Walk down memory lane - the Towel Incident

There are times when a memory will just sneak up on you and jump to the front of your brain and today I reminisced over the Towel Incident.

I was 18, getting close to graduation, and had been dating a 15 year old for about 2 weeks.  Her name was Heidi and she and I were in the midst of a relationship that lasted about a month.  Maybe it was that I was older or maybe she was just aggressive but one evening we found ourselves in my room making out, with my parents nowhere to be seen.

I am not an idiot so for anyone reading this that thinks Statutory Rape, please know that wasn't an issue and I was keeping it that way.  But we were having a good time and it was slightly more illicit in the fact that I knew I shouldn't have had her at my house.  My parents probably didn't even know I was dating anyone, much less a 15 year old.

I estimate that we had been in my room about 30 minutes when I heard the front door open and I realized I was screwed.  My bedroom was at the end of the hall and the only exits were my door and my window.  The window was out of the question the second I heard not only my parents, but my aunt, sit down in the kitchen.  My bedroom window opened right next to the kitchen window so movement would have been noticed.  Alternately, to leave meant walking right next to the kitchen.  I was trapped.

I waited a few minutes before I decided to go out and say hello to everyone.  Due to my parents smoking habit, I was known to stay shut in my room with the door closed at all times so my absences wasn't questioned, even though my pick up outside told them I was home.  I exchanged pleasantries with everyone and racked my brain for a way to figure out how to get Heidi out of my room.  We couldn't wait them out as she had a curfew and my parents can sit for hours drinking, smoking and talking.  Then I remembered "The Towel".

I exclaimed to my aunt, "Aunt Mickey, did you see my graduation present?".  You see, a family friend of ours had a tradition to give any graduate a towel with their name embroidered on it.  It was a fairly large towel, around 5 feet long, and I had gotten mine a few weeks back.  She said, "No" and I said, "Well let me show it to you".  I ran back to my room and quickly explained the plan to Heidi.

I grabbed the towel, walked back out into the hallway, and held the towel up in the doorway of the kitchen.  The towel was just big enough that when I intentionally let it touch the floor, the doorway was completely obstructed.  Heidi took the opportunity to run past the door and to the front entry way.  I waited a moment, told them I had to go meet someone or some other excuse that I no longer recall, threw the towel in my room, and left the house, taking Heidi out the door with me.

Did my parents know what was happening?  I don't think so.  I haven't thought to ask them but I still have that towel and from time to time that whole situation comes back to me and makes me laugh.

That is all,

Newt

I went to Austin and all I got was this Awesome shirt...and a bunch of comics

Diana, Grace and I decided to go on a weekend trip to Austin this weekend, in part to go to STAPLE. It is a small press/independent media expo that features comic book and I was extremely interested in going to see a couple of my favorite creators, Brian Clevinger and Scott Wegener.  They created Atomic Robo, which is one of the best comics out there. 

We drove in to Austin on Saturday and went straight to the center the show was being held at.  I wasn't expecting to spend a lot of time there, and after about an hour and a half, we were done.  I hit the Atomic Robo table first and cleaned up with a bunch of stuff.  A couple of trades, a free comic, some autographs, and this awesome sketch.

We then went walking around as there were a few books I wanted to pick up. I got,

and

and

not to mention I found this awesome print of Cookie Monster.

 

and I got this funny shirt.



Diana was happy that we didn't stay for hours and hours and I had a good time.  Gracie was a big hit once we got her out of the stroller.  She wouldn't stop gibber-jabbering and people were eating it up.  This was her first(of many) cons and it was a great way to get her started on them.  

That is all,

Newt

Tootles

So, as part of my weight loss challenge I have been spending time at the gym and Sunday, I may or may not have embarrassed myself.

I was 20 minutes into my elliptical use and I went to change the page on my Nook when suddenly I hear a very loud fart.  I looked around to see who it was and as I smelled it I realized it was ME!  It just slipped out, I swear. 

As I smelled what I had produced, my gaze slowly darted to my left and right.  A woman was standing two machines away from me and I couldn't tell if she heard it or not.  My eyes returned to my book and I made no recognition of what happened and prayed that I wasn't now looked at as the stinky guy on the elliptical machine.

