Back to the Front!

Here're some pics of my good friend and adopted brother Erick Trusty. He's in Iraq because of the dog, Duko. Duko got orders to go over there and help Marines. Since Erick is Duko's handler, he's there too. There's something not right about a dog getting orders for deployment- even more so that a man in the Air Force should have to hang out with a Marine unit!

In order to grasp the magnitude of the sandstorm, Trusty said the pic could easily be extened six inches on each side, and maybe eight on top. The sound is really impressive.

The shells you see in the bottom pic were destroyed later that day. These guys find this stuff everyday. The terrorist swine have a lot of these at their disposal, but for each new day a little less than the day before thanks to our countrymen's work.

Just thought everyone would enjoy and appreciate seeing pics of a working war hero and get my brother Jason's pixelated genitailia off the top of my blog. Wouldn't want anyone thinking the wrong things out there...

My brother Jason

I found this picture of Jason not long ago, but before the recent trouble down in Houston. It's been edited for content, however, if a picture is truly worth a thousand words, then this sums him up quite well. I think "lovable cad" could go somewhere on his tombstone when that day arrives. He's about sixty pounds heavier now, but still pretty solid. This was taken before the drug days out in College Station I believe. Charles is credited with snapping the shot on a disposable camera just before mom, who was around the corner in the kitchen when this took place, could notice. In case anyone is wondering, that look on Jason's face is pride mingled with mischief. He has a lot to be proud of (wink,wink) and loved doing this pose in any venue, for any audience, but especially for the ladies. Thank God the boy is married now or who knows what kind of wierd, kinky escapades he'd be involved in. I love this guy!

Writer's Block...

I'm supposed to be typing a twenty page chapter two for my senior thesis. I have about four pages so far. Four. Nowhere near twenty.

I've been distracting myself with various bits of news, online entertainment and other things with the hope something in my mind will jar loose. I've joined a fantasy football league, read the latest news out of North Korea and Iraq, called friends and family I hadn't spoken with in awhile, bought more minutes for the cell phone, watched Charles play Madden Football '06 like a pro, watched the weather roll in, laughed at the little two year old kid across the street running around naked except for his shoes, envied the little two year old kid across the street running around naked except for his shoes, took off my shorts and typed awhile in my underwear- but not in the front yard.

None of this helped. Four and a half pages. Nowhere near twenty.

The rough draft is due Tuesday and my instructor is a feminist. Will she have mercy on one of her "extra chromosome laden, mutant oppressors"? Anything's possible I suppose. She's not shown the usual animocity her kind is known to possess: The bug-eyed slobbering rage many have expressed on national television during some "march to end all wrongs", their unshaved arm pits displayed with legs to match. She might tell me not to worry and hand in what I've got. Maybe some good old fashioned grovelling will sway her to do so. Perhaps I should run around her office naked, except for my shoes...

familia infimus or "How we almost beat up the guy we used to call dad", part 2

Okay, quick recap. My newly married, pregnant sister has been told by her (grudgingly, OUR)mother that in order to watch her own grandson three days a week while my sister and her husband are both at their prospective jobs, she'll need $50 a week. AND, because dad feels that sister didn't try hard enough to find her cat a home before taking it to the SPCA (he didn't know my brother-in-law took the cat to his and Sister's apartment) , she was to be punished by having the car he gave her as a wedding present taken away. This would keep her from work and sans a suitable mode of transportation for my little nephew and future niece. As her older brothers, Charles, Jason and I decided this wouldn't stand and made plans to gather in Houston and discuss the situation with the parentals, face to face...

I get to Houston around 7:30pm and call sister to let her know. She hadn't told mom and dad we were coming; I told her to make sure it stayed that way. Lindsey's parents, despite knowing the possibilties of the evening, were gracious hosts as always. I got a good homecooked meal for the first time in a week. Charles, Lindsey and Jason got there around 9:45pm. By then, sister had brought our little nephew over and we spent time playing with him awhile; at 11:00 pm he decided sleep was more fun. We sent them back to their apartment to wait out the evening.

It was huddle time, time to get the plan of action together before confronting our parents. Jason had been drinking. We considered that an asset; it meant he would be able to do the things Charles and I were less likely to do if diplomacy failed with mom and dad. We all figured it would in a matter of minutes. But Charles, in the way only he could, stressed to Jason that 'talk' had to take precedent, not action. Perhaps the parents could be persuaded to reason. Perhaps we needed to see their point of view. Perhaps this was all just a big misunderstanding and we could all go away happy that things worked out. Perhaps, but not likely. In truth, we knew talk wouldn't work, but had to say we tried. And we all agreed on the car ride over to mom and dad's house that if one us was going to jail that night, then all of were going to jail that night. Needless to say, our mood was sullen.

