tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-360895852012-02-16T01:19:11.095-07:00An exercise in futility to exorcise the fertility of my mind.T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.comBlogger1701100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-10115223108080946152010-11-21T11:15:00.006-07:002010-11-24T22:39:30.828-07:00

My friend Kathleen told me that when Mom died, my life would forever change. She was right. Mom passed over on October 28th at 3:27 a.m. The Redhead and I were with her during her last moments on earth. It was very quiet and peaceful, her going. Now that Mom is gone, I am alone.I had no comprehension of how deeply she loved me. She loved me without limitation. "I'll find you in the morning

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-46201934729581049262010-09-30T20:15:00.004-07:002010-09-30T20:44:00.197-07:00

Sarah Palin talks about "Momma Grizzlies". Heh. She's never met me and "Tenacious R.", my new nickname for my sister, The Redhead.The below email is from me to Tenacious R. I was questioning what we share Mom at this point in her life.My idiot cousin Richard sent an email to Tenacious. Richard requested Tenacious read his email to Mum and being the most awesome daughter ever, she read it to Mum.I

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-32692261635750660482010-09-25T14:17:00.003-07:002010-09-27T18:05:14.951-07:00

My beautiful friend "Q" passed away on Wednesday, September 21, 2010.If you'd met her, you'd think to yourself, "How is it someone so beautiful can be so down-to-earth? She is priceless. I want her in my life forever."I tried to have her in my life forever, but unfortunately, she left last week.Her name wasn't "Q" of course. She had a real name, but I, in my insistence on giving all my friends

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-59405151210267626382010-09-17T19:03:00.003-07:002010-09-17T19:17:34.565-07:00

I curse the day we met.I would have been better off had we not met.I miss you. Where are you?Could I please be given a tiny scalpel-like instrument that will easily remove the part of my brain that remembers you? I want to scoop out the part of my brain that remembers you. I want it scooped out and thrown in the garbage disposal. Then I want to turn on the cold water tap and turn on the the

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-86950727176627933542010-09-11T08:58:00.008-07:002010-09-12T11:41:20.918-07:00

About three weeks ago, Mom descended into a new phase of her illness. She's slipping away. The light is gone from her eyes; her strength is gone; the few pleasures she had left are no longer enjoyable.For the first time, The Redhead and I have been exchanging ideas about Mom's memorial service. The topic of Mom's memorial service was alluded to, but never approached with such openness between us.

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-21918918609324367962010-07-06T19:37:00.002-07:002010-07-06T19:41:00.829-07:00

People ask me why I've never married and I tell them it's because I've never been asked by a man I loved to marry him, nor has a man who loved me asked me to marry him. You have to kind of be on the same page.But I think more than anything else the reason why I've never been married is because men are a pain in the fucking ass.They'd say the same about me, and that's perfectly fine. I KNOW I'm

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-3719130880489736012010-06-25T20:49:00.016-07:002010-06-29T10:35:27.531-07:00

A wedding: the legal and spiritual contract of two people who love one another and want to bind together for the rest of their lives. Beautiful in its simplicity-- two people find one another, fall in love, decide to spend their lives together-- a wedding ceremony seals them to one another. On that day, heaven shines its light on two fortunate beings and fate smiles upon them for having found

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-68616113682633314612010-06-09T17:32:00.008-07:002010-06-09T20:55:56.879-07:00

We call them "Shower Thoughts", the Redhead and I.Shower Thoughts is the collective, gritty mosaic of things you wish you could undo, erase from your memory, or wish you hadn't said-- a lurid mosaic so spectacularly, carelessly bad it is housed in the permanent collection of the Self-Flagellation Gallery located on Subconscious Avenue (Open 24 hours a day! You're the only visitor!).Shower

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-47838568360887399702010-06-09T14:00:00.003-07:002010-06-09T14:33:34.702-07:00

I'm going to start writing again.Expect sharp criticisms, deep bitterness and complaints of mental exhaustion, with light sprinklings of puppydog tummies, butterflies and rainbows!Needless to say, going dark was a decision I made hoping I'd be able to focus on gettin' happy. Stopping writing didn't help me get happy in the least bit. I only blocked myself from the necessary self-realization

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-12767503941759139712009-09-24T20:34:00.003-07:002009-09-24T20:41:00.741-07:00

Life is just too much at the moment. My heart can't divulge any more crap to the general public.I have so little energy and realize that any energy I have needs to be directed to finding my teeny-tiny little sunlit corner of life. This is hard to do when you're all kinds of fucked up, like I am.So I'm going to stop writing on this blog indefinitely.To my four or five readers, thanks for reading

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-82821383098073052912009-09-24T20:00:00.007-07:002009-09-24T20:33:32.219-07:00

I don't know where to start except I am so fucking angry and disappointed right now.I am furious.You know what? If you are a man and you're just looking for some pussy, consider:Women are people.People must be treated with respect.If you don't treat people with respect, you will hurt them, one way or the other.Once they're hurt, it's very hard to undo the hurt.To the pussy guy:Do all of us a

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-58584762576365926002009-09-13T11:26:00.002-07:002009-09-13T11:57:57.326-07:00

Weeks of phone calls, emails culminating in beautiful, magical weekend.Hotel-- art deco, beautifully restored, swank. Room-- mid-century modern, fireplace, corner view, Egyptian cotton sheets. Accoutrements-- French champagne, bouquets of flowers. Food-- room service, fabulous Italian restaurant.Man-- successful, warm, sexy, funny, intelligent. Me-- happy I've met him and I'm there with

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-66562615640363106542009-09-03T09:18:00.007-07:002009-09-03T09:23:52.673-07:00

... a momma bear and her two cubs dropped by to see us.

