It’s Groundhog Day!

Buy the book, it is funny, and the money goes to a good cause

H.E. ELLIS

For those of you who just can’t get enough of the holiday spirit, consider purchasing the collaborative blogger eBook:

ICONIC INTERVIEWS –The world’s most beloved holiday icons presented in a collection of irreverent interviews that take on the backstory of their imagined existences.

Your favorite bloggers are interviewed as iconic holiday characters, each one zanier than the next. All proceeds from the purchase of this book are donated to the bloggers collective project known as Wrists Around The World. For a free copy of this eBook as well as additional works from H.E. Ellis visit: www.wristsaroundtheworld.com

AVAILABLE IN EBOOK FORMAT THROUGH SMASHWORDS

AVAILABLE IN EBOOK FORMAT THROUGH AMAZON

AVAILABLE IN PAPERBACK THROUGH AMAZON

I’D LIKE TO THANK THE FOLLOWING BLOGGERS FOR THEIR GENEROUS CONTRIBUTION:

Joseph Wakefield as the Groundhog

It’s Cupid!

Talker96 as Cupid

Inaugural Spam

Joseph Wakefield as President Roosevelt

Michael Wakefield as President Jefferson

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Happy early Valentine’s Day

Since local stores choose to play Christmas music immediately after removing Halloween merchandise from their shelves, I have decided to celebrate a holiday in which both myself and my lady both hate…Valentine’s Day.

When I was a kid, Valentines day was an embarrassing day in which the class’ ugliest girl gave unsuspecting and very handsome boys like me a valentine. Not only did they give us a card with a heart on it, but they expected a kiss and a card in return. I still nightmare at the thought of Titless Trudy and her barrage of homely friends flocking around my little wooden desk, all holding little home made valentines cards filled with hearts; lips waiting for me to kiss them. YUCK! In grade 5, the last thing a guy wanted to do was to kiss a girl, especially ones who smoked. (that’s right, in my time, grade 5 girls smoked). Yuck!

And then there was the drawing for Valentine King and Queen. The kids who received the most valentines were chosen to be King and Queen, and we all knew that fat Bernie George would win again this year. Not because he was vastly popular, but because he and his bullied buddies would be spending the last two weeks before Valentines day making cards and addressing them to Bernie, complete with fake names of fake girls. That guy couldn’t get a date even if he had to get a date off a calender.

Of course the same girl won Valentine Queen each year as well. This wasn’t because Bernie made her fake cards, or because she made them either. It was probably because I made her far too many cards. Despite not liking kissing, I would be ready and anxious for my first kiss to be on the hot red lips of Emily. But that didn’t happen. I had a crush on her since kindergarten, and unknown to her, I would have killed for a date. That didn’t happen. I ran into her a few years after graduation. A few of us were out drinking, and I, being way too drunk and way too bold, approached Emily and revealed to her that I have been lusting for her since I was a kid (I actually used the word ‘Lust’). If I wasn’t drunk, I would have died from embarrassment, but after her response, I was floored to the point that I sobered up in front of the gal. “I didn’t know you liked me, I always liked you too, and often I waited for you to ask me out” she said, and it felt like a Bazooka hit me square in the heart. Of course this day was Valentines Day!

My missus isn’t too fond of the day either. Despite being a beautiful woman today, and being a beautiful child (according to her mom and a few family pictures), she lacked the confidence she needed to compete with other girls in her school years. Because of her lack of confidence, she was often bullied, and never picked for Valentines Day Queen. She will always be MY Valentines Day (and every other day of the year) Queen though.

So around the house today, rather than the too much played Xmas music, you will be hearing romantic music. I have the entire house decorated in balloons, mostly red, and a beautiful valentines day card and a box of candy waiting for my girl when she gets off work. Who needs New Years Eve parties when you can celebrate valentines day on December 31, 2012?

 

To all out there, a Very Merry Valentines Day

image courtesy of http://www.google.ca/imgres?hl=en&client=firefox-a&sa=X&tbo=d&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&biw=1366&bih=638&tbm=isch&tbnid=2iiTKJpHjShfbM:&imgrefurl=http://rx-one.org/happy-valentines-day-prx-one/&docid=8pnYSCn-Nv800M&imgurl=http://rx-one.org/wp-content/uploads/2012/02/Happy-Valentines-Day-19.jpg&w=1024&h=768&ei=LOThUMSQJcSmqgHnvIHwBA&zoom=1&iact=rc&dur=676&sig=114394397029303400663&page=1&tbnh=139&tbnw=184&start=0&ndsp=20&ved=1t:429,r:13,s:0,i:193&tx=103&ty=63

Timmy

ever wonder how psychopaths start out? I don’t. I knew one. His name was Timmy, and man oh man, was he crazy.