We get to the front door just after midnight, looked at each other as if to say, "Well, here goes!" and knocked. I was expecting the parents to either be in bed or playing cards. They weren't. Dad threw open the door and sized up the situation immediately. It had to be the expressions on our faces. He drew in a deep breath, mustering all the condescension and mock-pride he could and let out a large welcome, "Well look here! ALL THREE of my sons have stopped by to see me! This is great!" His tone reassured my sense of impending failure. It had been nearly a year since all of us had been together in one place; he knew our being there on the front porch at that time of night wasn't without cause. Charles edges in, looks him in the face and says, "We need to talk." "Wh- what about?" I walk past and say, "Let's go sit down." Jason says nothing, he just stares the man down as we approach mom.

"Now wait a minute," she stammers, "if this is about [sister] and if you're here to cuss at me like he does (motioning towards Jason) then you can just leave. I won't have that-"

Charles holds up a hand and tells her that we want to hear their side of things and that Jason understands we were all there to talk. The livingroom smelled sour and unkept. Mom and dad had been doing some kind of late night remodeling with Bruce Springsteen blaring on the radio. She sat on the couch and would only look at Charles. He and I were sitting across from her in chairs. Jason decided to stand and flatly rejected dad's half-hearted offer to sit. I could tell dad was scared, but what pride he had left was puffing up like courage on the surface. Jason could hardly contain himself; he was in form. Dad tried standing, but ultimately sat; I think my brother's withering stare was getting to him.

"Let's hear you side of things mom," Charles calmly requested. She started with the activities I already mentioned from three weeks ago. In retrospect, that's how we know she knew our reason for being there. It also betrayed her guilt in this sordid matter. She knew her actions and those of her husband towards our sister were not right in any sense of the word. Her behavior and that of her husband was not worthy of anything approaching honor. The both of them were taking advantage of, or really bullying, a girl who was in need; the fact that this girl also happened to be their daughter didn't seem to faze them at all.

As mom tried to explain herself to Charles and I, dad decided to try and take hold of the situation. I could sense his pride getting the better of him. Afterall, WE were in HIS house. This made him IN CHARGE. How dare his sons- of ALL PEOPLE!- come into his dwelling at that hour, demanding an explaination of HIM?! Towards HIS DAUGHTER! The gall we must have to question his motives!! He looks at Jason, whose stare had only intensified when mom began, and whispers, "Did you just get here?" Jason bites out a curt, "Yep." "What about Dan, did he just get here?" "He flew in." I caught dad's quick glance my way and nodded knowingly. He was trying to size us up and egg Jason on at the same time, but my little gesture threw him off a bit. I wasn't just listening to mom, I was also paying attention to him and Jason. And dad can, when he remembers, be shrewd. He knew that I was the only one big enough to keep Jason in check. What he didn't know and had to gamble on was my willingness to do so.

Mom just got to the part about throwing bottles away that she had bought our nephew when dad tries to interject. I hold up a hand as if to say "hold on", and dad decides to play his "king of the castle" card. "You will not tell me to shut-up in my f*****g house!", he yells. I lean forward in my chair, look him in the eye and with raised voice (but not quite 'yelling') reply, "I didn't tell you to shut up in your f*****g house. I'm trying to-" At this point dad goes to get out of his seat and that's all Jason needed as a sign to end diplomacy.

"That's right! Get your ass outta that chair ol' man! Get up and let me knock you the f**k out!" Jason loves the f-word. He's an artist with it. I hate to admit this, but I love to hear him use the word because I really, really feel he means it in every context. But at that moment I knew what kind of danger we were all in. Jason had been itching to knock the old man out for years. This seemed like as good a time as any. There was three of us to two of them in a confined space that we had been allowed into, our old home! What were the cops to think? No B&E here, no criminal mischief. This was a domestic situation gone terribly wrong! Jason might very well kill the man.

Dad is quick to slide down the couch towards mom and then stand up. His little gamble worked. This gave me just enough room to get between the two of them. Charles sat and watched; I kind of wish I had. "That's right you p***y ass motherf****r! Hide down there by her!" Jason was reaching around me to get at dad. Dad's retort, "Y-y-your the p***y!" I inwardly groaned and was going to tell dad to shut up and stop encouraging the man when Jason knocks me down onto the couch. Folks, at this point, I really was scared for my brother! I'm a big man, heavy too. If I couldn't stop him from beating dad into paste, jail wasn't going to be an option for us, not in the state of Texas!

