<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7329975346112885220</id><updated>2012-02-15T22:19:51.173-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Never Mind the Bollocks</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>JIMSIGHT</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06342495591130676434</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SMh1bgmyVQI/AAAAAAAAABU/udEIFjiiKXE/S220/Photo+249.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>36</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7329975346112885220.post-78221752333271296</id><published>2009-05-26T16:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-26T21:50:15.214-07:00</updated><title type='text'>things you've done..</title><content type='html'>You are supposed to copy and paste this list into your own blog and bold the items that you have done.. this is being passed around but I think its a facinating conversation starter.. I have added a couple both that I have and have not done.. please do the same on yours&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1. Started your own blog &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2. Slept under the stars &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3. Played in a band &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;4. Visited Hawaii&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Watched a meteor shower&lt;br /&gt;6. Given more than you can afford to charity&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;7. Been to Disneyland&lt;/strong&gt;/world&lt;br /&gt;8. Climbed a mountain&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;9. Held a praying mantis&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;10. Sang a solo&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. Bungee jumped&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;12. Visited Paris&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;13. Watched a lightning storm at sea&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. Taught yourself an art from scratch&lt;br /&gt;15. Adopted a child&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;16. Had food poisoning&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty (not sure this ones allowed.. been to the top)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;18. Grown your own vegetables&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;20. Slept on an overnight train&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;21. Had a pillow fight&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;22. Hitch hiked&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;23. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;24. Built a snow fort&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;25. Held a lamb&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;26. Gone skinny dipping&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;27. Run a Marathon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;28. Ridden in a gondola in Venice&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;29. Seen a total eclipse&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;30. Watched a sunrise or sunset&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;31. Hit a home run &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;32. Been on a cruise&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;33. Seen Niagara Falls in person&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;34. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;35. Seen an Amish community&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;36. Taught yourself a new language (not sure what this means)&lt;br /&gt;37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied ( have? cause if had you would still have)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;39. Gone rock climbing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;40. Seen Michelangelo’s David&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;41. Sung karaoke&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;43. Bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant&lt;br /&gt;44. Visited Africa&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;45. Walked on a beach by moonlight&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;46. Been transported in an ambulance&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;47. Had your portrait painted&lt;br /&gt;48. Gone deep sea fishing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;49. Seen the Sistine Chapel in person&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;51. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;52. Kissed in the rain&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;53. Played in the mud &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;54. Gone to a drive-in theater&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;55. Been in a movie&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;56. Visited the Great Wall of China&lt;br /&gt;57. Started a business&lt;br /&gt;58. Taken a martial arts class&lt;br /&gt;59. Visited Russia&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;60. Served at a soup kitchen&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;61. Sold Girl Scout Cookies&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;62. Gone whale watching&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;63. Gotten flowers for no reason (have given, never gotten)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;64. Donated blood, platelets or plasma&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;65. Gone sky diving&lt;br /&gt;66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;67. Bounced a check&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;68. Flown in a helicopter&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;69. Saved a favorite childhood toy&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;71. Eaten Caviar&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;72. Pieced a quilt&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;73. Stood in Times Square&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;74. Toured the Everglades&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;75. Been fired from a job&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;76. Seen the Changing of the Guards in London&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;77. Broken a bone &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;78. Been on a speeding motorcycle&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;80. Published a book (working on it)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;81. Visited the Vatican&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;82. Bought a brand new car&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;83. Walked in Jerusalem&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;84. Had your picture in the newspaper&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;85. Read the entire Bible&lt;br /&gt;86. Visited the White House&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;88. Had chickenpox&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;89. Saved someone’s life&lt;br /&gt;90. Sat on a jury&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;91. Met someone famous&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;92. Joined a book club&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;93. Lost a loved one&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;94. Had a baby ( my wife had the baby)&lt;br /&gt;95. Seen the Alamo in person&lt;br /&gt;96. Swam in the Great Salt Lake&lt;br /&gt;97. Been involved in a law suit&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;98. Owned a cell phone&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;99. Crossed the Equator&lt;br /&gt;100. Seen the Southern Cross&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;101. Been Whitewater rafting&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;102. Held someones hand right while they died.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;103. Seen a ghost&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;104. Had your heart broken&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;105. Seen the Rolling Stones&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK I DID IT... if you do it, put a comment here so I can go read your&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7329975346112885220-78221752333271296?l=jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/feeds/78221752333271296/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7329975346112885220&amp;postID=78221752333271296' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/78221752333271296'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/78221752333271296'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/2009/05/things-youve-done.html' title='things you&apos;ve done..'/><author><name>JIMSIGHT</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06342495591130676434</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SMh1bgmyVQI/AAAAAAAAABU/udEIFjiiKXE/S220/Photo+249.jpg'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7329975346112885220.post-7665046928349498576</id><published>2009-04-29T23:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-01T13:30:09.637-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Non importo dove lei va, li lei e.                                                         No Matter Where you go... there you are.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SflJQefB6kI/AAAAAAAAAFg/Rjmy3yvnmMQ/s1600-h/JP+GLOW.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330372181379639874" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 114px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 105px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SflJQefB6kI/AAAAAAAAAFg/Rjmy3yvnmMQ/s200/JP+GLOW.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Like my Dickie Bird always said, no matter where you go, there you are. Well to a certain degree he was right, but this has been a fabulous experience and I am very sorry that it drawing to a close. Yesterday was 3 year anniversary of my wife's passing and it was just a little bit easier than I imagined.. I think being here may have been just what I needed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SflEKK1IyRI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/Zx8HF-C2Nbo/s1600-h/tuscany.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330366575466301714" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 134px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SflEKK1IyRI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/Zx8HF-C2Nbo/s200/tuscany.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been staying at this house for the past few months, my friends Sam and Audra have owned it for nearly ten years. They offered to let Joanne and I use it on many occasions but &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;unfortunately&lt;/span&gt; we never got around to taking them up on it before she passed. They &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;decided&lt;/span&gt; to sell recently and called me to let me know that I had one last chance to use it and I decide YES.. great choice... Its located in a small town of about 10,000 named Roselle not far from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Grossetto&lt;/span&gt; in Tuscany. I have been spending my time mingling with the locals, I have made some good friends here. My Italian has become very good for an American or so my new friends tell me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Its only about 15K to the Sea and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;prox&lt;/span&gt; 60K to Rome and I have had Sam and Audra's car so I have been all over the place, even made a trip to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Sicily&lt;/span&gt; last week with some of my new friends.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Going to try and put some posts together when I get back.... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SftP4yNSpbI/AAAAAAAAAFw/p25iX6h_qOg/s1600-h/ROSE+TURKEY+DAY.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330942420891903410" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 120px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 113px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SftP4yNSpbI/AAAAAAAAAFw/p25iX6h_qOg/s200/ROSE+TURKEY+DAY.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think I have some good adventures to share.. including a few dates with one of the locals, Rosanna &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Dicenso&lt;/span&gt;.... I taught her some &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;English&lt;/span&gt; and she improved my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Italian&lt;/span&gt;, lots of fun... she happened to be a widow so we had that in common, she is only 40 years old, which is a little young for me, but hey whats a boy to do.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;was telling Smarty pants about getting my backpack boosted outside a small &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;trattoria&lt;/span&gt;... really blows.. I ran inside for like 30 seconds to tell the waiter something and came back to an empty table.. the big problem was it had my camera in it.. I posted a sign offering a reward for the memory card but to date no luck... should have been saving pics to my computer but never got around to it...now I wish it would have been stolen on the first day here instead of with a week left to go in the trip... .. oh well live and learn.. . I have some photos on my phone but not that many and they are kind of fuzzy see above.. but hey my own damn fault... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7329975346112885220-7665046928349498576?l=jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/feeds/7665046928349498576/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7329975346112885220&amp;postID=7665046928349498576' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/7665046928349498576'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/7665046928349498576'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/2009/04/no-matter-where-you-go-there-you-are.html' title='Non importo dove lei va, li lei e.                                                         No Matter Where you go... there you are.'/><author><name>JIMSIGHT</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06342495591130676434</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SMh1bgmyVQI/AAAAAAAAABU/udEIFjiiKXE/S220/Photo+249.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SflJQefB6kI/AAAAAAAAAFg/Rjmy3yvnmMQ/s72-c/JP+GLOW.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7329975346112885220.post-5104775701426430800</id><published>2009-01-07T20:31:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-07T20:42:43.955-08:00</updated><title type='text'>WE GOTTA GET OUT OF THIS PLACE</title><content type='html'>So I have been doing the Holiday Shuffle since Christmas Eve. I swore things would be different this year, no remorse, none of that remanicing crapola....and I almost made it too....then Christmas Eve came....and down down down down...tried to fight it off by spending tons of money on food and my kids presents but all to no avail...sheesh.......oh well that is how the cookie crumbles and maybe next year will be better.....even though I am doing well and enjoy dating and women in general I guess bottom line is I still miss my wife a lot.  Happy Birthday Sweetheart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am going to Pittsburgh tomorrow, finalize the purchase of that cheap ass house. It is very nice and has some nice land. It will be a great place to write. Will also be going to the Steeler Game on Sunday...HERE WE GO STEELERS HERE WE GO...maybe this trip will fully pull my head out of my ass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The book is going well and is taking up tons of time and is another reason I have not been online and keeping up....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That silly Charmaine told me to just post some recipies or something so here is something...thanks Charmaine the phone call did me more good than you know...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK Jimbo here we go LEFT RIGHT LEFT RIGHT....the back is finally feeling 100% too so up early and running tomorrow...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh I did go on a date and promise to write about it....the only thing I can compare it to on an even keel is the Hindenburgh.....kaboom...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7329975346112885220-5104775701426430800?l=jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/feeds/5104775701426430800/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7329975346112885220&amp;postID=5104775701426430800' title='17 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/5104775701426430800'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/5104775701426430800'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/2009/01/we-gotta-get-out-of-this-place.html' title='WE GOTTA GET OUT OF THIS PLACE'/><author><name>JIMSIGHT</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06342495591130676434</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SMh1bgmyVQI/AAAAAAAAABU/udEIFjiiKXE/S220/Photo+249.jpg'/></author><thr:total>17</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7329975346112885220.post-2767772773606829504</id><published>2008-12-13T14:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-13T20:42:47.018-08:00</updated><title type='text'>VEGAS 101</title><content type='html'>Since I decided not to force the whole dating issue anymore I apparently have become more attractive than ever, oh never mind those were hookers that were hitting on me in Vegas...no worries I wasn't looking for a date anyway.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The trip was tons of fun, by tons I mean that from the amount of elaborate meals I consumed that is probably the amount of weight gained in a four day trip.   The food in Vegas just keeps getting better and better and I can't resist going overboard when I am there.  This experience coupled with the time down from the back thing has not been kind to the mid section....oh well that is what today's and tomorrow's are for.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Flew up on Jet Blue out of Long Beach...it's a quick flight so I didn't bother bringing my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;ipod&lt;/span&gt; or any headphones.  BIG MISTAKE,  I ended up sitting next to a young dad with his 20 month old daughter that easily could be the next singer for Guns and Roses....this little cutie had a set of pipes on her that draws blood from ones ears.  I grabbed the flight attendant by the wrist after a few minutes of this and asked her no pleaded with her, any more earphones for sale, oh please please?  She looked at me knowingly and just shook her head no,  I wanted to cry too.  Then I thought wouldn't it be great if I did, not tears but if I just started wailing like the cute little toddler was, and then it started one of those chain reaction crying things, sort of like the dog barking chain in 101 Dalmatians.  By the time I was done laughing in my head and imagining the scenario we were on our decent, I was making faces at the toddler and she was trying to be brave, but you could tell her ears where going nuts, nose running, the whole nine yards.  Oh I remember flying with my daughter but since my wife and I were adults we were prepared.  Yup we drugged our kid before we got on the plane, not sure if it was to be nice, save embarrassment or out of courtesy but a big ole swig of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;dimetapp&lt;/span&gt; was always at hand, followed by a nice little nappy.  I passed on my wisdom to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;mr&lt;/span&gt;. young dad, he looked at me like I was crazy.  We finally landed and she smiled a big smile and then sneezed.  I am sure the next passenger in that seat will love it when he drops his tray and gets his slimy surprise.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I raced off the plane, only my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;carryon&lt;/span&gt; of course, I am a pro at packing and I figure if I am missing something or need something, just buy it there.  The cab line was only 3 deep and I was in and off to the hotel.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Stayed at the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Luxor&lt;/span&gt; and the room was SUITE, or should I say the suite was sweet.  On the 22&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;nd&lt;/span&gt; floor of the East Tower (top floor) with floor to ceiling windows, 800&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;sqft&lt;/span&gt; with a full bar, huge bathroom...why do they have regular &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;tvs&lt;/span&gt; was my first thought.  Don't you think they would put plasma's in these rooms.  I guess they already have those &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;dumass&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;armories&lt;/span&gt; so until they refurnish they are keeping those cheap ass &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Tvs&lt;/span&gt;. At any rate I really wish I could have had a party in this room, it had a dance floor by the bar, how suite (i mean sweet) is that.  Great time to be alone...NOT....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My phone rang and it was my buddy, his plane was on the ground and he was heading straight over to my hotel for a drink, then we could walk to his Hotel so he could check in.  He was staying at the Tropicana, big gambler he is and gets free rooms there on a regular basis.  I walked down to the lobby to get some bets in on the Monday Night game, stopped and threw a Ben Franklin in a video machine on the way and HELL YES on the third hand hit 5 of a kind for 400 bucks....NICE...off and running.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My buddy showed up, we will call him Jeff (why? because that is his name).  We put our losing bets in on the Monday Night Football game and then headed to the bar.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After some cocktails we headed to the Tropicana so he could check in, when we got there I noticed an amazing amount of guys with cowboy hats and girls with bowed legs....all they were playing in the Casino was Country Music...then I saw the signs...WELCOME RODEO RIDERS....&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;OMG&lt;/span&gt;, its the National Rodeo Finals...the whole town will be overrun with these folks.  Like any other group in the world some will be cool, some will just be and some will be assholes...but arsehole cowboys really know how to asshole it up...oh well....my fears where not justified unless you count the drunken cowboy peeing where there wasn't a urinal at NY NY or the one cowgirl that started yelling &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;WTF&lt;/span&gt; are you looking at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;MF&lt;/span&gt; never seen a cowgirl before. (i didn't have my glasses on and was trying to read the sign behind her) I didn't have the heart to tell her she wasn't that interesting so I just kept walking.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Jeff went to check in and I dropped some more cash into a video machine...oh crap its on quarters oh well, I can pass the time....and WHAM 4 tress and an ace...hey ding ding ding ding, another 400 bucks....YES loving this so far...hope the tables are this obliging.  I moved to the Dollar Machines and by the time my buddy got back I had given half the money back, understanding that you are not supposed to win in Vegas is paramount...you have to be happy when you win or lose....no biggie either way.  We hit the Black Jack table and let me tell you I didn't see a face card for like 20 hands in a row....9 and a 4, 8 and a 6, over and over and over again.  By the time we had to leave for our dinner reservations I had dumped about 4bills...bad run oh well.  We headed off to the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Bellagio&lt;/span&gt;, the cab driver told me that business was down 30% and gave me his card.  I told him we would call him for a ride any chance we could, he became our personal cab for the rest of the trip....it was fun having a special cab driver.  The dude reminded me of Babe Hill, if you don't know Babe was Jim &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;Morrisons&lt;/span&gt; Body Guard and personal Rodie.  He also was my best boy years later at Universal Studios....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway this is getting really long.....we ate at Picasso in the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;Bellagio&lt;/span&gt;, we ate at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;Emeril's&lt;/span&gt; Fish House at the MGM Grand, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;Gallaghers&lt;/span&gt; at NY NY, and The Cat House at the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;Luxor&lt;/span&gt;....all of them were really good the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;Foie&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;Gras&lt;/span&gt; at Picasso was with roasted peaches and son of a bitch was it delicious...the best thing at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;Emerils&lt;/span&gt; was the Blue Crab &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;de&lt;/span&gt;-constructed Crab Cakes with toast points, The Cat House had a trio of Creme &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;Brulee&lt;/span&gt; that was world class and well &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;Gallaghers&lt;/span&gt; is second only to Peter Luger in my book when it comes to a big ole hunk of meat...yummy..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anyway the only other thing of real interest was one of our traditions.  We play Roulette at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;O'Sheas&lt;/span&gt; every time we go...it is a Shit Hole and a half.  We never go past the first table which coincidentally is next to the bar.  If I have to go to the bathroom I will cash out and go next door.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The best thing about this place other than it is the only place on the STRIP with IRISH CAR BOMBS is that you can get away with murder as long as you are tipping.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;For some reason I found myself using the term Bitch over and over, not in my regular vocabulary but was getting hammered and turning into Rick James or something....LOL...come on Bitch spin me an Eight, oh Fuck Yeah another God Damn Eight...&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;omg&lt;/span&gt; Jeff joined in and we were rolling,  lets face it Roulette is a real game of chance but there are minor strategies.  I hit the 8 twice, 17 twice, 23 twice and 29 once in a matter of like an hour and a half, in between we were betting mountains of dollar chips on Black or even....and of course yelling "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"&gt;that's&lt;/span&gt; right Bitch" "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29"&gt;gimme&lt;/span&gt; another color" the tipping was way over the top and the dealers and pit boss tolerated our antics knowing our luck would turn and they could have the last laugh...but the phone rang and it was Nick the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30"&gt;cabbie&lt;/span&gt;...he was outside and wanted to know if we were ready...oh hell yes we were.  I cashed out with 4k and Jeff with about the same...NICE...