive and Franticly Stressed Mother who can make You Feel like You’re Losing Your goddamn Mind since Her Anxiety is fucking Infectious. She whips Herself up into a fucking Frenzy Running around like a fucking Lunatic starting Numerous Projects Simultaneously while Simultaneously Finishing None of Them. It’s what We unaffectionately refer to as My Mother’s Manic Host Mode where She acts like Her Life and Reputation is Teetering on the Brink if Her House isn’t Absolutely Spotless and has been Cleaned to the Highest Hospital Standards.

The Funny thing is It’s just Family Who are the Mellowest and Undemanding House Guests You can Have for fuck’s sake. My Mother seems to be Operating under some delightfully Demented Assumption that if The Family Arrives to find even a Single Speck of Dirt on the Bottom Stair (leading up to the Front Porch) It’s All Over in an Instant. As if My Fellow Family Members would Cast a Disgusted eye Upon the Psec of Dirt, Turn Around on Their Heel, March back to Their Cars, Lod up, and Yell before Speeding Off into the fucking Distance “WHAT A FILTHY HELLHOLE! SERIOUSLY FUCK YOU GUYS AND YOUR PIG STY! WE WILL NEVER SET FOOT ON THIS SOIL AGAIN AND WE DISOWN EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU DISAPPOINTING AND FILTHY FUCKERS!!!” It’s Insanity Incarnate.

               

THE KIDS: The Two Boys are Still just Shy of becoming Teenagers and as So were Willing to Speak and Interact with Us on a Consistent Basis during the Trip. Meanwhile Their Sister being 16 Years Old is Undoubtedly a Full Blown fucking Teenager. She had Her Face in Her Phone the Entire fucking Time because Her Life currently is all About Socializing and Friends, Friends, and More fucking Friends! I do have to give Credit where Credit is Due for Her Part She refrained from being the Classic Anti-Social Hormonal Horror Show Three Ring Circus of Bullshit. The Trip was Free from Conflict, Argument, Hissy fucking Fits, Screaming/Yelling, Door Slamming or Anti Adult/Authority “I am My Own Person” Self Indulgent Self Righteous Sixteen Year Old Psychodrama. So That Was A Pleasant Surprise.

The Reservation Situation: My Mother being from an Older Generation is still totally Hung Up on the Restaurant Reservation Scenario. The Problem is that Unless it’s some Super Trendy Fine Dining Hipster Restaurant or Perhaps an Old School Steak House Throw Back Dinosaur then You Don’t actually need a Reservation. Unfortunately as Time Evolved and Moved on My Mother Did Not budge an Inch. So One Night We were going out to Eat and Automatically My Mother becomes Fixated as Fuck on the Fact the Place Didn’t Take Reservations, BUT where Kind Enough as to make Note that a Party of 10 was Headed Their Way (I assume this was complete horseshoe to placate the Madness that is My Mother. Also I don’t Blame Them a Bit since My Mother is well let’s say Intense and Leave it at That.

               

As We are Driving to Said Restaurant My Mother goes into Panic Mode when My Cousin Texted “Do we need a reservation?” and that’s all it Took for My Mother to Head for the Races. The Next thing We know My Mother has Engulfed Everyone in the fucking Car into Her Web of Sheer Madness as We all Scrambled to Solve the Situation (aka Attempt Get My Mental Mother to Calm the Hell Down). Finally the whole Reservation Hullaballoo died Down Five Minutes before We got to the Restaurant. Just for the Record the Drive was 42 Minutes Long and it took only Two Minutes before My Mother got Triggered by the Innocent Reservation Question. That Means the Reservation Dilemma essentially lasted the Entire Fucking Ride.

Once We Enter the Resturant even though it’s 8:30 on a Saturday Night was like a Scene from a Shitty B Comedy Movie was Empty as Empty could be. The Only other fucking People there besides Us are the fucking Staff. That’s it just Us and the Boarded looking Staff After all the Old School Reservation busllshit Versus the New School No Reservation Needed the place Didn’t have a Single other Customer. It was so Dead in there I honestly felt fucking Bad for the Poor Waitress who just so Happened to Be the Nicest, Professional, Personable, and Kickass All Around Waitress I have Even Encountered. The way I figured it She was Financially fucked since Working at this Particular Restaurant was making Her a Damn Thing, or She was One of the Working Poor who had Several Restaurant/Food Service Jobs just to be able to Scrape By. All I hope is She finds a Better and More Lucrative Job then the Graveyard of a Restaurant where She is currently Employed.

                  

Litter Patrol: We live so Far Out in the fucking Middle of Nowhere USA that We Don’t have Trash Pick Up so No Garbage Men/Women or Trash Day. Instead We have to Haul Our own Stinky Shitty Trash down to the Town Dump (Which is Actually just a Parking Lt with a Bunch of Dumpsters line up Designated for Different Shit (Example: Plastic, Yard Waste, Metal Etc.). One of the Unfortunate Side Effects of this and People be Lazy as Fuck is there is a Real Litter Problem. Along some Stretches of Road there’s all kinds of Shit like Fast Food Containers from Places that are fucking 30-45 Minutes Away, Old Tires, Beer Cans/Booze Bottles (There so Many I swear Every motherfuckier in Town is Drunk Driving), Broken TV’s, Ratty Ass Furniture like Old Worn Out Love Seats and Shit, and a Shit Ton of Rotting Plastic Bottles.

