Star Date 31082016
A Karenism
Day 9834763 of the headache that is Charlie…no…not Charlie the Unicorn (check out Charlie unicorn Candy Mountain…complete stupidity). Although in this particular case, Charlie is a bit of a double entendre…of the non-shhhhexual kind.
My apologies, ahead of time for the length of this novella. Not to be confused with Avella in PA…although equally as crappy, most likely.
Travel…gotta love it…NOT! People watching at places of travel? Yes, please. If only there were a way to get paid to do so. Well…I guess mall security would qualify…or TSA.
Change of pace – I know what you’re thinking…third entry and he’s (me) all over the place. The joys of Charlie. Sidebar…quick caption for the day comes from Sister Karen. This one’s for the homey down the way…
And…back on task. I have sent invitations to several people, as it pertains to this journal/journey. Each day …or thereabouts, I will do a bio on my relationship with the person of the day …likely and mostly in the timeline in which they have come in to my life. So…
Brother Wheezy: My eldest and wisest of brothers. Of all the men I have known in my life, there is only one wiser than Wheezy (JWWS…Joseph Wesley William Skeelays)…that of Uncle Leonard. Earliest memory of Wes would be sitting next to him in the back of the car…unbuckled…of course…rushing to Good Sam for treatment of Wes’s childhood….albeit made up disease…ass-thu-mu…more commonly known as asthma. Oh the stuff Wes used to be able to get out of. Doing dishes…folding laundry…all highly aerobic activities in our house. Okay…slightly exaggerated. No…I do not recall what he was wearing at that moment. I suspect we both had on footy pajamas. Next earliest memory would be that of living on Hancock (teehee…I’ll leave it at that)…across from the Renfros…and planning running away with Scott…at the ripe ages of 5, 6, and 7. Clothing packed? None. Food to bring? Twinkies. Idea? Bad…stupid…etc. I would have to dig for pic of Wheezy as a chitlin…(movie quote: mean little animals but their skins are worth a fortune). At the time of the “planned” runaway, Wes and I shared a tiny room with bunk beds. Those were the days.
There are lots of fun stories to tell about our growing up, but those are typically embarrassing for one party or another and I would not pretend to think otherwise. When we moved in to the house we grew up in, Wes and I did not do much together. He is two years older…which is a lot currently, as he turns 50 in a couple months. Back then, two years was also a lot. I remember Wes being a bit of a celebrity in the school we went to. Teachers loved Wes. …leftover pity of the asthma card? Hmmmm. Cause for pause. Doubtful. Wes is intelligent and funny. A thinker. A planner…okay…not back in the day so much. Wes was given an 1968 Pontiac Tempest LeMans….all the ladies say, “I know, right?!” All that really matters here is this thing was fast. He was 16…and I was not. Wes did not plan so well as he planned to go out on school nights…claiming some sort of school function…(coughing the bullshit sound here). Home late…up early…on to school. “Kevin, do you wanna drive so I can do my homework?” Did I mention I was not 16 at the time. I peed a little just recalling the excitement of that moment….okay…and because I have lost all bladder control. No? That’s what I’m gonna tell the DB on the plane that thinks they are sitting next to me. Weeeeeee…literal and figurative. How I never got a ticket while driving that bohemoth, I do not know. I got many in my 1983 four-door Chevy Chevette…white with maroon interior….Helllllloooo ladies. 17 minutes flat from on ramp in Los Gatos to off ramp in Santa Cruz for those who care…and those who don’t….who cares…that actually hurts my head. Next mammary. Post-HS for me was meeting for dinner at Chili’s on Bascom…it was the brand new chain back then. Wes was always….always late. Uncle Leonard would join at times. Sunday breakfast …skipping Sunday School…at Effies…other end of Bascom…with Uncle Leonard….sidenote…I will be there on Saturday morning for the first time since Uncle Leo passed back in 1993. …ASSuming it is still there. It was around this time that Wes and I became friends. Since then, Wes has pretty much been married to my sister (no in-law here as she is …weird or not…my sister at this point). I have spent many days and nights with them. Lots of talking and lots of laughing. Just a quick shout out in this…F and U Charlie if you end that.
