Life And Loss

As I have gotten older, life has become more about loss and how to deal with it than anything else. I have lost six friends in nine months and I believe they become more painful with each passing one. Contrary to the times, none have been COVID-19 related. Three died from cancer, one from a genetic heart condition, and two from being lifelone alcoholics. The two dying from alcoholism probably hurt more than anything as I tried to help both of them get the professional help they needed. The odds are astronoimical that I lose that many friends in a years time as I am only in my mid-50's. I have fond memories of all of my friends that I have lost and it is those memories that keep them alive for me. I have thought about them often this year and I tell stories about them frequently and I believe it would make them happy to know that they can still make me laugh. I have often heard that laughter is the best medicine and I have definitely put that to the test over the past nine months.

The Death of Steve

I found out about a month ago that my old roommate "Steve" passed away over a year ago. I wanted to take this opportunity to write a memorial for him because he was a unique character if there ever was one. Most of his legendary exploits revolved around his use of alcohol and God knows I have enough stories to tell. He reminded me a lot of the "Samurai" character that John Belushi played on Saturday Night Live. Steve was an interior decorator, a chef, a dancer, an outdoorsman, and a dog walker. He also specialized in drunken road trips where he did all of the drinking. Steve basically had a good heart and he did the best he could do which I guess is all you can expect from someone. I lost touch with Steve the last couple of years of his life but I don't think he changed much. Dealing with Steve could be a drain at times and could for damn sure be aggravating but I should have done a better job of keeping in touch. Steve knew I wanted to be a writer and he always suggested that I write about him because he was so fascinating. I wrote a lot of stories about him but I don't think he knew it. It is time to cue up AC/DC's "Have a Drink On Me." To Steve! Salud!

Rudolph The Acrobat

Most heavy drinkers are quite acrobatic in their movements and there was one night in particular where Rudolph's skills as an acrobat were on full display. I came home from shopping late one Friday night and Rudolph was just winding up his night's activities. I start unloading the bags of groceries from my car and my roommate was watching Rudolph and suddenly she yelled "He is going to fall."

That caught my attention and right as I looked up and sure enough, Rudolph starts the slow motion dance that only people that are very drunk can do. He tried catching his balance but there was no balance to be had. By the time he made it to the top step, it became time to watch the train wreck. Rudolph had on a bright green shirt so he was easy to watch. He fell down the four steps end-over-end and he hit his head really hard twice. As he lay motionless at the bottom of his steps, my roommate, who is a CNA, yells out "Oh my God! We have to go see if he is okay."

My response was "Oh, hell no. I am not going through this shit again. He is not my problem." She implored me to go with her to check on him as "he might be dead." Once again, it was not my problem but out of humanitarian concerns, I stood at the end of my driveway and I yelled out "Are you OK?" several times until he started stirring at the bottom of the steps. My roommate was already halfway through his yard when he started pulling himself up using the railing on his steps. He was very shaky but very much alive. Problem solved.

The next morning Rudolph did not make it out of the house until about lunchtime but he was moving around better than I was. I believe I need to start drinking what he is drinking.

Just Another Steve

My living circumstances have changed a couple of different times over the course of the past year but one thing seems to remain a constant. The one thing seems to be no matter where I go, I find someone who insists on going thru life sauced. First it was my roommate Steve, and now it is my neighbor Rudolph.

Rudolph is prone to having these drunken fits where he rages against the world on his front porch every night about 9 PM and philosophizes on the meaning of life shortly after his rant. Rudolph then gets the party started by playing bad music while sitting in his car in his driveway and smoking a joint. Sometimes he knocks off his deejaying about 11 but sometimes he is feeling his groove and keeps it going until 2 in the morning.

Rudolph sleeps until 10 AM, he might work for three hours, he takes a five hour nap in the afternoon, and he is ready to go again. It is great work if you can get it. There is an old saying that goes something like "God looks out for drunks and fools" and you must be especially blessed if can wear both of those hats.

Politics And Strip Clubs

Every time an election rolls around, strip clubs and their patrons become easy targets for politicians especially at the local and the state level. The state of Georgia is trying to pass a state amendment that would charge strip clubs a $5000 yearly tax to stay in business. This tax would supposedly go towards helping to stop sex trafficking. Politicians are blaming sex trafficking on strip clubs. The state of California is always after the porn industry even though it brings the state in millions of dollars in tax money. A few years ago the state of Texas tried to institute a "pole tax" that would directly tax strip clubs and their customers.

