The Sexiest Woman in the World

This past week i've been delivering flowers again. Today was a strange day, but in a good way, not a creepy, wish-it-never-happened-way. Instead of writing endlessly about the silliness I appreciate and or perceive, I shall commence with one of my original concepts for this site. And that is the lists. Ben Mattson wanted me to start one of these blog deals for that purpose solely. When I used to be in the future world dominating Rock and Roll band 10 Sugar Charlie (www.10sugarcharlie.com, shameless plug for great friends) I used to make ridiculous lists all the time. I was going to re-post the ones I found, mostly for his, and Matt's viewing pleasure, but I think unless there is a great demand for the old ones, I shall start anew. Most of the lists in the past were made in crowded and smoky bar tables as we awaited the the "headlining" band to quit playing so we could leave, or before practice. Sometimes they were just about james, or just about nothing. They are not necessarily top 10 either.
So today's list is............TOP THINGS THAT I HAVE NEVER EXPERIENCED OR SEEN BEFORE IN DECEMBER.

7. 74 DEGREE WEATHER. (today's high, for real)
6. THE SEXIEST WOMAN IN THE WORLD. (note to reader, this was what was written on the card for a lady i delivered flowers too. I was dissapointed, because she definately was (in my opinion) NOT the sexiest, or anywere close to the sexiest woman in the world, more proof that beauty is in the eye of the beholder). In fact, she was not even remotely attractive. But she did break a 4 day no tips streak, with a healthy 3$!!! Thanks Sexiest Woman in the World, I'm rethinking what I previously typed, you are a kind and generous soul!!!!!!
5. A DOG CADDY.
4. 3 OF LAWRENCE'S TOP WACKED OUT VAGRANTS ALL WITHIN THE SAME BLOCK. YES THAT'S RIGHT FOLKS, THE "I LOVE YOU" GUY, THE TREE TALKER, AND THE CRAZY PEACE MAN, WERE ALL ON THE SAME BLOCK TODAY.
3. Ignore this one
2. My fifth grade teacher appearing out of nowhere and following me for 3 or so miles in a blue pick up truck with a gargantuan JayHawk painted on the hood. I don't think he saw me.
1. Phil, as in the previous owner of the "Phil Zone" and former Lawrence Journal World receiver. He came in the store carrying two six packs of imported beer and wanting some flowers. "hey phil" I said, "i don't know if you remember me, but I used to throw your paper about 15 years ago." "Oh yes" he said...."I'm glad you said something"..........

those weren't in any order...........just some random coincedences, that made the day go smoother, oh yah, i also found my old Medicine and Dear Ephesus "cassette" tapes, so i listened to them today as I was driving around.

