I just couldn’t resist …

When I saw that Andrea is LaFawnduh, I couldn’t resist and had to find out who I am, besides, what the heck would you do in a situation like that?

I am Kip Dynamite and I love technology.

Which Napoleon Dynamite character are you?
quizilicious fantasticness courtesy of Quizilla

The Sunday Short Volume 1 Issue 5

As my little sister graduated this week I thought I would share a bit about her.
When we were having Wendy’s late Thursday evening (Yes I did stay up after I blogged, but what are you gonna do about it?) we talked about some of the times we’ve had together, and I shared that I thought some of them would make good stories for my blog. She agreed and chose for herself the alias of Josie Geller. I’ll let you figure out for yourself what she means by that, and if I use one myself. On to the telling.
Josie and I are four and a half years apart, we have no other siblings, and I can honestly say that I would have it no other way. Others have often commented on the relationship we have, they cannot believe sometimes that we get along so well. From brother-sister dates to nights spent talking long after our parents have gone to bed to quoting favorite movies to the annoyance of others, our friendship is strong.
Earlier this week she needed some special event clothes for her graduation ceremony. I have never really understood why women generally purchase new clothing for each special occasion they participate in, but I think that I might try it too if I knew I could get away with it. Regardless, we went shopping at Flatirons Mall for some things. After stops at Old Navy (where I scored a 97cent shirt), Banana Republic, several stores I declined to join her in, and The Gap, all with no luck, I suggested that we try one of the more traditional department stores.
- “After The Gap, I get one.”
- “One what?”
- “One store, we’ll try Foleys.”
- “I just don’t like those places.”
- “That’s fine, but we haven’t had any luck so far.”
- “Ok”
The Gap yielded two potentials, but after fitting neither was acceptable. Off to Foleys we went, I turned left into the Misses department and after a course correction on her part, we headed for the clearance rack. Somehow I’ve learned that there are good things to be had on the clearance rack. After some unsureness about size (as Juniors go S, M, L and Misses goes 4, 5, 6 etc.) we chose a few potentials and one blouse that was half off hit the jackpot. As we left the mall Josie and I had a good laugh about the ‘lessons’ learned on the evening.
- “So.” I asked. “What did we learn tonight?”
- “That I’m a six.” *Laughter*
- “And?”
- “Umm?”
- “Not to be afraid of ‘traditional’ stores?”
- “Yeah.” *Laughter*
I think that there is one image that will stand out in my mind from that evening, a footnote if you will: me, standing in front of the womens fitting room with several blouses folded over my arm. It’s an image that says something.
In the interest of fairness I must say that we do have our moments of disagreement. I remember one time in particular when we had been arguing about something (if I could remember what I’d go take my SAT’s again) and Josie fled up the stairs to her room. I followed close behind and was soon pounding on her door screaming something about how Dad always said not to use doors as barriers (ours is an open household).
After several shouted exchanges through the door I was at the end of my wits and decided to take drastic action. I reached for the clothes hamper in the hallway and, gathering it in both arms, I set the dirt-laden clothes and their container in motion down the stairs.
THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!
As if the the thudding of a heavy object down the stairs were not enough to frighten her, I let out a blood-curdling scream (that I would be hard pressed to duplicate now). It was less than a second before she hurled her door open to see how badly I’d been injured. The argument immediately removed from her mind, concern for my wellbeing the sole occupying thought of the moment. Upon seeing me standing at the top of the stairs she proceeded to bruise my shoulder with her fist. I don’t remember if she laughed that day, I know that I did, and looking back we both laugh about it. It’s folklore now, that little footnote in the book of our lives, The Hamper Incident. It’s a footnote that says something.
Simply this.
I love my sister.

Congraduations!

I just got back from my leedle seesters commencement ceremony! I love her so much and am so proud of her! The last time I was in that building was at my own ceremony. WHOAH! Deja Vu City USA!

I have to work at O-dark-early in the morning so I’m gonna go to bed early tonight, no late night blogging for me. Peace Out!

Various

Ten Tabs in Firefox
Ten Poems by Various Authors
Ten Times to realize that I am a willing slave to words and their power.
One Poem to rule them all.
One Poem to find them.
One Poem to bring them all and in the darkness bind them.

words…

————————————————–
Dichotomy
– Gabe Thexton
————————-

These are the words that I must write,
Before I go to bed tonight,
To clear the thoughts within my mind,
‘Fore footholds in my dreams they find,
‘Fore I awake in cold hard sweat,
A furrowed brow and much upset,
When thoughts of day drift into night,
Their power grows and stifles light,
Thoughts & Fears & Hopes & Cares
Left alone become Nightmares.