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-45093454589598202072009-08-09T10:02:00.018-07:002009-08-29T22:50:28.984-07:00

We've all met them-- those grim-faced, suspicious workers at government facilities. Their words are clipped, their sentences are to the point. They don't offer their opinions, they aren't expansive. They give only what you ask for and not one thing more.Why are they like this? Why is it when you visit the DMV darned near every person who serves you is abrupt and stiff? Why is it at the Post

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-18557432505835360832009-06-25T07:14:00.007-07:002009-06-25T08:36:52.450-07:00

It'd be so exciting to hear a philandering politician tell the truth about what really happened when he cheated on his wife.Governor Mark Sanford of South Carolina said all the predictable things at his press conference yesterday, but had he told the truth, it would have been more like this:"I cheated on my wife because I was bored out of my mind. I'd reached the pinnacle of my political career

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-26429301920611566362009-05-27T07:11:00.009-07:002009-05-27T07:46:46.425-07:00

Redhead: Good Lord.T-Bone: She is indeed the most intoxicatingly beautiful person alive. That dress is un-fucking-believable.Redhead: How? I mean, honestly.T-Bone: Brad looks like a schlub next to her. Flesh-toned chiffon-- don't wear it. You'll have corpse-pallor. But not Angie! She can wear it! She can wear anything! Doesn't matter what shape it is, what fabric it's made of, what color it is--

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-64238011340762906612009-05-25T08:14:00.007-07:002009-05-25T08:30:43.569-07:00

We called the enemy ghosts. "Bad night," we'd say, "the ghosts are out." To get spooked, in the lingo, meant not only to get scared but to get killed. "Don't get spooked," we'd say. "Stay cool, stay alive." Or we'd say: "Careful, man, don't give up the ghost." The countryside itself seemed spooky-- shadows and tunnels and incense burning in the dark. The land was haunted. We were fighting forces

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-88502147284093070472009-05-20T19:07:00.009-07:002009-05-20T21:13:21.547-07:00

So this is what happened: My sweet cockatiel Phoebe has been laying eggs. Lots of them.A week ago, I began to get a worried after the fourth egg. I was concerned that laying eggs over and over and over again would be depleting her tiny little four-ounce body. I've been keeping a close eye on her recently. Yesterday morning (which seems like a million years ago) I uncovered her cage and

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-7430312326852403292009-04-06T19:39:00.004-07:002009-04-06T19:50:20.669-07:00

To start, I stupidly, unforgiveably, brought her food she couldn't eat. Secondly, I couldn't understand a blessed word she said.Then I wasn't strong enough to move her into a comfortable position in bed.Lastly, I couldn't read her writing when she tried to put on paper what she wanted to say.I stood over her bed and held her hand, her calm face looking up at mine as I cried."Mom, I have to go.

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-12008651512366706322009-03-30T18:11:00.008-07:002009-03-31T07:38:34.915-07:00

A foul bundle of voicemails awaited me this morning.Thursday afternoon, we were released early from work due to a wicked blizzard that was bearing down upon us. Friday was a snow day. The display window on my phone warned me of the expected irritants when I sat down at my desk today.Sighing, I dialed my access code."SIX. TEEN. MESSAGES. MESSAGE ONE. THURS. DAY. MARCH. TWENTY-SIXTH. AT. FIVE.

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-82777358472992582012009-03-21T11:18:00.005-07:002009-03-21T12:10:22.781-07:00

When I think of him, I glow inside.We talk, we giggle, we gossip, we sympathize, we discuss, we tease.His messages on my phone, his emails in my inbox-- these simple things are little gifts left on my world's doorstep.He's irreverent, genial, warm; all are drawn to him. His star-like qualities attract men and women alike, and they want to be in his orbit.He is guileless; his charm is not bait,

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-62748090509447877842009-03-21T10:54:00.002-07:002009-03-21T11:13:19.116-07:00

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-30077014390421129742009-03-18T19:58:00.002-07:002009-03-18T20:03:06.300-07:00

Come taste the wine,Come hear the band.Come blow your horn, start celebrating;Right this way, your table's waitingNo use permitting some prophet of doomTo wipe every smile away.Life is a Cabaret, old chum,Come to the Cabaret!Start by admitting from cradle to tombIsn't that long a stay.Life is a Cabaret, old chum,Only a Cabaret, old chum,And I love a Cabaret!

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-96070723564131202009-03-08T13:38:00.017-07:002009-03-11T19:23:26.647-07:00

I've been dating him for nine months.He's everything on my list-- handsome, romantic, courteous, polite, funny, responsible, sweet, kind, easy-going, hard-working. He loves his family. He gets along great with my family. He loves me.You may be thinking, "But what, T-Bone?"The fact is, I don't mesh with his younger daughter.He was just divorced recently, separated from his ex about a year ago. So

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-74046868760352703702009-02-17T19:41:00.002-07:002009-02-17T19:45:07.001-07:00

Oriental rugs.Sofas.Pillows (decorative and bed pillows).Carpet.Inside shoes.Kitchen countertops.Diningroom chairs (the padded kind).Afghans.Blankets.Books and magazines.Cats and Those Things Upon Which They Never Vomit:Tile.Glass.Plastic.

