A Boring (Maybe) Saturday Night.

Here it is, Saturday night, and I'm stuck at work. It makes for very boring Saturday nights.

Since I haven't said to much about what I do for a living, I thought I would go into some more detail tonight.

My resume states that I am a "manufacturing and production professional". Currently, and I hope for some time, I work for a contract sterilizer of medical and pharmaceutical equipment. I supervise 2 shifts of 5 workers on each shift. As luck would have it, I supervise the 2 weekend crews.

This means I have to be here for a good portion of the weekend, plus I have to come in for meetings, and the like during the week.

I have managed or supervised for several different companies. I hope to someday get a break and make my way up the food chain. The company I currently work for may be my best chance yet.

The only drawback to my job is, well, A lot of the time I feel like a baby sitter. I have a few people who are excellent, but a few that are just not......Well,they're not.

Flashback time.

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This is the story of Malibu and Beanie. I call them that because their personalities. Gangsta gets his name because he is exactly like the guy in "Malibou's Most Wanted". A lilly white boy that wanted to be a rapper. Beanie gets his name from drinking 4 pots of coffee a day.

The two could not work together very well, and on a small crew, it was impossible to keep them separated. Things came to a head one day when it was really hot, and really humid, and really miserable to work in.

There was about 1 hour left in the 12 hour shift, when I heard some yelling coming from the unload side of the line. I looked up to see Beanie shoving his face into Malibou's yelling, "DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO, YOU SON-OF-A-BITCH!!!!!" I was over there in 2 seconds, actually quite a feat for my short legs.

I got in between them, told them to back off, and sent them to different positions. Malibu went to the other side, I told Beanie to keep his mouth shut for the time being. As I look to the other side, there was Malibu with his shirt ripped off. Quite a feat for a skinny white boy. He has his hand raised above his head, yelling, "WHASSUP!! WHASSUP!!!". I shook my head, went over and told him to go home.

He goes to the time clock, and stands there. I look at Big Al. (Big Al earned his name honestly, 6'7" and a biscuit shy of 400lbs) I asked him to go see what was going on while I talked to Beanie.

After I got done with Beanie, which all he kept saying was, "yes, Sir. Yes, Sir", I asked Big Al what that was going on with Malibu. He said Malibu knew if he missed any more time he would be let go, so he was waiting till the end of the shift to clock out. Big Al had told him to go on home. You don't argue with Big Al.

The next day I straightened it out, gave official reprimand to both, and called it case closed. God, do heat and testosterone not go together.

unfortunately, the next weekend, Malibu was involved in a high speed chase with police and lost. His car got wrapped around a tree at 90 mph. Such a waste.

That is what I mean about baby sitting.

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On a bright note, BH called, and she said she can't wait till I get home. (wink, wink)

Maybe it won't be so boring after all.

Later,

Deej

Not As Bad As It Sounded.

Okay, Maybe I went a little over the top in my last post. I almost made it sound like women would flee from me as I walked down the street. That was not necessarily the case. Actually, most of the women I have known have told me that I was a good looking guy. I think I am about average. One lady, actually one from the last post, described me as "in-offensively handsome". I have no idea what that means.

I will describe myself in a little more detail, so you get the picture.

I am about 5'9", brown hair and eyes. I have been told many times that I have eyes as dark brown as they have seen. My wife jokingly says they are "shit brown".

I am fairly dark complexion, and when I used to get enough sun, would tan to a dark brown.

I have been told I look a little like John Ritter in the face, but I do not see it. Everyone says they know someone who looks almost like me, but I have yet to meet anyone I would say that about.

Right now, I am a little overweight and could stand to lose about 30 lbs. Damn metabolism changed when I was 27. Before that, I never weighed more than 150lbs. Now I weigh 215. I am going take steps to get somewhere in the middle. (Or so I keep telling myself) My weight doesn't show to bably because I am pretty broad through the shoulders. BH says my belly is perfect for laying her head on.

