Bafangool

I've been slow to post lately and there is a lot going through my head.  But, between being constantly busy with life and death and just generally trying to deal with things I haven't really been able to put finger to keyboard properly and be coherent.

However, I had to share.

I'm at work recently.  The other day, the other week. The other something. Time just kind of bleeds right now.

But I'm at work and this older lady comes into my department and is looking at options to replace her flooring. (by the way, I'm typing on a chromebook that I don't usually use and the keyboard is smaller and thus the keystrokes aren't exactly where I am used to them being.  If you catch mistakes, especially in spelling, it is because I either missed that correction or I just didn't care to keep fixing them).

This lady is older and italian. She is telling me about certain things she wants to do and that she has had quotes from other companies over the past 5 years. She is going into details I don't care to know but is also giving me good information so that I can help lead her to something maybe she would be happy with.

However, she goes into this story about how she had a flooring quote and a window quote.  The window quote, from a company I have no affiliation with, came back at like 50 grand or higher.  She is explaining how the guys giving the quote are trying to convince her to drop 50k because they work on expensive, multi-million dollar homes and those quotes are higher.  She says that "my house is 250k, why in the hell would I put 50k worth of windows into a 250k home, it makes no sense to drop that much money.

As she is talking and relaying this story she gets to the point where she turns the crew down and tells them that it is too expensive and she is not interested.

She looks at me and says, "You know, why the hell do they think my little house should put that much money worth of windows into it.  Bafangool!"

I pause.

I smile.

My eyes water.

I don't know if she caught it, if she ignored it, whatever.  All I know is that I'm having a good day and enjoying random conversations with strangers at work and this lady drops a Bafangool on me, out of nowhere.

In all of my years, 47 of them now, I have now only run across two people who I have ever heard utter this phrase.  

The first was my dad.  He used it a lot when I was in my middle school and high school years.  It was just a common expression from him.

Now, here I am, weeks after his passing and some random lady enters my life and drops a random Bafangool on me and shortly later just disappears to go off and think about what she wants to do, probably never to be seen again (by me - no one murdered her, no need to look into it).

I've come a long way from my younger years when I thought I was an athiest and now realize that I'm probably just agnostic.  I don't know what I believe in or where life is actually headed.

But, one thing I am one thousand percent sure of is that through this random encounter my Old Man was telling me that everything is going to be alright and to lighten the fuck up. Life is too short to waste it on being unhappy.

Bafangool indeed, dad, Bafangool!

I honestly needed that.

It's so hard to say goodbye

I have tried to compose this many times over the past week and have come up blank every time. The only conclusion I can come up with is that I do not want to accept the fact that it is real.

Every single day.  Multiple times every day, I find something that reminds me of you.  A look, a joke, a noise or even just a random drink on a table will take me back to a memory that is seared into my brain involving you.

That's normal. I spent nearly 47 years of life with you in one form or another. From living in the same house and seeing you daily to living across the country and only talking to you occasionally.

You were with me through the best times of my life and the worst times.  You got to experience the three greatest joys of my life and I can move forward with no regrets because of that. 

I started life with you in it.  You helped me grow older and turn into the man I have become. You helped me through some really tough years in middle school and through all of my younger asthma problems.  You were there for me in High School when I was a not-quite-typical teenager but still dealing with teen issues.  You were really there for me when I went away to college and you would drive mom up to see me at the drop of a hat.  If that was to visit or even just to come up and grab my laundry (because I was too lazy to do it).

You were there when I almost died of an asthma attack, multiple times in fact.

After college you were there for me when I went through a relationship crisis and the ended up moving across the country.

You were there for my next crisis and the next and the next.

You were there when I got married and when my children were born. You got to hold both of your grandbabies and love them and spoil them.

You were always there and you loved every minute of it, and even if you didn't you never complained.

This is what makes it all so hard, you were always there for me when I needed it and in your last moments I was unable to make it back in time to be there for you, with you.

I know that you know I love you, always have and always will. But, it breaks my heard that I have to live with the fact that in your final moments I wasn't quick enough to make it to you.

