Home, Toto, Home

No, we’re not in Kansas… that’s where them damn westerners live, unlike the decent, civilized folks here in The Wilds of Ohio.

i’ve not lived alone since university… and can you really call that living “alone” when i was in a dormitory the entire time with friends living mere feet away and all meals provided by a full time staff.  Okay, yeah, there was a short period after school and before getting married to The Spouse… but that was almost like an extension of living at college.

… and here i am, days away from living alone. 

Yep, an offer I made on a condo was accepted.  Accepted with provisos, but accepted nonetheless.  If the Lord is willing and the creek don’t rise, I will be closing on Friday.  And will be moving in next week.

When I went to the house inspection to make sure the place was habitable, the place was already vacated by the owner.  Without all of the furniture there, the blemishes and dings not seen on previous walkthroughs were glaringly obvious.  But, luckily, no issues which would prevent the contract from going forward.  One of the biggies found was that the installed microwave was on its last legs, with the top of the inside noticeably melted and blackened.  Hmmm…. hold that thought, dear reader.

While leaving at end of the inspection, I noticed a couple of my new neighbors and went over to introduce myself.  Friendly folks who seemed very pleased that I was moving in. She continued – – –

Lady Neighbor:  “We’re so glad you’re moving in.  This is a quiet neighborhood with great neighbors.  And it will be nice to have you here.  The lady who owned the home before you was… ummm… unique.”

GnuKid (feeling a bit nervous as he has been accused of being ‘unique’ as well):  “Unique?  How so?”

Lady Neighbor (a bit sheepishly):  “Well, you’ll forgive me.  I was a school teacher and they always taught us to use non-confrontational words… like unique… to describe people who…. okay, okay… we called her ‘Crazy Mary’!”

Ah-ha!  The microwave explained!

I demurred from asking further, probing questions because, though I may be unique, I don’t consider myself ‘crazy’. 

Right, gentle readers?  Right?  Ummm… Hello?  I said I wasn’t ‘Crazy’… that was your cue to nod vigorously and agree with me.  Hello?

Anyway, I’m about to enter this venture with little experience in interior decorating… and not too much common sense in that area either.  Color coordination and I don’t get along well.  Neither do I get along well with choosing and matching furniture styles (though with the expected budget i’ll have, “Nouveau Lawn Chair” may be a recurring theme throughout).  I’ve always considered myself “Eclectic”, so this will be an adventure in Eclecticism. 

So, wish me luck and here are some pictures I took of the empty place during the house inspection…

The Great Room

Yeah, I will need to repaint

The Study (Col Mustard w/ the lead pipe)

Second Bedroom (for kidlet visits...or you?)

My Bedroom

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Yet More Masquerage

Had some requests for more pictures from last weekend’s Masquerage.  These are some of the better ones from other folks’ cameras – – –

pretty tucked

hanging pretty

party time

boys will play

last songDK and me

Black and White

As promised, i’ve pictures of my costume and face paint from Masquerage 2008.  I’ve also included another couple pictures just for fun.  My very fun date, DK, is also included.  As the evening wore on, the makeup wore off.  But, with enough libation, we didn’t give a rat’s ass.

he/she was taller than me

i look like a demented Joker

      

random people, random colors

          

l.e.d.s in the hair

 

a studded banana hammock?

 

big bird on drugs?

More?

Masquerage 2008

I spent a most bizarre, yet superb, evening Saturday at an event called Masquerage.  A benefit held each year to raise awareness of and funds to cure AIDS.  This year’s theme was “Outer Space Sci Fi”.

As the title suggests, it is a masquerade.  Masks of some sort are expected.  Either masks to wear or masks painted on the face.  A Dear Friend went two years ago, did do the dress up with a mask painted on her face.  She warned me that the ticket takers get militant if you’re not wearing a mask.  So, I fretted some,  But, my ‘date’ for the evening was a good theater friend, DK, who suggested complementary outfits for us to wear in line with this year’s theme, complete with face paint.  No, I’m not thinking I’ll put that picture up… yet.

I was warned about the evening being a bit bizarre, but I still wasn’t fully prepared.  There were strange and wonderful costumes… Beautiful masks… and great entertainment.

party animals

Given the nature of Masquerage, there were quite a few cross dressers in attendance.  Friend DK would

yep, chest hair

gleefully point out who was and wasn’t a man.  I found myself unsure, quite a few times, if she was telling the truth. The most difficult to discern were those men who had mastered “Hide the Willy”… or, in their own vernacular, the “Cock Tuck”.  There were some men who were wearing very tight hot pants… and I could not see a hint of their boy bits showing.  No, sorry, I couldn’t bring myself to point my camera at their crotch for proof.

well hid willies

Porsche her...umm himself

A favorite entertainer for the evening was Porsche who had a lovely soprano voice and belted out just about any song you could thing of (including a version of Rosemary Clooney’s “C’mon-a My House” sung in Japanese!).  I got the biggest kick when she would be singing her soprano songs, then stop in the middle and, in a rich, deep baritone, say, “Yes, I AM a man… why?”

