Photos

Monday, November 05, 2007

Digging Deep into the Muck of Life

A couple of weeks ago, I had to re-pack some boxes so I could move them from one end of the house to the other. That has been one of my many jobs during the re-model, besides fretting and yelling a lot and subsequently weeping while I try to install tile. Put all the stuff we own into boxes and then shuffle the boxes around. It’s hard work for a couple of reasons: A) I’m a wimpy, wimpy man and the boxes quickly become heavy and I have to have our four year old help me lift them, B) once I start going through a box, I tend to wallow and just gander at all the crap we’ve accumulated.

To wit: I found my yearbook from junior high. Carbon dating places it sometime in the Paleozoic era (the early 80s), so you just know there are going to be some monumentally wonderful photos in it.

Let’s start with our hero (me!).

This is my eighth grade photo:

Yes sir, that little stud muffin is ME in eighth grade. The hair was an experiment in feathering and parting it down the center that went horribly awry. Sadly, it took about five years for the scientists at the lab (i.e. middle and high school) to figure out that my hair doesn’t really want to do that. Back when I had hair, parting it on the side really was the only viable choice, but I was stubborn and just had to try and be my own unique snowflake with my flowing blond locks flashing to the sides, JUST LIKE EVERYONE ELSE.

This is me, doing my thing on the tenor sax. The guy not playing there? With the cool white mouthpiece on his alto? Total a-hole and my nemesis during all of 1979-83. I’m not going to mention his name here for an extended and lingering fear that he might Google his name and land here and then come beat me up, even though we are both in our 40s, so you’d think we’d be over all that, but instead leave that whole drama for a later post. Seriously. Dude was a bully and evil and made me all sad inside. Though my vindication was sweet. Later, children, later; you’ll get that story. And the scribbling on the photo that I refuse to take the time to remove via my mad photoshop skillz comes from the signature of one of the trumpet players, who must have had a huge inferiority complex, because he signed his name ENORMOUS and OMNIPRESENT on everyone’s yearbook on that same page. Which means that my face probably has writing on it in a LOT of people’s yearbooks. But I’m not bitter; no, not me.

Finally, we have my very first real, live girlfriend. Laurie Sousa. This picture does not do her justice, trust me. She got her braces off by time we were “going together” and was, to my eighth grader eyes, hot beyond belief. Plus, she was very smart and laughed at my jokes.

“Going together” is a ridiculous term for what we were and did. We were 13ish, so we didn’t go anywhere. I walked her home until our paths weren’t going in the same direction anymore and we hung out together at lunch. Junior high is a weird place.

This is the story of my very first kiss, which happened to be with Ms. Sousa, may she forever be remembered for something other than this, I’m sure she would hope. In any case, it gives you something of a deep understanding of why my life turned out the way it has.

Programming Note: During this month of NaBloPoMo, I will be mining this junior high yearbook every Sunday. Something to look forward to! Though in all honesty, I could tell stories out of this book EVERY DAY of the year, that’s how traumatic, funny and weird my junior high experience was. And I’ll be mercilessly mocking the hair and clothing from that period of all the people I didn’t like. Golden!

Tuesday, October 30, 2007

Hi! I’m Four and Tonight I Shall Be Your Nemesis

I’m NOT tired!

I don’t wanna have a bath!

I want to have my cell phone [toy] in the tub! I won’t get it wet!

I PROMISE! GIVE ME BACK MY CELL PHONE! I HAVE TO CALL MIMI!

I AM NOT TIRED!

Taken approximately three seconds after getting her out of the tub. And obviously, she’s buck nekkid under that black square where she fell fast asleep on our bed.

Yes, that is the cell phone in her little clutches.

Monday, October 29, 2007

Angelic, For Once

I took this photo a couple of weeks ago when Reha was one one of her “Go Around the Country and Be Gone for Weeks on End” business trips.

She was gone for two days. BUT IT FELT LIKE DECADES.

After a particularly trying evening of my trying to get some stuff done on the house, trying to coax certain members of my family to do their homework, and getting food into bellies, I exploded and knocked everyone unconscious, just to get them to STOP MAKING NOISE AND GIVE ME SOME PEACE FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIVES.

Aren’t the adorable? Don’t worry, I photoshopped out the bruises resulting from the explosion.

Sleeping small people == Double plus good.

Monday, October 15, 2007

In Which I Reveal That We Are Big, Huge Ginourmous Slobs

First off, this photo:

Essentially an un-retouched photo of what was underneath our queen-sized bed.