This lead to My Mother having the Idea to Subtly Suggest that Why the Family is here that We clean up Along Some the Roads that Run Through the Vast Property. This was a Nice and Generally Well Received by All until My Mother started to get fucking pushy as Shit Pushing the Issue and Badgering Everyone. I told Her it was fucking Insane that She went fro Subtle Suggestion to Full on Demanding Compliance Immediately. First Off Not everyone Agreed to Help which was Fine and Expected, but then My Mother got bent because My Cousin wouldn’t Allow the Boys to go Out and Collect Trash on the Side of the Road because it would be Dangerous. She was and is Absolutely right on that one it is fucking Damn Well Dangerous.

                   

The Speed Limit is 55 and as You can imagine People average 65 or Higher and the fact there is Only 3-4 Police Officers allows People to Drive even More like Total Assholes. Then there are Several Blind Curves which are just begging to be the Sight of a Fatal Car Accident so again Imagine People Speeding around Blind Curves would You want Your Kid Standing There Fuck No You Wouldn’t. Lastly the Road is a Main Route for Eighteen Wheeler Logging Trucks which as We all Know take Forever and a fucking Day to Slow to a Gradual Stop.

At Last My Wife, My Cousin’s Husband (looking to escape the Chaotic Confines of the House), My Mother, and I Headed Out to Help Tidy up the fucking Roadside. Now after spending 3-4 Hours Ranting, Raving, and Being a Total Dick about the Whole Thing My Mother Collected One Bag of Trash in 15 minutes and Then Declared She was Tired and Done. The Three of Us remained and Managed to Pack 22 Trash Bags to the fucking Gills with Roadside Garbage. Not too Shabby for damn Near Forced Labor.

The Getting Ready Dilemma: This is the Asinine bullshit that I Hate the Most out of all the Family fucking Nonsense is the Getting Ready Principle. This happens Every fucking time before Every fucking thing We plan to Do when the Family is in Town. As the Deadline Approaches Family Members mingle around Idly just Killing Time fucking with Phones, watching TV, Reading a Book (Yes some of Us still Read fucking Books so Fuck You if thats weird to You), or smoother Mindless Time Wasting Activity. The Point is this getting Ready to Leave Limbo is We aren’t even Interacting with one Another while We wait. It’s like We’re all Hanging around Some Sort of fucking Waiting room for an Appointment that’s Never Coming.

One by One Each Family Member States that They have to Get Ready and then set off to Allegedly do so. I say Allegedly because though Everyone leaves under the Presence of getting Ready to Go NO ONE actually appears to actually be getting ready. This process wastes a good 45 to 60 Minutes as Nothing gets Accomplished while People Drift Room from Room like Human fucking Jellyfish. I detest Downtime I really fucking Hate it because I get Bored Easily, and I fucking Hate Boredom with a Passion so This Aimless Lackadaisical Idiocy infuriates Me to No end. Then just like a fucking Football Game after Squandering a Good Amount of Time in the Final Minutes Everyone jumps into fucking Action. Then all of a Sudden Everyone is Ready and Walking out the fucking Door so what this all Means is They can get Ready in a Timely Manner, but They Delay and Dawdle away a Hour for No fucking Reason Whatsoever. I simply Cannot get My Head Around Such Drivel.

             

Game Night Without The Kids: On One Particular Night the Kids went to Visit some of Their Other Relatives leaving the Adults Alone for the Evening. After the Drinks Started Flowing My Wife Suggested Breaking Out the Game Cards Against Humanity since We were Kid Free, and It’s I think We can All Agree Not a Game for Anyone Under 18 Years of Age (Some May Argue No One Under 21 Years Of Age). For those Who are Not Familiar Cards Against Humanity is an Adult Party Game in Which Players complete Fill-In-The-Blanks Statements using Words or Phrases Typically Deemed Obscene or Offensive in Nature.

Undeniably the Some of the Games Appeal comes from the Fact Younger Generations get a kick out of Hearing Older Generations Curse or Use Sexually Charged Language. The Assumption made by The Younger Generations is that the Older Generation will be Utterly Clueless when it comes to the X-Rated Content. The Ironic thing is the Old Generations DO know about all the Crazy Sex shit it’s They just Don’t know what it’s Being Called Nowadays (Example: Russia used to be The Soviet Union and the USSR in its Past though its Always been the Same Geographical Location).

My Cousin’s Husband remember Playing it one Time Long Ago and was Definitely in Favor of Playing that was Until We actually Started Playing. We were about 8 minutes into the Game when He started to Regret His Initial Endorsement for Playing Cards Against Humanity in the First Place. He was Consumed by Embarrassment and Tried to Avoid dwelling on certain Topics like Describing what the Sex Toy Known as the Fleshlight was to His In laws. My Wife and I were having None of It and Informed Him once the Game started there Wasn’t any Backing Down, Sugar Coating, or Skipping Over a Single Aspect of the Game. Watching My Cousins Husband Squirm Uncomfortably Blushing with Embarrassment was the Highlight of the Game as Far as I’m Concerned.

And So this Brings Us to the End of this Pos on Thanksgiving Tensions. I wanted to End this Post a Little Different from Previous Posts So I Included the Feature Video WOODY SCREAM below to Summarize My Feelings Pertaining to the Hell of the Holidays. Now On to Christmas!

Enjoy.

Thanks For Watching,

 By/Presented By Les Sober 

Similarity Of Father and Son

One Person I rarely talk about is My Deceased Father. While it is True that from My Teens through My Twenties We had a very Tumultuous relationship (and that’s a fucking understatement) We reconciled luckily quite a few Years before He died of Liver Cancer. What the fuck is with Cancer Nowadays in Particular? All I mean is it seems like everyone I hear about Dying Died of some fucking Form of Cancer, and now all I’m left thinking is Jesus the Entire fucking World gives You Cancer or at least has the Potential to. For now though I digress.

