Well, this is the Last ‘This Is A True Story’ of the year (you can cry now), but never fear, it will return with all new stories on January 4th, 2018. And, yes (this is true), I will try even harder to keep this a weekly blog (true).
This year has been a great one. That is the True Story for this week. It has been filled with what is called Guy Cry moments and my social calendar went from non-existence to actually having a social life!! Even dates, with real girls (they do exist)!
The biggest Guy Cry moment of the year was getting the all clear from my Doctors concerning the Brain Aneurysm (Cranial Blood Vessel Rapture). The exact word used was: GREAT.
I did try to keep to the weekly schedule for this blog that I have proclaimed for the last few years, and for long stretches I did. But, as it always seems to happen, I just didn’t kept up weekly. True story.
So, right now, as of Thursday 10/26 ‘This Is A true Story’ is going on a Holiday Hiatus, until 2018.
See yea in the New Year.
Ace.
Monday, October 23, 2017
Wednesday, October 4, 2017
This is a True Story: MINNIE DESERVES IT.
Have you ever pulled a fast one on someone so convincing they actually fall for it? When you didn’t even mean to pull anything at all?
Recently, I had a very humorous incident with my beloved mother – in which I said something on the spur of the moment . . .
This is a True Story I call MINNIE DESERVES IT.
My mother and I were at one of her friend’s house – watching things while she was out. I was at the fridge, raiding the soda, she was standing over at the breakfast nook looking at something.
I turned around as she held up a mouse trap. It was about the size of her hand, still wrapped in clear plastic, with a piece of cheese attacked to it. “She’s going to kill Minnie,” she cried. My kind-hearted mother was truly hurt by this thought.
That’s when I hit her up with this: “The little whore deserves it.” I just made this stuff up on the spur of the moment, but it was good and I apparently delivered it so seriously, “She’s married to Mickey, sleeping with Goofy and having Donald’s kid.”
The look of shock, awe mixed with belief was amazing. “Really?” My mother said with her mouth little a gasped, she believed every word I had just let fly.
I stuttered for a moment, unsure what to say. Her reaction was not one I expected, and it was genuine. “Uh, no, mom.” I must have had some look on my face. “They’re just cartoon characters.”
“I know that!” She said, still with the mouse trap in hand.
“Did you believe me?” I asked.
She never gave me a direct answer. “Well, how would I know? I don’t keep up with that stuff. I don’t know what they’re are doing on those shows. You do.”
Yes, seriously. I made a sarcastic, spur of the moment quip (a really good one), and for a split second my mother honestly believe it. She thought, just maybe, it was something being done in a story, not just me making crap up.
Gotta love her.
Though, to be honest, it would be cool if Disney did do something like that.
Ace.
Recently, I had a very humorous incident with my beloved mother – in which I said something on the spur of the moment . . .
This is a True Story I call MINNIE DESERVES IT.
My mother and I were at one of her friend’s house – watching things while she was out. I was at the fridge, raiding the soda, she was standing over at the breakfast nook looking at something.
I turned around as she held up a mouse trap. It was about the size of her hand, still wrapped in clear plastic, with a piece of cheese attacked to it. “She’s going to kill Minnie,” she cried. My kind-hearted mother was truly hurt by this thought.
That’s when I hit her up with this: “The little whore deserves it.” I just made this stuff up on the spur of the moment, but it was good and I apparently delivered it so seriously, “She’s married to Mickey, sleeping with Goofy and having Donald’s kid.”
The look of shock, awe mixed with belief was amazing. “Really?” My mother said with her mouth little a gasped, she believed every word I had just let fly.
I stuttered for a moment, unsure what to say. Her reaction was not one I expected, and it was genuine. “Uh, no, mom.” I must have had some look on my face. “They’re just cartoon characters.”
“I know that!” She said, still with the mouse trap in hand.
“Did you believe me?” I asked.
She never gave me a direct answer. “Well, how would I know? I don’t keep up with that stuff. I don’t know what they’re are doing on those shows. You do.”
Yes, seriously. I made a sarcastic, spur of the moment quip (a really good one), and for a split second my mother honestly believe it. She thought, just maybe, it was something being done in a story, not just me making crap up.
Gotta love her.
Though, to be honest, it would be cool if Disney did do something like that.
Ace.
Thursday, August 3, 2017
Yes! OH SHIT!
Okay, this True Story is short, silly and maybe even stupid. I don’t know on that last one. This would be your call, not mine.
This is a True Story I call Yes! OH SHIT!
You might want to be a serious collector (of anything) or just someone who has been searching for something for years to appreciate this story.
Correction – you might want to be someone who has found something you have been searching for, for years.
This is such a moment.
When it comes to books, comics and DVD I have a list of stuff I need for my collection. Often the books and comics I am looking for are very hard to come by. DVD’s are not so hard, but there are some that I want that are long out-of-print.
I found one of those long out-of-print DVD’s a few weeks ago at a Zia Records store. It was a used copy for $9.99, but that doesn’t matter. Even used, the same item goes on eBay for up to $150. It works, I can watch it, it’s in the collection finally – that is what matters.
I was in this Zia’s waiting on items I was trading in and looking around. This time, oddly enough, I really wasn’t looking for anything, just passing the time. That is usually how it happens.
I saw something out of the corner of my eye . . . could it be! My heart raced, my eyes bugled, I felt the excitement of a major find. I jet my arm out to snatch the disc from the shelf before the couple coming up from the other direction could possibly grab it . . .
And almost committed mass murder!
Yes, I almost killed (or at least injured) the people on the other side of the shelf. I grabbed out for the disc so quick and hard that I almost knocked the entire shelf over! The shelf rocked! I quickly grabbed the top of it and balanced it out.
Then, once it was steady and safe, I jetted around the corner of another shelf out of view.
Ace.
This is a True Story I call Yes! OH SHIT!
You might want to be a serious collector (of anything) or just someone who has been searching for something for years to appreciate this story.
Correction – you might want to be someone who has found something you have been searching for, for years.
This is such a moment.
When it comes to books, comics and DVD I have a list of stuff I need for my collection. Often the books and comics I am looking for are very hard to come by. DVD’s are not so hard, but there are some that I want that are long out-of-print.
I found one of those long out-of-print DVD’s a few weeks ago at a Zia Records store. It was a used copy for $9.99, but that doesn’t matter. Even used, the same item goes on eBay for up to $150. It works, I can watch it, it’s in the collection finally – that is what matters.
I was in this Zia’s waiting on items I was trading in and looking around. This time, oddly enough, I really wasn’t looking for anything, just passing the time. That is usually how it happens.
I saw something out of the corner of my eye . . . could it be! My heart raced, my eyes bugled, I felt the excitement of a major find. I jet my arm out to snatch the disc from the shelf before the couple coming up from the other direction could possibly grab it . . .
And almost committed mass murder!
Yes, I almost killed (or at least injured) the people on the other side of the shelf. I grabbed out for the disc so quick and hard that I almost knocked the entire shelf over! The shelf rocked! I quickly grabbed the top of it and balanced it out.
Then, once it was steady and safe, I jetted around the corner of another shelf out of view.
Ace.
WHOSE THE OLD FUCK?
Here we go with another True Story from San Diego Comic-Con. It is Convention Season after all.
This took place around 2006 or 2007, one of the last years I attended San Diego. It involves a complete idiot.
This is a True Tale I call WHOSE THE OLD FUCK?
It was the Marvel booth, and there was very long line for a particular person (guess who). I had already been through the line and was resting, sitting down on the ground against a pillar, staying out the way. This weird, grungy guy was walking around, trying to cut in the line and get a glimpse of who everyone was in line for.
He must have finally got a glimpse of the person, and didn’t seem impressed, or to recognize the gentleman doing the signing.
He said, to no one in particular, “Who’s the old fuck?”
I just sat there and watched the fireworks.
Someone in line answered, “Stan Lee!”
To which this man said, “Who’s that?”
Seriously, this guy was at San Diego Comic-Con, hanging around the Marvel Booth and had no idea who Stan Lee was.
Those fireworks I mentioned went off at this time. Some people in line where this guys was standing were pissed. They took great offense to “Who’s that?” There were choice words leveled at the guy, and he returned them in the same vein.
It was an insult he hurled at Stan Lee that took things to the next level and I thought people in line were going to kill him. Security was called and the situation calmed down.
I just sat there listening and watching through all of this.
I figured he was just a jerk there to bash on fans, and almost got bashed himself.
Ace.
This took place around 2006 or 2007, one of the last years I attended San Diego. It involves a complete idiot.
This is a True Tale I call WHOSE THE OLD FUCK?
It was the Marvel booth, and there was very long line for a particular person (guess who). I had already been through the line and was resting, sitting down on the ground against a pillar, staying out the way. This weird, grungy guy was walking around, trying to cut in the line and get a glimpse of who everyone was in line for.
He must have finally got a glimpse of the person, and didn’t seem impressed, or to recognize the gentleman doing the signing.
He said, to no one in particular, “Who’s the old fuck?”
I just sat there and watched the fireworks.
Someone in line answered, “Stan Lee!”
To which this man said, “Who’s that?”
Seriously, this guy was at San Diego Comic-Con, hanging around the Marvel Booth and had no idea who Stan Lee was.
Those fireworks I mentioned went off at this time. Some people in line where this guys was standing were pissed. They took great offense to “Who’s that?” There were choice words leveled at the guy, and he returned them in the same vein.
It was an insult he hurled at Stan Lee that took things to the next level and I thought people in line were going to kill him. Security was called and the situation calmed down.
I just sat there listening and watching through all of this.
I figured he was just a jerk there to bash on fans, and almost got bashed himself.
Ace.
KEYLESS/CLUELESS
Man, I just have to admit, I just can’t figure out what some people do. Things that children would know better than to do. I mean stuff that even mentally challenged people would know is not a good idea. Stuff that anybody with a brain would know is Stupid!
This is a True Tale I call KEYLESS/CLUELESS.
This story comes about because I have a number of people I know with the some outlook that I can’t understand.
A couple of years ago, a client asked me to house sit, and I planned on it. The house was nice, in a retirement community and he had lived there for over ten years. Both the front and back doors had heavy security doors for safety and added protection (or so one would think.)
The day before he left I went over to his house and we discussed things. He gave me the code to the garage door, so I could come and go that way. This got stupid when I asked him about keys to the house.
STUPID. Are you ready for this?
He told me I didn’t need any keys, he never locks the inside garage door. In fact, he told me, he doesn’t even have a key to that door’s lock.
Um . . . really?
The only key he had was to the front and back door – and then only the handles.
Ok, it gets stupider. Really.
He drilled home to me to only come in and out through the garage. Do NOT lock the inside garage door (to the house), Do NOT lock either security door and Do NOT lock the deadbolt on the regular front and back doors.
Why?
Yes! He didn’t have a key to any of those doors/deadbolts. (He still doesn’t)
THIS IS TRUE.
Recently I’ve ran into the same thing. Clients telling me not to lock certain doors (front, back, security, laundry room) because they don’t have keys to the door and would get locked out.
Yes, people I know have doors to their house unlocked because they don’t have keys to the locks!
Seriously.
Needless to say, I didn’t stay at the man house for the two weeks he was gone. I just checked it every couple of days.
Oh, and when he stiffed me on payment – claiming he thought this was a favor – I made sure every door in the house was locked.
Ace.
This is a True Tale I call KEYLESS/CLUELESS.
This story comes about because I have a number of people I know with the some outlook that I can’t understand.
A couple of years ago, a client asked me to house sit, and I planned on it. The house was nice, in a retirement community and he had lived there for over ten years. Both the front and back doors had heavy security doors for safety and added protection (or so one would think.)