Enough about Wes. Suffice (not sufficeth to say, as there is no such word, nor do I have a lisp…shout out to Charlie…not a bad thing to have if it comes with surgery….I’m hoping for a spitting lisp…not a side lisp)…to say, that I miss my brother. Colorado is far and he is busy and successful and so on. Mention also that they reared my favorite nephew….who, to this day, has never hugged me. No…Steve, Red, and Karen…not because I am that Uncle.
So the spotlight is just…obviously…my memories and feelings that are caused by said memories. Currently…in public view…I am deeply saddened at the thought of all the potential ‘lasts.’ I am about to embark on a physical journey…thus the Charlie Candy Mountain horseshit. A drive with my brother and nephew from CO to CA. Wheezy wanted to show and tell the lad about the places …albeit desolate and …well…Fresno, for instance. …we have been. The homes we lived in. Memories. How befitting of my sadness. How deeply sad I am in this moment. ….fade to black (for a bit)…not the people.
In today’s experiment involving Charlie v. ATOI: Gay flight attendant…not that there’s anything wrong with that. Upon entering…or planing…since one deplanes…I am close to first on…A5 for those who fly SouthWest. I see a small gathering…not quite a flock of flight attendants, but close. Two are gathered at the emergency aisle, where I am headed. Although I do not like the number 14, I sit there…at D, of course (Dick…not Delta…I am on SouthWest, in case you aren’t paying attention):
Flight Attendant: Are you okay helping in the case of an emergency?
Me: Does a tumor preclude me from sitting here?
No response, so I sit in the aforementioned aisle seat. FAG (flight attendant (who is) gay), sits down next to me and leans in.
FAG: Did you say you have a tumor?
Me: I did. I was just diagnosed with a brain tumour (the new spelling…like shoppe…dumbass olde tyme spelling). …another shout out to Karen for the u in tumor.
FA: (back to FA…even I find FAG offensive)…I think Charlie does too…he just kicked…FA puts hand on my lap. “Bless your heart.” (insert my immediate thought of “done and done”)
Me: …not missing the chance for a self-imposed possible daily-double point….”I wanted to see my daughters and my brand new granddaughter that I have not seen as of yet…could be my last and only time before surgery.”
FA: “Oh my God.” ….wait for it…tears start streaming down his face.
Charlie 1, plus the mental and emotional kick to the balls..circle gets the square (Hollywood Squares reference seems appropriate…Paul Lynne at center square….of course). Extra point to Charlie. ATOI 0.
On to the next (movie reference: You’ve Got Mail. …followed by finger guns…taw, taw, taw.)
Now for a little pre-flight fun. What Charlie thinks of the people whom are planing. First up a guy who looks and acts a bit like this fella: No…it is not Ted Kennedy. Guy
sits in emergency aisle with wife and when asked if he could help in an emergency replies, “I guess so.” My favorite part of this is not his blaze affair (yes…I know this is incorrect BTW; however, I wish I were like Drew Barrymore in Firestarter, and I could just will people aflame). My favorite part is his sudden litany of complaints about how the seat doesn’t recline, had no arm rest on the left, he has to keep the shade open, can’t leave his bag between his legs…not that one….his leather bag…still not that one, even though he is old and looks like the Admiral. His patient, and presumably deaf wife, whom has…up to this point, been making friends with all the wheel chair line cutters…Charlie should totally grant me first access…and a wing pin…and a trip to the cockpit…(“ever been to a Turkish prison?”…”I picked the wrong week to stop sniffing glue.”)
