Since 1940

The characters depicted in the following have false names due to the fact I currently am training in a Care Center facility and don't wish to get my ass reamed or failed. This is not a usual comical story, yet a touching one. Get out your tissues. Enjoy.

For three days I've been socializing with the elderly of my little town of Wyoming, cleaning messes, feeding them, and everything in between.  Today, I got to be acquainted with a particularly interesting couple- we'll call them Sue and Dale. The CNA that I was to shadow that day had that lovely couple in her care.  It was about lunch and time for a bathroom break.  For those of the audience who aren't aware, it is rare that an elderly, at any given care center, won't need assistance.  We walked Sue and Dale to their shared room- to meet their little dog of which I came to find out they'd had for six years.

Ladies first, so as the aid helped her, I conversed with Dale for a small bit until his turn. He smiles as he almost immediately starts to tell me, "You know we've been together about 75 years." I'm intrigued. "Oh yeah?" I hint to more, with a smile. "Oh yes yes." He breathes in deeply, I wait for him to continue. "You know, it was me and a buddy who were at a basketball game many years ago. We saw two of the cutest cheerleaders and snuck up on them and told them we wanted them over at our place after the game. They told us they had boyfriends that were to wait for them after the game.  So we told them to go ahead and get changed when the game was over and sneak out the window of their changing room. We'd help them down and take them to their boyfriends. So, after the games we helped them out of the window and left with them. Been together ever since." He smiled as he was finished with that portion of the story.

He saw me smiling in disbelief and amazement. "Yup," he said," my buddy and the other cheerleader were together too, but they passed away some time ago. A sort of reminiscing in his eyes and this thought. "I'm in awe. That's a very long time." I commented. What else do you say to that? "Yup. We don't fight. I still love her. We grew up here together."
"You've lived in *said city* your whole life?"
"Mmhmm."
"And her?"
"I don't really know where she's from anymore." He chuckles. So do I. "But I think she's from here too."
At this time, Sue comes out, and Dale goes in.
While passing each other, her in walker, him in wheelchair, Dale says to her, "Give me a kiss." "What?!" She instantly responds. "Don't worry," he says, "I'll give you one back." Sue smiles and surely gives him a kiss on the lips and tries to pull away. "Wait!" Dale says, "I didn't give you one back." She leans over and receives her kiss.
Sue's time for a chat. As she's sitting down, I'm wiping back tears, trying to gain composure. "So your husband tells me you've been together for quite some time." She smiles that smile. Even under her elderly skin, all of those wrinkles and delicate features- I know that smile anywhere. She loves him still before she even says the words. "We got married in 1940." She tells me. " But were with each other before that." The tears keep coming as she tells me her side of the deal, "I was a cheerleader and he liked to pick on me. He's straightened up over the years." We giggle the gossip-chuckle together. She restates his thoughts, "Yup. Been together 70-some years and still I love him. We don't really fight. We argue. But never fight." She smiles. " I think we'll be just fine as long as he keeps his act together." A shared gossip-chuckle again. "What about you?" She asks, catching me a little off guard. "What do you mean?" I ask. "Well, your smile, how did you and your guy meet?" I blush a little bit. Didn't think I was obvious. "Well. We worked at a store together. Then he needed help moving into another place, then took me on dates and we've been together ever since." I smiled my biggest, as she caught that my last line mimicked her's. "How long have you been together for?" She asked. "A year." I smiled once more. Today that she ask me is the day we've officially been a year. She mimics me in return," Oh wow!" and we laugh. "Nothing like 75 years." I say.
Dale comes out and the two exchange a glance. "Ready for dinner, sweetheart?" Dale asks. "I am, dear." She replies. The two head down the winding hallways to the dining hall.

I love that. I can't tell you how much my heart goes out to those two and other couples who have stuck with it over the years. Anyone that knows me can tell you I'm no sap and don't give into the romantic comedy chick flicks of today. You can keep your flings and heart-throbs- I don't want em.  Some day I hope to be able to say I've been with someone for even fifty years. I think it's phenomenal- some of the relationships that last to the end of their days. I think it's the most beautiful thing ever to love someone, and actually show dedication by finding something every day about them that you love. Every day being patient with them. Every day having new adventures as not to take each other for granted. I love the elderly. So tossed aside in the world of today in the American culture. So underestimated.

A College Freshman Once

 It's been a while since I've written, mainly because I've been quite busy with school I find it hard to record my adventures. So here's a little story I found digging through some things I wrote freshman year.....




One afternoon I was walking back to my dorm, when from the outside, the same idiots that have the courtesy to yell at everyone else has the nerve to yell at me, all on my lonesome, "HEY SEXY!"