Friend DK got drunk as a skunk and happily so.  I hit back quite a few to begin the evening, but was designated driver, so stopped and just enjoyed the rest of the drunks.

some boys were too pretty

It was for a good cause… and, oh yeah, we got swag bags… those are gifts they give you for donating.  My

they are real... foam

swag bag had lots of coupons for hair styling (Nah!), a coupon for a facial (no, not *that* kind), a plastic beer glass with l.e.d. lights in the bottom, and, my favorite, a “Wet Sex Kit” with some lubricant and a condom!  Can’t wait to try out that one!

If I’m in town next year, yeah, I think I’ll go again… for the great show, on and off stage, if not for another “Wet Sex Kit”!

Procrastination

My evil genius Procrastination has whispered me to tarry ‘til a more convenient season. — Mary Todd Lincoln

It’s been one of those weeks so I thought I’d… ah, hell… I’ll do this another time….

Pap-pap

Visiting my brother again.  Hoping for the best, fearing the worst as far as time left with him.  Other family members are also wandering in.  Was lucky this trip to share the visit with two cousins and a niece.  It was very heartening to see how happy it made my brother to have such company.

After a bit of libation (yeah.. yeah… take those feigned shocked looks off of your faces), we began to reminisce a bit.  Being the “oops” child, I was late on the scene compared to my brother and the two cousins.  As such, I listened with rapt pleasure at some of the stories.  A couple were about Pap-pap… my dad’s dad. 

Pap-pap was a farmer born and bred.  My cousins recounted some things he would say.  I’ve no clue if his homey phrases were his or stolen from his grandfather, but there were a couple doozies that were repeated with great glee. 

Now, not really being a farm boy myself, I’m struggling to understand the second two I’ll share here.  But the first?  Having a son of my own… heck, with Daughter Child as well… I truly understand this one:

–  Send a boy, get a boy.  Send two boys, get a half boy.  Send three boys, get no boy at all.

Yep… and having been (well… some say still am at heart) a boy, I do know this one.  Get a couple kids together on a job and they’re more interested in finding the toad or dipping feet in the stream or, when older, talking about girls. 

Again, the other two I’m struggling to understand.  Perhaps someone out there in the blogosphere can help me.  These two phrases were usually provided when Pap-pap wanted to watch the baseball game in peace or just wanted the youngsters out of the house.  He would stare the offending child or children in the eyes and say one of the following (I’ve actually seen both said one right after the other to a particularly annoying cousin):

–  What do you want to do?  Suck an egg?

_  Why don’t you get two sticks and go fight a hen turd?

[Big Grin]  That last one is my favorite.  I’m surely going to save that for my senior-er years to bamboozle and confuse the kids bothering me.

But, those last two also make me wonder if Pap-pap was attacked by a chicken when he was little… such angst against poultry….

There may have been more said, but, given the Scotch that was going down much too easily, was all I could remember. 

Next time?  A tape recorder…

Nonagenarian

… is the Word of the Week*.

As an adjective, it refers to being 90 years old (or, a bit confusingly to me, the dictionary says “90 to 99”). Like, maybe, “Say, I’ll try some of that nonagenarian Scotch!”

As a noun, it is a particular person who happens to be that age.  For example, “The nonagenarian in Ward 2 knocked up that redheaded nurse.”

I was gone all weekend to visit my aunt who was celebrating her 90th birthday… that’s Nine-Zero years.  Not as spry as I’d like to have seen her, she was nonetheless in fairly good health and feisty.  Had a great visit with cousins and cousin-lettes as well.  Seeing my aunt at 90 (with her two remaining siblings not too many years behind her), made me examine how much time is… or could be… left in my life.

I’ve sometimes joked that I’ll be living to at least 125. The key, of course, is actually “living” while I get to 125.  I don’t want to be that caricature of an old person who sits in a chair at the retirement home, quietly drooling while waiting impatiently for the end to come.

Nope… I want to be the George Burns type, living aggressively and out front right until the day the Grim Reaper comes for me.  I want to be one of those old folks you see in the commercials wearing their Depends while climbing the Matterhorn or diving the Marianna Trench or jeep riding the Outback.  I’ll be the crotchety, but lovable old codger who is accused of knocking up the cute nurse.  I’ll be the sneaky old bastard who organizes the rest of the retirement home residents to raid the kitchen at 3 am in the morning to eat all the ice cream and cookies.  I want to get outside every day to run, walk, bike (pedal power), bike (Harley Hog), and more. Yeah, great plans… but you have to have goals.

Here’s hoping all of you can one day proudly and happily bear the title of nonagenarian.

…and that’s your Word of the Week…

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*Yeah, i know i’ve been slacking off on doing my Word of the Week.  Once things settle [long laughter ending in breathless gasping], i’m going to try and get back to that.