Bless me father....for I'm a greedy bastard.

Have you heard about this Rev. Long (unfortunate name for what he's accused of)? I was watching it on the news and it was pretty much your standard "big religious guy grooming teenage boys for sexual favors".

I know, sad that is a 'standard' story in this day and age.

Now...nothing makes me madder...we've been over this. I think kiddie diddlers should be shot on sight (as well as turds that hurt animals...but that's another blog).

Then they said in the news report, "...he lured the boys with luxuries like: rides in the Reverend's Royal Royce, trips in his Leer Jet and jewelry..."

TIME OUT!

Now...I know this Long dude is the preacher for one of these mega churches..but I'm pretty sure Jesus cruised around in sandals. Jesus sure didn't fly in a jet. And ya know what...he sure as shit didn't have no jewelry!

You know what the biggest crime is here...that "men of the cloth" abuse their power and preach to folks about how they should be humble. THAT'S the real crime. This jack ass has pix in his bathroom with gold faucets and a bath tub that looks like a swimming pool. I'm sorry...but that's WRONG!

Not the pix...but the fact his bathroom cost more than I'll ever see in my lifetime!

Papa Ratzi ain't no better. The Pope sits on his gold throne, with his fur capes and handmade Italian shoes and tells his penniless priests and nuns to kiss his big-ass gold ring.

All the good the church does is built on the backs of those priests and nuns! Scraping together a few bucks to put on programs for the neighborhood kids and fund local charities. (they got issues too, but it's still a HUGE charitable organization)

And yet, the Pope stands in his lil window in the Vatican and tells his people to cinch their belts and offer it up to God. Then someone carries his silk train of his fancy gowns and takes a nap on is million thread count sheets and dreams of....well lets not go there.

It makes me sick.

All you "holy men" talking about who God would punish and send to hell.....better take stock. You might be surprised that the afterlife for you....is lil "warmer" then you're expecting.

41 days...but who's counting?

Yes...I have a countdown clock. I got it at the day after Halloween sale at Spirits. That's like Mecca to me. I travel there every year to pay homage to next years yard haunt.

Plus prices are scary good at that point.

I've already upped the ante this year with some demonic whispers and some cemetery tracks. I'm thinking about relocating the walk up to the driveway. The neighbors spotlight on their garage is annoying.

Hmmm....maybe it needs red lights in it. I've been on the ladder a few times at their garage to unscrew the lights. I have no shame.

I found a picture, when I was home in CA recently, of my grandma in vampire teeth and these plastic disks you put in your eyes like a monocle. They made your eyes look bloodshot and bug out. They probably cost .50¢ back then. (probably still do, if they make them) She would answer the door for trick or treaters like that.

This obsession didn't come off the wind, folks!

My grandfather was known for throwing a sheet over his head and standing outside a window till one of finally noticed and ran screaming from the room to find my grandma.

"Tiny...are you scaring these kids again!?"

Crazy aunt Joan (everyone has one...right? someone not related that was just always at every family party...no...just me?) use to do the entire Wicked Witch of the West routine. Green make up and all! I wouldn't even go through the front door as a kid. My folks had to sneak me around the back. She would use balloons for humps on her back. She thought it would calm my fears if I was the one that got to pop them with a pin.

Ya...not so much.

When I was in high school, we made our family home a walk-through, haunted house for 5 years. Gilbert Manor would have a line going down the block. No one could believe we didn't take money for it. (the story of my poor, penniless life)

And while the Hunted Mansion at Disneyland was the bane of my existence as a little kid, it became my lusty wish to live there at some point. I wanted to be the knight that jumped out at visitors for a very brief period.

I would have to say....Halloween has been my longest relationship to date. And because of that, I try to keep Halloween true in my heart every year. (even if that makes me a weirdo.

"This kind of certainty comes but once in a lifetime." ~The Bridges of Madison County

Finally....I can blog about this: We got married!

That's right, on the beach in MA, exchanged rings and vows, married.

We were kinda keeping it a lil hush hush cuz we figured no one, after us being together 14 years, wouldn't consider it a blip on the radar.

How wrong we were!

We were greeted with gasps of joy, tears of happiness and hugs of cheer. And in this age of social media, the comments went on for days with well wishes from our FB family and friends.

The day you relize your gay, there are a lot of images that dissapear from your brain that are not available to you. The wedding scene is really no longer a thing you can dream about. Oh...sure...you can do a ceremony. You can go thorugh the motions. But you always know that it's not legal. The 1,400 laws that protect your married friends and family are not for you.

While we took the extra step to legally bind ourselves to one another, with lawyer's fees others don't have to pay, we still didn't have the bulk of benefits that others have with just a simple ceremony.

There are only 6 states in the US that allow same sex marriage. We decided, since we were vacationing there anyway, why not get married on the Cape. Why not make it legal and do it up right?

