Silence came on to his pen which made it to the pad of paper.  Blankness it all he wrote sitting there as if something would happen.  But the sparkling white pad shined back at him as if to mock- to tease- to contempt him.
“It’s the paper that is doing this to me!”  He exclaimed.  “I never had any problems writing before.”
Ah but before: words, sentences, paragraphs flowed like a river with no end.  Just the mere mention of something struck of a paragraph or two at least and then suddenly the page was crawling with symbols, letters and works as if an ant farm had just been molested.
He scratched his head and took another shot of JD.  The illing effect of it were begin to take a toll on his digestive system: pain shot through his intestines.  He was thinking the more he could drink the less the pain would matter.  So he did another shot- but this time it tried to come back up into his mouth.  Gasping for air he jumped up from his seat and straiten himself out.
“FUCK!” he screamed as he decided to get something to drink to get that sour taste of his mouth.
Knowing that a lot of writers used drugs to keep up their writing production was on his mind.  Hoping that this too would work in his favor was his reasoning.  He knows he can write.  He knows he has written.  So it would make logical sense that he’d be able to write in the future.  He just needed some prodding.
He was settled again at his paper; the sound of the analog clock clicked away as he stared blankly.  The alcohol was hitting him quite unexpectedly and his mind started to travel.  He was thinking of sex, happiness, holding a woman close to him, the smell of perfume and the smell of love.  And then he awoke, minutes later, again staring the page.  He started to laugh.

“If only I could find the words.  It’s so hard.”  He thought about it for another moment, opened the bottle of JD, took a swig, and put it down.  The pain was there again but he didn’t care.  Back he was thinking of the woman and feeling happiness.  And then he passed out.

Closet Hell

He was half dressed cowering in a darkened closet- the thunderstorm took him by surprise.  The door was barely open peering in only a minute amount of house light in as he shook with fear- a fear that he’d realized for most of his childhood and adult life.  BANG! He had tossed himself into a corner and all bundled into a ball like a small child that had be mistreated and abandoned to fend for himself against the world.
Loud noises have always scared him as a child: popping balloons, yelling adults and children, and the neighbor’s vicious German Shepard.   Sitting in the barely fenced in yard next to them the 150lbs mammoth waited in wait for any sound or movement to snarl and then spew it rage at the offending object, teeth bare, drooling reddish gums, and eyes that burned into your psyche.   He could remember it chasing him many a time into his house as a small child, barking loud even with his ears covered, running to his bed, covering up and crying for a good twenty minutes.  His mother was the only one that could reclaim his attention from that echo in his head- GRRRRRRRRRR.
Ringing his hands with sweat- CRASH! Another bolt of lightning struck just a few miles from his house but they could have been inside his brain as cringed and perspired- his muscles tightening in anticipation of another bolt.  He made uncontrollable noises with his mouth as his body shook and spasmed.  CRASH!  FLASH!  His eyes narrowed, tightened his fists, and turned away closing his lids to block out his world.  He prayed for it to be soon over.  The rumbles travel over his apartment like someone dragging a car across his roof.  “Please let it be over.  Please let it be over.” He murmured.  BANG!  He felt that rumble throughout his skeleton and his teeth began to chatter.  He closed his eyes and thought of a better place.  He thought of happier days: his mom comforting him after one of those “dog days”.  There was always her soft voice and tender manor.
“It OK dear.  The doggie isn’t going to hurt you now.” She would always say.
“Yeah- he just wants to rip my lungs out!” He was always feeling.
There would be her kiss on the cheek and she would hug. Her hugs were so fulfilling- so rewarding.  There was God in those hugs or at least you thought so when you were a kid.  You pressed against your mother’s bosom meant there was nothing in the world to fear:  no dogs, no bullies, no asshole brothers, no homework- NOTHING!  It was like white light and classical music in the most comfortable chair you could sit in with not a care in the world, no bills, no appointments, no strings, and no commitments if only for a few minutes.  He was in this world far, far away from his closet hell dreaming of his paradise when then there was the sound.   His eyes well up- as the sky does the same- RAIN.  He takes a deep breath and wipes his cheeks.  For a moment he was there back with his Mom whom passed away many years ago and that feeling of being comforted by her.  As the tears were as much for joy that the storm was over they were also for missing his mother as well.  He took a few minutes to reflect on that feeling- but she was gone.  He went on with his life.   Slowly he makes his way to the door and sneaks out a look.  Viewing out to his open window the wind violently blows in the sweet smell of ozone and spring along with fat droplets of wet spattering all over his tan carpeted floor.  He is reborn.  Running to the window to close it, he pulls it down with a sigh.  And a curious smile as he realizes he is standing in front of a very visible window in just his boxers and tee-shirt.  Back to the closet he goes to dress.