That is all

Newt

Weight loss challenge

So, you know how I am fat?  Well, not for long bitches!  I went on a weight loss kick a while back before Grace was born and dropped about 20 lbs.  I have kept off about 15 of those but a while back my doctor told me I should really be in the 200 lb range.  Well, I always intended to get there but Grace takes up a lot of time, who knew? So, I slipped and stopped behaving myself and didn't visit that lovely gym I spend $30 a month to be a member of.

Well, it just so happens Erin moved back to town and is getting hitched and wants to lose some weight for her wedding, and maybe just in general.  So, I threw down a challenge. I am super competitive and bullheaded and decided if I was competing with someone, I would be more inclined to drop the pounds.  Last Monday we kicked off our Biggest Loser challenge to see who can be the thinnest.

We are weighing in every two weeks, calculating percentage lost, and the loser of that weigh in has to buy the winner something.  That part is kind of vague.  But it allows for the competition side of things to stay fresh, it allows us to be constantly in battle, and it allows for prizes.

So far, things have gone OK.  I visited the gym a few times and ate poorly instead of incredibly poorly.  I started counting calories again and made a few good decisions along the way.  However I also made some bad ones.

Here is my shame:

• 10 beers and a huge burger while in Houston
• Whataburger for breakfast on Wednesday and Thursday while in Houston
• Mexican food for lunch and dinner on Friday, with 7 beers in the evening
• An entire giant size box of Nerds on Saturday

So, will I win the upcoming weigh in? Who knows.  I am not sure what Erin has done but I hope for my sake she fails miserably, and I hope for her sake that she wins.

That is all,

Newt

Hey People, there's an order to things

Yesterday, I was chatting with a fellow blogger, Lola Lakely, and we were discussing many things, but one thing that came up was how hard it is to take care of something. Lola just got a puppy and I just had a baby and she was saying how it is a new experience to have something that relies on you. She immediately threw in, "We got a puppy, and not that it's the same thing but trying to figure out what she wants is hard."

And she is right.

Being a parent is hard. It is hard when you are a fur parent and it is harder when you are a full time parent. So, as we were chatting, I wrote down some rules for her to get tattooed on her arm as a sort of checklist. This is really a set of hard to figure out steps that people might want to know.

Step 1. Meet a mate. This is gender neutral and if you end up with a set of points or a set of holes, it makes no difference.
Step 2. Live together. This may go against some of your religious beliefs. If so, move step 4 between steps 1 and 2 but do not move past Step 4. You aren't ready yet.
Step 3. Get a Pet. Ever cared for another living thing? No. Well try it with an animal. Cats don't count. If you kill it, maybe you should think long and hard before procreating.
Step 4. Marry. Yes, I am throwing convention into the wind and actually suggesting you get married before you have a kid. And I have a great reason why.
Step 5 If you can do all that then you can have a kid

So, if you have done all of these steps you are probably pretty happy. There are exceptions to that rule because some people just don't work out but for the most part, I would stake money on this system. I haven't figured out how to market it yet but I am getting there.

Here is the logic behind my 5 step method.

You need a mate before you can move past step one.
Living together will teach you patience. Dating someone is not the same as living with them and even though they may have a tooth brush at your house, there are two people you are dating. One is the person you have over, and one is the person who is at home.

Pets teach responsibility and selflessness. You can't just run away for the weekend when you have a pet. Someone has to take care of them so they either go with you, causing you to be responsible even on vacation, or you pay someone to take them in which case you just got your first taste of daycare.

Marring teaches commitment. Sure, marriage teaches you all sorts of things, but by saying, "I Do" you are committing to something in a way you have never done before. I bought an extended warranty on a TV once that was 3 years. I have bought cars that I still drive. I even signed a 30 year note on a house, but at the end of the day a marriage is supposed to be a lifelong commitment and if you can keep it in your pants, it will be.

So, that brings us to kids. If you have patience, responsibility, selflessness and commitment, you can handle being a parent. It isn't an easy job, and some days you might wonder how you made it through another day, but it is worth every minute of it. As for why you should get married before you have a kid, having two people to raise a child is for the benefit of the child, but also for the people raising it. It is backup when you most need it and it is relief to know that if it gets to hard, someone is always there to support you.