The Dead Don't Tip

I meant to tell you more about my current employment. But I don't usually like talking about work. I've gone great lengths to not be defined by my job, and hope I never am. (I'm aware that these "great lengths" have also made me quite poor and or not using my "potential").
When you're doing something repetitive, that's when the thoughts begin forming at rapid pace. When your doing something repetitive in a new or strange environment the combination is like baking soda and vinegar, and the senses are hightened like those of a weather tower.
Take a graveyard for instance. I spent a good little portion "on the clock" at a local, old, cemetary searching for George Bell's tombstone. "What kinda job is that? You may be asking in a southern drawl. Well, if I haven't already mentioned, I took a part time job delivering flowers on Saturdays. Since it's Christmas time, that Saturday has turned into everyday. This would normally be good, because that means less time working temp jobs in factories (wink wink, another post, another time). But it's also not all that great. Delivering flowers in and of itself is not a bad job, and I'm glad to do it.
I'm not good with directions. This is a recipe for disaster for someone in the delivery business. I'm learning quickly. All the street names I thought I knew, I found out I didn't. I drive by familiarity and landmarks, and creatively I might add (taking a different route just for giggles). Not so good on a time frame. Not such a good idea when the entire van is full of vases, and ridiculous arrangements with glass enclosed candles, bells, balloons, and other flower industry paraphenalia. Needless to say, I've improved my routing and all that by leaps and bounds. But every once in a while, when i'm finding everything, i'll be thrown a curveball at the worst possible time. This usually occurs right before closing time, and I find myself on the complete opposite side of town with a hideous hour glass visual (much like the one in the Wizard of Oz) pulsating in my mind. I hate trying to find houses that are hidden. It's not really a fun game like hide and go seek. It's more like stress.
Today I did great. I delivered fresh arrangements all over this town with precision, safety, and an award winning smile for all the nice old ladies (99% of recipients are old women, not hot college chicks like movies might have you believe).
Yes folks, I was regaining confidence. I was starting to believe I wasn't a hopeless , directionless, non-linear minded, numskull, until the last assignment. The Oak Hill Cemetary.
My very last delivery was too a headstone in the oldest cemetary in town. It's one of those that's kind of pretty, historical, but creepy when cold and very, very alone. George Bell was the target. I was to place a wreath at his gravesite. No big deal. You are given a section and a plot number. But guess what. There are no plot numbers here. So I find myself wandering around this forsaken graveyard, with gnarled oak trees, and biting wind, looking for the whearabouts of George Bell. He cannot be found. Unlike some of my living recipients, I cannot call him with the store cell phone. Round and round I rummage (respectively) about the sunken headstones, that brownish moss looking stuff enamered spires, and peruse countless inscriptions. After several section changes, I finally find some Bell's. But no George. A charles, a Georgia, Anna Belle (yes the moment was very "Poe") but no George. After calling back to the store, we surmised that on the side of one of the markers was a GEO....and then time erased the rest, leading to our conclusion that it was him. So I staked the easil with wreath into the ground and jogged back to the van. Don't normally see joggers in the cemetarys do ya? Well, I was just trying to save time. It really had nothing to do with those "spooky noises" coming through the trees.
I wonder if I really got the right site or not. Most of me wants to be respectful of those who chose to put these flowers there. I really did want to find the right spot. But the practical, average guy in side me says....no big deal.........there dead.........what good will a wreath do.............The strange thing is this tombstone was from the late 1800's. That's what made me wonder if I had the wrong site to begin with. But according to the boss, many families continue to commemorate the long, long gone. I guess that is an honorable thing to do.
An old cemetary is a strange place to be. It can be complety natural, and not a big deal at all. But sometimes you can't stop thinking of thousands of past lives, now moslty only commemorated by a rock with some barely legible writing. They tip about the same as most folks though.....

There's probably a word for that....