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The rest of the gambling was all about lose lose lose but hey like I said you sure can't just win win win or there wouldn't be a Vegas now would there....but I paid my room bill, put away my flight money, paid for all of our meals, which were not cheap, all the cab rides, tips for everyone and I mean everyone...I think our tab at Picasso was the winner at 7 hundred bucks...but 340 of that was wine. (they have 60m $s worth of original Picasso's in the place for viewing)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The morning I was leaving I checked my bags with the bellman and hit the video poker machines again to kill time.....I was down to 10 bucks and hit 4 &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31"&gt;deuces&lt;/span&gt; for a grand...ahahahahahaha....maybe I should have stuck to Roulette and Video Poker the whole trip but who cares...I left Vegas with the whole trip paid for and an extra 22 hundred bucks in my pocket...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I already put the cash in my Vegas kitty for March.......&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh I almost forgot we went and saw Chris Angel's show....&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32"&gt;ummmm&lt;/span&gt; how do I put this, oh yeah we walked out...&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33"&gt;LOL&lt;/span&gt;...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7329975346112885220-2767772773606829504?l=jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/feeds/2767772773606829504/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7329975346112885220&amp;postID=2767772773606829504' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/2767772773606829504'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/2767772773606829504'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/2008/12/vegas-101.html' title='VEGAS 101'/><author><name>JIMSIGHT</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06342495591130676434</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SMh1bgmyVQI/AAAAAAAAABU/udEIFjiiKXE/S220/Photo+249.jpg'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7329975346112885220.post-1193803061984567446</id><published>2008-12-06T12:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-06T19:25:57.457-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't  Say Oops Like You Dropped a Nickel</title><content type='html'>Not sure why this didn't post when everyone was discussing wedding's but that's not really important now is it.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My Cousin Jim got married in one of the big old Cathedral's in Pittsburgh a few years back.  One of those huge places where every noise echo's for days.  Well he has four brothers, all of whom were ushers in the wedding and his best friend Jim (yes tons of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;jims&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; in attendance) was the best man. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Add those 6 to the 4 bridesmaids and maid of honor and the bride and needless to say it was a fairly large wedding party.  Probably in the neighborhood of 150 to 200 guests, everything was very beautiful.  The two tiny flower girls tossing flowers as they led the endless procession up the aisle were so adorable that the ladies in attendance started crying right off the bat.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The pipe organ blared the opening bars of "Here comes the Bride"  we all turned our heads in unison, Grace looked &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;positively&lt;/span&gt; stunning.  She is a very tall Irish lass and made a very lovely bride.  Her dress was gorgeous, I think the train  of her gown must have been at least 20 feet in length.  It all made for a very memorable moment.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She finally arrived at the front of the church after what seemed like hours,  her father handed her off to my cousin, shaking Jim's hand and walking to his pew.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The entire Cathedral went totally silent, the Priest cleared his throat and then it happened, one of those moments to remember through eternity.  The unmistakable sound of one of the hugest farts emanating from the grooms side of the wedding party.  The reverberation rolled down the aisle and touched the back wall of the Cathedral, then headed back towards the alter where it seemingly (from the look on her face) hit the Bride between the eyes.  I didn't think it was possible that the church could become any quieter than it was but believe me it did.  After a moment (century) of very uncomfortable silence my cousin Jim (the groom) taking a visual &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;ques&lt;/span&gt; from his bride to be turned and gave his younger brother Joe a look that could easily have made a mountain disappear.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; Poor &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Joesph&lt;/span&gt; turning as red as a beet, just put his hand to his mouth and let out a very sheepish "OOPS"....Jim shot back almost instantly with &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"DON'T SAY OOPS LIKE YOU JUST DROPPED A NICKEL" .  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh my freaking god in heaven, after a few seconds of complete and deafening silence EVERYONE in the church started laughing I mean everyone....when the Priest finally got a little composure back he once again (and quite loudly) cleared his throat and started the service.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As you can well imagine; to this day, if you didn't just drop a nickel please don't try saying "oops" anywhere around any of my family.  You will get laughed out of the building.  Unless of course it is my cousins wife Grace, she is more apt to punch you in the nose.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7329975346112885220-1193803061984567446?l=jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/feeds/1193803061984567446/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7329975346112885220&amp;postID=1193803061984567446' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/1193803061984567446'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/1193803061984567446'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/2008/12/dont-like-you-dropped-nickel.html' title='Don&apos;t  Say Oops Like You Dropped a Nickel'/><author><name>JIMSIGHT</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06342495591130676434</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SMh1bgmyVQI/AAAAAAAAABU/udEIFjiiKXE/S220/Photo+249.jpg'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7329975346112885220.post-3108935736385940304</id><published>2008-12-05T15:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-31T02:53:07.204-08:00</updated><title type='text'>THE FUCK YEAH GIRL</title><content type='html'>Mini three date series.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Date One- Memphis (Costa Mesa)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I actually met the Fuck Yeah Girl at the Halloween party in the previous blog.  So once I got out of Fancy Nancy mode I called Hanna and asked her if she thought Marilyn would be interested.  She made the call and I got an e-mail from her Marilyn the next day.  Not only did she say she would love to go out, but she actually had a place in mind.  Wow that was totally different than what I had become accustomed to.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Friday rolled in and I was off to pick her up,  she is 9 years younger than me so that was quite a switch for me, I had never dated anyone in my life that was more than a couple years younger and mostly stuck with woman my own age.   Hey its not like she is a teenager or anything, she is 43,  it was then that I decided I would never date under 40. Yes that will be my cutoff...wherein the hell that came from I have no idea but I do know for certain that I never want to be that old guy (even though I think I still look kinda of young for my age) with the chippie.  YUK! It's just not appealing to me in the least, call me crazy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Marilyn gave me a brief tour of her little bungalow, it was really eclectic and I like that.  Off we went to the place she picked out "Memphis".  The place is a real dumpy looking building, both inside and out, the patio area (where we sat) wasn't level so your chair kinda of rocks when you move.  We got our menu's and ordered a bottle of wine, the menu was surprisingly appetizing, and better yet when the food came it was outstanding.  I highly recommend the joint if your in the So. Cal area.  (Charmaine, it's almost kitty corner from Mesa, next to the Lab). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Conversation came very easy, in fact she was a chatterbox on every subject be it politics, music, movies whatever.  After dinner we went to Havana a cuban place and sat out by the fire pit on the patio and had a couple more glasses of wine.  That's when she started talking endlessly about television shows that she followed.  tons of shows I had never heard of, or may have heard of but never seen.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7329975346112885220-3108935736385940304?l=jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/feeds/3108935736385940304/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7329975346112885220&amp;postID=3108935736385940304' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/3108935736385940304'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/3108935736385940304'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/2008/12/fuck-yeah-girl.html' title='THE FUCK YEAH GIRL'/><author><name>JIMSIGHT</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06342495591130676434</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SMh1bgmyVQI/AAAAAAAAABU/udEIFjiiKXE/S220/Photo+249.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7329975346112885220.post-2791085670288344702</id><published>2008-12-05T14:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-05T22:40:07.390-08:00</updated><title type='text'>MY PIMP</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/STms5qa2IrI/AAAAAAAAAD4/diil426FIZ4/s1600-h/Hanna+%26+Jim.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/STms5qa2IrI/AAAAAAAAAD4/diil426FIZ4/s200/Hanna+%26+Jim.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276438545080656562" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Okay so this is the gal that used to work for me, Hanna...She finally moved out of her parents house at the tender age of 26.  She bought a small condo over on the border of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Tustin&lt;/span&gt; and Irvine so I went over and took her a boat load of matching appliances, you know food processor, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;cappuccino&lt;/span&gt; machine, mixer...that stuff is really cheap at Target...who knew.&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She was really, really nice to me when Joanne died and was directly responsible for dragging my ass out of the house for the first time 6mos afterwards.l  It was her birthday/&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Halloween&lt;/span&gt; party at her parents house.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I went as the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Croc&lt;/span&gt; Hunter dude, it was the day after he died and my costume included the stinger in the chest with a trail of blood.  Surprisingly to me it was not all that well received by some of the folks, who doesn't get the whole &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Halloween&lt;/span&gt; is supposed to be like that thing?  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hanna was also the one responsible for me getting back out and dating again.  She is the one that set me up with Fancy Nancy and also Crazy Mare (aka "Fuck Yeah Girl")  She started calling herself my pimp after the second setup.  Then she set me up with "00Nancy" but since that ended with the whole Jim gets what is left of his heart broken into tinier pieces she got out of the pimp business.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anywho she just sent me this picture from the night I took her housewarming gifts over so I had to share it....maybe I should spin up a Crazy Mare episode for you....oh yeah that is my mission for my next post.  Actually ended up being friends with her and we have dinner once in a while, but &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;whoohoo&lt;/span&gt; get some vino into her and look out.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Not sure what it is but since Joanne passed I have way more female friends than male??? I guess it has something to do with the fact that at least half of them listen to what I am saying...&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;LOL&lt;/span&gt;...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7329975346112885220-2791085670288344702?l=jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/feeds/2791085670288344702/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7329975346112885220&amp;postID=2791085670288344702' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/2791085670288344702'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/2791085670288344702'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/2008/12/my-pimp.html' title='MY PIMP'/><author><name>JIMSIGHT</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06342495591130676434</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SMh1bgmyVQI/AAAAAAAAABU/udEIFjiiKXE/S220/Photo+249.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/STms5qa2IrI/AAAAAAAAAD4/diil426FIZ4/s72-c/Hanna+%26+Jim.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7329975346112885220.post-5210384443460955503</id><published>2008-12-03T18:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-31T02:52:14.003-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Wailing Wall</title><content type='html'>There's a grand old maid&lt;div&gt;Across the sea&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So the story was recalled to me&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And from dawn til dark, you hear her call&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Down in front of the wailing wall&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And she cries all day so sad and alone&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;til someone comes along and leads her home&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nobody listens and nobody seems to care&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But everyday you'll find them there&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Kneeling down&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;For sadness sake&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Crying just as though their hearts would break&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And from dawn til dark you hear them call&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Down in front of the wailing wall&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And they cry all day, so sad and alone&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Til someone comes to lead them home&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You know I don't listen, and you know I don't really care&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But every day you will find me there&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am kneeling down &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;just for sadness sake&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Crying just as though my heart would break&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And from dawn til dark you'll hear me call&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Down in front of the wailing wall.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;HI CHARMAINE&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7329975346112885220-5210384443460955503?l=jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/feeds/5210384443460955503/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7329975346112885220&amp;postID=5210384443460955503' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/5210384443460955503'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/5210384443460955503'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/2008/12/wailing-wall.html' title='The Wailing Wall'/><author><name>JIMSIGHT</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06342495591130676434</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SMh1bgmyVQI/AAAAAAAAABU/udEIFjiiKXE/S220/Photo+249.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7329975346112885220.post-4136307315461464066</id><published>2008-12-03T15:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-03T16:58:05.096-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Cable Dog</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/STcZIYrwTvI/AAAAAAAAADo/jUqlIqkjFE0/s1600-h/Photo+433.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/STcZIYrwTvI/AAAAAAAAADo/jUqlIqkjFE0/s200/Photo+433.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275713120343445234" /&gt;I think I know the problem.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It seemed a bit strange that a small block of channels disappeared from my television.  Having never really heard of this happening and since I don't watch that much television to begin with figured who cares, its not A&amp;amp;E the History Channel, The Food Network, Bravo, any of the Sports Channels or the Networks so its all good.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Slightly over a week went by and a poof, a few more stations were gone.  Oh god am I going to have to call Time Warner was all I could think.  I don't have a week to stay on hold and another week to wait for a service man.  I was in no hurry as the stations were not really on my radar, Tara did start to complain about missing some of her animal stations.  I started tracing cable around the inside of the house, checking everything I could think of off the top of my head, the back of the box, checking for loose connections you know the things that inept unqualified guys do when they are to lazy, busy or just plain to irritated to call someone to fix the problem.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Finally the problem started to get bad, in other words the block of channels that included Bravo, A&amp;amp;E and the Food Network was gone.  What the hell was going on, I surrendered and made the call to Time Warner&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;No shit, I called on my cell from Anaheim Hills...I was still on hold when I walked into my house in Huntington Beach some 45 minutes later, I had this pulsing in my neck.  I swear to god my carotid artery was about the size of your average garden hose.  Finally someone picked up.  I explained my dilemma and of course was told to reboot the system.  I tried to explain that this was already done but being the first line of Time Warner defense they insisted and I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;acquiesced&lt;/span&gt;.  When nothing happened, they tried to reboot from there end.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then the rep. wanted to know what stations where missing in detail, I turned the television on and started going through the stations, well it looks as though most everything above the networks and HOLY SHIT everything just went blank....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I turned towards the windows throwing my hands into the air preparing to unload on the person on the other end of the line and that is when I saw it, or should I say her.....Santi our 65 pound American Pitt Bull Terrier, she looked like a Marlin that had just hit the bait. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was staring through the open hurricane shutters in my family room looking out on to my side yard and there she was, standing on her hind legs, almost moonwalking with the cable in her mouth like 30lb test line, she was some 20 feet or more from the corner of the house where the cable runs...I stood motionless looking out the window, all I could say was "I think I know the problem".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Time Warner showed up the next day, the service man thought it was funny as hell.  They didn't charge me a dime but he did make me promise not to let the dog watch TV for a week...?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7329975346112885220-4136307315461464066?l=jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/feeds/4136307315461464066/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7329975346112885220&amp;postID=4136307315461464066' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/4136307315461464066'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/4136307315461464066'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/2008/12/cable-dog.html' title='The Cable Dog'/><author><name>JIMSIGHT</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06342495591130676434</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SMh1bgmyVQI/AAAAAAAAABU/udEIFjiiKXE/S220/Photo+249.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/STcZIYrwTvI/AAAAAAAAADo/jUqlIqkjFE0/s72-c/Photo+433.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7329975346112885220.post-8282008885633764756</id><published>2008-12-03T14:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-03T17:10:02.327-08:00</updated><title type='text'>YOU ASKED FOR IT MJ</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/STctij2am2I/AAAAAAAAADw/B_SPIBndse8/s1600-h/Photo+453.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/STctij2am2I/AAAAAAAAADw/B_SPIBndse8/s200/Photo+453.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275735560250104674" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok so Michelle in NYC told me she wanted to see this hat, and she wanted to see it now.  Since I am not opposed in the least to making an ass out of my self on occasion here it is.  Now I can go back to writing a post...LOL..&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The hat is from Peru, a friend of mine's wife is from Peru and brought it back as a gift for me...they have some name but I don't remember what it is.  It is soooooooo freaking soft its unbelievable.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7329975346112885220-8282008885633764756?l=jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/feeds/8282008885633764756/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7329975346112885220&amp;postID=8282008885633764756' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/8282008885633764756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/8282008885633764756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/2008/12/you-asked-for-it-mj.html' title='YOU ASKED FOR IT MJ'/><author><name>JIMSIGHT</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06342495591130676434</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SMh1bgmyVQI/AAAAAAAAABU/udEIFjiiKXE/S220/Photo+249.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/STctij2am2I/AAAAAAAAADw/B_SPIBndse8/s72-c/Photo+453.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7329975346112885220.post-1706202077972011856</id><published>2008-12-02T19:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-02T20:04:13.267-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Yay freaking Yay i made it home</title><content type='html'>So I made it home, YAY!  I am beat, got in yesterday 7ish PM.  I will admit it,  Jim must be getting old because I am fried from the trips of the past few weeks. Finally ending up at my sister's house in Santa Rosa for Thanksgiving. The relentless back spasms for three days didn't help much but I am starting to feel better now.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I really wish I would have taken a camera with me. I sent Charmaine tons of pics of my family via pic message on my phone so maybe she can describe them.  Hey maybe I can download pic's from my phone so i can share them with ya'll.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am very thankful that my housekeeper came yesterday before I got home so that i didn't have to flip out at whatever the house looked like from whatever the adventures of Tara where while I was gone.  She was looking a little uptight about coming home before i reminded her that this was Martha's Monday to clean. She started smiling really huge after that.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My brother is in the capable hands of my oldest sister Carol, she took him to her house in Durham (just south of Chico) after the Thanksgiving festivities at my sister Cindy's house.  So I am getting a rest from being caregiver, and very grateful.  He is actually doing quite well again too which is a bonus.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am also doubting very much that I am really related to any of the people at Thanksgiving dinner with the exception of my daughter, my niece Corin and my nephew Lance.  I will recap the events soon when I get motivation to do this.  I was thinking of writing a paragraph on everyone that was there and then we could all play guess the relative...I am sure I would fail miserably.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One thing I discovered while in Cleveland was that I still have a stalker (a really cute one) there.  I have not seen her in years, she is my wife's best friend Stephanie's youngest sister. I drove over to visit Steph and Joe one day from Pittsburgh and she popped in.  She is 14 years younger than me...she used to follow me around like a puppy dog at weddings, funerals, whatever, but that was a long long time ago...she is now 38 and divorced and while i was visiting Steph...guess what she followed me around like a puppy dog.  It was like a stalker cocktail, one part flattering, two parts creepy and gave me the shakes...LOL...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well back to the laundry, will try and get my thoughts together and write about the trip a little more coherently tomorrow.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7329975346112885220-1706202077972011856?l=jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/feeds/1706202077972011856/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7329975346112885220&amp;postID=1706202077972011856' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/1706202077972011856'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/1706202077972011856'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/2008/12/yay-freaking-yay-i-made-it-home.html' title='Yay freaking Yay i made it home'/><author><name>JIMSIGHT</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06342495591130676434</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SMh1bgmyVQI/AAAAAAAAABU/udEIFjiiKXE/S220/Photo+249.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7329975346112885220.post-5697314987126806428</id><published>2008-11-24T22:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-24T22:51:07.600-08:00</updated><title type='text'>READY FOR TAKE OFF SIR</title><content type='html'>So in typical Murphy's Law fashion I slipped on the ice on the porch today.  My back is slowly but surely getting tighter and tighter.  I am on like 2000 of ibuprofen and hoping that my back feels better before the whole in my stomach burns the rest of the way through.  At 52 years old this is nothing all that new to me, I have done the steroid packs and the muscle relaxer thing due to everything from slipped disc to major muscle pulls.  This feels more like a hip pointer mixed with a muscle pull, but hey I have a flight to catch tomorrow and am 2526 miles away from my Dr.s office so hopefully we will just tough this one out.  I can always go to the ER in Santa Rosa if it persists, sounds like a lovely way to spend Thanksgiving.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;While I and my brother are all packed and ready for our big trip tomorrow it was anything but easy with me screaming in pain with each movement, all the while trying to figure out what he wanted me to pack for him, all of his answers to my questions coming out in his new voice which sounds like a cross between Carl in Slingblade ummhummm and Darth Vadar haaaaaaaaaaa.  