How flattering.*Note Sarcasm* I take this time to act upon big uber-blonde men and go straight up to their room - wasn't hard, the first door nearest the window upstairs.
I knock.
A reply from the muscular blonde boy opening the door. "Yes?"

" You had something to say to me? " I said, eyebrow cocked and ready for this.

" No. Just kidding around," as he starts to close the door, "You're not hott. "

Oh poor me, a big blonde child doesn't think i'm bangable. Hm. Let's see if any of the other girls will think he's bangable.

I go back to my room, pull out a sharpie and some paper to tape together to make a lovely sign.

About ten minutes later, a sign was heavily taped on that door stating :

" I MIGHT BE MUSCULAR BUT I HAVE A TINY PENIS. I YELL OUT WINDOWS BUT I'M CHICKEN SHIT TO YOUR FACE. COME PLAY WITH ME. IT'S BEEN A WHILE."

Hm. Wonder who could have done such a thing....but the feeling was satisfying to see two guys walk by and start chuckling to themselves.

Lucy is Still Lucifer

Sorry it's been a while since I've written. I've been busy, things on my mind.. the list goes on. Here's something...

Lucy is Still Lucifer

The hair on the back of my neck raises
Every time I have to look at you.
Think about you.
I don't think you understand- it's not a good thing.
My heart races just thinking about you now,
Thinking about how I'll never get you out of my head.
And I don't even love you.

There are few people I don't like in this world,
Fewer I would claim to hate.
But you. You. So much hate festers
You attention seeking whore.
Slut, harlot, she-devil, good for nothing, makes me sick to my stomach-
thinking about you with him.

You and your airbrushed hair,face, nails;
You and your fake, misleading,under-mature, overrated, under-dressed, ill-advised, selfish bovine.
You and your wretched, miserable, serpent-like personality and face.
He may not see it; never will.
I always will.

I am not blinded by the classic societal wench
I am not blinded by the cutesy attitude thrown along with naked bodies
As if they've not wronged.
As if the temptation of men and the cheating of their women's hearts was not done.
As it was.

But you- you can not be released from this life you've clung on to-
The life you turned away because of your own selfish desires and
once it was gone
you wanted it.  Typical I say.
Typical of you and those around before you who set the standard.
Your typical age, gender, hormonal drive, and need to captivate the most difficult of attentions.

I wish it were difficult for you.
I might then say he loved me more than he does you.

Malachi and Copernicus Rise Again

Monday mornin- "Dude I'm dropping my math class. Wanna go to Salt Lake for a concert?" Queer asks. "Yup." I say.

As always, we go on spur of the moment, Queer and I. No trip is ever really planned. If we talk about it and try to plan it, it won't happen like most things people talk about anymore.  We were supposed to leave that night, but I had night duty in my residence hall which I skipped anyway due to sleep deprivation. Woke at about 1:30am and saw if he was still awake. He was.  Messaged my boss to approve the future night absence. Approved.  Got that Asian out of bed to see if he was up for an adventure to his home town, and off we were at approximately 3:00.

We arrived at about noon, mostly alive save the panic attacks from Queers maniac driving. That mixed in with some ginger hype no one quite understands makes for a dangerous time.  Oh what fun I say!  We drove around a bit, looking at the mansions of the snooties built on the side of the mountains, looking at their view from the streets we drove. 

Lucky. Unnecessarily lucky.

Checked out the town a bit, located the venue, and visited the Asian's brother. We'll call him Blondie. (Just the streak in his hair folks... struck me as odd.) Watched his friend play Portal until we decided to hit up the movies.... I'm glad it was only a buck each.  Thirty Minutes or Less was NOT worth it, even if you are a huge Jesse Eisenberg fan.

After that, a bit more time to kill.  More mansions, streets, sun and wind... and hunger.  Damn Asian. You have to feed that thing hourly. Like a garbage disposal! Just... EVERYTHING in it's path. Beware. So we om nom nom'ed and went to the venue.  Lost driving around the same block three times some how, but we finally found it again.  "HE JUST HANDED THAT MAN COCAINE!"

Seriously! The guys, acting all big city suave, told me to hush hush about it, saying it's normal.
Look you two, none of us are from the small town- remember that.  But how desensitized are you when a man hands over a baggie of powder in broad daylight, and you find no amusement? Tisk tisk hehe. Seriously though. On the street. A busy street. Perhaps these small town po po should move to a bigger city where there's real trouble and stop giving me damn warnings for loitering. WHILE WALKING. Another story, another day.