I mean, how many fourteen year olds capture a small boy of just eight years of age, bind and gag him, drag him to an old saw mill, and proceed to fill every orifice in his body, as well as all his clothing with sawdust?

That’s what Timmy did to a small boy in our community. This happened sometime in the 1970’s, and although I don’t remember it, Spenser sure does. Timmy just left him lying in the sawdust, so tightly packed with the stuff that he was unable to move. Since the arms of his shirt were stuffed with sawdust, he was unable to move, and with his mouth filled, it is a wonder that he survived. His mother figured that he must have rolled over and spit the stuff out before crying out for almost an hour. When he was found, nobody had any doubts to who done this to him. Timmy.

Timmy’s parents were contacted, and they beat him for his actions (probably the reason for his actions in the first place!).

Timmy did other nasty things as well. There wasn’t a cat or dog whose live wasn’t taken by this teen maniac. He would string the poor animals up by the tails and then proceed to beat them to death with his fists. Since he was under the age of seventeen, the police were unable to arrest him and find a charge that stuck. Remember this was the seventies in rural Newfoundland. He was up for a psyche exam once, but somehow he managed to avoid it. His parents argued that there was nothing wrong with their son, and that it was just a phase.

One bright day in our little community, this phase ended.

I know what you are thinking. You figure that someone finally taught this nutcase a lesson. Wrong.

Timmy taught himself a lesson. Never listening to anyone, living a life of petty crime and insane acts, Timmy decided to try acid. One hit of acid, and he would never be the same person again. While some may say that it was a pity that one so young would burn out his brains on drugs, I think it was a Godsend.

No longer did we have to worry about the diabolical teen who waited at the end of the street on Halloween, waiting for our candy. No longer did we have to fear riding on the school bus and having our ears hauled and our hair pulled, or being tripped up in the school corridors. No longer did we fear living in our once quaint little community where our first action upon leaving our homes was to scout and make sure Timmy wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

The Timmy that resulted from his little foray into the drug world was a much easier person to live around. I think the acid caused his face to freeze in the same position it was when he tried the drug, because to this day he still sports the same crooked grin on his face.

He lives away from home now, in another province where he has absolutely no contact with anyone he grew up with, and even has no contact with his family.When his parents died, he never made the funeral, when his siblings married, he was not amongst the guests. The acid took over his life, a life filled with drugs of every kind. He has no identity left other than the drug world that he now enjoys. Sad really.

getting nostalgic here

SightsnBytes

It’s funny how certain things stick in a person’s mind. I will never forget the first bicycle I ever had. My parents bought it for me, and when I close my eyes, I can still see the  black metallic seat, with it’s gold glitter sealed under a coating of clear plastic. The frame of the bike was yellow, and it had ‘banana’ handlebars. The wheels were a full 20″, which made me feel real big when I rode it. The brand name of the bike was “Royce Union”, and it had a gold emblem on the handlebar stem. The bike was a single speed, and resembled the BMX bikes of today. This bike wasn’t one of those ‘cheapies’ that people bought from Canadian Tire, partially due to the fact that we didn’t have a Canadian Tire back then.

I was so proud of my bike, and like every kid, I…

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The party and a few lessons learned

My friend celebrated his 50th birthday last evening. His missus worked hard to plan a surprise party for him, and surprised he was, I think.

In order to get him to the party, she first asked if they could attend her work xmas party on the 29 of December, but he seen right through that one. Add to that the fact that he was moose hunting all day and all he wanted to do was crash and go to bed, getting him to the party was no easy task.

At long last, I called and asked if he could tow my car out of the ditch. Being such a great friend, he and his missus were quick to respond, only to discover that my car was safe and sound, parked next to the tiny ski chalet where the party was being held, along with fifty or more other cars, none of which were stuck in the ditch. When he came in, he seemed a bit pissed, but after seeing all of his close friends in the room, his mood quickly changed and he was all smiles.

Everyone pitched in to bring various home cooked goodies, and armed with coolers filled with ice cubes and beer, as well as other alcoholic beverages, smiles and laughter were a popular sight in the room.

