Come And Join The Meadow Party!
November 23, 2003 Sunday 11:08 PM
KLZI is playing Christmas music. In my younger days (0-22) I would’ve thrown a fit. NO CHRISTMAS UNTIL DECEMBER 1!!!! But from age 23 on I love Christmas too much to care when radio stations play Christmas carols. They overplay the regular Jethro Tull/Celine Dion/Louie Louie crap all year long anyway. Good to hear something else for a change.
I know, I know, it hasn’t been KLZI since the late ‘80s. (Used to call ‘emselves “Classy Radio.” Get it? KLZI--Classy. I used to call ‘em “Clumsy Radio.” I was such a wit at 15. Still the same format they had in ‘84.)
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I got a new LiveJournal friend! Woo-hoo! All part of my master plan to try and get more friends. Instead of just reading the comments, join in the conversation, too, and hope people will realize I’m amusing enough to be friends with. Because I deserve more friends. I deserve to be loved. I deserve affection from others.
Doing it in real life, too. At the “Bum Steer”’s weekly Monday meeting I joined in the conversations, instead of just sitting back and listening or not paying attention at all. My attempt at trying to be outgoing worked. I got laughs where I was suppose to, and the conversation flowed smoothly. Won’t help me any in getting a girlfriend or wife, though. All the chicks at “The Bum Steer” are married, too old, or smoke like a California wildfire.
Leesa said if I had an extra $35 a week I could go with her to her Improv classes. I would love that! Hopefully it would make me much less withdrawn. And I love smart and witty girls. She told me there was a quiet, sweet, cute girl there who she thought would be perfect for me. Unfortunately, at the time I was going out with #2. The cutie hasn’t been in the class for a long time. So, another love connection missed.
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The terror has been easing the last week. Comes and goes for a few hours a day, and it’s a mild terror I can deal with while it bugs me. Hopefully it’s going away and I’ll be my normal happy-go-lucky self again.
Went to M.C. Dee’s Monday night in an above-mild terrified mood. She was taping the Bob Evans movie for Mychele. I couldn’t help but laugh to think if I tried those lines on girls. M.C. thought it would be pretty funny, too. Start seasoning my sentences with “broad” and “dame,” and use lines like, “If you want my number I’m just 7 digits away.”
I don’t quite have the slimy, Hollywood swinger persona to pull it off, though. Be sort of like Radar, or Charlie Brown with a martini in his hand trying to act like Hugh Heffner. Maybe. Actually, Hugh seems a tad classier than Bob Evans.
Anyways, I felt much better at M.C.’s.
My Parents eased my terror tonight. My Gramma’s first husband bought the farm around 40ish. (Turns out he was 57.) And since I seem to be picking up heathificied stuff from my Gramma’s part, I was concerned about my own lifespan. He had certain things that pushed him to die that young. Rheumatic fever as a kid, he smoked, and he worked in a bar with all that 1940s and ‘50s second hand smoke. (Mom sez he had the ol’ time bartender look. Plastered down hair, parted down the middle with curly-Q bangs.) He had a lung removed. He died during a heart operation.
And my dad’s grandfather I heard died around ‘40s. But he worked in foundries, I think it was. Before they had laws about ventilating the place. So that didn’t help his health. And Uncle Steven (bought it at 47) ate junk, and smoked a lot. Uncle Buddy (dead at 55) lived only on the young, fresh teens: Caffeine and nicotine.
I’ve never smoked, and I’m working on the eating thing. Anyway, my grandmothers lived into their late ‘80s, and late ‘90s. (One died three months short of 100.) So, I feel better about not dying soon.
I think it’s just 34 that scares me. I’m less than six months from 35 and I don’t have a wife, or kids. And my inadequate social skills don’t fill me with much hope there. Never made a half-pence off my comic strip. Lots of people love the strip, but the only power they have for my strip is to say how much they like it. Doesn’t get me syndicated.
This isn’t where I hoped to be at 34, and I feel like time is running out. I don’t want a new bride in my 40s, and deal with a surly punk-ass teenager in my early ‘60s.
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Mychele’s coming out this week! And she’ll be here for the Silent Sundays. Maybe she can spot out potential girls for me. She’s good at that if you read my February 2, 2003 entry.
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Perkins is gone! The building is there, but it’s being gutted, and remodeled into a Village Inn. I haven’t eaten from Perkins since late 2001, but me and Wendy always used to get food from there. After finishing up at Target around 11:30 PM or later we’d stop there, I’d get a deeelicious turkey club sandwich and manilla milkshake, and we’d go back to her parents house, or my apartment and we’d eat up. (I have weird psychological issues about eating in public thanks to a 1985 ulcer.)
It’s also where Goodykoontz interviewed me and Mike about The Loon News for The Arizona Republic back in ‘99. But mostly it’s the Wendy association. (Used to bug Wendy when that Association song “Windy” would come on. I’d turn it up and sing with it until she abruptly turned the radio off. But Wendy really did have stormy eyes!) So, for obvious reasons I hate to see Perkins go.
She fed me, sexed me up, bought me Star Wars figures and cool Lego sets. That Wendy was one great dame.
Hmmm, if I’m gonna start using “dame” perhaps I shouldn’t precede it with “great.”