NY recognizes marriages from other states that have same-sex unions. So why not? We've been trying to hold out for NY to do the right thing, but they missed their chance and who knows what will happen with a new Governer?

So on the beach we stood, Justice of the Peace speaking words we wrote, holding hands as the sun set in front of us.

Just me and the wife.

"Drive back baby to me, fast in your car. I'm here waiting, crash into me real hard." ~Gwen Stefani

So I'm headed to work. I've been taking this route through the Tipp Hill area, cuz it's nicer and less stressful than the Geddes route. But I was thinking, "Schools not in yet and I'm a lil late and I think Geddes is faster..."

I altered my course Monday morning.

As I free wheeled down the hill from my house, my head in a Monday morning fog, I was happy for the "kid free" streets. I had to snap myself back and be more defensive and pay attention.

It was a good thing too....as I came to a green lit intersection in my favor, I caught out of the corner of my eye, a scrap truck.

You've seen these. Beater trucks, really scrap on wheels themselves. Loaded down with metal framing, old bikes, bbqs, wheels and the like. Driven by folks who trash pick and stop in the street to pick up hubcaps and anything metal.

This economy has turned us into trash pickers. Anyway you can make a buck. I get it.

This truck, headed to the intersection I was just moving into, came barreling towards me. Weighted down to the point that the body of the truck almost scraped the ground. My Spidey sense tingling, I realized it wasn't stopping!

I was halfway through the intersection when I realized he wasn't stopping! Not only wasn't he stopping...but he would proceed to make a radical right turn. The scrap on the back of his truck, flying from the bed, clattering and clanging onto the pavement. A metal pipe, sticking out of the truck, draggin in the other lane, and sparking on the pavement, finally detached and rolled under the stopped truck.

I sat there, gripping the wheel. I was almost T-boned by this idiot. And if that didn't happened, I would have had metal scrap slam across the hood of my car!

Thank Oprah I saw him coming and chose to slam on my breaks, with no one behind me!

I cautiously, crept up next to the truck with my car. The driver, like a statue behind the wheel. His co-pilot slowly emerged from the cab.

The right thing to do....pull over, ask if they were ok. Help get the metal out of the street so morning traffic could flow once again. Check the driver across the street and make sure the metal didn't hit their car.

Yes...that would be the right thing to do.

But I'm not known for doing the right thing...oh no...not me.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!? SMOKING YOUR FUCKING BREAKFAST?!?!" My booming voice bounced off the overpass ceiling and echoed on the walls. The guy getting out shrugged like someone hit him.

Steam coming from my ears, I wheeled away to work. Blood boiling!

Welcome Monday...why must you start my week so?

Birthdays, birthdays, oh what fun...

I know I've said this before, but I really have NO idea how I'm going to react at any given moment, about my dad's death.

His birthday was Aug 8th and I kinda felt like things were under control. Then I was at PPD (puppy play date) and a moment happened. The sky pulled open and rays of morning sunshine dropped down. It was like a painted illustration in a kids bible. That background from every Catholic trading card, with the saint in the foreground.

I thought about my dad. Did he have the kinda pull that he could whip up a sign like that? Is that reserved for folks that have been up there for some time, or just the divine one himself/herself. No matter...my throat did that all too familar thing these days and clamped down. The sting of salt water spilling over my tearducts. There I was in a field with a dozen dogs and all their owners, my emotions going AWOL on me.

My theory was to keep busy on his birthday. I had a long enough 'honey do' list to accomplish that. Next was to work out: great! Suited up and headed to the basement, thumping workout music on my iPod at the ready. After my stretch, I cranked up the tunes and hopped on the treadmill.

10 minutes in, P!nk in my ears, her emotions raw through her music:

Where did you go?
Where did you go?
How did you know to get out of a world gone mad?
Help me let go
Of the chaos around me
The devil that hounds me
I need you to tell me
Child be still

It crippled me! Sobbing, heaving sobs, rattling the ribs in my chest. Burning the tissue in my throat. Feeling the weakness of exerting the energy it takes to uncork that bottle and let the emotions spill out on the ground, like red wine on a white carpet...a shock to my system.

Off went the treadmil, before I fell off it. I took a moment on the weightbench, trying to get myself together long enough to get back to life. No breaks...breaks leave opening to think. Thinking leads to tears.

Keep Moving!

I managed to get through my workout.

On to the next chore. Chain-smoking chores to keep from thinking.

Why does opening up, hurt so much? Aren't you suppose to be rewarded for being open and honest? Yet everytime I throw the iron bars on my heart open, the pain forces it closed again. Like someone entering into the light, after being in the dark. The light is sharp and causes my eyes to ache, so aches my heart.