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-14547211981609163492009-02-07T07:13:00.006-07:002009-02-07T08:43:07.672-07:00

That's correct. I've not lost my fingers with which to type, nor lost my mind with which to think. I've simply had a long stretch of bullshit that's sucked away time that I'd normally use for writing on my little corner of Blogger.Here are some highlights!My car: my car engine bit the dust with 57,000 miles on it. Ironically I'd just paid off my car; the Powers That Be decided that now I no

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-13036952440721150922009-01-03T22:21:00.003-07:002009-01-03T22:43:35.940-07:00

From Craigslist (spelling, punctuation and screaming font all copied directly from ad):AM STILL TRYING TO FIND MS. RIGHT FOR ME!!! I WANT TO LET ALL LADIES KNOW THAT AM A "BIG" OR "FAT" OR "OBESE" MAN, WHICHEVER IT IS!!! IF U DONT LIKE MEN IN THIS CATEGORY THAN THATS UR CHOICE!!! I DONT JUDGE PPL, BUT PPL JUDGE ME FOR MY WEIGHT, THE WORLD CAN BE SO CRUEL!!!! AM JUST LOOKING FOR A CARING LADY THAT

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-37176121061700869412008-09-25T20:35:00.007-07:002008-09-27T00:44:26.505-07:00

Ed delivered the eulogy. His bright blue eyes peered at the mourners over his reading glasses."Everyone here today is asking themselves, 'Why?'"When I was in college, I had a professor that challenged us to take a glass and fill it with water. Try to hold that glass straight out in front of you for twenty minutes. It's hard, isn't it? Try holding it in front of you for an hour. For a day. It

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-18419743999574976922008-09-21T16:22:00.004-07:002008-09-21T17:29:44.625-07:00

On Sunday evenings, fresh out of the bath and in my nightgown, I'd saunter down to the basement and to Dad, who was usually hunched over his drafting table, measuring, drawing lines, writing meticulously on plans, whistling to music on the radio. A cigarette burned in the ashtray and a cup of tepid coffee was at arm's reach. I'd hover next to him and watch him work, hypnotized by his confidence

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-2358204518683570462008-09-12T15:11:00.006-07:002008-09-12T15:37:35.577-07:00

The Secret Service has given Sarah and Todd Palin "code names" (why are these code names leaked to the press?). Sarah has been given the moniker of "Denali" (the frozen National Park Wilderness in Alaska) and Todd was given the name "Driller".After reading this news item, The Redhead sent me a limerick that I'm excited to share with you!An Alaskan fish, moose, and wolf killerHad five kids with a

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-70284940104237656562008-09-04T20:21:00.015-07:002008-09-05T13:49:00.622-07:00

Alrighty! So I was taking notes while watching the Republican National Convention last night. Here they are, along with some random thoughts.Watching this event is like walking into K-Mart-- yellowish, unflattering lighting, NASCAR references, bad haircuts. Deeeeeeeeeeeeepressing.CINDY McCAIN"Cindy Lou"-- angelic music playing prior to her clip. Hm. Her Dad was a Budweiser distributor after WWII.

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-41846503203438236552008-08-20T17:46:00.007-07:002008-08-20T21:47:55.057-07:00

My Tonstant Weaders know the back story.For several years now, a rash of idiots have felt perfectly entitled to park in my private parking space when all the "fun" events take place in The Hamlet and public parking is non-existent. Irrelevantly-- apparently-- this parking area in which I park my car is infested with signs reading "Private Parking", "No Parking", "Tow Zone", "No Parking Tow Zone",

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-30458776519107327082008-08-07T17:33:00.010-07:002008-09-05T20:48:38.023-07:00

As you know, Dear Readers, I relish my bad habits.Once in awhile I will saunter half-heartedly into the Land of Health by swallowing vitamins and various nutritional supplements, stretch languidly with yoga and even allow those super-positive thought thingies into my consciousness.This never lasts too long.My much-loved pursuits do require the rapid-fire of brain cells, but are tempered with many

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-77210111958708498232008-07-30T08:57:00.008-07:002008-07-30T10:58:09.988-07:00

So I smoked like a madman over the weekend. "Oh, I'm going to miss you, my little friends," I'd say to the ciggy each time I torched up.Sunday night-- failsafe.I lit up the last ciggy. "Goodbye! Goodbye!" I said to the ciggy.I finished it, went inside, showered, flossed and brushed. Soon after falling into bed, I slept deeply, with the clean conscience of a pollyanna do-gooder.But as Grandma

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-75039247586271291582008-07-30T00:01:00.002-07:002008-07-30T00:10:00.817-07:00

I went to my doctor for my annual pap schmear. My doctor is a tiny little Hispanic lady with a heavy accent."So... I'm thinking about going back on birth control," I said to her. She outlined several options. "Choo can haf an IUD," she offered. "Nah, I'm not too keen about having a piece of copper in my body for five years," I answered. "I'm kind of good with the pill.""Well," she said, her

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-1160013504963437782008-07-22T22:17:00.004-07:002008-07-22T22:28:32.971-07:00

I downloaded some porn and a nasty virus infected my computer, completely blowing out my operating system. God was punishing me for my sick and twisted sins.Whatevs!So, I took the computer to the shop. Two weeks and an economic stimulus check later, I'm back writing for you, dear readers. I will attempt to post something terribly clever within the next couple of days.Remember kids-- don't do

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-82983909461182962492008-07-02T19:57:00.002-07:002008-07-02T20:15:49.678-07:00

"Thank you for calling The Hamlet. This is T-Bone."A quavery, accusatory male voice said, "Yeah. I need to talk to someone about the fireworks this year. Who can I talk to?""Sir, I can try to help you. What's your question?"His lengthy pause prepared me for the oncoming shitstorm."I wanna know where the fireworks are bein' shot off this year.""They're being shot off from the flats this year,

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-42825785124118741602008-06-30T18:54:00.002-07:002008-06-30T18:57:56.734-07:00

What's for dinner tonight?A pint of Ben & Jerry's Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough ice cream, which I'm eating with a fork.It's delicious.