She now sits and is queried as well about her willingness to help in the case of an emergency. Wait for it….looks at FA…then at husband…”Do I really want to help?” Husband replies with, “You won’t have to.” …she tells FA that she will help. Unfingbelievable. I wish Charlie…as he is the size of an eye…could take polaroid pictures of the things I want him to…in the moments I want him to do so. Wait…here comes inadvertently-hitting-everyone-with-my-bag-that-won’t-fit-in-an-overhead lady. And…right on target…hits my head…Yes, Matt…I did lean to my right to avoid the bag, and she still managed to hit me. ….Gets better…gay flight attendant sees this happen. Both hands to his mouth and wide-eyed…for which I should receive another gratuitous point…and mouths…”are you okay?” ….I am not missing this opp….and mouth back…”I’m fine” ….as I hold my head for effect. Hehehe. This is a flight of babies and kids. Kids and babies. I swear I do not know how men get away with shoving their wives out the door with all 4 kids and luggage. As I have the luxury seat, I thought I was safe…Alas, my plan is spoiled within the beating of Charlie’s heart…the loudest of the screaming kids…with the least caring of such noise being made, mother…takes up a row in front and left of me. Thank you God for Bose noise cancelling earphones. This is a full flight, and I picked my poison and am sticking to my guns of not moving. Mom moves to middle…BTW…am I the only one who knows she did not pay for two seats? ….As it turns out…nope. FA’s rat her out and are now selling the aisle seat to anyone who will take it. You’ll never guess…no one wants this otherwise highly desirable seat. …can’t imagine why. Seat taken. There is also the not so notorious crop dusting guy…A-hole to the maximus. Finally….my aisle. I get the old guy feigning a carpal tunnel type wrist band…also a made up disease. His brand new set of Sony noise cancellers. His IPhone in a very large protective case. This man is an idiot. You’ll know why soon enough…Let’s just preempt that Charlie knew before anyone else….He takes window and immediately puts on noise earphones. No wire…sounds good so far, right? Nope…I don’t wanna give away the ending so soon…even though Norm has already stopped reading this. Queue the ITunes from Father Time’s device. Full blast…but not on his BT earphones. Know why? I say nothing….let others bring the bad news to this dumbass…Meanwhile he is getting looks of disdain from all. FA’s finally tell him to turn it down. He pays no attention. FA comes up to give the look at the card in the seat pocket speech, followed by the “please say ‘yes’ in English if you are willing….” Speech. FA looks to him and he doesn’t respond…literally looks at the FA and says, “I don’t know what you said.” FA repeats…man says “yes.” All is well…NO? Oh yeah…the music is still blaring. …at least it’s classical music…albeit very loud. FA says he needs to turn it down. He pulls out his phone and cannot even figure out how to get the face to light up. At this point the middle man is losing his shit. Looks at me and mouths, “Can you believe this guy?” I simply say, “I have a tumour and cannot hear out of this ear..so it’s not so bad.”…look of horror…WIN for Charlie…that’s a freebie. Middle guy asks Father Time if he can help. …which I am fairly certain does qualify as an emergency, so I am happy to see today’s entitled yute (My Cousin Vinnie) respond in such a rapid and andele (made up word by Speedy Gonzalez…how non-pc of Mel Blanc…yet funny when used appropriately…and inappropriately) manner. Turns out that Father Time’s BT headset was not properly charged; therefore, was not connecting to his ITunes. Why did this not bother Father Time, one might inquire? He could still hear the music…as could everyone else.
In flight. Have to potty…or rather Charlie does. I took my normal pre-flight concoction of Excedrine, muscle relaxer (non-habit forming…for those who are concerned about such things), and Sudafed…the stuff you have to ask for at the counter, offering not only your license….a valid one, btw…but a kidney, a healthy Mexican child (future laborer and job stealer of jobs Uh-mer-cans don’t want), and a signature. For which I also ask the pharmacist if this is enough to start my meth lab. Hmmm. Pay and walk away quickly…don’t look at the cameras…too late…wave like Sponge Bob and exit most ricky tick. I digress. Alas, my head….presumably not just Charlie, although Dr. Yu…my very American…ized…neurosurgeon did warn that in all his 34 years on Earth, he has only heard of one case where the head of a patient imploded from their tumour/aneurysm. He was also very prompt to follow up with a heartfelt “but I don’t think you need to worry about that.” As I was saying before I so rudely interrupted myself from myself…er something…My entire head feels like it is going to explode. Which causes a new concern: am I still liable if Charlie strikes someone and say…takes out an eye? Ponder. Head is pounding and I can literally feel my heart beating in my gourd. However, if I recall from earlier, this was about my trip to the lieu. I walk to the back where I immediately find every kid …but the screaming one…As I wait my turn at the popular place in town, I gander back down the aisle. It dawns on me that I actually had to step over a kid who was playing in the aisle. Mayhaps I am going blind. I count 15 kids in two rows. That’s 12 seats for those who take to air. 15 kids…12 seats. Though I was told there would be no math, I surmise this to be an issue at some point prior to landing. Stay tuned.
