October Hush

My father passed recently and I have inherited his robe.  He wore this robe every morning for the last thirty or so years.  I have fond memories of him teaching me how to shave face.  Reading the paper.  Drinking the coffee.  Nylon pajama pant legs sticking out.  Now, it's my robe.  It's not pretty, but it has a hood.  Navy velour, grey trim.  Burn marks from dad's pipe tobacco and cigarettes that my mother once smoked.  It's just a robe.  That's all.  Ghost, why the fuck are we talking robes?  Because I'm leading in to the rest of this post, douchebag, that's why.  Oh.  Yeah, 'oh', you impatient fuck. 

I seem to have collected a lot of shit in my thirty years, and right now, most of that shit is occupying the GhostHooker garage.  I need to get rid of most of it, and I'm thinking of doing so this weekend.  Sorta.  My old sabre from military school.  My felt Stetson from my summer on the ranch.  My goddamned golf clubs that haven't been used this year.  Wait, I'll be keeping all of this shit.  Um, winter clothing.  Guess I'll be keeping that too.  Hrm.  This isn't going so well. 

I'll just get rid of all the papers and shit.  Yeah, that's what I'll do.  There really hasn't been a whole hell of a lot going on around here.  The Hooker is still pregnant.  I am still waiting for the second trimester.  That's the one with all the monkey sex, right?  The kids are doing quite well.  School is going well for me, I've made three friends.  Sorta.  Maybe four, I'm not sure.  We're campus friends.  I have managed to catch some side work doing yardwork for the Hooker's boss.  That's going pretty well.  Ugh.  Yeah, I'd write more, but honestly, there isn't much to report here.  Oh!  We're getting married in November!  That's pretty exciting.  Well, for us.  Maybe not you, but we're bout it.  Bout it. 

I guess I should start blogging my nightmares, maybe that would give me something to write about.  We'll see.  Watch out for falling corpses,

Ghost of Keywork

Here's the Shitty Poetry You Asked For.

So, after turning 30, I have realized a few things:

1. Other people are thirty as well.

2. Some people are, in fact, older than you.

3. I'm marrying a younger woman.

4. I have grey hairs.

5. I'm not too old to be a college freshman.

6. My kids don't know the difference.

7. I'm done writing about being thirty.

Now, moving on. A while back, I promised to post one of my poems with you assholes. And, well, here:

'Standing in on the Seated Arraignment of an Old Friend'

There sat Bob Smith in humility,
around him were words
sentences and small tokens
never apologizing only sitting
with him. Without him, around
him the person, him the myth
the myth of him as was telling more
over the glares and
under his oaths and promises standing
over us all and somewhere we see
friends and enemies, hooligans and hoodlums
little pitchers with big heirs, here, hear,
hearing those promises. Bad friends are good
enemies you keep in touch with
smiling again, the crooked smile
crooked smile that echoes the wills
I will do this, I will do that, I will do no
thing that may help the non-I
Bob, and us are all incredible bastards
standing in great proportion to the sitting
decent beings, the quiet decent beings.

You were warned. I fucking hate poetry like I hate fractions. And jazz. I really don't like jazz at all. Jazz hands, the Utah Jazz, Jazzercise. They all suck. Bring on the non-fiction, I can't stand much more of this shit. Also? Line Breaks? I don't use them well. I just throw all the punctuation away and call it good. I promise to never post shit like this again, really I do.

Social Problems

Imagine, if you will, that you were born to take a certain class.

Blueticks: 'Social Problems? That is a class that you should ace.'

GoK: 'Yeah, well...'

Blueticks: 'If you fail that class, it's because the teacher is fucking stupid and can't recognize raw fucking talent.'

GoK: 'Um, thanks, I think?'

Yes, Social Problems. A class where discussion topics so far have included porn, violence, medical marijuana and incest. Yes, incest. This, outside of the incest, is a class I could teach. And teach well. So far, I have made it a point to help my professor teach this class and well, she seems to be warming up to it. I run this class. No one has won an argument in this class against me, I am flawless. Why? Experience, experience, experience. Here is an excerpt from yesterday's clinic:

Teacher: 'Incest is legal as long as both parties are above the age of consent.'

GoK: 'So, I can screw my sister as long as we're both over 18?'

Teacher: 'Well, yeah, it's not illegal. Now, as a society, we find this to be morally wrong. Let's look at adultery now. There are no laws against adultery, but it may be grounds for a divorce.'

GoK: 'Ok, so what does this say about us as a society? Seriously? If I cheat on my spouse, I stand to be divorced and pay alimony, but I can fuck family members all I want as long as they are of age? Just sayin.'

Teacher: 'I'm not getting into that right now, we will hit on that later.'

GoK: 'What if I commit adultery with one of my relatives?'

Teacher: 'You're going straight to hell.'

I would like to note that I don't believe she was condemning me, but I could be in denial. Also, I'd like to note that I don't run the risk of failing this class because of my opinions and my verbal mastery. As long as I show up, participate, do the work, pass the tests, I'm good. So the discussions are like a bonus. Oh, and I'm blogging again. Look at me, look at me, I'm thirty. And dirty.

Read Between The Lines

So, my dad died recently. I turned 30 on Sunday. And as of yesterday, DPH is five weeks pregnant. Discuss amongst yourselves. Pssst, I'm so fucking excited about being a dad again that I can't contain it! Also, we're hoping for a boy. Oh, and 'Pulling Out' is most definitely not a form of birth control. Just in case you were wondering. Make ready the earth for a Pirate Ghost.