Queer was stoked- had been waiting since he graduated to see them- The Sounds.  The lead singer, a lovely Swedish lady, is what catches his fancy. Ironic, I know.  Immediately after walking in, the piss hits us all- after coming out, queer states eagerly he'd just shaken hands with someone who might not have washed his hands and took a piss right before hand.  "I know he's on something. I made a friend."  I chuckled a little, looking over at Asian to see him nodding matter-of-factly.  The bass was booming in the whole place. I hate concerts like that only because it makes me jealous and think my awesome bass in my car is nothing comparable.  MMmmm. Bass. 

The first group was dank- Kids at the Bar.  Just a couple of DJs rockin it out, getting our ears ready.  Then The Limousines, a band I took a particular liking to and was so inclined as to buying a cd.  Then the moment Queer waited for so long.  The moment he'd shat himself about when he found out we were to go.  The Sounds stepped out all glorious in the fog machine.  Everyone jumped and screamed, and to me, for a moment, it was like there was no one else in the room.  Just me.  Just bass and loud music. He took a million pictures.  "I have to get closer." He said, looking at me with puppy concern.  "Get up there." I smiled, not wanting to leave Asian to get trampled, hating crowds enough as it was.  He just danced there excitedly, having little blonde renegades grind up on him. He didn't care, this was The Sounds. THE SOUNDS. From Sweden!

I yell to Asian "I'm taking him closer!" He nods, I grab Queers hand, and bolt my damndest towards the front. Elbows flying, everyone going off balance- packed in there tighter than a whore's tits on Black Friday.  No idea what that means. Just made it up. Go with it.  Anywho, I get nasty looks but like I care- I'll never see them again.  I have to get him closer. We did NOT drive all the way to Salt Lake for some shitty pictures!! We were three persons away from the stage, the singer flashing us in all her glory.  My shoving momentum had people off balance and forced to shove back and back and forth and back and forth until it got violent- oh shit guy. I started a mosh pit.  Crazy faux-hawkin ging coming from a bum-middle-of-no-where college started a mega mosh in the midst of all these 'hipsters' and 'scene' kids.  WIN.

After three or four songs we had to get out of there. I'm not even sure it was that many songs, time flew and slowed down and the motion of the mosh never stopped all the while. We needed hydration. The little Asian had come into the mob and was getting thrown left and right. Had we three not been linked so well, he might have vanished.  We agreed to make a break for it out of there, straight back.  It was odd, you'd think people would willingly let you through going OUT to let them further IN.  Ohhhh no, not these crazies.  One blonde idiot tried shoving me back in after I gave her among a many other the rugby shoulder.

Wrong move dinky.  BAM. Elbow to the face.  I don't think she fell completely, but back a bit into guys' arms with glares.  I b-lined it out of there. We all looked back at the stage.  The sound enveloping us like sprinkles in cool whip.  Like cheesecake in strawberry sauce.  Like Potatoes in mayo.  Damn I'm hungry... can't find a good one that fits...

Enveloped.

That was when I bought the cd and got to take pictures with the other two performing groups.  We had a deadline to meet in order to get back for work and school and things.  Cj didn't get to meet his lady,  but he was happy nonetheless.  We had a quick bite on our way out and stopped by once more at Blondie's then bounced.  Queer got us out of city limits, and I drove quite a ways, going no less than 90 wanting to get back as quick as possible to catch some ZZZs before work.  We ended up shaving two hours off of our time for the trip down there. 

So much awesome packed into a 24 hour period.  Conclusion? The longer you talk about it, the less likely you are to DO it.  Oh, and never give an Asian a snack. Always, ALWAYS full meals.  This way you save yourself a million snacks. <3

Follow-up on Your Roosters

This Monday (after the last Friday- the Epic Blowout) I saw the Ring Leader again.

He was in the lunch line right behind me.  I see his smug smile from the corner of my eye.  "How's the dick sucking going?" I ask, smiling ear to ear.  "Better now that you're here." He smiles back.  I just chuckle and walk away to sit with my friends.

A couple of days later I see him again in the lunch room.  I'm grabbing soup from the lunchroom to bring upstairs to where I work. He was in the line and as I walk by him, I give him a pat and squeeze on the shoulder, "What's up buddy?" And walk away to my soup.  Shortly he walks over to me and asks, "Am I really your buddy?" "Ha, yeah man." He walks away, "Sweet." 

So we're on speaking terms?  Decent acquaintances?  No idea, but it's so funny how life works with a smile.

Got a Big Schlong? Mine's Bigger.