That is all,
Newt

Disclaimer: I understand their are single parents out there. Their job is twice as hard and I would bet that most would all agree with my rules. Choosing to be a single parent is like painting a house. One person can do it, but it is a lot easier if you have help.

Selfishness, also known as Solitude

I spent the entire day yesterday just for myself and it was amazing. This might be called selfish, or lazy but it matters not to me. I woke up to help Diana get Gracie ready for her first day of daycare and then the rest of the day was mine.

I had yesterday off and I spent it thus:

I went and tried the new Spicy Chicken biscuit at Chick-Fil A and it was pretty good. I have a hard time getting my head around chicken for breakfast but it was still tasty. I would rather have had the spicy sandwich.

I came home and played 3 hours of 'Epic Mickey' which is a phenomenally addictive game. I purchased a bean bag chair for the occasion, and after awaiting Christmas Day to get the game, my ass made quite an indention in the chair.

I went and ate Rosa's Tacos for lunch and followed it up with a screening of 'Tangled' which was very good. Much more enjoyable than I thought it might be. The movie, not the tacos.

I came home and read "Turning Angel" by Greg Iles for about an hour.

I spent two more hours playing 'Epic Mickey'.

At four I went and received Gracie from daycare,

For eight hours I didn't have to be a parent, a husband, an employee, a homeowner, or a cook. I got to be Trinity "Lazy Ass" Vaughn and it made me feel like my old self. The same guy who stood in line in the cold for hours the day the Nintendo Wii came out; the same guy that used to go to midnight showings for movies; the same guy who had time to read an entire book in a day because his life was so unrestricted.

I entered back into my new life at four, and I was very happy to see my little girl. I wouldn't trade my life for anything but it is nice to be able to step out of it for a while to appreciate where I have been. Sometimes it feels like life is on the path of who we are becoming and we don't get enough of a chance to remember where who we used to be.

That is all,

Newt

Things an old man wants for Christmas

1. Battery Organizer - "There are batteries everywhere. I just want something where I can put all my batteries." - Newt the Wonder Frog

2. Flyswatter - "This may seem lame but I want a flyswatter. Just a plain old plastic swatter." - Newt the Wonder Frog

I am an old man. I want gifts for Christmas that are practical. How sad is that? More and more I just want to skip Christmas. I went and bought myself the battery organizer and my junk drawer has never looked better. All those batteries now have a home and I won't have to search through the drawer when one of Gracie's numerous battery draining toys goes dead.

Still no flyswatter but I figure it is perfect for a stocking so maybe I still have a chance.

That is all,

Newt

Did I shave my chest for this?

I may have made a grave error in judgement.

I was laying in bed last night while Diana was feeding the baby and decided that today was the day that I was going to shave my chest. Why? Hell if I know. I just did. I haven't looked down to see a hairless chest since before puberty and whenever I hold Gracie she has a tendency to grab fist fulls of my luscious sweater and pull on them. So I thought, "Why not?"

It took about 15 minutes in all and I was very surprised to see how incredibly pale I am. I am used to seeing dark hair all over so to look in the mirror and see a nice yellowish pink is shocking. I didn't tell Diana what I did and waited until she was getting ready for bed and walked in. She looked at me and instantly did a double take and exclaimed, "You are so pale."

I sit here today with regret as I feel the gristly sensation of my shirt rubbing against my stubble. I didn't use a razor to shave, just my beard trimmer, so it isn't smooth at all. I am afraid to hold Grace without a shirt on for fear she will either latch to my man-boob or get razor burn from my skin. I was going to post a picture of what I now look like but it might be looked at as pornographic since I resemble a naked fat chick from the waist up.

Also, there were apparently some stretch marks that I was unaware of that the hair has been hiding and I don't want those out there for the world to see.

