Gas, Food, Medieval Weaponry

My wife and I took our son, Aaron, to the Shriner's Hospital in Houston yesterday to get him checked up. Houston traffic sucks. Talk about congestion.
Anyhow, we were coming back and we stopped at those all too familiar fixtures on the highway, Love's gas stations. They have the most interesting selection of items there. You might actually be able to perform simple repairs on your vehicle with the selection of car parts and gadgets they have there.
Most of the store is basically filled with impulse items. They have these die cast metal cars, metallic briefcases, CD walkmans, small fans, sunglasses and my favorite, swords and daggers.
Swords and daggers, you say? Yes, swords and daggers.
If Conan, the Barbarian, lost his sword, he could go pick one up at Love's. If any of the immortals in the Highlander films broke their swords, they could get a replacement at Love's.
"Yes, I'd like twenty on pump 3 and the samurai blade next to the dragon dagger."



Lost in translation?

I had to share this with everyone because I thought it was funny as Hell.

So, I'm flipping channels the other day and I come across this B movie with Corbin Bernsen called, "Spacejacked." If you're in a mood for a horrible space mutiny movie, this is the way to go. I sat there, quietly chuckling when all of a sudden... there's a face off. Two guys are fixing to shoot each other with their bad laser pistols when an innocent bystander is taken hostage by the villain. The villain looks at his antagonist and says:

"Looks like we have ourselves a Mexican standoff. Or as they call it in Mexico, a standoff."

Alright, maybe it wasn't that funny, but I thought it was.

That will be all.


A bit of history.

"I'm here to sing some songs for my mama." Me in Memphis. Posted by Hello

And So It Begins...

I'm taking my first steps into the world of blogging with this post. I use to blog, but on my iMac and only to a select group of people. Ever since this blogging thing began, I was curious to try it.
And so it begins.
My first blog won't blow anyone or anything out of the water. It might not even be entertaining. But the fact of the matter is that I'm a writer, at heart and by nature, so I must find a place to write.
Normally, I write at home, on my iMac. I churn out scripts and musings and one liners and on and on... I even carry a leather-bound notebook that I use to write things I may want to use later.
I like to write things people say. Many of my friends come up with some gems that just demand to be used in a story or a script. Unfortunately, I can't cite examples as many of them contain words that bikers and sailors might find offensive.
Here's one thing I enjoy doing: get your TV remote and find the menu that allows you to activate your close captioning. I have been fortunate in my life to have preserved my hearing, despite the decibel level I keep my home and car stereo. But if I were hearing impaired, I might get a kick out of some of the descriptions on the close captioning. For instance: I was watching one of the many Hellraiser movies one night. Pinhead had just come forth from the darkness and announced he would "tear your soul apart", as he does from time to time. Suddenly, an array of hooks on chains shot out at the unsuspecting victim and began to puncture and pull his skin. As I watched, I happened to glance down at the bottom of the screen, amid the screaming and violence to read: "Sound of hooks ripping through flesh continues." Now, how descriptive is that? I mean, I don't think I ever really paid much attention to the sound of hooks ripping through flesh, but after that caption, I would probably recognize the sound, if I were to ever hear it again. I could be standing at a street corner and hear screaming and without turning my head identify the sound behind the scream as hooks ripping through flesh. And later of hooks continuing their flesh ripping escapades.

The second part of this first rant, I want to dedicate to my wife. She and I have been married just over a year and we recently moved to Texas from Arkansas. I lived here for nearly 20 years before I moved away to start my life over. During my stay in Arkansas, I was lucky enough to find her, living in my apartment complex. And just to beat her to the punch, it took me two years to ask her out. She loves telling that story. She came to me at a point in my life where I had lost hope of finding anyone who would not only allow me to be myself, but who would also not be afraid of being anything other than who she was. She's intelligent, witty, nurturing, passionate, beautiful and honorable. She's everything I could have ever hoped to find in a mate. She brought with her two kids, Aaron and Terrance. When I met her, they were young teens. They are growing up to be fine boys with equally important roles in my life. But my wife, I can't say enough about her. I'm a journalist by trade. She has endured a lot being married to me. My bad habits, my forgetfulness, my procrastination and my beer bottle collection. But after everything we've been through, the long move to Texas, the hours we have to spend apart during the day, she continues to love me. She even loves this half-cocked dream I have of becoming a screenwriter some day. She'd hope sooner than later and she kicks me in the rear when I get behind on my objective. She's everything I could have ever wanted and more. Sometimes I don't believe I'm worthy, but she treats me like a king. She is my queen. My life. My love. My everything.
So, Tonya, these words I write, they won't ever measure up to how I feel about you. Not one bit. But I'll try to show you just how much you mean to me, everyday, anyway I can. I love you, baby.

Stay tuned for more rantings soon.


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