"That's right you p***y! Step to me! Don't let your fat ass wife stop you! Come face the beast you made!!" Jason has issues with mom and dad that go way back, and now they were surfacing a bit. "You chicken ass b***h! You wanna bully my sister?! Let's take this outside, lemme beat your f*****g ass out in the street! Come on! Face the beast you made!" I'd jumped back up and was between them. Mom was crying out "Stop it! Oh please stop! Get out, you're never welcom here again! I'm calling the police!" Charles stood up as I was pushing Jason down the hall. "We don't wanna go to jail for this bastard Jason. He ain't worth it," was all I kept repeating to him. We get out the front door and Jason proceeded to wake the neighborhood up with the insults he was hurling at the house and those in it. Charles stood at the doorstep, facing mom and dad. "This was poor form dad. We came all this way to talk, and all you did was show your ass." Dad gave his standard answer, "Son, we didn't do anything wrong." "You know dad, that's been the problem between us for so long: You never do anything wrong." "That's right son, we don't." At this point mom chimes in, "Get out and take them with you! None of you are welcom here anymore!" A calm "F**k you", was Charles' reply and with that walked to the car. Jason, still ranting, charges the front door after they close it. I imagine it made quite an impression. As we get in the car, mom makes on last parting shot. She had the phone to her ear, "I'm calling the cops, you better leave!" It was my turn to drop an "f-bomb" and did so.

We took off, dropped Jason at a bar where his friends were hanging out and said our good-byes to him. Charles and I then drove around our old neighborhood for awhile, trying to make sense of what just happened. What had we accomplished? Was sister still going to lose her car? What of the childcare situation? How were we going to help from Oklahoma?

We got back to Lindsey's parents' house quite late. We filled Lindsey in on what happened, called sister as well, then went to bed. We were out of town by 11:00am that morning. Sister calls us later that day to let us know that mom and dad had already changed the locks on the doors, the alarm codes too, and said they didn't understand all this fuss over a cat. As it turns out they also let sister keep her car and mom was going to watch little nephew for free until sister found adequate child care. Funny, these were the topics we'd come all that way to discuss with them, not the cat. And we didn't have time to discuss these things before "diplomacy" failed. Oh well, they got the point. I'll discuss more of the fall out later.

familia infimus or "How we almost beat up the guy we used to call dad", part 1

So last weekend I get a call from my pregnant sister down in Houston. It seemed my mom and dad had been pushing her buttons again, and this time, they pushed too hard.

My sister and her husband's situation is probably typical for anyone who marries young and has children early. That is to say they are a struggling new family which needs all the help it can get from family or friends. My parents live not four miles from sister, her husband and their year old grandson; my dad is a NASA engineer making more than $100,000 a year and my mother hasn't known a paying job in over ten years. When sister got married, my parents made all kinds of promises concerning the baby, who at that time was the only child in the picture, and gave them a 1999 Toyota Corolla. I say "gave", however in actuallity, no title was signed over and it turns out that this was the same car my sister was "given" for graduating high school just a few years ago. But when one is struggling to make ends meet with a baby on the way, one tends to overlook little facts like these initially.

My sister works as a store manager in a small picture framing buisness near downtown Houston. Anyone who has ever been to Houston knows that downtown is a rough place to work, drive in, drive to, and get out of- not to mention that downtown is a nearly twenty-three mile trip oneway. But that's where the work is and so she goes. My brother-in-law works construction out in Baytown, in the exact opposite direction of his wife's work. My happy little nephew needs to be watched three days a week, which my mother gladly offered to do at first. This was an opportunity to be with her only grandson (so far) and gave her something productive to do with her day. Otherwise she'd do as she normally does: sleep the morning away, watch afternoon TV, and eat. And eat. Occationally mom would buy her little grandson baby supplies such as pacifiers, toys or bottles which seemed to be no problem at the time. Afterall, mom and dad had promised to help out with the child in anyway they could, and for two people living the way they do on the money they have, a few bottles here and there was nothing. But then something changed...

Apparently tensions arrose when mom called sister at work to inform her that my nephew's first word was "Nanna", a moniker mother hi-jacked from my sister-in-law Lindsey's mother. Up until a year ago, "ma-ma" was what she preferred to be called by all her future grandchildren; I don't know what changed her mind. Then there were the arguments about how sister was holding the baby wrong or not letting him sleep properly or feeding him too much/too little. As a result of the bad feelings, mom started making sister pay for both hers and sister's cell phones since that last contract signed was in sister's name. On top of that, mom had access to sister's bank account and had started going in and taking money for supplies that she'd buy my nephew, without my sister's consent, then hide the supplies from her!! Of course my sister exploded over these things and called me to vent. She and I would talk about how to smooth things over with mom and dad. Afterall, good childcare is expensive and the help that had been promised as a wedding gift was hard to give up, regardless of the grief.