Feeling sorry for myself will not help, it just hurts. I'm just having trouble moving on.  I'm not dealing with your death well.

You can know something is coming and you can think you are prepared for it, but in this instance I realize I was not ready for anything.

I miss your voice.

The other day I was deleting some voicemails and I ran into the last one I ever received from you.  You called me completely by accident and you are talking to someone in the background.

I hit play and the moment I heard your voice I balled my eyes out.  I will never delete that message.

You mean so much to me and my life. What I am, what I was, what I will be.  How I raise my kids and how I hope they grow up. I am sad you won't get to see them get older.

Sad you won't get to see Jacob continue to play soccer, won't get to see Sofia become a balarina and do her crazy dances. Sad you won't get to throw pillows at them again or build things, see their graduation or weddings.

But you will always be there, you will always be in my memories and thoughts and I don't ever want them to fade.

I feel incomplete without you right now and I know that over time I won't be so sad and miserable all the time and I know that all of your suffering has ended and you have nothing to worry about and that everyone helping to take care of you can breathe a sigh of reliefe knowing you are in a better place watching down over us.

I just love you so much and I miss you so fucking much.

Rest in Piece dad. friend. everything.

I hope I do you proud.

 

Middle Aged John Wick

 Today I just at at home, alone and in the dark, watching movies and letting my mind melt.

My old man called me and we spoke for about a minute.  But, he called me because he was trying to reach mom and called me to ask me how to call her.

His voice sounds off lately, as if he is talking with a mouthful of cotton balls.

Man I want a beer or three now.

Movies.

Today I finished watching Halloween Ends.  I didn't get a chance to finish it last time because right near the end my wife realized that our 5 year old daughter snuck in and was watching and those end scenes are highly not appropriate for young kids.

After that I watched Champions, which is a movie where White Man who Can't Jump gets fired from a job, drunk drive crashes into police cars and then is sentenced to coach a special olympic basketball team. Overall it was very enjoyable. 

After that I put on a movie I had been wanting to watch for a long time, Nobody.  This turned out to be a highly enjoyable violent russian murdering romp.  It was essentially middle aged John Wick.

I need more movie suggestions if anyone has any good ones.

Keep yo Chin up

Life has been too busy lately but sometimes that is exactly what I need. Right now, in my down time, I am watching Air on Amazon Prime. Last night, with the wife, I watched Halloween Ends. Normally, these are the hours that I would be sitting down with a video game but lately I want to do less than think. I don't want to hit buttons, I don't want to decide the fate of the world. I want to sit around in my undewear and just let a good story remove me from my existance even for just a couple of hours. 

My son has Soccer practice 3 days a week. My daughter will have soccer practice 2 days a week. Sadly, they don't overlap. So, Monday - Friday will be practice and games are on Saturday. On my days off I attend every practice. When I'm working I'm taking long lunches if I have the chance so that I can join the practices and help coach the kids. And now, on Saturday's I'll be one of the guys coaching my boys U10 team since Coach will be coaching U8. It all started when a few members of last years team (including my kid) had to advance to U10 because of age. Coach didn't want to break the team up and next year the rest of the team will jump to U10 as well. So, after much talking and some buy-in from myself and a couple other fathers, the team will have a U8 and a U10 squad. It basically means that for the next year I'll be in a phase of never stop running. 

Right now, that is exactly what I need. Keep moving, keep myself and my mind busy. 

April 2022: 

This is when things started going downhill. Had no idea where it was heading. 

In April my old man took a trip to California to have a meeting to get his van altered in order for him to get in and out of his vehicle easier. He has one knee fused and limited mobility, this as going to make his life easier. Then, while he was in his hotel, he fell. 

I'll never know what actually led to him falling or how it happened. I'm pretty sure that he has told me multiple different stories and none of it actually matters. What matters is that he fell, his non-fused knee was damaged and he couldn't move it and it couldn't be touched for months. 

Fast forward a couple of months where constant bed-rest but the lack of any improvement led to deterioration of health and my old-man comes up with a case of pnemonia and his lung collapses. 