There was one aspect of Life that My Father and I always had in Common was a Desire to Enjoy the World Alone. What I mean is My Father always woke up at an Ungodly Hour in the Morning (Typically 4 am), and Loved it. I on the Other Hand was the Polar Opposite in I was a True Night Owl who generally was going to Bed as My Father was getting out of His.

     

We discovered many Years down the Line that the reason that My Father loved the earliest Hours of the Morning, and I Enjoy the Latest Hours of the Night was the EXACT SAME REASON. The Reason was that at Both Times the World was Simply Still Asleep.

It’s actually Peaceful as No One is Awake to Bother You. The Hassles of the Day  haven’t begone Their Daily Grind. You don’t have to contend with all the fucking Noise Society Creates and Generates during the Coarse of the Day/A Day. Your Cell Phone falls Silent No Texts, No Calls, No Emails, nor DMs/IMs Won’t be coming for a While at least. Held at Bay with Time hough only Temporarily.

       

The Cars are Quiet, and So Are the Other Machines. The Construction/Landscaping Equipment such as Industrial Mowers and Gas Powered Weed Whackers along with Power Tools, and Dump Trucks, Cranes, or Bulldozers. Road Crews  Jackhammering away at Old Asphalt Only to replace it with Scolding Hot and Pungent Fresh Asphalt.  18 Wheelers haven’t started Rambling Down Roads and Clogging Up Highways while Spewing Whisps of Foul Black Smoke. At these Times the World has Gone Silent, Dormant, Waiting for Its Return to Action.

At These Times One can Think Clearly in the Zen like Still of a Muted World. For My Father it was in Preparation for the Day at hand While I End My Day unwinding from the Day’s Trials and Tribulations.

       

For once the Day revives Itself it will Crank Out Oceans of Chaos Continuously until It’s next Period of Rest. The Stress and Strain of Social Constrains Cripples Consciouses, Constrains Reason, Lowers Logic, Alienates Intelligence, Ethics Eroded, Morals Mangled, Dreams Suspended, Over Powering People’s Personalities, Itemizing Identities, and Slowly Slaughtering Souls.

For Now I bide My Time until I can Be Myself without Limitations or Laws, Judgements or Persecutions. I wait for the World to Once Again Succumbe to Slumber.

Thanks for Reading,

  By Les Sober

The Amazing Adventures of Dr Lisa Lithium Part 1

In a place not far from where you may live a little girl was born many eons ago. The year 1950. Her place of birth though remains a mystery. She was found in a public restroom outside of an unknown Washington Township. All that was found with her was a piece of paper which read, “This is Lilith. We do not want her. In the toilets she shall remain, the sewage that she is.”

She was found by a family named Smith and a family named Jones, though these were not the names the families had come to America bearing. They were the 1950s version of a gay couple; two gay men and two lesbians who after one drunken evening found each other’s truths and married.

The families decided to rename her Lisa Smith. Lilith was not a name they wanted to keep attached to her, with or without the harrowing note. She was named after a longtime friend who knew their truths but had passed away in a horrific boating accident.

Dead Lisa was a bubbly, warm soul who always gave 110% of everything. If you needed a lift she was there. A shoulder to cry on. A hug. A handjob. Anal. Dead Lisa was a bit too ahead of her time and this is ultimately what lead to her untimely demise.

It was so told that while vacationing in the bayous of Mississippi, Lisa and two friends had the unfortunate experience of a foundering motorboat. On top of this, the propeller had completely stopped working. One friend wished that someone could swim and push the boat towards safety. Lisa heard the call and into the water she went.

She was only in the water for about a minute when she emitted a scream. A gator was attacking her. It took a healthy bite out of her shin, not quite taking everything below that but leaving her dangling like a rogue piece of spaghetti not wanting to play with the other spaghettis on the fork.

Amid her agony suddenly the propeller reactivated. Usually this would be a good thing but she had won the Powerball of bad luck. The gator had dragged her directly to it. This was the actual cause of her death, not the gator, but her being motorboated by a motorboat. Just to top things off as she went under it took off all the recognizable features of her face. Her soft lips. Shredded. Her fat pointy little nost. Her green eyes sunken deeper into her skull. Her forehead shredded to the bone.

But enough of Dead Lisa. This is the tale of the living one. She will not be denied.

(Stay tuned for more….)

By SpaceDog

The Stranded and The Strange

My Wife and I were on our way home Sunday evening, and 2 hours from home (just short of the State Line) started acting up.

We stopped briefly to let the Dog make a shirt in the dirt, and when we got back in the car wouldn’t turn over though it was trying. So we luckily added Road Side Assistance to my Auto Insurance Policy so I didn’t feel real shitty about the car being problematic. We called the Insurance Company only to find out that they can’t tow the car until tomorrow, AND they had a asinine NO DOGS in Truck Rule. What that meant was I could get my car home yet my Wife and I were still stuck looking for a way home.

There is always one person you can rely on and thats your Mother. Unless Your Me. I couldn’t reach my Mother by phone or text, so I decided to continue texting. She finally responded by informing me she couldn’t talk (though she was made well aware that this was an emergency situation) but hey good luck and keep your chin up. Apparently what I have learned along the way this time is my ENTIRE FUCKING FAMILY HAS NO IDEA WHAT THE DEFINITION OF AN EMERGENCY IS. They seem to think an Emergency is the exact same as a Favor. At that point I stopped trying to communicate with her.