–

There is a pleasant place to lie,
With view of bird and butterfly,
This meadow soft and ever green,
Can’t ere exist but in a dream,
It is the land I choose to wander,
While I lie so deep in slumber,
Beauty here and Peace abound,
Aslan’s roar the ‘harshest’ sound,
Thoughts & Fears & Hopes & Cares,
Here laid rest in Lions’ stares.

And now on a lighter note … FOOTBALL!

According to Erik and the Denver Broncos, the man who holds the following records…

NFL records

• Total Touchdowns: 203
• Receiving Touchdowns: 192
• Receptions: 1,456
• Receiving Yards: 21,598
• Total Yards: 22,146
• 1,000 Yard Receiving Seasons: 14
• Consecutive games with an NFL reception: 257
• Receiving yards in a season: 1,848 in 1995
• Receiving TDs in a season: 22 in just 12 games played in 1987
• Games with 100+ receiving yards: 73
• Games with multiple TDs: 41
• Consecutive NFL games with a touchdown: 13
• Consecutive 50-Catch Seasons: 12

Postseason Records

• Receptions: 151
• Receiving yards: 2,283
• Receiving touchdowns: 22
• 100+ receiving yard games: 8
• Consecutive games with a reception: 28
• Consecutive 100+ yard games: 3
• Total touchdowns: 22
• Total postseason yards: 2,288

Super Bowl Records

• Career Receptions: 33
• Career Receiving yards: 589
• Career Receiving TDs: 8
• Career Touchdowns: 8
• Most receptions in a game: 11 (SB XXIII)
• Most receiving yards in a game: 215 (SB XXIII)
• Most receiving touchdowns in a game: 3 (SB XXIV and SB XXIX)
• Most touchdowns in a game: 3 (SB XXIV and SB XXIX)
• Most points: 48
• Most points in a game: 18
• Fastest TD scored in a game: 1 minute, 24 seconds (SB XXIV)

Pro Bowl Records

• Career receptions: 37
• Career receiving yards: 504

…has agreed to a 1 year deal with the Broncos. This makes me happy.

By the way, his name is Jerry Rice.

At a loss…

RLP says:
“It’s funny, when your faith finally caves, it goes all at once.
You realize you were just a shell held together with hackneyed rituals and desperate hopes.
You are not strong.
You do not have answers.”

There could not be a more accurate statement about how I’ve felt lately.
I cannot talk to G-d.
I’ve mumbled, faked it, nodded to avoid it, and just plain ignored it.

words…

Lord I cannot speak to You,
The words I mumble are not true,
My heart is far away from You,
This distance makes me feel a fool,

I want so badly to be held,
For my heart and mind to meld,
With Yours so I may be fulfilled,
To have my raging conscience stilled,

But ‘front of me I’ve built a wall,
I can’t see over it’s so tall,
To emphasize that I’m so small,
And don’t deserve Your Grace at all,

Lord I want to speak to You,
With words that flow because they’re true,
To find myself come back to You,
In your arms though still a fool.

The Sunday Short Vol. 1 Issue 4

This is the beginning of a story currently titled ‘Main Street Books‘. I think this one wants to be my first novel.

