R.I.P. Angus Goldfish

For those of you who don't read Rev's blog...
1.) Shame on you!
B.)You didn't hear the tragic news...

My best friend in the whole wide world, Angus, recently passed away.
Angus Goldfish, died on September 7, 2009 at 7: 23PM.
He was born to a one finned goldfish named Lucky and grew up in Russian pet shop till he was sold to a midget stripper in Bolivia who wanted fish in her stilettos.
The midget Bolivian stripper was drawn to the United Stated in hopes to make it big.
However, fish in a shoe isn't really what strip joint folk want (who knew) and Angus (then known as "the fish in my left shoe") was quickly discarded.
One rarely misses a chance to see a midget stripper, and luckily, I was there.

Angus, so named for Angus Young from AC/DC (and because I REALLY wanted a cow), came to me with athletes foot and the gout, but after 26 trips to the vet, 3 years of physical therapy, and a visit by John Madden, Angus made a full recovery.

Sadly, after 9 years, 5 months, 27 days, 16 hours, 32 seconds, and 55 milliseconds, Angus died of Swim Bladder Disorder.

I was called at work by my crying mother (he was like a son to her) and tried to escape a little early to have a service all our (Angus and my) friends could attend, but that prick, Lt. Rogaine, wouldn't let me go, even though we had 3 full housing units.

So, because I got home SO late... I held the bowl side service, for a Goldfish among fish, that no one could attend.

Angus was survived by his two sons Bon and Brian, and his BFF (Best Friend Forever) Vinnie.
He was a proud member of The Fishtian Church of Bob, and a volunteer for the Boy Scouts of America's "First Look at Fish" Program.

He will be dearly missed.


Don't let 'em catch ya.

V.V.

I Need Some Space!

Really here, folks.
I could fill a small apartment with my big stuff, and a big apartment with my small stuff. (which I'm not suppose to sweat on)(not sure I get that...)
Of course, if I tried to get everything in my head into a building, I ah, need to rent some space.

On a more less serious note, my closet is full and the floor is getting close.
I have a walkway, from the door to the bed, and the chair...

I'm like a teenage girl with shoes.
More than 5 pair.
Black, brown, boots, tennis shoes, sandals, Chuck Taylors, work boots... few more.

Four or so "junk drawers."
It's all stuff I need, eventually.

I could get a storage building, but then I wouldn't have all the stuff I need, eventually.

More organization really isn't an option either.
Ya know, OCD and all.

Maybe I should just buy a couple of houses...

S'all I got.


V.V.

The Anomalies of Man

Confidence is a strange thing, isn't it Ms. Freud?
One may not have the confidence to make assumptions, in a conversation on the phone, or through text message, or Instant Message.
However, face to face is a different thing.
Text and IM are viable means of communication, though, much is left to interpretation.
Neither can be hear, so voice inflictions and body language are lost.
The phone is a bit better, one can hear laughter or patterns of speech.

However, one can not beat the absolute wonders of face to face conversation.
It compiles all means of communication into one, very interpretable form.
The words are all there, like text and IM.
The sound of a laugh, a smile, or even uneasiness is ever at the ready.
The pure visual effect of body language, which can be understood when there is but silence, on point.

So while a woman may be radiating pure joy and happiness through written word, it is the unspoken language, that brings it all together.

So, Ms. Freud, while slightly unsure through computer and phone chat, a man is much more himself when he can hear, see, and feel, that he is truly wooing his lady.
To not only see her face smile, but her body open up in a smile all its own.
To look deeply into her eyes and know that she's hiding her true feelings.
To see not only her tears, but to feel her pain when her body closes.

So while I may have my doubts through the week, I know, when I see your face and body smile, I am exactly what you want.


At the beginning of each new meeting, we start out somewhat nervous and tense, it takes only a short time for us both to know what was said without sound, is felt when seen.

Of course I'm confident when I'm with you... That alone is a sign I'm doing something right.


And while "The Notebook" plays in the background, and my thoughts drift to you, it takes but one look into your eyes to know... what we both know, but won't say.

Tonight, again, The Beatles.



Don't let 'em getcha.

V.V.