Being that we live in a rather Rural area there are NO BUSES, TRAINS, SUB WAYS or TAXI/CAR SERVICES. All I could think of was to try Uber in spite of my opinion of Uber which was and is its a good idea on Paper, BUT with the World’s shittiest Real Life Application. Since like I said we live out in the fucking Woods there was only ONE SINGLE UBER DRIVER in the ENTIRE COUNTY. We scheduled the Uber but when she showed up she immediately informed us she WOULD NOT take us to our actual destination because it was to far for her. I already being an Uber Hater felt even more justified in my disgust of all things Uber.

Since as I said having limited choices of just one We took the Uber Driver up on her offer to give us a lift about an hour down the road which was better than nothing which we had in spades. The ride ended when We ended up AT South of the Boarder the Timelessly Racist Truck Stop meets a Motel, Mall, and Attractions (i.e. Live Reptiles and the Famous Sombrero Tower). The Uber Driver was absolutely awe struck by all the Tacky Tourist Neon Lighting that lit up South of The Boarder like a Poor White Trash version of Vegas.

Again I started an attempt once again to try and get a ride from my Mother who continued to ask if we had though of, and then went on to describe every fucking scenario to see if we actually had. Desperately I tried not to curse Her out for her interpretation of what an Emergency is. All I’m saying is if you fucking fall off a fucking ladder, and call 911 your not asking them for a favor.

My Mother is fixated then on utterly pointless points saying We should get a Hotel room, and I told her that the RIDE emergency would be the SAME the next morning as WE WOULD STILL BE STRANDED. There wouldn’t be any New Options springing up over fucking night or anything.

The Uber Driver started to feel a bit guilty, but I think she actually felt shitty about dropping us off still up the Shit’s Creek without a Paddle. Well whatever her reasoning was she offered to drive us another 46 miles down the road to the next town putting us about 100 miles or so from Our Home Office. We obviously agree and thank her because the cliche was ringing true in “Something is better than nothing”.

The Driver called to Uber Office because it wouldn’t allow her to sign on and accept the ride. She proceeded to launch into a interesting debate with the Uber Office Rep that lasted the better part of an hour. She was one of those cell phone types that likes to talk on her phone while its on speaker so I was privy to BOTH sides of the Argument as it were.

Long story short Our Driver had crossed a State Line which made Her exempt from accepting Uber Calls, and there was absolutely NO WAY around it. This was kind of fucked as our Driver pointed out the original call Uber sent her way was over a state line so why would they NOW make an issue of it (Point being bottom line some Asshole at Uber has no fucking clue about Geography local or otherwise, and is apparently too stupid to utilize a GPS or an Old School Paper Map)

When it was all said and done We settled on the Ride down the Road for $20 cash and called it a night. FUCK UBER (Not the Drivers mind you). As We got in the car I shot my Mother a text letting her know the current state of affairs, and she texted me back to give her a call when we arrived at our next destination. Our next destination was the Red Roofie Inn we had our Uber Driver drop us at, thanked her for her help, and she drove off into the night.

Luckily for us We had called ahead just in case to make sure the Red Roofie Inn took Dogs and had a Vacancy  which they did. Before totally giving up we hit up Uber one more time, and we were in luck there were 3 Uber Drivers  in this County so that was a definite plus. We caught another break when one of said in area Uber came by to discuss if we could broker a ride (Apparently Drivers can say no to Dogs which is their right its I just don’t know why Uber doesn’t tell them up front.)

BOTTOMLINE: Uber is Unreliable because No Ride is Guaranteed due to World Class Shitty Communication between Uber and its Drivers.

This Uber Driver’s usual Van was in the Shop so she had a hell of a Loaner, I’m not a car guy by any means so I don’t remember the name, but this car had ALL these Dope  bells and whistles. This time we got a Driver who was born for Uber like she walked right out of a Uber Ad itself. To say she was an enthusiastic driver would be a horrendous understatement. So off we sped into the night breathing a massive sigh of relief. Then I got a Text.

You see my Mother had requested that I text her when I arrived at our latest destination, but I forgot because at that point what was the point really. The text was asking where we were, and I texted back we had caught an another Uber and were in route to our Home Office. She then announces that she is on her way having taken 3 and a half hours of aggravation to suit up in her armor, mount her white Horse and fucking help us.

I showed the Text to my Wife because at this point I just didn’t give a fuck about anything other than we were finally on our way back to our Home Offices. My Wife texted with my Mother and arranged for us to meet up with her at a designated exit at a Gas Station. We arrived and thanked our awesome Uber Driver and loaded up into my Mother’s Car.

I don’t remember the ride as I tuned my Mother out being that I was still confused, frustrated, and angry that this whole shit show came full circle after HOURS of unnecessary stress. We finally arrived at our Home Offices at 1:37 am instead of our original ETA of 9:00 pm.

Alls Well that Ends Well I suppose.

Thanks for Reading,

Les Sober  

Marijuana & My Mother Do a Complete 180

I remember when California passed The Compassionate Use Act in 1996 (becoming the 1st State to legalize Medical Marijuana) my friends and I were floored. Until now our Pot Smokings greatest aspirations were to save up enough money to make the Pot Head Pilgrimage across the Ocean to the Netherlands. The destination being the Legendary City of Marijuana known as Amsterdam. The Mystical Metropolis where Weed was sold and smoked without legal or social persecution  as No One Gave a Shit (a fucking Utopia as far as my Friends were concerned).

And now there it was the State of California a Pot Smokers Beacon of Hope, but it was a “So Close Yet So Far” Scenario for my Friends and I unfortunately. See while California legalized Medical Marijuana (which illuminated a lot of Foreign travel bullshit making it much easier to access  than Amsterdam) you had to be a Legal Resident with a Doctor’s Prescription Card to reap the benefits of Medical Marijuana Legally.

So California felt as fucking far away as Andsterdajm as far as I was concerned. Thankfully for me over the past 22 years 29 states have Legalized (Medical OR Recreational) Marijuana use by persons over the age of 21.

When I was growing up I started smoking Weed around 15-16 years old and have continued to this very day. My Mom was the fucking antithesis of Ronnie Regan’s bullshit War On Drugs that labeled Marijuana a Gate Way Drug (Which has been proven to be false as Alcohol is the actual 1st intoxicant Teens try so FUCK OFF ALCHOL.

Anyway the point being my Mother was disgusted and appalled by anyone, (let alone her Son) using Marijuana, and spent years battling in vain to get me to quite smoking weed. She used the old school smell check when I would get home starting  in High School in an attempt to detect the smell of Weed. The problem was my Mother had (and still doesn’t really) know what the fuck Weed smells like. This led to countless unfounded accusations because she mistook Incense, Petrulli Oil, Cloves, Cigarillo’s, Certain Cologne, and camp fire smoke just to name a few. In the end she caught me a few times when I was definitely Stoned, but only once did she find Weed. One evening She ran through my jacket pockets, and removed a fat ass Dime Bag yet never mentioned it to me ironically as it were.

. At the same time on the other side of the Cannabis Coin I spent just as many years futilely fighting to change my Mother’s negative view of Marijuana. I constantly fought to inform my Mother Marijuana had multiple Medical Uses, and wasn’t a killer narcotic like Crack. I argued that the Gate Way Drug Theory was bullshit. Was I really meant to believe if I smoked Weed on Wednesday I’d be robbing Old Ladies and shooting Heroin into my fucking neck?!!! Bullshit.

Now we fast forward to 2016 and I’m now in my 30’s and I was a married home owner living in the Great Southern Swamp. I was visiting my Father who was struggling against Liver Cancer because he wan’t people to remember him as he was not as a crippled, bed ridden living Corpse.

My Father loved to cook, hell thats an understatement. He had cooked dinner for me,my Wife, Himself, his 2nd Wife, and oddly my Mother. We were in the middle of eating I was seated at one end of the table and my Father at the other when my Mother (sitting to the right of my Father), and then it happened. My Father at that point was on a powerful as fuck Steroid that was causing mild insomnia (He slept 3-4 hours a night) and inhibiting his appetite. Now not just cooking food, but eating it as well was one of my Father’s true passions, and he quit Chemotherapy because he was too nauseous and fatigued to even think about eating shit.

My Mother leans over and all of a sudden she asked:

“Have you tired Marijuana???”

Now the answer was yes he had tried it once since getting sick. He had decided to try it at least once since he had nothing to loose (not like it kill him). The first hurdle for him (besides living in a state where Marijuana is still Illegal) was he was in his 70’s so who could he ask about getting Weed? He finally asked a close friend who had a Daughter who lived in The Rotten Apple and had a Dealer. Next my Father had obsessed about how much he should smoke ( take a couple hits of a joint? Smoke Half? Smoke it All? I think he was very weary of the affects and it made him rather uneasy.

The Daughter’s Dealer sent a Joint along to my Father along with the message to Please Smoke the Sample Joint and if my Father liked it to let him know. I didn’t have the pleasure of smoking with my Father, but my Younger Brother did. This was in part due to a phone call awhile before hand where I asked him to be there to help assist my  Father’s inaugural Toking to make sure things went smoothly. It did accept no one informed my Father that due to its unique reverse tolerance (Marijuana has to build up in your system before you can experience the High which is why in most all cases a person won’t get Stoned the 1st or 1st few times the smoke.) he might need to keep going, but he figured once was enough for him.

I couldn’t get over what my Mother had said and couldn’t let it go until I found out why. It only took a couple of moths or so and I learned the real story.

Apparently my Mother has a very good friend who suffers from brutal insomnia (She would go DAYS without sleeping), and she to had a Daughter who happened to live in Colorado (The New Mecca for Marijuana in America). So inevitably my Mother’s Friend flew out to visit her Daughter, and while she was there visiting her Daughter suggested trying Marijuana to combat her ongoing contest against insomnia. My Mother’s friend thought why not and purchased some Weed from a local Dispensary (Marijuana is Legal for Medical AND Recreational Adult Use) and tried it. She was blown away as she had never imagined Marijuana would work nearly as well as it did. Since that trip She had been singing the praises of Marijuana to everyone She knew INCLUDING MY MOTHER.

Then in that instant I realized what the fuck was going on. Its damn near identical as to going to Court. You can go to Court and tell the Judge your innocent and he sends you to jail, BUT if you hire a Lawyer and he says the same fucking thing you did/would have all of a sudden the Judge starts listening.

And thats exactly what had happened with my Mother and her views of Marijuana. I could tell her till I was blue in the fucking face (and I did) about the benefits of Marijuana and all the bullshit propaganda             BUT UNTIL HER GOOD FRIEND VOUCHED FOR THE BENEFITS OF MARIJUANA THROUGH HER PERSONAL EXPERIENCE was the convincing factor for my Mother’s drastic and positive attitude change towards Medical Marijuana.

Sometimes its not WHATS BEING SAID BUT WHO’S SAYING IT that matters.

Thanks for Reading,

Les Sober 

A Hard Sell Apology

My Mother has been lurking around her basement as well as attic, and along the way she keeps finding fossils from My childhood during Her adventures.                                       (I’m not so sure if My Brother is being subjected to this or if He dodged this particular bullet?!)

When My Mother finds something She thinks is especially special She is taking a photo and then texting it to me along with Her 2 cents worth.