The day before he left I went over to his house and we discussed things. He gave me the code to the garage door, so I could come and go that way. This got stupid when I asked him about keys to the house.
STUPID. Are you ready for this?
He told me I didn’t need any keys, he never locks the inside garage door. In fact, he told me, he doesn’t even have a key to that door’s lock.
Um . . . really?
The only key he had was to the front and back door – and then only the handles.
Ok, it gets stupider. Really.
He drilled home to me to only come in and out through the garage. Do NOT lock the inside garage door (to the house), Do NOT lock either security door and Do NOT lock the deadbolt on the regular front and back doors.
Why?
Yes! He didn’t have a key to any of those doors/deadbolts. (He still doesn’t)
THIS IS TRUE.
Recently I’ve ran into the same thing. Clients telling me not to lock certain doors (front, back, security, laundry room) because they don’t have keys to the door and would get locked out.
Yes, people I know have doors to their house unlocked because they don’t have keys to the locks!
Seriously.
Needless to say, I didn’t stay at the man house for the two weeks he was gone. I just checked it every couple of days.
Oh, and when he stiffed me on payment – claiming he thought this was a favor – I made sure every door in the house was locked.
Ace.
HI-FIVE AWAY
Recently, fellow WrestleMentary Crew Member Chris and I attended the NXT Brand event in Phoenix. We had a great time, and a moment that fits right into the whole point of this THIS IS A TRUE STORY blog. Yes, this is another True Story involving pro wrestling that I call HI-FIVE AWAY!
One of our fellow Crew was unable to make the show, but Chris and I had dinner then popped on over to the Theatre were NXT did their thing. On the way over, and at the venue, we ran into some people I know from local indie events, and even some of the Indie Wrestlers.
All in all a great night, but none of that is what Hi-FIVE AWAY is about. No. My favorite moment of the night came during the ring entrance of a wrestler known as No Way Jose. No Way Jose is a very athletic, charismatic, dancing fool, happy-go-lucky wrestler. With great catchy music that everyone signs to.
No disrespect to ‘Jose,’ but I’m not a fan. I’m not saying he isn’t good. I just don’t like the dancing, smiling, overly happy, treats everything as a joke gimmick. I’ve seen it to many times and it has worn thin.
His theme music hit, he danced his way to the ring for almost five minutes. Throngs of fan were moving, shaking, singing along “NO WAY JOSE, NO WAY JOSE,” everyone but . . .
ME. I moved and shook, yes I did, but I was chanting something else. After a few seconds, when Chris realized what I was chanting, he joined in. A couple of guys next to me even high-fived me in excitement.
One of them wore a NO WAY JOSE t-shirt.
It was a great, hilarious and energetic moment I must admit.
I never did tell the guy wearing the NO WAY JOSE t-shirt that I was dancing and chanting GO AWAY JOSE . . . GO AWAY JOSE . . . GO AWAY JOSE.
😂
Ace.
One of our fellow Crew was unable to make the show, but Chris and I had dinner then popped on over to the Theatre were NXT did their thing. On the way over, and at the venue, we ran into some people I know from local indie events, and even some of the Indie Wrestlers.
All in all a great night, but none of that is what Hi-FIVE AWAY is about. No. My favorite moment of the night came during the ring entrance of a wrestler known as No Way Jose. No Way Jose is a very athletic, charismatic, dancing fool, happy-go-lucky wrestler. With great catchy music that everyone signs to.
No disrespect to ‘Jose,’ but I’m not a fan. I’m not saying he isn’t good. I just don’t like the dancing, smiling, overly happy, treats everything as a joke gimmick. I’ve seen it to many times and it has worn thin.
His theme music hit, he danced his way to the ring for almost five minutes. Throngs of fan were moving, shaking, singing along “NO WAY JOSE, NO WAY JOSE,” everyone but . . .
ME. I moved and shook, yes I did, but I was chanting something else. After a few seconds, when Chris realized what I was chanting, he joined in. A couple of guys next to me even high-fived me in excitement.
One of them wore a NO WAY JOSE t-shirt.
It was a great, hilarious and energetic moment I must admit.
I never did tell the guy wearing the NO WAY JOSE t-shirt that I was dancing and chanting GO AWAY JOSE . . . GO AWAY JOSE . . . GO AWAY JOSE.
😂
Ace.
DUMB ASS
Ok, this story takes place sometime around 1994/1995. I remember this event and the few minutes quite clearly, and I know I was around 20 or 21 at the time because I was in college. Plus, at this time I was driving a Saturn (loved that car), and that was the only time in my life that I owned one.
This was late at night, around 10:00 P.M. or so one evening. I don’t remember what day, but I do remember – now that I am writing this – I was heading home from closing up the store I worked at in a Mall.
The only real details that matter here are those of the actual event. What year, day and even my age are not really relevant to this particular true store.
This is a True Story I call DUMB ASS – for the lack of a better name right now. Dumb Ass can refer to myself and/or the other guy in this tale.
I was heading home one night and it was fairly dark, with only my headlights and dull street lights to light the way. It had to be a week night, because the streets were fairly empty – which was a very good thing.
The drive from work to home was normally about twenty minutes, but with little traffic I was making excellent time, until I drove by my college campus and run into Dumb Ass!
From out of nowhere some guy came screaming down the road in his car behind me. I could hear the car before I saw it in my rear view mirror. There was no reason for the speed he was going, and no way he wasn’t going to slam into me.
I was in the curb, outside lane. I switched lanes to get out of this guy’s way. That is when this happened: Dumb Ass slowed down, came up beside me, honked his horn a number of times, laughed at me when I finally looked over and flicked me off. He then suddenly gunned it and barreled into my lane, cutting me off and almost crashing into the front of my car.
I slammed on my brakes, swerved into the left turn lane to avoid being hit and almost spun out. Fortunately no one else was on the road and I was able to control the car. I sat there, heart pounding, thoughts racing of everything that could have happen.
Then I did what any sane, rational person would do: I calmed down, let it go and went home.
AFTER I taught this bitch a lesson. I put the car in gear, slammed the gas and screeched off after his ass. I was pissed. Whomever this was thought it was fucking funny to try and run me off the road on purpose.
I was way above the speed limit when I caught up with him, lights be damned. I pulled up beside him for the briefest of seconds, then gunned it ahead a few car lengths, pulled over in front of him and hit my brakes.
This forced him to slow down and swerve into the other lane – almost spinning out himself.
I didn’t care and neither did he. We both did this a few more times, cutting each off as we raced down the road. This continued until we came to a major intersection and the light turned red as we came up to it. There were no cars around, and neither of us could stop in time.
I cut across in front of him, then slowed down and turned left the best I could. There was no way I could stop in time for the red.
Neither could he. He jammed his brakes on, and one of his back tires blew out!
After doing my illegal, through the red light left turn, I pulled off to the side of the road. I watched as smoke poured from his car, saw him skid through the intersection, and finally pull off into a strip mall parking lot.
Pieces of tire were flung across the street. Even parked, smoke still emanated from his car. I watched as he excited the car, popped the hood and a jet of smoke rose from the engine. Boy, was he pissed! He blew a gasket!
NOW I let it go and went home.
Yeah, I know in this situation I was just as bad and in the wrong as this guy. I shouldn’t have done it, but I did. I did mention that Dumb Ass could be applied to him and/or ME.
Ace.
This was late at night, around 10:00 P.M. or so one evening. I don’t remember what day, but I do remember – now that I am writing this – I was heading home from closing up the store I worked at in a Mall.
The only real details that matter here are those of the actual event. What year, day and even my age are not really relevant to this particular true store.
This is a True Story I call DUMB ASS – for the lack of a better name right now. Dumb Ass can refer to myself and/or the other guy in this tale.
I was heading home one night and it was fairly dark, with only my headlights and dull street lights to light the way. It had to be a week night, because the streets were fairly empty – which was a very good thing.
The drive from work to home was normally about twenty minutes, but with little traffic I was making excellent time, until I drove by my college campus and run into Dumb Ass!
From out of nowhere some guy came screaming down the road in his car behind me. I could hear the car before I saw it in my rear view mirror. There was no reason for the speed he was going, and no way he wasn’t going to slam into me.
I was in the curb, outside lane. I switched lanes to get out of this guy’s way. That is when this happened: Dumb Ass slowed down, came up beside me, honked his horn a number of times, laughed at me when I finally looked over and flicked me off. He then suddenly gunned it and barreled into my lane, cutting me off and almost crashing into the front of my car.
I slammed on my brakes, swerved into the left turn lane to avoid being hit and almost spun out. Fortunately no one else was on the road and I was able to control the car. I sat there, heart pounding, thoughts racing of everything that could have happen.
Then I did what any sane, rational person would do: I calmed down, let it go and went home.
AFTER I taught this bitch a lesson. I put the car in gear, slammed the gas and screeched off after his ass. I was pissed. Whomever this was thought it was fucking funny to try and run me off the road on purpose.
I was way above the speed limit when I caught up with him, lights be damned. I pulled up beside him for the briefest of seconds, then gunned it ahead a few car lengths, pulled over in front of him and hit my brakes.
This forced him to slow down and swerve into the other lane – almost spinning out himself.
I didn’t care and neither did he. We both did this a few more times, cutting each off as we raced down the road. This continued until we came to a major intersection and the light turned red as we came up to it. There were no cars around, and neither of us could stop in time.
I cut across in front of him, then slowed down and turned left the best I could. There was no way I could stop in time for the red.
Neither could he. He jammed his brakes on, and one of his back tires blew out!
After doing my illegal, through the red light left turn, I pulled off to the side of the road. I watched as smoke poured from his car, saw him skid through the intersection, and finally pull off into a strip mall parking lot.
Pieces of tire were flung across the street. Even parked, smoke still emanated from his car. I watched as he excited the car, popped the hood and a jet of smoke rose from the engine. Boy, was he pissed! He blew a gasket!
NOW I let it go and went home.
Yeah, I know in this situation I was just as bad and in the wrong as this guy. I shouldn’t have done it, but I did. I did mention that Dumb Ass could be applied to him and/or ME.
Ace.
A Brief on the State and Return of This Is A True Story . . . And an Awesome True Story!!
You Want a True Story . . . Truly?
Well, here it goes: This is A True Story is back! Or at least I am back to posting.
Another True Story, I have a number of stories written for the BLOG!
The Follow up to that, is I just haven’t posted. No reason way, just didn’t.
But here is the happy ending to this True Story, I am posting now and will be weekly again!
This week’s story should have went up a while ago, but here it is now. It’s about something close to my heart – Awesome.
Well, here it goes: This is A True Story is back! Or at least I am back to posting.
Another True Story, I have a number of stories written for the BLOG!
The Follow up to that, is I just haven’t posted. No reason way, just didn’t.
But here is the happy ending to this True Story, I am posting now and will be weekly again!
This week’s story should have went up a while ago, but here it is now. It’s about something close to my heart – Awesome.
This story is a True Tale, but not the normal story I tell here. Usually I write about feel good, weird, funny, outlandish or just stupid moments from my life. I’ve also written about my pets and at length about my aneurysm three-and-a-half-years ago.
This story could fit into all of them (except my pets), but it is more about an anniversary, partaking in one of my favorite things in life and just life.
This is a True Tale I call AWESOME.
Yes, January 29th, 2014 I collapsed due to an aneurysm, but I survived and am going strong today. This is thanks to the Doctors who performed the surgery and do my check-ups (Dr. Wilson and Dr. Suninshine), my mom, friends (Dave Parrish, Ken Brown, Ron Summers, Clay Stubblefield, Bobby Minch, Collen Lacy, Nikki Maxon, Dawn Nixon, Greg Bronson (RIP), etc.) and another source that people may find odd. People who don’t even know the impact they had on me.