For those of you who have not been playing along, Don (my brother) is a recent stroke victim and the main reason I am in Pittsburgh.  I know I am on my way to hell for seeing the humor in everything he does but I was probably well on my way before this.  He is my big brother and I love him dearly but he was a freak before the stroke so LOL.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am imagining us heading through Pittsburgh International Airport tomorrow looking a bit like the Mummy and Frankenstein taking a Holiday.  Me with my entire back rigid and stiff playing the role of Frank, Don with his left side partially paralyzed dragging along at my side we should make quite the spectacle.  Actually we have been sitting here laughing our senior citizen asses off about it for the better part of the evening.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I just had to throw this out there.....wish us luck....not taking a laptop with me but of course my niece and nephew both have mac books that their wonderful Uncle Jim bought them for their birthdays last year so I should be updating at some point, hopefully that is.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Gooble gooble and all of that...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Remember this is the Holiday that it is okay to talk about big breasts at the dinner table.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7329975346112885220-5697314987126806428?l=jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/feeds/5697314987126806428/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7329975346112885220&amp;postID=5697314987126806428' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/5697314987126806428'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/5697314987126806428'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/2008/11/ready-for-take-off-sir.html' title='READY FOR TAKE OFF SIR'/><author><name>JIMSIGHT</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06342495591130676434</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SMh1bgmyVQI/AAAAAAAAABU/udEIFjiiKXE/S220/Photo+249.jpg'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7329975346112885220.post-1179097740331230147</id><published>2008-11-23T20:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-23T20:44:55.373-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hi THERE</title><content type='html'>Over the past 30 years or so, discounting Holiday visits and of course the seemingly never ending Frying Pans and Fire trips over the past decade, I really have not spent all that much time back home in Pittsburgh.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The past few weeks here have really brought back lots of memories for me, both good and not so good.   I have been spending the days running my brother around to his endless Dr. and therapy appointments, visiting with relatives both young and old,  going to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Steeler&lt;/span&gt; games,  taking walks , watching it snow and WRITING...the writing is going very well by the way.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One of the things that I never really noticed when I was young and I lived here, and that truly annoyed me beyond words on those short trips has now become a very welcome part of my day.  When you dive down the street, everyone waves, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;whether&lt;/span&gt; you know them or not, everywhere you go the people say Hi There, how are doing? More importantly they actually expect an answer, then they listen to the answer and respond with something about there day.  Its amazing, everything takes a little longer but it all seems so HUMAN...I mean I have these kinds of relationships with a few people in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;HB&lt;/span&gt;, but its not exactly the same.  These people seem to remember what you told them and then they ask about that, I think I may be decompressing or something, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;At any rate, we are packing up and heading for Santa Rosa this Tuesday...off to my sister Cindy's for Thanksgiving.  My older sister Carol will be driving over from Durham so it will be the first time all four of us have been together since our mother passed away.  Tara will fly up on Wednesday and one of my nieces and one nephew will be there too.  I am sure it will be a little different than last year at Fancy Nancy's.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am really really looking forward to seeing the sisters,  I have not seen them since I started this whole dating thing and now that I am taking a break from same maybe they can help me put it all in some sort of perspective.  I have this man habit of tuning out when a phone conversation gets to long winded but am quite capable of listening for hours in person.  Should be late night talks, board games and tons of food, plus the girls like to wait on me, god I miss that part.  Almost forgot about that entirely, that will be &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;sooooo&lt;/span&gt; nice.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In case I don't get anything posted before then I really want to wish my blog friends a very HAPPY THANKSGIVING....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7329975346112885220-1179097740331230147?l=jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/feeds/1179097740331230147/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7329975346112885220&amp;postID=1179097740331230147' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/1179097740331230147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/1179097740331230147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/2008/11/hi-there.html' title='Hi THERE'/><author><name>JIMSIGHT</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06342495591130676434</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SMh1bgmyVQI/AAAAAAAAABU/udEIFjiiKXE/S220/Photo+249.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7329975346112885220.post-4710852878577695799</id><published>2008-11-10T22:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-11T19:36:02.141-08:00</updated><title type='text'>THE WOMAN IN MY LIFE</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SRo6-x89_PI/AAAAAAAAADQ/TzN1xaAuR0c/s1600-h/l_d62ec9d29d9e92cb1fc1ae040dc7865e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SRo6-x89_PI/AAAAAAAAADQ/TzN1xaAuR0c/s200/l_d62ec9d29d9e92cb1fc1ae040dc7865e.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267587564398574834" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SRkoxJfrUEI/AAAAAAAAADI/rVzLRSjLyAA/s1600-h/l_d62ec9d29d9e92cb1fc1ae040dc7865e.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"&gt;Just had to share this photo...&lt;/a&gt;my crazy kid, TARA LYN.  Oh to be Nineteen...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;College sophomore, Biology Major, she plays piano, guitar and flute, she knits, she will be transferring to either Berkley or Davis next fall.  Someday she will learn how to make her bed or change a toilet paper roll but I am not holding my breath.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She went with me and voted for President for the first time this year, it was such an uplifting experience.  She was active and did phone banks for Prop's 2 and 8.  I won't talk politics for her but from the description of her above and below you can probably formulate a guess on which side of the votes she was on.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;At the tender age of 11 she decided she that she was a vegetarian and has not changed her position since, very stubborn young lady, not sure where that comes from.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You would love her room, it is decorated with my album covers from the late 60s and early 70s. Her ring tone is Hendrix but you are more likely to hear Joni Mitchell blasting from her room. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am a very lucky dad...love her tons...just had to share this pic, her sense of fun makes me smile and every once in a while she lets me think if just for a moment that I am still her hero.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7329975346112885220-4710852878577695799?l=jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/feeds/4710852878577695799/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7329975346112885220&amp;postID=4710852878577695799' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/4710852878577695799'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/4710852878577695799'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/2008/11/woman-in-my-life.html' title='THE WOMAN IN MY LIFE'/><author><name>JIMSIGHT</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06342495591130676434</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SMh1bgmyVQI/AAAAAAAAABU/udEIFjiiKXE/S220/Photo+249.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SRo6-x89_PI/AAAAAAAAADQ/TzN1xaAuR0c/s72-c/l_d62ec9d29d9e92cb1fc1ae040dc7865e.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7329975346112885220.post-3973245992242262792</id><published>2008-11-08T22:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-09T21:57:17.797-08:00</updated><title type='text'>JUST A THOUGHT ON LOVE</title><content type='html'>Have you ever been in love?  Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable.  It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up.  You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you.  They didn't ask for it.   They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore.  Love takes hostages,  it gets inside you.  It eats you up and spits you out, then leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like "I am so sorry things happened like this" turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart.  It hurts.  Not just in the imagination.  Not just in the mind.  It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain.  I hate love.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7329975346112885220-3973245992242262792?l=jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/feeds/3973245992242262792/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7329975346112885220&amp;postID=3973245992242262792' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/3973245992242262792'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/3973245992242262792'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/2008/11/on-love.html' title='JUST A THOUGHT ON LOVE'/><author><name>JIMSIGHT</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06342495591130676434</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SMh1bgmyVQI/AAAAAAAAABU/udEIFjiiKXE/S220/Photo+249.jpg'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7329975346112885220.post-4582826527442150838</id><published>2008-11-05T19:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-11T22:15:07.047-08:00</updated><title type='text'>DATE-SCAPADE</title><content type='html'>The list of woman I went on dates with between Nancy's.  I added the number of dates and the ages of the women so you can decide easier or see If I have a pattern going.  I am certain the Peterson sisters will find this information useful in their continued analysis of Pool Boy.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The Coaches Ex (3 dates) 50years old&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Fuck Yeah Girl (4 dates) 43years old&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There REALLY is something about Mary (2 dates) 51years old&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The list of woman after the second Nancy. I am trying to write about the second Nancy but will have to get back to you on that...it is still surprisingly difficult not to jump from the first word right to the relationship end.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Third Person Teacher (2 dates) 52years old&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The Ojai Artist (1 date) 44years old&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Charming (1 date) 21years old _wink&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sawdust Girl (1 date) 40years old.   &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;BREAK TIME....NO DATES ON THE HORIZON.....I figure since I really should only have only gone on one date with Third Person Teacher too that I for whatever reason can't make it passed the first date right now.  I have either become insufferable or entirely to picky, either way its seem a sign to take a break.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;None of the above date stories are completed, I have put together outlines for most of them so this is all request day at Never Mind the Bullocks....or we can scrap the whole dating thing and write about my stupid fears and insecurities some more, LOL....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am spending the better part of my days (I semi-retired recently by the way) writing in earnest, I am enjoying it tremendously, feeling on fire in fact, but still feel the need to keep up the blog thing, hmmm...go figure.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7329975346112885220-4582826527442150838?l=jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/feeds/4582826527442150838/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7329975346112885220&amp;postID=4582826527442150838' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/4582826527442150838'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/4582826527442150838'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/2008/11/date-scapade.html' title='DATE-SCAPADE'/><author><name>JIMSIGHT</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06342495591130676434</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SMh1bgmyVQI/AAAAAAAAABU/udEIFjiiKXE/S220/Photo+249.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7329975346112885220.post-6104873058945350938</id><published>2008-11-02T01:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-02T03:00:16.593-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas Eve</title><content type='html'>Last year was not what you would call the traditional Christmas Eve in any sense of the word.  I guess nothing will ever really be traditional in my life again,  yet one more time here it was December 24th the Late Great Mrs. Priests birthday.  It was the second year that I would do this without her.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Our family tradition had always been that Joanne would spend the day pampering herself, manicure/pedicure and a massage, then she would come home and take a bubble bath.  I would rush around like a maniac getting things ready for the combination birthday/Christmas Eve bash.  It was a huge undertaking,  first down to the fish place under PCH for the oysters, muscles, fish and lobster.  Next to Lucci's Deli for the meats and cheeses,  Smith brothers for the produce and finally to Black Forest Bakery for the Cake.  I would usually make it home by 11 and bust my ass until 3:30 to get everything ready.  It was a madhouse but I loved every minute of it.  A quick shower and then off to Church for the Five O'Clock mass.   It is supposed to be for kids, we just kept going even after Tara got older because it fit so neatly into our schedule.  We would be home by Six, it gave me plenty of time to get the food out for the guests that would start arriving by Seven.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The first year Tara and I did everything exactly as we would have had Joanne been there with us.  I made the traditional meal, Tara and I went to the kids mass and I even invited most of Joanne's friend over, even the ones that I don't like, everything was just as she would have wanted it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I knew in my heart I couldn't do it again last year.  Even though Fancy Nancy and I did not work out everything had changed.  After all I had dated another woman, I had stopped talking to most of our old "Couple" friends.  A lot of things had changed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;On the flip side of that I still had an entire walk in closet that was still full of my wife's clothes, purses, and shoes and yet I was trying to act like I was ready to move on.  I had donated most of her things to women's shelters already but there was something about that closet, I just couldn't seem to get around to that closet.  Not to mention the small fact that her ashes were still on the headboard of my bed.  Just in case your wondering, no Nancy had never been in my bedroom. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If anyone remembers, last December 24th, it was one of those Southern California days that you think to yourself "the traffic isn't so bad" "the crowds don't bother me that much".  It was spectacular out.  I knew it was time, Joanne wanted her ashes spread at Thousand Steps in Laguna...she loved that beach more than any place in the world, we had been to so many beautiful places in the world during our life together but Thousand Steps was the place she always love best.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I opened the car door for Mrs. Priest for the last time, or so I thought.  When I was two blocks from the house I realized that she would have insisted in going in the convertible.  I turned around, went back to the house and switched cars.  I stopped at Hi-Time on the way and picked up two splits of Moet, put the top down and headed for the coast. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When I got to South Laguna there was just a very slight marine layer, it was perfect.  I packed u up and we walked down those steps together for the very last time.  There was not a another soul on the beach, and the Ocean was calm.  I walked to the water's edge, near the tide pools that separates the two coves.  We always took that spot when it was open, for the better part of 25 years we shared that spot.  I opened the splits and grabbed the bag from the urn.  Very carefully I walked out on the rocks, I toasted my wife and sang happy birthday one last time,  I drank one of the splits I poured the other into the water.  I reached into the velvet bag  pulled out the plastic that held my wife's ashes,  removed the clip and with a single motion flung the ashes into the air, the wind spread her gently across the water, I stood motionless for a while, not knowing what to expect, but nothing happened. There would be no lightning, no parting of the seas, nothing amazing happened at all,  nothing with the exception that I never felt alone,  so very alone.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Walking back to the towel and the urn and my emptiness, my heart sank, then lifted, then sank again much like the tide.  I collected my things and made the long walk back thru the thick sand to the steps.  It was a very slow walk, I turned to look back more times than I care to remember.  My foot prints were the only ones in the sand no matter how many times I looked. Up the steps one then the next I went, and finally was back at the car.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I grabbed the tape and put her favorite song in and cranked it all the way up, playing it over and over again all the while singing at the top of my lungs, I drove up PCH (Alive and Kicking by Simple Minds).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I actually stopped at Fashion Island on the way home.  Joanne would have liked that a lot, I needed to go to the Lucky Brand store, Teuscher's Chocolates and Victoria Secret to finish getting the last of Tara's Christmas gifts.  Life does go on after all, doesn't it...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There's still a few things I haven't sorted out,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sometimes they make my brain get sore. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But I am not going to worry about it, well not to much anyway.  Lots has changed again as another year has almost passed.  We will see, won't we.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7329975346112885220-6104873058945350938?l=jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/feeds/6104873058945350938/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7329975346112885220&amp;postID=6104873058945350938' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/6104873058945350938'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/6104873058945350938'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/2008/11/christmas-eve.html' title='Christmas Eve'/><author><name>JIMSIGHT</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06342495591130676434</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SMh1bgmyVQI/AAAAAAAAABU/udEIFjiiKXE/S220/Photo+249.jpg'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7329975346112885220.post-201041497438956085</id><published>2008-10-30T17:54:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-01-07T20:39:34.773-08:00</updated><title type='text'>FUNERAL FOR A POOL BOY? FRYING PANS AND FIRES</title><content type='html'>Well, I did it.... &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well I did kind of sort of sideways, I tried to resign my position with Pool Corp., our CEO sent me an e-mail right after hearing the news.  He thinks it would be so much better if I were to just take a leave of absence, he told me to take up to six month  They are sending me the paperwork in the mail, he told me to call him in a few months and let him know how I feel about it then.  Who knew that 16 years of service to building the largest wholesale distribution company of pool equipment and supplies in the world would warrant a little understanding and loyalty.  I was truly touched and will consider a return in a while but for now it is the furthest thing from my mind.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now what to do?  Do you know that other than when Joanne passed away I have not been off for more than two weeks straight in over twenty years.  All the while I have been threatening to attempt writing in earnest again (it used to be my passion), well it looks as thought there is no time like the present.  Wish me luck, I am still having a bit of separation anxiety from corporate &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;America&lt;/span&gt; but that is to be expected, on the flip side I am starting to think that I can faintly hear my heart beating again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Here is a brief history of the decade and part of the reason I am was so very ready to just take a break and concentrate a little bit on regaining myself.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The FRYING PANS and FIRES have been the theme of my life non-stop for nearly a decade now.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This coming Valentines Day will mark the 9&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; anniversary of my fathers passing.  Have you ever been afforded the chance to hold someones hand in yours and be looking them &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;squarely&lt;/span&gt; in their eyes when they are leaving us? I have been blessed to have had this most amazing experience happen twice, my father was the first.  The one thing that struck me most was how his eyes,  his eyes that had been foggy and glazed over from a week of heavy sedation and being attached to a ventilator,  ever so slowly became crystal clear and blue again, it was the most amazing thing,  very suddenly he was Joe again, he was no longer just a sick old man weakened by to long a stay in a hospital bed,  once again he was soaring.   Turning I glanced out the window, snow was falling heavily on the barren oaks in the distance, in a moment the branches were thick with it's white outline.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;March 9&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; it will be 6 years since my mother left us, she went peacefully in her sleep, peacefully but alone.  I was lucky enough to have spent a week with her only two months prior.  I flew back to Pittsburgh for a reunion (school).  Normally I always just rent a car and get a hotel, I like my privacy and have been doing that since my dad died and my mother moved out of the old house.  This time for some reason that I did not know then, when she asked me if I would stay at her Senior Citizen Apartment building with her I said yes. This meant sleeping on the couch, being at her beckon call, and of course being paraded around the Senior building.  Turned out it was one of the best decisions that I made in my life. Outside of the dinner and cocktail night portion of the reunion, which were fun but really.  Catching up with people that you never really cared all that much about is fun but it was very easy to pass on the other functions.  It allowed me to spend the entire week with my mother,  we passed our time going to the movies, going out to lunch, dinner and just walking along the Allegheney River.  We spent quite a bit of time  just sitting on her porch chatting with her friends.  My mother was always so very proud of her baby boy Jim, she used to love showing me off to her friends, telling them all about Joanne and Tara and of our magical lives we were living in California.  At times I could hear the longing in her voice as she described how far away we were,  I was never really sure as to exactly why she never would move west to be with us. Yes  I know she had brothers, friends and my brother still all living in Pittsburgh, but I really think it was so she could be near the cemetery so she could visit her husband when she wanted to.  I sat with the both of them this past Tuesday at Mount Carmel, we had a nice chat, granted I did most of the talking, but I tried to listen too.  IT SNOWED while I was listening, its October and it snowed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Four years ago this April I received a federal express package at my office, I knew exactly what it was but was still excited opening it, packages are fun to get.  It was my season tickets (well partial season tickets) for the Angels, I split them up with my best friend Steve every year.  I almost looked forward to bartering, arguing and every other type of begging and or conversation it took to split the tickets up.  It had become a ritual.  Immediately one hand went to the receiver the other was already dialing, the phone rang only once.  Steve answered, I was very excited and so I just blurted out "I Got Something" "I Got the Angel Tickets" Steve responded almost as &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;quickly&lt;/span&gt; "I Got Something too" "I Got Cancer".   I felt like throwing up, I started to shake.  My wife had been diagnosed right after my father died and now my best friend was telling me he had cancer too,  I told him I was coming over and hung up the phone.  Steve told me he had been diagnosed with a type of Melanoma that usually only attacks teens. Well that figures, Renal Cell the type of cancer that my wife had usually only attacks men. Sadly Steve's cancer was very very aggressive, he was gone that same August a scant five months from our phone call, we still shared our tickets, mostly we just went together. Towards the end we would just sit in silence and watch the game.  He didn't make it to the end of the season.  I have been described as a fairly social person but I have never been one for a lot of close friends.  I miss having a best friend so very much, not sure I have enough years left in me to cultivate a relationship like that again. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;April 30&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; of next year will mark the 3rd anniversary that Joanne, also known as the Late Great Mrs. Priest left me.  She was to be my second experience with holding someone at the time of there death.  She had been home under hospice care for two weeks, when they gave me the choice it was not a consideration to put her in a nursing home,  I would just sit and hold her hand for the better part of the day knowing the moment was coming.   