rustle

I enjoy wrapping presents, and being creative about it. Whether it's putting a cone on top and fins on the bottom of a cylinder to turn it into a 50s rocket ship, or sculpting the wrapping paper into a rat with a 12" tail, I'm fairly good at it. Usually, I find myself short on time, though, and resort to the right rectangular prism, glitzy paper, maybe a ribbon wrap and a bow. The evolution of gift bags hasn't gone unnoticed. Those holidays that I was broke, the Sunday comics made a good gift wrap. I've also used brown kraft wrap, butcher paper, and fluorescent printing papers. My favorite is the brown kraft wrap, tied up with plain string (no tape, no ribbon, no bow, no tag). One year, I found my mom's stash of Christmas gifts, and totally spoiled the surprise. Never again. I'd rather not know until that day. When it comes to unwrapping, I don't salvage paper. Bows, maybe. I always carry a pocket knife. The first Christmas after my nephews were adopted, one borrowed my knife and sliced himself pretty good. My sister laughed at him, and told him my pocket knives are always sharp. "Merry Christmas. Let's go get you bandaged up."

I remember it well. David rolled over on his buddies, turning state's evidence. In his confession, he was always there, watching, but never participated. Also, his buddies raped him a few times, but he stuck around. Up in Seattle, I heard about it on national news. Every night, another detail, another victim was revealed. He was a cute guy, but easily led. It always surprised me they didn't kill him, too.

I was in high school in Houston at the time, and knew David Owen Brooks socially. If I hadn't spent summers with my godfather in Seattle, I might have ended up in that boat shed, under a dusting of quicklime.

hey Benji, happy birthday I hope it's a great one.

Don't you USUALLY email things like this to everybody? Well, now that you've shown your ass to people who can't appreciate it, I'm with Irri. I think you ought to share it with us, too.

Hey Nost, Happy Burfday. Many more, and each one better than the last.

I know I'm early, but I'm notorious about being late for these sorts of things. So, before I forget, Happy Birthday, Wayne. Here's wishing you all the best.

Happy Birthday, Jeremy!

Happy Birthday!

It's pretty obvious that the driver wasn't even looking back when he or she was backing up. Surprisingly, that's not uncommon. Dave peeled off a square foot of paint on my car backing out of our driveway, and my sister just punctured my bumper after she had me pull my car into her driveway, "where it'll be safer."

Happy Birthday, Matt. I hope it's a great one.

Five words for you. Calaveras Big Trees State Park. Make the reservation, months in advance if you have to. It's unbelievable. I hugged a giant sequoia there, once. It's funny. We were there, and ambling around a little town. We kept seeing green painted frog footprints on the sidewalks, and it finally dawned on me where I'd heard of Calaveras before - The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County. I started looking around, and everywhere I turned was a place name in Mark Twain's book, Roughing It. Duh.

I hope it's colder than a well digger's ass. I love camping in the winter.

Camping over the weekend at Enchanted Rock. The bedrock under the whole state is pink granite. In a few places, the bedrock has been upthrust as a hill. At night, the wind in the rocks sounds magical.

Wow! Cherish that gift. You know it didn't come easy.

I need a cold shower. Thanks Pat.

Oh, wow, Happy Birthday, Aditus! I hope it's really a great one for you, but not nearly as good as the next!

Happy Burfday, NTM. I hope you have a great day and evening.

Hey Mikie. I hope it's been a great one, with many even better to come.

Hey Louis. Happy Happy and all that. All the best, lots of it, and good company to share it with.

I read about this on Tumblr, and got to be friends with one of these young men. A finer man, I've never known. A couple of friends who'd known and loved other all their lives broke up when one decided he could pray the gay away. After high school, the second friend moved to another town with his folks, but he never forgot the love of his life, and would play this song on his guitar and cry at night. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-cOCmC_m23E After two years, the first boy gave up and gave in, broke up with his girlfriend, and blogged about his anguish and pain for months. His friend found the blog, and discovered how much his best friend loved him, still. He discovered his friend tortured himself with guilt and remorse for driving away the love of his life. With some help, the two began to contact one another and talk, and rediscovered their friendship and deep love for each other. Brad and Zach are now living together, attending university together, and will be getting married next month. But the song still tears me up.

Before you buy a new one, check and see if somebody in your area works on that brand, and replacement parts are sold. If this had happened while it was under warranty, you probably still would have had to ship it to their factory (at your expense). You would've been glowing in the dark, then.

If I could change on a whim, or a thought? No. Even though I used to wish that I could be "like him." I think there's wisdom inherent in playing the hand we're dealt.

Hi Richard. I hope we hear more from you. Welcome.

Hi Linux, Welcome to Bedlam. (jk) Glad you could join us. I hope you'll enjoy it here, whether you're into reading, writing, or just hanging out with the community. rusty