Migraine medicine on board…second time in two days…but who’s counting? Me…this shit’s expensive. Charlie has gone in to OT behind my eye. Not only does light hurt, currently, but it seems to pulsate. I am given to thoughts of just having left my gorgeous bride (Don’t worry, Don…you’ll see her eventually). I think the worst…well….most of the time. I’ve lived my life at it, actually. I wonder, currently, what if something were to happen on this trip. I wonder about not having seen my granddaughter or my girls. Just so you know…I am trying to think happy thoughts. At this moment, I am given to thoughts of Les and Sonya…a friend of mine whom I constantly coax in to moving to Pittsburgh, from TX. I know…right? Seems like this is a no-brainer…teehee. Les and Sonya have been through it, but that is a story about how I met Les, which is for another day. I think about Sam, who has no clue that anything is “happening” to me, and will be devastated when she hears the news. I think about the few but amazing people I know and am happy are my friends, and therefore, my family. I am thinking about my dad and mom. Which…though not oft talked about or shared on my part, there are a few things here and there that I actually miss…though not enough to warrant a change in mind …at least at present. Which..for those who do not know, would be difficult to address, given my dad’s whereabouts. My point? It is in times such as these, that I ponder a lot of things. I find myself constantly thankful for those invited to read this…Don or Michael will need to wake Norm to let him know this part…he way gave up an hour ago…slow reader. I try and fast-forward to what my legacy would be considered to be, by those who are closest to me. Ima spell it out for you, Francis (movie reference to Deadpool….Shaaks saw it coming and have been waiting). Well…I’ll spell out what I hope it to be. I hope that in whatever time I am allowed to remain, that my wife sees that I see only her. That I truly was…currently am…the best man I could be, and that it was enough for her to see all my flaws…countless…endless. Hell…after the surgery I won’t even have my rugged good looks. I hope all she remembers is that I put her above me…where she belongs. I hope my girls remember that this life is all about the journey. The connections with others. School goes away and jobs change. Seasons. The friends that become family…the connections are truly all that remain. For my friends and family, I hope there are a few kevinisms out there that stick. I hope you all saw me as not just a myth and legend…okay..a man…but as someone who would do anything for you….the kind of friend that not only buries the bodies…but wants to help make them useless skin bags. Yes…I packed my angry eyes (movie reference to Toy Story 2). It’s not really anger inasmuch as it is turning the whole world beige (That’s for Norm).
Favorite quote that I believe reflects not only success but one’s legacy, comes to us today, from Ralph W. Emerson:
“What is success?
To laugh often and much; to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children; to earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends; to appreciate the beauty; to find the best in others; to leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch Or a redeemed social condition; to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded!”
Fast forward. I am well overdue in ending this day. I have deplaned, seen my brother’s huge brain (at work), not in the literal ‘he’s got a Charlie also, too’…more watching him in his business mode. He is both feared and respected by a couple of these folks. Funny how the younger folk come in puffing their chests but walk out with their heads held ever so slightly lower. We were sitting at lunch or on the car ride to the office…I do not recall the exact context, but it came up that…as many suspect, I am an a**hole. Wes remarked, “it’s funny how people assume fat people are happier…easier to approach…then they find out I’m not really.” Another Skeelays with attitude.
My final thought for the day: Don’t forget to rotate people on your bus of death. You want them to see that they can die slowly or quickly dependent solely on their behavior and seat pre-selection. If you do not have a bus of death…get one. Create your own. If I had the inclination, money for a patent…or cared, I would contact the good folks who made Colorforms…this is the ideal application for such an adult toy…office use only, as not enough time is spent on things that have nothing to do with one’s employ. Speaking of…if Charlie goes full on postal (C word…no ladies…not…wait…and Steve…not that C word) I will take up smoking just to get the 10 minute breaks every day, all day.
Final, final thought for the day. A few of you may notice the particular sets of Colorforms, right above this writing. That is some funny sh** right there, I don’t care who you are…that’s funny.
Imminently final, final thought. Thank you for enduring Charlie’s ranting today. I needed something to keep my mind more off of him and more on (hehe…moron) the people I miss. It should be shorter tomorrow…traveling and all.
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