That is all,

Newt

My Fresh Prince remake

This is a story all about how
my life got flipped, turned upside down
so I'd like to take a minute, just sit right there
to tell you how I became the dad of a little baby girl.
(musical interlude)

In West Texas oil land, born and raised
in the comic shops where I spent most of my days
Hanging out, reading and excelling in school
and then eating like crazy til I was real full

When I headed to Tech just to get me some smarts
went to a party where the drunk girls are
I got in one drinking game and my fate was shut
She said were making out tonight but not before I throw up
(musical interlude again)

I challenged her to date me and oh what a dear
her degree plan said Accounting and she had junk in the rear
If anything I could say that this girl was rare
so I thought, Dallas rocks and I made my home there(with her)

5 years later, I pulled up to the hospital just around 8
and I yelled at my wife, Shit were having a baby
Gracie came in the morning, kid was finally here
and since then she has been under our care.

That is all,

Newt

My EYES!!!!!!!!

Let's get real for a moment.

My wife had a kid. I was there. It was gross. Here's why.

First, I was there when the water broke. I wrote a bit about why this is probably the most frightening thing to me in a previous post. Here's what happened.

We had a great nurse, Christa, who had been with us since we got to the hospital. She was the one checking Diana's vitals, dilation and overall just keeping us sane. One thing I never thought I would see was a woman sticking her hand into my wife's vagina. It isn't as hot as it sounds, though Christa was a cutie. Instead I got to here things like, "Dang there is a huge sack up there. It is tough. I'm going to try to pop it." And I stopped myself from saying, "That's what she said," though I wanted to soooooo bad.

Christa wasn't able to pop Diana's water though and I was entirely thankful for that. I had huddled into a corner with my back to them as she kept trying to do this, all the while holding down the urge to gag.

Diana was trying to deliver our child naturally and was a trooper all the way up til about 7 cm. Then the pain go enough that she finally caved and got an epidural. This turned out to be a godsend but at the time we just thought it would be helpful. Once Diana hit 9 cm, good old Christa was back. How she didn't loose a ring up in Diana's pelvis I will never know but she got her hand up in there pretty high. I had let my guard down when all of a sudden, Spoosh. A gush of water shot out and around Christa's wrist as her prodding had literally burst Diana's bubble. I jumped up and back when the liquid sprayed the bed and turned and faced the wall. Christa and Diana were amused. I was not. Why does irony have to be so transparent?

That is all,

Newt

Fatherhood: It's a funny thing

I became a father a few days ago. That is something kind of crazy to say. It happened like this.

I was really getting excited to go have a few beers and meet up with our friend Erin at a local restaurant to watch the Texas Tech v. Iowa State game. Diana hadn't been feeling all that great but seemed to be OK with taking the trip. We loaded in the car and I drove us down there. The place was packed. Parking was a madhouse and neither of us was too thrilled to fight that madness. She told me that we should just go home because she really wasn't feeling right. I obliged. I mean, what else do you do when your 39 week pregnant wife says she isn't feeling good?

We returned home and finished watching the UT v OU game and Diana stressed that she felt that the pain she was having was coming pretty frequently. We got my phone out and started timing what we later realized to be contractions. She had had some false pains a few weeks ago and they went away when she walked so we decided to stroll up and down the block to see if they would go away. The timing was fairly consistent and after about half an hour of 5 to 7 minutes spaces between contractions, we decided this might be a real thing we should really go get the car packed up.

I have to say I remained incredibly calm. I honestly thought it would be a false alarm. I was getting hungry and our route to the hospital is right by a Chick-fil-A so I weighed the options and asked, "Would it be entirely insensitive of me to ask if I could stop for dinner?" Diana let me and it turned out to be a good thing I did.

We got to the hospital and confirmed that we were in fact in labor and took our place in a room to wait out the inevitable. It was an exhausting night but I stepped up. I will go into some of the more humorous details in a later post but I was up the entire night and into the morning with Diana and after 3 hours of pushing it was determined that the baby would not come out by mere pushing alone. A C-section was in order.

I was nervous for the first time. We had been up all night and now at 8 A.M. we were being wheeled in to an operating room. My baby girl was born at 8:51 A.M. and I am now a father. Yep, still sounds crazy.

That is all,

Newt

Insensitivity

Can someone please explain to me why it is considered insensitive to say, "I am afraid my huge baby is going to ruin my wife's pleasure zone"? I have had two groups of people tell me this is not right to say, however I don't understand why.