He was in a coma for a week to 10 days and that is where shit really took a turn. Nothing has gone right since then. Everything has gone fucking wrong. His strength continues to to deteriorate. His mental abilities have gone downhill and recently diagnosed with dementia. He has been in and out of hospitals and assisted living facilities. 

He has not been home with mom since April 2022. It's been over a year and I still don't know how to handle it. I'm trying my best to have a balance in life, but I don't think it will exist for some time. I work my 40, I play with my kids and help with their soccer coaching and I run and do everything for my mom since she doesn't drive. Groceries, Doctor visits, take her to visit my old-man. 

Every day I'm running somewhere to do something for someone. 

Days off are almost non-existent. I'm slacking on my duties at home because I'm constantly physically and, more importantly, mentally drained. Everything that I have liked to do for myself, my leisure, has all taken a back seat. 

I'm having trouble existing, functioning, keeping it all together and acting like everything is fine. Somedays I feel I'm on the verge of a mental break down. I can't let that show though because I need to be strong and present for everyone. I need to be there to support my mom who, obviously, is not (i snot) taking this easy. I have to be there for my old-man who needs all the support that he can get in his time of need. 

Last week we were told that he is probably on limited time and we should look into hospice care to make his life easier and more comfortable until the end. 

Once again, that fucking broke me. I'm weak. This is why I have turned back to writing. I just need an outlet. I need a place to bang on the keys and just let things out in watever form that takes. 

Writing has worked as therapy for me before. 

Calgon, take me away.

Hard Factor: Pre-Season

April 2023:

Ain't She a Beaut?

So there I was, roaming Walmart with my wife when the text message came through. New Hard-Core draft, being organized by Hard Corn Porn legend Dirty Dave Storms!!! Register now or go limp forever.

I've been waiting for an opportunity like this my entire life. Slop Knob with a celebrity and slowly rise to fame.

I clicked on the link without asking any questions and quickly threw the entry fee into my League Safe account, pulling it out of my child's college savings account.

Before I even went through the motions, I knew that this was going to be a sin I was going to have to atone for in the very near future. But, Fuck it, greatness awaits.

June 2023:

After two months of tough negotiations and trying to find the Scum of the Earth, Dirty Dave succeeds in forming a complete league and the draft begins.

Draft Central

There is lots of wheeling and dealing and tough decisions. I often visited my local homeless shelters and hospice centers to get advice from people who have had a tough life because we all know the harder your life the better your decision-making process.

The homeless guys would give me advice for food. Or Weed. Or Beer. Or Liquor. Or a Handy. They weren't really picky, they just wanted something in return.

As for the hospice, I made sure to hit up the dementia ward so that they wouldn't want anything in return (except some nice old-fashioned companionship) and if they did want something they didn't remember it by the next time I arrived.

Mistakes were made.

The biggest mistake was having a joint bank account with my wife who saw the payment to the league and where the money came from.

Then telling her "Look bitch, I'm an adult and I can do whatever the fuck I want!"

Things I learned in June:

1 - Don't mess with a Mexican woman who has a big family.

2 - She can have the locks changed in the entire house pretty damn quickly

3 - It is possible for someone to freeze you out of a bank account with your name on it.

That's how I ended up living out of my Toyota Corolla with only the money in my wallet and the clothes on my back. But, with the right attitude I set out to who-knows-where not knowing how I was going to survive long enough to win this league, gain huge profits and convince my wife to take me back.

August 2023:

I consider my state of joblessness more of an early retirement or a long, overdue, vacation than I consider it being homeless. It makes me feel better to look at it in a more positive light so I don't accidentally get too depressed and Kurt Ka-Bang myself (As if I had the ability to seduce Courtney Love, marry her and have her off a 2nd husband while making it appear like a suicide.)

The reason why I have decided to start this journal (it's not a diary asshole) and start it now is two-fold. I have a LOT of free time on my hands. Like a-lot a lot.

I was finally able to barter my way into this Chromebook that I am typing on. I thought about using my phone but I don't want to develop carpal tunnel. We're not going to discuss what was actually bartered and how I found out that Rock-Bottom has more than just one layer. I've cried a lot since then.