The politicians need to leave strip clubs alone. If you do not want to go in them, stay home, go to a ball game, do something with your family or whatever. No one is forcing you to go in there. The women I know that work in strip clubs make much better money in there than they could as a cashier at Wal-Mart. If they want to place the blame on anything, blame alcohol for spousal abuse, child abuse, drunk driving, and bring back Prohibition. Let's see how well that would go over.

Nice Guys Finish Last

Legendary Baseball manager Leo Durocher is credited with coming up with the concept of "nice guys finish last." Mr. Durocher believed that nice guys did not have or do all of the dirty work that it took to win games. A lot of people apply that same concept to life. How does that concept apply to me? Am I a nice guy or am I that guy?

Public opinion seems to be mixed on that question but according to most that have weighed in, I am a little bit nice guy and a little bit that guy. How is that combination working for me you ask? Not too good. It seems that the people that I want to think I am a nice guy end up thinking I am that guy and the people that I could care less what they think believe I am a little bit of both. Someone recently advised me to "be myself" and it ended up coming out a combination of nice guy/that guy. That's ok though, because I wouldn't have me any other way.

That Guy: The Mentor

I take my job as a mentor very seriously. Some guys want to be sleazy but they just don't know how. It is my job as That Guy and as a mentor to give these poor saps life advice and point them in the right direction so they can achieve at least some of their sleazy goals.

I had two men come to me the other day for life advice. One is 31 years old, a hard working young man with a good job, one of those glamorous kind of jobs that women should be throwing themselves at him. "Lex" has been ruled by the women in his life, namely his Mom, and has never really had a strong male presence in his life. Enter That Guy. Lex wants to buy a horse and a horse trailer. Lex's mother objects. Lex presented his problem to me and my nemesis "Cream Puff." Cream Puff's advice was to not buy the horse because he may want to get married one day and horses are expensive. Wrong! Marriage is not the answer. Marriage is never the answer. That is why I call my nemesis Cream Puff. My advice was buy the horse, pick up some women along the way, have a good time, and enjoy life. As soon as the women mention a relationship or marriage, throw the women off the horse and move on at a fast gallop.

The Gas Shortage

It was announced yesterday that there was more than likely going to be a gas shortage in North Carolina over the course of the next couple of weeks due to a leak in the pipeline somewhere. I decided I had better stay at home this weekend so I conserve the half tank of gas I have in my car to get back and forth to work this week.

This happened one other time when I lived in Charlotte in 2010. At that time I was commuting about 50 miles a day round trip so it was a little more serious than this situation is (I think)as the gas shortage was region wide. I remember my store manager called all of the department managers together and gave us a big speech about how not having enough gas to make it to work would not be accepted as an excuse for not being there. He pretty well told us to not go anywhere after work. He decided to give an example. He said "I do not want to hear stories about you going to Leather and Lace South (a strip club in Charlotte) and then not having enough gas to get to work the next day." There were about 30 department managers in the room and when he said Leather and Lace South, 29 pairs of eyes looked at me. All I could come up with was "What? Why are you looking at me?" I couldn't help but laugh. I don't know why everyone I worked with would think I would do something like that.

I Better Hurry

This is one of those kind of stories that old men tell and as much as I hate to admit it, this story confirms my status as an old man. It was my day off, I slept in a little bit (and yes 8 AM is sleeping in) and I thought I would make a Bojangle's run when I got up. I had a few other errands to run while I was out and I thought I would take care of everything while I was out.

I went by Bojangle's, ate my biscuit, and headed by Ingle's to fill my car with gas. As I am finishing up, my stomach starts rumbling. I wanted to drop by my storage unit which was only about a quarter mile from Ingle's so I am thinking "I have plenty of time before I need to find a bathroom." I stopped by my storage unit and dropped off a few boxes and right as I was locking it back up, my stomach really started rumbling except for it was more of a growl. I needed to find a bathroom fast but my house was about three miles away. I quickly calculated that if I drove like a bat out of hell, I could make it to my house before my ass exploded. What I did not calculate was the fact that I had to go through a security gate, navigate traffic, a red light, and the local law enforcement who had nothing better to do than write speeding tickets on a Friday morning.