One, it is not insensitive. If my pleasure zone, aka my wife's lady area, is destroyed I am not the only one who will be affected by it. Diana will be traumatized detrimentally by the fact that it has been ruined. She will get that thing where you pee when you sneeze and I haven't heard of any woman saying that is a pleasant experience.

Two, I just flat out don't want my dang fat ole' baby to be so big and cause so many problems for Diana. Bigger is usually better except on birth weight. Then it is not preferred.

Sure there is a selfish reason too. If that thing gets all stretched out it wouldn't be the best thing in the world. I saw something about how a ladies area goes back to almost normal in a few days after birth but come on! How can that be? You just pushed a baby through there! If i pushed a baby through the tip of my junk there is no way it would ever work the same again.

Newt

Water Wait

As some of you know, my wife is carrying our first child and is about a week and a half out from her due date. We have been looking forward to this for some time but over the last couple of weeks I have started to become unreasonably worried about something, her water breaking.

I am disgusted by the thought of it. I understand it is part of the process and Diana insists that only about 5 to 10% of women's waters actually break on their own but I am so disturbed at the thought that at 3 a.m. I am going to feel a wet sensation on my leg and wake up to a water bed of internal lady goo. And there is that old camp trick that people play where they put your hand in water to make you pee on yourself. What if that happens?

Gwack! I almost threw up in my mouth. Uhhhh.

Why is this so gross? Will we be out somewhere and suddenly be standing in a puddle. I hope her water doesn't break because if it does it might be followed by me screaming like a girl and that is not something I want people to see.

That is all,

Newt

The Man I want to be

I have an image of the person I expected to be at 30. This man is not overweight, can play the banjo, is an avid reader and writer, and an amazing father. I decided a while back that I am nowhere close to being this man. I am losing weight but haven't hit the goal yet, I can't play a musical instrument to save my life, and I have about a month until we figure out that whole fatherhood thing. In my plus column I do read like there is no tomorrow and have begun writing a bit. Oh, and this man drives an orange and black El Camino. Diana refuses to let me get that part of it.

I went on Tuesday and bought myself the Complete Idiot's Guide to Learning Guitar on CD rom and am trying it. I played "Jingle Bells" yesterday without any real issues, so hopefully I can commit to this and use the guitar that my father graciously bought me 7 years ago. If I can get proficient I am getting myself a banjo. I dream of being able to play "The Rainbow Connection" to my kids and ever since Doug Funny, I have always wanted this skill. Maybe that also stems from my Kermit the Frog addiction.

I just celebrated my 28th birthday. I have 2 years to become this person that I want to be. I think it is possible. I know the weight loss is and if I stick to it, guitar can be too. We shall see.

That is all,

Newt

The Dinner Project

Diana and I attended a very cool event last week. A few friends of mine from my book club were feeling lazy or something and instead of just reading a book or going to see a movie, they decided to fund a nonprofit charity called The Dinner Project. They hold a monthly dinner event and pick a charity that is dear to their heart. Then they invite everyone to bring a dish and ask you to donate what you would normally spend for dinner to the charity and everyone gets to eat and meet new people.

We went to their very first event on August 27th for a charity called Bead for Life. This is a very cool charity out of Africa that sells hand made jewelry. Below is the write up for the charity.

BeadforLife eradicates extreme poverty by creating bridges of understanding between impoverished Africans and concerned world citizens. Ugandan women turn colorful recycled paper into beautiful beads, and people who care open their hearts, homes and communities to buy and sell the beads.

The beads thus become income, food, medicine, school fees and hope. It is a small miracle that enriches us all.

The fare was all themed to African cuisine and Diana and I contributed with something called African Black Bean Fritters that we made ourselves. We got to try some new foods that I would never have tried otherwise and Diana spent some dough on new jewelry for a good cause. The first event made them about $2500 which is a pretty good initial offering. We are looking forward to the next event that is benefiting a local Dallas charity for abused children.

Thought I would share this with everyone to show that people can make a difference.

That is all,

Newt

Admiral Ronald

I got this yesterday. I am very surprised that emails like this are still being sent. I also love the name.

Dear Friend,

I hope this mail finds you well. Admiral Ronald is my name and i am writing to direct an urgent financial proposal to you .