I am a huge pro wrestling fan (yes, this again!). Not just the WWE, but all wrestling. Especially the AWF. Three years ago I went to my first AWF event in Peoria, AZ, at their original venue. This was only the second public event I had went to since being released from the hospital on Valentine’s Day (2014).
I was concerned about going to events after the aneurysm and my time in the hospital. My Mom more so, and I had orders from Doctors to take it easy. Still I went . . .
And in three years and-a-half-years I haven’t missed an event. My friend Chris Rose attended this first one with me, Dave started coming with the next event and has only missed one since.
That first night was a great live show. Sitting front row in a fold up chair, having the bad guys yell at me, wrestlers fall out of the ring at our feet – even having my chair used as a weapon! A wrestler even hit his head off the just too low ceiling when jumping off the top rope!
Over the last three years it’s become more than just a show. It became therapeutic for me as I recovered. Better, I’ve become friends with some of the guys and often become part of the Bad Guys ‘getting over.’
Then there is Jen – the owner’s wife and her Cool-as-anything BOSS daughter.
For the last three years the Arizona Wresting Federation has become a big part of my life and it was for the first year a big part of my recovery.
Or, as I like to call it: The AWESOME Wrestling Federation.
Ace.
This story could fit into all of them (except my pets), but it is more about an anniversary, partaking in one of my favorite things in life and just life.
This is a True Tale I call AWESOME.
Yes, January 29th, 2014 I collapsed due to an aneurysm, but I survived and am going strong today. This is thanks to the Doctors who performed the surgery and do my check-ups (Dr. Wilson and Dr. Suninshine), my mom, friends (Dave Parrish, Ken Brown, Ron Summers, Clay Stubblefield, Bobby Minch, Collen Lacy, Nikki Maxon, Dawn Nixon, Greg Bronson (RIP), etc.) and another source that people may find odd. People who don’t even know the impact they had on me.
I am a huge pro wrestling fan (yes, this again!). Not just the WWE, but all wrestling. Especially the AWF. Three years ago I went to my first AWF event in Peoria, AZ, at their original venue. This was only the second public event I had went to since being released from the hospital on Valentine’s Day (2014).
I was concerned about going to events after the aneurysm and my time in the hospital. My Mom more so, and I had orders from Doctors to take it easy. Still I went . . .
And in three years and-a-half-years I haven’t missed an event. My friend Chris Rose attended this first one with me, Dave started coming with the next event and has only missed one since.
That first night was a great live show. Sitting front row in a fold up chair, having the bad guys yell at me, wrestlers fall out of the ring at our feet – even having my chair used as a weapon! A wrestler even hit his head off the just too low ceiling when jumping off the top rope!
Over the last three years it’s become more than just a show. It became therapeutic for me as I recovered. Better, I’ve become friends with some of the guys and often become part of the Bad Guys ‘getting over.’
Then there is Jen – the owner’s wife and her Cool-as-anything BOSS daughter.
For the last three years the Arizona Wresting Federation has become a big part of my life and it was for the first year a big part of my recovery.
Or, as I like to call it: The AWESOME Wrestling Federation.
Ace.
Thursday, June 1, 2017
PAINTED SKIN
Hello All,
I’ve been quite on the blogs the last few weeks. I took a little break from writing and now I am back!
Staring with this All-New This is A True Story!
1998 was the first year I went to San Diego Comic Con (I had a great time). I’ve written about a few moments at different San Diego Shows, but have never written about this one – obviously.
This is a True San Diego Tale I call PAINTED SKIN.
This Tale barely involves me, and I don’t know the name of the woman – and never did – that it does directly involve. It took place in 1998 – my first year at San Diego. I was 24 and this young lady had to be around my age or younger.
I remember vividly this was Thursday, I arrived in San Diego and checked into a hotel that morning. I left all my stuff except for a bag I carried around with me, in my hotel room. This was my first time there and I wanted to look around before I started trying to talk to any publishers (I was trying to find writing work as well ).
There was a young girl I saw a few times, brunette, freaking gorgeous and apparently dressed like an anime character. Cosplay wasn’t really a big thing at the time – not like today – but people still dressed up as their favorite characters.
I had no idea who she was dressed like – and didn’t care really.
It was the second time I saw her, standing next to her at one of the booths that I had an ‘Oh Shit!’ moment.
She was wearing tight blue spandex pants, blue paint over her torso and upper body and a white strip of paint over her shoulders and down over her breasts and nipples.
YES! She was not wearing any clothing up top – only body paint.
WOW. I said Hi, she smiled and that was it. She was with a friend and they left the booth together.
I wondered how in the Hell they let her into the convention with just body paint over her upper body and breasts. To be honest though, I wasn’t complaining.
I went about on my way, spending too much money and have a good time finding lots of great stuff. It was hard not to notice her a few more times – she stood out the way she was dressed/not-dressed, and she seemed very shy as well.
Unfortunately, many guys weren’t as shy as I was when it came to girls. She eventually ran into a group of jackasses that started harassing her, that took how she was dressed too far. Yeah, some jerks thought this meant they could try and get laid.
She didn’t take this moment well, and these guys wouldn’t stop. Her friend tried her best to help, but these guys wouldn’t stop.
Fortunately a couple of the actual comic creators – and I and a few others – stepped in and put an end to it. I had worn a thin windbreaker jacket, but didn’t need it. I let her have it to cover up.
She and her friend immediately went toward the lobby and left. Being a nice guy, doing the right thing, I followed them out – I was truly concerned those jerks would follow them, but they didn’t.
As I wrote above, this story didn’t really involve me, but I was there. Maybe she took it a little far with only body paint, but she didn’t deserve the jerks. The only thing I couldn’t figure out was this – she didn’t seem to get that the way she was dressed (body paint) is what got her all the attention.
I never did get my windbreaker back. 😝
Ace.
I’ve been quite on the blogs the last few weeks. I took a little break from writing and now I am back!
Staring with this All-New This is A True Story!
1998 was the first year I went to San Diego Comic Con (I had a great time). I’ve written about a few moments at different San Diego Shows, but have never written about this one – obviously.
This is a True San Diego Tale I call PAINTED SKIN.
This Tale barely involves me, and I don’t know the name of the woman – and never did – that it does directly involve. It took place in 1998 – my first year at San Diego. I was 24 and this young lady had to be around my age or younger.
I remember vividly this was Thursday, I arrived in San Diego and checked into a hotel that morning. I left all my stuff except for a bag I carried around with me, in my hotel room. This was my first time there and I wanted to look around before I started trying to talk to any publishers (I was trying to find writing work as well ).
There was a young girl I saw a few times, brunette, freaking gorgeous and apparently dressed like an anime character. Cosplay wasn’t really a big thing at the time – not like today – but people still dressed up as their favorite characters.
I had no idea who she was dressed like – and didn’t care really.
It was the second time I saw her, standing next to her at one of the booths that I had an ‘Oh Shit!’ moment.
She was wearing tight blue spandex pants, blue paint over her torso and upper body and a white strip of paint over her shoulders and down over her breasts and nipples.
YES! She was not wearing any clothing up top – only body paint.
WOW. I said Hi, she smiled and that was it. She was with a friend and they left the booth together.
I wondered how in the Hell they let her into the convention with just body paint over her upper body and breasts. To be honest though, I wasn’t complaining.
I went about on my way, spending too much money and have a good time finding lots of great stuff. It was hard not to notice her a few more times – she stood out the way she was dressed/not-dressed, and she seemed very shy as well.
Unfortunately, many guys weren’t as shy as I was when it came to girls. She eventually ran into a group of jackasses that started harassing her, that took how she was dressed too far. Yeah, some jerks thought this meant they could try and get laid.
She didn’t take this moment well, and these guys wouldn’t stop. Her friend tried her best to help, but these guys wouldn’t stop.
Fortunately a couple of the actual comic creators – and I and a few others – stepped in and put an end to it. I had worn a thin windbreaker jacket, but didn’t need it. I let her have it to cover up.
She and her friend immediately went toward the lobby and left. Being a nice guy, doing the right thing, I followed them out – I was truly concerned those jerks would follow them, but they didn’t.
As I wrote above, this story didn’t really involve me, but I was there. Maybe she took it a little far with only body paint, but she didn’t deserve the jerks. The only thing I couldn’t figure out was this – she didn’t seem to get that the way she was dressed (body paint) is what got her all the attention.
I never did get my windbreaker back. 😝
Ace.
Sunday, April 30, 2017
Video Bonus: True Video of Max and Z!
This week there is no True Story.
This is a Short, grainy, but True Video of Max and Z!
This is a Short, grainy, but True Video of Max and Z!
Thursday, April 20, 2017
MAX AND THE LADY AND Z
She has numerous nicknames: Z, Z-Dog, Z to the E, Zo, ZoZo. Weirdly enough she answers to all of them, but her actual name is Zoie. Zoie is the Australian Queensland Shepard that my mother and I found abounded and we kept.
She is the same Zoie that found me collapsed in the yard and got my mom the night my aneurysm burst.
I’ve wrote about that before, and how we found her.
This tale takes place well before my collapse, at a point when my dad was still alive. At the time the family consisted of: Mom, Dad, I, Lady, Max and Zoie. Six of us. Yes, I had Lady, Max and Zoie all at the same time for six years.
This tale takes place within the first year I had Zoie, when she was still in Puppy Stage.
This is a True Story I call MAX AND THE LADY AND Z.
This also takes place after the previous two MAX AND THE LADY tales – when Lady was no longer quite afraid of Max, but was protective of him.
Especially from Zoie. Yes, Zoie.
Zoie, the gentle, goofy always wanting to play little dog. Even today, she is gentle and wants nothing more than to play – at eight years old. During this time the little mischief maker never knew what to make of Max.
I don’t know if she ever realized (at first) Max was a living creature, she always seemed to treat him like a toy, or a rock.
While Lady would ignore Max and let him do his thing, Zoie used to pay him quite a bit of attention. She would often bounce around him, as if waiting to strike. She would sniff him, looking at him curiously. More than once she would whack him with her paw.
Yep, Zoie would walk up to a moving Max and hit him on the back with her paw. A few times she even flipped him over.
One time I was lifting weights in my backyard make-shift gym when I heard this large bark, followed by a growl. It was Lady. I rounded the corner to see Lady growling at Zoie, they were about ten feet apart.
Lady growled a little more, then let loose with a short, loud, series of barks.
Walking over, I saw the issue.
ZOIE HAD MAX IN HER MOUTH! She had picked Max up and was holding him in her mouth.
Zoie dropped Max right on the brick patio and trotted off the like nothing happened. I came over and put Max right side up. Lady come over, licked Max on his shell and sat down.
This wasn’t the only time this happen. I caught Zoie ‘playing’ with Max a few times. Once she even picked him up and tossed him across the yard, as if trying to crack him open. Any time Lady saw this, she put Zoie in her place with a bark and growl.
And don’t tell me Zoie didn’t know she was doing wrong. Any time she was caught, she would stop, put her head down and mope.
Ace.
She is the same Zoie that found me collapsed in the yard and got my mom the night my aneurysm burst.
I’ve wrote about that before, and how we found her.
This tale takes place well before my collapse, at a point when my dad was still alive. At the time the family consisted of: Mom, Dad, I, Lady, Max and Zoie. Six of us. Yes, I had Lady, Max and Zoie all at the same time for six years.
This tale takes place within the first year I had Zoie, when she was still in Puppy Stage.
This is a True Story I call MAX AND THE LADY AND Z.