The Job Interview

I thought I had friends in prison.  I was telling my cellmate how the guys in the suits was asking me all these questions- ya’ know- asking those stupid fuckin’ questions over and over.
“We uh…finesse our clientele to give us what we want”
The one in the Brooks Brothers suit and Hilfiger tie had this stupid-ass smirk under his mustache I just wanted to fuckin’ rip it off his goddamn face.
“Ssssure you do Sammy.  But we want to know is how you ‘finesse’ your clientele” he said moving closer to get a better look at me.
“Well I’m a business man- I work and people really like me.  They pay me for the work I do…uh…in construction.  They are very happy with me- so they pay me a lot.”  I said with a toothy smile.  And that really got them all fucked up.
“I’m sure they do, Mr. Harris,” the young one chimed in.
He was dressed in cheaper pinstripe that was meant to impress but I could tell it was shit.  It looked like something that I would see the mortician wear to prep his bodies.  I wasn’t worried at all.  It was all under control.  They couldn’t touch me.  The suits are all stupid.
“Did you meet with Mr. Gregory on May 7th?” the older suit asked.
I leaned back in my chair and gave them a dramatic pause for a good effect and make them sweat a bit.  Clearing my throat and arching my back I came back at them.
“Boys.”  I says.  “We are all good friends here and I know if you want to pin somethinz on me you’d do it with or without my help.  As I know of two Mr. Gregory’s I’d suppose’n you’d need to tell me which of the two you might be askin’ me about?”
The younger moved in closer to my face so that I could see he needed some Clearasil.  Havin’ two teen age daughters of my own you go through a truck load of that stuff.  But seriously that ass-clown musta started shavin’ last week.
“We are asking…about the younger one.  William Anthony Gregory.” The kid said stressing each word as if they were painful.
“He wound up in a trash bin on La Brea chopped up into little pieces,” said the stache moving in closer.  By now the two of them stood over me like a pair of vultures ready for the kill.
“How unfortunate! He was a good client of mine.” I said flatly.
“Bet he was!”  The kid said sarcastically.
“But for how long?”  The older remarked.  “I think we are going to hold you for questioning, Sammy.”
“Excellent gentleman!” I said.  “It will give me time to get my lawyer here- he will have a lot of questions for you gentlemen also.”
The suits didn’t like that idea.  My cellmate was bored by the story.  I’m sure he’s heard it before.  But here the fuck I am and it’s 5 hours later.  Waiting for that prick to get me fuck out of here.   There must have been 8 of us at one time in this iron postage stamp of an incarceration facility with all kinds of smells and people here- druggers and drunks to fuckin’ crazy fucks.
“Yeah- we are all waiting for someone to get us out of here” another from the holding tank exclaimed as he began to laugh.
“Just don’t turn your back in here, man.  You are liable to get something you don’t expect,” another said with hard eyes that never looked at you.  Of all the people in the room I could tell he has been inside.  I’ve seen that look before.  Having my own dad do time is something you don’t forget nor is every little human piece of him that gets lost as the fuckin’ years tick away.