————————————————–
Main Street Books – Part 1
– Gabe Thexton
————————-

- Money never was that important to me, I just try to get along. I’ve got an old Dodge truck that gets me from place to place and I live wherever work takes me. Last fall I saw a classified ad that said “Wanted, A keeper and seller of books for a small store in a small town. Ad # 19072” I applied and got the job.
- I walk to work every day, when the weather’s nice that is. Colorado has more days of sun per year than any other state. Aspen Springs is a nice town, just far enough from Denver to be quiet but close enough for a weekend visit. I’m probably the poorest guy in town. Everybody else here has come into money, either of their own hands or of a relative’s will. No matter though where the money came from, they all grew up here, and that’s what matters. There’re seven mansions on East Road, mine’s on the end, well it’s not really my mansion, I live in the guest house. The mansion belongs to Joe Solomon, he and Mrs. Solomon own Main Street Books, that’s where I work.
- The second mansion, the one right next door, is empty most of the year. Ted Jackson owns it. He used to live in Golden, then, five years ago he invented some kind of Internet Protocol and moved to Silicon Valley, but not before sinking a chunk of his fortune into this place. When he does show up there’s always a big party for two or three days, then it fades. The money never seemed to get to him, post-hangover he’ll be out back chopping wood for the fire or shooting pinecones at the chipmunks with his slingshot. His girlfriend usually sits in the big bay window in the loft, drinking hot chocolate, reading magazines and pointing her telescope at the city. Nordica Roberts, what a name, and she’s got the body to back it up too. She and Ted never fight, but she does start arguments.
- Mr. and Mrs. Walton live in the next house, well, Mr. Walton does. Mrs. Solomon tells me that Nordica’s the reason Mrs. Walton is staying at her sisters’ house in Boulder. Apparently her husband Leo took to looking through the binoculars during Nordicas’ daily trip to the Jacuzzi. Poor Leo never leaves the house now. The Schwans truck comes once a week and Leo gets fed. I don’t know what he does when the snow gets too deep for Schwany to get through. Although I have a sneaking suspicion that he gets some hot meals from Mrs. Huff. I was passing by on my way home the other day, and their daughter Charity waved at me with an oven mitt on and I could see her footprints spanning the yard back toward Leo’s.
- Charity’s fourteen now, and she’s going to make a good man proud some day. Clyde and Marian have done what I would consider a fine job raising her. Marian spends her days running to and fro planning all the events for Aspen Springs Baptist Church, and she always puts together a fantastic Christmas production. I asked Clyde how he made his money and he said horse ranching. I asked if there was much money in that and he said that there is when you sell out to Elmer’s Glue. I’m really not sure if I believe him, but that’s the fourth house.
- The fifth house down is the crazy house. I honestly have no clue who owns it. No-one who stays there lives there. People come and go like ants from an anthill. At times it’s empty for a day or two. At other times there’s an old school bus in the drive and at least twenty people there. I’ve seen suits and ties on forty year old men and I’ve seen spikes and mo-hawks on twelve year old girls. In the summer they bring Volleyball nets, in the winter they bring Skis. They seem to have a lot of fun, but I’ve never seen a keg of beer. They play lots of music; some on CD’s, some on their own instruments. It’s an organized chaos, that house.
- The sixth house on the block is home to the owner of Pat-n-Patty’s Groceries, Patrick McCormick, and to his wife Patricia who happens to be the mayor of Aspen Springs. It’s also the one house you can’t miss. No matter the season they’ve always got something in the yard or on the roof, statues, lights, gadgets and contraptions. Patty’s got flags for every holiday, even Groundhog Day. Theirs’ is never a boring house to pass. I sometimes wonder how, with all the business responsibilities they have, they still manage to decorate. Patty’s a Republican; she won her third term by nearly ninety percent of the vote. I spent one summer working for Pat at the grocery; we cleaned out all of the storage sheds in the back of the store. I used to tease him by saying that he loved himself so much he married for his name. He got a kick out of it, and now when I walk by and he’s outside he’ll look at me with a big smile and say “Have you met my wife? She’s a Pat too.”
- Mansion number seven is on the corner of East Road and Main Street, and it serves as a billboard, showcase, and office for Arlene Smith Realty and Gift Shop. Arlene would try to sell your own backpack to you if she could get a cut of the profit. Her gift shop is a combination of a nice resort gift shop and the ‘As Seen on TV Store’. The back yard has been converted into a parking lot and I cut through it on my way to work. Often I am attacked midway across the lot by the flying ball of grey fur she calls Falcor; he’s a Shih-Tzu with a guard dog complex. It’s because of Falcor that I carry carrots in my pocket every day, as they are the only treat to appease his Shih-Tzu rage. He also loves the snow, after big storms he can be seen jackrabbiting around the parking lot like a pogo stick.
- After I clear the parking lot there’s a stretch where I have to walk along the road. There’s a very small shoulder and I’m nearly in the way of the traffic. The locals honk and wave as they drive around me, others honk and give the finger. The Aspen Springs Marketplace is home to most of the business in town. The parking lot is half paved and half dirt, and sits about ten feet below the road. Many times I’ve helped push a two wheel drive car up the steep, icy driveway in the winter. Pat-n-Patty’s is on the east end, followed by Josie’s Deli and Main Street Books. I’m there first on most days, I get there about seven thirty and we open at eight. Today, however, Mr. Solomon was there when I arrived. He looked up and pointed his index finger at me like a gun.
-“Bang, Bang-Bang, Bang!” I fell backwards, leaning on the door and holding my hand to my chest. I gasped for air, slid down the glass and landed with a whump on the floor.
-“Jeez Joe, don’t you think one bullet would have done the trick?”
-“The first two missed and the third just got your arm.”
-“I wouldn’t go admitting my poor aim to too many people if I were you.”
I was still on the floor and had noticed some books on the bottom shelf that were out of place. I pulled them out, “The Ranchers Guide to Real Estate”, “The Texas Realtor’s Handbook”.
-“What’s Arlene want with Texas?” I asked, thinking it obvious who had been shuffling around in the real estate section.
-“Actually it was Mr. Huff, told me he and the Mrs. were getting’ itchy for ranch life again.”
-“Hmm, I wonder what Charity will think of that.”
-“Now, now, don’t go gossiping all around just because someone done bought a book. It’s that kind of thing what gets scandals going.”
-“Come on Joe, you know me, I’d never do a thing like that.”
-“One can’t be too careful these days. Anyway, the new atlases are in those boxes, mark down last years, oh, say, forty percent off. These here are special orders, the list is on top, just make the calls…”
-“And leave messages if no answer. I got it.”
-“I keep forgetting you know all this, I should give you a raise.” He winked as if to say there was a snowball’s chance in H-E-double-hockey-sticks that I’d actually get one. “Ok, well, the accounting’s all done. Margaret and I will be in Denver for the day, got a buyers convention to attend, call the cell if you need anything.” He reached for his coat and made for the door.
-“Joe.” I said. He stopped and turned. “Yeah?” I pointed my index finger at him. “Bang, Bang, Bang-Bang!” He stumbled to his car laughing.