This also takes place after the previous two MAX AND THE LADY tales – when Lady was no longer quite afraid of Max, but was protective of him.
Especially from Zoie. Yes, Zoie.
Zoie, the gentle, goofy always wanting to play little dog. Even today, she is gentle and wants nothing more than to play – at eight years old. During this time the little mischief maker never knew what to make of Max.
I don’t know if she ever realized (at first) Max was a living creature, she always seemed to treat him like a toy, or a rock.
While Lady would ignore Max and let him do his thing, Zoie used to pay him quite a bit of attention. She would often bounce around him, as if waiting to strike. She would sniff him, looking at him curiously. More than once she would whack him with her paw.
Yep, Zoie would walk up to a moving Max and hit him on the back with her paw. A few times she even flipped him over.
One time I was lifting weights in my backyard make-shift gym when I heard this large bark, followed by a growl. It was Lady. I rounded the corner to see Lady growling at Zoie, they were about ten feet apart.
Lady growled a little more, then let loose with a short, loud, series of barks.
Walking over, I saw the issue.
ZOIE HAD MAX IN HER MOUTH! She had picked Max up and was holding him in her mouth.
Zoie dropped Max right on the brick patio and trotted off the like nothing happened. I came over and put Max right side up. Lady come over, licked Max on his shell and sat down.
This wasn’t the only time this happen. I caught Zoie ‘playing’ with Max a few times. Once she even picked him up and tossed him across the yard, as if trying to crack him open. Any time Lady saw this, she put Zoie in her place with a bark and growl.
And don’t tell me Zoie didn’t know she was doing wrong. Any time she was caught, she would stop, put her head down and mope.
Ace.
Max and the Lady Part 2
As I wrote last story, Lady – the Pitbull – was afraid of Max – The Turtle – after Max snapped at her when she tried to eat his dinner one day.
She was afraid of the little guy for quite some time. Eventually she started to go near him again, but rarely close enough to sniff like at one time. I’m sure she remembered him snapping at her, and in her mind it was probably for no good reason.
Well, one day years later I witnessed one of the most unbelievable and beautiful things I have ever seen.
It can be amazing to discover something new – and scary.
This was something I had never thought of until I saw it one day: A Bird tried to pick up Max. Yes, a bird tried to pick up Max and fly off with him. This happened more than once. For food I guess, never thought about it before the first time.
One morning, very early, around one or two AM, Lady started to bark. She often barked when she needed to go outside to do her business. This wasn’t just one loud bark – it was continuous and she sounded upset. I got up, checked on her and put the lights on out back.
I saw birds in the yard and that was it.
I let Lady out and she bolted straight for the birds, scattering and running them out of the yard. I had no idea what was going on. I ran over and found Max on his back, trying desperately to turn over. Lady nudged him with her nose, and his feet just waved about in the air.
I watched as she put her entire snout under him and flipped him over onto his feet. He stayed there for a second, got his bearings on the rocks, then slowly walked off.
Lady? She let out a massive sigh, plopped to the ground and watched him walk off with what looked like a giant grin.
Lady had seen Max on his back, with the birds pecking at him. She barked her head off to be let out, then went to his rescue.
Friends again.
Ace.
She was afraid of the little guy for quite some time. Eventually she started to go near him again, but rarely close enough to sniff like at one time. I’m sure she remembered him snapping at her, and in her mind it was probably for no good reason.
Well, one day years later I witnessed one of the most unbelievable and beautiful things I have ever seen.
This is a True Story I call Max and the Lady Part 2
It can be amazing to discover something new – and scary.
This was something I had never thought of until I saw it one day: A Bird tried to pick up Max. Yes, a bird tried to pick up Max and fly off with him. This happened more than once. For food I guess, never thought about it before the first time.
One morning, very early, around one or two AM, Lady started to bark. She often barked when she needed to go outside to do her business. This wasn’t just one loud bark – it was continuous and she sounded upset. I got up, checked on her and put the lights on out back.
I saw birds in the yard and that was it.
I let Lady out and she bolted straight for the birds, scattering and running them out of the yard. I had no idea what was going on. I ran over and found Max on his back, trying desperately to turn over. Lady nudged him with her nose, and his feet just waved about in the air.
I watched as she put her entire snout under him and flipped him over onto his feet. He stayed there for a second, got his bearings on the rocks, then slowly walked off.
Lady? She let out a massive sigh, plopped to the ground and watched him walk off with what looked like a giant grin.
Friends again.
Ace.
Friday, April 7, 2017
MAX AND THE LADY – PART 1
I have written a few times about my late best friend, my Pitbull Lady.
I believe I have mentioned my little buddy Max, too. Max was a desert turtle whose name alternated between Max Power and Maximillion Shell (a play on the actor).
I had both of them at the same time. In fact I got Max from the same co-worker who gave me Lady as a puppy. I took them both home within weeks of each other.
For a brief time I had Max in a typical turtle glass enclosure, but I didn’t feel right about it. Eventually I let Max loose in the back yard, and that is where he lived for 9 years. I gave him water and food every day, and he had the full run of a very large back yard.
Max’s favorite food? Hamburger believe it or not. Ground hamburger. He loved it.
This is a True Story I call Max and the Lady Part 1.
He loved Hamburger. So did Lady.
Around the time of this tale Lady was around ten weeks old. A puppy, but still much larger than Max. Lady would sniff him out and check him out at times, but generally left him alone. Then one day, this happened . . .
I found Max in the back yard and brought him up onto the patio to feed him. I put him down gently and laid a nice sized piece of hamburger in front of him. He took a few seconds to look around, extended his neck out, than chomped down on dinner.
Lady trotted over, sniffed Max, then the hamburger. Lady nudge the hamburger with her nose and . . .
Yes, the tiny turtle snapped at the Pitbull trying to take his dinner. He barely missed taking a chunk out her poor nose.
Lady let out a piercing shriek and ran behind a patio chair and hid. SERIOUSLY!
For a long time after that poor Lady was afraid of Max and wouldn’t go near him.
An attempt to ‘make things better’ backfired the day I held Max up, and let Lady sniff him from behind. I had hoped if she would come up this close, then she wouldn’t be afraid of him any more . . .
But then he peed on her.
Ace.
I had both of them at the same time. In fact I got Max from the same co-worker who gave me Lady as a puppy. I took them both home within weeks of each other.
For a brief time I had Max in a typical turtle glass enclosure, but I didn’t feel right about it. Eventually I let Max loose in the back yard, and that is where he lived for 9 years. I gave him water and food every day, and he had the full run of a very large back yard.
This is a True Story I call Max and the Lady Part 1.
He loved Hamburger. So did Lady.
Around the time of this tale Lady was around ten weeks old. A puppy, but still much larger than Max. Lady would sniff him out and check him out at times, but generally left him alone. Then one day, this happened . . .
I found Max in the back yard and brought him up onto the patio to feed him. I put him down gently and laid a nice sized piece of hamburger in front of him. He took a few seconds to look around, extended his neck out, than chomped down on dinner.
Lady trotted over, sniffed Max, then the hamburger. Lady nudge the hamburger with her nose and . . .
MAX SNAPPED AT HER!
Yes, the tiny turtle snapped at the Pitbull trying to take his dinner. He barely missed taking a chunk out her poor nose.
Lady let out a piercing shriek and ran behind a patio chair and hid. SERIOUSLY!
For a long time after that poor Lady was afraid of Max and wouldn’t go near him.
An attempt to ‘make things better’ backfired the day I held Max up, and let Lady sniff him from behind. I had hoped if she would come up this close, then she wouldn’t be afraid of him any more . . .
But then he peed on her.
Ace.
Friday, March 31, 2017
BUT I MADE IT FOR YOU. NO YOU DIDN’T!
There are things I hate. Yes, I know Hate is a strong word.
One thing I hate: When people won’t take no for an answer. You know, the kind of people who will continue to try and force or talk a person into doing something they don’t want to, but the other person does.
Another thing I hate is when someone LIES to try and get one to do what they want. And even turns the table to try and make the person feel guilty for not doing it.
Most people will end up just doing what the person wants to appease them or shut them up. I don’t. I don’t let it slide either.
This is a true tale of a former client who tried to make me eat a dish I didn’t want to and don’t like – and lied to try and make me feel guilty for not eating it, and trying to force me to eat it.
This is a True Store I Call: BUT I MADE IT FOR YOU. NO YOU DIDN’T!
My mother and I had a client once that would often try to get me to try things, or give me things I didn’t want. She wouldn’t take NO for an answer. She was a nice person, but it got annoying.
One day, we were working for her and I overheard her telling my mom about a party she was holding that night, and how she specially made her “famous” Bean Casserole (or something like that) for the party. (Yes, she actually did refer to her Bean Casserole as famous).
A little later, she called me into the kitchen and had me sit down and served me a piece of her Bean Casserole. I declined, I wasn’t hungry I said. She insisted. I said no thank you.
She continued to insist and was getting pissy. I finally told her I don’t like beans – and I don’t. I hate them.
So, what did the bitch do? She fucking lied to my face and tried to guilt me into eating the stuff. She told me that she made the Bean Casserole specifically for me. Yes, she made it for me as a surprise. All of a sudden, she turned nasty. The party was out of the window, and she now said she made this dish strictly for me, and she felt so bad that I wouldn’t even taste it.
I finally had enough. I don’t let people get away with trying to push or guilt me. My response, “I thought you made this for your party?”
After this she never talked to me again. In fact, we stopped working for her a little later.
– Ace
One thing I hate: When people won’t take no for an answer. You know, the kind of people who will continue to try and force or talk a person into doing something they don’t want to, but the other person does.
Another thing I hate is when someone LIES to try and get one to do what they want. And even turns the table to try and make the person feel guilty for not doing it.
Most people will end up just doing what the person wants to appease them or shut them up. I don’t. I don’t let it slide either.
This is a true tale of a former client who tried to make me eat a dish I didn’t want to and don’t like – and lied to try and make me feel guilty for not eating it, and trying to force me to eat it.
This is a True Store I Call: BUT I MADE IT FOR YOU. NO YOU DIDN’T!
My mother and I had a client once that would often try to get me to try things, or give me things I didn’t want. She wouldn’t take NO for an answer. She was a nice person, but it got annoying.
One day, we were working for her and I overheard her telling my mom about a party she was holding that night, and how she specially made her “famous” Bean Casserole (or something like that) for the party. (Yes, she actually did refer to her Bean Casserole as famous).
A little later, she called me into the kitchen and had me sit down and served me a piece of her Bean Casserole. I declined, I wasn’t hungry I said. She insisted. I said no thank you.
She continued to insist and was getting pissy. I finally told her I don’t like beans – and I don’t. I hate them.
So, what did the bitch do? She fucking lied to my face and tried to guilt me into eating the stuff. She told me that she made the Bean Casserole specifically for me. Yes, she made it for me as a surprise. All of a sudden, she turned nasty. The party was out of the window, and she now said she made this dish strictly for me, and she felt so bad that I wouldn’t even taste it.
I finally had enough. I don’t let people get away with trying to push or guilt me. My response, “I thought you made this for your party?”
After this she never talked to me again. In fact, we stopped working for her a little later.
– Ace
Monday, March 20, 2017
WAVE WAVE WAVE . . .
Last Wednesday I changed my mind on the True Story I planned on posting that Thursday, and posted about something that happened that Wednesday. Well, I had planned to push the original story back to today (Thursday), then this happened last Thursday after I posted DON’T LOOK.
Whatever happened I’m still confused about. So is my mom. It happened when we were leaving a Wal-Mart parking lot (see Wal-Mart again!), and were stuck at a Red Light, in a Left Turn Lane for almost twenty-minutes.