Okay, so there's a little background with many of the smaller details ommitted. Fastforward to three weeks ago: Sister calls me yet again, crying about how mom was going to get rid of the cat my sister has owned for the last six years and was told could stay at mom and dad's until a pet deposit could be paid to sister's landlord. Mom, having had access to sister's bank accounts, came to the conclusion that sister had had more than enough time to pay a deposit and was told to come get the cat or it was going to the pound. Now, understand that mom and dad live in a two-story, four bedroom, two and half bath house with only a chihuahua and the cat to share with. And my sister's husband is allergic to cats. There was really no need for urgency here concerning the cat, why was it there anyway? I told sister that even though mom and dad really shouldn't press the issue the way they were with her, it was their house and if they wanted the cat gone, then the cat had to go. She told me that she'd already considered that and bought time for the poor animal by promising to have a home found for the cat soon. Mom and dad agreed, but it still upset my very pregnant sister.

Fastforward to last weekend, July 31st: Sister calls me from her work, crying again. Now mom and dad are demanding $50 a week to watch their grandson and her husband had to come get the cat that very morning, or else. She sent her husband over there and my mom and dad wouldn't answer the door. They later told sister they'd stepped out to the hardware store, but they only have one car; it was parked in the driveway. My brother-in-law goes back over there a little while later and is admittedly short with my mom over the whole ordeal. The cat sensed it was headed for certain doom, and clawed and scratched every surface it could in an attempt to get away, including my allergetic brother-in-law. He gets the cat back home and tells my sister that he's going to sit out in front of the SPCA all day trying to find someone who'd take the cat if that meant my sister's nerves would be spared a little. While that was going on, she was BACK on the phone with me, just trying to vent and told me about the stomache problems and possible bleeding ulcer she'd been diagnosed with in the past month. Work, pregnancy, and family life was hurting her and my unborn niece. I calm her down, end the call and go on cleaning the house. She gets a call from dad just as she hangs up with me.

"Since you didn't try hard enough to find that cat a home, you're going to be punished! Let's see, what will fit the crime here? Oh, I know! We're taking back your car. When you get home, lock your keys inside and we'll pick it up later." My sister told me that's what he said, and since I've heard him say things like this before with my own ears, I'd say it's a pretty good quote.

Sister tells her husband, of course, and he heads back over to mom and dad's with the intent of straightening things out, man to man, with dad. This fails. Meanwhile, she's yet again on the phone with me. This time I'm pretty pissed off. I hang up, call my brother Charles who had been in Houston visiting his in-laws, but was an hour north of the city on his way back here. He hears what I tell him, including dad's little threat, and he goes nuts. He hangs up, calls my brother Jason in San Antonio. Jason goes nuts. Charles turns his truck around and heads for San Antonio while my sister-in-law Lindsey calls to tell her parents what'd happened.

I get a call at 3:15 pm from Charles. "Hey man, I need you to see what flight you can get from there to Houston on Southwest. Lindsey's mom will pick you up. I'm headed to pick up Jason." I comply, and find a flight leaving at 6:15 pm. Buying a oneway ticket at the last minute got me flagged with the TSA, but I didn't mind. The business with my parents was another story. I knew that if Charles was bringing Jason into town, then this was going to get messy, bloody messy... (to be continued)

Skid marks

So there I am, walking back in to work with a nice girl who'd just bought me lunch, when this lady I work with, I'll call her 'P' for now, comes toward us with this weird look on her face. I figure she's about to give me some kind of friendly grief about the 'lunch date'- in some respect I wish she had. As it turns out, while sorting through the women's panty bins located in the center aisle between accessories and intimates, 'P' found a little, white polka-dot thong that'd apparently been tried on, then placed back into the bin in a less than new condition. In fact, they looked more like used toilet tissue than underwear. It was also the end of her shift; she was going home. I had two hours left. So for the remander of the day, with latex gloved hands, I sorted through all shapes and sorts of women's undergarment fashion, inspecting each piece for evidence of prior use. Two things came to mind whilst performing my duty: 1) Retail sucks and I reallly, really need to finish my degree if I ever want to get out of it. 2) "Sugar and Spice" my ass! Girls are made of the same disgusting crap as the rest of us, and they know it.

I only found one more soiled pair of panties before the day was through. Hurray.