This time it was a wry smile that struck me the most.  Even through the completely demoralizing and devastating feelings I experienced at that moment I saw the smile come. Before the tears flowed, before the sighs and the feeling that my chest was collapsing came, I saw it.  Mrs. Priest had a Cheshire smile that could melt a glacier, light up an entire ballroom, make the grumpiest of the old &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;mens &lt;/span&gt;hearts go &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;pitter&lt;/span&gt; pat,  it was a smile that always said someone loves you.  I miss that smile so very much.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;All the small things between then and now that somehow seem so hard for me to do, well they really are.  The whole starting to date thing,  the actually sleeping with another woman, all the while trying to make new friends its all just so very hard. No parents to talk to anymore is very difficult, I never imagined being an orphan. It was so especially hard to tell someone that I loved them and even harder still to finally have my heart broken again.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If it wasn't for my wonderful daughter Tara, who I would walk the earth for, I am not sure how I would have made it this far.  Somehow, because of her I want to be me more than ever once again, after all it is ME that she loves and it is me that she depends upon.  Yes I still want to be that good son, and yes I want to be that very best friend, and yes I still do want to be that perfect husband,  not that I ever really and truly were any of these things but the people, these people that I shared my life with, they always let me think that I was somehow all of those things, that is what has made my life worth while; the people.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;From time to time Tara still lets me think that I am the best dad ever and for now that is enough.  Someday perhaps I will find another friend, maybe even find another smile but for now..yes at least for now that is quite enough.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One always dies too soon --or too late.  And yet one's whole life is complete at that moment, with a line drawn neatly under it, ready for the summing up.  You are--your life, and nothing else...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7329975346112885220-201041497438956085?l=jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/feeds/201041497438956085/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7329975346112885220&amp;postID=201041497438956085' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/201041497438956085'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/201041497438956085'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/2008/10/funeral-for-pool-boy-frying-pans-and.html' title='FUNERAL FOR A POOL BOY? FRYING PANS AND FIRES'/><author><name>JIMSIGHT</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06342495591130676434</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SMh1bgmyVQI/AAAAAAAAABU/udEIFjiiKXE/S220/Photo+249.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7329975346112885220.post-8858267136008395160</id><published>2008-10-28T21:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-29T23:14:28.249-07:00</updated><title type='text'>FANCY FINISH</title><content type='html'>COLORS OF CHRISTMAS&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;So the time had finally come, it was Saturday and the Colors of Christmas at the Cerritos Performing Arts Center was the agenda.  Nancy actually had bought tickets herself, it was the first time she ever did anything like that.  Despite all the recent events in our relation I was still very uncertain as to exactly how this evening would play out.  My thoughts were to just make the best of it, try and get into the Holiday Spirit.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;That morning I decided t&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;o go the whole nine yards for the event, my grey pinstripe suit, red power tie, fresh manicure, fresh haircut, my shoes professionally polished hey after all it was going to be a very festive evening and I was sort of kind of sure that ou last conversation had cleared the air, we were going to just enjoy each other and see what happens, right?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;Jennifer (Nancy's Daughter) had a birthday that week so I picked her up a little gift. Nothing special, just something to open, a Martini kit, a nice shaker, four martini glasses and a bottle Grey Goose. I was at least to my knowledge still in a relationship with her mother and your supposed to buy gifts for that persons kids, yes?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After running my errands showering and doing my usual shave twice routine I got dressed, I turned and glanced at the clock, I was running late.  Holy Hell this never happens to me, better get moving.  I stopped and looked in the mirror before running out the door, it was one of those times when you look in the mirror and think "damn I look good tonight".  Not bragging by any means, we all have those days as well as those days when we shriek and wonder who that person is.  This just happened to be one of those really good days.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Down the stairs I went, straight out to the garage, jumped into the Jag fired it up and Jim was off.  Ten minutes later I was buzzing up the 55  when I noticed the blue lights behind me,  oh no fucking way.  I pulled over into the emergency lane and accepted my fast driver award from Mr. CHP...jeez louise, I wasn't exactly burning up the pavement.  The ticket was for 72 miles per hr.  Dear lord I had been passed by a flock of cars right before I was pulled over.  I told the CHP that my speed was really going with the flow of traffic, he just said "well I just got on at Dyer and you were the first car I saw"... JUST GREAT!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I called FANCY to tell her I was running a little late and why,  she said "no big deal we will be waiting outside" not a sorry or mention of the ticket.  Apparently she had told Hanna (the gal that introduced us in the first place and her daughters friend) to come to her house and I would drive to the theatre from there.  After all was said and done, fast driver award included I was still only about 5 minutes late, I jumped out and opened the doors for the ladies, I told them both how nice they looked and Hanna told me I looked very handsome,  I leaned over to give NANCY  a kiss and she turned her cheek to me without saying so much as a courtesy hello, huh...great start to the evening.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;While we drove to Macaroni Grille to meet Jennifer, Nancy and Hanna chatted up a storm. They  were talking about some club in Fullerton as we rolled down the 91 when out of the blue Nancy mentioned something about how she missed going out Dancing.  This struck me as very odd since one of the things I suggested we do that might be fun was to take some dance lessons together.  You know, maybe some swing or salsa with a little ballroom thrown in.  I actually printed out a handful of options from the Internet(some with lessons and then a dance, some just lessons).  I gave them to her about a six weeks prior and asked her to pick one and I would sign us up.  She never did pick one and now was going to complain about not going out dancing. It was one of many such examples of things I didn't understand during our time together, not that I expect to understand everything but some are black and white to me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We got to the parking and lot of Macaroni Grille and Jennifer was waiting for us, I got her gift from the trunk and gave it to her.  She was very surprised and thanked me with a hug and proceeded to tell me how nice I looked, FANCY made some sort of a grunting noise or maybe it was a hurumph,  Jennifer turned and asked her what her problem was.  Jennifer and I actually got along pretty well even after the Thanksgiving debacle, she had told me a couple of times how happy her mom was since we started dating, guess I wasn't the only one that was confused at this point.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;After walking inside and getting our table we ordered drinks and our meals.  The place was packed and very loud, we all chatted about the usual what have you been doing type of things.  It seemed to be that every time I had something to say FANCY would interrupt to talk about her and Jennifer's upcoming trip.  It was really starting to irritate me but I decided to let it go, it was no big deal.  We finished the meal and when the check came Nancy announced that she would pay for her and Jennifer,  I thought what the fuck is this all about?  I grabbed the check up,  I said "you were nice enough to get the tickets I can surely pick up the meal".  A cold, straight up "whatever" was her reply.  Jennifer and Hanna obviously becoming uncomfortable quickly chimed in with a thank you Jim.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The walk to the Art's Center was no more friendly, I reached for Nancy's hand and she pulled it away, this had all the makings of a long evening, that would prove to be an understatement.  I tried to talk to her and made another attempt to take her hand, it was like holding a dead fish, totally limp and cold.  I let go after a minute or two.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The place was packed, I have not felt so much like a snowflake since I went to the Swing Auditorium in San Bernardino for a Tower of Power and War concert, it really doesn't bother me, I think its kind of funny actually.  At least at the aforementioned show I wanted to be there.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We got our programs and found our seats, the entertainment was Marilyn McCoo and Billy Davis Junior, Ben Vereen, some other folks I had never heard of, mostly singing Christmas Carols and Gospel tunes.  The audience was doing a lot of that annoying chair dancing thing. The applause and hooting seemed forced, the show had all the earmarks of a bad 70s variety show.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The longer the show went on the colder Nancy got, by the time intermission rolled around if you would have shoved a stick up her ass you could have sold her with any other Big Stick.  I was done fit to be tied but continued to bite my tongue. As we walked to the lobby I asked if anyone wanted a drink, took their orders and all but ran to the bar.  I had thoughts at that point of just leaving them there, Jennifer had her car they would be fine, but decided on sticking it out.  When I came back NANCY was in the restroom.  Jennifer and Hanna started firing questions, "what the fuck is going on with you guys?" "what is wrong with my mother?" I told them I had no idea but that things had not been going all that great as of late, but I was under the impression we had talked through it.  "Whatever the circumstances are, she is just being a bitch" Jennifer said.  I did not agree or disagree, I just wanted the night to end at that point.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;FANCY came back from the ladies room and said she decided she didn't want her drink, Hanna and Jennifer readily poured it into their drinks and chugged it down, I was wishing that it was me. As we returned to our seats Nancy talked about how great the show was, no one responded. Between pretending to have a good time, getting cold stares I was starting to come to a simmer, the boil was not to far off in the horizon.  Thank god after Ben Vereen did some songs from Jesus Christ Superstar (who even knew Ben was still alive I thought) there was a big finale and the show was over. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Leaving the theatre NANCY started walking ahead of me, I just let her go...at first Jennifer, Hanna and I were walking about ten feet behind her, then twenty...finally FANCY stopped and waited.  I think it was the laughter from the girls that got her attention, she wanted to know what we were talking about.  Mostly it was Hanna and Jennifer bagging on the show.  As for me, I didn't have much to say about anything at that point.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The drive back to Yorba Linda seemed like a thousand miles of silence with a few very brief Hanna and Nancy interactions, you could hear how uncomfortable Hanna was with the situation in her voice, it had a doppler affect going, I felt bad for her.  If the tension would have been any thicker I would have had to roll the windows down to breath.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I pulled into FANCY's driveway and I swear before I could get to NANCY's door Hanna was out of the car and halfway down the street to her car.  She was almost yelling a thank you back at Fancy for the show and me for the dinner, she seemingly started her car from ten feet away and jumped in through the window, she pulled out and was gone in a matter of seconds.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Turning to Nancy I said "well that was certainly a different evening".  She asked me what I meant, I told her "I am not so sure I have ever been treated so rudely by anyone".  Instantly she went on the attack, "how am I supposed to act?"  " I think you just use me for sex?" "you never take me on any trips" "you never come over during your lunch" "where is this relationship going?" , I tried to explain myself, "I have no idea Nancy, we have only been dating for three months" "I have no idea where this is going, should I?"  She looked at me with a glare that spelled serial killer, "you are such a little boy, you can't commit to anything".  Out of nowhere the magic words came to me, "If by that you mean I am not looking to be husband number five or six you could not be more right" BINGO, BUZZ, HOME RUN, FLUSH, whatever you want to call it, her face turned red, she screamed "HOW DARE YOU" she turned and ran towards the front door of her house.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I felt an immediate since of relief, ok let's get the fuck out of here.  I got in my car and started the engine, I started to back out when she came running back out screaming and swearing at me, I have no idea what she was saying nor did I want to know, but I guess that maybe I must have struck a nerve....I was afraid she was going to jump in front of the car or something but thankfully she didn't....she was still standing in the middle of the street screaming with that Brooklyn accent some indiscernible profanity as I drove around the corner. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I hadn't even made it to the freeway when Hanna called me, Jennifer had already called her, meaning that Nancy had already called Jennifer...whew boy you ladies are fast.  She wanted to know what it was that was said, I told her and she said oh my god Jim really? "Really" was all I could say, and yes I am fine.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;FANCY AND I never spoke another word, Hanna told me recently that Nancy sold her house and moved to some semi-senior condo place in Laguna Niguel, I am sure she will find number five or six or seven,  whatever her magic number is, someone a little more her age, I wish her nothing but the best.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am actually very grateful for the time I got to spend with FANCY NANCY,  after all it was the first time in a very long time for so many things for me.  I really never thought I would ever date again, that I would kiss another woman, I was certain that I would never sleep with another woman again, I never thought so many things would ever happen again, but that is what its like when you lose the love of your life......&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was absolutely certain that I would never fall in love again,  as far as JIM and FANCY NANCY went that was very true, but you have to start somewhere right? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am certainly not the hero in this adventure and FANCY was certainly not the villain, that really is not what I hoped to portray by writing this little escapade.  At the most I was just trying to give a little insight into what may or may not go on in the head of a recently widowed guy when he starts dating again, just a guy trying to move on with his life.  Along with all the insecurities and uncertainties that come with it.  At the least I hope it gave you a laugh or two, just take from it what you will, I hope I left a little on the plate for anyone that took the time to read it, thanks. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;J'attends oujours ma deuxieme chance avec Charmaine.  Au cas ou quelqu'un se demande.  J'apprecierais si une chance de valser elle autour de la Piece de Lumiere des etoiles.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7329975346112885220-8858267136008395160?l=jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/feeds/8858267136008395160/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7329975346112885220&amp;postID=8858267136008395160' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/8858267136008395160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/8858267136008395160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/2008/10/fancy-finish.html' title='FANCY FINISH'/><author><name>JIMSIGHT</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06342495591130676434</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SMh1bgmyVQI/AAAAAAAAABU/udEIFjiiKXE/S220/Photo+249.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7329975346112885220.post-1728608829218162715</id><published>2008-10-08T18:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-10T11:29:29.691-07:00</updated><title type='text'>ENCHANTED, NOT SO MUCH</title><content type='html'>Dinner and a Movie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spent a great deal of my time after Thanksgiving running my relationship with Nancy around and around in my mind . Weighing the pros and cons of what had started as a simple group date, a chance to get out again and how it had turned into something much bigger. I asked myself THE BIGGER QUESTION was I really ready for an exclusive serious relationship. How long had it been since this all started, it seemed as though it were yesterday and years all at the same time. I was enjoying not being alone again and that was for sure. I felt alive again, getting out,  going to nice places again, especially with a pretty woman at my side. Somehow I let this all get away from me, she was looking for something faster than I was willing to commit too, we needed to talk and on a much deeper level than we ever had before and that was obvious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love had come so easy with Joanne, we had let our &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;ego's&lt;/span&gt;, our independence and our young spirits get in the way for a long time before finally settling down, but falling in love, that was the easy part. There was never an issue with wether or not we were in love with each other.  I wondered if falling in love that way was exclusively for the young, if this new feeling of just being comfortable is what I will now be left wiht to fill that empty whole.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The phone rang, it was Fancy she asked if we could go to Happy Hour and a Movie, just something simple since we had the big "Colors of Christmas Show" coming up. Do you have a movie in mind? "No we can figure that out when you get here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Making the drive to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Yorba&lt;/span&gt; Linda had become second nature, it is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;after all&lt;/span&gt; the same route I take to the office everyday.  I arrived at Nancy's as per usual, flowers in hand like a dating robot.  She played with them while I looked &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;thru&lt;/span&gt; the paper, I may or may not have mentioned but I don't really go to the movies much.  More of an Indy film kinda guy and unless you go to a film festival the good ones are few and far between.  I didn't really recognize any of the movies by name so I waited for her to finish and we looked together.  "OH ENCHANTED" she said, "THAT IS THE ONE WITH MC DREAMY" "Would you mind seeing that?", I  came back with a "sure whatever you want to see is fine with me".  We selected a time and a theatre and off we went.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we were leaving the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;sky's&lt;/span&gt; opened up, it was raining sideways for real...Fancy wanted to go to Chili's for happy hour, she wanted some chicken dish that they serve..."fine with me" I told her.  I had only been to Chili's once in my life, I am not a snob by any stretch but I don't do Chain &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Restaurants&lt;/span&gt; as a rule, I just don't, figured what the heck they have cocktails right?  It might be a good chance to talk on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;neutral&lt;/span&gt; soil.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the time we got to Chili's the rain seemed to be coming from all &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;directions&lt;/span&gt;...I parked ran around to the trunk and got an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;umbrella&lt;/span&gt; from the trunk, made my way around and opened &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;FANCY's&lt;/span&gt; door, we clung to each other to stay in the small dry haven provide by the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;umbrella&lt;/span&gt; and raced towards the door, it was fun.  I enjoy moments like that, there is something innocent and fresh involved.  We made it &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;thru&lt;/span&gt; the doors, Nancy headed straight to the Ladies room to make sure her hair was intact.  I went into the bar and found us a table.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She ordered her usual, I had a crown rocks....she ordered and I am straining to remember but I think it was some type of sesame chicken, I think I got nachos...it was Chili's so who cares right?&lt;br /&gt;It didn't take long before I told her I wanted to discuss what I had told her on Thanksgiving and why I felt that way, the whole it seemed a bit fast for me and that she was the first person I had dated,  I told her how I enjoyed our time together, how I liked to hold her hand,  I must have went on for 10 minutes...this time it was Nancy who looked like the dog in that Doonesbury Cartoon..Finally she came back with a "I am not trying to rush you Jim" "Really".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Was I putting all this pressure on myself, was I really that delusional.  We ate in near silence, I tried to start a few &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;conversations&lt;/span&gt;, asked her who this &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;Mc&lt;/span&gt; Dreamy dude was, blah blah blah...her answers were short and to the point.  She did tell me that she and her daughter were going to the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Caribbean&lt;/span&gt; in January for two weeks, and that she was not going to decorate her house for Christmas because her wrists were bothering her to much.  I offered to come over and help if she needed anything lifted, moved, put up, whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to the car we went, still raining...this time there was no clinging onto each other, more like squeezing under the umbrella without touching...that is hard to do but she was managing quite fine. What a stark contrast there had been between our running and our running out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was only a 10 minute drive to the theatre,  I purchased the tickets and we made our way inside.  It was a Disney Cartoon? Oh wait no it has real people in it, Nancy had told me about that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;Mc&lt;/span&gt; Dreamy dude...The movie started, it was a cartoon and a movie, it was very cute, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;moderately&lt;/span&gt; funny and very sweet on the romantic theme.  I tried on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;numerous&lt;/span&gt; occasion to hold Fancy's hand but she complained that her wrists were sore...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the way back to her house we made small talk about the move,  I thought it was entertaining, she enjoyed it as well...silence...small talk about the weather....silence...I asked her about the "Colors of Christmas" plans and she told me she would let me know as soon as Jennifer called her on Saturday....more silence...we arrived at back at her house,  as I walked her to the door she told me she wasn't feeling well and would I mind if she just went to bed.  "Whew" was all I could thing....while the temperature in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;Yorba&lt;/span&gt; Linda was falling quickly, it couldn't match how quickly this relationship had cooled off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said good night and gave her a small kiss and told her I hoped she felt better, she looked in my eyes and smiled and said goodnight.  She turned, walked inside and the door closed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7329975346112885220-1728608829218162715?l=jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/feeds/1728608829218162715/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7329975346112885220&amp;postID=1728608829218162715' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/1728608829218162715'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/1728608829218162715'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/2008/10/enchanted-not-so-much.html' title='ENCHANTED, NOT SO MUCH'/><author><name>JIMSIGHT</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06342495591130676434</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SMh1bgmyVQI/AAAAAAAAABU/udEIFjiiKXE/S220/Photo+249.jpg'/></author><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7329975346112885220.post-611514819876949893</id><published>2008-10-01T18:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-07T19:23:35.680-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A FANCY THANKSGIVING</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SOQopHQBn-I/AAAAAAAAACY/x3fmwMqeMCc/s1600-h/thanksgiving.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5252367752206852066" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SOQopHQBn-I/AAAAAAAAACY/x3fmwMqeMCc/s320/thanksgiving.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;In 1621, the Plymouth colonists and Wampanoag Indians shared an autumn harvest feast which is acknowledged today as one of the first Thanksgiving celebrations in the colonies. This harvest meal has become a symbol of cooperation and interaction between English colonists and Native Americans. Although this feast is considered by many to the very first Thanksgiving celebration, it was actually in keeping with a long tradition of celebrating the harvest and giving thanks for a successful bounty of crops. Native American groups throughout the Americas, including the Pueblo, Cherokee, Creek and many others organized harvest festivals, ceremonial dances, and other celebrations of thanks for centuries before the arrival of Europeans in North America.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I can assure you my Thanksgiving while moderately enjoyable was nothing like the above.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My daughter and I put together a fabulous salad, that was our contribution to the festivities, well that and a beautiful bouquet of Roses and a couple bottles of Champagne...