All the wackos were scattered about.  On floor was one blond headed kid tripping out on some bullshit for like 2 hours now since they brought him in.  I bet his ivy league parents must be proud of him.  Drunk guy is snoozing in the corner and he’s in an a-shirt and he looks like he was in a fight with the blood under his nose that has been bandaged.  Oh and then you have Hoodie boy slouched in the corner in baggie jeans and his Hoodie pulled over his face like the fuckin’ Thinker grim reaper.  There is one that’s just really quiet with a full beard in the corner in a dress shirt and Dockers- looks like he’s gonna cry.  One of them must be oozing ass cause it’s really starting to stink really bad around here.
“Sammy!” my lawyer finally arrives.
I move up closer to the bars and in his face to get his attention.
“You’ve made quite an impression on your friends the suits.”
“Yeah- I know- they love me.  Now get me the fuck out of here.”
“Strangely they’ve been rounding up our people all over town since you’ve been in here,” he said blankly
“They’re playin’ the game.  Lookin’ for a bite.”
“They are making you look bad Sammy.  Word on the street is…”
“Fuck that!  They are squeezing me in here and WE are NOT going to let them do that!”
I interrupted moving closer to his face grinding my words into my teeth.
“They are preparing an interview room.  They have more questions.”
“Martin.  They have nothing.  They’ve gone through all they have.  They’ve held me long enough.”
“You’ll be out soon.” He said unaffected.
I just lost it grabbing his coat and pulling him into the bars.  He looked at me behind his wire rimmed glasses with a cold blue eyed stare: his look gave me a cold shiver down my spine.  He released my hand from his coat as if it was infecting him.
“They are prepping the room.”
He puffed as he turned and walked away. I watched him go as if it was all in slow motion.  Suddenly it got strangely quiet in there.  Looking around I didn’t even see any guards as they followed Martin out.  They should know better than that but sometimes money has a better feel than responsibility for you own.  I felt someone brush me from behind and it was almost like I didn’t feel it but there is was first as cold and then burning in my side.  Then there was another- and another.  I was up against the bars and from all sides I was feeling jabbed and stabbed.  I clung to the bars with all of my life.  I wasn’t giving in and I wasn’t going down.  In a way it was a relief and in a way it made me mad.  I knew if I was ever getting out of this I needed not to make a sound- if I’d ever get to see my kids again- if they didn’t get to them first.  But I knew they’d be taken care of.  They’d be in another state, another life and they’d get a flag to cling on to.  And perhaps by chance a happy memory or two of their Dad (if their Mom would just allow me that).  My life was draining from my body and I held closely to chilly iron bars but I was feeling lighter and lighter.  My heart was racing.  And things were getting murky.  I knew that living my lifestyle would lead to this in time.  When I interviewed for this position I knew it had its risks.  It just comes with working undercover.