I would be needing your attention to assist me in making claim of some funds, Owing to the urgency of this financial transaction,i would appreciate an immediate response from you to confirm the receipt of my mail.Also forward to me your private email ID, to enable me furnish you with details of the transaction, I hope i can trust you.

Kind regards,

Admiral Ronald.

That is all,

Newt

We have been spending a bit more time in the baby room and the dogs, in turn, have also been spending time in there. We aren't sure how they will handle the baby but if they act like this then we are going to be in trouble.

Diana showed Hazel how she could get underneath the baby's crib. Hilarity ensued.



That is all,

Newt

Throwaway

He entered her world wrapped in arms that smelled like cotton candy with a hint of sweat. After hanging from a small white hook in the carnival barker area, he heard the pop of one, two, and then finally three balloons. As her father’s index finger swiped the air, he could only hope that this would be his chance for freedom, and more importantly love. The carnie reached up and grabbed his neighbor and as the disappointment of another night in the air settled back into its permanent home, the yell of the girl, Annabelle, pierced through the sound of buzzers and bells from the nearby rides.

“Not that one!” she exclaimed. “I want the orange one.”

Weightlessness engulfed him as he was freed from the hook and slowly lowered down into her waiting arms. She squealed with delight and wrapped herself around him.

“What’s his name, honey?” her father asked.

“Leland,” she replied, and so he had a name.

The rest of the night was a blur. Leland accompanied Annabelle on the “Love Ship” and at one point was almost lost to the night sky after a sharp turn on the “Roller Cart,” but as she fell asleep strapped into her car seat at the end of the night, he felt at peace to finally have a home.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Five years passed, and Leland is now where most of his kind ends up. After a few weeks of pleasantness, he began to be forgotten. He sat unplayed with on her bed and at times was remanded to the floor. Soon, he was moved to the closet to join the other “throwaways.” That is what they called themselves, those unloved toys. There was the bulldog from the crane game, the Happy Meal bean bag dolphin, and the knock off Snoopy from some theme park. Their stitching wasn’t as strong, their fabric more flammable.

All had been something she had “had to have” and so her parents relented. That is to say her father relented. Everyone had stories of how the mother was always saying, “She doesn’t need another stuffed animal,” but the father just went and got her what she wanted anyway. In a way, the banishment to the closet was proof that the mother was right. They weren’t needed.

Light entered through a sliver between the closet’s double doors. Lately, there was more activity on the other side of the dark. Sure, they got to see the room once or twice a day, but mostly they sat in darkness marked with the occasional days where the closet light was left on. However, now there was a constant breaking of the sliver as some small thing kept walking by the door. It couldn’t have been more than a foot or two tall, and it would sometimes stop and sniff the bottom of the door before walking away. The throwaways became frightened.

It was a few days before the shadow was identified. The door was opened, and a small dog ran across the room. It looked similar to the bulldog but less wrinkled and was, clearly, not purple. It seemed the family had gotten a new pet for Annabelle, and the throwaways could see that while they were in the closet, being outside of it was even worse. The dog had one of their comrades in its mouth and was greatly thrashing it about. Worse, it didn’t seem to bother the family at all and they even found it to be cute. What was once a happy sound now held to it an eerie quality, those “ahs” they exhaled.

“Were they next?” thought the throwaways. It was only a matter of time. What could they do, stuck in the closet like this? Luck was the only thing that saved them from their fate. A week later they were all thrown into a cardboard box marked “Garage Sale,” and on Saturday they spent the entire day outside under the blistering sun. One by one, grubby hands reached in and pulled them out for inspection before being brought to someone to ask: “Can I get this? It’s only $1.” Invariably the purchaser would haggle until each of the throwaways was gone, all except Leland.

As the sale dwindled down and the family began to pack up the unsold refuse, Leland felt sad. What did this mean? Would he return to the closet or possibly be donated to someone? As his box was lifted, the father realized only Leland resided inside and decided to just remove him. He was carried into the house where Leland saw the new pet and a premonition flashed across his felt eyes. He knew his fate, even before the father did.

“GEORGE! Dammit, I told you not to chew on the newspaper! Why do you insist on tearing it up? Here, if you are going to chew on something, chew on this.”