The Queen is Here to Make You Laugh

Word, peeps, it's the CageQueen here. I'm filling in for Ghost. I can't be sure but I think he's taking a blog break to attend his dad's funeral. If that's true, send him some warm fuzzies. That's a direct order.

I blog here and here. One of those sites is private because my husband's ex stalks me. Lovely, no? If you wanna see it, hit me up. Or don't.

Ghost gave me free reign to write whatever I want. I was gonna write about why the criminalization of marijuana is stoopid. You might've liked that post because I was gonna tell you an inspiring story. Then I thought I might give you some tips on how to make a marriage work. But then I figured the answer was too easy: sex. So instead, I'm sharing an email with you that I received this morning. I didn't write it so I take no credit other than giving you something that will make you exclaim, "Totally!" from the safety of your computer.

Random Thoughts for Today

I wish Google had an "avoid ghetto" routing option.

More often than not, when someone is telling me a story all I can think about is that I can't wait for them to finish so that I can tell my own story that's not only better but also more directly involves me.

Nothing sucks more than that moment during an argument when you realize you're wrong.

That's enough, Nickelback.

I totally take back all those times I didn't want to nap when I was younger.

The letters T and G are very close together on the keyboard. This recently became all too apparent to me and consequently I will never be ending a work email with the phrase "regards" again.

There is a great need for a sarcasm font.

Sometimes I'll watch a move from when I was younger and suddenly realize I had no idea what the fuck was going on when I first saw it.

I think everyone has a movie that they love so much, it actually becomes stressful to watch it with other people. I'll end up wasting 90 minutes shiftily glancing around to confirm that every one's laughing at the right parts, then making sure I laugh just a little but harder (and a millisecond earlier) to prove that I'm still the only one who really, really gets it.

How the hell are you supposed to fold a fitted sheet?

I would rather try to carry 10 plastic grocery bags in each hand than take 2 trips to bring my groceries in.

I think part of a best friend's job should be to immediately clear your computer history when you die.

The only time I look forward to a red light is when I'm finishing a text.

A recent study has shown that playing beer pong contributes to the spread of mono and the flu. Yeah, if you suck at it.

"LOL" has gone from meaning "laugh out loud" to "I have nothing else to say."

I have a hard time deciphering the fine line between boredom and hunger.

Answering the same letter three times or more in a row on a Scantron is absolutely petrifying.

My brother's baseball team is called the Stepdads. Seeing as none of them are actual stepdads I inquired to the name. He explained, "It's cuz we beat you and you hate us." Classy, bro.

Whenever someone says, "I'm not book smart but I'm street smart," all I hear is, "I'm not real smart but imaginary smart."

I love the sense of camaraderie when an entire line of cars teams up to prevent a dick from cutting in front. Stay strong, brothers!

MapQuest really needs to start their directions on #5. I'm pretty sure I know how to get out of my neighborhood.

Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died.

I find it hard to believe there are people who get in the shower first and then start the water.

Shirts get dirty. Underwear gets dirty. Pants? Pants never get dirty and you can wear them forever.

Bad decisions make good stories.

Whenever I'm on Facebook stalking someone and I find out that their profile is public I feel like a kid on Christmas morning who just got the Red Ryder BB gun that I always wanted. 546 pictures? Don't mind if I do!

Is it just me or do high school girls keep getting sluttier and sluttier every year?

If Carmen San Diego and Waldo ever got together, their offspring would probably just be completely invisible.

You never know when it will strike, but there comes a moment at work when you've made up your mind that you just aren't doing anything productive for the rest of the day.

Can we all just agree to ignore whatever comes after DVD's? I don't want to have to restart my collection.

There's no worse feeling than that millisecond you're sure you are going to die after leaning your chair back a little too far.

I'm always slightly terrified when I exit out of Word and it asks if I want to save my changes to my ten page research paper that I swear I did not make any changes to.

"Do not machine wash or tumble dry" means I will never wash this ever.

Why is a school zone 20 mph? That seems like the optimum cruising speed for pedophiles.

Sometimes I'll look down at my watch 3 consecutive times and still not know what time it is.

It should probably be called Unplanned Parenthood.

I keep some people's phone numbers in my phone just so I know not to answer when they call.

I think that if years down the road when I'm trying to have a kid, I find out I'm sterile, most of my disappointment will stem from the fact that I was not aware of my condition in college.

Even under ideal conditions people have trouble locating their car keys in their pocket, hitting the G-spot, and Pinning the Tail on the Donkey-but I'd bet my ass everyone can find and push the snooze button from 3 feet away, in about 1.7 seconds, eyes closed, first time every time.

It really pisses me off when I want to read a story on CNN.com and the link takes me to a video instead of text.

I think the freezer deserves a light as well.

I disagree with Kay Jewelers. I would bet on any given Friday or Saturday night more kisses begin with Miller Lites than Kay.

The other night I ordered takeout and when I looked in the bag, saw they had included 4 sets of cutlery. In other words, someone at the restaurant packed my order, took a second to think about it, and then estimated that there must be at least 4 people eating to require such a large amount of food. Too bad I was eating by myself. There's nothing like being made to feel like a fat bastard before dinner.