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-76908983163440898012008-06-26T20:24:00.015-07:002008-06-26T21:04:24.391-07:00

Major applause and warm appreciation to Tracie "Slut Machine" Egan over at Jezebel, who put together this latest Comic Confrontation-- AMY WINEHOUSE VS. JUDGE JUDY.

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-73570201743763223382008-06-20T18:47:00.006-07:002008-06-20T19:06:57.080-07:00

Refrain from trying on bikinis at 6:00 p.m. Friday under the cruel, green fluorescent light of Target's fitting room.I can guarantee that you will see a mottled, pale, saggy and bloated version of your former hot self, then you will wonder what the fuck happened.Then, you will think of nothing else for the next two hours.

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-26431096360058781802008-06-15T08:01:00.002-07:002008-06-15T08:58:45.059-07:00

These days, the Hamlet's Public Works Department is divided into two camps-- those who want changes in the way it is managed and those who manage it, and those who think that it is perfectly fine just the way it is. These factions are antagonistic toward one another, so much so that longtime co-workers no longer speak to one another, except to call each other "asshole" and "motherfucker", etc.The

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-43600861262363808012008-06-06T21:39:00.002-07:002008-06-06T21:45:33.079-07:00

My time is not my own, and I'll resume posting within a week.Please please PLEASE keep checking back, especially my frequent visitor/reader in New South Wales, whom I fantasize is my husband Russell Crowe.Oh, come on. I'm working sixty fucking hours a week. Let me have a fantasy life, okay?Thank you very much.

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-48186187670228273192008-05-26T06:39:00.010-07:002008-05-26T07:19:01.051-07:00

IN FLANDERS FIELDS the poppies blowBetween the crosses row on row,That mark our place; and in the skyThe larks, still bravely singing, flyScarce heard amid the guns below.We are the Dead. Short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,Loved and were loved, and now we lieIn Flanders fields.Take up our quarrel with the foe:To you from failing hands we throwThe torch; be yours to hold it

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-53949060142913320032008-05-06T19:51:00.008-07:002008-05-13T18:01:29.894-07:00

Sometimes living here in The Hamlet is really hard.Having spent most of my childhood here, my early adulthood, and now that I'm back here as a full-fledged grown-up, it's difficult to dig a hole in the ground, throw memories which I need to forget into a hole, and shovel the dirt back over, bit by bit.I think of things I shouldn't.I think of Timmy, who went to college at the Air Force Academy,

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-47466637411129448692008-05-04T21:04:00.015-07:002008-05-05T11:26:13.000-07:00

For me to date a man, he must meet certain standards. I want to have a package rather than a project.As a young lady, my list of standards was terribly unrealistic and ridiculously long. Nowadays my list is shorter; some would argue that it is still unrealistic.Frankly, I don't care if the list is perceived as unrealistic. I don't ask for a lot from the guys I date. The guy's alternative

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-15377532684203232392008-04-12T11:16:00.004-07:002008-04-12T12:21:37.033-07:00

A disheveled, angry man came into the office. His eyes were blazing. In a tense, controlled voice he asked, "There's a plaque across the street in the park. There's a name of a family on that plaque that donated the land in the park to The Hamlet. Is their name pronounced 'Karr' or 'Kerr'"?"Sir, I'm not sure. Maybe--""Do you keep genealogical information in this office? Like birth records,

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-38799860925918165962008-03-24T19:50:00.005-07:002008-03-24T20:17:38.330-07:00

Today I began my "new" job at the Hamlet's City Hall.That's right-- no more dust, no more dirt, no more feta cheese-covered keyboards. Instead, I was greeted with a lovely vase of daffodils on my desk, a funny card bidding me welcome, warm smiles, sincere thank you's, positive words and pats on the back. In my new office, the carpet is vacuumed. The trashcan is emptied. There are no disgusting

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-70332021292351182452008-03-23T07:24:00.003-07:002008-03-23T07:27:47.794-07:00

Sacrelige. Peep Show.Have a happy Easter, everyone.

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-47455641286038022512008-03-20T15:58:00.004-07:002008-03-20T16:54:02.203-07:00

Let's stop using the phrase "OUT OF WEDLOCK". First of all, ain't nobody's bidness if the child's parents are married or not. The child is here sharing space with us. The lack of a wedding doesn't make the kid "OUT" or "IN" of anything; it just makes the child HERE.Secondly, the use of the archaic word "WEDLOCK" in our modern age is just silly. The word "wedlock" insinuates marriage is some

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-6458554728762222302008-03-17T21:09:00.003-07:002008-03-17T21:25:15.052-07:00

Life has a loveliness to sell-All beautiful and splendid things;Blue waves whitened on a cliff,Climbing fire that sways and sings,And children's faces looking upHolding wonder like a cup.Life has a loveliness to sell-Music like a curve of gold,Scent of pine trees in the rain,Eyes that love you, arms that hold,And for your spirit's still delight,Holy thoughts that star the night.Spend all you have

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-29217424889048530012008-03-17T20:46:00.003-07:002008-03-17T20:56:16.797-07:00