We’ve Finally Reached The Middle

On Wednesday evening thousands gathered at the local movie theater megaplex. Young and old milled around the plaza for hours. Some wandered, others queued, deulled, snacked or footbagged. Many were dressed in strange, robe-like attire, carried strange light-swords from another world, and spoke with nervous anticipation about the momentus event that would occur at exactly 12:01am on Thursday. The apex, the climax, the awe and wonder at having finally reached, the middle. Parts IV, V, and VI twenty years ago, parts I and II over the last few, but now we waited as the hours ticked past for part III.
StarWars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith
Go see it, it’s better than I or II and Yoda and R2 are out in full galactic glory.
images…

From L-R GuyInRedShirt, Stormtrooper THX1138, Darth Maul, GuyWithHisArmAroundLordVader, Lord Vader Himself, RebelSoldierFromEndor
———-

Lord Vader, Myself, and Stormtrooper THX1138
———-

The theater at about 10pm (never been in a theater longer in my whole life)
———-

Luke v. Vader while Leia films for posterity.
———-

Lights Out! Where’s your lightsaber?

We’ve Finally Reached The Middle

On Wednesday evening thousands gathered at the local movie theater megaplex. Young and old milled around the plaza for hours. Some wandered, others queued, deulled, snacked or footbagged. Many were dressed in strange, robe-like attire, carried strange light-swords from another world, and spoke with nervous anticipation about the momentus event that would occur at exactly 12:01am on Thursday. The apex, the climax, the awe and wonder at having finally reached, the middle. Parts IV, V, and VI twenty years ago, parts I and II over the last few, but now we waited as the hours ticked past for part III.
StarWars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith
Go see it, it’s better than I or II and Yoda and R2 are out in full galactic glory.
images…

From L-R GuyInRedShirt, Stormtrooper THX1138, Darth Maul, GuyWithHisArmAroundLordVader, Lord Vader Himself, RebelSoldierFromEndor
———-

Lord Vader, Myself, and Stormtrooper THX1138
———-

The theater at about 10pm (never been in a theater longer in my whole life)
———-

Luke v. Vader while Leia films for posterity.
———-

Lights Out! Where’s your lightsaber?

The Sunday Short Vol. 1 Issue 3 – Delayed

This story is true, but I changed the names. I really feel like it needs some work, but I didn’t want to keep all of you faithful Sunday Short readers waiting any longer.

————————————————–
Homecoming Heartbreak
– Gabe Thexton
————————-

Fall 1997, 5th Period English Lit. I was a sophomore in high school, I’d never had a real girlfriend, never been to a dance, and hadn’t really attempted either. My English teacher didn’t care, he didn’t even know. But Marcus knew. And from the desk behind me he constantly pushed me to change it.