This is a True Story I Call Wave, Wave, Wave . . .
There are two ways out of this Wal-Mart Parking lot. The southern exit pulls right out onto an intersection of the Main Road and the Freeway, and right into construction. We decided to go out the west exit, where the construction had just finished and the road would take us straight home.
No cars were at the lights, and I pulled up and stopped at the red light. First in line, first to turn. At this exit one can only turn left or right, there is no road on the other side, just a field. The arrows were red and traffic was flowing nice. A few cars pulled up, turning right. Cars lined up behind us.
We were still there waiting. And Waiting.
And Waiting.
I considered pulling over and turning right, since that lane was empty. The only problem there, is it would take us in the opposite direction. Mom decided to wait.
The light didn’t change. Some cars pulled out from behind us, turning right – eventually getting stuck in the road works. Others started honking their horns.
At me! The arrow was red, and I wasn’t pulling out into traffic. The only thing I could think of, is someone wanted me to pull up further, and trip that imaginary line people believe there is that will make the lights change. It doesn’t exist people.
Finally, this blue coup driven by a haggard looking old lady pulled out of line from behind us into the right turn lane. She didn’t turn, instead she stopped by us, and started mouthing off. She actually started waving. Waving?
Not waving hello.
She mouthed off and was waving at me to Pull Out. My mom rolled down her window slightly and I heard, “Fucking Pull Up. Go . . .” and more. According to this haggard lady, I was holding up traffic, not the red light.
Then the guy behind her laid on his horn for her to turn.
I would have turned right, but that lane filled up. No one else made any gestures or mouthed off though.
The light finally turned Green and we went home.
My mother shrugged it off, explaining that she felt the woman was waving for us to turn right. My GREAT mom is like that. Always look for a good things, in a bad.
I felt different though, damn bitch wanted me to pull out and turn left on a red light, with traffic on the road!
As I wrote above, whatever happened there (and whichever of us is right), the whole thing with the haggard lady was confusing.
– Ace
P.S. One thing, I don’t see how she could have been waving for me to turn right since she was in the right turn lane and I couldn’t turn with her there.
Whatever happened I’m still confused about. So is my mom. It happened when we were leaving a Wal-Mart parking lot (see Wal-Mart again!), and were stuck at a Red Light, in a Left Turn Lane for almost twenty-minutes.
This is a True Story I Call Wave, Wave, Wave . . .
There are two ways out of this Wal-Mart Parking lot. The southern exit pulls right out onto an intersection of the Main Road and the Freeway, and right into construction. We decided to go out the west exit, where the construction had just finished and the road would take us straight home.
No cars were at the lights, and I pulled up and stopped at the red light. First in line, first to turn. At this exit one can only turn left or right, there is no road on the other side, just a field. The arrows were red and traffic was flowing nice. A few cars pulled up, turning right. Cars lined up behind us.
We were still there waiting. And Waiting.
And Waiting.
I considered pulling over and turning right, since that lane was empty. The only problem there, is it would take us in the opposite direction. Mom decided to wait.
The light didn’t change. Some cars pulled out from behind us, turning right – eventually getting stuck in the road works. Others started honking their horns.
At me! The arrow was red, and I wasn’t pulling out into traffic. The only thing I could think of, is someone wanted me to pull up further, and trip that imaginary line people believe there is that will make the lights change. It doesn’t exist people.
Finally, this blue coup driven by a haggard looking old lady pulled out of line from behind us into the right turn lane. She didn’t turn, instead she stopped by us, and started mouthing off. She actually started waving. Waving?
Not waving hello.
She mouthed off and was waving at me to Pull Out. My mom rolled down her window slightly and I heard, “Fucking Pull Up. Go . . .” and more. According to this haggard lady, I was holding up traffic, not the red light.
Then the guy behind her laid on his horn for her to turn.
I would have turned right, but that lane filled up. No one else made any gestures or mouthed off though.
The light finally turned Green and we went home.
My mother shrugged it off, explaining that she felt the woman was waving for us to turn right. My GREAT mom is like that. Always look for a good things, in a bad.
I felt different though, damn bitch wanted me to pull out and turn left on a red light, with traffic on the road!
As I wrote above, whatever happened there (and whichever of us is right), the whole thing with the haggard lady was confusing.
– Ace
P.S. One thing, I don’t see how she could have been waving for me to turn right since she was in the right turn lane and I couldn’t turn with her there.
Thursday, March 16, 2017
DON'T LOOK!
This is not the story I had planned to post today, but this happened just yesterday. I still don’t know exactly what happened. Confused really. Whatever this was it went from me allowing a woman to go ahead of me when leaving a store, them me being a “fucking asshole.”
Yes, this is true. Yes, things like this do happen to me. Yes, I do have witnesses to some of these.
This is a True Store I call DON’T LOOK.
For this story I can’t change anyone’s name, because I don’t know the name.
Yesterday afternoon, around five PM, I went to my local Target to look for something. I didn’t find it, but since I had more errands to run, I decided to grab a coke. Since all I had was a coke, I used the new self-check and was one my way within two minutes.
As I stepped away from the self-check, a nice looking young lady came my way, heading toward the exit. I stopped, and let her go ahead of me. I recognized her as the person who had been at customer service when I walked in.
As she headed toward the door, she looked back and said, “Don’t look at my ass.”
WHAT?! I was taking a drink at the time and my eyes where nowhere near looking at her.
She left the store, and I was right after her. She headed down the same isle I was parked in. I really didn’t know what to think. Was she serious? Was this some odd come on?
She looked back again and said, “I said don’t look at my ass!”
She was serious. It felt like she was accusing me of something. I could have stepped to the side and went down another isle to my car, but that would be suspicious. Instead I figured out what I would say if she . . .
“Stop looking at my ass!”
I really don’t know what her problem was. “I would if you stopped looking to me,” I said as I continued on to my car.
It took her a few seconds to “get” what I said. As I got into my jeep, I heard a “Fucking Asshole,” yelled my way.
Ace.
Yes, this is true. Yes, things like this do happen to me. Yes, I do have witnesses to some of these.
This is a True Store I call DON’T LOOK.
For this story I can’t change anyone’s name, because I don’t know the name.
Yesterday afternoon, around five PM, I went to my local Target to look for something. I didn’t find it, but since I had more errands to run, I decided to grab a coke. Since all I had was a coke, I used the new self-check and was one my way within two minutes.
As I stepped away from the self-check, a nice looking young lady came my way, heading toward the exit. I stopped, and let her go ahead of me. I recognized her as the person who had been at customer service when I walked in.
As she headed toward the door, she looked back and said, “Don’t look at my ass.”
WHAT?! I was taking a drink at the time and my eyes where nowhere near looking at her.
She left the store, and I was right after her. She headed down the same isle I was parked in. I really didn’t know what to think. Was she serious? Was this some odd come on?
She looked back again and said, “I said don’t look at my ass!”
She was serious. It felt like she was accusing me of something. I could have stepped to the side and went down another isle to my car, but that would be suspicious. Instead I figured out what I would say if she . . .
“Stop looking at my ass!”
I really don’t know what her problem was. “I would if you stopped looking to me,” I said as I continued on to my car.
It took her a few seconds to “get” what I said. As I got into my jeep, I heard a “Fucking Asshole,” yelled my way.
Ace.
Thursday, March 9, 2017
OLD MAN LOGAN’S OLDEST FAN?
This is a True Story that just happened last week. In order to really understand it, one must be a comic book reader. Not just a fan (of say, just comic book movies), but actually read comic books. Specifically X-Men, New Mutants and X-Force.
Last Friday (March 3rd), I was driving home and drove past a theater – and thought it would be nice to see a movie. Then I suddenly remembered: Logan Opens today.
A second later I remembered something even better: I STILL HAD A FREE MOVIE PASS TO HARKINS THEATER!
Once home, I checked the movie times, took a nap, grabbed the pass and was Logan bound!
Seeing Logan is not what this story is about though, that will be a different blog (What I What I Review in next week). When I was in my back row corner seat, I saw a little old lady struggling to get up the stairs with her walker to find a seat.
One of the theater employees was helping her. Doing my good dead for the day, I went and offered my assistance. She didn’t want to use the handicap seat, to close to the screen for her. I helped her about half way up, until she found a seat she liked, on the edge of one of the back rows. A few seats in front of me.
She was very talkative in those few minutes – she is 82 years old and wore a . . . OLD MAN LOGAN t-shirt!
This is a True Story I call OLD MAN LOGAN’S OLDEST FAN?
This is true, I kid not. This little 82-year old lady wore an OLD MAN LOGAN shirt. It wasn’t just for show.
After the movie I decided to help her down the stairs – at least to make sure she made it down safely. She asked me an odd question: Did I know who Rictor was? (Movie Spoiler).
I answered that I did, and asked if she did.
Her response: “Of course, New Mutants and X-Force.”
I couldn’t believe this lady knew who Rictor was – the only child in Logan identified by name other than X-23/Laura.
If you read X-men comics, you’ll know Rictor and why I was surprised this lady knew him.
If you don’t read the comics, you won’t understand.
Ace.
Last Friday (March 3rd), I was driving home and drove past a theater – and thought it would be nice to see a movie. Then I suddenly remembered: Logan Opens today.
A second later I remembered something even better: I STILL HAD A FREE MOVIE PASS TO HARKINS THEATER!
Once home, I checked the movie times, took a nap, grabbed the pass and was Logan bound!
Seeing Logan is not what this story is about though, that will be a different blog (What I What I Review in next week). When I was in my back row corner seat, I saw a little old lady struggling to get up the stairs with her walker to find a seat.
One of the theater employees was helping her. Doing my good dead for the day, I went and offered my assistance. She didn’t want to use the handicap seat, to close to the screen for her. I helped her about half way up, until she found a seat she liked, on the edge of one of the back rows. A few seats in front of me.
She was very talkative in those few minutes – she is 82 years old and wore a . . . OLD MAN LOGAN t-shirt!
This is a True Story I call OLD MAN LOGAN’S OLDEST FAN?
This is true, I kid not. This little 82-year old lady wore an OLD MAN LOGAN shirt. It wasn’t just for show.
After the movie I decided to help her down the stairs – at least to make sure she made it down safely. She asked me an odd question: Did I know who Rictor was? (Movie Spoiler).
I answered that I did, and asked if she did.
Her response: “Of course, New Mutants and X-Force.”
I couldn’t believe this lady knew who Rictor was – the only child in Logan identified by name other than X-23/Laura.
If you read X-men comics, you’ll know Rictor and why I was surprised this lady knew him.
If you don’t read the comics, you won’t understand.
Ace.
Thursday, March 2, 2017
WELL DONE
I have written about JAG a few times, an office where I used to work. JAG was a division of a larger mental health services company I once worked for in Phoenix, AZ. Before JAG I was a billing manager for the company out of their Goodyear, AZ office.
This office was out in the boonies, the fringes of the Metro Phoenix area. A small office of about 8 people total. Myself, the receptionist, a doctor, a college intern and therapists. My best friend at the time, Gil, worked IT for the company. Once or twice a week he would come out to our office, and the two of us always did lunch, or dinner after work.
One lunch, he took me down to a Mexican restaurant about a mile from the office for lunch. Turned out he had been eating at this place for a long time, before the Goodyear office even opened.
This is a True Story I call WELL DONE.
There wasn’t much on the menu that I liked, except for the Steak (I love Steak). I ordered the Steak and asked for it to be Well Done. BANG!!!
You would think I just – BANG!! – tried to rob the place. The server got pissed and started to mock me. Apparently having a steak well done is for pussies. She tried to convince me to have it medium rare, but I insisted.