Birthday cards lined the table, including the one I bought. Instead of Happy 50th, I jokingly picked up a Happy 60th Birthday card. I wonder if he noticed? I could have done more, but seeing how next September I will celebrate my 50th (and in the same week, I will be getting married, and one day after the wedding, my missus will celebrate her 29th birthday, I don’t want to stir the pot too much or else my friend may seek revenge)

My buddy’s wife booked a three piece band to provide tunes for the occasion, but when the lead singer slipped on the ice and broke his hip, the entertainment changed from a band to open mike with a backup band. At first it was good, as three musicians sat and played some traditional Newfoundland tunes, armed with a bass guitar, a rhythm guitar and a trusty fiddle, the entertainers had guests stepping to the tunes. Unfortunately the jigs didn’t last all night, and eventually a few way too drunk patrons manned the mic, and proved how badly they actually sounded. So the music was a bust, they should have hired me, but that’s another story.

I learned a few things during the night. The first thing I learned was that I cannot drink like I used to. The second thing I learned was that I cannot dance like I used to. I attribute those things to the fact that at 49, I am no longer 29. This fact was proven by one individual who also celebrated his birthday yesterday, and came to the party to make it ‘his’ party. At 29, the guy (no stranger to the drug scene and possibly to cocaine and meth) made a complete fool of himself, both by dancing like a bat out of hell, and stepping on everyone’s toes and annoying the hell out of everyone else, to grabbing the mic from one lady who could actually sing, and proceeding to holler so loud that he broke the microphone.

I also learned another thing. A drunken party is not the place for a lonely man. My cousin recently lost his partner, she passed away in late October after a lengthy battle with cancer; and since he was not dealing with her death too well, chose to remain alone in the home where they both lived. He stayed in the home, not going anywhere or talking to anyone, and the party was the first socialization he had since her death.  This was way too sad on a night where everyone wanted to be happy. I hope my friend manages to talk to someone about his grief; I tried to talk to him about it, but he shut me out. He left sometime before we did, hopefully he was okay.

Finally, I learned that drunk people get really brave after a few drinks. Some get brave enough to hit on my lady in front of me. Those drunks also learned something. Although my lady may seem quiet and laid back, she is by no means weak and she proved that she can take care of herself. To the guy who put his hands on her leg, I wonder if he will be fathering any children in the future? That kick to his midsection really sent him on his way out the door, didn’t it?

Like the old saying goes “It’s never too late to learn new things” (I think that’s how it goes), I learned lots last night. Today is a different story. How many times did I say “If I ever drink again, it will be way too soon (I think that’s how that goes)”, because the biggest part of today was spent in regret of too many beers, and way too few Tylenol.

To all reading this post, I wish you and yours a Very Happy New Year!

2012 in review

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2012 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

600 people reached the top of Mt. Everest in 2012. This blog got about 12,000 views in 2012. If every person who reached the top of Mt. Everest viewed this blog, it would have taken 20 years to get that many views.

Click here to see the complete report.

Death, dying, and a ten year old’s curiosity of it all

On our way to the in-law’s part of the province, our son asked if we could stop off at the local grave yard. The both of us looked at each other in astonishment. He is ten years old, and real curious to what death really is, he has been for quite some time. At the time of his grandfather’s death, he was sheltered from the entire situation, seeing how he is a very soft-hearted kid who nightmared at the slightest mention of someone dying. But much to our amazement, he is beginning to mature, and with that comes questions.

He asked his mother where his pop (grandfather) was, and his mother’s reply was “over there across the highway!”

“What! Pop is across the highway? Is he just lying there on the ground? How cruel!” he uttered. Of course now we figured would be a good time to explain the death and dying stuff to him.

“Can I go and see him? I miss him!” he said. We explained that the gravestone is just a reminder of Pop, and that although his body is buried in the ground, his soul and spirit are in heaven.

When we got to the grave site, and walked over to the headstone, our son took one look and said “So this is where my grandfather is these days. Dig him up, I want to look at him!” Kids! You certainly do not know what they will come up with next!

 

Wishing you and yours a very happy holiday

Here’s wishing all my blogger friends a very Merry Christmas, a Happy Hanukkah, or whatever powerful celebration that brings family members together

We are still here (because we are not all there)

I woke up Friday morning to see that everything was exactly the same as it was on Thursday night. I expected to see asteroids smashing the planet, chaos everywhere, people screaming…you know, doomsday. I am glad the nutcases who predicted the end were wrong.

I read somewhere that somewhere in Russia, a few con men sold people underground bunkers that would protect them from the apocalypse. The bunkers, which sold for enormous amounts of money (I put in ‘enormous amounts of money due to laziness in not researching the exact amount, but you get the point), with a clause (not Santa) that if the end of the world did not occur, the buyers would get HALF their  money returned. The cons still ended up with the other half of their hard (in Russia, HARD EARNED) money. It seems that whenever a worldwide disaster is predicted, con artists emerge everywhere.