Now you're caught up.

I'm sitting here at a McDonalds inside of a Walmart in order to get their free Wi-Fi so I can connect to the internet and see if anyone sent me any trades: Spoiler-Alert, they did not.

I'm currently in Las Vegas trying to get enough money to put gas in my car to head down to Texas where my first opponent resides (you know, provided he actually gave the right information and isn't a lying bastard).

I'm winning this league - by hook or by crook. I desperately need the money.

If I don't feel like my team can pull off a clean victory then I'm willing to make things happen, if you know what I mean.

National Toilet Paper Day

 Let us sit back and reflect for a minute on an invention that has truly revolutionized the world.

Other than you fancy screwballs with the anal squirt gun, can you imagine your life without toilet paper? This nifty roll of thank god I don't have to use the cat, the towel or the drapes saves you a lot of time and effort.  I mean, who wants to shower every time they have to poop?  Who wants skid marks in their undies?

Toilet Paper is truly one of the greatest inventions of our life time and that includes things like the Fleshlight

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Somewhere, in a tote probably at my parents house, I still have a roll of Beavis and Butt-Head Buttwipe Toilet paper.  I mean, what child of the 90s who grew up worshipping at the alter of the Great Cornholio didn't have a roll of this laying around for those special occasions?

Is there a greater fear that popping a squat and reaching over only to find out that someone else (or, let's admit it, it was you. You lazy asshat. You did it and didn't replenish after because you expected someone else to do it for you and now you sit her with shit between your cheaks and have to make a walk of shame to clean yourself while hoping nothing falls out during that walk and you have to clean the floor.... and scary to think if it falls out on the carpet) didn't put a new roll on after they finished the old roll.  Is there another one close? Is there someone in the house that you can call to in order to bring you a fresh roll or do you have to figure this out on your own?

Now, Imagine that you are wiping your tushy and you misjudge something and now have some shit on your hands.

Imagine that you just grab some TP and you wipe that crap off of your hands and then leave the bathroom?

Gross right?  I mean, You need soap and water to clean your hands when you didn't touch some fecal matter so you need MORE soap and water when your hands got some poo on them.

Why is it acceptable to to use a dry piece of paper to wipe pool off of your anus when you probably didn't get it all and now you have that smell festering in there.

Let's abandon TP all together and move towards at least using Wet Wipes because you can't clean shit without having some sort of moisture.

Thank you all for coming ot my TP talk.

Hi, It's me, again

I typed out a post.

I was unsatisfied with it.

I rambled and didn't say a fucking thing.

What I want to say is that I have the desire to start typing again.

This space is kind of therapy to me and I'm more drawn to it when I'm not in a great mental space and, quite frankly, I haven't been in a good mental space for quite some time.

That's not to say that there isn't a lot of good going on in my life - there absolutely is.

However, I've been holding the weight of the world on my shoulders for a while now with nobody lean on. No shoulder to cry on.  Just keeping it all bottled up inside and I know that isn't good for me.

I see the results, I feel the effects.

I need to talk.

I need to vent.

I need to get some things off of my chest.

I also have the desire to be a bit more creative and in the back of my head I have a story to tell. It's going to be disjointed and probably not make much sense at times, and it's going to revovle around a Fantasy Football league because I just want to be stupid for shits and giggles.

I don't know where I'm going but I damn sure know where I've been.

As I scream into the void I hope that someone is still listening.

I look back at this space of the internet very fondly and there has to be a reason I pay my yearly fee to keep the site alive right?

So, let me put it to use - Let me get back into the groove of story telling on this super old fashioned medium that has basically gone out of style and been replaced but yet still exists for the hardcore and the old fashioned and those not willing to let go of the past.

It's approaching 2 am, I couldn't sleep.  I have work tomorrow so I'm going to hit post and attempt to get a few hours in.

I'm off on Sunday so when I sit down to do this again late Saturday night I'm going to do it with a couple of beers....

scratch that

a couple of Hard Mountain Dew's in me.

The Local Fish Swims Again (but, you know, not at a poker table.... what is poker anyway?)