I guess it was my fault, I had given in and admitted to him that I had a crush on Lois (who just happened to sit in the desk in front of mine). Marcus was relentless, and with the Homecoming Dance fast approaching the pressure mounted. I was also under percieved pressure from the jocks, all the other guys on the football team were going to have dates to the dance, I had to match. I endured Marcuss’ goading and he endured my resistance, and even the bloody nose I accidentally inflicted on him one time while turning around to tell him to shut up. But his coersion and my desperation finally overcame my fears and I asked Lois to the dance. She agreed to go, as friends, and I was ok with that. Shoot, I was more than ok with it, I was ecstatic. I had a date to Homecoming!

One evening after football practice, while I was in the shower, she called to make arrangements. When my dad yelled through the bathroom door that a girl had called my heart lept into my throat. I am such a sucker. I called back and we talked about the plans. I suggested we go to dinner with some of our mutual friends, but she said that her swim team had a meet that night so she would just meet me there. I was ok with that too.

Friday night I got all dressed up and Mom took me to the school. I was early, I wanted to be, when I get nervous about something I tend to be early, sometimes by hours. I traded my ticket for a purple hand stamp and proceeded to wait. As my friends started to show up I began to realize that something was wrong. All the other girls on the swim-team had gone to dinner with their dates. I shook it off at first but began to worry as it got later and later and she still hadn’t showed up. Even my counselor/chaperone noticed and asked if I thought I was getting stood up. I laughed nervously and denied it. Finally Lois showed up and I don’t think I could have been much more relieved.

We chatted with some friends and headed for the dance floor. The DJ started a slow song and I took her hand and brought her close, but not too close (friends remember?). We moved awkwardly for ten or fifteen seconds before she spoke.
- “I can’t slow dance with you.”
- “Umm, ok, is something wrong?”
- “Well, it’s just that I can’t slow dance with someone I’m not dating.”

I was stunned, going to the dance with me is great, but not telling me about a boyfriend, that is not cool. I’m the kind of guy that would pass on Angelina Jolie if I had even the slightest inclination that Brad Pitt was still in the picture (and not just because he could have me killed).
- “Umm, umm.”
- “You see, my boyfriend, he, well, he couldn’t make it tonight, that’s the only reason I said I’d go with you.

I couldn’t believe it. I felt like I’d been smashed with a sledgehammer. Several of my friends offered to share their dates but I couldn’t handle the idea of a pity-dance. I called home and Mom came and got me. I bawled the whole way home. Honestly I know I had my hopes up too high, but given the circumstances I was shattered.

Monday morning I looked forward to ignoring the whole thing and moving on. But it wasn’t over. Loiss’ friend Tina came up to me and apologized for the whole thing. I said that if I had known Lois had a boyfriend I wouldn’t have even bothered asking. Tina shook her head.
- “Gabe, Lois doesn’t even have a boyfriend.”
- “HUH?!”
- “Yeah, I know, I’m so sorry.”
Now I was mad. I steamed for a while but it soon faded from my consciousness and I let it go.

The end of the school-year brought some closure to the ordeal. I was making an effort to have every one of my classmates sign my yearbook and approached Lois about it, she agreed and scrawled a short note. Later, when I took the time to read through the signatures, I was stunned to read the following:

-Gabe, I’m sorry for being such a b–ch, Lois.-

Four years later I was sitting under the bright lights of an orthodontists chair. The assistant who was changing my rubberbands asked what color I would like.
- “Silver.”
- “Ok, so did you go to D’Evelyn High School?” I realized that she had read the text plastered across my t-shirt that proudly proclaimed “D’Evelyn Jaguars, Colorado State Football Playoffs 1997” (even though we were smeared 49-13 in the first round).
- “Yeah, I went there.”
- “My daughter went there, but you probably don’t know her.”
- “Well it is a small school, I think I knew almost everybody.”
- “True. My daughers’ name is Lois” A strange smile spread across my face, I couldn’t help it.
- “Yeah, I do. Ask her about Homecoming her sophomore year.”
- “OH MY G-D, THAT WAS YOU!? Oh my G-d, I’m so sorry, she’s changed, she’s not like that anymore, I promise. Oh, I’m so sorry.”

It was all I could do not to laugh.

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