The speed limit to my house is 45 MPH. My math (and my ass) told me I needed to do 75 MPH. I kept one eye out for the local po po and the other eye watched out for traffic. I made it to the turn off to my driveway to the house and I had to wait on some old man out for a ride on his motorcycle, and another car. They did not understand the seriousness of my situation. I flew down my driveway and slid to a stop. I already had my seatbelt off and my key out to unlock the front door. I thought "I am going to make it!"

I ran up to the front door, jammed the key in the lock, turned the key, turned the door knob and bounced right off the front door. The door would not open. I slapped the door a couple of time in frustration, pulled my key out, and realized that I was a little too exuberant in trying to open the door. I had bent the key in half. I also realized that I had about five seconds to "splashdown."

I looked at my mangled key and I had to make a quick decision. The construction crew that works on the property had left a dump truck behind and I knew I needed to utilize the assets I had on hand. I sprinted over, pulled my shorts down (luckily I went kamikaze when I left the house), squatted beside one of the tires of the dump truck, and then my ass exploded. It was not pretty. My quick thinking had averted a disaster that could have happened in the front seat of my car but I knew it wasn't over yet.

I still needed to get back in the house before round two hit. I bent the key back as straight as I could, managed to get the door open, and promptly tripped right over my dog Molly, who was so happy to see me she could not hide her joy and was insistent on getting in my way all the way to the bathroom. After round two was over, I promptly threw my shorts away and took a shower.

I can now share my story with other old men and I am sure we will laugh about it. God knows a couple of my friends that I have already shared the story with have already found it funny as hell.

Strip Club Investigative Task Force

Greenville County, SC's persecution of the Platinum Plus Gentleman's Club has helped clue me in that I could have been getting paid to go to strip club's all of these years. Greenville took $26,000 of "forfeited" money was I believe the way it was listed and gave to undercover officers over the course of the year long investigation to spend on alcohol, lap dances, and some private time in the VIP room. Greenville County threw the book at the club and the girls that worked there. The charges varied from prostitution to exposure and performing illegal sex acts.

Greenville County spent over $100,000 in their prosecution of Platinum Plus including $80,000 in legal fees. One of the lawyer's watched ten hours worth of lap dance video in order to try to find examples of wrong doing. The first dancer on trial one a unanimous verdict in being acquitted. Her lawyer kicked the prosecution's ass and shredded their case. Platinum Plus has been fined $100,000 and a representative in the prosecutor's office described the situation as "almost a win."

It is now coming out that the officers were drunk (at taxpayer expense although the money was labeled as "forfeited"), committed sex acts of their own, and acted sleazier than the worst of the customers. I wonder if they are going to be fired or put on trial or even charged with the smallest of infractions?

I want to start my own Strip Club Investigative Task Force so I can investigate all of the wrong doings. Let the officers go back to fighting real crime and have a go at all of the unsolved murders, assaults, and robberies. Let me and my expert team investigate the dark underworld of the strip clubs and I promise we will get to the bottom of this.

My Own X-Files Story

I have never really formed a belief about UFO's. I have never really even given UFO's much consideration. I had a roommate once who was fascinated by UFO's. He watched all of the UFO shows- Ancient Aliens, UFO Sightings- and anything else that involved UFO's. He even dragged me to see that movie Cowboys Vs. Aliens. He ended up dying from pancreatic cancer shortly after he moved in and when I finally got around to clearing his DVR, he had 100 hours of UFO television shows recorded.

On the night of 6 September, I came home from work about 10:30 and I immediately leashed Molly up so I could take her for a walk. The skies were clear and it was a moonless night from my vantage point. We had just started walking down the driveway when I looked up and saw what I originally thought was an airplane flying over. I live near the Asheville Regional airport in the mountains of North Carolina so it is not unusual to see airplanes flying over. This plane was different. It was flying over Butt Mountain but this plane was more lit up than any of the other planes I had seen as well as being much bigger. It was oblong and saucer shaped and the white lights went around the perimeter of the aircraft.