Gil, joking, got in on the mocking. Needless to say, I wasn’t happy,
When are food came out, the cook came with it. This ass let it know he didn’t like Well Done.
The steak was actually good, but the experience was terrible. The only reason I stayed was because Gill drove and paid for lunch.
We haven’t even got to the good part yet of this story yet, as this wasn’t the only time I ate here. There were a couple of other times I got railroaded into this place, with the same experiences.
Then came the fateful day, an office dinner. Our entire office – eight or nine total, including Gil – went to dinner there. I wasn’t happy, but went along for office unity. As always, I ordered the steak, well done. I received the usual mocking – evening from my co-workers - but let it slide.
The next day only three of us showed up at the office. Everyone else was sick!
Guess what? I (we) found out that this restaurant already had a health violation against it, and had failed an inspection earlier that week. They were shut down for two weeks or so to make changes.
Can anyone say food poisoning?
The only reason I wasn’t puking my guts out was because I had my steak Well Done.
Almost everything at this place was undercooked – hence the food poisoning.
The place did reopen a little while later. I never returned. Gil I don’t believe went back. Some other co-workers did. At least one got sick again.
Then it happened again – BANG! – another health violation!
The restaurant eventually shut down, or was closed down depended on the source, because nothing was well done.
The thing I could never figure out is why my co-workers – who got food poisoning from this place more than once – actually missed the place.
Ace.
This office was out in the boonies, the fringes of the Metro Phoenix area. A small office of about 8 people total. Myself, the receptionist, a doctor, a college intern and therapists. My best friend at the time, Gil, worked IT for the company. Once or twice a week he would come out to our office, and the two of us always did lunch, or dinner after work.
One lunch, he took me down to a Mexican restaurant about a mile from the office for lunch. Turned out he had been eating at this place for a long time, before the Goodyear office even opened.
This is a True Story I call WELL DONE.
There wasn’t much on the menu that I liked, except for the Steak (I love Steak). I ordered the Steak and asked for it to be Well Done. BANG!!!
You would think I just – BANG!! – tried to rob the place. The server got pissed and started to mock me. Apparently having a steak well done is for pussies. She tried to convince me to have it medium rare, but I insisted.
Gil, joking, got in on the mocking. Needless to say, I wasn’t happy,
When are food came out, the cook came with it. This ass let it know he didn’t like Well Done.
The steak was actually good, but the experience was terrible. The only reason I stayed was because Gill drove and paid for lunch.
We haven’t even got to the good part yet of this story yet, as this wasn’t the only time I ate here. There were a couple of other times I got railroaded into this place, with the same experiences.
Then came the fateful day, an office dinner. Our entire office – eight or nine total, including Gil – went to dinner there. I wasn’t happy, but went along for office unity. As always, I ordered the steak, well done. I received the usual mocking – evening from my co-workers - but let it slide.
The next day only three of us showed up at the office. Everyone else was sick!
Guess what? I (we) found out that this restaurant already had a health violation against it, and had failed an inspection earlier that week. They were shut down for two weeks or so to make changes.
Can anyone say food poisoning?
The only reason I wasn’t puking my guts out was because I had my steak Well Done.
Almost everything at this place was undercooked – hence the food poisoning.
The place did reopen a little while later. I never returned. Gil I don’t believe went back. Some other co-workers did. At least one got sick again.
Then it happened again – BANG! – another health violation!
The restaurant eventually shut down, or was closed down depended on the source, because nothing was well done.
The thing I could never figure out is why my co-workers – who got food poisoning from this place more than once – actually missed the place.
Ace.
Thursday, February 23, 2017
1st Grade Pile Drive!
Oh boy. Is this a true story no one will believe. That is a statement, not a question. No one will believe this, I am sure of that. This DID happen.
I was 6. I was in 1st Grade. This happened in the classroom at James Bickley Elementary School.
It involved me, a 6-year old wanna-be greaser class mate of mine, a fight and a bitch of a teacher.
The year was 1981. I started going to James Bickley in the middle of the Kindergarten school year that January, after my dad was stationed at the local Air Force Base. I had been around long enough to make friends and know who the bullies were. Sometime the bullies in schools are called Teachers.
My first grade teacher was one of those. Another was a kid my age in my 1st grade class who always wore this tiny leather jacket, with his hair slicked back, looking like Stallone from Paradise Alley or Lords of Flatbush.
Slick was always pushing kids around, but I also remember he was a favorite of this bitch teacher. I don’t know why, because he was nothing but trouble. (Maybe that was the reason, he was the hard luck case, allowed to get away with stuff because he needed more attention than others. This is just a thought looking back, I know I didn’t think that at 6 years old).
He was always trying to push me around too. Problem was (still is, for better or worse), I pushed back. One day this broke out into a fight in class.
This lead us to the True Story I call 1ST GRADE PILEDRIVER
Yes, a fight broke out between me and Slick in the classroom. I remember what is was over to – He stole my Star Trek watch. He pulled it off my wrist as he walked by my desk going to his seat, after returning from the bathroom. He yank it so hard, my wrist jerked up and the strap’s pin that kept it in place broke.
I stood up, grabbed him to get my watch back and a shoving match broke out. The teacher told ME to give him the watch. It was my watch!
Then things got weird.
If we were going to fight – she was going to let us. REALLY!!
She had the entire class move their desks to the right, opening up an area to the left of the classroom. There was already a ‘play area’ with toys and books, for use during lunch and recess. She had Slick and I go to this area, and told us to get it out of our system while she went back to teaching the class.
SERIOUSLY. THIS HAPPENED. She urged us to fight.
We did.
At that time I was nowhere near the Pro Wrestling fan I would become, but I did watch it when my parents did, and I remembered some of the cool moves. So, guess what? I decided to do the smartest thing I could in a fight . . .
We were wrestling on the ground when I got to my feet and he was still on his knees, then I did it. Just like on TV. I put my legs around his head, lifted him up . . .
The Teacher screamed her head off at me . . . Too Late!
I spent the afternoon in the principal’s office, being punished. Of course my parents were called. I really had no idea what ‘suspension’ was I just knew I got out of school the next day. Slick was never called in to the principal’s office, and the principal’s never believed the story about the teacher.
Suspension or not I was at school the next morning, my mom brining me to school to confront the teacher and principal. Who else was there waiting outside our classroom? Slick and his grandmother whom he lived with. A little old Italian lady. A pissed little old Italian lady.
I thought there was going to be trouble. There wasn’t. She was here to talk to the teacher too. Slick didn’t tell her the entire truth (stealing my watch), but told her about the teacher making us fight in class. She was pissed. My mom was pissed.
A lot of parents were pissed. Turned out a number of our class mates told their parents what happened, and in turn they called the school and district to complain.
We never did see the teacher that day, but the principal was another story. Apologizes were made, my suspension was lifted and for the next week we had a substitute teacher – our regular bitch teacher was put on some sort of disciplinary leave.
The good news in all this, I got my watch back.
The better news, fortunately I had no idea how to properly do the Pile Driver.
I was 6. I was in 1st Grade. This happened in the classroom at James Bickley Elementary School.
It involved me, a 6-year old wanna-be greaser class mate of mine, a fight and a bitch of a teacher.
The year was 1981. I started going to James Bickley in the middle of the Kindergarten school year that January, after my dad was stationed at the local Air Force Base. I had been around long enough to make friends and know who the bullies were. Sometime the bullies in schools are called Teachers.
My first grade teacher was one of those. Another was a kid my age in my 1st grade class who always wore this tiny leather jacket, with his hair slicked back, looking like Stallone from Paradise Alley or Lords of Flatbush.
Slick was always pushing kids around, but I also remember he was a favorite of this bitch teacher. I don’t know why, because he was nothing but trouble. (Maybe that was the reason, he was the hard luck case, allowed to get away with stuff because he needed more attention than others. This is just a thought looking back, I know I didn’t think that at 6 years old).
He was always trying to push me around too. Problem was (still is, for better or worse), I pushed back. One day this broke out into a fight in class.
This lead us to the True Story I call 1ST GRADE PILEDRIVER
Yes, a fight broke out between me and Slick in the classroom. I remember what is was over to – He stole my Star Trek watch. He pulled it off my wrist as he walked by my desk going to his seat, after returning from the bathroom. He yank it so hard, my wrist jerked up and the strap’s pin that kept it in place broke.
I stood up, grabbed him to get my watch back and a shoving match broke out. The teacher told ME to give him the watch. It was my watch!
Then things got weird.
If we were going to fight – she was going to let us. REALLY!!
She had the entire class move their desks to the right, opening up an area to the left of the classroom. There was already a ‘play area’ with toys and books, for use during lunch and recess. She had Slick and I go to this area, and told us to get it out of our system while she went back to teaching the class.
SERIOUSLY. THIS HAPPENED. She urged us to fight.
We did.
At that time I was nowhere near the Pro Wrestling fan I would become, but I did watch it when my parents did, and I remembered some of the cool moves. So, guess what? I decided to do the smartest thing I could in a fight . . .
We were wrestling on the ground when I got to my feet and he was still on his knees, then I did it. Just like on TV. I put my legs around his head, lifted him up . . .
The Teacher screamed her head off at me . . . Too Late!
I spent the afternoon in the principal’s office, being punished. Of course my parents were called. I really had no idea what ‘suspension’ was I just knew I got out of school the next day. Slick was never called in to the principal’s office, and the principal’s never believed the story about the teacher.
Suspension or not I was at school the next morning, my mom brining me to school to confront the teacher and principal. Who else was there waiting outside our classroom? Slick and his grandmother whom he lived with. A little old Italian lady. A pissed little old Italian lady.
I thought there was going to be trouble. There wasn’t. She was here to talk to the teacher too. Slick didn’t tell her the entire truth (stealing my watch), but told her about the teacher making us fight in class. She was pissed. My mom was pissed.
A lot of parents were pissed. Turned out a number of our class mates told their parents what happened, and in turn they called the school and district to complain.
We never did see the teacher that day, but the principal was another story. Apologizes were made, my suspension was lifted and for the next week we had a substitute teacher – our regular bitch teacher was put on some sort of disciplinary leave.
The good news in all this, I got my watch back.
The better news, fortunately I had no idea how to properly do the Pile Driver.
Thursday, February 16, 2017
CHUG, CHUG . . . STUPID
I’ve written true stories about JAG before, where I used to work.
Well, here is another one. This is the tale of a time when a teenage girl at the center challenged me to something I ‘couldn’t do,’ and even bet me I couldn’t do it. Two other kids there jumped on and so did my Co-Worker.
Big mistake, but I am not sure for whom. Why? Well, when I’m challenged and told I can’t do something . . .
This is a True Story I call CHUG, CHUG . . . STUPID
On this fateful night we already had two kids in the center when a third, a young teenage girl, was brought in. It was myself, my co-worker and friend and an intern from ASU working that evening.
My co-worker and I were constantly playing Domino’s. He was actually a very good player, and taught me the game. I was constantly determined to beat him. We often engaged the kids brought into the center as a way to spend the time.
We also kept the fridge stocked with snacks, food and soda (Coke!). Well on this night we made a good time of it. We had a big game of Dominos, ordered Pizza and had a mini party.
Then a challenge was made – the teen girl made a comment about how much I must like Coca-Cola, and dared me to chug the can I just opened. Just a can, no big deal. Chug done.
Then she pressed – daring me chug a bottle. No biggie, I grabbed a 12 oz. bottle from the fridge. “Pussy,” she called me and grab the full 2 Liter (67.6 oz.) bottle.
She dared me to chug the whole thing.
