Concerts. CONCERTS.

In a conversation about concerts- music concerts, like Merle Haggard and such.

Disabled Guy: "I want to see that show with the guy with the animals."

Me: "What show? What animals?"

DG: "That guy who does those things with the tigers and shit."

Me: "What guy does a concert with animals?"

DG: "You know, that famous guy. John. John something."

Me: "Are you talking about the zoo guy who used to go on Johnny Carson?"

DG: "I dunno. Maybe. He does this thing with animals."

Me: "What *thing*? I have no idea what you're talking about."

DG: "He does things with animals and shit."

I am utterly confused as to what famous guy does a concert with animals. So, I said: "Jack Hanna?"

DG: "Yes! That's him."

Me: "JACK, not John. And that's not a concert."

DG: "Well, no, but I knew his name started with a C."

Me: "J. His name starts with a J."

DG: "Whatever, he has a name, doesn't he?"

Classic Cars and SCIENCE!

Not that they're related. They're absolutely not related. Those are just the two topics we were texting about today. The "SCIENCE" part is actually bragging about one of our kids.

 The Disabled Guy's favorite classic car is a 1957 Chevrolet Bel Air. Barring that, he'd settle for a 1957 Chevrolet sedan. Or station wagon... basically, the '57 Chevy is his favorite classic car. He holds a few Chevelles and a Nova or two as favorites as well. But that '57 is it.

Today, I saw an old Mustang. I'm not sure how old, because I'm not much of a car guy (or a "guy" at all), but I thought it was cool because you just don't see this style of Mustang much anymore. And what followed was about to turn into the same tired and stupid discussion we have whenever I think a classic car is cool enough to point out.

I only know it was a Mustang, because I read the word "Mustang" on the back.

So, I sent this and said: "Wow. Look at this old Mustang."

He replied: "Okay. Why?"

Me: "I thought it was cool. You don't see too many like this nowadays." (I said that twice, yes. Once to you, and then again. Because it's true!)

DG: "That's because the weather is rough for winter. Most of the classics are kept down South. No salt on the roads."

*sigh* That's what he always says no matter where we are or what the context is in seeing a classic car. Always the same argument. If you point out to him that there are classic cars all over the world, not just in the South, he reiterates that he said "Most" and not "all". So, if you point out that there's a classic car show every single year in the very town you live in, he doesn't care. That's a show. You don't see them on the road (which is not true- there are collectors everywhere who only drive their classics onto a trailer, off the trailer at the show, and then back onto it for the drive home).

So, this was my long text reply that probably got sent to his phone in three separate texts:

"Oh, God. No. I am not having THIS discussion again. 'BLAR! Salt on roads!'... 'Blerg! Salt in the air from the ocean!'... 'Classic cars in the South!'... 'Classic cars all over the country!' Blah, blah, blah! You're pretty, I'm pretty. Let's just say classic cars are cool and move on!"

And his reply to that was: "Did you just call me 'pretty'?"

Me: "Yes. We're both pretty. We don't need to argue about classic cars and the weather!" and I sent him a photo of our dog, Bruno, because he's adorable.

A couple hours later, I let him know our oldest daughter is graduating from college this month. I explained that she's not going to the ceremony (she has two jobs) and she never ordered the cap and gown, so it isn't like she can just change her mind and show up. Because I knew he was telling his parents about it, I texted her so I could tell him her exact graduate title. She's graduating with a "Bachelor of Science in Genetics". I asked her what her job title would be, in a general sense and told her I was texting her dad, who was in turn, telling the grandparents.

So, our daughter, Kathy, is a molecular biologist. Or, just simply- a scientist. And, in her words: "Overqualified for this bullshit job". (at the moment, she works in retail. One job is slightly connected to her science background, but still in retail- a pharmacy).

This, ladies and gentlemen, is what a molecular biologist looks like.



And this... this is what she looks like too.

St. Patrick's Day Conversation...

Normally, when we text, I'll screen-cap the shit out of our convo and share it. You'd think that'd be less work than typing it out, but it really isn't. Well, in this case, I'm going to type it out because the Disabled Guy's texts were full of misspellings and in between our discussion, we had a few random things and I just don't feel like editing out those random things. But, the conversation that follows is the actual conversation with his misspellings and text-speak corrected because even though it's great that he can text, his text-speak annoys the hell out of me. (actually, anybody's text speak annoys me).

This all started with him sending me a text, wishing me a Happy St. Patrick's Day. And if you know him, you know he doesn't even like the real holidays- like Christmas, Easter, Thanksgiving, family birthdays, our anniversary.

DG: "Have a good Saint Patrick Day."

Me: "I don't drink. Or have anything green to wear. DEAR GOD! I'M GONNA DIE IF I GO OUTSIDE!! Saint Pats celebrators are like zombies. "Green. GREEEEN!"..."

DG: "I don't have a green shirt either. Of course, I don't have brains either."

Me: "You have a green t-shirt. I can see it from here. And St Pat's people don't want your brains. THEY WANT YOUR GREENS!"

DG: "Well, I don't have it here. But you can wear it."

Me: "I wear 3XL, I can't wear it."

DG: "Ok."

Me: "We're gonna die! St Pats are coming to get us!"

DG: "Not me."

Me: "Oh, they'll find you. THEY ALWAYS FIND YOU!"

DG: "But I'm blessed."

Me: "No one is! SAINT Patrick's Day. We're all gonna die!"

DG: "You're so negative."

Me: "No, I'm just realistic about the green zombies."

DG: "Yes, you so are."

Me: "GREEN ZOMBIE!!" and I sent that with this picture (I Googled "green zombie" on my phone).

DG: "Good God. You are going to die!"

Me: "He's on his way there. I gave him directions to your parents' house. It'll take a few weeks, he bought a ticket on Greyhound."

DG: "Good to know."

Then he sent me a photo of himself, wearing a towel, and said: "Watch out. The one-eyed monster will get you."

Me: "Not here. I'm safer from that than you are from the zombie."

DG: "Ok, but it's out there."

Me: "Not any that are interested in me. Those don't exist anymore."

DG: "You keep thinking that way and then it's going to eat you up."

Me: "Are you talking about zombies or your dick?"

DG: "Both."

Me: "Well, your dick is too far away and the green zombie is on a Greyhound bus."

His reply to that was a photo of him wearing a "Bazinga!" T-shirt with green lettering on it. He said: "I'm saved!"

I sent him a photo of a closeup of my eye and said that I have green flecks in my eye. He then informed me that I might be saved.

And just as quickly as the story escalated, it ended.

Textually Speaking 2015

I'm sorry I haven't updated in quite a while. It isn't because we haven't had conversations. We have, but they're not always memorable or sometimes I just plain old forget them. The new pain meds for my fibro sort of scatter my brain cells into different realms and if I don't write something down, I'll forget it.

I have posted a few things in the Facebook Group. It's a public group, so you don't really even have to be a member of it to see the posts.

I've been meaning to post this conversation for a couple days, but I kept procrastinating myself out of it. Well, here it is- Textually Speaking 2015 edition. (he's yellow, I'm blue; in case you didn't know)

This is just as random as it seems. We were talking about something related to finances just about an hour and a half before this (as you can see in the time-stamp above his first text). So I was literally cooking dinner when he just texted that word to me. And this happened.