Leland felt that three foot fall as if it lasted for days. As soon as he hit the ground the mongrel was on him. This George, as he was called, began dragging Leland around the living room. Leland’s last visit to the living room involved hugs and kisses; now teeth and paws tore at him. The dog grabbed hold of Leland’s neck and began thrashing him about and tossing him into the air. At one point, Leland was sure the suffering was over, but the dog returned from the kitchen with water dripping from his lips and the attack commenced.

As the hearing on his right side vanished, Leland realized his ear had just been removed. Slowly, his peripheral vision began to pick up white stuffing. He was being pulled apart. A light headedness overtook him, and as he lay in a puddle of his own stuffing, the most unlikely of saviors arrived. The mother swept in and picked him up. She began yelling at George, and when the father started laughing, she turned her attention to him.

“Why did you give this to him? Look at this mess? God! There is stuffing everywhere. “

The back door opened and the mother carried Leland outside. He was not sure what else could be done to him but he was still happy to be away from the dog. He saw that she had gathered his stuffing up in her other hand and was surprised to see so much of it. Had he really lost that much of himself? The mother exited the back gate and walked Leland out to the garbage can. He realized at that moment that the name he and the other forgotten toys had given themselves had become reality. He had become a real life throwaway.

The above story was inspired by the image below.

Written by Trinity Vaughn

Kurt Vonnegut, I love you

I have written of my love of Kurt Vonnegut on previous posts but I started his next to last book today called Armageddon in Retrospect, and it has caused me to want to tell you all how much Vonnegut means to me.



I read my first Vonnegut about 5 years ago and that was by reading Slaughterhouse Five. We didn't read it in High School, which I now understand was a shame and that high schoolers who get the privilege are lucky. It prompted a post about the book and also a search for all the Vonnegut I could get my hands on. I now own about 85% of his works and have read quite a few, but not all. I like my Vonnegut in doses.

The thing I enjoy most about Kurt Vonnegut, and maybe this turns others off to his works, is the way he puts the words on paper. They enjoy the asides of writing that allow a simple conversation to be in progress and then have it deviate with a few marks to become a smart comment on how things don't make sense. Then right back to the story as if it weren't interrupted.

He also mixes realism with fantasy in a way that no one else I have ever read has been able to do. To have chapters set in a war and then find the main character has been transported to an alien planet where he and an actress are being studied, and then having him flash back was something I didn't expect or could have come up with myself. Chuck Palahniuk is the closest writer to come to this level of genius/madness, which is probably why I also own everything he has written.

I really wanted to share a quote from one of the stories in the book that is actually from a speech written for a commencement at Clowes Hall, Indianapolis. "...If anyone here should wind up on a gurney in a lethal injection facility, maybe the one at Terre Haute, here is what your last words should be: "This will certainly teach me a lesson."

You could always understand what Vonnegut meant or felt from such a small amount of words. They always say more that what is on the page.

The day he died I was sitting at my computer at work and it flashed across the screen and I cried. I don't get emotional about a lot of things but this was one of those times where if someone had come up to me I would have been proud to show this emotion as it was a loss that really did affect me. I can't say that about many other things.

That is all,

Newt

Facing the facts

Fact: everyone you know is on Facebook.
Fact: I am not on Facebook which means the above fact is not a fact.
Fact: I am now on Facebook which means fact one is now true and fact two is no longer a fact.

I gave in to the powers of Facebook today. Why? A few reasons. I am not a large fan of the social network and can proudly say I never had a MySpace account, Sorry Tom, but Facebook has become more and more of a factor in everyday life. My kickball team organizes through it and then emails the nonconformists, people no longer have real conversations which causes my wife to ask me all the time why such and such is doing something and I am left not knowing what she is talking about, and even my local comic shop is on it and gave away Scott Pilgrim sneak peek passes and I didn't know about it.

The final straw came yesterday when I was prepping the invite for the 3nd annual White Trash Bash. I needed a few emails and didn't have them. which meant I had to go to Diana's Facebook account and sending the invite through there. More and more I am being forced to use it and I am finally tired of pushing against a wave.

So, if you want to be my friend on Facebook, I can now be found by searching Trinity Vaughn. I am probably going to regret this later but I guess for now I am tired of walking and will be catching a ride on the bandwagon.

That is all,

Newt