The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

The Hands of Time
14:12 Nov 27 2013
Times Read: 516

Slowly…reluctantly…I opened one eye and gazed at my alarm clock with the glowing green hands…I shook my eye and stared harder…I couldn’t decide which hand was the hour and which hand was the minute…is it the hour hand that has the slim cutout, or is it the minute hand that sports such? I could not even tell which hand was the longer, a sure minute hand identifier…but…I was sure of this…it was either 8:50 pm…or…the time could be 10:40 pm.



If indeed 10:40 pm was the correct time…that would mean disaster considering I start work at 10:00 pm and it being the last day of work before a holiday, that means I have to work a full day to qualify for my holiday pay…this being two days pay for this Thanksgiving. So…again…if it was 10:40 pm and not 8:50 pm, that would mean I was late for work and screwed myself out of two days pay and on top of that screwed myself out of two days pay after I had called off work Sunday night for my birthday, thereby already losing one day pay for the week.



IF…IT IS 10:40 PM…that means I will only have one plus days earnings and that’s a plus day earning only if I stay at work on this possible tardy that would nullify my holiday pay…not likely…I mean…if I am going to take a digger and that’s not only a monetary digger, but also an attendance point digger…I will be going back home…that is…if it’s really 10:40 pm and not 8:50 pm.



I reached out…took hold of my alarm clock and brought it right up close to my one sleepy open eye…



GET UP! GET UP! GET UP GET UP GET UP FOR THE LOVE OF GOD GET UP!!! MOVE…MOVEMOVEMOVEMOVEMOVEMOVE!!!! PICK UP THE FAN YOU KNOCKED OVER PICK IT UP PICK IT UP PICK IT UP! MOVE…MOVE…MOVEMOVEMOVE!!! GO GO GO GO GOOOOOOOOO!! PANTS SHIRT SHOES MOVE MOVE MOVE MOVE! DON’T SIT DOWN DON’T SIT DOWN HOP HOP HOP SHOES HOP HOP HOP HOP GO GO GO GOGOGOGOGOGOGOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! NO TIME FOR A CIGARETTE MOVE MOVE MOVE GO GO GO! CHUG IT CHUG IT CHUG THAT GODDAMN PEPSI GO GO GOOOO!!!! RUN RUN RUN!!!! GOOOOOOOOOOOOooOOOOOoOOOOOOO!!!!!!!



Everyone have a Happy Thanksgiving!

Winter
12:31 Nov 18 2013
Times Read: 530

Ah...my winter is almost here...I feel giddy...I love the snow and cold...it's when I walk.



I wear what you can see on my page...long black gentlemen's coat...black scarf…leather gloves. I love the cold wind blowing the hair about my face...I love the frosty bite on my flesh...the squealing crunch of snow beneath my shoes.



I walk...at night of course...in a very nice neighborhood and it's oh so picturesque. Nice neat trimmed upper middle class homes...further down the street even multi-million dollar homes. All nestled in snow drifts...their interior lights look warm and inviting...their exterior lights adding just the right touch of wealth.



I look in as I pass each one...sometimes I see middle aged couples wrapped in comforters watching television...other times a figure walking to another room...vague pictures on walls...clocks...ah ha ha the occasional family pet...many times they run to the window to look out...they seem to know I'm there...I never linger...I just keep walking.



Do you know what I see when I look in? I see falseness. I wonder what atrocities and horrors those warm lights mask. Surely they can't be as "Ozzie and Harriet" as they look...no...no...that cannot be. I often imagine the occupants running out as I pass and scream their horrible truths... confess to me what they truly are.



Yes...I love walking on cold winter nights.

Good to Know
13:55 Nov 17 2013
Times Read: 538

I’ve seen this commercial now three times…I am…of course…speaking of the new Loctite Super Glue commercial.



I’ve used this product…it didn’t remedy my split thumb nail…nor did it re-adhere the broken little piece from my automatic window button in my car and if memory serves I’m not sure said SUPER glue ever fixed anything in my possession permanently.