Malaise- Chapter 1

Her car pulled off in to a secluded parking lot just off the road.  The rain was coming down hard and made driving nearly impossible.  The sound was deafening although there were other thoughts running just below her glistening dark hair.  She moved her dainty hand to her made up face in order to cradle it because it felt too heavy to hold on it’s own.  She was crying.  She was hurt and she felt like running back to him.  Tormented between need, want and responsibility which fuels her anguish and tears she writhes inside her skin.   A car drives past her spraying her vehicle with wash from their physical displacement totally unaware of the sorrow inside.
“When will there be my happiness?” she thinks.  “When will it all be good for me?”

For this moment this is her place to hide from the world enshrined in her dark fabric and pleather.  Safe for now this hunk of wires and metal comforts her.  Cradles her; pacifies her; when no one else in the world could.  Well maybe one but she just left him standing in the rain.

Her eyes were drying up as if there were no more tears left to be shed.  She started the car, put it in gear, took a deep breath and took off.

He stood in the empty parking lot there in the rain just long enough to be soaked to the bone- and still he stood there:  his blue suit jacket, white shirt and pants sticking to him and making him feeling uncomfortable, his wet cordovan loafers and feet in now in puddles.  He was in his 30’s of average height and brown sandy hair with tinges of gray.  The sky was dark as well as the parking lot except for one sodium amber glowing street light far from him.  The rain pouring on his face and body was nothing to the torment that was going on inside.
He was wondering how long it would take to get her face out of his mind- the teary eyes, her pale cheeks, her red lips, her jet back hair cut short that played with her eyebrows, the cross around her neck, her expressive brown eyes, and her lighting up a cigarette as she was want to do to excess. A curious smile always pursed her lips as if she was in the know and wasn’t going to let you in on the secret- and a pinky to her lip keeping her hand with the cigarette a safe distance to her face and of course the tone of her hollow voice saying the last words of goodbye. “This was the end,” he thought. They had tried once before to break it off but this was it. No more. Nada. The fragrance of her perfume was still wafting in his fixated mind. The rain was coming down harder with the rhythm of an old blues melody- unwavering, tight, and unchanging. “What am I going to do?” he sighed as his jaw still lying on the ground catching the rain.
He moved to his car slowly as if partial paralyzed and sat in; the water from his clothes soaking into the fabric of the car seat. Still weakened and his heart racing he began to cry knowing what was waiting for him at home.  He waited just a little longer.  This time hoping that she would turn around and head back to see him- as she had done before. And up the road ahead she almost did- sitting a light- also crying feeling and the loss as well. Her thoughts getting the better of her with the sight of the long road ahead and in her mind the beginning of life without him. And so we all know- life goes on.
Into the house of Adam Csalas he walked in- still dripping wet but drier than standing out in the rain. Quickly inside the door he slipped off his shoes and but paid no bother to the dripping.  Heading strait for strong drink and took down a shot of Jack- neat. And then another and another. Its effects were not enough to allow him to do what he was going to.  Yet he was beginning to feel pleasant. His mind still fixated to Simone- the face that drove away that night and with her the happiness he had known. After a fifth his mind went back to their first meeting- what now seemed like too long ago. The thought that a mere remembrance can bring that feeling- in his body- warmth, tenderness, beauty and humor – and then anger, betrayal, finally hate- and an ache for all of this- again. By now he was cuddling the bottle on the tan faux leather couch- whispering to the bottle like a child wishing upon a star at night and hoping he would get his wish when he woke in the morning. With push he forced down the last drop and put himself into a sleep- a tear welling up in his closing brown eyes.
Clair, his wife of 30 something, long blond hair, thin and tall, and covered in bed in her baby blue satin pajamas had her heard him come in from the bedroom but continued to pretend to be asleep.  Wondering when he would find his way to bed, then hearing him wetly plodding down the hall thinking he was just going for some food.  She looked at the clock and waited: her patience waning.   After there was silence for awhile she decided to check.
At first she was worried when she saw him on the couch and then she saw the bottle.  Her pity turned to anger but she decided to leave him there and let him sleep it off.  Her brows wrinkled at how wet he was.  She bent over to give him a kiss and smelled an unmistakable smell: a fragrance that had become very familiar to her as of late although she didn’t know why- it was a woman’s fragrance.  She took a good whiff and decided to look him over more carefully but there was nothing except some makeup on his collar and on his jacket.  “It could have been mine” she thought.  “But that perfume was not!”  She wanted to hit him but she refrained- it would be better in the morning.

“Coffee time!”  She yelled impatiently to Adam from the kitchen.  It was already morning and she was dressed in her burgundy jacket and skirt with dark blouse.  “Wake up already!  Work! Remember?”  She moved over to him on the couch.  He still was cradling the bottle and snoring lightly.  She looked at him with pity and scorn and started to slap his face lightly and then heavier.  “Wake up already!” She repeated with the slapping.  Adam continued to snooze.  Clair became even more irate.  “All right” she thought.  She wrote out a letter and found a baby safety pin and pinned it to his shirt.  Then she moved over to the curtains and opened them as well as the blinds pulling them as open as they could go flooding the living room with the morning sun.  “That will teach him!” she thought.  She grabbed her coffee and left the house slamming the door behind her heading on the way to work.