KLZI is playing Christmas music. In my younger days (0-22) I would’ve thrown a fit. NO CHRISTMAS UNTIL DECEMBER 1!!!! But from age 23 on I love Christmas too much to care when radio stations play Christmas carols. They overplay the regular Jethro Tull/Celine Dion/Louie Louie crap all year long anyway. Good to hear something else for a change.
I know, I know, it hasn’t been KLZI since the late ‘80s. (Used to call ‘emselves “Classy Radio.” Get it? KLZI--Classy. I used to call ‘em “Clumsy Radio.” I was such a wit at 15. Still the same format they had in ‘84.)
*********************************
I got a new LiveJournal friend! Woo-hoo! All part of my master plan to try and get more friends. Instead of just reading the comments, join in the conversation, too, and hope people will realize I’m amusing enough to be friends with. Because I deserve more friends. I deserve to be loved. I deserve affection from others.
Doing it in real life, too. At the “Bum Steer”’s weekly Monday meeting I joined in the conversations, instead of just sitting back and listening or not paying attention at all. My attempt at trying to be outgoing worked. I got laughs where I was suppose to, and the conversation flowed smoothly. Won’t help me any in getting a girlfriend or wife, though. All the chicks at “The Bum Steer” are married, too old, or smoke like a California wildfire.
Leesa said if I had an extra $35 a week I could go with her to her Improv classes. I would love that! Hopefully it would make me much less withdrawn. And I love smart and witty girls. She told me there was a quiet, sweet, cute girl there who she thought would be perfect for me. Unfortunately, at the time I was going out with #2. The cutie hasn’t been in the class for a long time. So, another love connection missed.
*********************************
The terror has been easing the last week. Comes and goes for a few hours a day, and it’s a mild terror I can deal with while it bugs me. Hopefully it’s going away and I’ll be my normal happy-go-lucky self again.
Went to M.C. Dee’s Monday night in an above-mild terrified mood. She was taping the Bob Evans movie for Mychele. I couldn’t help but laugh to think if I tried those lines on girls. M.C. thought it would be pretty funny, too. Start seasoning my sentences with “broad” and “dame,” and use lines like, “If you want my number I’m just 7 digits away.”
I don’t quite have the slimy, Hollywood swinger persona to pull it off, though. Be sort of like Radar, or Charlie Brown with a martini in his hand trying to act like Hugh Heffner. Maybe. Actually, Hugh seems a tad classier than Bob Evans.
Anyways, I felt much better at M.C.’s.
My Parents eased my terror tonight. My Gramma’s first husband bought the farm around 40ish. (Turns out he was 57.) And since I seem to be picking up heathificied stuff from my Gramma’s part, I was concerned about my own lifespan. He had certain things that pushed him to die that young. Rheumatic fever as a kid, he smoked, and he worked in a bar with all that 1940s and ‘50s second hand smoke. (Mom sez he had the ol’ time bartender look. Plastered down hair, parted down the middle with curly-Q bangs.) He had a lung removed. He died during a heart operation.
And my dad’s grandfather I heard died around ‘40s. But he worked in foundries, I think it was. Before they had laws about ventilating the place. So that didn’t help his health. And Uncle Steven (bought it at 47) ate junk, and smoked a lot. Uncle Buddy (dead at 55) lived only on the young, fresh teens: Caffeine and nicotine.
I’ve never smoked, and I’m working on the eating thing. Anyway, my grandmothers lived into their late ‘80s, and late ‘90s. (One died three months short of 100.) So, I feel better about not dying soon.
I think it’s just 34 that scares me. I’m less than six months from 35 and I don’t have a wife, or kids. And my inadequate social skills don’t fill me with much hope there. Never made a half-pence off my comic strip. Lots of people love the strip, but the only power they have for my strip is to say how much they like it. Doesn’t get me syndicated.
This isn’t where I hoped to be at 34, and I feel like time is running out. I don’t want a new bride in my 40s, and deal with a surly punk-ass teenager in my early ‘60s.
*********************************
Mychele’s coming out this week! And she’ll be here for the Silent Sundays. Maybe she can spot out potential girls for me. She’s good at that if you read my February 2, 2003 entry.
*********************************
Perkins is gone! The building is there, but it’s being gutted, and remodeled into a Village Inn. I haven’t eaten from Perkins since late 2001, but me and Wendy always used to get food from there. After finishing up at Target around 11:30 PM or later we’d stop there, I’d get a deeelicious turkey club sandwich and manilla milkshake, and we’d go back to her parents house, or my apartment and we’d eat up. (I have weird psychological issues about eating in public thanks to a 1985 ulcer.)
It’s also where Goodykoontz interviewed me and Mike about The Loon News for The Arizona Republic back in ‘99. But mostly it’s the Wendy association. (Used to bug Wendy when that Association song “Windy” would come on. I’d turn it up and sing with it until she abruptly turned the radio off. But Wendy really did have stormy eyes!) So, for obvious reasons I hate to see Perkins go.
She fed me, sexed me up, bought me Star Wars figures and cool Lego sets. That Wendy was one great dame.
Hmmm, if I’m gonna start using “dame” perhaps I shouldn’t precede it with “great.”