Now I get the drift…oh genius advertising titan…I understand your ad was to showcase the strength of said product…the problem as I see it…is…what you used for comparison.



In the commercial it’s shown, by magical glowing highlighting, that a portion, or a part of a jetliner’s engine is assembled using Loctite Super Glue…seriously? Did you think, or as I imagine, didn’t think, how this would reflect on the Airline Industry?



I don’t know about anyone else…but…I don’t think I’m going to travel on a machine whose engines, that are responsible for keeping my happy ass 30,000 feet in the air, has been at least partially assembled using Loctite Super Glue…a glue that cannot even stop a split thumbnail.



I would sue you.

The Wheel
06:25 Nov 16 2013
Times Read: 550

How does a hamster know to run on the wheel? Is it instinct? After all, they need no training, the hamster seems to simply…know. The wheel isn’t even a device of their making…how can they understand?



Does the hamster believe it’s traveled somewhere? Does it imagine it has run around the world after running so hard and so long and ending up where it started?



If one had a human equivalent hamster wheel in their living room, would there be a compulsion to run in it…or…would one merely sit on the couch and stare at it?

Green Bean Casserole
12:40 Nov 11 2013
Times Read: 585

I hate Green Bean Casserole…no…really…I hate it. It looks like something that would hang from a sick dog’s ass…does it not? Jesus…who could put such a vile thing in their mouth? What would tempt such an action? Hunger? Starvation? Could those sufferings make Green Bean Casserole look like a thick…juicy…steak? I think not!



And good Lord here comes the biggest Green Bean Casserole time of year! Thanksgiving and Christmas! That heinous concoction will be everywhere! On every table! I will not be able to walk into a room without seeing a glass dish of that most hellish entree’! And to add insult to injury, a glass dish that was made to house a chocolate cake! God I hate it! Do not make it! Do you hear me? For the love of God do not make it!



Oh I hear you….oh yes I do…”Have you ever tried Green Bean Casserole Mr. Tu?”…and the answer to that most silly question is…NO! How? How could I eat something I could never bring to my mouth?! Jesus…I would start gagging by merely putting a tad on a utensil! Preposterous! It will never…ever…happen!



Where did this horrible dish come from? Was it a joke dish at a first Christmas? A first Thanksgiving? Did the Indians do it to the pilgrims? Huh? Did the fucking Indians do it?! Were the pilgrims starving and threw every rotting item they had into a dish and cook it? What possessed someone to make this crap?



I will pray every night from now till the holiday season is over…”Please oh Lord…maker of awesome female breast flesh…smite down with heavenly force those that would make Green Bean Casserole…Amen”…then I will sleep like a newborn pup.



Please…I beg of you…please…no more.

The Art of Lying / The Nude Model Incident
16:46 Nov 07 2013
Times Read: 596

Many products and advisement's will come with a …”Disclaimer”…you know…we’re not responsible…it’s not our fault…we cannot control etc etc etc etc…well…I feel this little peek-a-boo into my past needs…demands…a…”Claimer”…so…here it is…



CLAIMER: I know I was a dickhead, an asshole, a prick, a loud mouth, one not of good judgment, careless, thoughtless, immature, self absorbed and just an all around dipshit.



There…I think that just about covers it…should you think of another descriptive comparison, please…please…feel free to add to the above “Claimer”…HEY HO LET’S GO…The Nude Model Incident.



We had learned that at our next Fine Line Drawing class, this was the one where we were going to have a live nude model! NO SHIT! AND A FEMALE NUDE MODEL! WOOT WOOT! This was spectacular news…we had known this was coming and I was a little concerned considering the class was primarily female…I was concerned they were going to spring a male nude model on us and that would have meant I would have had to miss the class…I mean…I wasn’t going to stand around and draw some guys balls for an hour and a half…I just simply wasn’t…so…as you can imagine…I was pleasantly relieved.



Our class and another convened at 9 am and congregated, beforehand, in the foyer, at the back entrance of The Toledo Museum of Art until the guards opened the doors.



There we all were…waiting…and a few of the gals were commenting that they were a little nervous. That’s understandable…this was probably (I know it was for yours truly) the first time sex was not going to accompany nudity…a loftier ideal was being aimed for…quite a psychological jump really (I know it was for yours truly)…so…there was a little tension in that foyer and what that meant was…I had a primed audience.



Now…I was not as mature then, as I am now…Ahhhh ha ha ha haaaaa…doesn’t that speak volumes…so…



I launch right into a impromptu “Bad Boobs Monolog”…”Blah blah blahblahblah…I don’t know how to draw sagging…blah blahblah blah blah…golf balls in the end of socks…blah blah blahblah blah.”…I am going on and on and on and I’ll tell you right now…I WAS KILLING! KILLING…BABY! I should have been on a comedy stage…KILLING…everyone was laughing! Alright…alright…there was one lady not laughing…but…hey…ya can’t please everyone.



The guards appear from inside and unlock the doors and everybody hustles off to the classrooms.



We’re setting up the easels…getting all our gear in order…some are whispering back and forth…one can feel the electricity in the air…A NUDE MODEL…and then a knock comes on our classroom door…OH BOY OH BOY…The Whacky Posturing Professor (TWPP) walks over and opens the door…says…”Hello…please come in.”…and draped in a robe…in walks…the lady in the foyer that wasn’t laughing.



Well…there was a single immediate collective…~Gasp~…and the room went silent and still…I don’t think there was even air in it at this point…I could feel all eyes on me as the blood drained from my face.



TWPP flashed a little confusion, but forged right ahead. She tells our model to disrobe and get comfortable on the duvet in the middle of the still deathly silent room…find a pose she feels she can keep for an hour or so…which the model does.



No one has moved or breathed…I can still feel all eyes on me…TWPP is looking confused…she knows something’s going on, but she doesn’t know what. She looks around the room at everyone and then looks directly at yours truly…this confirms in my mind that everyone is still looking at me.



I’ll be honest…I didn’t know what to do…I was a rat in a trap…I was starting to panic in my mind…the silence and staring was a huge weight pressing down on me…into the void of my mind I screamed…*MR. TU…MR. TUUUUU…HEEEEEELP ME…HELP ME PLEASE!*.



In an even…commanding voice…Mr. Tu said…”Oh wow…NICE…thank God.”



Everyone laughed…including the model…and then the class drew their first nude model.



Thank you again Mr. Tu!



Mr. Tu…”You’re quite welcome…sir.”

The Art of Lying / What She Did
17:02 Nov 05 2013
Times Read: 607

I had not planned on writing this…I do plan on writing (what would have completed a trilogy of artful lies)…The Nude Model Incident and The Final Lie…BUT…since I was asked this question…”What did she do?”…I’m going to tell you.



“She”…of course…was our irritatingly fake eccentric professor of Fine Line Drawing. She would wear the most deliberately whacko ensembles one has ever seen…she would sport a long green and purple striped scarf with a grotesque flowered print blouse with a pink skirt with lime green stockings with blue tinted sunglasses with a red coat with a black beret with assorted necklaces and bracelets (wrist and ankle) with a big clunky blue fabric hand bag sporting swirls moons and stars. In her high heeled black pumps he would stalk the halls of the museum as…The Whacky Eccentric Professor…I could have just choked her…but I digress.



I know what you’re thinking…”Maybe she was truly eccentric, Mr. Tu.”…ummm…no…see…the little old man, Paul Aubry from Party In The Park…he was truly eccentric…he oozed it…one knew he was nuts…this chick was posturing…but I digress again.



The assignment…draw 3 self portraits of one’s face at different angles. This is accomplished by using multiple mirrors so all one needs to do is merely look up and see their face from a different angle. And I should add here these portraits were to be of a serious nature…in other words…they were supposed to be our best efforts…I think we had 2 weeks for this.