Was I up for the challenge? Was I that stupid?
She dared me, and laid a $5 on the table. Made it a straight up bet and trying to punk me out. In fact, everyone got involved. $25 on the table, betting I couldn’t do it.
Well . . . guess what?
I burp so hard and loud and for so long almost everyone, except for the girl, was concerned for me. I thought the pizza and my internal organs we going to fly out. I literally had to sit down and recover from the burp.
Her response? “COOL!”
Well, here is another one. This is the tale of a time when a teenage girl at the center challenged me to something I ‘couldn’t do,’ and even bet me I couldn’t do it. Two other kids there jumped on and so did my Co-Worker.
Big mistake, but I am not sure for whom. Why? Well, when I’m challenged and told I can’t do something . . .
This is a True Story I call CHUG, CHUG . . . STUPID
On this fateful night we already had two kids in the center when a third, a young teenage girl, was brought in. It was myself, my co-worker and friend and an intern from ASU working that evening.
My co-worker and I were constantly playing Domino’s. He was actually a very good player, and taught me the game. I was constantly determined to beat him. We often engaged the kids brought into the center as a way to spend the time.
We also kept the fridge stocked with snacks, food and soda (Coke!). Well on this night we made a good time of it. We had a big game of Dominos, ordered Pizza and had a mini party.
Then a challenge was made – the teen girl made a comment about how much I must like Coca-Cola, and dared me to chug the can I just opened. Just a can, no big deal. Chug done.
Then she pressed – daring me chug a bottle. No biggie, I grabbed a 12 oz. bottle from the fridge. “Pussy,” she called me and grab the full 2 Liter (67.6 oz.) bottle.
She dared me to chug the whole thing.
Was I up for the challenge? Was I that stupid?
She dared me, and laid a $5 on the table. Made it a straight up bet and trying to punk me out. In fact, everyone got involved. $25 on the table, betting I couldn’t do it.
Well . . . guess what?
I burp so hard and loud and for so long almost everyone, except for the girl, was concerned for me. I thought the pizza and my internal organs we going to fly out. I literally had to sit down and recover from the burp.
Her response? “COOL!”
Saturday, February 4, 2017
Ghost Not
I used to work at a place called JAG (Juvenile Alternatives in Glendale). I was considered a counselor, and did intakes, outtakes and monitoring of Juveniles for a 24-hour Time Out. At least that was the job description.
I’ve written about it before.
It was hit or miss as to whether I liked the job. It wasn’t a job I wanted or applied for – but that is a story for another time.
It was claimed that the JAG building – a single story converted bungalow that use to be a house – was haunted. Lots of people claimed it. My Co-worked claimed it. Many of the kids who stayed there claimed it.
I never believed it.
This is a True Story I call GHOST NOT
I worked the 12P.M. to 10P.M. shift. After 5P.M. only two of us worked, so every night it was me, my co-worker and anywhere from zero to ten Juvies.
Many times my co-worker would tell me the place was haunted. Many times the Juvies would claim it as well.
The most common claims were simple: voices, weird noises and shadows. All easily explainable. JAG was on a very busy street corner, just off a housing area, and across from a car shop. All noises explained.
No one bought that. Why? The one big thing that kept happening. The TV.
The TV in the meeting room kept turning on by itself!
Keep in mind this is 2005/2006. The TV was an old counsel CRT TV. Not digital and defiantly not HD.
Now, I did experience the TV turning on by itself a few times. Much to my co-worker’s delight, who used it to prove the place was haunted. Some of the Juvies who spent more than one time out at JAG did the same.
TV on. Place Haunted. Ace Wrong.
Well . . . not really!
I noticed very easily that if there was a power surge, the TV came on. Sometimes the TV came on when a switch was flipped, or a door closed very hard. Obviously there were some wiring issues in the house. There was also something else.
I check over the TV one day – yes being a jackass to prove my point – and guess what? The push button to turn the TV on was loose. I took the TV apart and found the switch was broke and loose inside, the slightest movement could jiggle the switch on and off.
I fixed the switch and like a miracle the ghost was gone! JAG no longer haunted!
My co-worker moped for a while, he liked the idea of the place being haunted.
The boss was glad I did it. He could now use the TV in meetings, and it put an end to the Haunting idea he hated.
Simple, huh?
Ace.
I’ve written about it before.
It was hit or miss as to whether I liked the job. It wasn’t a job I wanted or applied for – but that is a story for another time.
It was claimed that the JAG building – a single story converted bungalow that use to be a house – was haunted. Lots of people claimed it. My Co-worked claimed it. Many of the kids who stayed there claimed it.
I never believed it.
This is a True Story I call GHOST NOT
I worked the 12P.M. to 10P.M. shift. After 5P.M. only two of us worked, so every night it was me, my co-worker and anywhere from zero to ten Juvies.
Many times my co-worker would tell me the place was haunted. Many times the Juvies would claim it as well.
The most common claims were simple: voices, weird noises and shadows. All easily explainable. JAG was on a very busy street corner, just off a housing area, and across from a car shop. All noises explained.
No one bought that. Why? The one big thing that kept happening. The TV.
The TV in the meeting room kept turning on by itself!
Keep in mind this is 2005/2006. The TV was an old counsel CRT TV. Not digital and defiantly not HD.
Now, I did experience the TV turning on by itself a few times. Much to my co-worker’s delight, who used it to prove the place was haunted. Some of the Juvies who spent more than one time out at JAG did the same.
TV on. Place Haunted. Ace Wrong.
Well . . . not really!
I noticed very easily that if there was a power surge, the TV came on. Sometimes the TV came on when a switch was flipped, or a door closed very hard. Obviously there were some wiring issues in the house. There was also something else.
I check over the TV one day – yes being a jackass to prove my point – and guess what? The push button to turn the TV on was loose. I took the TV apart and found the switch was broke and loose inside, the slightest movement could jiggle the switch on and off.
I fixed the switch and like a miracle the ghost was gone! JAG no longer haunted!
My co-worker moped for a while, he liked the idea of the place being haunted.
The boss was glad I did it. He could now use the TV in meetings, and it put an end to the Haunting idea he hated.
Simple, huh?
Ace.
Thursday, January 26, 2017
TIE ONE DOWN
Man, you know, I don’t drink, I don’t smoke, I don’t do drugs. That doesn’t make me boring. It makes me, me.
Things is, I always get the ‘You’re boring,’ thing from people, even though I often do more than they do. But once in a while I come across someone who really doesn’t like the fact that I won’t have a beer or drink, or smoke with them.
The kind of person that threatens to MAKE ONE do it.
This is a True Story I Call TIE ONE DOWN
This happened many years ago, around 1995/96. I’m out of college, looking for work and struggling with my writing. I have my degree in Business and Work Study experience in one hand, and my writing resume already filled with dozens of published credits in the other.
While working a part time job at a mail processing company (I worked there during my last semester in college as well), I made friends with an artist co-worker. We both wanted to work in comics, so we clicked.
His artwork was passable, but not great and needed to be refined. It didn’t really suit any of my stories, but it worked fine for his. We agreed that I would write the comic book series based on his characters and original idea, he would draw it and we would submit it out.
Through him I made some other friends and we all started to hang out on a regular basis. Unfortunately nothing ever really happened on his side of the deal. I wrote stuff, but the art was very slow forthcoming.
He liked to drink – a lot – and was always trying to get me to have a beer. I never did. It started to take a strain on what I thought was a friendship. He really didn’t like the fact that I didn’t drink, and somehow thought I was disrespecting him by not having a beer with him.
It came to a head during his birthday party at a club his uncle managed. I don’t even know if the place still exists, or what the name of the club was.
It began about two weeks before the party. He told me about the party and invited me. All was good until a few days later when he told me that if I was coming I was going to have a beer. I told him I wasn’t. End of story.
A couple of days before the party he brought up the beer issue again. This time telling me that he’d make me have one if I didn’t do it myself. That should have been a clue, but I was being a friend, and thought he was.
I went to the party, had a good time for a little while, then it happened. Stupid of me to go to the party in the first place. I was sitting at a table with a few people when he walked over with two beers in hand. One was for me.
I don’t drink.
He was really FUCKING serious about this. Two of the bouncers that worked for his uncle came up to either side of me. Both encouraging me to drink the beer. Before I answered, he told me that if I didn’t, he’d force the beer down my throat.
The people at the table didn’t like this. Some just said for me to drink the beer. Two girls told him to leave me alone.
I was pissed. I slammed a fist to the table, grabbed the beer, stood up . . .
He raised his glass, expecting a toast . . .
And I emptied the beer into his face. He froze in shock. I grabbed the beer from his hand and poured it out over his head and into his lap.
The bouncers didn’t do anything as I backed off from the table. They thought this was just some game between friends, they didn’t realize I don’t drink and his threat wasn’t a joke.
The little fuck that he was recovered from the shock of what I did and started to make threats and tried to jump me. Now the bouncers did their job.
His shouting brought out his uncle. Some quick words of explanation and his uncle lit into him. Ironically, the bouncers backed me up. Turns out his uncle didn’t like him very much, but he was blood.
I really tried to hold back my anger at this point. I didn’t want to pour the beer on him, I wanted to put him through the window and into traffic.
I left the club, never to see the guy again. I later heard from someone I am still friends him that he was arrested for assaulting someone at a gas station.
Moral of this story: I DON’T DRINK.
Oh, and Friends (REAL FRIENDS) don’t force friends to do stuff.
Ace.
Things is, I always get the ‘You’re boring,’ thing from people, even though I often do more than they do. But once in a while I come across someone who really doesn’t like the fact that I won’t have a beer or drink, or smoke with them.
The kind of person that threatens to MAKE ONE do it.
This is a True Story I Call TIE ONE DOWN
This happened many years ago, around 1995/96. I’m out of college, looking for work and struggling with my writing. I have my degree in Business and Work Study experience in one hand, and my writing resume already filled with dozens of published credits in the other.
While working a part time job at a mail processing company (I worked there during my last semester in college as well), I made friends with an artist co-worker. We both wanted to work in comics, so we clicked.
His artwork was passable, but not great and needed to be refined. It didn’t really suit any of my stories, but it worked fine for his. We agreed that I would write the comic book series based on his characters and original idea, he would draw it and we would submit it out.
Through him I made some other friends and we all started to hang out on a regular basis. Unfortunately nothing ever really happened on his side of the deal. I wrote stuff, but the art was very slow forthcoming.
He liked to drink – a lot – and was always trying to get me to have a beer. I never did. It started to take a strain on what I thought was a friendship. He really didn’t like the fact that I didn’t drink, and somehow thought I was disrespecting him by not having a beer with him.
It came to a head during his birthday party at a club his uncle managed. I don’t even know if the place still exists, or what the name of the club was.
It began about two weeks before the party. He told me about the party and invited me. All was good until a few days later when he told me that if I was coming I was going to have a beer. I told him I wasn’t. End of story.
A couple of days before the party he brought up the beer issue again. This time telling me that he’d make me have one if I didn’t do it myself. That should have been a clue, but I was being a friend, and thought he was.
I went to the party, had a good time for a little while, then it happened. Stupid of me to go to the party in the first place. I was sitting at a table with a few people when he walked over with two beers in hand. One was for me.
I don’t drink.
He was really FUCKING serious about this. Two of the bouncers that worked for his uncle came up to either side of me. Both encouraging me to drink the beer. Before I answered, he told me that if I didn’t, he’d force the beer down my throat.
The people at the table didn’t like this. Some just said for me to drink the beer. Two girls told him to leave me alone.
I was pissed. I slammed a fist to the table, grabbed the beer, stood up . . .
He raised his glass, expecting a toast . . .