WARNING: Explicit materials for those under appropriate age of harsh words or wrestlers.  Read with caution and brain cells.

Today was the day, my friends.  Well, remember the gaggle of ass-hats that wouldn't leave me be about my faux hawk?  This ging stepped up to the plate. She won.  

Everything was wonderful about today- save the fact I stilll can't find my wallet.  I woke up happy, showered, threw up the do into it's wonderful ginger wave, slapped on my favourite heels, had coffee- just an all around awesome day.  There was no way anyone or anything could ruin this day.  Not even a gaggle of pea-brained wrestlers. 

I was to have dinner with my queer and everything was ordinary- get some food, get some drank, let's scarf this and bounce.  As I was pouring myself some raspberry tea from the fountain, I heard it- the rooster call.  I look back and there they are, all sitting at the long table exchanging girly giggles and smirks as if I didn't know where it came from.  I look to Queer, "This is the day. One more time and no more."  I smiled. I felt confident. These boys didn't have any idea who they were fooling with.  I had waited for this moment a long time.  I walked confidently towards some fellow RAs that were already seated at a table.  "This time you have backup." Queer reassured me. 

"Ca-caww!" I smiled that Red Menace smile my mother had warned everyone about. Show time.

I whip around to face all of them and slam my food and things at the end of their table.  " Okay, which one of you is doing the damn rooster call?!" My voice, loud, but not yet booming.  "Uhh," one of the ass-hats started, "I think it was someone over there..." he trailed off, gesturing toward the soda machine.  Before he could finish I cut him off and was louder than before.  " No you asshole, I think it was you! all of you! Because you do it every time I wear my hair up and I'm sick of it!! You want a cock then you should go suck one!!"  The bastard closest to me (the Ring Leader, as I refer him as) had the audacity to look me in the eye and say, "Present it."

Wrong move.

" YOU WANT ME TO WHIP OUT MY COCK RIGHT HERE IN FRONT OF EVERYBODY?!?"
A very soft "oooohh" from the cafeteria.  "Well, I'm out of here!" Said the Ring Leader.  Most of the gaggle left after that. You should have seen their faces.  I gracefully picked up my food, relocated it to the table I was headed, and sat down." The boys around the table I sat at now looked at me dumbfounded.  "Wow Thibby, what was that about?" Dugg asked me.  "I've been wanting to do that for a while now," I said with a smile as tears welled up in my eyes," and now you'll have to excuse me."  I escaped to a side room off the cafeteria to gather myself until the adrenaline cooled.  As I was about to come back to the dinner table, Queer greeted me at the doorway with a hug. "That was awesome, sweetie."  I walked back and sat down to the boys talking, "They totally deserved it." Said Half-ton ( A name given to him by our rugby team.)  "You wanna suck my cock?" We giggled and mocked together.  "Man, when a redhead is mad you know something's going down," said Half-ton. "Yeah, she'll whip out her cock!" said Dugg.  Not even five minutes later, our other friend... we'll call him Simba (because you all know by now I don't ever use real names)- came and sat down. " So I hear there's a story you need to tell me."  I look around the table and everyone is wide-eyed. Talk about a shot heard around the world! "Wow, that happened not even five minutes ago!" said Dugg.  I told him what happened and he smiled with a, "Good for you."  "Who'd you hear it from?" I asked.  "Everyone." Simba said.

Just a couple other friends came up saying that it was awesome, and one guy even said he'd dedicate his status to me.  Haha thanks Cowboy....

"You know big dicks like that don't like being put in their place. It might get worse." Queer warned.  "I know," I smiled, "and this time I'm more than ready for it."

Rugby is for Real Men

Red Baron.  This is the name given to me from the college rugby team I'm on.  I played my first game this past weekend and here's what I have to say about it.

In high school I always wanted to play football but never had the chance. "You're a girl." "You're not tough enough." "I won't allow it." Even when me and a few other brutal gals in the school tried to make a 'Powder Puff' football team, the principal said no because an incident three years prior- uniforms were not provided and the ladies wore baller shorts and one had them pulled off of her to reveal a thong underneath for all faculty and parents to see.

Those comments came from adults but the students in my gym classes had other things to say about me. "THIS IS NOT FOOTBALL!" Said a girl once while playing ultimate frizbee as I nailed her ass to the ground. Another time whilst playing soccer, I knocked the wind out of a gal just by bumping into her. And another accidentally got a boot to the head.... while he was standing. Did I mention he was 6'1 at the time?  Of course my favourite for last, playing capture the flag as a freshman with my youth group and running my youth pastor to the ground to capture the flag he possessed. He was not a small guy. I'm not a total ass by any means of the word, just stronger than what people would give me credit for with all of this aggression and nothing to take it out on.  I just wanted something- anything to show not all gals are defenseless. Not all gals are wimps and need protecting. I also needed something to teach me how to channel the force more specifically.