...So good folks, you may be wondering why I posted the lyrics to "Houston" by the Gatlin Brothers. That is a good question. I had my reasons. There was some really random connection I was going to write about that I don't really rember now. Sometimes I like to play that "Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon" game by myself, with my own dreams and or experiences. I guess it's a lot different than the Kevin Bacon game, 'cause I never really learned that one anyway, and mine mixes mediums with my own thoughts, experiences, garbled unused lyrics etc... And by dreams, I mean dreams literally. Mine are quite vivid, and recently quite terrifying. I don't know what the reason for that is, other than maybe a general dissatisfaction with the way life is going right now......but hey there's always hope right? Oh the dreams.....I should have just made this a topic in and of itself because it seems that I could go on and on about them. I didn't take too much pyschology in college, just the required stuff, so I'm sure there's some obvious stuff the more enlightned could tell you about actual dreams. I just like to explain the plotlines of mine, if there were any. When I used to live with Jeff, I used to tell him about mine, but I think he thought I was weird. Which, probably would be a true assumption. Hey, that's okay.
Anyway, what was the point of this non-sense? Oh yes, the Houston song. It maybe had been 10 years or longer since I had heard this song, and I never even knew who sang it, or necessarily liked it. Then A week or so ago, I have this dream were I'm walking around somewhere (a lot of the dream details get lost quickly if not written down)humming the song "Houston" (it would help at this point if you knew the melody to get the ""comedy""). And I keep asking everyone......"hey do you know the next line". And nobody does. The only word anyone knows including myself is "Houston" the title. Then the other night, I'm sitting at the keyboard reading up on something after I had watched the Ku basketball game with Dad. Dad is watching one of those pledge drives on PBS where they have concert footage, then between songs they ask for money ( I could tell you more about "pledge week" as I used to work for KPTS in wichita). Anyway, sure enough just like in a dream I hear the words to "Houston" coming from the living room. I ask Dad who is singing, and he knew right off. Guess I could have asked him the next line all along.
But this isn't the only strange "connection". The same day Dad and I were joking about going into business together selling cheap coffins for people who didn't want to waste thousands of dollars on something goign into the ground forever. We were thinking glorified styrofoam or plastic. That day or the next, I was helping out around the Flower Shop I deliver for lately and noted an odd coincedence. I was helping one of the girls in the basement put away all the fall non sense into these huge crate things they call "coffins". They are made out of styrofoam. Weird.
In one of my earlier posts, I mentioned being in quite a sour state of mind, and being cheered up when I heard that there was a band called The Ice Cream Sandwiches. Last friday Night I joined my friend Nat to see the Billions play downtown whom we are both fans of. Turns out it was their lead guitarist's last night. Guess who the opening band was. The Ice Cream Sandwiches. I might add that I really liked them too. Kind of experimental noise, yet a dash of slacker/jam rock all a mode hooks and riffs.
Maybe these connections make no sense. That's okay, Sometimes, in a quirky fun way, life seems to be like a movie about a movie, and "everything is leading up to something". (See the "Truman Show" for roughly paraphrased phrase). If you want to check out the ICE CREAM SANDWICHES here is a link, I think. http://www.purevolume.com/theicecreamsandwiches
Have a mysterious day.

"Houston" by The Gatlin Brothers

Houston, Houston means that I'm one day closer to you
Houston, Houston means the last day of the tour and we're through
Well honey, you and God in heaven above know I love what I do for a living, I do
Ah, but Houston, Houston means that I'm one day closer to you

Yeah singing at the world's biggest rodeo show was a great time for me and the guys
Ah, but when I'm a way from you, honey, time always never flies
Sleeping alone in the holiday hotel sure can make a cowboy blue
But here I am in Houston and I'm one day closer to you

Houston, Houston means that I'm one day closer to you
Aw honey Houston, Houston means the last day of the tour and we're through
Well honey, you and God in heaven above know I love what I do for a living, I do
Ah, but Houston, Houston means that I'm one day closer to you

Yeah Houston, Houston means that I'm one day closer to you
Aw honey Houston, Houston means the last day of the tour and we're through
Well honey, you and God in heaven above know I love what I do for a living, I do
Ah, but Houston, Houston means that I'm one day closer to you
Yeah honey Houston, Houston means that I'm one day closer to you

Sighs & Visions

This whole town is drunk. I'm only half way kidding. As I step out onto my front porch, and make my way to the car I notice three wobbly creatures, meandering down the sidewalk. Are they stoned out of their minds, or just being "merry"? Quickly I surmise it is the first one. Well, maybe more drunk then anything. But it's not just that they have the "wandering" aspect to them......their kind of creepy. The kind of drunk people that could snap and start killing, or rolling in the grass on a moment's notice. One guy is trying to catch up to the lady in front of the pack. The other guys is barely standing, and sprinkling the lawn with the contents of his paper bag. One heavely bearded partaker (note to reader, this is not a slam on beards, as I am wearing one myself) is giggling, and rolling his eyes, and just looking silly yet kind of evil at the same time. I'm in my car soon, and am off to return some videos and get some cabbage for mom's dinner in process. The drunken short lady waves. I wave back.
I'm driving downtown looking for a parkking spot and see a couple of girls waddeling down the sidewalk. Too many cheap margaritas. They are tipsy. It is now, almost 4pm.
They are everywhere today. Drunk people doing what drunk people do; not walk very well.