And I emptied the beer into his face. He froze in shock. I grabbed the beer from his hand and poured it out over his head and into his lap.
The bouncers didn’t do anything as I backed off from the table. They thought this was just some game between friends, they didn’t realize I don’t drink and his threat wasn’t a joke.
The little fuck that he was recovered from the shock of what I did and started to make threats and tried to jump me. Now the bouncers did their job.
His shouting brought out his uncle. Some quick words of explanation and his uncle lit into him. Ironically, the bouncers backed me up. Turns out his uncle didn’t like him very much, but he was blood.
I really tried to hold back my anger at this point. I didn’t want to pour the beer on him, I wanted to put him through the window and into traffic.
I left the club, never to see the guy again. I later heard from someone I am still friends him that he was arrested for assaulting someone at a gas station.
Moral of this story: I DON’T DRINK.
Oh, and Friends (REAL FRIENDS) don’t force friends to do stuff.
Ace.
Sunday, January 15, 2017
DARK MIRROR
Years ago, between jobs, I would do side work from some people. Computers, handy work, errands, I built a small clientele in retirement communities. There were was one lady I never really liked, but she was never home when I would do stuff for her.
Her house was on a manmade lake in the far North West Valley of Metro Phoenix. The back yard was about ten feet deep, ending at a walkway with stairs down to the lake’s edge and a paddle boat for use on the lake.
On this day I was to pick up a couple of mirrors and hang them up for her.
This is a True Story I Call DARK MIRROR.
I picked up two mirrors for this lady from a no-longer-in-business store, and went to her house. She was out, but a key she gave me let me in. The mirrors were fairly large, but I had little problem in hanging them.
The living room one went up without a hitch.
The dining room had an even larger mirror on the wall she was replacing. The good news was I found out when I took the mirror down, I could still use the hooks there to put up the new mirror. It fit perfectly.
The dining room was adjoined to the Kitchen, like most houses built in this era. No separation at all. In the mirror was reflected the kitchen, kitchen window and the lake beyond. As I looked into the mirror I blinked and . . .
There was a black figure reflected in the mirror. I looked behind me, out the window: nothing. I looked back, the figure was still reflected in the mirror. It was the silhouette of a man’s upper body – as if someone was standing outside the window.
For the first time in my life I felt an icy chill run over me. It wasn’t my reflection, I know that. The figure stood off to my right.
I glanced back again and again nothing. The figure was now gone from the mirror as well.
I ran out back and looked around. I even went to the walkway and there was no one.
I have no problem in saying I was freaked by the moment. I tried to figure it out, but nothing I did brought the figure back. There was nothing that it could have been a reflection off.
This happened long before any show like Ghost Hunters ever hit the air, so there was no influence from that.
All I know is that briefly there was a figure in that mirror, and there was nothing there it could have been.
It only happened that one time. I was back there a number of times after that, I even looked in the mirror again, seeing if the figure would reappear. Or, if I could see something that would have caused it. Nothing.
The figure had no features, only the shape of a man. It was pitch black, not transparent and never moved. Yes, I know the different ideas of what it could have been, and what it could have meant.
Fortunately, none of those ideas have come to pass.
Ace.
Her house was on a manmade lake in the far North West Valley of Metro Phoenix. The back yard was about ten feet deep, ending at a walkway with stairs down to the lake’s edge and a paddle boat for use on the lake.
On this day I was to pick up a couple of mirrors and hang them up for her.
This is a True Story I Call DARK MIRROR.
I picked up two mirrors for this lady from a no-longer-in-business store, and went to her house. She was out, but a key she gave me let me in. The mirrors were fairly large, but I had little problem in hanging them.
The living room one went up without a hitch.
The dining room had an even larger mirror on the wall she was replacing. The good news was I found out when I took the mirror down, I could still use the hooks there to put up the new mirror. It fit perfectly.
The dining room was adjoined to the Kitchen, like most houses built in this era. No separation at all. In the mirror was reflected the kitchen, kitchen window and the lake beyond. As I looked into the mirror I blinked and . . .
There was a black figure reflected in the mirror. I looked behind me, out the window: nothing. I looked back, the figure was still reflected in the mirror. It was the silhouette of a man’s upper body – as if someone was standing outside the window.
For the first time in my life I felt an icy chill run over me. It wasn’t my reflection, I know that. The figure stood off to my right.
I glanced back again and again nothing. The figure was now gone from the mirror as well.
I ran out back and looked around. I even went to the walkway and there was no one.
I have no problem in saying I was freaked by the moment. I tried to figure it out, but nothing I did brought the figure back. There was nothing that it could have been a reflection off.
This happened long before any show like Ghost Hunters ever hit the air, so there was no influence from that.
All I know is that briefly there was a figure in that mirror, and there was nothing there it could have been.
It only happened that one time. I was back there a number of times after that, I even looked in the mirror again, seeing if the figure would reappear. Or, if I could see something that would have caused it. Nothing.
The figure had no features, only the shape of a man. It was pitch black, not transparent and never moved. Yes, I know the different ideas of what it could have been, and what it could have meant.
Fortunately, none of those ideas have come to pass.
Ace.
Thursday, January 12, 2017
This Is Another True Wal-Mart Story I Call WHY I HATE . . .
I really don’t like Wal-Mart. In fact I hate it. I only shop there when my mom asks me to pick something up, or one of my clients insist I get items they need from Wal-Mart.
Once again, I had an issue at Wal-Mart with one of their employees. I have never had issues like this anywhere else.
This is border line wrong to say, but sometimes it is hard to not say I hate people who work at Wal-Mart. I don’t hate them, in general. However I know the negative atmosphere that Wal-Mart creates, and that often seeps into how their employees treat people.
I went into a super Wal-Mart to get food and items for a client. This bitch nice lady insist that is must be from Wal-Mart. In fact she’ll refuse to pay if the receipt is from anywhere else, even if it is cheaper.
Any, I went to the Super, I picked up her stuff, and a couple of things for me. Two DVD’s and a bottle of soda were my stuff. At the self-check I scanned all of my client’s stuff, leaving mine on the side. Her stuff came to over a hundred dollars.
As I started to pay, the clerk there came up to me and she said, “You know you have to pay for this stuff.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement.
I told her I would, in a moment.
She grab the stuff and started to walk off with it! Seriously!!
I told her I wanted it. She again told me I needed to pay for it. I told her I am going to, but I am paying for the stuff separately.
I paid for my client’s stuff. This bitch clerk stayed there next to me, ignoring others, watching and making sure I scanned and paid for my stuff. The whole time she talked about how this was stupid, she’s never known anyone to pay separately.
Once done, I held both receipts up and asked if she wanted to see them. She said no, she knew I paid.
I left, put my stuff in the car, but I couldn’t let this go.
I went back in, talked to her and asked her out. Yes, I did. To my surprised she said ‘Sure.’ That worked out nice for what I wanted to do.
My response, ‘Do I have to pay first?’
She didn’t like that. :-(
Ace.
Once again, I had an issue at Wal-Mart with one of their employees. I have never had issues like this anywhere else.
This is border line wrong to say, but sometimes it is hard to not say I hate people who work at Wal-Mart. I don’t hate them, in general. However I know the negative atmosphere that Wal-Mart creates, and that often seeps into how their employees treat people.
This is a True Story I call WHY I HATE . . . .
I went into a super Wal-Mart to get food and items for a client. This bitch nice lady insist that is must be from Wal-Mart. In fact she’ll refuse to pay if the receipt is from anywhere else, even if it is cheaper.
Any, I went to the Super, I picked up her stuff, and a couple of things for me. Two DVD’s and a bottle of soda were my stuff. At the self-check I scanned all of my client’s stuff, leaving mine on the side. Her stuff came to over a hundred dollars.
As I started to pay, the clerk there came up to me and she said, “You know you have to pay for this stuff.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement.
I told her I would, in a moment.
She grab the stuff and started to walk off with it! Seriously!!
I told her I wanted it. She again told me I needed to pay for it. I told her I am going to, but I am paying for the stuff separately.
I paid for my client’s stuff. This bitch clerk stayed there next to me, ignoring others, watching and making sure I scanned and paid for my stuff. The whole time she talked about how this was stupid, she’s never known anyone to pay separately.
Once done, I held both receipts up and asked if she wanted to see them. She said no, she knew I paid.
I left, put my stuff in the car, but I couldn’t let this go.
I went back in, talked to her and asked her out. Yes, I did. To my surprised she said ‘Sure.’ That worked out nice for what I wanted to do.
My response, ‘Do I have to pay first?’
She didn’t like that. :-(
Ace.
Thursday, January 5, 2017
This is a True Story: NAILED IT!!!!
My mom might not be happy with me sharing this story, considering how she reacted to this event.
This event being me coming home at 9 or 10 years old with a nail through my finger in a True Story I call NAILED IT.
During this time my dad was stationed in England (US Air Forces) and we lived in Base Housing in Biscter, in a community called Glory Farms. I liked the place, except for the fact that our house was across the street from my school. (Boo!)
That made it hard to skip out, or even get out of school being sick. And I sure couldn’t miss the school bus. However, it did mean that I could go home for lunch! Which I did every day to a homemade lunch courtesy of my mom.
Well, one day I came home, crying my eyes out and screaming in pain. I had a nail through my middle finger, blood ran down my hand and stained the nail. My mom freaked out, unsure what to do at first. She sat me down, put a wet cloth around my hand, and tried to calm me down as she grabbed the phone to call an ambulance.
That is when I took the fake plastic nail off my finger and showed it to her, laughing. The nail and the blood were fake! I was acting and got one over on my mom big time. She truly believed I had a nail driven through my finger.
Until she almost knocked me the hell out. She was pissed and didn’t find it funny. She went to hit me, but stopped herself and didn’t (she NEVER hit me no matter what I did.).
I felt bad at that point, and tried to apologize, it was just a joke. (A good one). Turns out, she was more upset with herself for her reaction, then me. All good.
When I got home from school later that day, it was my mom’s turn. She told me to pull the same prank on my father, she even went along with me.
My dad’s response? “Nice nail.” Dumb dad.
This is one of my fondest memories because it worked. Not so much my mom.
Ace.
This event being me coming home at 9 or 10 years old with a nail through my finger in a True Story I call NAILED IT.
During this time my dad was stationed in England (US Air Forces) and we lived in Base Housing in Biscter, in a community called Glory Farms. I liked the place, except for the fact that our house was across the street from my school. (Boo!)
That made it hard to skip out, or even get out of school being sick. And I sure couldn’t miss the school bus. However, it did mean that I could go home for lunch! Which I did every day to a homemade lunch courtesy of my mom.
Well, one day I came home, crying my eyes out and screaming in pain. I had a nail through my middle finger, blood ran down my hand and stained the nail. My mom freaked out, unsure what to do at first. She sat me down, put a wet cloth around my hand, and tried to calm me down as she grabbed the phone to call an ambulance.
That is when I took the fake plastic nail off my finger and showed it to her, laughing. The nail and the blood were fake! I was acting and got one over on my mom big time. She truly believed I had a nail driven through my finger.
PERFECT.
Until she almost knocked me the hell out. She was pissed and didn’t find it funny. She went to hit me, but stopped herself and didn’t (she NEVER hit me no matter what I did.).
I felt bad at that point, and tried to apologize, it was just a joke. (A good one). Turns out, she was more upset with herself for her reaction, then me. All good.
When I got home from school later that day, it was my mom’s turn. She told me to pull the same prank on my father, she even went along with me.
My dad’s response? “Nice nail.” Dumb dad.
This is one of my fondest memories because it worked. Not so much my mom.
Ace.
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