It was four hours later that Adam woke to drool on his face, heaviness on his chest and sun in his eyes. He couldn’t remember if he had closed the blinds in the family room but last night when he got home he wasn’t sure what was going on. Occupying his space was his grey and white long haired Persian named Zoltan that had been using his shirt, tie and coat as a warm and cozy space to hang. A paper pinned to his shirt, “We have to talk” was written on it. He was sure it was his wife’s handwriting but didn’t remember her leaving that morning.  His moving scared away the cat and the Jack was still talking to him as he made his way from the couch and to the kitchen to throw-up. Standing wobbly over the kitchen sink with his clothes still damp and musty, and he’s nauseous only the way it is when you’ve had a bottle of whatever the night before is and wished to God you didn’t and then- what seems like your body wants to turn itself inside out- the dry heaves. This continued for what seemed like several eternities and then some. Each time Adam was thinking that it might be easier to cut himself open and take out his stomach by hand. Weakened and blurry he made his way back to the couch- the sunlight streaming in made his life unbearable. Slowly he got up and closed the blinds the best he could and laid back on the couch- eyes closed to block out the entire world the best he could. “What kind of a world is it that would let this happen,” he thought. “Could he go on?” he thought.  Would he want to in his semi-loveless marriage to Clair or would it be better to be alone?
Adam laid there on the couch wishing this was all over. His first instincts wanted to call Simone but he knew he had to break things off. Now it was time to suck up to Clair and that was like venom in his mouth. This woman was draining him emotionally if not physically. It’s not like he didn’t love Clair. There was a time when they first met when things were so much different.  Laying there he long for the time when they met and things were different:  when he seemed to mean as much to her as she did for him.  Now he seemed like a second class citizen.
The phone rang. His head started to chime with it. Should he get it- what if it is Simone? What if it’s Clair? What would I say? To either? The phone rings again. AW FUCK! I need to get this one way or another- take my lashings now or at least get this GOD DAMNED NOISE OUT OF MY HEAD!! RING RING! WHO IS IT??

Best Intentions

He said “Everyone has the happiness they need they just need to look for it inside themselves”

I pulled back my long stringy blond hair from my face and squinted my eyes in disbelief- as I don’t believe everything men tell me- especially after just breaking up with my boyfriend- and pushed up my chin a little.

“What do you mean by that?” I asked.

“Well it’s true. I think people continue to go around looking for the perfect person or thing to complete themselves in life when they don’t need to look for anything but what’s inside them” He said with a mystical smile.

The alcohol was starting to kick in and I was wondering how I got into his apartment to begin with. Oh yes- we came home from work at the same time and he and I caught each other at the mail boxes. I don’t know why I said yes to a drink? Why indeed? His face looks so young until he smiles and then you might catch the lines around his eyes. I know he’s older than me. One thing I had to say he was every bit the gentleman.

“Are you a profit or just a bullshiter?”

Every tooth in his mouth was visible from across the room.

“Well darlin’ you are going to have to figure that one out.”

I snickered at the darlin’ remark. When was the last time they used darlin’ in this century? Time to change the subject.

“Why did you invite me here?”

“Why do you think?”

Oh great- answer a question with a question- BRILLIANT! He was getting a little to comfortable in that Jack and Coke on the couch.

“To get into my pants.”

He paused with a look of distain.

“Is that what you think?”

“That’s what most guys want.”

“Well…I’m not most guys.”

“So far you aren’t like most guys.”

Let’s get the record strait the evening is still young!

“So far”

He rolled his eyes. There was a lull. We drank some more trying to pretend there wasn’t. I played with my hair and he pretended not to notice.

“So why am I here?” I said almost slurring.

“I don’t know- you came here.”

“But you asked.”

He sat there so helplessly. He really is kinda cute.

“And I thought maybe you needed some where to talk- maybe let go some of that…”


“Oh…Energy from the very public breakup?”

Oh yes- the breakup. Ralph my live-in boyfriend for 2 ½ years decided to ride his Harley up the steps of my second story apartment to ask me one last time to go riding off with him into the sunset. That just started a screaming match with the neighbors all standing around wondering whether to call 911 or to kick out his sorry ass. Ralph was a little bit of a dramatist. Well the cracks in that veneer had already been showing. YES! Veneer! And I say words like ‘indeed’ I went to college! Penn State in fact- don’t let these hoop earrings fool you: just because I don’t have taste doesn’t mean I have class- majored in English and work in advertising. There is more to this chick than boobs and hair.