The Whacky Posturing Professor, who from this point on will be referred to as “TWPP”, set up individual times for critiques…a little face time…a little one on one time (wonderful).



I arrived for my allotted time early and allowed to sit in and observe with a fellow students critique. This student was a beautiful little mousey gal with a great rack…GREAT RACK…and this had nothing to do with my early arrival…*winks*.



So the young miss takes out her frontal self portrait and lays it on the table for TWPP. One could see this little lady had ability…she had talent…needed some work…but…one day she would make a fine little artist.



TWPP starts in on her…”Blah blah blahblahblah…blahblahblah…blah…blahblahblah.” And as she’s blahing she starts writing her blahs ON this gals self portrait, along the sides. The young miss and I exchange a…*WTF?!*…look…again…TWPP is writing ON this young miss’s self portrait! I couldn’t believe it…I could see she didn’t appreciate this manner of critique…not one bit.



So…TWPP is prattling on and on about proportion or some such thing and then says…”Let me show you.”…she then takes a big rubber eraser and erases half of the face of this gal’s self portrait. Erases it! The girl was in shock and I have to say as was I! We again looked at each other in disbelief! THEN TWPP starts drawing back the half she erased…badly. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing…I was in awe of the audacity…the egotistical assumption…the delusional ignorance of TWPP.



Well…the girl was crushed…just crushed…she was close to tears as she packed up and readied to leave. I felt so bad for her…TWPP had destroyed this girl’s work…I was very angry.



The young lady walked out and closed the door and then TWPP reached out and took hold of my portfolio. I dropped a heavy hand on it and when TWPP looked up and into my eyes, I said…”You can critique my work all you wish…you can write said critique till your hand cramps, but that will be on something other than my work…you will not alter my drawings in any way…no matter how slight…do…you…understand?”…



Her eyes were as big as those moons on her hand bag.

The Art of Lying
16:59 Nov 04 2013
Times Read: 620

I attended college for a number of years…I was enrolled in The Fine Arts program at The Toledo Museum of Art through The University of Toledo. For Fine Arts majors they preferred a student complete the required non art courses…such as…geometry, trigonometry, the humanities and the like…first…before one ensconced themselves in the artsy fartsy realm…BUT…in those years I did take several art classes…those being…Sculpture and Fine Line Drawing…very haughty stuff…very haughty.



The Professor for Fine Line Drawing was a woman, whose name escapes me at the moment, and she tried very hard to be eccentric…she would go to great lengths to dress Haight Ashbury New Age Hippy Purple And Green Socked College Professor Chic’…this act, and it was an act…irritated me to no end…BUT…she held my grade in her hands…so…I played along.



The first idea they try to pound into one’s head is to not be precious with one’s drawing. Let go…be free…be wild…let it rip, so to speak. So one week, home work, was to do a series of 3 minute drawings…no erasing…no manipulation…simply complete a drawing in 3 minutes flat and one had to observe the ultimate first rule of Fine Line Drawing…always…ALWAYS…draw from real life.



One of my 3 minute drawings was of my sister Karen sitting in a chair with her new born baby…I think it was Lindsay…in any event…it turned out to be a fairly nice piece…except…Lindsay’s head was a little out of proportion…a little too large…but…hey…it was a 3 minute drawing…what do you want?



Flash forward to the next class.



Professor Chic’ has everyone sitting around a table as she takes the students 3 minute drawings and critiques them. Eventually she takes the drawing of my sister and her baby, I think Lindsay, and starts critiquing…oh she likes this and she likes that and this has a good feel and it would have been maybe better if I had done that blah blah blah blah blah blahblah. Then she says…



Professor Chic’…”Really the only true fault I can see with this is the baby’s head is too large.”



I had the shot and I took it…I didn’t care it was a lie…I said to Professor Chic’…”My niece is a special…needs…child…”.