Yeah, I deleted my last post.In case you didn't read the post, it was about a really naive idea we had at work and how we thought we'd try to open up discussion with management about our concerns. Suffice to say, it didn't come out very well.Truthfully, I'm sick of thinking about the whole situation and didn't want to sully my blog, or your mind, with all the crap that followed.So I hit the

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-23074911976483835542008-03-05T18:13:00.002-07:002008-03-05T18:48:37.794-07:00

Each morning on my way to work, I pass a little house, ramshackle and run-down. The house is enclosed by a combination chain-link and wood fence, with the side yard visible. The yard is a sad sight, worn down to hard-packed dirt and rocks, diseased-looking scrub oaks and tufts of dead, straw-like weeds. I take particular notice of this yard every day, because the idiot that lives there has

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-46845240059595565012008-02-29T11:42:00.006-07:002008-03-01T17:33:16.323-07:00

There is a lady at work whom I refer to as "The Stump". She is short, dark and dumpy, with frizzy brown hair, bags under her eyes and stained, unmanicured fingernails. Her clothes are torn and dirty. She eats cereal and smelly feta cheese burritos at her desk.Her personality-- well, I contend she is missing a compassion chip. Sometimes she says things that astonish me with their complete lack of

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-41000603444664695312008-02-27T07:51:00.003-07:002008-02-27T08:21:23.758-07:00

I've been sick with some kind of lung-filling, sinus-blocking, voice-thieving, muscle-crunching virus these last few days. I slept most of last week, wore filthy pajamas, drank water and tea and ate virtually nothing. My voice is taking little trembly steps back to normalcy-- I sound like Demi Moore. Sexy.Time disappears when I'm sick. It's an odd thought that the world went on while I was in a

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-44463570775016144212008-01-23T08:43:00.001-07:002008-01-23T09:08:23.282-07:00

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-58115160009782040112008-01-13T10:53:00.001-07:002008-01-13T12:17:05.791-07:00

According to a quiz at Belief.net, I am spiritually a bit too thin. This is true. I live lean and mean; not out of necessity, but out of habit.With the exception of a few good financial years during my adult life, I've been poor. I've learned to do without things that most people possess; cable television, new clothes, a cellphone, a full freezer, a full gas tank, lattes from Starbucks, and

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-18061798942604456032008-01-11T07:23:00.000-07:002008-01-11T07:42:49.851-07:00

Gina asked I post pictures of the Anthropologie shoes that are central to The Redhead's fantasy. Here they are. "Ooooh! Lookit!!!!"and...I'm all over the heels. Oh boy.

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-72585692851205280212008-01-08T08:04:00.000-07:002008-01-08T08:57:40.128-07:00

The Redhead sent me a picture of dangerously adorable tangerine leather peep-toe character shoes with a white instep strap (and button!) this morning (from Anthropologie, natch), with this little story: From: yer "sis" Provence: As the waiter sets a tiny dish of olives next to your wineglass, you smile "Merci" and shade your eyes against the afternoon sun while looking up the road winding its way

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-10895315226201319362008-01-06T18:24:00.000-07:002008-01-07T15:27:08.653-07:00

There are those who lust for power, money, or attention.Me? I lust for really cute shoes.Just ask The Redhead and she'll tell you-- if we are in a department store, we will inevitably gravitate to the shoe section where I'll find a beautiful pair of shoes. I will hold one of the glorious shoes up to my cheek and squeal, "Redhead! Lookit!" Repeat this ten times. This is what we do when we go to

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-40881898109896737302008-01-03T18:56:00.000-07:002008-01-03T19:09:09.915-07:00

January 8th, 2008- a day I look forward to with one fluttering heart, two sweaty palms, and three heapin' helpin's of overwhelming anticipation!Thaaaaat's right... My Husband Russell Crowe's movie, 3:10 to Yuma, is coming out on DVD.Note the tagline: "Time Waits for One Man". It should've read: "T-Bone Waits for One Man." Just saying.As I've mentioned before, dear readers, I have a rich fantasy

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-12476987781566977202008-01-03T15:03:00.000-07:002008-01-03T14:57:15.815-07:00

Here's the iconic greedmeister from Wall Street, Gordon Gekko. He is the poster child for the deadliest of the seven deadlies-- GREED. Underhanded, manipulative, and dishonest, these qualities make a person like Gordon into that one thing-- GREEDY.The news is always filled with greedy characters, but one group of people in particular spring to mind-- those steroid-taking, human growth

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-87926993111338996552007-12-28T12:28:00.000-07:002007-12-28T12:59:32.820-07:00

This conversation was intercepted by Pakistani authorities (thanks to NPR for the transcript):Maulvi Sahib: They were our men there.Mehsud: Who were they?Maulvi Sahib : There were Saeed, the second was Badarwala Bilal and Ikramullah was also there.Mehsud: The three did it?Maulvi Sahib: Ikramullah and Bilal did it.Mehsud: Then congratulations to you again.Maulvi: Where are you? I want to meet with

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-28762862345429801102007-12-26T12:04:00.001-07:002007-12-27T11:44:53.971-07:00

On a Discovery Channel special about these creatures, Ralph Fiennes memorably and beautifully pronounced the word "sloth" with a long o, rhyming with "both", rather than the nasal American pronounication of "sloth". When I am in the midst of bout of sloth, it should be pronounced the American way; ugly and short: "slaaaaaaaahth".Sloth is a sin of omission, rather than a sin committed in action (

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-64336098211247049242007-12-11T20:47:00.000-07:002007-12-12T21:43:19.780-07:00

There is a fine line between love and hate. I'm ashamed to say that a person whom I love very much and who was instrumental in shaping the woman I've become, is also the person with whom I was most angry in my life.Michael and I met in the smoking section of our office building. We were the two loser-tobacco-addicted-holdouts in our tower, otherwise filled with healthy Southern Californians. We

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-66283315771182257892007-12-08T21:24:00.000-07:002007-12-09T09:39:07.567-07:00

A bit of genealogical background on our old friend, Mimi Van Wyck, from the loathsome Harper's Bazaar "A Fashionable Life" issue:Mimi, her mother, Mary Lynn, and her brother, Bronson, share an antique name dating all the way back to when New York was known as New Amsterdam. Big deal. I've got it all over Mimi in the antique name department. This is the Howard University standard. HU was founded

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-27904651369917304532007-12-07T09:44:00.000-07:002007-12-07T11:52:18.566-07:00

I think envy is different from jealousy. Jealousy is when you want something someone else has which you used to have, like your otherwise awesome boyfriend you dumped because he called too much, or your beautiful house you had to give up because your mortgage rate went through the roof. Envy, on the other hand, is wanting that which another person has. Whatever it is they have, it is something

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-74860280975012406352007-12-05T21:55:00.000-07:002007-12-05T22:12:08.497-07:00

Before bursting into song, I will let you know, dear readers, that I dabbled in "diligence" this evening; I washed one-third of my bathroom floor.Then I said to myself, "Aw, fuck it. This is boring."Mordred:Virtue and proper deeds, Your Majesty?Like what? Courage, Milord?Purity and Humility, my liege?Diligence? Charity? Honesty? Fidelity?The seven deadly virtues? No, thank you, Your Majesty.The

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-36115828646337521072007-11-30T10:31:00.001-07:002007-11-30T10:33:01.996-07:00

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-8337694286938239792007-11-25T10:17:00.000-07:002007-11-26T19:49:36.610-07:00

The worst thing a single woman can feel is have an overwhelming need for sex and no outlet. Sure, there are options-- but these options do not fulfill the need completely.Last night at the hostessing job, knowing I'd leave work at approximately 9 pm to travel home to the cold of The Hovel, I felt the frustration rise inside of me. How nice it would be to take a hot shower with a lust object, fall

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-33790093806813433212007-11-22T08:53:00.001-07:002007-11-22T09:11:41.318-07:00

In my life, I have many things for which to be thankful.However today I'm just thankful to have crawled out of my warm bed early enough to shove the turkey in the oven, chop most of the vegetables and arrange the table for ten with my Grandmother's china and my Great-Aunt's silverware.I would have had a glass of wine to start the day off with a bang (it is 9:00 a.m.), but I'm waiting until 11:00

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-21518944226740285442007-11-16T11:29:00.000-07:002007-11-16T14:32:37.608-07:00

After attending the Episcopalian funeral mass of a friend this week, Dad (the non-practicing, non-denominationalist guy) asked me (a baptised Episcopalian), "So why do Episcopalians consider themselves Catholic?""Welllll... it's been a long time since my catechism classes. Let me see if I can explain it properly," I drawled, rolling my eyes to the ceiling. "First, we believe in the Holy Trinity--

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-2469746875625008832007-11-05T21:57:00.001-07:002007-11-06T08:21:25.968-07:00

My nephew G and his cat Inky, Halloween 2007The cat went here and thereAnd the moon spun round like a top,And the nearest kin of the moon,The creeping cat, looked up.Black Minnaloushe stared at the moon,For, wander and wail as he would,The pure cold light in the skyTroubled his animal blood.Minnaloushe runs in the grassLifting his delicate feet.Do you dance, Minnaloushe, do you dance?- Yeats

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-87141319934807743632007-11-01T18:19:00.000-07:002007-11-03T10:38:10.586-07:00

Sunday brunch with Mom.Pushing her wheelchair into the elevator, she mumbled over her shoulder:"I'd like to see your father.""Dad?!? Why?""I don't know," she answered. Then simply, "I just want to see him."Speaking as a woman who has been around the block a couple of times, I can certainly understand being hopelessly in love with one man your entire life. Stuff like that doesn't change.A few

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-36608127008415495472007-10-27T15:02:00.000-07:002007-10-29T22:59:36.876-07:00

Like all couples, my parents' married life was made of good and bad-- good because they had common goals and interests, and bad because Mom and Dad were not suited for one another.Those common goals, luckily for my sisters and me, included raising us well-- which Mom and Dad certainly did.My parents were a united front. Never, ever, could you pit one against the other or manipulate one of them to

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-14080474970910213322007-10-24T19:02:00.000-07:002007-10-24T21:21:01.188-07:00

Mom and Dad were both born in the Midwest. Their backgrounds could not have been more different, although their circumstances started out in a very similar vein.They were born on the same day in 1932, during those dark years of the Depression. Dad was brought up on a small farm in the Detroit area and Mom in Springfield, Illinois, in a bungalow on a tree-lined street. Dad's childhood was a

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-90605413417560968802007-10-11T13:07:00.001-07:002007-10-11T13:33:28.433-07:00

Good morning (T-Bone), Sorry I haven't gotten back to you yet; I don't want you to think it has anything to do with you or your blog. I was very busy yesterday, but of course I could have responded with a quick note but I was reluctant to do so. It would be unfair of me to continue seeing you as I am not emotionally ready apparently, for a relationship (again). I was near panicky deciding what I