“Yes.” I said with a little smirk.

“Some place to say- this and that in a OK- way that isn’t going to be rattling in your head or around your apartment. Cause I’ve been there…I know…”

Awww that sounds so sweet. I moved over next to him. I thought he would jump.

“You’ve been there?”

“Oh yes- been there….done that…rattled around…in silence…with no one to talk to about things…lots of anger.”

“And no one to hear”


“And you’d do that?”


“For me?”

In his face.


“Why not?”

“Because we are neighbors?”

“Because I’ve been there.”

“What are you sick?”

“No- I don’t think so.”

“Are you GAY?”


“Aren’t I your type?”

There he goes he jumped up!



He stood there looking at me for an instant looking me over and I was getting insulted. I’m a fine looking woman that could get any 25-28 good looking guy at a club with a snap of my fingers! Now I’ve been already broken up by my boyfriend this week- do I need this old man in tan short and polo to be putting my off now too? CHRIST!

“Well- I really hadn’t thought about it but fine- but don’t you want to get over one relationship first before you go jumping into another?”
I just batted my eyes.


Train Ride

Mama says the trip to Grannys won’t be that much longer, but it’s already been too long. I’m uncomfortable sitting here in this train seat. I promised Mama I’d sit here quietly and not run around like the other children and I have been a good girl so far but my legs are getting tired being here (and I got to wear my comfortable dress). I need to stretch! There’s nothing to do except look out the window or look at the other passengers on the train.

The grass has all turned to yellow and the sky is a deep blue above us you can barely make out a cloud in the sky. There are fields and fields of sunflowers as we pass. In the towns as we slow we blow our horn loudly as tiny cars wait at the crossings- almost like ant crossings with cement electric poles hold the wires above. I’ve been out of the big city before but when I come out here it’s always different to me: even Mama and Papa.

Papa sits across from Mama and me in the bench across. Today he’s dressed in a black coat and he looks worried. More worried than usual. He tries to smile at me when I look over to him but I know he’s doing it for my benefit. Mama also is in dark clothes. She gives me a brave smile, holds my head to her chest and gives me a kiss on the head. I almost hear a sniffle and then she lets me go. I don’t know why they are so sad.

HEY! A kid in the seat behind me is at poking me with their feet from the side. What parent would let their kids do that to another. That’s not good manors and my Mama always told me good manors. Now they giggle as they do it. Mama told me not to move.

This seat is a blue-green color like the car my Papa had a long time ago. I remember riding on long trips in the back seat jumping up and down and he and Mama would yell at me.



I really like that car. I was sad when he had to get rid of it. I was hoping to be able to drive it when I grow up. It was so much fun.

Listening to the click-clack and staring out the window I’m thinking of our garden home in the city. I have a little garden of bright red dahlias and yellow and brown peonies. In the morning the birds come by and serenade at our breakfast. The house is by a stream and sometimes there are frogs there. I can hear them at night from my bedroom window when the moon is full and the air is hard to breathe- it just seems to lay on everything. I sit up in my bed- sometimes I go over to the window look out and wonder what they are trying to say. It’s tough to sleep on those type nights- the smell of the flowers, the croaking of the frogs, the heavy of the air, the bright of the moon it just attacks all of my senses: it’s like God doesn’t want me to go to bed – there is just too much for me to be alive about!

I can’t wait to see Granny. I brought her, her favorite chocolates. Strait from the city. See Granny doesn’t get out to the city any more since she’s been sick for a while. Mama said that something hurt in her and the doctors can’t fix it. She also said that I might not be able to see her when we get there but she didn’t know. But she told me to wear my most pretty dress to cheer up Granny if I do happen to see her. And I thought a box of her favorite chocolates would go a long way to cheer her up too. Don’t you think?