Her exceptional find for today was indeed odd. It seems to be a letter I typed, and then I signed at the bottom by hand. From the content I believe I had to write this because I was beating up or tormenting my Little Brother Phil.

After reading this little bit of personal history I have decided to post it here Verbatim  Any Names of course have been changed as I believe in getting a person’s permission before using their name in a Post, and in this case I have not.

Ladies and Gentlemen I give you now, THE LETTER!

I agree NOT to Push, Pull, Poke, Hit, Smack, Kick, Bite, Curse, Shoot, Ax, Knife, Mutilate, Kill, Smash, Bash, Mow*, Choke, Assault or in any other way Inflict Bodily Harm on the 2nd party being Phil.

If I break this agreement I promise I will write Phil a letter of apology.

Sincerely Les*

(1* When it comes to MOW I sure I meant Mow him over with a Lawn Mower.)

(2* I love the omission of a comma between Sincerely and Les.)

Thanks for READING,

Les Sober  

Frienenemy

We all have one at one point in our life. The true intention of the start of an attempted friendship is never that to purposely gain an enemy. We as people truly have good intentions the majority of the time.

I know. There are some people that only become your friends because of your position in life, because of your circle that they want to penetrate, your looks, your car, there are endless countless reasons that you could be used for your friendship. Maybe we all do this to some degree or another, even if you substitute these replaceable material things with that of someone’s personality. With that of a person’s inner most soul.

No, I know again. We can’t see the soul on the surface. That is why friendship can be a trial and error process. As we are younger, we are less cautious until we get hurt by another. It is very much akin to baby animals (and baby humans for that matter) who will go up to another and have unending trust in them.

That is why I believe not in original sin. Sin is taught, sin is learned. Behaviors around us are emulated. What is a sin to you, may not be a sin to me. And vice versa. Yes there are sins which an overwhelming majority knows are wrong, like murder, because they feel wrong and you would not want this happening to you. However, there are smaller things on the grand scale of things, that some people do not consider wrongs.

This therein lies where we come about the phenomenon of known as frenenemy.

You see it does not really matter, hide nor hair, of what a person’s upbringing is. It is what you surround yourself with. Your blood family can only be so much a part of this. Most of this is up to you and what you can tolerate.

I have had a few frenemies in my day. There is that old expression, “Keep your friends close, but your enemies even closer.”

But how much can we tolerate? Where is the point where we must draw the line in the sand and say stop? I am beginning to the see where this ends and where this begins on the great precipice known as reality. There is a fine line between everything sane and rational and everything “insane” and irrational.  When the line is visible to all those around you sometimes it is time to call this to an end.

Yet, I wonder to myself. Were my motives selfish for associating with this person in the first place? Was there something I wanted to get out of it? Obviously I was getting something out of it as it filled my need for evil, that was mainly learned by society. There was a hole in my soul that needed a temporary patch job like putting ambisol on a cracked tooth or putting a tiny snoopy band-aid on an arm gushing with blood.

My most famous frenenemy (no he was not really famous, more like imfamous) started as my friend but after many years I only stuck around for reasons to this day I am unaware of. Perhaps I liked the pain that he brought me. Perhaps I liked the element of surprise that he brought to my life because I never knew what city I might be in or how much money he could bring me in the next night. He turned into my boss, but wow now I’m really rambling.

The point is. How long would you stick around for a frenemy? Is there any point to the mayhem?

I say. If no one is bleeding, then no one is hurt. But once you have ripped open my wounds and created new ones on top of that well then I listen to my friend Tori Amos. She says maybe it’s time to say goodbye now.

By The One and Only

SpaceDog 

I Don’t Drink That: Beer Blues

I’m simply sick and tired of friends and family that know me best chronically forgetting what alcohol(s) I drink, they all should damn well know better by now. So I’m at the point where the only goddamn thing I can do (having exhausted all other options) is to actually put it in Black & White.

Wine: No, I don’t drink Wine. Now lets be clear I have drank a fair share of Wine before in my life and I enjoy the drunk, BUT Wine hates the hell out of me. The worst most hellacious hangovers I have ever had the misery of experiencing were all from drinking Wine. I drank only Red Wine, I detest the taste of White Wine, and I sure a hell never drank any god forsaken Pink Wine bullshit.

Shots: No Not Any More. I used to do shots of Vodka or Whiskey but gave them both up as shots seemed to excellerate bouts of drunken insanity or black outs.

Punches/Niche Drinks: Hell to the No. I don’t care about Ancient Alcohols, Medical Meads, Roman Receipts or BC Boozes. Save that shit for the fare fans of Renaissance Fairs.

Cocktails: No with the acceptation of a Captain & Coke once in a blue moon or perhaps a Mojito ever several blue moons. Especially now a days as cocktails are making a massive comeback, I have no need for artisan cocktails. In my opinion Bitters are Bullshit, Garnishes of pickled Jalapeño or Candied Bacon are drink drama, infusions (example wood smoke) are for Idiots and Muddling is for Morons. I don’t want to watch my Bartender  spend 15 minutes making a drink like he’s a member of Circus Du Soleil.

Malt Liqueurs and Fortified Wines: I don’t drink Mad Dog 20/20, Old English, King Cobra, Crazy Horse, Thunderbird, Ripple, Red Rose or Boone’s Farm because I’M NOT IN FUCKING HIGH SCHOOL. That combined with the fact I’m also not WHITE TRASH or HOMELESS.

Hard Ciders/Sodas/Lemonades: No Way, No How. The concepts are cool but they don’t translate from paper to reality. Hard Ciders taste like fermented/spoiled Apple Juice thats been sitting in your grandmothers garage for several years.