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-42688817602348015662007-10-04T09:50:00.000-07:002007-10-04T12:33:44.241-07:00

This has happened to me, although I didn't have a gun. I wanted one, though.The first time was twenty years ago. I was driving home late at night from a friend's house, when I yawned. After yawning, I realized my mouth wouldn't close. My jaw was stuck open, like an entrance to some crazy carnival ride.I pulled into my driveway and sprinted into the house. Roommate Rich sat on the sofa, reading

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-20415980146256946562007-09-29T09:39:00.000-07:002007-09-29T10:33:02.807-07:00

I would have liked my 100th post to be of a more celebratory nature, but screw it. I'm too damned tired. Instead I'll let you, my sweet tonstant weaders, in on the recent happenings in my little universe.First, I'm trying computer dating once again. I've had lots of people look at my profile posted on the dating website, but very few bites. This is fine because the two men with whom I've been

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-69894493852411353992007-09-25T21:28:00.000-07:002007-09-25T21:43:07.092-07:00

Someone who doesn't think I'm completely insane.Someone who likes my incredibly thick, unruly hair; who isn't afraid to run their fingers through it; who likes to brush it.Someone who'll hang out and talk with me in the kitchen with me while I cook.Someone who'll snuggle in our soft, warm bed at night while the snow falls outside the window.Someone who'll let me baby them when they're

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-62389917352336927512007-09-17T11:22:00.000-07:002007-09-17T12:18:18.362-07:00

I'm sure you all have heard by now that O.J. Simpson (a.k.a. "The Murderer") was arrested in Vegas for trying to recoup some personal sports memorabilia he claims was "stolen".Did he send the seller a letter saying, "Please give me my stuff back?" No.Did he stop by the seller's room at the casino and say, "Hey dude. That's my stuff. Could I please have it back?" No.Did he call the LVPD and

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-49945746088908366022007-09-12T06:18:00.000-07:002007-09-12T06:32:47.003-07:00

From CNN:"The tests have shown that the new air-delivered ordnance is comparable to a nuclear weapon in its efficiency and capability," said Col.-Gen. Alexander Rukshin, a deputy chief of the Russian military's General Staff, said in televised remarks.Unlike a nuclear weapon, the bomb doesn't hurt the environment, he added.

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-45808248161831019732007-09-11T14:01:00.001-07:002007-09-11T14:15:54.730-07:00

"The Hamlet Public Works.""Hello. I'm calling about the street closure on the Avenue. When will it be open again?""Well, sir-- the street isn't closed. We're going to be re-surfacing it this week. They are prepping it now. If you need to get up to your house, you should have no problem getting there-- they just let you through. In fact, they're keeping one lane open for that purpose."Long

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-45830922534807319692007-09-11T10:20:00.000-07:002007-09-11T10:27:13.007-07:00

I loved this!LOS ANGELES, California (AP) -- Before Kathy Griffin won a creative artsEmmy last weekend for her reality show, "My Life on the D-List," she joked thatan award would move her to the C-list.Kathy Griffin was pleased to win an Emmy, but her speech will likely be trimmed.She was right: "C" as in censored. The TV academy said her raucous acceptance speech will be edited when the event,

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-8514990773701543122007-09-11T08:55:00.000-07:002007-09-11T09:38:43.402-07:00

Six years ago, I was completely unaware of what was unfolding 2,000 miles to the east.Driving to the office, I noticed many people had their headlights turned on. Was it a holiday I'd forgotten about?I walked into my office, greeted by a ringing phone. It was Walt, one of our clients."Have you been watching the news?""No, why? What's going on?""Two planes crashed into the World Trade Center.

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-2965326974180169542007-09-07T11:45:00.000-07:002007-09-07T12:03:57.122-07:00

Tomorrow night Leslie and I will be going to Hellstrum's CD release party. Together.If you had said to me a year ago, "T-Bone, one year from now Mikey will be dead, you'll become fast friends with his ex-fiance and you'll attend Hellstrum's CD release party together," I would have replied:"Well, first of all, Mikey isn't in a band called Hellstrum. He's in a band called Divine Ruins, and he's

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-92088342520107836012007-09-05T07:57:00.000-07:002007-09-05T11:25:02.283-07:00

I sit here behind my desk stunned. The foundation of my life has been cracked. I will never again view humankind in the same light.Prepare yourselves, readers.According to a new study from Germany, when choosing a partner, men tend to overlook the subtle qualities in a woman and instead simply go for THE HOT WOMAN.http://www.cnn.com/2007/TECH/science/09/04/dating.mating.ap/index.htmlBecause the

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-26762059500834074902007-09-01T21:54:00.000-07:002007-09-01T22:13:52.030-07:00

I've never felt so old. This week's events have finally caught up to me.Normally when I'm dragging my ass I can get a good night's sleep and a decent meal and the following day, I'm full of piss and vinegar. Not so today.Although I slept decently last night, I woke up exhausted. I cleaned my house exhausted. I got ready for work exhausted. My second job (of the dozens) usually leaves me

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-54453229306745607662007-08-31T14:15:00.000-07:002007-08-31T14:20:31.865-07:00

In paradisum deducant te angeli,in tuo adventususcipiant te martyres,et perducant tein civitatem sanctam Jerusalem.Chorus angelorum te suscipiat,et cum Lazaro quondam paupereaeternam habeas requiem.May the angels lead you into paradise,may the martyrs receive youin your coming,and may they guide youinto the holy city, Jerusalem.May the chorus of angels receive youand with Lazarus once poormay you