I am somewhat odd in that I have long arms, and short legs. I never realized that I was really that out of proportion until I got fitted for my wedding tux. The guy at the rental, (he was the catty gay type) told me he had never seen someone with that long of a body and arms, and that short of legs. He told me that for as long as my arms and body were, I should wear a 34 in-seam, I wear a 29.

If you go off that theory, if my body matched my legs, I would be 5'4", and if my legs matched my body, I would be 6'2".

Lets put this in a perspective of clothes.

When I buy a suit, I get a 48 regular in the jacket, and need a 38 waist, 29 length pant. My dress shirts are 17 1/2 neck, 34-35 length. If it is casual clothes, the pant are the same, but I have to wear an extra large-tall shirt.

After typing this, I realize that I have almost described Barney Rubble. Ouch.

Don't get me wrong, I do not think I am grotesque. I do not think I am ugly.

Something must be right for BH to have fallen for me. It was either my "in-offensively handsome" looks or my monkey impression. I'm not sure which.

Later,

Deej

Do You Remember Me?

While I normally write straight from the heart, I am going to do something a little different this time. I am going to try to be a little creative. I have been wanting to do a post like this for a while. It is about girlfriends and crushes prior to BH.

To set up the piece, I was never the most popular guy around. Girls liked me, but not THAT way. In the following piece I will describe what it was like to be me trying to get the attention of ladies, and how more often than not, it just didn't work.

I will title the piece:


DO YOU REMEMBER ME?

Do you remember me?
I sat behind you in Freshman English.
I was the skinny guy who hoped you would smile at him as you sat down.
Everyday, I tried to work up the courage to talk to you.
Everyday, I failed.

Do you remember me?
I asked you to junior prom two weeks ahead of time.
You said you would go if So-and-So didn't ask you.
With four days to go you said you would go with me.
Two days later So-and-So asked you.
I went to prom alone.

Do you remember me?
I'm the guy you dated for a month in our senior year.
You went out with me to meet my best friend.
You dumped me for him the week of Homecoming.
Another dance I went to alone.

Do you remember me?
We started dating after I graduated from high school.
You said you wanted to marry me.
While I was gone for basics training in the Air Force, you cheated on me, many times.
I came home to find my friends laughing at me.

Do you remember me?
I thought the world of you.
You said I was your friend.
You would call me to complain about your bad-boy boyfriend.
I listened patiently.
Finally you stopped calling.

Do you remember me?
We went to that new club together.
You ditched me for a guy you met there.
I was left alone at the bar.
When he ditched you downtown, you called me to come pick you up.
Like a fool, I went.

Do you remember me?
I'm the guy you dated after your bad-boy broke up with you.
I didn't know I was a rebound boyfriend.
I thought you liked me.
When the next guy came along, I was history.

Do you remember me?
I was the guy who thought the world of you.
I was proud to have you on my arm.
I ached when I was away from you.
You traded up, the first chance you got.

Do you remember me?
I was the guy you said was perfect.
I was going to make some girl very happy, just not you.
I was not your type.
What type am I?

Do you remember me?
I am the nice guy/friend/confidant.
I am the guy you liked, but not that way.
I am the guy you said you wished you could meet some day.
But it was not me you wanted.

Do you remember me?

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It may never rank as one of the all time great literary works, but there you go.

I was not the guy that the popular girls wanted to be with. I was the guy you would set up with your friend, because you thought I was safe.

There is a lot of pain in the verses above. A lot of heartache that I went through.

I do maintain, however, that I would not change a thing. Going through all of that is what brought me to where I am today. I have a wife that I love very much, and a daughter that I cherish. I would not trade them for any, or all, of the ladies I new in the past.

Later,

Deej

I Figured It Out

I finally figured out how to link other sites on mine. (I know, I know, I have way to much time on my hands.) If you do not want me linking your site, let me know, and I will remove it.

I am working on a post about the girls I dated pre-BH. It will probably be a short one.

Later,

Deej

Who To Tell?

I was asked an interesting question by C., the writer of "DiaryofC" yesterday. The question was whether or not BH knows about my blog. Truth be told, I was wondering when this question would be asked.