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We mad our famous salad with peaches (preferably donut/ufo) , fresh buffalo mozzarella, prosciutto, pecans, sun dried tomatoes, Sicilian olives, shallots, fresh field greens, drizzle some high end virgin olive oil and some aged balsamic on this mix and wow you will be the hit of the party...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We left for the festivities, Tara following me in her car.  She had an exit plan, as previously mentioned I did not.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We arrived to a house full of people we didn't know, Fancy was going crazy in the kitchen, the house had horn-o-plenty everywhere.  Her son was on the couch watching football, his girlfriend and her parents were in the yard.  Her daughter was making cosmo's...hmmm like mother like daughter.  Her daughter had a two of her friends there.  Then there was Nancy's friend from New York (damn what was her name) and her boyfriend.  The one's that had the Armenian cocktail party...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tara quickly mixed in, she makes me so proud in public settings.  She is so very personable and extremely intelligent, just like her dad LOL.  She can charm the rattle from a baby's hand or from a snakes tail, doesn't matter. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I went into the kitchen with the salad and showed Nancy, asked her what I could do to help.  She asked me to check the table settings to make sure they were ok....oh shit I forgot the champagne...back out to the car I went.  By the time I came back she was in the dining room checking the table settings,  I apologized put the champagne in the fridge and made my way to the sink.  I started cleaning up what was there and FANCY gave me a little hug from behind, "your always doing the right thing" she said.  Was this coming together again?  She had me taste the gravy, hmmmm...(not bad) oh that's so good I said.  She had me check the turkey, oh it really good I told her (oh my that is going to be dry I thought).  I quickly cleaned the sink full of pots, pans and what not.  Nancy asked me to go mingle at that point and I was eager to do so.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I went in the backyard where my daughter was holding court, she was in the center of the crowd answering question.  I love my Tara, she has so many qualities that I would have wanted her to have, why can't she clean her room...oh well that is what the housekeeper is for I guess? I joined the fray and even did a little back up for my vegetarian, right wing, animal activist, women's liberation, pro choice and most importantly to me a huge supporter of the less fortunate kid...god I love her.  The Republican Yorba Linda crowd was wowed by the father daughter team.  We were spectacular and that is an understatement.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The dinner bell sounded and off we went to the table.  I was seated at the head of the table, wow I thought this is just a little odd.  Everyone loved the salad, they kept eating the salad..as the turkey came out, as the stuffing came out, as all the sides came out.....uh oh..Nancy started looking at me as if I did something wrong...we forged on...everyone finally started enjoying the meal for what it was...I excused myself and went to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of champagne, I called for Jennifer (Nancy's daughter) she found the glasses.  We made our way back in and I proposed a toast to our hostess...She cried...oh dear, that was not my intention.  It was a simple toast, thanking her for bringing us together and working so hard that we might enjoy our Holiday....and she cried...I was dumbstruck.  I thought for a moment, she really does have feelings, maybe?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Things turned rather quickly when Robert spilled a glass of wine during dessert.  The beautiful table cloth, the white carpeting and FANCY's pants now had red wine all over them.  She just wanted a simple, I am sorry mom.  It turned into a bit of a screaming match...people started to exit from the dining room.  Jennifer sided with her brother, Nancy was distraught.  I came to her side, I was not going to let this happen.  The "kids" told me that they liked me and that they didn't understand what I was doing with their mother...I was fucking pissed (mainly because I didn't know) because I wasn't going to let this happen on thanksgiving.  Tara quickly joined in, she and somehow she made the peace...oh my an 18 year old finds the sense to deflate the situation, how does that happen. (such a proud dad, why can't she do her own laundry)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Slowly but surely everyone started to leave, I was very sad when my daughter left.  It was finally just Nancy and Jim again.  I helped clean the entire mess, every dish, every ashtray, eventually her house was as it was the first and every time I had ever scene it immaculate.  We sat on the couch, I told her how nice the day had been and thanked her for having my tiny family.  I kissed her and thanked her again, she looked me in the eyes and told me she loved me. OH DEAR LORD NO....(we had never addressed the phone call).  I told her that I while i did so much enjoy my time with her I was not going to tell her that I loved her just to say it, that I need to feel it.  She said she understood, she got up and started packing me my to go plate.  Things turn on a dime, so I have been told.  Anyone got change for a quarter?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was driving home in a matter of moments.....was that my exit strategy? I was listening to my heart for a change, I was being honest, I was going to sleep alone. (so be it)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;only two dates left...one you will love, the other you will totally love...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7329975346112885220-611514819876949893?l=jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/feeds/611514819876949893/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7329975346112885220&amp;postID=611514819876949893' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/611514819876949893'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/611514819876949893'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/2008/10/fancy-thanksgiving.html' title='A FANCY THANKSGIVING'/><author><name>JIMSIGHT</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06342495591130676434</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SMh1bgmyVQI/AAAAAAAAABU/udEIFjiiKXE/S220/Photo+249.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SOQopHQBn-I/AAAAAAAAACY/x3fmwMqeMCc/s72-c/thanksgiving.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7329975346112885220.post-4302067637315406433</id><published>2008-09-22T19:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-01T20:13:10.367-07:00</updated><title type='text'>NOVEMBER RAIN</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;I MUST BE MISSING SOMETHING, SERIOUSLY I MUST.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Between the time of my return from our/my/Fancy's Vegas trip and my departure for Montreal, I only saw the FANCY one once. It was supposed to be an uneventful and early evening spent at her house. I had made some stuffed banana peppers (with italian sausage, good parm and some wild mushrooms) complemented them with a nice San Marzano Marinara Sauce and a delightful side of Spaghetti Squash, I packed it all up and proceeded to play meals on wheels. Zoom Zoom to Yorba Linda I go. I stopped at the liquor barn and picked up a bottle of Chianti to top the meal off.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Nancy was very impressed with the food. While we dined we chatted about her week of hair appointments, her sore wrists, her friends from NY, I tried on several occasion to inject a few current event topics but to no avial. Suddenly (at least to me) and quite out of the blue we were discussing how upset she was with me. That she was extremely hurt over the whole Las Vegas trip. SAY WHAT? Her Brooklyn accent was once again not only noticeable but was getting stronger by the second, "you acted like you where glad I wasn't there" (she did not just say that), "then you didn't apologize after your smart ass call from that Emeril place". All at once I was having a very hard time focusing, my temples were throbbing like I had a little drummer boy using them as a snare drum. I felt like I was the dog in one of my favorite Doonesbury Cartoon, what humans say vs what dogs hear. It shows a women talking to her dog, she is reasoning with the dog of course and then it shows what the dog hears,(blah blah blah blah). Again I could feel myself leaving my body and rising above to watching myself lean forward was it to possibly better discern what was being said, or was it to understand why it was being said, hell I don't know. Just as I started to come back into the conscious realm of understanding it was over.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Whatever that droning noise that was coming out of her mouth was, had ended. Then just as suddenly NANCY told me that she was going to forgive me and that I just needed to make sure and call her more often when I am traveling. Bam I was in the twilight zone, another quick shift "Are you going to watch Dancing With the Stars with me?" were the next words out of her mouth.......I felt like I had just been pistol whipped then lobotomized, what was in that Chianti. I told FANCY that I had an early conference call (the truth)and that it was going to be a very long week(the truth), and finally that I really needed to get home and spend some time with my daughter before going away.(not so much the truth, Tara was in Santa Rosa at my sisters)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;A simple kiss goodnight and I was out the door, still a trifle dazed and confused. During the drive home I started wondering in earnest what my exit strategy would be, should I have an exit strategy...did I really have to do the whole Thanksgiving thing with her and her kids and my kid and her friends, would it be better to cancel? More importantly I started wondering if I really wanted to be alone again, for me a scary thought that I had not really considered since we entered into a committed and sexual relationship...son of a bitch...my head hurts.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Montreal was a welcome relief indeed, there was time to regroup and gather my thoughts, share fine French meals with peers that understand how I tick, but most importantly at the end of each day to be just be alone.  To try and remember how I used to love to be alone.  There was a time in my life when just being me was plenty and I was trying to get to that place again.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I think I mentioned it before but if you have never been to Montreal go...just go...Old Montreal is beautiful, the people are friendly, it helps to speak some French.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Oui Charmaine, le garçon de piscine parle plusieurs langues couramment et a aussi pris des leçons dans la danse de bal.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Should you want to try an exquisite French meal in Old Montreal, I suggest Toque without a doubt one of the finest places I have ever had the pleasue of feasting.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Le foi gras est incroyable, le service chaud et suffocant. Le Prix français fondamental sans tient barricadé.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Le Garçon de Piscine Très Désolé a été perdu en France un moment.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So I spent the week enjoying me, nothing wrong with that, I kind of started to like me again...I called Fancy regularly, minded my p's and q's. Tried my best not to tell her what a great time I was having, yes I said all the things she wanted to hear, well almost. She told me she missed me and was glad I was coming home, I told her I missed her, she told me that she loved me, I told her that I missed her...INSERT AWKWARD PAUSE HERE. I followed with an I will call you when I get into L.A. good night Nancy talk to you soon.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The flight home was restless.... I keep trying to ignore what is happening and try to hypnotize myself into believing that I am just having a good time with this woman and that things will work out somehow, then buzzzzzz another fly jumps in the ointment. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Thanksgiving is right around the corner, only a couple dates left....sorry for delaying this but hey no one was sorrier than me for having the last few dates....so lets suffer through them together, shall we.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7329975346112885220-4302067637315406433?l=jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/feeds/4302067637315406433/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7329975346112885220&amp;postID=4302067637315406433' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/4302067637315406433'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/4302067637315406433'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/2008/09/november-rain.html' title='NOVEMBER RAIN'/><author><name>JIMSIGHT</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06342495591130676434</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SMh1bgmyVQI/AAAAAAAAABU/udEIFjiiKXE/S220/Photo+249.jpg'/></author><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7329975346112885220.post-24442022592809491</id><published>2008-09-22T10:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-22T15:32:09.386-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fondue (who knew) and Leaving Las Vegas</title><content type='html'>Another Two Date Collage&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fondue&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quite possibly the best date I ever had with FACNY NANCY, I would have never thought that in a milion years going in but it was a really nice evening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course I was looking for something a little different, its what I do, I am a planner and a pleaser what can I say. Trust me this has been no easy feat to keep dates fresh with the Fancy One, her scope of adventure is quite limited...no seafood, no Thai, no this, no that, no no no no no ....get the picture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thiink I was reading OC Weekly or something when I ran across and ad for "The Melting Pot"....hmmmmm now cheese is something that Nancy really does like, and she eats steak, chocolate...I thought it might be fun if nothing else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Set the date and did my usual, picked up the flowers and hit the highway for good ole Yorba Linda. It was a little misty out so some fondue should be fun. Got to her house, took the dog out to "Make" while she finished getting ready. She came down the steps and I thought, wow we are dressed alike, nice jeans, white shirts, black leather jackets...no not biker ones...we had been told that we made an attractive couple a few times, now we were dressing like one...LOL&gt;..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Off we went to the Melting Pot...there is one in Brea. The booths are really comfy, high backs and not those leather or pleather ones either. Not sure if I mentioned this but I really prefer to sit on the same side of the table as my date if possible. This is the perfect place for that. We looked at the menu. I ordered a bottle of wine, Fancy got a (yes you guessed it) Cosmo or some variation on one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had the " The Big Night Out", it comes with everything you could want, the cheese fondue, lobster, filet all kinds of good stuff...I think you have like three choices of different combos and a couple choices of styles, I do remember we had Coq au Vin. The food was really good, for some reason I was surprised, just wasn't expecting it to be as good as it was. We made our way thru the Cheese fondue and it was very relaxed and fun...the entree fondue came and by then we were feeding each other and taking kiss breaks (PDA's are way ok with me). By the time we got to the Dessert Fondue I was honestly more relaxed as far as being a couple goes as I had ever been with Fancy...maybe the stars were aligned or something but it all just worked. I think we spent between 2 and 3 hours in total at the place including looking into having her daughters birthday party there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She invited me to spend the night on the way back to her house. I was going to ask her why she waits until after the meal to do that, I never pack to go to her house, it just doesn't seem right to me without being invited...I stayed over, made breakfast for us in the morning wore her son's clothes again. She wanted me to stay and go out to dinner with some of her friends. Told her had I known a little in advance maybe I could have arrnaged it but I have no clothes and already made plans with my kid to have dinner so as nice as the night had been sorry but I just can't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leaving (for) Las Vegas&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had one date between the Fondue place and this debacle...the Brea Improve...it was a fun night, Kathleen Madigan was the comic (very funny) but Fancy got a little sideways drinky pooh wise, she went on a rant back at her house regarding her Lawsuits, LAWSUITS??????....yep, did I tell you she was a parralegal, well she had some sort of disability, wrongful termination, pain and suffering, hey I am from NY gimme some God Damn money lawsuit going against the firm she had worked for. Then there was the wrongful death/malpractice suit that had just wraped up (something to do with when her mother passed away) and one last one against husband NUMBER FOUR regarding a shared property or somthing...HUSBAND NUMBER FOUR...WTF..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By this time all the plans had already been made for las Vegas, the flights and room booked and the Fondue night had been really nice so off we go...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Drove to her house to pick her up...even though we were leaving from Long Beach. I was halfway to her house when the phone rang. She was really sick and wouldn't be able to go, went on and on about how sorry she was about it, I explained that it was ok. I understand that people get sick and that it is not there fault.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then she asked me what I was going to do? When I told her that I was going to get off the freeway turn around and go to the Airport....She sounded stunned that I was going to go without her. I reminded her that I had a meeting in the morning and she asked me if I couldn't just reschedule the meeting, she saw no sence in me flying up there for a quick morning meeting and flying home..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I don't want to reschedule the meeting" I told her "and I am going to stay for the entire weekend as planned." (she had a cold for gods sake). "I will call you from Vegas, hope you feel better"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow...did that really just happen, didn't we talk the night before, she was totally fine and excited to go. Did she really expect me to just call the whole thing off.... and do what?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After checking in I called Nancy to tell her how really nice the room was, that the flowers and martini makings were sitting by the jacuzzi as ordered and all that was really missing was her, I was trying to be nice. I really was. She said she was sorry again and I told her not to worry, that there is always a next time. (maybe not for her but yes there is always a next time). I called down to the desk and asked them if I could change rooms. It would be silly spending this kind of scratch on a room for just me. They were very accomodating and that they would move in the AM...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After my meeting I called to see how Nancy was doing. She said she felt much better and wanted to know if I could get her a flight for that night...I actually tried..what an idiot I am sometimes. It was Halloween weekend and everything was booked...then she told me that she would drive up..,I told her that I had already switched rooms and that this just was getting crazy, finally she just accepted the idea that Vegas was not in the cards (so to speak) for her this weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After Dinner at Emirl's ( 250$ on a meal for one, gotta say it was fine). called Fancy to tell her how good the place was, she actually started getting angry and asked if I had called just to rub it in...What?...I was calling to see how you felt, and to let you know that I was still going ahead with the plans I made so that you wouldn't feel guilty...not to rub it in..I really wanted to hang up on her, but managed to just exit the conversation cordially, told her I would call her when I got home and that I hope she felt better.....she still sounded angry...hmmmmm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the next day and a half I gambled, ate and drank all by myself..oh the horror.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a couple more business trips coming up between then and Thanksgiving, one to Savanah and another to Montreal in November doubt I will be asking her to join me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7329975346112885220-24442022592809491?l=jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/feeds/24442022592809491/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7329975346112885220&amp;postID=24442022592809491' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/24442022592809491'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/24442022592809491'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/2008/09/fondue-who-knew-and-leaving-las-vegas.html' title='Fondue (who knew) and Leaving Las Vegas'/><author><name>JIMSIGHT</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06342495591130676434</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SMh1bgmyVQI/AAAAAAAAABU/udEIFjiiKXE/S220/Photo+249.jpg'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7329975346112885220.post-4080724231017828397</id><published>2008-09-20T23:09:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-12T21:15:31.742-07:00</updated><title type='text'>PETER PAN WHERE ARE YOU?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;1963 was the year I turned seven, I still have many memories of random events from that year. I of course didn't know it then but it would be a year that would shape small pieces of the man I would become.&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img style="text-align: justify;float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; " src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SPLItX_-X_I/AAAAAAAAACg/_VXZ_98G4Z8/s320/martin_m_pic2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256484396956803058" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Like Peter Pan I tend to retreat into memories from time to time, it gives me solace especially when my own mortality rears its ugly head. I still remember gathering around the television to watch the stage production of Peter Pan staring Mary Martin, it was only on television once a year, for me that day was magical. From time to time I am still lucky enough as to find my Never Never Land.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I held my Uncle Jim's hand in the ICU last night, I was telling him stories of how smart I always thought he had looked in his hat when I was a little boy. Men always wore hats with their suits in the early 60's, at least the men that I knew.  They were so much more convincing than other men, the men in hats I mean.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The Family&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Pope John died that spring , that is all I can remember as far as details of the event, but I will always remember the Sunday afterward. My entire family met at Holy Rosary Church for Mass. I dressed in my best little man suit, complete with my little man hat, I knew that this must be very important. The only meaningful recollections of the event for me were the looks on the faces in the crowd, they were so interesting and yet disturbing at the same time. I had no true understanding of what the Pope symbolized and therefore made the leap that it actually did not concern me, so I spent my time studying the crowd. The faces, looking at all the faces, especially the faces of my family, the infinite sadness etched into my grandmother's face, I used to think her face was made of wax, her skin was so smooth.  The collective stern and stoic gazes given by my uncles, my aunts and my parents, most of all I remember the confusion and disinterest shown by most of my cousins. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Had I been born with any artistic ability at all it this would make one hell of a painting. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Little Jimmy (hey that's me)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Very early that same summer we made our big move to California,  school had just ended and we would shortly be embarking on what my mother kept assuring me was to be the adventure of a lifetime. Her assurances were to no avail, my little heart was broken, I was leaving my friends, my school, the Pittsburgh Pirates, my cousins, aunts, uncles, Grandma Boyle but most of all I would be leaving my beloved Nana and Dickie Bird.  I can still feel the unfairness, it made no sense to leave your family, I just don't understand. I was to learn that summer that heartbreak is very real, that it is possible to be so sad that you don't get hungry, to cry so long that you have no tears, to scream and yell until you are blue in the face and yet in the end your heart is still broken. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The Nation&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Late that fall we were sent home from school on that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;fateful&lt;/span&gt; November morning, President Kennedy had been shot. I remember the slow almost snail paced walk home from school, I remember the toes on my black high top tennis shoes, the scuffing noise my heals made as I refused to lift my feat. I stared straight down as I walked the entire length of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Woodbridge&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; Ave. I wasn't sure why, it somehow seemed the right thing to do. We watched the news as a family that night, I think it was Walter &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Cronkite&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; that described it as the end of innocence, I had no idea what he was talking about, I had not ever seen my parents look so helpless. I remember later that week was my heart pounding in my chest while we watched the funeral and saw a little boy, a boy who at that time seemed so much younger than me salute his fallen father, he still looked very innocent to me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My aunt Jeannette woke me gently, "Jimmy, you have been here all night" "Why don't you go back to the house and get some rest?" "Uncle Jim is doing fine right now, really he is".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Five hours had passed since I had started thinking about men in hats and Peter Pan, my hand was still &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;firmly&lt;/span&gt; grasped around my Uncle Jim's. I wonder if he went with me back to 1963, I will have to ask him when he is feeling better, yes when he is feeling better.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I know a place where dreams are born, and time is never at hand. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's not on any chart you must find it in your heart, never never land. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7329975346112885220-4080724231017828397?l=jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/feeds/4080724231017828397/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7329975346112885220&amp;postID=4080724231017828397' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/4080724231017828397'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/4080724231017828397'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/2008/09/peter-pan-where-are-you.html' title='PETER PAN WHERE ARE YOU?'/><author><name>JIMSIGHT</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06342495591130676434</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SMh1bgmyVQI/AAAAAAAAABU/udEIFjiiKXE/S220/Photo+249.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SPLItX_-X_I/AAAAAAAAACg/_VXZ_98G4Z8/s72-c/martin_m_pic2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7329975346112885220.post-4511826609886478979</id><published>2008-09-18T14:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-18T14:46:18.887-07:00</updated><title type='text'>LIFE HAPPENS</title><content type='html'>Just in case anyone notices that nothing new is coming up....I am in Pittsburgh on a family emergency....hope to be back by early next week....not much in the mood for rehashing thing right now...sorry..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7329975346112885220-4511826609886478979?l=jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/feeds/4511826609886478979/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7329975346112885220&amp;postID=4511826609886478979' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/4511826609886478979'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/4511826609886478979'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/2008/09/life-happens.html' title='LIFE HAPPENS'/><author><name>JIMSIGHT</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06342495591130676434</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SMh1bgmyVQI/AAAAAAAAABU/udEIFjiiKXE/S220/Photo+249.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7329975346112885220.post-7706574190106262679</id><published>2008-09-16T14:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-16T20:28:25.978-07:00</updated><title type='text'>THE LONG BEACH PLAYHOUSE (Drama 101)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SNAlpztM5bI/AAAAAAAAAB8/IQcMlj6ODmg/s1600-h/LBC.2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246734966071289266" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 155px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 106px" height="120" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SNAlpztM5bI/AAAAAAAAAB8/IQcMlj6ODmg/s320/LBC.2.jpg" width="174" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; "Dead Wrong" Went and saw the opening night of this little comedy very funny....a comedy about a NY Italian Family that buries it's families members in the backyard. Things get crazy from there, get the picture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been a long time supporter of the Long Beach Playhouse and get invited on occasion to events like this. It is usually myself, my guest and 150 Long Beach Blue Hair's. Super sweet folks. It is such a cute place, they have a champagne reception with a crappy buffet, the food always goes along with the theme of the play...the Blue Hairs just love it. They act as if the actors are all big time starts too...I just adore old people and the theatre, this is perfect combo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While shredding some bills I came across a letter from the playhouse, how had I miss this. It wasn't one of the regular mailers and did not appear to be the standard cry for funds package. I tore it open and it was an invitation for two to the opening night of the earlier mentioned play, and the date was holy cow today. Wow it was 3:00PM on Saturday and I really had not planned on doing anything. I called the "Fancy" one and asked if she wanted to go, she said "sure" with that Brooklyn accent thing, it comes and goes...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can finally almost even think of what Nancy looks like in between dates not entirely still ...very very strange. From the first glimpse of Joanne I never forgot what she looked like. I was wondering if I could describe Nancy to a police sketch artist well enough to have her arrested or not, I doubt it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nancy said she would be pressed for time, the Play Started at 7:30 and she had to get ready and drive all the way to Huntington so she had to run. I feel for women in general, I think they all are beautiful in there own special way, not sure why they feel they aren't.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fancy got to my house and that was the first time she met my daughter Tara, Fancy walked to the family room and saw Tara standing in the kitchen, she was so startled by Tara's presence that it may as well have been Vlad the Impaler. While I fight tooth and nail with my daughter seemingly on a daily basis, I will say that she is twice as mature as both of Fancy's young adults put together and she was very hospitable to Nancy, she even told her how nice it was to finally meet her and that she had been looking forward to meeting her for a while now, the whole nine yards. Well Tara left for adventures unknown a few minutes later and Nancy proceeded to slap me on the arm, not like some love tap either, like wham...then she yelled "Why didn't you tell me your daughter was home" Wow...guess I am used to her being here I blurted out. I could kind of understand but really not so much...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We made it to the show on time, and Nancy (being from Brooklyn and half Italian) just thought it was the funniest thing ever, for some reason however she wasn't really into chatting with the Blue Hairs after the show, I never could figure that out either. They are so cute, I love chatting them up, they have the best stories.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We stopped of on the way back to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Casa&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Jimbo&lt;/span&gt; and had a cocktail at some place over in the Marina...the house band was playing one of my favorite songs,"Almost" by Elvis Costello a slow melodic jazz number and I asked her to dance, once again she declined saying no one else was dancing...it was probably for the best, I had not even considered why I love the song so much these days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dickie Bird used to tell me, "Boy" ( just in case you don't know why I always am referring to myself and why my Nana referred to me as a boy, silly boy, or the boy all the time is because that is what Dickie called me...always...not my brother he was Don...I was The Boy) "Boy, you wouldn't ever worry about what everyone is thinking of you, if you would just realize how seldom they do" I don't think I have been self conscious in public settings since I was 10..thanks Dickie Bird.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We made it back to my house and I made espresso, we sat in the back yard and talked it was a really nice October night in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;HB&lt;/span&gt;...I have some really really tall Palms in my yard and they look great in the moonlight. Well we started talking about the night and ended up talking about why I a hadn't warned her that Tara would be home. Would she have dressed differently or brought a gun or what would have been different, I could not get an answer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Conversation turned towards her family and we discussed her hatred of her sibling. Nancy told me of the time that her brother had injected his opinions and actually seemed to be taking contrary sides during her second divorce in Atlanta...ATLANTA.? SECOND DIVORCE? &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;OK&lt;/span&gt; so what I thought was number two had now become number 3 in the blink of an eye, I asked her to continue, she told me that she was exhausted and still had to drive all the way back to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;YORBA&lt;/span&gt; LINDA (not sure if she was hinting at staying but)...well she had just met my kid for the first time and so no way in hell was she getting invited to stay...I mean I could have put her up in the guest room but the thought never &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;occurred&lt;/span&gt; to me....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A quick kiss goodnight, and off she went. I had a business trip coming up in a couple weeks. Had to go to Vegas to audit a company on an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;acquisition&lt;/span&gt; I was working on, I thought hey maybe I will extend the trip though the weekend too, see if she wants to come...hmmmm....yeah that sounds good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later that night I put that Elvis Costello song on the stereo for another listen, I felt a tear roll down my cheek, I never saw it coming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Water always finds the path of least resistance, even though sometimes it just seems like such a long way to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Almost blue&lt;br /&gt;Almost doing things we used to do&lt;br /&gt;There’s a girl here and she’s almost you&lt;br /&gt;Almost all the things that your eyes once promised&lt;br /&gt;I see in hers too&lt;br /&gt;Now your eyes are red from crying&lt;br /&gt;Almost blue&lt;br /&gt;Flirting with this disaster became me&lt;br /&gt;It named me as the fool who only aimed to be&lt;br /&gt;Almost blue&lt;br /&gt;It’s almost touching it will almost do&lt;br /&gt;There’s a part of me that’s always true...always&lt;br /&gt;Not all good things come to an end now it is only a chosen few&lt;div&gt;I’&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;ve&lt;/span&gt; seen such an unhappy couple&lt;br /&gt;Almost me&lt;br /&gt;Almost you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Almost blue&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7329975346112885220-7706574190106262679?l=jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/feeds/7706574190106262679/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7329975346112885220&amp;postID=7706574190106262679' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/7706574190106262679'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/7706574190106262679'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/2008/09/long-beach-playhouse-drama-101.html' title='THE LONG BEACH PLAYHOUSE (Drama 101)'/><author><name>JIMSIGHT</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06342495591130676434</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SMh1bgmyVQI/AAAAAAAAABU/udEIFjiiKXE/S220/Photo+249.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SNAlpztM5bI/AAAAAAAAAB8/IQcMlj6ODmg/s72-c/LBC.2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7329975346112885220.post-3948514354373036519</id><published>2008-09-15T15:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-16T08:54:11.906-07:00</updated><title type='text'>SURF AND SAND ANYONE?</title><content type='html'>Th' expense of spirit in a waste of shameIs lust in action, and till action, lustIs perjur'd, murd'rous, bloody, full of blame,Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust,Enjoy'd no sooner but despisèd straight,Past reason hunted, and no sooner had,Past reason hated as a swallowed baitOn purpose laid to make the taker mad. . . .(shakespeare)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Man's demise lye in his loins, while his heart has bounds, his mind has none". (priest)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway you look at it, the whole sleeping with Fancy thing was not a great idea, not blaming her and not crucifying myself either, just saying at that moment in time I was already trudging down a path of utter confusion may as well make Jim's folly complete.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok so we are just about halfway thru with this, should we continue....oh sure why not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went to see the Greg Adams Band back at Spaghettini, great show..I have know Greg since way back in the Tower of Power days before he was a grammy winner, so when they play around his wife calls and asks if I want to come, Fancy thought this was really cool...giant name card on our table..the band acknowleding their friends in the crowd. She was chair dancing, I asked her if she wanted to dance and she was to embarrased because no one else was...like who cares, you either want to dance or not, am I wrong? Is everyone really watching and if they are what do they do with the information.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sure there were some less eventful dates in between, I afterall at this point was in a "Relationship" fully commited to do whatever it was that I had no idea of what it was that I was doing, or something like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fancy's Birthday was right around the corner, I thought it would be nice to take her somewhere, nothing to crazy its only been like 6 weeks at this point. So I invited her to spend her Birthday weekend with me at the Surf and Sand, we would eat at Splashes get massages trot around Laguna, maybe shop...you get the idea, a really relaxing weekend, sounds like fun right. So I call and ask her and SHE loves the idea, I book it and we are on. The next day she calls me and says that she changed her mind, she wants to cook and have her kids over for dinner. I told her that was fine with me afterall its was her birthday. I told her that I would come over and take her out to dinner for her Birthday on Friday....oh no she said, I want you to meet my kids...ah oh, that sounds a um uh great.....much better than the Surf and Sand thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunday was her actual birthday...so I went over on Friday Night and threw a little surprise party, I don't need adult children of Fancy Nancy's stealing my thunder. I brought a movie "Breakfast at Tiffany's" with me, dinner from the Wild Artichoke where we had dined for our first real dinner date...I also brought a flourless chocolate cake, a day pass to Spa Gregory, Teuscher's Truffles and a card, nothing to sappy just a cute card.. She was very happy with her gifts as evidence that I graduated from the guest room that night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked around trying to figure out what the big deal was, why we didn't come up here the last time, its nice...hey why is the dog in here? I am not sure about anyone else, but I don't do dogs in the bedroom unless sleeping is the only thing going on. Call me dogophobic or whatever but just not going down that road...no I am not thank you very much, I ended up letting Lilly out of the room on several occasiosn between then and morning, kept wandering how she was getting back in....I think FANCY would have been just fine with her in the room(creeped me out a bit). I even got up and made us breakfast in the morning, she had some odd combinations of food in the fridge but enough to put together some feta omlettes with tomatoe and clamata olives..yum I love that combo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was starting to feel more comfortable with the situation, not so much internal struggling going on in my head, but still something was missing(hmm), I wasn't going to worry about...at least not for now. Why rock the boat right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Birthday Roses were delivered on Saturday....she called and thanked me....asked me to come up a little earlier on Sunday if I could and help her get everything ready.. I agreed afterall it was her birthday why should she be doing all the prep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I got there her son Robert was sleeping on the couch, or sort of sleeping, nice that he could help her I thought. She made Chicken Parmesean, it was edible, that is all I am saying I made a cesear salad...Her daughter Jennifer arrived and started chruning out the "Cosmo's". Oh its a family thing I guess. Shortly after Jennifer's friend arrived, we had dinner and the kids made sport of Nancy the entire time, it verged on embarrasing, not sure what my place in this was so mildly uncomfortable. I popped the champagne that I brought and it took the edge off a bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dinner mercifully ended, we did the cake that Nancy had made for herself...sheesh great kids. They left right after giving there mother a group gift, WTF is that about I thought...it wasn't like they pitched in and bought her a house or something...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I helped with the dishes, and she told me all about how rough her breakup with the father had been on the kids and that they still resented it a bit. I asked her when that was and she told me 20 years ago...(WHAT??) hmmmmm....I knew she had been divorced 5 years prior....I gotta start paying better attention. I need to call Hanna and get some better intel...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still I ploded on, there is something to be said for having a comfort level established...not sure why that might be but we do tend to get used to what we have and that in some from is comfortable...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7329975346112885220-3948514354373036519?l=jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/feeds/3948514354373036519/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7329975346112885220&amp;postID=3948514354373036519' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/3948514354373036519'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/3948514354373036519'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/2008/09/surf-and-sand-anyone.html' title='SURF AND SAND ANYONE?'/><author><name>JIMSIGHT</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06342495591130676434</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SMh1bgmyVQI/AAAAAAAAABU/udEIFjiiKXE/S220/Photo+249.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7329975346112885220.post-1098523253035620529</id><published>2008-09-14T17:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-14T20:44:45.190-07:00</updated><title type='text'>230 OR BUST?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;How I Met My Blogger&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;In all fairness I do have to write something about this, yes? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;I had some apprehensions when I first made the reservation at 230, you see my first date with the only woman I developed any real feelings for since my wife passed was also at 230 and I wasn't 100% sure if it would be creepy or not. IT WAS.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;I know better than to think I would fall into a good parking spot, Laguna Beach 7ish...Forest Drive just not going to happen, but I am stubborn and so I circled the block twice before surrendering and cruising a couple streets over to find a spot, I parked got out and started walking over.  Just then zoom zoom, my date pulled up...we spotted each other at the same time.  She stopped and I showed her there was a spot right in front of me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;Charmaine has tried to tell me on a couple of occasions that she has aged 100 years since the photo that I have seen was taken,  she lied.  She popped out of her car and wow, she is a really gorgeous woman.  We started walking to the restaurant together and all of the sudden whoops her top came open.  I made a comment about wardrobe malfunction and she seemed to be oblivious to what I had said, I think she was busy trying to rescue her Bust from running free in Laguna Beach.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;We had arrived about 10 minutes early and the place was packed, I figured we would be standing on the street having a drink and get to talk for a moment, nope they seated us immediately. And  of course they seated us at the exact same table as my last date there, with Charmaine in the same chair that 00nancy had occupied in March, despite my best efforts I kept having thoughts about oonancy thru the whole night, thanks God you are a really funny dude sometimes.  (for the record 00nancy is not the same as Fancy Nancy) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;I am not sure but I think the manager started asking us how everything was before my ass hit the chair. It was so noisy I couldn't hear myself think.  My date was ever so busy arranging herself over and over (poor thing I felt bad for her), I am a gentleman and did not say a word about it. Do you have any idea how distracting having a beautiful woman arranging and rearranging her breasts in front of you all night while you try and have a conversation is? At the same time it was amusing to say the least, the other men in the place were enjoying it and that was for sure. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;We had dirty martini's and our meal was on the table before 7:30, seriously I felt like an old record being played on the wrong speed. I think the manager asked how everything was for the second time right as I was getting ready to take my first bite. I had to tell him to knock it off and slow down a little. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;Despite it all we forged on and finished our meals took a short but somewhat uncomfortable walk up and down Forest then straight to the cars, then a little hug and off she went.  I am a fairly attractive and confident guy, I gotta say I felt a bit intimidated and I am still not sure why.  Oh well Ces't le Vie.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Certainly don't see romance on the horizon, just one of those not so much on the chemistry things.  In guy talk, that means she didn't seem interested in me at all, not in any way shape or form.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;Hopefully I will still get to run some stairs or have an occasional meal with her she is a great gal..  Regarding my first opinion of her, the one where I said she was CHARMING, WITTY AND CUTE well they have changed a little, she is CHARMING WITTY AND BEAUTIFUL. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:48px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:48px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:13px;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:13px;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:13px;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:13px;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7329975346112885220-1098523253035620529?l=jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/feeds/1098523253035620529/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7329975346112885220&amp;postID=1098523253035620529' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/1098523253035620529'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/1098523253035620529'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/2008/09/230-or-bust.html' title='230 OR BUST?'/><author><name>JIMSIGHT</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06342495591130676434</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SMh1bgmyVQI/AAAAAAAAABU/udEIFjiiKXE/S220/Photo+249.jpg'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7329975346112885220.post-2569876347717996720</id><published>2008-09-12T19:31:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-12T22:38:21.171-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How do you do, I see you've met my, Faithful handyman!</title><content type='html'>How I met my wife:&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This one is for you Spicy, going to try and counter the venom after you read Ti &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Amo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I came to California for my 21st Birthday, it was a gift from my parents.  I think they just were really thinking that maybe this way I wouldn't be throwing huge keg/pool parties at the house all summer but it only delayed the inevitable.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I had stayed in contact with a couple of my best friends from my one and only year of high school in California and so I had a place to stay and friends I had not seen in years and it was after all California YES it is ON...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The fellows lived at some apartment complex in Fullerton just off of Harbor called The Pine Tree, oh yeah tons of pines for sure. I hated it, all I wanted to do was to be at the beach and all they wanted to do was play volleyball at the apartments.  They were the kings of the sand (at the freaking apartments). Now not to toot my own horn HONK HONK, but I am a better than average athlete and played some VB in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;high school&lt;/span&gt;, so I found a partner and we kicked there King Asses all over the sand...Bump Set Spike...thank you very much...but enough of this dribble...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The guy that I that played with me, ended up being my best friend as the years rolled by like a broken down damn. He passed away one year before my wife did from a type of Cancer that usually only attacks teenagers, he always did refuse to grow up.  I Love you Steve, and I miss you beyond fucking words.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Steve asked me later that day if I had ever seen the Rocky Horror picture show, I told him I had but only once and it was in Boston (I tried to go to school in Bean town but found the fun to be way to distracting) and I was a little &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;inebriated&lt;/span&gt; (the drinking age was 18 in Mass).  He told me that the whole Rocky horror scene was a cool or bitchin or some other term from the 70s, there was an old theatre in Fullerton called the Fox. They alternated between showing Harold and Maude and The Rocky Horror Picture Show.  I agreed of course not having a clue how that decision would change my life forever.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We got to the theatre and met some of Steve's friends, they told us they had met some chicks at the beach (why didn't we go to the beach I thought) and that the chicks were coming to hook up with them at the movies and then go partying with them.  At least that was the plan they had, little did any of us know that fate had other ideas. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As the streams of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Frankenfurter's&lt;/span&gt; and Brad's and Janet's and all the other characters paraded past on their way into the theatre I started to grow impatient and told Steve I was going in, just then his friend, what's his name is what I called him from that day forward yelled there they are, I turned to look, he was right well sort of...there SHE was, was much more like it....goose bumps on my arm right now, no kidding.  She walked right up to me, I looked at her and she had the biggest green eyes and was as Dickie Bird would say cute as a button, she looked right in my eyes and gave me the cutest &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Cheshire&lt;/span&gt; smile I have to this day ever seen in my life.  "Hi I'm Joanne" OH MY GOD was all I could think.&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;I of course stammered a bit and came up with the appropriate "Hi I'm Jim" and in an instant old what's his name jumped in between us and whisked her away in the blink of an eye. The next thing I remember was her turning and saying "you coming or what".  