I can laugh at those who would purchase an underground bunker anyway. If the end did happen faithfully on Dec 21, what would be the point to live like a bug underground anyway? If 99% of the world is going, I want to go as well. I watched far too many post Apocalypse movies, and I know what the world would look like.

You ever notice in those cheap low budget sci-fi movies about the impending future, the only vehicles are 70’s chevy’s and dodges? Where did they find those long gone autos anyway? And the people…they look like zombies, robbing and looting just to survive. Who would want to survive like that?

What I still find difficult to believe is that some people ACTUALLY believed that the world was going to end this Christmas. I know people in town who didn’t put up Christmas trees because they figured we would all be gone before the bearded one (No, not Willie Nelson..Santa Clause) would arrive. Now those fools are scrambling out to the way too busy Walmart to buy up whatever beat up fake Christmas trees they can find. Go figure!

I am still amazed that someone found a Mayan stone that closely resembled the side of an Oreo cookie, and somehow made the assumption that this spelled the end of the world for us. We seem to be ready to believe anything.

Just a short time ago, some nutcase predicted that on a certain day we would leave this world and travel on a space ship to another world. This guy made the news and actually  had followers who sold or gave away all their worldly goods to prepare for the trip. There is one born every minute, and another born to take their money!

Speaking of con artists, the night club and bar owners around here made a mint on the end of the world predictions. On Thursday night, local bars featured ‘End of the world’ parties, while on Friday night, they held ‘We are still here’ parties. Again, one born every minute, one born to take their money!

Hey, I just did research (on the not so dependable Wikipedia site) to discover that throughout time, man has been predicting the end, and coming up short each time. for more on the list, click HERE

And to think that we didn’t even wait until after Christmas to predict the end. If I was going to predict the end of the world (as we know it), I would wait until after Christmas so that I could at least get all my presents opened and see what people gave me…DUH! Just saying…

ATVs, Snowmobiles, and kids too young to drive them

Living in rural Newfoundland, and on the west coast of the province, we tend to get lots of snow. When I was a kid I spent untold hours playing in the stuff, sliding, making snowmen, and having snow ball fights with my friends (and enemies). Nowadays, that isn’t good enough for kids. They want their OWN snowmobiles.

Many of the kids in the community have snowmobiles of their own. The legal age for operating a snowmobile is 16, but some parents think that their 9 year old’s are quite capable of operating snowmobiles, and not the kiddie types either. Most ‘parents’ around here have opted to purchase full size and high powered snowmobiles for their small children.

The other day a friend asked me if I planned on buying my 10 year old a snowmobile. He said that he knew of a guy who had one for sale. My 10 year old doesn’t change his underwear and socks if he isn’t told to do so, so I don’t thing his maturity level is high enough to own one. I don’t think the other kids are mature enough either. I replied that he wasn’t old enough to drive one. His response was “aw, all the kids have them, they fly around my backyard with them!”. My response to that was that just because ‘all’ the kids have one doesn’t mean mine will have one.

He did have one thing right though. In winter, kids from the ages of 7-12 drive snowmobiles in people’s yards at incredible speed and with total recklessness. Not one parent sticks around to supervise them, and eventually someone is going to get killed. Nobody believes  me when I say it, but it happened before, it will happen again.

A few years back, one of my neighbors had the same misconception. Her youngest son of ten years (he would be 42 now) used to spend his time either driving a racing snowmobile or a Honda Big Red (an enormous and then very fast all terrain vehicle) around the community. He loved speed (what ten year old doesn’t), and even though many residents warned them, his parents refused to supervise him, or even tell him to slow down. One night while he and his friend were racing in the back roads, he took an unexpected spill, smashed his head on a rock (he wore a helmet but didn’t fasten it under his chin) and died instantly. Everyone in the community was in shock (well not everyone, I knew something would eventually happen) at the tragedy, and parents then took the action to take away the motorized vehicles from their kids. That was thirty two years ago. His parents said that maybe he died so that others would learn from their mistakes. By the looks of things around here, he died for nothing. Nobody remembers this little kid nowadays.

Last week in the news, a 39 year old man was struck by an ATV. The driver was a 14 year old boy who had been riding his quad on the highway and drove right into the poor man. Despite killing someone, he will only be charged on the highway act, and possibly get a small fine, bu given the fact that he is only 14, he will probably get off without being charged.  I say that if we allow our kids to drive vehicles made for adults, parents should be held responsible for any harm they cause others. Here Here!