Video Olympics

Hey... sorry so long between posts...

I remember very early on in our relationship, perhaps even our very first meeting, when you told me that wonderful analogy... that old memory of hitting the keyboard keys to make that video olympics stick figure run down the track on the old Apple II... how you compared hitting those keys faster and faster to the time that builds up between sexual encounters... I fucking loved that... I knew we were meant to share our lives in some way when you threw that out on the table.

Sometimes I feel that way with this blog... it's almost like hitting the keys faster and faster is that build up of other bullshit that I write... some that I have to write... some that I write because I think it'll push my career forward... but it's almost never brutally honest... I haven't used the word fuck in any of the writing I've been doing... and that just ain't honest cuz I use the word fuck like six million times a day in daily conversation...

Anyway, I guess I get the occasional urge to really let loose, to let the shit fly without worry about who's reading it, repercussions, the impact on my career, my family, my golf game, my dog.... it's so nice to just not give a shit every once in a while.

I'm handling it all a lot better than years past. Talked about that in a meeting last week... I'm not so prone to grumbling and bitching... I know the Christmas bullshit is important to the wife and the kids, so I back off and participate as needed and give lots of smiles and hugs and just let it happen... cuz I think that's what God's will is... God's will is to keep Steve out of the picture as much as possible... at least when he wants to take action to make changes... let Steve get involved only when he's helping keep the Christmas magic alive for wife and kids... that's it.... when Steve's ready to start grumbling, he should take the fucking dog for a walk.

Christmas lights, fuses that have to be replaced, a Christmas tree that will be left alone for two weeks with lights on a fucking timer... bags and bags and bags full of bullshit and we haven't even begun to pack our clothes... two hundred Christmas cards out the door... holiday cookies... barely able to take a decent shit because my intestines are so backed up with shortening and sugar and butter and chocolate chips because I have no fucking power over cookies.... gingerbread that fills the house with delicious smells for days but pisses me off because it smells like Christmas, and that creates that immediate Pavlovian reaction of feeling the credit card burn its way through my wallet... scrambling so the kids can buy presents for their teachers... the stockings.. Oh God, the stockings.... when we're finally done shopping, blown the budget completely out of the water, the wife will head out "just to pick up a few little things for the stockings".... another couple of hundred bucks later and they overflow, candy, candy, candy that I will eat for weeks, and back up my intestines even more, the shit coming out in dribbly nonproductive rectum reddening squirts of guilt and remorse, and I will wipe my ass and wash my hands and open the cookie tin again before they are completely dry...

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas....