FUHGEDDABOUDIT

The Door Bell

So I set the ring tone on my cell phone to Ding-Dong.  forgot all about it and went to sleep.  Later that eve whilst in deep sleep some one was ringing my door bell, they wouldnt stop, I didnt want to get out of bed. who could it be?  Ahh fugheddaboudit stay in bed.    Nah I got up opened the door--no one was there, what, whats this,  Then I remembered I didnt have a door bell.

Next time someone calls me on the cell Ill probably answer the door.

A LINEMANS SPECIAL MOMENTS

So me and Joey G, two guys from Brooklyn now climbing telephone Poles for Bell South.  (They only put us together because of our tick axents wit only each utter could understan, Understan, Yo fugheddaboudit).  Anyways we were checkin out this big yard with a suitably bigass Rotweiller sittin on his ass and licking his balls.  Joey says to me Geez I wish I could do that, I said Shit Joey, I dont know, hes awful big and might not like that.  Trading barbs was what life was about.  We get up to the Pole, now theres lots of different sizes of poles, as well you women may attest, anyway this was one of your big wide and high guys. Oh a tip for you new pole climbers, if you hear birds singing dont look up.  So as Joey, badass a MF as Ive ever met doesnt like climbing poles so Im elected.  Now another tip for new or wanna be linemen.  IF YOU HAVE SMALL ASSES DONT GET INTO THIS BUSINESS!  So with my hooks (Metal spurs on my ankles) locked into place, my tool belt on with safety strap, 40 pounds just for these two, add a Line Hammer, wrench, hand tools, hardware etc. youve now strapped 80 pounds around your waist.  Cinch that bitch up Tight!!  Now youve got your electric tester heavy gloves, wide brimmed hard hat with sun visor, safety glasses electric meter strapped around your neck your ready for lift off.  (I usually said a Zen thing trying to become one with the Pole before climbing) you know like thank you pole for being here and honoring me by allowing to spike the shit out of your barky ass with splintering your tar soaked, water proofed, aresenic impregnated bug killer chemicals in that you allow the 1/4 inch of each of my spikes to firmly imbed in you and hold my 300 some odd pounds of flesh, sweat tools and butt crack to ascend to you highest plane.  (Fuck youd think I was talking about its Shakras)  By the way eating a pole (falling down while holding around it is not reccomended.  You get these big ass motherfucker splinters or arrow shafts imbewed, and remove any skin along with the stinging feeling of raw flesh.  (Especially painful when your partner pours alchohol all over your body)  So Yeah like telling Joey Gee (an ex mafiosa-for real) that he shouldnt lick the big doggies balls wasnt a good idea as he was designated alchol poorer.  (And cigarette lighers were always in his pocket).  Here I am in an easement (that strip of land between fences in a neighborhood0  Hooking a pole step by step, (fugheddabout steposize).  Finaly at 14 to 18 feet you safety off.  (unsnap one end of your safety belt from one eye ring wrap it around the pole and snap off to the other side.  So theoretically (didnt think there was much theory to Pole climbing did you.  Anyway you are now secured at three points, two hooked in ankles and waist sos as your hands and arms can proceed to bang, cut, fondle, screw in lug nuts, hang slack spans from hooks etal( gives me a woody just being to talk Belleese once again.  So heres the funny bit, with only one leg, my left one hooked in I reached around to unsnap by safety belt when my 80 pound belt starts sliding down my butt, now 1/4 of my ass crack is exposed,  I told you not good to have a small butt when you climb poles.  Dilema of Dilemas, if I didnt have a dick the belt would have been over my ankles.  So do I try to hook in my right ankle AND LOOSE MY PANTS IRRETRIEVABLY OVER MY BOOTS MAKING ME A BUTTUGLY STATUE WITH OUT ANY MOBILITY.  DO I TRY TO WORK WITH ONLY MY LEFT ANKLE HOOKED IN THE POLE AND GENNNTLY TRY TO SAFETY BELT OFF.  (REMEMBER IF I FUCK UP HERE I EITHER EAT THE POLE OR DO A TOTAL (AS TRAINED) LET GO AND HOPE FOR THE SOFTEST BUSH FOR MY TUSH.  OR MAYBE MY GOOD OLE FRIEND JOEY G COULD GRAB A LADDER AND HOPEFULLY BY THE TIME HE GETS BACK ONLY 3/4 OF MY ASS CRACK WILL BE SHOWING.  BY THE WAY TWO GRINGOS YELLING IN BROOKLYNESE IN A HIALEAH (MIAMIS SPANISH ONLY PART OF TOWN) TENDS TO DRAW ATTENTION.  SO ALL THE WOMEN FOLK ARE OUT IN THE YARDS CHECKING OLE STEVOS BUTT WAVING NAKED ABOVE THE ORANGE AND BANNANA TREES.  RIGHT NEVER SHOULD HAVE PISSED JOEY ABOUT LICKING THE BIG DOGS BALLS.  YOU GOT IT, LOST MY PANTS ROLLED INSIDE OUT OVER MY ANKLES, HAMMERS EXPOSED AND UNABLE TO DO MUCH MORE THAN GET A SUN TAN ON MY WHITER PARTS OF SKIN CAUSE THERE AINT NO WAY OF RETREIEVING MY SAFETY BELT AND JOEYS GRAND PLAN WAS TO ASK OUR LINEFOREMAN TO BRING OUT A POLAROID TO THE SITE.   NOW IF I JUMP THERES A GOOD CHANCE I LAND UP WITH A BANNANA UP MY ASS, NOW OKAY IM DOWN WITH EXPERIMENTATION BUT NOT WITH AN AUDIENCE, (GLAD THEY WERENT FRIGGIN PINEAPPLES) JUMP OR TRY TO ESPLAIN IN ESPANGLISH NO SENORA NO SOY UN PERVERTO CON UN GRANDE AMOR CON ESTE POLE DE TELEFONO.  LESSONS LEARNED, IF YOU GOT A SMALL BUTT AND WORK IN CONSTRUCTION BY YOURSELF SOME $3.95 FRIGGIN SUSPENDERS.  OH MY APOLOGIES FOR THOSE GOOD FOLKS ON EAST 6 AVE IN HIALEAH WHO BACK IN 1996 HEARD ALOT OF ENGLISH TALK OVER THEIR TELEFONO LINES TRYING TO ESPLAIN I AM NEKKED AND NEED A LADDER. 

OOOMPA-LOOMPA's

My lady friend and I had dinner at a semi-posh, (to me thats anything with higher prices than Denny's) when I saw this short waiter, bald with tiny, bowed arms.  The room was dark, candle lit tables,  (Score a point for Stever he bought Lady Caroline and himself matching key chain flash lights)  Who gives a fuck what we looked like straining with our old phart eyesight under the blue neon lamps at the menu.  Anyway I was checking out the prices (even if the ole lady was buying).  So Oompa Loompa man walks by and it cracks me up laughing.  D.C. is staring at me, knowing Im semi nuts anyway and said whazup.  I started singing OOmpa Loompa Bippity Boop or whatever and she stared at me like I was from out of space.  Now Im laughing even harder until I cry.  The only woman who I know that hasnt heard of Willy Wonka.  (no boys and girls thats not Melvins pet name.)  So I sing, hushed, so as not to embarass the wee lad, OOOmppppaaa LLooompa etcetcetc.  For Chris fuckin sake half the restaruant are staring half laughing the other half so stuck up that to laugh youd have to remove theyre hemrohids first.  So Oompa Loompa man is getting ticked and as I didnt want to get stuck in the ear with a salad fork I stopped singing.  Then at Donald and Evvys house I said, Dee, dont say anything and go with me on this.  I then began singing  OOOmmmppa  Looommppa Diiiiggdddy Ddoooo or what ever and not only did Don and Evvy join the choir but Alex the teen and the two dogs chimed in as well.  Now the only way to explain this was Donalds intelectulaization of the communications problem and start singing "We are the lolly pop kids, the lolly pop kids yadaayada"  D.C. got it but now I was lost ,  Youd think a lug like me who the difference between his WillyWonka from his wizardofoz.   Steve over and out.

HOW MUCH DOES SMOKE WEIGH? HOW MUCH DOES YOUR SOUL WEIGH?

According to a movie dialogue, it seems ole Sir Walter Raliegh placed a wager with the Queen as to how much smoke weighed.   I think the movie was named Tobacco, starring Harvey Keitel.  So the Queen who got turned onto smoke by Walt took up the wager.  Now heres the cool shit.  The dude weighs the cigar, lights up, smokes up and saves all of the ashes and bits and butt.   TOO FUCKIN COOL RIGHT! 

So here I am at a medial school where I ask myself the most basic of questions, not if the hip bone is connected to the thigh bone but what about the "ESSENCE OF LIFE" not even the meaning, or purpose, JUST THE ESSENCE.

I heard a rumor that a patient about to die was weighed before and just after dying, now unless farts are heavier than I thought some smart ass determined the weight of life.

Now I'm of the opine that life is a form of energy, a source we can not measure or define.  I mean look at a flame,  flames mesmerize me.  I mean look at it and you see the ethereal connection between our essence and that which transcends into the ethereal plain.  Lightning thousands of times hotter than the sun.  And now they have discovered that lightening has sprights, or whatever they call it. 

All I know is that when Im sitting at the beach alone listening to the roar of the surf there are simultaneously gazillions of telephone conversations going through my body, electrical magnetic microwave highfrequency waves etc flowing through me.  Going from hither to yonn.  I dont see hear or feel them but nonethe less its a happening.   

Would my life expectency be greater or lesser if I were living 100 years ago, (all other things, diet, health care etc. being equal)?

Here when they take a body off the rack from the cadaver room on the 4th floor,  after it was re injected with ultra embalming fluid.  You know giving you a 6 months shelf life type of shit.  Well first they take the steel rod out the neck remove the hooks put it on a steel table that is like a magicians drawer, it opens and allows the body to lower to the within the stainless steel cabinet. or raise, open the doors and presto changeo theres Charlie.  Open the ziplock bag get past the gag of the formaldehyde and other odiforous fumes and the pool of whatever nasty sticky liquid shit is dripping around.  Six or so kids are poking proding exploring pulling cutting this road map of the container a man named Arnold used to perform locomotion in while leased his bag of bones on this and in this dimension of, what, this 6th dimension?   Thats it, your alive and your a piece of gray meat.  Whats the difference, whats the part that makes you build things, think thoughts, create art, kill others, covet the seven deadly sins etal.  Whats the part that allows you to think in logical syncopathic rhythm, what makes us curious about why we are curious.  If it be but a form of energy not yet understood and we can ergo apply it to our law of physics, energy can neither be created nor destroyed, then where the fuck do we go.  Or when we get back does the person sitting next to you on the bus of that other lifes existince thing ask, Yo Dude where you been, and that only took the mili second of your having a passing thought in a world so vast as to make us, our lives our meanings, well to make us no greater than the itch on an atoms ass.

Do ants believe in God? Why not

So why shouldnt any living or inanimate thing not believe in GOD?  God is the leader of the stuff we cant figure out for ourselves so we develop "FAITH" LOOK THAT UP IN THE DICTIONARY PLEASE.  That there is  power greater than our selves that created all of this shit.  Hey it doesnt have to be cognitive or even nice.  It soesnt have to have a gender or even a form.  It can just be the sum total make up of all the molecules of all the shit thats in all the universe.  I saw where they let Zoo gorillas morn the loss of theyre eupnanized matriarch.  They grieved.  So is a matriarch a leader, is a leader a god form?  When Elephants pass by bones of dead they snniff gently nudge and eve sometimes rearrange the placement of bones.   So why are we primate human species special in our "definition" of what a god should be.  Do ants have god, I think so.  What do you think,  Steve [email protected]   sending you greetings of love and good vibes.

Serenade in the John

Im fairly modest about using the mens room whilst having to sit down.  I mean, you know in public, well its a guy thing.  So theres several favorite places around campus that I find both private, comfortable and inviting for such special monemts.  One favorite place is on the seventh floor, seldom used as it is by a grand auditorium with restricetd access.  Being head of Maintenance I have security clearance you see.  And in this new mens room with brightly fresh tiles and high end fittings and lighting one feels particularly invited to enjoy a days special moment of dropping the kids off at the pool.  Alas even more inviting is the one handicap stall.  Now in a building dedicated to the cure of paralysis this might not be the most propicious of places to take ones leave but alas after scouting the general area and if no event is in progress chances are that it will be a safe time.  I embarked upon my mission with great gusto, turning on the tap of the brilliant ceramic and chrome sink for the water cascade affect to add a touch of ambience.  TO MY DISMAY, the door opened to said mens room, aghast at using the handicapped stall, and further that by wearing work boots in a high security area my identiy might be given away I clenched.  Trying to hide my size 12 scuffed up steel toed black boots from public view whilst awaiting signal of whom invaded my domain at this most peculiar, yet special moment.  Within a moment the sound, foreign and unfamiliar of clicking clacking dragging and well and ?a pluck of a viloin string? was announced.  Is this a dream, a joke or is one of the mental patients on the loose again.  As events unfolded I shortly heard a tap tap tap, like the sound of a drum stick on a piece of wood.  Immediately there after an electronic tone, a Csharp I think was generated.  WHAT THE FUCK? then with all due alacrity the tuning of a Viola, I do know the difference of the basso profundo difference between a Viola and a Violin!  Well the tuning ceremony initiated into each of the four strings, then in multiple strings and even chords.  LORD LORD IS THIS A MESSAGE?  Then to my amazment and Joy of Joys a lone Viola player began to play a serenade so pure and resonnant as to lift my spirits with an abounding if not heart pounding place of heavenly delight.  COULD THIS REALLY BE, IS CAROLINE PLAYING A JOKE ON ME WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON.  To be courteous I gave a courtesy flush, not phased by odor nor dishonorable sound of FLUSH, SWIRL, SCHWASSHH.  My viola playing maestro, annonymous to me as I was to him carried on without skipping a beat.  It was wonderful, the acoustic resonance brought tears to my eyes, the Brahms or Bach or whomever composed this toilet concerto in C was brilliant as were the reverberant acoustics which penetrated into the matter within my physical body, vibrating my solid organs and liquid parts and bringing joy from the nectar my ears were perceiving.  A cough and voice, definitely a foreign accent, no American would have been so Blaise, perhaps he was Russian and used to cramped quarters, he yelled out , Hey what time do you have.  WHAT,  who was he talking to? to me?  To me?  sitting quietly trying to be invisible I heard a voice once again yell out into my stall hey MEESTER VHAT TIME EES EET.  Why five to one I announced.  Now feeling a comradery with my musical mystery freind, who minded nor smell, nor place nor this lug of a guy on the crapper.  With that he put the Viola down back into the case,  Clasped the locks.  packed up his timer and tone generator.  washed up (One could only presume from the noises I heard in my private handicapped stall, which embarassed me was using.  So with a Denks Paal he left the john where I immediately wiped, also with all due allacrity, and marveled at the most joyous moment of my public toilet experiences.  It brought almos a religious, a santictiy a two guys bonding kinda thing together.  quickly washing and leaving I realized that one of the student Docs must have been giving a special serenade to his fellows in the private auditorium to the right of the John.    Whewwphhh, how lucky was I that it wasnt a marching band or for that sake a Mariachi Band.  My spirits were lifted all day, I immediately wanted to ask the name of the Bathroom Sonata in C but thought it best not to push my luck.  So my new project in what ever home I land up living in will be to install a dvd 6.1 surround sound with amplified base into the bathroom, maybe even add fengshui with the touch of a waterfall!    Ahh its the little things in life that are so grand. 

ARE YOU HAPPY?

Are you happy, what is happiness to you?  I remember times past when I experienced happy moments.  Buying a toy as a kid, returning home from camp.  Being validated by the attention of a woman I thought was all that.  Lately happy is more a state of lack of sadness.  Although if I work on it with the tools I have I can achieve lack of sadness by thinking of all that I have compared, relatively to others who dont have as much.  There is happy that it isnt me walking around campus with an IV bottle of chemo plugged into my arm.  There is happy in listing my "gratitude list". 

Things mostly made me happy, validation of a lovely woman made me happy.  Shit, figuring out where I might be sleeping that evening or if I would have something to eat made me Really Happy.

Seems the more I have the more I want, and I live a modest life style.  But Happy?  If I had a Velcro relationship going on with God as God People Do I would be Happy.  I think?  Special songs make me happy, some drugs make me happy, (only the legal ones now though)  But aspirations achieved?  Maybe thats it?  Stevie Boy make yourself a wish list of Happy Shit.  Thats what Ill do this evening as I drift off to sleep.  That plus knowing I will have a roof over my head, at least for this night.  Remembering when I wasnt sure if I might live through the next day then realizing I would made me happy.

Maybe thats why I collect Disney Pencils with figures of Happy Happy cartoon thingies.  It triggers the happy moments.  Some of the things I used to do to make me happy were illegal and I no longer want those extensions.

Somewher down the road I have become a sad man who has happy moments and laughs at funny shit.    A Kid I might have passed my genes to, I dont have that.  Maybe Ill put a puppy on my list .

A really wonderful thing has recently happened that has made me happy.  having a name to put down to call in case of emergency is now available to me.  Its hard to let the sunshine in when youve lived in a cave for a long time.  Happy, is that my choice, why not?