There is a cell phone tower that sits on top of Butt Mountain and it has flashing red lights that are easily spotted. The aircraft flew towards the cell phone tower and then it just disappeared behind the mountain. The aircraft was very low to the ground and I was startled when it disappeared. I kept waiting to hear the crash or the explosion but it never came. The aircraft also never reappeared. I marked the spot where I was standing in the driveway so I could a better look at the spot I saw the aircraft in the morning.

I consider myself a rational person so I spent much of that night trying to rationalize what I had seen. I tried coming up with rational explanations but there weren't any that satisfied my rational mind. There are no roads up there so it could not have been headlights from a car. It was also not an airplane as it was too large and too low to the ground. It could not have been a smaller plane as I never heard the drone of an engine and it was too lit up.

I looked up UFO sightings in North Carolina and there have been many reported this year but not many in the western North Carolina mountains. One or two in Asheville over the past couple of month and a couple of more in Mills River but that was about it. The few sightings in the mountains I really can't explain either.

That Guy: College Advisor

I have been advising a friend of mine's son who just went away to college. He has been gone for about two weeks now, comes home every chance he gets, and has really not made any friends yet. My advice to him was to stay up there on the weekends, go to a few parties, go to a football game, and if things are still bad, go to a strip club. He will be surprised at how many friends he will have when he passes out a stack of singles and spends about an hour in the VIP room. Maybe I should set up a counseling booth like Lucy in the Peanuts comic strip.

What's In A Name?

I have picked up many names over the years, most are not really flattering, but what the hell, I suppose they are terms of endearment. Some of the better ones are Dino (and no not the purple dinosaur from the Flinstones), Big Daddy, Jackass, The Professor (my personal favorite), Gibby, and Mr. Slut (I really do not think that one will catch on). Some of the nicknames are obvious, some of them I have earned, and others I do not know what they are talking about. On the one hand I could say I made enough of an impression for the people to give me a term of endearment. On the other hand, I could say I have made a bad enough of an impression for them to give me a nickname. Either way, they remember who I am.

College: The Sleazy Frontier

A friend of mine at work took her son to college today and she does not understand the world of opportunities that lay in front of her son. She would not let me give him a pep talk before he left either. I am more than willing to be her son's mentor. I am sure my friend was going to shed quite a few tears when she left her son at the dorm on the campus and I told her that he should be knee deep in sorority girls at a keg party by the time she got home. There is a world full of sleazy opportunities that lay in front of him. The campus is full of strippers, future strippers, and girls that are just willing to get naked. My friend's son should be spanking more asses than a school teacher.

My friend is in denial about her son but I think it is important for any young man to get in touch with their inner sleaze. He needs to get all of the flooseys, tramps, and crazy women out of his system while he is still in college. He needs to wake up and not remember how he got there and wearing some girls 38 DDD bra on his head. That is where your real experiences from college come from. The classroom is just a small part of it. You have to learn how to handle booze, women, and your studies. That makes for a well rounded education.

Catching Up

One of my readers yesterday told me she had been catching up on "That Guy" which kind of surprised me because that guy has been kind of quiet this year. I just have not had that much material come my way. I asked my reader why she was reading it and she told me that she wanted to see if any of my blogs had been about her. She has definitely not given me any new material. That Guy has been trying to keep more of a low profile in recent months and quite honestly, it has been kind of boring. That Guy needs to get back in the field and see what is happening.

Life Imitating Art

I remember watching a Mel Brooks movie one time, High Anxiety, and there is one scene in the movie that quite often imitates my life. The scene is that Mel Brooks is sitting on a park bench reading a newspaper walking through a park in his suit and tie minding his own business and a pigeon flies over and shits on his right shoulder. He looks up like "what the hell..." and then another pigeon shits on him. He gets up and makes a break for it. Pigeons keep flying over and shitting on him. Pretty soon he is running through the park and these pigeons are chasing him and shitting on him. Mel Brooks sees a utility building and he seeks refuge in there. He is sitting on a bench inside the shelter and he starts cleaning himself off and then another pigeon shits on him. He looks up and the shelter he sought refuge in does not have a roof on it.

The moral of this story is that sometimes even when you think you have shelter, life still shits on you. Right now I have the King Kong of pigeons following me around.