I realized that I must have been frozen in time for a few moments because they were at the door already and I was still a good 20 feet behind. I responded by trotting after her like a puppy bounding to anyone that calls. She turned again and looked at me and said "Hurry Up".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;While the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;menagerie&lt;/span&gt; of The Rocky Horror was playing out in front of us with everyone laughing and throwing toast and shouting along, I was busy stealing glances at this adorable little stranger. It wasn't very long before she noticed that I kept staring, she would catch me and smile that smile, the butterflies would float in my stomach. How do I get rid of what's his name became my newest mission in life, as it turned out I never had to do a thing.  All of the sudden the lights came on and they announced that everyone had to get out of the theatre, apparently the fire dept and the police were there, the place was oversold, everyone was smoking weed and they were shutting it down.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In the confusion of the mass exodus the group was disjointed, I ended up side by side with Joanne and her friend Stephanie.  We made it thru the crowd to the street and started looking for the rest of the crew.  I asked her where she was from, "Ohio" well Pennsylvania really but I live in Ohio now".  "I just finished nursing school",  I kept asking her questions rapid fire as fast as I could, I wanted to find out where she was staying how long she was staying for but was interrupted by Steve and the others showing up. Their plan was to go get some beer and go back to their apartment,  out of nowhere Joanne looked right at me and said "what do you want to do Jim?" From that moment I loved when she said my name. I blurted out that I had just turned 21 and I wanted to go to a bar, some of Steve's friends weren't 21 yet and so they were insisting we go party at their pad.  Joanne said and I almost fell over. "I want to go to a bar, with Jim" "Right Steph, you said you wanted to go out, not in, right?".  Stephanie agreed with a resounding "If I wanted to go to an apartment party I would have stayed in Cleveland".  Off we went with the crew of guys standing mouths agape. We went to Angelo and Vince's, a cool Italian place right on Harbor, we drank wine and talked until the place closed, they drove me back to the apartments, the three of us in the front seat in her Dodge Dart, me in the middle. I still remember how soft her lips were when she gave me that first little kiss goodnight (with Stephanie sitting inches away). I got the phone number of where they were staying and called her the next morning, we went to the beach the that day, and the next, and everyday after until she left to go home, back to Ohio. It was the most fun I had ever had in my life and I wanted more.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The chase was on.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have thanked Stephanie a million times for making that decision over the years, last weekend as a matter of fact on the phone.  She and Joanne were best friends to the bitter end, she still lives in Ohio but we speak often.  She stayed at my house for the entire three weeks that Joanne was home under Hospice care, she rubbed my shoulders while I cried and kissed my wife goodbye for the last time. (she reminded me that she had been there for the first kiss too) We laughed for a brief moment and tried to fight through the tears but they just kept coming.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am convinced that all things happen for a reason, although I seldom know the reason at the time.  I forget this over and over,  but all I need to do is take a look at my life, and its all the evidence I need. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7329975346112885220-2569876347717996720?l=jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/feeds/2569876347717996720/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7329975346112885220&amp;postID=2569876347717996720' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/2569876347717996720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/2569876347717996720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/2008/09/how-do-you-do-i-see-youve-met-my.html' title='How do you do, I see you&apos;ve met my, Faithful handyman!'/><author><name>JIMSIGHT</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06342495591130676434</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SMh1bgmyVQI/AAAAAAAAABU/udEIFjiiKXE/S220/Photo+249.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7329975346112885220.post-1550978771980807886</id><published>2008-09-12T14:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-12T16:57:30.862-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ti Amo and Menopause the Musical</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SMrn4zQOG6I/AAAAAAAAAB0/fPilUx1rQy8/s1600-h/fancy+nancy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5245259679043296162" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SMrn4zQOG6I/AAAAAAAAAB0/fPilUx1rQy8/s320/fancy+nancy.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; One of my friends from the Pub that I play pool at told me one night about a Fancy Nancy book series, yes by this point all of my friends referred to her as "Fancy",  I would get a call "Jim we are going to the angel game on Saturday are you in or are you doing something with "Fancy"?" or "How are things with you and Fancy going"  any way I googled it and trust the laugh is certainly worth the effort. &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;                                                                                                                                           Despite everything that had transpired to this point,  I was still having fun and that seemed paramount at this point, but I still really didn't have a clue of what it was that I was trying to accomplish with this whole dating thing.  Was I running to something or was I running from something?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love live theatre Broadway to Community, started when I was in 5&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; grade.  I was in a summer theatre group (Debbie Glover was joining so I did too), after a few days in I was hooked, ended up by the end of summer I was going to be in the High School Production of Oliver....not a principal just one of the orphans and also a member of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Faigan's&lt;/span&gt; gang  but still quite the coup for a soon to be 6&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; grader, and of course Debbie Glover became my first 6&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; grade sweetheart.  She had fabulous hair. Wait a minute here boy did I jump the tracks or what....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So I get all the updates from all the local theatres, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Laguna&lt;/span&gt; Beach Playhouse being one, I received the notice that they were doing a production of Menopause the Musical...if you get a chance go see it.  Funny as hell....especially with an audience full of hot flashers.  I got some tickets and called Fancy who by the way was one year my senior.  She thought it sounded exciting and that date was set.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Normally I would have made dinner reservations somewhere around downtown &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Laguna&lt;/span&gt; but for some reason I decided to make reservations at Ti &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Amo&lt;/span&gt; (have the lamb &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;oso&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;bucco&lt;/span&gt;), I hadn't been for a while as with everything else...my daughter loves Ti &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Amo&lt;/span&gt;, especially the Parmesan bowl that the Cesar comes in.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Honest to god, it was 108 in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Yorba&lt;/span&gt; Linda when I arrived at her house, this time I brought Roses and the arrangement was spectacular and they were in a vase so she was at a total loss as to what she should do next...she just gave me a big hug and a kiss and said thank you.  I never mentioned that her dog used to get so excited &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;evey&lt;/span&gt; time I came over, her name was Lilly and she was really very cute, I am a sucker for a dog.  Fancy turned to me and asked me if I would take Lilly out to "make" while she went to the restroom.  "make"? who says that...well it was a term I heard numerous times in the weeks to come...come on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;lil&lt;/span&gt; lets go make. (snap out of it &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;jim&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Off we went streaking towards the coast, I watched the external temperature fall...95..90..85, yes by the time we hit South &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;Laguna&lt;/span&gt; it was a mere 82 degrees...nice...We were seated at my favorite table...well its more of a booth really but you get the breeze from the ocean and and can see out the window...ordered myself some Chianti and FANCY even changed it up and had pomegranate martini...whooohooo...things were changing.  It was a nice relaxing meal the food is always yummy there, NANCY was sad that she was to full to have dessert, I told her I had that taken care of already, its a surprise.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We got to the theatre minutes before show time, but of course I have my secret parking spot, its the building adjacent to the playhouse, you have to pay a bit but zip its covered and you walk through an entry and right into the terrace area of the playhouse.  The show was a total riot, FANCY was yelping and squeezing my arm and the rest of the audience was howling along I called them the Perry Menopausal Choir,  the show only has four characters and the whole thing takes place in Bloomingdale's it is really cute.  All the songs are baby boomer tunes with parody lyrics...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;During intermission I got us some water while FANCY went to the ladies room,  I got hit on, in a not so casual manner while waiting in line...really....had I had one foot in reality at that moment I would have taken the ladies number.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The show was over and I stop in the restroom and call The Ritz, order a souffle tell them I will be there in twenty minutes.(half chocolate, half &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;granmarnie&lt;/span&gt;).  We get to the car and start heading up &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;PCH&lt;/span&gt; and I asked her if she was ready for dessert, her resounding yes made my plan seem like a real winner.  We got to the Ritz, went in sat down and pop the souffle was on the table, now how smooth is that...I had a port and Fancy had a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;cosmo&lt;/span&gt;..go figure...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Regrettable things happen, I know that, I am after all a 52 year old man who has made his fair share of mistakes, has taken responsibility for them paid whatever the consequences were tried to learn my lesson and move on.  I think I have done that but this was one of those times.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We got back to Fancy's house and she invited me in for "COFFEE" while the coffee was brewing we played some more of that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;kissy&lt;/span&gt; face thing and more and more and well.....she asked if I would like to go in the bedroom, I accepted the invitation.  The funny thing was we went to her guest room, never did get an explanation on that, never asked though...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am not going to laud the details here but this was the first woman I had been with other than my wife in forever and a day.  It was very surreal and basically one of those crazy out of body experiences that you really only have few of in a lifetime.  Long story short, I spent the night.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well I awoke unsure if I had set the trap, fallen into the trap, if there was a trap at all, ...can I get a just get a cup of coffee and get the heck out of here, I think I need a shower and a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;brillo&lt;/span&gt; pad. I feel very confused, shouldn't I be doing some sort of a victory lap or a man dance or something...I am gong to be sick I think...wait a minute, calm down.  Nobody killed anyone here, right? We are both adults twice over right? I shouldn't have to convince myself of anything right? This is all just good fun, right nobody is asking for any commitment are they?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I went to my car in the morning dressed in her son's high school gym trunks and t-shirt.  He is 26 and live in S.D. (just in case you thought he was home or something).  And my trunk wouldn't open.  That's odd...I got in the car and it wouldn't start...oh damn the valet at the Ritz must have turned on the lights without the timer.....my battery is dead....Crap....its like over 100 degrees already and I have a dead battery in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;Yorba&lt;/span&gt; Linda.  I go back in the house and ask FANCY if she can pull her car out of the garage so I can jump mine, guess what her car is in the Shop...she was getting her windshield replaced.  I called AAA it was Sunday and it ended up taking them an hour and a half to get there. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;More and more tragic, funny, something...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SMrfp7is-EI/AAAAAAAAABs/rw5tAU5VbgM/s1600-h/fancy+nancy.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SMrfp7is-EI/AAAAAAAAABs/rw5tAU5VbgM/s1600-h/fancy+nancy.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SMrfp7is-EI/AAAAAAAAABs/rw5tAU5VbgM/s1600-h/fancy+nancy.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7329975346112885220-1550978771980807886?l=jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/feeds/1550978771980807886/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7329975346112885220&amp;postID=1550978771980807886' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/1550978771980807886'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/1550978771980807886'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/2008/09/ti-amo-and-menopause-musical_12.html' title='Ti Amo and Menopause the Musical'/><author><name>JIMSIGHT</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06342495591130676434</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SMh1bgmyVQI/AAAAAAAAABU/udEIFjiiKXE/S220/Photo+249.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SMrn4zQOG6I/AAAAAAAAAB0/fPilUx1rQy8/s72-c/fancy+nancy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7329975346112885220.post-4207614663189002907</id><published>2008-09-11T14:28:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-12T11:54:29.749-07:00</updated><title type='text'>IN A NEW YORK STATE OF MIND aka the Cocktail Party</title><content type='html'>Don't really feel like doing this today, but have a conference call going right now and I am BORED, these people just rehash the same questions month after month.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We gotta get out of this place!&lt;br /&gt;If it's the last thing we ever do ...&lt;br /&gt;We gotta get out of this place,&lt;br /&gt;'cause girl, there's a better life ... for me and you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Ok&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, not that much time but I promised that I would get back to "FANCY".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fancy invited me to attend a "Cocktail Party", ugh! It would be a chance for her friends to meet me, double ugh! Plus it was in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Rancho&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; Santa Margarita of all places. I once had a shirt made that said on the back&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;INLAND&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;DON'T&lt;/span&gt; GET IT&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I still don't and thought about it &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;every time&lt;/span&gt; I drove to the "Fancy" household. It would be 78 in good ole &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;HB&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; and I would drive to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Yorba&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; Linda to pick Fancy up and by the time I arrived, easy 100 and this day was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;noooo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; different.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Of course I arrived a few minutes early, I called though &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;wasn't&lt;/span&gt; going to do that make myself wait in the car thing, it was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;melty&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; hot out. Had the air conditioner pointing at the flowers during the drive up so as not to have them wilt on me. She did the same crazy ritual with them, I swear on my first of many dead hamsters grave that it took a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;minimum of&lt;/span&gt; one full eternity this time. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Why can't I just turn and walk out the door, oh yeah that't right, I am a widower of a couple years whose wife was very ill for a very long time and that currently has no clue in Gods name as to what he is doing. He does know however that whatever it is that he is doing, he surely doesn't want to do it alone forever. There I said it, wasn't going to bring any of that into any of this dating thing and sorry for doing it, but not so much really; I was thinking Son of a Bitch these folks are going to think you are the biggest loser/pussy that ever walked the planet, well &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;undeniably&lt;/span&gt; I was very close to it, but at least this leaves me the wiggle of room of guilty with an explanation.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Drove down on the toll road, it's always amazing to see how much open area still remains in California. Our annual California Fire storms were still in full swing and much of the area had been burned out. Lots of Black Rolling Hills but no Rocky &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Raccoon&lt;/span&gt;. As we neared our exit you could see the smoke. I thought to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;myself&lt;/span&gt; &lt;strong&gt;Inland-I don't get it&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Much to my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;surprise&lt;/span&gt; the Cocktail Party was at a small condo, one of Fancy's friends boyfriends house. His garage turned wine cellar was bigger than the rest of the condo..interesting. He had some nice vintage &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Pinot's&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; and offered them up, best part of the night. None of the ladies had cocktail dresses on and no one was drinking cocktails.....oh with the exception of "Fancy" of course...cute little black cocktail dress and Cosmo in hand. I of course was way over dressed as well, hell I was specifically invited to a Cocktail &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;party&lt;/span&gt; in what I was under the impression would be the affluent part of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Rancho&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; Santa Margarita. Most of the guys jammed in with there shorts and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;Haywain&lt;/span&gt; prints. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Sheesh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; what a party.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Turns out that all of the women and a few of the men were all from New York and please don't get me wrong I love New York City, I mean I love to visit New York City. Stay at the Waldorf, shop, go to shows, Time Square, Little Italy to Lombardi's for Pizza, China Town and of course The Met...all that being said, when you are visiting &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;Manhattan&lt;/span&gt; do you ever notice a heavy NY accent, I don't. Maybe in Long &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;Island&lt;/span&gt;, Brooklyn, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;Staten&lt;/span&gt; Island, but not &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;Manhattan&lt;/span&gt;. Well with each tick of the clock the accents got thicker, the conversation became oblique at best, and out of the middle of it all was a familiar tone, I focused for a moment as that was all I could stand to, yes right in the center holding court over the New York Accent club was Fancy...in all her glory, black Cocktail Dress and Pearls...was she wearing those when I picked her up? Really? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;When all was said and done, I had done my part. Her friends &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;thought&lt;/span&gt; the well dressed stranger was very polite,  even a little dashing even. I should have worn an ascot that would of put me over the top for sure.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;The drive home was seemingly &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;never ending&lt;/span&gt;, Fancy recanted stories of her youth in Brooklyn, she talked of her first &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;marriage(did she just say first)&lt;/span&gt;, then about her brother that she hated, hey this is starting to get good...finally and then I almost drove off the toll road and killed us both when she said it, and she said it with all the earnestness at her command, she gathered herself and took my hand and said, "now Jim I have to tell you this to be fair to you". "I know what a battle you went &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;thru&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; taking care of your wife (Joanne was sick for 7 years with renal cell carcinoma), and well I have to tell you I have &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;FIBROMYALGIA"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I only had one experience with anyone claiming to have this undiagnosable disease, I used to say she had &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Fibromyasshurts&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; because all she did was sit around on it. If they prove it I will forever be sorry, but kick me in the nuts when they do cause I want to feel their pain. Did she really just try and compare that to ....no...deny deny deny...she is slightly drunk...I will give her the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29"&gt;benefit&lt;/span&gt; of the doubt, but can this really be her Disability, can they do that? How can an undiagnosable disease be connected to an undisclosed wrist ailment...my head hurts.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;God I wish this date was funnier....so sorry but thought it was going to be, it was just a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30"&gt;train wreck&lt;/span&gt;. I am a boy, I try to justify it all in my head, figure out what needs to be done to fix it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Promise, funny next time. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7329975346112885220-4207614663189002907?l=jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/feeds/4207614663189002907/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7329975346112885220&amp;postID=4207614663189002907' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/4207614663189002907'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/4207614663189002907'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/2008/09/in-new-york-state-of-mind-aka-cocktail.html' title='IN A NEW YORK STATE OF MIND aka the Cocktail Party'/><author><name>JIMSIGHT</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06342495591130676434</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SMh1bgmyVQI/AAAAAAAAABU/udEIFjiiKXE/S220/Photo+249.jpg'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7329975346112885220.post-4848868903316561993</id><published>2008-09-10T12:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-10T16:48:38.717-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"POOL BOY" (something a little current)</title><content type='html'>I most certainly plan to continue on with the annals of my dating history but for the moment I needed to come up for a breath of fresh air. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Hmmm&lt;/span&gt;, that fit quite nicely being that "a breath of fresh air" seems to be exactly at least the moment what I have found.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I recently succumbed to the pressure of my peers and went online to cast my lot, oh &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;lordy&lt;/span&gt; me, that sounded so depressing, however nothing is either good or bad, we are just prisoners of our thoughts. Well of course I am paraphrasing but you get the idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I had been doing this for a little over a month or so, went on a business trip and had pneumonia during that time span so no real earnest involved in the chase.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently however met someone I would certainly describe as at the very least a breath of fresh air. We e-mailed, instant messaged, I asked for her number, she obliged. That is how its done apparently. I called her, we chatted for an hour or so, brisk fluid conversation. No nimrod this lass and that is for certain, she was witty, charming, topical and very well spoken.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next time I talked to her she made mention that I must be in the witness protection program because nothing came up when she googled me. Oh the times they are a changing. Of course I googled her back after hearing this , a little more thoroughly than she anticipated apparently.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found something linking her to a blog, and guess what? The blog was a very keen insight into middle age dating from a woman's perspective. Her writing style is very John Irving like in that she is witty and sensible yet she maintains a fabulous eye for the absurd. I registered and got a blogger ID so that I could comment on it, using a Shakespearean quote as my tell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next time we spoke I told her of my find and she was (or at least seemed to be) very amused that I had made this discovery. She actually even suggested that I write a counterpoint to her blog, and poof I am here. She assured me if we were to ever actually go out she would not write about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I read her entire blog, everything, every last word of it that night. Very Very Funny...if you click on Love American Style under Some Beautiful Minds on my blog you can find out for yourself. I called her the next day and asked if she would meet me for a drink or dinner. She accepted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She blogged about it the next day, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;ahahahahha&lt;/span&gt; dubbing me as "Pool Boy". I howled while reading it, and of course she even said hello to me towards the end, ,I howled again. She lorded on and on how the discovery was nothing short of a nightmare for her, at the same time making it seem as though Copernicus was in the house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were supposed to meet last weekend, but she had some plans she had forgotten and we decided to reschedule. I called her on Monday and we talked for 3 hours. I believe We have now firmed up our plans to meet and are set on a collision course for Saturday Night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have no expectations, other than I am sure this will be SUPER FUN. Que Sera Sera...