It was very satisfying to watch the blood drain from her face…I am evil.

The Daredevils of Fox Avenue
02:36 Nov 03 2013
Times Read: 626






Well…I thought I’d enthrall with the continued bi-peddled escapades of The Daredevils of Fox Avenue…you know…like the summer we endeavored to ride our bikes off the side of the reservoir in the attempt of flying all the way down without touching the side of said reservoir resulting in many spectacular crashes and I should add here that Denver Blankenship commanding his big clunker bike “Old Blue” that had no breaks was the only “Rough Rider” that actually succeeded…I had intended to regale with this tale…but then…I saw this photograph and realized…we were all pussies.

My Freaky Body / Ostrich Toes
15:38 Nov 02 2013
Times Read: 634






Now before panic starts to get out of control, let me say first and foremost that no…the nail on my big left toe is not chipped…again…it is NOT chipped! I should also add at this juncture that the nail on my right big toe is a mirror image and yes…is as well not chipped. I call these digits my…“Ostrich Toes”.



These were acquired from a Schwinn blue metal flake 5 speed stick Sting Ray banana seated sissy bar equipped chopper bicycle from hell…mishap.



See…when I was a budding Genghis Khan, we knew dare deviling was taking our lives in our hands. We knew…KNEW…great bodily harm could come to…and often would…to us. We didn’t wear silly looking helmets…God…I can still see the picture of Obama riding that bike with that stupid looking helmet on…how embarrassing…anyway…we didn’t sport knee pads or elbow pads or shin pads or protective gloves and or shoes! We didn’t have mouth guards or eye protection or orange vests or cute little bottles of water dangling from our handle bars either! We wore cut off denim shorts and that was it…nothing more…when we saddled up…it was the real deal…baby!



I was riding on Fox Avenue one summer morning taking some sweet jumps. We used to set up ramps and jump the width of the entire street…all the way across…sure…sure…a number of rims were bent in the attempts…hitting the far side curb you understand…but there were victories…a few…the defeats never deterred us…we simply peddled faster.



I cannot explain in detail that fateful jump…I mean…those types of events happen so fast…it was a youthful indestructible blur. I missed and came down hard…hard baby…straight down on that asphalt street…WHAM! And somehow…I don’t know how…perhaps The Gods of Bikes thought I needed a lesson…who knew about those things…somehow…I got my feet into the spinning rear wheel and the spokes tore off both my big toe nails…yeah…hurt like a mother*cker!



Yes…I learned my lesson…should one dump their bike…push it away…do NOT ride that bad boy down! Anyway…



From that point on…40 some odd years…the nails on my big toes grow out all a kimbo. It doesn’t matter how many times I even them out…I’ve done that thousands of times…it’s no use…one side of each toe nail grows out faster and leaves me with the deformity…”Ostrich Toes”.



You might not think so…but…having “Ostrich Toes” does have advantages beyond the obvious. Remember Trudy? I wrote of Trudy before…Tuna & Peas? Trudy was a huge blanket hog…she would damn near take all of them, leave me with a corner, if I was lucky. Well…when she would do that, I would sinisterly start whispering…~Ostrich toes…Ostrich toes…Ostrich toes want blankie~…then I would slide one foot under the covers and start poking her calf with one Ostrich toe…~Ostrich toes…Ostrich toes…Ostrich toes want blankie~…*poke poke poke*…~Ostrich toes…Ostrich toes…Ostrich toes want blankie~…*poke poke poke*.



My God, you would have thought I was killing her…she would scream at the top of her lungs…” STOP IT STOP IT STOOOOOP IT!!”… ~Ostrich toes…Ostrich toes…Ostrich toes want blankie~…”STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT STOOOOOP!!”…she’d inch scoot away from me, but I’d just keep poking…~Ostrich toes…Ostrich toes…Ostrich toes want blankie~…”STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT!!”…she’d squeal and just go crazy trying to get away from my Ostrich Toes…GREAT FUN!!