That brings me to my third year of college- a rugby team. Now, I wasn't stoked at first, seeing as how what I'd heard and witnessed of other teams, all they did was drink in their spare time and they were all a bunch of asshats that had no other friends but themselves because no one wanted to tolerate their hard-headedness.  Then I heard about who was going to be on the team and though, hey, maybe this will be different.... and it is.  I don't know how, but said college I attend has managed to ring in the sweetest most genuine rugby players I've ever met.  I watched their first game up in Montana- a defeat, but they learned a lot considering only a select few had even played before. As I watched I was more fascinated by the second, no time outs, no breaks every time someone hit the ground, pretty much a free for all with a little rules on tackling and such, but it was magic. 

A women's team? Oh yes. That was the first thing that came to mind. If there was that many in high school that had wanted to play footballs, who's to say there wouldn't be as many women here that would want to play a sport we all would be fairly new to?  I asked the captain how he got it started.  He said they weren't even technically a team, just a club.  The school didn't fund them yet, or arrange games for them to be at.   Why the hell not? I wondered.  When I returned to college, I talked to a coworker about a women's team. She was game, noting that she had played rugby a bit in Germany.  We immediately started recruiting.  I think the most we ever got to show was eight or nine... but as the week went on, there were a set four or five.  Not enough to make a team by any means but the few of us still practiced with the guys. 

Tuesday hit and practice was over, "So who is wanting to play for the game this weekend?"  I saw guys all over raising their hands, and Little Tank (her designated rugby name) and I looked around questioningly, wondering if we should raise our hands or if we were even included.  The Vice President looks back at me, "Red Baron, you coming?" "I'd like to go." I say in hopes. "Well alright then, go." A fellow player gives me a high five.  Little Tank raised her hand to go too. 

Friday at five, we met at the back of the field we normally met at.  Our faculty member (a lady friend of one of the players) had gotten a 12-seater from the college and a little funding for gas and a couple hotel rooms.  What a sweatheart. For the 20-somes of us, we split into the van and vehicles and were on our way. Got to our rooms, packed in there as we were, and woke the next morning to get to the field at seven forty five or so.  A bit early we learned... games didn't start until ten. We were misinformed. Nevertheless, started throwing, did warmups, just what we'd do in practice but nothing hardcore before a game. 

They even let me rock the faux hawk.  Amen.

The first game, I was a flagger... or whatever the hell they call it. All I know is that it meant I had to stay parallel with the ball and if it went out of bounds I'd signal which team got it.  That even meant going into enemy territory to be harassed by the jackasses calling my team fags and cheaters and harassing me about the assigned job I had to do.  "I'd appreciate it if you'd stop talking shit on my team, I'm standing right here." A little snickering, but they backed off.  We lost. But not as badly as the first weekend, so we weren't as down as you'd expect.

Then as another game was happening and we were waiting for our second game, the ref from our game took us aside and gave us some pointers.  We watched the rest of the game, then started getting ready for the final game.  "Whoever did not play last game is starting for this one." Ohhhhh lawrd.  I looked at Little Tank and shook my head.  This was it. Ohh boy. I tried not to get nervous. I'm Thibs, I'm unshakable.  I told myself.  Those that know me know that I tell myself this when I'm nervous.  Snakebites out, ring off, socks on, breathe.  "You feel comfortable being the hooker?" says the President.  "As long as I know what it is." They explain I'm to hook the ball with my feet whilst the team clusterfucks with me for a battle royale. (My interpretation hehe) "Okay." We practice the formation a bit.  It was showtime.  I listened to orders and followed that damn ball wherever it went. Lots of running. Tackling. Even got shouldered to the boob by what appeared to be an Asian/ Filipino mix. It was epic. 

We lost that game too, and if I remember correctly by a smaller dent that the previous game. I wasn't too depressed about it at all. I played damn RUGBY!  The team was super supportive of each other, giving the 'good game' hand slaps and 'you did a good job' gestures.  We had a shit ton of pizza afterwards and cake from one of the guy's anniversaries. His gal was there to bandage the players up.  Adorable. 

This has been quite the post, one of my longest but if you read all the way through thanks. It's been a while but I'll try to stay on it. This is a shout out to my fellow team members for making this sport what I wanted it to be.  Just an odd cluster of people getting together to represent something though that something might be different for everyone.