The answer is, no, she does not know about it. No one that I know personally knows about it. I did this for one good reason. I want to be able to come in here and jot down my personal thoughts with recrimination. I can complain about people, and they never know. It Is this dishonest? Maybe. But to me it is an outlet to get stuff off my chest, privately, without having to pay $200 an hour for therapy.

I didn't call it "Deej's Mountain" for nothing. I used to go camping by myself for a week at a time just to sit and think about stuff. That is what I do now, only in cyber space.

If you are wonder how I get away with it. I blog at work. My job allows me some free time to do things like this. As long as I get my assignments done, the line is running smoothly, and the employees are being safe, my boss leaves me alone. Occasionally, when I am home alone, I will check a blog, but I do not go into my own.

I do not even think my wife knows that the blog world exists. She isn't one to just peruse the internet for fun.

I like the anonymity of it, and it also affords me a creative outlet. I once tried writing a novel, and got bogged down in the process. I still have the parts that I finished somewhere, but I doubt I will ever complete the whole thing. This way I get to be a little creative, but I don't feel the dis-satisfaction of not finishing.

Maybe someday, I will tell her, but not now. For the time being, I will keep my mountain a place for personal reflection, and all the other stuff I do here.

Later,

Deej

I Am Such A Sap.

Today was a fun day. I slept in a little, leisurely read the paper while I had a cup of coffee, and BH and La Nina gave me my Father's Day gifts. It was nice.

Only down side is I had to cut the lawn, and since we have a cottonwood tree that is shedding in the back yard, I had to bag it. Being out of bags, I had to run to Home Depot to get some. Aww, Shucks!! I am forced to go to my favorite store. I took La Nina with me.

Before I go any further, I will say that, in many ways, I am a "manly man". As in the quote, "I am a manly man who does manly things in a manly way because it's the manly thing to do". I played sports in high school, I fish, I play golf, the backyard grill is mine, all mine. The perfect gift for me is something to do with golf, fishing, or a power tool. Manly man. That's me.

As I am driving home from Home Depot when a song called "Butterfly Kisses" comes on the radio. It is a song about a father's feeling toward his daughter. One of the chorus lines goes something like, "With all that I have done wrong, I must have done something right, to deserve her love in the morning, and butterfly kisses at night."

This is where I had to turn in my "Manly Man's" membership card. While the song was playing, I started crying right there in the car. Tears streaming down my face, La Nina, who turns 3 tomorrow, by the way, asking me, "What wrong, Daddy?".

So what happens? We get home, and while BH ran out for an errand, La Nina wanted to watch Disney's Tarzan. When the movie got to part where they play "You'll be in my Heart", I broke down again.

What is wrong with me? I normally don't get affected like that. Maybe it was because it was Father's Day. But the past Father's Days haven't done that to me.

Maybe I'm just getting old and sentimental.

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As a side note, The Mother-in-Law got here early this afternoon. She brought up the fixings for her version of shrimp scampi. I hate to tell her that it is really shrimp alfredo. The only thing she does is add shrimp, minced garlic, and butter to store bought alfredo, and toss it with fettecini.

It was good, and I appreciate whenever anyone else cooks for me as I do almost all of the cooking in my house.

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Tomorrow, LA Nina turns 3, and she is going on 13. They grow up way to fast.

BH's dad and step mom told us when they were here last week that we should get her tested. They are both retired elementary school educators who were among the best in Colorado. They think, and so do I, (although I am biased) that she is very advanced for her age.

She does puzzles that are for 5 year olds now. She gets bored with them very easily. Her language skills are also better than most kids her age. When she was 2, BH and I bought her some flash cards. There were 50 in the pack. When I went through them with her, she could name all but 3 the first time through. After I told her what the other 3 were, she was able to get them every time after that.

We are going to contact the local school system and see if they have anyway of testing her at this age.

That's all I need is a child that is smarter than I am.

That's all for now.

Later,

Deej