Thought between commercials

Audrey and I are sitting home alone disgusted with the shows on TV.  Yes, it’s true that House is on but I like it better when I can DVR and zip through the commercials.  Well anyway, this sitting home has got me thinking and I’ve come up to the conclusion that I’ve been giving up one of my rights here.  For years I’ve really come to speak through the written word and now that I haven’t been writing, I guess I really haven’t had much to say.  No- I’ve had a lot to say but I just haven’t been saying it.  In the early days I felt I had a lot to say and thus blogging my little heart out on YAHOO 360.  I felt also that people were reading and that in itself was my encouragement.  Now with all the different avenues for people to read and ingest information I’m feeling lost in the crowd.  Why blog when 100’s of other people could say it better, smarter and worst of all funnier?  Where is the motivation?  I thought the last year and a half would have given me all the time to write.  It has.  I just haven’t used it.

ABC’s of me

Cut, paste and return, if you have the time and the inclination.

ABC’s Of Me :

A – Age: 40  I’m happy at 40.  I don’t feel 40.  I hated 39 because I promised myself that at 40 I be something so at 40 I know I’m a nobody.  I don’t have to worry anymore

B – Bed size: King!

C – Chore you hate: I don’t hate any chore.  I hate excesses of any one chore- too much vacuuming, too much laundry- etc.

D – Dad’s Name: Robert Charles

E – Essential start your day item: Meds!  Vitamins.

G – Goals you’ve set: To learn to be me.  I’m not sure I know how to do that.

H – Height: 5′ 9″  and of course  eight inches…

I – Instruments you play(ed): Guitar, piano, bass

J – Job title: Senior Network Administrator

K – Kid(s): None.  Can’t have them.

L- Lasting memory:  There are so many!  I think my life is full of memories: my grandfather dying, my grandmother dying, drinking 15 shots of JD- going to the bathroom and coming back sober.  There are so many.

M – Mom’s name: Marie Louise

N – Nickname: Eddie Spagetti

O – Overnight- I remember when I was very young my mother took my brother and I to Kerney, NJ to pick up my Dad who had an accident with the new car.  (it was totaled and we had to get something else)

P – Pet Peeve: People that have children and don’t want to spend any time with them or ignore them.

Q – Quotes you like:
“You can lead a horticulture but you can’t make her think”

R – Right or left handed: Right handed,  but really not sure I should be- I’m stronger in my left hand

S – Siblings: One older brother, Robert

T – Traits: I’m trying to make everyone like me.  I’m always trying to please people and I usually get along with everyone

U – Unusual talent(s): I can tie cherry stems.

V – Vegetable you hate: lima beans, Brussels sprouts, beets.

W – Worst Habit: I’m trying to make everyone like me.  I’m always trying to please people and I usually get along with everyone

X – X-rays you’ve had?  I had my fill.

Y – Yummy food you make: I can make a lot of different food.  Watching the food network usually gets me to make something different.

Z – Zodiac: Cancer, the crab.  And yes, if I don’t know you or I’m hurt I’ll be jumping into my shell.

25 things you probably already know but were afraid to ask

1. I love Cheryl Miller!  (Wait does that one count? It is supposed to be about me!)
2. I like to write- although never do.  I’ve written one book, 3 plays and a musical all unpublished as of today.
3. I sleep on the right side of the bed.
4. I have 12 step addiction to the Food Network
5. I’m painfully shy in groups but very friendly one on one.
6. I’ve done community theatre in Reading, Allentown and Ephrata
7. I’ve stage managed about 20 plays in my life time
8. I play piano, guitar, bass and make mini-movies.
9. I was in a band (it’s name- “Neverwuz”)
10. For 5 years I ate an everything omelet with garlic power drenched over it at work for breakfast
11. I’m tougher on myself than anyone
12. I’m contently thinking of great things that will never discover the light of day.
13. I have a lump on my nose that appeared after my grandfather died.  (He had such a lump in the same spot removed in the 80s after they thought it cancerous)
14. I am bi-polar
15. I go out of my way to help my friends
16. My cat Audrey likes to lay at my feet at night
17. I feel I should have done better in life.
18. I crave constant attention
19. I love to cook
20. I have trouble letting go of personal or family things
21. I never smoked weed
22. I didn’t smoke until I was 35
23. I moved out of my parents house at 27
24. I have breakfast with my parents every Sunday.
25. I own a tri-corner hat, rubber hand, and a bullshit button.