By the end of the day, I was exhausted. Was I any better off for letting go? I don't know. The saddness doesn't seem any less.

tomato - tomahta

I got a "patio tomato" at the regional market at the beginning of summer. Within a few weeks we had more tomatoes than we could handle. And to build tomato karma, we have been giving a few away here and there.

Then from the top of the plant came the most perfect tomato EVAH! Perfect shape, color, size. I wanted to give it just one more day on the stem before I sent it to tomato heaven.

I went home for lunch yesterday and we sat out on the patio. I looked at the plant and it took a second to register.

"Did you pick the tomatoes?" I asked LTR.

"No.....were any ready?" She looked at the plant.

"Yes...there was a perfect tomato on top and then a bunch that were just turning..."

SOME ONE HAD STOLEN MY PERFECT TOMATO!!!

Laura got up and walked a few steps when she spied on the grass a half eaten green tomato. Something had been busy making short work of all the red ones. Obviously the green ones weren't quiet as good.

I'm sure my tomato plant is now some sort of nature's buffet for wayward critters. The rest of the tomatoes don't have a chance!

That perfect tomato was now in some racoon's belly. I hope it makes him sick.

I know...I know....

I'm obsessed already.

YANKEE HALLOWEEN

POTTERY BARN SPOOKY STUFF

THE DISNEYLAND OF HALLOWEEN

MY ANNUAL BIBLE

WHO I WANNA BE WHEN I GROW UP

Is it too early?

I mean...July isn't even out the door and I walked into the Dollar Store yesterday and there was a whole end-cap of skulls and skeletons!

Now if that was xmas crap...I would be FURIOUS! Every year when xmas goes up and I'm still in flip flops I think, "How could they, for the love of baby Jesus, son of Oprah! Oh ya, I could pitch a downright fit about xmas stuff being up a day before Thanksgiving. I'll fight anyone that thinks the holiday season for xmas should start with the first day of school.

But the Halloween stuff, even the low grade Dollar Store crappy stuff, caused me to come up short, make my hands into a pyramid in front of my mouth and wiggle my fingers in hungry joy!

It's coming :)

To be honest, I've been on all sorts of Halloween sites for MONTHS now! One home haunter actually buries the clothes for his props in the summer so that they will be properly zombie-fied by Halloween.

Yes...these are the folks I idolize.

I signed up for the GarageOfEvil.com where 'weenies post their props with pride and pomp.

I have a list of things I want to make this year (flickering pillar candles, chicken wire dummies, a witch for the graveyard with a boiling cauldron, and some sort of projection show on the front windows from the inside of the house).

I'm already BEHIND and I haven't started yet!

Soon our basement will once again become the evil lab where I create Halloween goodies for my home haunt. And there might be some that pitch a fit that it's starting too soon.

To them I say: Boooooooo!

Summer time...and the livin' ain't so easy..it's busy. Very busy.

The one thing 'bout folks in upstate NY...they know how to make the most of their summer time!

There is not one weekend wasted here. Festivals, show, fairs, concerts, camping, hiking, the list goes on and on. Oh and there is that lawn thing. We don't have one of those for about 7 months and you need to keep up on it in the short amount of time it's there.

It's always amazing to me that, when the snow creeps away, there is living grass under there. It might be a lil brown and laid flat from the weight of winter, but it's still there baybee! A few rainstorms and a lil sun and all of a sudden it's a weekly chore to keep it at bay.

What makes these folks make the most of the very short 10 weeks of summer they are allotted? The dread that all that snow, like the dreaded Terminator, will be baaak. (said like Ahnuld) So before we are butt high in angel shit, we bake under the sun, withstand the skeeters, and add to the humidity with our sweat.

These are the days you look back on, when there is snow still on the ground in April, and think, "Remember when we complained it was soooooo hot last July?"

Heat = Hair

We are having a heatwave here in the North East. It's not pretty.

I've lived here 12 years now, and I do love 'hot'. It's the humidity that kicks my ass. It's like walking through soup! You get out of the shower, get dressed and you're drenched in moisture the second you walk out the door.

The car temp hit 98 yesterday. They have this thing called the "heat index" which mixes the effect of the humidity in with the temp. That's at 112 today, just in case you weren't hot enough.

Sticky girly bits aside...the worst part about heat? Men! Usually ugly, fat, bushy backed, old farts that decide it's ok to strip when it's hot. I can't tell you how many times I almost barfed just trying to get home yesterday.

One guy had a gunt on him that hung down past his belt-line by a good foot. He stood, watering his lawn, and burning my eyes.

Another fine specimen walked down the street with his shirt as a turban and his hair entrenched breasts swaying, as he lumbered down the street.

I'm sorry...but if you're going to insist that women cover up their chest, men should also have the same regulation for indecent exposure. 80% of the guys I saw, had bigger boobs than I do.