My Life Is Like A Kayak

I was Talking to a friend of mine the other day and I was trying to think of an analogy that best described my life. I had been watching videos on YouTube of people kayaking the Narrows in Green River Cove earlier in the day and when I was talking to my friend, inspiration hit me. My life is like a kayak. I am drifting along in smooth waters and everything is going fine and then I hit the rapids. I navigate my way through some of the rapids and I am building up some momentum. Then a big rock in the middle of the river appears from out of nowhere and I get dumped on my head. I start taking in water trying to flip myself back over and then I have to start all over. That is what my life has been like over the past six years. My body and my psyche have taken a beating and right now I just want to get out of the river and put my boat up.

Off To College

I ran into a friend of mine from high school this morning when I made my Bojangle's run and his son was getting ready to head off to college. I still remember the day I headed off to college 32 years ago. The excitement of a new adventure was intoxicating. It was a combination of Revenge of the Nerds and Animal House but I managed to stumble my way through the first couple of months until I figured things out or at least I thought I had them figured out and I only woke up passed out on the front steps of the library once or twice.

I still remember when my parents dropped me off at my dorm. My Mom cried and I am pretty sure tht my father did a few victory laps around the parking lot, high fiving all of the other fathers, and I think he may have even done a victory dance before he burned rubber back to his house. Pops started dropping subtle hints when I was in high school when he bought me luggage and a footlocker when I was senior. I thought they came pre-packed with all of my stuff in them. Who knew that my father was the one that put all of my stuff in there?

Sometimes The Stripper Comes To You

I have pretty much put my "that guy" days behind me but every once in a while, circumstances dictate that I become "that guy" even if it is just for a few minutes. The other night that opportunity presented itself and I was forced to become "that guy" again. My job is to manage the dressing rooms at a retail store. I have to monitor who goes in and out and how many items of clothing the customers take in and out of the room. The town I live in has a lot of summer camps led by college age camp counselors. Many of those camp counselors are from foreign countries where the customs and rules are vastly different.

One night when we were busy a blond headed girl comes up to my desk wanting to try on an outfit. She was about 19 or 20 years old, attractive, and from her accent I was guessing she was eastern European. I told her that would be fine and I looked down to get the keys to the dressing rooms and when I looked back up, she was standing off to the side in front of my desk taking her top off. I was stunned. She got her top off and was standing there in her bra and she had a very nice rack on her. She reached down and started unbuttoning her pants. I just sat there with my mouth open not saying a word. One of the ladies I work with came around the corner before the girl could get her pants down and says "What are you doing?" The busty beauty replies "I am trying on this outfit." The woman I work with says "You need to do that in a dressing room. Where are you from?" The girl replies "I am from Poland. This is how we do it where I am from." The employee says "Well over here we require you to use a dressing room." The Polish girl looks at me and says as I am unlocking the door to one of the dressing rooms " I am sorry. I did not mean to get you in trouble." I finally spoke. "It's OK. You didn't know." I could feel myself starting to blush.

When I got back to my desk the female employee who "helped" me out asks me "Were you going to stop her?" My response came straight from the That Guy. I replied "I was going to stop her when I ran out of singles." If a hot girl wants to take off her clothes in front of me, who am I to deny her that right? Being from Poland, I think the girl needed a lesson in being free to express herself and experience American freedoms. I think that on this night "That Guy" may have reached super hero status. All I need is a cape.

A Rite Of Passage

I work with a lady whose daughter got married the other day. I am always looking for a reason to either throw a bachelor party or go to a bachelor party so I asked her if the groom (also known as the poor sap) had a bachelor party. The lady turned on me like a cat hissing when it is backed into a corner and said "No! And he is not going to, either." My response was naturally incredulous. Every man should have a bachelor party. It is a rite of passage.

Thomas Paine's The Rights of Man did not include as part of his treatise man's right to have a bachelor party but that is part of the rights of man. If a man is going to get married, the poor sap should go out kicking and screaming with a beer in one hand and a boob in the other. A bachelor party is a rite of passage for a man and I tried to tell the lady I work with this. By man law, an ex post facto bachelor party is required and mandatory within the first six months of marriage. I told the lady I work with that I would be glad to arrange something for the young man because I still know a few people but she politely declined my offer. I believe her exact words were "No! You stay away from him! He is not having a bachelor party!" It is bad enough that his wife is probably answering for him but now his mother-in-law is too. This man needs a bachelor party!