Moonshine: Never Again. If you drink Moonshine you won’t be back to your self for at least 48 hours.

Beer: YES, WE HAVE A WINNER. I primarily drink Domestic Beers but I do like a few Imports as well as Craft Beers.

I like a couple Micro Brews, but their accessibility is restricted to geographical location.

I Hate IPA’s and other similar beers like Black And Tans, Bitter Beer is Bitch Beer in my mind.

I primarily drink Lagers and Ales, I hate Wheat Beers because after you drink a couple you feel like you fucking drank a huge loaf of bread.

I also HATE shit like seasonal beers like Pumpkin brews I mean Pumpkin WTF is wrong with you?

So thats I Official Alcohol Intake Mission Statement,

Thanks For Reading,

Les Sober.

The Righteous Return of SpaceDog: She’s Having My Baby?!!

So I heard from her yesterday. I never expected the call in a million years. I’ve kept her a very well kept secret for a very long time.

Well yeah so…. this is what I have been hiding. I have been leading a double life of sorts. Only just this winter though. I mean I have a habit of enjoying living a double life, moreso it’s like isolation, then secret playtime.

So I tried to be different….

I tried it out with a girl. You know, it. I know I could use a nicer term for “it” but it was really my thing and i puked during is a bit too long.

So yeah she was pretty. I had been practicing vocal lessons….. To make my voice deeper to take out the gay or at least take out enough gay to be metrosexual in new york. Apparantly I suceeded.

WHAT THE DILLY YO???????
So those of you who personally know me, you know my phone has been off for periods ranging from anywhere from 2 days to as long as 2 weeks at a time if I get too lazy to find the damn thing. Well I kinda have a errrrrrr other phone that y’all don’t know about.

Anyway so I go one time for a few days and am in New York City. I went up originally to go out with my sister and her husband but alas there is never a normal night out for me. The less I try for sparks to fly, sexually and otherwise, the more my big mouth gets me into trouble.

Sooooo….my sister and I get Chinese. Then I go out on my own to the closest bar. My sister thinks I’m a lush so she doesn’t like when I drink around her. I wanted green liquor. I wanted to be the Hulk and have pretty green eyes but preferrably not gangrene. I prefer yellow fever.

So yeah I picked the wrong fortune cookie. I never had bought a woman a drink in my life before. (sorry ladies…. :(………

So I thought why not buy a drink for this little China woman down the bar. I got her something girly with Malibu in it or an alien secretion (which is green of course 🙂 …. So not only does she take the drink, she comes over and starts talking to me. I must have been straight in my past life or something because my bullshit lines came very naturally to me. I told her, her name was Lisa (but really it was like Ming Wong or Xiana Zu or some shit….like I remember!!!), that she looked lonely and I wanted to take her out for the evening.

She actually agreed. I was like what the hell. I wasn’t expecting this. I could have just ran…. Well then she was like let’s drink something more manly. I’m not as innocent as I look.

So we do shots of jack.
And more jack.
And more.

Then I said lets do some southern comfort.

Everything proceeded to fade to black after that.

I woke up in a hotel. I had no clue where I was. I had to look outside to see okay I’m still in an urban area, which I assumed was New York. I went to go check the mail (best way to find out where you are) and there was no mail. I looked and looked. Oh wait a bible. I’m at a hotel.

So I was in the Bronx. How the fuck I got there I have no idea. I thought to call my sister but no I’ll just find a subway, take a subway, and get the hell home.

So I did.

TODAY IS THE GREATEST DAY I’VE EVER KNOWN?????
So today I did something I normally never do. I actually answered one of those private numbers on my phone. My friends from the land of Glass Dickia have no phone anymore so I was mildly curious. It was her. I didn’t even know she had my number!!! So after going through the whole Hi Do You Know Who This Is? bullshit she drops the bomb.

I’m pregnant.

I drop my bomb.

I’m gay.

She drops the next bomb.

I know it’s yours.

Having no more bombs, I say well maybe it was a thing like you know Mary had. Maybe God came by in the night and stuck you with a turkey baster???

She was not amused.

Anyway the awkward convo went on for 5 minutes. I got off the phone. And after that I got piss drunk. And here I am……

Anyway…..I’m not even sure if I should believe this girl. I don’t know. She just seems like drama. I think I might be drama too. She mentioned if I don’t believe her to go with her on Maury. I felt like saying bitch maybe it’s his. He got that yellow fever way more then me.

So yeah I don’t know if I have been wrongly accused or not. I used to brag about getting out of sticky situations. So ummmm I suppose this is my birthday “gift”. I don’t know if I should just forget about my other phone or what the hell i should do……

I mean ladies….have you ever been wrong before about your baby daddy???? If only I smoked pot like I used to and had seed that would rather float around in the wind. My seed isn’t supposed to plant itself!!!! I’m gay!!!!!

I don’t know anymore. Life used to be so simple. I used to know who I was and what I was and what I wanted. All I know is I do not want this. OMFG!!!! I’m speechless.