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-37076270535439115992007-08-30T19:34:00.000-07:002007-08-30T21:12:30.275-07:00

There is a heap of clothing on my bed; it's difficult to know what to wear to a viewing. Jeans are inappropriate. But what if they're nice black jeans? No-- forget that idea. It's ridiculous. My Mom didn't raise me in a barn. A skirt? No-- I don't have the correct underthings for that particular skirt. Finally I decided to dress just for Doris, Mikey's Mom, the original steel magnolia.Driving

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-44348568804102628662007-08-30T09:07:00.000-07:002007-08-30T10:30:49.323-07:00

Mikey's memorial service was held last night. Approximately 150 people attended and were crammed inside the shop like sardines.Candles were distributed to everyone, but mine remained dark. It's sitting on my kitchen counter with a still-fresh wick. Perhaps I will light it sometime this week, in private, as I didn't want to display my emotions at this event.I knew a few people there, but for

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-10808611797221485762007-08-27T16:16:00.000-07:002007-08-27T16:27:18.015-07:00

Why couldn't you have waited two more hours?This morning, I was so happy to find out that you were still here. I even brought a book of Irish poetry to read to you, hoping that the beautiful words you love so much would somehow penetrate the void.But you were gone.Michael Jeffrey PittmanSeptember 18, 1962 - August 27, 2007

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-90204289025144019062007-08-26T15:21:00.000-07:002007-08-31T16:53:14.062-07:00

This is the Amazing Weasel Boy, whom will forever again be known as Mikey.Mikey inspired and encouraged me to write this blog. Sixty-Four Twelve's very first post, "Silvercliff", was about our daytrip there.As you can see from the picture above, Mikey is a musician-- a percussionist and drummer-- and an excellent one at that. He is a late bloomer, having realized his calling just twenty short

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-34701958392472602522007-08-20T19:51:00.000-07:002007-08-20T20:49:00.232-07:00

Because I work for The Hamlet's Public Works Department, I have access to all kinds of nifty things-- weed-whackers, tools, chainsaws, bulldozers, etc. By far the coolest thing we have is a street sign maker. Because my previous no parking sign was torn down by the angry man whose car I vandalized after he thoughtlessly parked in my space, I was thinking it'd be fun to make a new sign for my

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-62442345756635857742007-08-19T10:08:00.000-07:002007-08-19T12:25:06.277-07:00

Each year for the last five decades, The Hamlet becomes the epicenter of the running world during the third weekend in August, hosting two grueling marathon races. To this I say:"I fucking hate the third weekend in August."Here’s the funny thing—I used to run. In fact, I used to be a jock in the complete sense of the word. Over the years, I’ve turned away from athletics. I don’t watch sports on

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-18189419044677191702007-08-17T10:29:00.000-07:002007-08-17T11:13:44.352-07:00

After a dinner date and a lunch date, I thought it was time to have Biggy over for dinner to show him appreciation for the feeding of moi."What would you like for dinner?" I asked him."Oh, whatever you'd like to cook is fine. I love all food.""Okay. How about pasta?""Yeah! Pasta sounds good.""Well, I'll make some pasta," I decided, "And we'll have a nice quiet dinner at my house.""That sounds

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-31732385112561005122007-08-12T08:42:00.001-07:002007-08-12T21:41:22.674-07:00

I have a few Achillies' heels (don't we all) but the one that certainly haunts me the most is the fact that I've never married nor have I had children. In a world filled with couples-- couples with children, couples without children, couples' vacations, tables for two, bicycles built for two, articles about raising children, articles about keeping your marriage hot, articles about retiring with

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-79880236427981242792007-08-04T20:58:00.000-07:002007-08-04T21:15:20.398-07:00

From Nathaniel Philbrick's Mayflower: A Story of Courage, Community and War:"To their amazement and delight... (the Fortune) proved to be an English ship... with thirty-seven passengers aboard. In an instant, the size of the colony had almost doubled..."Everyone aboard the Fortune was in good health... many of them single men... (w)ith the arrival of the Fortune, there would be a total of

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-48148003690578339102007-08-01T19:04:00.000-07:002007-08-01T19:19:08.944-07:00

When my 9 year-old nephew's birthday was looming on the calendar, I was ruminating about what I should get him as a gift. I thought and thought and thought, and finally, I just asked him:"Max, what do you want for your birthday, sweetie?"He rolled his brown eyes up to the ceiling and pondered."I don't know," he answered. "But the minute I decide, I'll tell you."The birthday got closer and

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-23077458265662476782007-07-30T22:57:00.001-07:002007-07-31T16:11:14.961-07:00

Behold the beautiful English jazz singer Amy Winehouse; she of the hazel eyes, full lips, tousled-because-she-just-had-a-wild-romp-in-bed-with-a-man hair and perfectly, fantastically-shaped eyebrows. People-- this girl can wail. Her voice is sexy, deep, and it's got a sound behind it that's soulful and worldly. Perfection!But look what happens when a woman gets ground up in the celebrity mince

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36089585.post-7331030243600790052007-07-21T14:31:00.001-07:002007-07-21T15:12:46.357-07:00

Once a week, for the last three weeks, I've emailed my former Lust Object (now known as "Weasel Boy") asking him to return the Ken Burns' Civil War tapes which he borrowed. He responded to the first email, "Thanks for reminding me. I'll get them to you." The second email didn't generate a response. The third email prompted this: "They're in my car. I'll get them to you."Today I came home from

T-Bonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18136798296404367839noreply@blogger.com0