Then you have the guys, usually a lil younger, that insist on pulling just the front of their shirt up, so that their fat belly sticks out. I'm not sure if this is some ingrained mating tactic from caveman days, or their cooling panel is JUST in their belly. Either way....it's not working. Cover it or get a six pack. And I don't mean the one you drink. It's obvious you've had your share of the beer kind.

Let's talk hair for a minute. (and JUST a minute, cuz really...I will toss my breakfast onto my keyboard)

My sisters and I used the "puff factor" method of hair for men. A mess of hair just at the v-neck under shirt was a 1 or 2. Sticking out the sleeves or getting their gold necklace tangled in it, 4. If the shirt could actually stand up on the matt of curly mess that was beneath, then it was puff factor 10 and you should avert your eyes.

My sister Marlo and I were in the car one day, when I noticed ahead of us in a VW, was the only man who broke the scale with a 12. His tank top couldn't contain the hair that covered his body like a shitious halo of dark evil. The sun, setting in front of us, illuminated the height so that we could see where his skin stopped and the hair continued. It was a good inch and a half above his body. (oh crap...here comes my yogurt and granola!!)

I understand you guys are hot. I understand that, for every gross guy out there, I could find a woman wearing a tube top and hot pants that has no business doing so, but comeOHN! The worst part is you all think you look like Tom Cruise's sexy, younger brother without your shirt on.

YOU DON'T!!! Cover up or at least wear a bikini top. You're scaring the kids.

Hey batta, batta, batta...SWING!

We have a cute lil park at the end of our block. Just as we were moving into the neighborhood, they put in a little league field at the end. The park was more than big enough for the field, a snack bar, a tennis court, a basket ball court and a playground. But then the traffic problems started.



Then they decided they needed to move the playground closer to the field so that parents could keep an eye on their darling lil tykes that weren't in the game. So with that, there was a large grass space left at the far end from the field.



Neighbors got signatures for a dog park there, as many folks have dogs that walk in the park. But we came up against a brick wall and rumblings began that the LL wanted to put ANOTHER field in the green space.



Hackles people...my hackles went up.



It's been a couple years now, and it seems the LL has finally got what they needed to push this forward. A grant for $30,000 is helpful as well. What city is going to turn that down?



"Why didn't we think of getting a grant for the dog park?" my neighbor groused.



"Because the LL is a well oiled war machine that has for decades taken over park space like a militia on it's way to Tara, burning neighbors moods as they went." I grumbled back.



We went to the community meeting (re: dog and pony show) last night. They had hot dogs and hamburgers for us to enjoy. I chose not to share in the 'bribe'. Each member of the LL came over, somber and looking like a puppy that was just spanked for pooping on grandma's Oriental rug.



"Are you here for the meeting? I'm so glad you came. We just want to give everyone a chance to voice their opinion and we, the LL, want to work with the community to blah blah blah.....".



A lil bit of throw up in my mouth. They knew what they were up against. No one wants this park...they know it. You can read it on their guilty lil pusses. Lil did I know it was really deeper than that.



As the meeting proceeded, the president of the LL was a man with a 'tude a mile long. He was there with a chip on his shoulder and a disgusted look on his face. He tried to make it sound like we were a bunch of kid haters, which is the furthest from the truth.



I love them.....I just can't finish a whole one by myself. badumpah...thank you I'll be here all week!



But seriously folks....I went cuz I just think we are a kid-centric society. If you're a breeder, you get the benes. I'm childless (at least...that I know of :::wink wink:::) and I should have space in the park as much as anyone else. I pay the taxes for the city park, and I pay school taxes and I don't have kids! I like that green space for letting my pooch run around. I like that green space for laying in the grass. I like that green space for being...well....GREEN, damn it!



With an additional playing field there will be double the traffic. Double the parked cars lining the street. Double the children darting between cars.



The LL folks got frothier and more worked up the more folks brought up reasons NOT to have the field. One LL guy had this "What the fuck is wrong with you people?" attitude that really didn't help either when he pipped up.



I spoke my two cents and then it dawned on me: this is a done deal! They weren't acting all coy cuz they were trying to win votes, Oh no! This was in the pot and cooking and they thought it was a slam dunk! They thought we would show up, lift them over our heads and cheer them for saving our park from ruin with their t-ball field!



This turned out to be....a VERY differnt meeting, indeed!



"I just want you to go home and think....are your reasons for not wanting this field as selfless as mine?" said the president of the LL. "I'm just trying to make a place for kids to play...what are YOUR reasons for NOT wanting it?"



Ummmm...Ya JACKHOLE! I don't want to you dig up the park, increase the traffic and noise pollution with screaming kids. Let me just put it to you this way...I won't be having a picnic on your pitching mound. It's kind of in the way of MY park.