By

SpaceDog

The Paradox of Family

Along the course of one’s life they will experience a multitude of different people. Some of the individuals will have a nasty and negative affect while others will have a productive and positive influence. There lies a third personality that will knock you down into a sea of negativity only then to throw you a life preserver. I am not a person who grew up with bullies for me that third personality which influenced me to become the core of who I am through both negativity as well as positivity during my grade school years would be my father Stephen Lawrence. My father was my hero and at the same time my tormenter as I grew up.
The most positive characteristic of my father’s that helped me become the man that I have would be that he was well educated he graduated high school, college, got his masters in English, and went on to teach English at Temple University. Now one must remember a person can be well educated , but that doesn’t mean they are intelligent. My father had an unquenchable thirst for knowledge that lead him to be a prolific reader averaging up to three or four books a week. My father read up on a myriad of subjects, fiction and non fiction alike, to satisfy his intellectual curiosities. My father also became extremely interested in cooking and decided to teach himself using cooking shows as well as reading cooking books. By the end of his life he was truly an accomplished chef. My father also loved to travel. He traveled everywhere from Costa Rica to France but he never wanted to be the generalized cliche American tourist. My father taught himself Spanish, French, and Italian for the purpose of being able to converse with the locals as opposed to just being able to hail a taxi or find a bathroom.
I am proud to say that this thirst for knowledge has greatly influenced my life to this very day so much so that I used to joke that I must have been a cat in all of my previous lives. My father taught me to not only question anything and everything, but to research the facts, pertaining to a subject for myself. I’m definitely a “Must see it to believe it” person. Thanks to my father, I also share his enjoyment of learning. Whatever it may be that sparked his passion for knowledge; I am the same way. The best way I can sum up my father’s and my pursuit of knowledge is thus “No one ended up on their death bed wishing they didn’t know so much.”
Unfortunately the worst personality trait of my father was his terrible and intimidating temper. My father would loudly criticize the other party and then he could/would hold a grudge for up to and including decades. My father was also fond of his own version of the cold shoulder. He started the usual way of just coldly ignoring the person he was angry with, but periodically he would walk past the person he had taken issue with and glare at them with intense contempt and unparalleled disgust. He would maintain this icy stare until he was recognized at which point after a minute or so of unholy silence he simply would walk away not saying a single word. My father could get himself so enraged that even the most honest heartfelt apology would accomplish nothing. The issue was only considered resolved when my father was satisfied with the current state of affairs. Then and only then was the argument over. With my father it was never his fault for anything. It was always someone else complicating his life with nonsense, and this served as a constant and all encompassing excuse for his tremendous temper. My father was born with the proverbial chip on his shoulder and nurtured a “The world vs. Me” attitude.
I’m sad to say that I inherited in many ways my father’s abominable anger. I can be criticizing to the point of cruelty, but unlike my father I do not indulge in the cold shoulder concept. Instead of being cold I come in hot and only get hotter as my anger feeds upon itself growing more enraged with each passing minute. Unlike my father who was above insult and profanity I am most certainly not. When angry I swear like a sailor with Tourettes and have no trouble lowering myself to the low level of hurling insults upon one’s character. I, like my father, will only be satisfied when I feel the issue has reached its end and then in my mind it is actually over. Yet through all of this my father’s ill temper has also helped me become a better person in the end. I’m fully aware that my temper greatly mimics my father’s, but once I turned thirty I realized I don’t want or need to be like my father when anger rears its combative face. I started (and still am) working on my anger issues and how I can /could learn to control them before I totally become unhinged to say the least. Now to give credit where credit is due my father attempted and succeeded greatly to control his own anger, but he didn’t start this so called transformation of character until he turned 61. Part of my realization has been, if he could change at 61 then I have the opportunity to not only change my ways, but to do it with a thirty year advantage.
Another major influence my father had on me was his fear of illness as my father was a consummate hypochondriac. My father never had just a common cold he always had cancer. Thats to say my when my father got sick he would immediately go to the worst case scenario and then act accordingly. My father convinced himself he got sicker more often, for longer periods of time, and had the most severe symptoms out of anyone he knew who may have contracted the cold thus far. My father also made a point of making it abundantly clear that he was suffering each and every time he got sick as if he expected that at any given moment he would end up an invalid on his death bed due to his current horrendous state of heath. I possess the same brand of hypochondria with a few exceptions.
Growing up with my father instilled an intense instinct to remain healthy. If my wife or coworker for example were coming down with a cold/flu I automatically go into decontamination mode. I will start to take excessive amounts of vitamins, spray down communal areas with thick clouds of Lysol disinfectant, obsessively wash my hands, and avoid the infected person as much as humanly possible. When I do contract a cold I too assume the worst and begin to compulsively monitor my symptoms for signs of improvement constantly until my previous good health is restored in full.
I think the most admirable thing about my father was his incredibly strong work ethic. When my father took on a task/job or had a specific goal he wanted to achieve nothing short of death could stop him from accomplishing task/job or completing his goal. My father never procrastinated, delayed or did anything half way, for my father it truly was all or nothing. My father gave a hundred percent while staying intently focused on the work at hand, and if the job in the end wasn’t a hundred percent then the job was a total and complete failure. My father knew failure was unavoidable and he none the less detested it.
My father’s incredible work ethic is more than likely the strongest influence my father had on me growing up. When I have a task/job or goal to accomplish I too have to give it a hundred percent or nothing. I won’t let anything get in my way either and will not stop working from the beginning to the end relentlessly. With that said the influence of my father’s work ethic has a definite up side, but it also for me has a detrimental downside as well. I have unintentionally become the most ferocious perfectionist which causes me to be extremely hard on myself. I am most critical of myself above anyone else to the point which I beat myself up over the littlest things making mountains out of mole hills as the saying goes. I at some point along the road decide that nothing so far is any good and I can convince myself the entire project is flawed thus rendering it a futile waste of time and effort.
Once again we can see life is far from being simply black and white. In fact most of life falls into an enormous grey area. While it is true there will be specifically negative influences such as bullies or bad bosses, also there will be positive ones such as siblings or significant others. Most people you encounter will have a mixed influence upon your life and character. There will be some good along with some bad. It all comes down to the following: no matter who or what the influence may be, remember you can take what you like from the situation and leave all the rest behind.