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Pool Boy" Indeed!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rest assured that come tomorrow we are back to "Fancy Nancy"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7329975346112885220-4848868903316561993?l=jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/feeds/4848868903316561993/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7329975346112885220&amp;postID=4848868903316561993' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/4848868903316561993'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/4848868903316561993'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/2008/09/pool-boy-something-little-current.html' title='&quot;POOL BOY&quot; (something a little current)'/><author><name>JIMSIGHT</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06342495591130676434</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SMh1bgmyVQI/AAAAAAAAABU/udEIFjiiKXE/S220/Photo+249.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7329975346112885220.post-8771591999306948582</id><published>2008-09-09T15:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-10T09:25:24.548-07:00</updated><title type='text'>COME ON-A MY HOUSE, the Two Date Collage</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Just so we are on the same page, all of this took place in 2007. We are trying to get current as fast as possible.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come on-a My House" is a song by &lt;a title="Rosemary Clooney" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rosemary_Clooney"&gt;Rosemary &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Clooney&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; from her album Come On-A My House, released on &lt;a title="June 6" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/June_6"&gt;June 6&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a title="1951 in music" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1951_in_music"&gt;1951&lt;/a&gt;. The song was written by &lt;a title="Ross Bagdasarian, Sr." href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ross_Bagdasarian,_Sr."&gt;Ross &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Bagdasarian&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a title="William Saroyan" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Saroyan"&gt;William Saroyan&lt;/a&gt; in summer of &lt;a title="1939" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1939"&gt;1939&lt;/a&gt; but did not become a hit until it's release by &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Clooney&lt;/span&gt;. It was probably Saroyan's only effort at popular songwriting, and it was one of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Bagdasarian's&lt;/span&gt; few well-known works that was not connected to his most famous creation, &lt;a title="Alvin and the Chipmunks" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alvin_and_the_Chipmunks"&gt;Alvin and the Chipmunks&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;A Day at the Beach (Fancy comes to Jim's House)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So "Fancy" came to my house and we cruised down to the sand. Just a few comments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a. She refused to ride bikes "It's to far"( huh it's like two miles)&lt;br /&gt;b. Her bathing suit was some type of animal print (just why, that's all?)&lt;br /&gt;c. "Don't splash you will get may hair wet" (and?)&lt;br /&gt;d. During lunch at Avila's El &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Ranchito&lt;/span&gt; "This salsa is hot" (you didn't just say that)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Dinner at "Fancy Nancy" House( a midweek extravaganza)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I drive over straight from my office, its only 10 minutes away. How &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;convenient&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a. I stop and pick up Cold Stone Ice Cream for desert. (never show up &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;empty&lt;/span&gt; handed.)&lt;br /&gt;b. She has a pitcher of Cosmo's waiting (did i turn gay and no one told me)&lt;br /&gt;c. I end up grilling the steaks (probably a good thing, more shall be &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;revealed&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;d. We discuss the TV shows she watches during dinner (I barely watch &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;tv&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; so this is actually somewhat interesting to me)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to say something RIGHT here RIGHT now, "Fancy" was telling me about a show where they build people houses, well the family that had the house built for them that week were infected with HIV, a couple had full blown AIDS...the whole family for gods sake, how unbelieveably sad is that. I believe she said there were 9 people in the family. I was in a state of horror....when with a completly straight face she said and I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;quote&lt;/span&gt;..."they were so lucky, you should have seen how nice the house" "I wish someone would build me a house like that" NOW why I didn't get up and walk out the door right then I do not know, in retrospect I am &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;sooooo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;embarrassed&lt;/span&gt; that I didn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had our ice cream, played a little &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;kissy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; face and I went home...this time I was questioning my myself, but I was still feeling a little machismo all at the same time...a bit confusing to say the least, but as noted, I have not dated in a long long time....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next Date Ti &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Amo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Laguna&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; Beach Playhouse...Menopause the Musical...nice...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7329975346112885220-8771591999306948582?l=jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/feeds/8771591999306948582/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7329975346112885220&amp;postID=8771591999306948582' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/8771591999306948582'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/8771591999306948582'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/2008/09/come-on-my-house-two-date-collage.html' title='COME ON-A MY HOUSE, the Two Date Collage'/><author><name>JIMSIGHT</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06342495591130676434</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SMh1bgmyVQI/AAAAAAAAABU/udEIFjiiKXE/S220/Photo+249.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7329975346112885220.post-857178283271276834</id><published>2008-09-09T10:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-10T09:24:03.423-07:00</updated><title type='text'>DATE 3: The Concert and OH those Lesbians</title><content type='html'>I am going to pick her up at her house this time, that makes it a real date for sure, very excited but still wondering why I can't remember what this lady looks like, very strange indeed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deliberated whether or not to pack a picnic for a few days, it is after all at the Hollywood Bowl but decided on a restaurant near her house, mainly for convenience (my own) and the fact that during our brunch date she seemed to be quite the finicky diner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stopped and picked up some flowers (never show up empty handed). No not roses, never roses the first time, or the second for that matter. A nice &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;summery&lt;/span&gt; bouquet, filled with color, I have an excellent florist by the way should you be in need. I arrived in front of her house early, what a shocker that damn "aunt &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;jim&lt;/span&gt;" thing. So I sat and waited until I could ring her bell &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;precisely&lt;/span&gt; at 5:00.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to say I was once again surprised how nice she looked, when you can't remember I guess it's always a surprise. She was very appreciative of the flowers and gave me a little peck on the cheek, I figured that she would plop them in a vase and we would be off..WRONG...she proceeded to prune and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;arrange&lt;/span&gt; and rearrange and prune, after 10 minutes or so I wanted to scream "knock it off &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;already&lt;/span&gt;" but I stood silent and eventually she was satisfied with her efforts and we were off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I picked a little place only a few minutes away from her house called "The Wild Artichoke", I highly &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;recommend&lt;/span&gt; it if you are ever stuck in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Yorba&lt;/span&gt; Linda. She had never been there which seemed peculiar, its not like they have and array of fine dining in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Yorba&lt;/span&gt; Linda.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dinner was filled with lively &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;conversation&lt;/span&gt; about her week, I didn't mention that she doesn't work did I? She is on disability for some sort of wrist thing (she was a bit evasive). She was/is a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;paralegal&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Anyway&lt;/span&gt; I heard all about her hair and nail appointments, endless stories about shopping and lunches with her girl friends. I finally &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;interrupted&lt;/span&gt; her with a "so are you familiar with Diana &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;Krall&lt;/span&gt;?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Off we went, I got an amazingly good parking spot at the Bowl. I always do, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;shhhh&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;it's&lt;/span&gt; a secret but if you are willing to pay a little you can park at the VFW right next to the entrance. No waiting in or out. SWEET.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a perfectly gorgeous night, we &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;leisurely&lt;/span&gt; strolled to our box. "Wow I never sat this close here before", oh good I like when people show appreciation and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;excitement&lt;/span&gt;. The Philharmonic was just walking out, I love the shows that are on the regular Bowl schedule because I love the orchestra....sue me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few minutes in, our box mates arrived. (If you are not familiar with the bowl, if you only get two box seats you share a small box with strangers, also the chairs are quite uncomfortable unless you rent a pad. I brought pads with me, cause I am a planner.) Well our seats were the back pair in the box so there was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;shuffling&lt;/span&gt; and moving to allow our &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;box mates&lt;/span&gt; ample room to plop down in there &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;uncomfy&lt;/span&gt; overpriced beach chairs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At first I thought, they don't look like they would hang out together, one was petite and attractive, had a cute little sun dress on, the other had jeans and a chain wallet and her hair was cropped and oh dear lord, yes they do hang togther...ahahahahahahaha...I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;chuckled&lt;/span&gt; at how &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;ridiculous&lt;/span&gt; my mind is sometimes. I have no problem with Lesbians, Gay Men, People of Color, anyone really, well maybe stinky bikers, well stinky anybody really. It just struck me funny as to what my first thought had been.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well the "Fancy" one leaned over and whispered in my ear. "Oh my god, they are lesbians aren't they" as if we were sitting with A&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;lkida&lt;/span&gt; or worse yet Democrats...things started to get interesting when the for lack of a better word "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;Butchy&lt;/span&gt;" one started catching a bit of a wine buzz. She started doing that really cool whistle, the one where you put your thumb and index finger in the corners of your mouth and its so loud it seems as if it could shatter glass, yeah that one...damn I wish i could do that. Well everytime she did it the cute one would lightly slap her on the knee or shoulder and tell her to stop and then "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;Butchy&lt;/span&gt;" would grab her and kiss her and tell her no. Causing the "Fancy" one to lean over and make a comment in my ear like for example "That is just sick", I wasn't quite sure if she was talking about the drunkenness the whistling or the Lesbian kissing and I wasn't going to either agree or ask her, I was finding the whole thing WAY to ENTERTAINING. I wish it had been going on while the Orchestra had played &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;because&lt;/span&gt; I certain that it would have seemed like a scene from Fantasia, the three ladies and the man in the box dance...always the same..."&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;Butchy&lt;/span&gt;" "Lipstick" "Fancy" "Butchy" "Lipstick" "Fancy" &lt;strong&gt;ALLEGRO please ladies, ALLEGRO...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Diana &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;Krall&lt;/span&gt; was amazing, she has such a distinctive voice and can really turn the standards if you know what I mean. Knows how to tinkle those keys too...did you know she is married to Elvis Costello? I did, "Fancy" didn't but I bet you would have guessed that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Concert was overall a rousing success with "Fancy" as well (with the exception of those Lesbians). Later she told me how open minded she is, that it was the behaviour that bothered her but me thinks not. "She doth protest to loudly"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They were working on the 5 on the way home so we got to spend an extra hour chatting about the concert and her kids, my kid, starting to actually get under the surface level a little. Well a lot if you count the Lesbian thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She invited me in for coffee, her house was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"&gt;immaculate&lt;/span&gt;. I kept looking for something dirty, anything dusty, even the water in the dogs bowl (&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29"&gt;shitsu&lt;/span&gt; of course) was clean...&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30"&gt;hmmmm&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Went to give her a hug goodnight after she walked me to the door and she planted one smack on the mouth. Oh so that's what that feels like, I kissed her back gently, she kissed me again. This is kind of nice, like riding a bike thank god. One more little peck and a thank you I had a great time and out the door I went.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32"&gt;WHOOHOOO&lt;/span&gt;....YOU DID IT JIM was the first thought I had when I closed the car door. I have no idea why I thought that, or what it was I thought I DID, but that was my thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's next the Beach/Ti Amo/The Theatre well all that and more very soon....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7329975346112885220-857178283271276834?l=jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/feeds/857178283271276834/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7329975346112885220&amp;postID=857178283271276834' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/857178283271276834'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/857178283271276834'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/2008/09/date-3-concert-and-oh-those-lesbians.html' title='DATE 3: The Concert and OH those Lesbians'/><author><name>JIMSIGHT</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06342495591130676434</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SMh1bgmyVQI/AAAAAAAAABU/udEIFjiiKXE/S220/Photo+249.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7329975346112885220.post-4953793777769452225</id><published>2008-09-08T14:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-08T15:42:47.091-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"FANCY NANCY" or Jim's first dates in Forever</title><content type='html'>They are called SET UP's for a reason.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had not been on a date in a blue moon, eon, coons age...and or any other number of allegorical terms realting to the measure of time.  The reason being is explained somewhere in the world, and of that I am sure,  this however is neither the time nor the place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Date One: Group situation, meeting and greeting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Took off work early, showered up, shaved twice (a bizzare habit I picked up when thinking romance was in the air, certainly not needed in this case but I am a boy), changed a couple of times, inspected my car, my shoes and of course my hair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HB Pier or bust, the meeting/date was set for Chimayo (used to be below Dukes at the HB pier).  I of course was early, "Aunt Jim" as some of my friends refer to me, is always early...waited around for a while. The gal that "ARRANGED" the date finally showed up with her friend so we ordered a cocktail.  Shortly afterwards the lady soon to be known as "FANCY NANCY" made her entrance. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Low and behold she was better looking than the picture I had seen.  The conversation while a tad canned was nice. We learned a lttle about each other for a while and then the kids left (my friend that did the setup was 25, she used to work for me)  and we were on our own. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked her if she would like to go for a stroll,  she agreed faster than my minature dachshund does,  we headed down mainstreet...While crossing I took her hand, it actually felt nice and she did not object..I had not held hands in a long time.  This human contact thing is kind of nice, hmmm.  As we talked without the music and chatter of the Bar I detected a touch of a Brooklyn accent.  I ignored it, no sense spoiling the evening over something so contrite. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We strolled around downtown HB, I bought her a piece of chocolate at Rocky Mountain and we had coffee at Starbucks.  We walked back and the valet got our respective cars...I asked her for her phone number and bingo, SUCCESS.  &lt;strong&gt;I was king of the hill, top of the heap, A number one..&lt;/strong&gt;...LAUGHED to myself the whole drive home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Date Two:  Jazz it up&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While discussing music on date one "Fancy Nancy" told me she like listening to The Wave...I do like Jazz myself not neccesarily the watered down version that the wave plays to many of but hey...I am nothing if not a good sport.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made reservations for the Wave Sunday Brunch at Spaghetinni and picked up the phone...jesus do I really have to call her? How does this work? Oh dear, I am clueless wait...remember what Dickie Bird told you...(my grandfather preferred to be called Dickie Bird) ,  always call when you say you will, never show up early without calling, never show up late. never show up empty handed, open doors, pull out chairs, either offer an arm or hold her hand when crossing the street or going up or down stairs...god I feel like crying I miss that man sooooooo much.  I suddenly felt like hey I can do this....revitalized by my visit from the grave I was now consumed with the spirit of the little street car that could.  It was a very comforting feeling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was very jazzed, so to speak to get the call and the date for Sunday was on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She lived in Yorba Linda and it was the first real date so we agreed to meet at the restaurant.  We arrived almost simotaneously, she looked better than the first time, I think she did...funny thing though in between dates unless I looked at her picture I couldn't remember what she looked like...now I have a great memory..I mean really great memory so this was odd.  Won't bore you with all the details, the burnch is actually very good and the music was nice, they have a great house band so you don't have to listen to what the DJ is spinning on the WAVE...( i hear that bad commercial everytime i say that ...94.7 the WAVE.)  We stayed for quite a while moving into the Bar after we ate, we went out on the patio when the band was done and then a drive down to Seal Beach in my convertable, I had my other car for the first date so she was impressed, gotta show off right......More walking hand holding, this time cookie eating and espresso...we were escalating the relationship......oh I forgot to mention that I had taken the liberty of puchasing  a couple nice tickets at the Hollywood Bowl for Diana Krall...just in case things went well...(planning is one of my talents).  When we got back to the cars I pulled the tickets out and asked her if she would like to go with me...and she made this yelping noise..was that a Brooklyn thing agian cause this could be the start of the end...not that I am picky or anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't believe I mentioned that even in my hay day, I was never much of a serial dater...always prefered to concentrat on one woman at a time and really see if anything developed or if I could get something to develop...it was always a very thin line in that respect when I was younger,  we boys lie to ourselves sometimes no matter what our intentions are...so that kinda of makes it like the truth right? We just honestly don't know what we are doing sometimes..Guilty with an explanation so to speak...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will wrap it up for now....should be able to get thru this in a couple three more posts...just wanted to set the tone...it starts to get interesting fast and the unveiling of "Fancy Nancy" is yet to come...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Date 3: The Concert and oh those Lesbians..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7329975346112885220-4953793777769452225?l=jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/feeds/4953793777769452225/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7329975346112885220&amp;postID=4953793777769452225' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/4953793777769452225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/4953793777769452225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/2008/09/fancy-nancy-or-jims-first-dates-in.html' title='&quot;FANCY NANCY&quot; or Jim&apos;s first dates in Forever'/><author><name>JIMSIGHT</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06342495591130676434</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SMh1bgmyVQI/AAAAAAAAABU/udEIFjiiKXE/S220/Photo+249.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7329975346112885220.post-2390216133555508666</id><published>2008-09-05T14:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-10T09:21:51.444-07:00</updated><title type='text'>SPECIES COUNTERPOINT</title><content type='html'>Bollocks you ask? see below...the multiplicity is facinating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Bollocks" is a word of &lt;a title="Old English language" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Old_English_language"&gt;Anglo Saxon&lt;/a&gt; origin, meaning "&lt;a title="Testicle" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Testicle"&gt;testicles&lt;/a&gt;". The word is often used figuratively in &lt;a title="English language" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/English_language"&gt;English&lt;/a&gt;, as a noun to mean "nonsense", an expletive following a minor accident or misfortune, or an adjective to mean "poor quality" or "useless". Similarly, the common phrases "Bollocks to that!" or "That's a load of old bollocks" express a distaste for a certain task, subject or opinion. Conversely, the word also figures in idiomatic phrases such as "the dog's bollocks" and "top bollock", which express the opposite, namely admiration, pleasure or approval.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A very new friend suggested that pehaps I write a counterpoint to her views, comments and experiencs with the middle-age dating thing. Being that I am fortunate enough to have crossed over fools hill, I no longer view suggestions as a direct insult to my interlligence, masuclinity, social and or economic status and thus decided to take her up on it. (see bullocks for that).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, with that being said would I REALLY REALLY be doing this if the &lt;strong&gt;she&lt;/strong&gt; involved were not &lt;strong&gt;witty&lt;/strong&gt;, &lt;strong&gt;charming and attractive&lt;/strong&gt;. &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;DUH NO&lt;/strong&gt; of course not&lt;/em&gt;, I am afterall a boy and well.....boys are like that... we just are...so that will be the common thread, why we do what we do and how come YOU don't get it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Episode One&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"FANCY NANCY" or Jims first dates in forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will explain and disclose everything, but not this second....I have to collect my thoughts review my memories and most importantly, beat the traffic.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7329975346112885220-2390216133555508666?l=jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/feeds/2390216133555508666/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7329975346112885220&amp;postID=2390216133555508666' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/2390216133555508666'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7329975346112885220/posts/default/2390216133555508666'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jimsight-nevermindthebollocks.blogspot.com/2008/09/species-counterpoint.html' title='SPECIES COUNTERPOINT'/><author><name>JIMSIGHT</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06342495591130676434</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wcpwIlymSgk/SMh1bgmyVQI/AAAAAAAAABU/udEIFjiiKXE/S220/Photo+249.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