You may feel free to gag or think less of me and my family. Yes, all that CRAP really was underneath the bed. And yes, both our carpet and the walls of the master bedroom are that dark green color. The previous owners of our house were kind of funky, to say the least. We don’t know what color the walls will end up, but I assure you, they will NEVER be dark green as long as I live there.

Let’s zoom in, shall we?

“But Jon,” you may ask in a decidedly quizzical way, “I thought you guys were perfect in every way! How could this happen? And how did SO MUCH gunk end up under there?”

OK, truth be told and to be totally honest about the whole scandalous nature of how we live, The Deal Family Compound is fairly reeking with the odor of fetid cheese, moldy tomatoes and some lost and decaying pet that we forgot to feed, but we rarely let junk accumulate quite as badly as you see here. Every now and then (Saturday mornings and Sunday afternoons), we break out the sponges and give the old castle a quick wipe down.

“Wait,” you say with your tone indicating both disbelief and further disgust since I am obviously fomenting a huge fib, “We already know that you are slovenly people. You as much as admitted it last time you did this.”

Well.

Um.

Yeah.

But…

The re-model is beating the WILL TO LIVE from my very soul! Take pity on me!

Because when you are fighting for your very soul, who has time to de-clutter under the bed?

But once the re-model is complete and we move back into our bedroom, we’re are getting some of those cool “under the bed” storage units. And we’ll banish the children from ever coming into our bedroom. Seriously, more than half that junk is their stuff that migrated into our bedroom when we mistakenly let them come in. What always surprises me is how many shoes end up under there. No wonder no one can find a matching pair of shoes every morning around here.

And Reha will somehow get me to tame my horrible magazine addiction.

I think I might start a flickr pool of “what’s underneath your bed?” Simple rules for the pool: You move your bed, and take a snapshot and post for all the world to gawk at, point at you and make fun of you for being slobs.

Monday, October 08, 2007

The Gods Have Smiled Down on Us

What’s that I see off in the distance?

It’s hazy.

Non-distinct.

I can barely make it out.

I think it might be a finish date for the re-model, looming up on the horizon. Still a long way away, but I think we can officially celebrate our “halfway done” point. Except for some truly minor things, the basement is now suitable for human habitation.

Observe:

That’s Ellis, calling someone on her toy phone, “Yes. Hello. Yeah, it’s true, my Daddy is a moron and it’s taken him 122 years to get the basement re-done. I know! Can you BELIEVE it? It’s finally done!”



Ignore those ragamuffins on the stairs, they are merely window dressing. Instead focus on how lovely that paint job looks. Oh, and the rest of the house looks like the stairs look in this shot. Cluttered and unfinished and with nails sticking out everywhere.

 

Novus

Proximus

 

Favorite Entries

If you are new around here, the following entries have been reasonably well received. You might want to peruse these.

• Help Wanted
• From the Office of Mis-directed Email
• A Word from the Small Person in the House
• RNT Product Review: Chocolate Mix Skittles Left Me Sterile!
• Jon’s Report Card circa… A Long Time Ago
• Dear Gratuitously Naked Conversationalist at the Gym:
• A Peek Inside the Writer’s Guild and Producers’ Negotiations
• We Regret the Error
• Letters from a Homeowner to His General Contractor
• What I Did There
• Hermaphrodite Administrative Assistants and Receptionists Need Not Apply
• Giving Me an IM Account Was Obviously a Huge Mistake
• Official Ransom Note Typography Vista vs. Mac OS X Shootout
• I Need a Real Hobby
• Beat Down
• Big Fat Lies
• True Love
• Now MY Ovaries Hurt
• Don’t Get Her Started
• Disturbing Trend
• Had to do it
• Mooshy stuff
• Ransom Note Typography End User License Agreement “EULA”
• Diva-licious!
• Just so we’re clear
• PETA may have a point

Holy Crap! Look at all this STUFF down here. It's awesome!

Really, I'm glad you made it down here. Almost no one ever comes down here. I'm like in a freaking dungeon down here. I get lonely. But not you. YOU made it all the way to the end of the page. For this I think I've a little crush on you. I don't know, is "love" to strong a word to use in this situation? Well, if it's not "love," then it's very strong "like." I'm totally in like with you for coming down here. You are awesome. Please love me back! I know, I know, I shouldn't be all needy, it's not attractive at all, but you don't know how it is to be stuck down here. Who scrolls all the way to the end of a page anymore these days? Anyway, thanks for shedding some light down here in the depths. I appreciate it. Shoot me an email and I'll send you a dollar, OK?

©2005-2008 Jon B. Deal All Rights Reserved. I'm not kidding around here, I know people who know other people who would be willing to beat you up or similarly infringe on your rights, should you happen to infringe on my rights.