JB and The Brain, Act I

just bob (JB): That's a good blog topic
The Brain: You can't write about that
JB: But it's honest
The Brain: Is it too honest?
JB: Nah, I think it's fine
The Brain: Would you tell me if it wasn't?
JB: I wouldn't have brought it up if it was too honest
The Brain: OK, it's fine but you still can't write it
JB: I need to get it off my chest
The Brain: It's no picnic up here either with it rattling around
JB: Good, we agree
The Brain: But you still can't write it
JB: It will quiet things up there for you
The Brain: True
JB: And the rest of me will feel better too
The Brain: Good point
JB: And maybe someone will read it and have some advice
The Brain: You're starting to make a lot of sense
JB: Thank you
The Brain: You're welcome, but you still can't write it
JB: You are getting on my nerves
The Brain: I control your nerves, don't start with me
JB: Alright, sorry
The Brain: That's better
JB: Why can't I write it?
The Brain: They may read it
JB: Who?
The Brain: You know, t-h-e-m
JB: You mean wwwww and xxxxx and yyyyy and zzzzz right?
The Brain: SHHHH!!!!!
JB: Would it be that bad if they did read it?
The Brain: Of course it would
JB: Really?
The Brain: Yes
JB: Why?
The Brain: Do you really want them knowing that?
JB: Well, um, maybe
The Brain: It would change everything and not for the better
JB: You think?
The Brain: It's my job to think, so yes
JB: But it's already changed things for me
The Brain: Well they don't need to know that. Listen, it won't help things
JB: Hurt?
The Brain: Yes, if they read what you want to write it would do some harm
JB: I don't want to do that
The Brain: I know you don't
JB: So I can't write it
The Brain: No, I'm sorry you can't
JB: And I've got to keep feeling this way?
The Brain: Unfortunately yes for a while
JB: My blog buddies would understand
The Brain: I know they would
JB: They would try to help
The Brain: I know, I like them too
JB: Can I ask a question?
The Brain: You are so full of questions today, go ahead
JB: Are we really going to go through this every time?
The Brain: Pretty much
JB: That sucks
The Brain: Pretty much

I'm such a lightweight

There used to be a day, not too long ago, that I could drink... a lot. One of my favorite places back east would serve big boy 22 oz. beers and I could down two before I'd even start to feel the effects. I'm not talking about light beer now, this was fresh, full octane micro-brew straight from the brewhouse. It didn't end with those first two on many nights.

Turn the calendar forward one year and one regular bottle nearly knocks me out. Now, it doesn't give me a buzz or anything like that but it makes me want to take a nap. Seriously, I get really tired after only one. I know it's not very manly to admit that, but for some very strange reason I feel it's kind of an accomplishment.

I was a late bloomer when it comes to alcohol, not getting drunk for the first time till I was in college. It was at a really sketchy dive bar in Fort Lauderdale called Skip's Cobra with the guys from my dorm floor. Some of you may remember those days, when Fort Liquordale was still a hot spot for spring break. The bartenders and wait staff all wore t-shirts with the slogan "No Fat Chicks ever at Skip's Cobra." No wonder a bunch of college guys picked that place. Another reason was probably that it was so easy to get a fake i.d. past the bouncer. I still can't drink rum and coke after that night.

That first night of bed spins and projectile vomiting led to years of drinking to be sociable and part of the group. Somewhere along the way the motive for drinking went from feeling good to not feeling at all. It was the easiest and cheapest way to drown all of my negative, hurtful, and painful emotions and thoughts. It wasn't so much to fit in with the others, it was to fit in with myself. I don't believe I was (or am) an alcoholic, but I do realize now that I abused alcohol. Sure it's probably a big dose of self-rationalization on my part but you've got to cut me some slack. Then a hard life lesson slapped me in the face and woke me up. That's another one of those things I won't go into here, but needless to say it changed a lot things.

I took a pledge that I wouldn't have another drink when I "needed" one, only when I "wanted" one. For some unknown reason, all of those resolutions to lose weight, exercise, be more organized, yada yada yada have fallen by the wayside but this one has stuck. If I was going to waiver, it would have been last week but it never happened. In fact, the thought of drinking never even crossed my mind. It's been a long journey from Skip's Cobra and I'm not proud of some of those days and nights, but I'm pleased that trek is over.

Where shopping is a pleasurable memory

Queen Goob said the magic word in her blog today and made me feel warm all over.


I loved Publix, I still love Publix, I yearn for Publix. For those of you that don't know, Publix is a supermarket chain located mainly in Florida but also throughout many Southeastern U.S. states. Just reading the word this morning brought forth a flood of thoughts and memories of my youth.

I remember going to Publix with my mom and brother, going up and down each aisle in the weekly ritual called family grocery shopping. It was always a battle between me and my brother who got to drive the cart. We started by getting the cart and going to the front customer service desk to buy mom's cigarettes (thank goodness she quit many years ago) and get her check pre-approved for her purchase. Later in life and before debit cards, buying lottery tickets replaced the cigarettes but you still needed the check pre-approved. It was such a big deal getting to push the cart to us. Mom softened the blow by letting the losing boy sit in the front seat of the station wagon on the way home.

I remember the front of every store had a big professional scale next to the 25-cent bubblegum machines for people to weigh themselves. You could see through the dial and watch the levers and springs move as you stood on it. It was cool when both my brother and I got on at the same time to see how high we could get the scale to go. They used to break down some of their shipping boxes too and leave them up front for people to take for free. Looking back, this now strikes me as one of the first efforts of recycling.

I remember getting to the checkout line and the miles and miles of S&H Green Stamps we would get for a cart full of groceries. Maybe the highlight of the trip, we would get home and help mom put the groceries away just so we could start working on the Green Stamps. They came in different denominations and you pasted them into books until each page of the book had the sufficient number of points. Get enough completed books together and you could redeem them at the Green Stamp store for merchandise. Where I grew up the Green Stamp store was right next door to Publix so you could always look in and see the coolest new stuff they had or pick up a catalog so you knew how many books to collect to get what you wanted. I don't think mom ever used them on toys for us boys, but it was fun going with her to help select the new digital alarm clock, lamp for the nightstand, or other household need. For a middle class family, those Green Stamps really helped out.

I remember Publix had THE BEST southern fried chicken at the deli. It kicked the crap out of the Colonel and his special mix of herbs and spices. This chicken was made by genuine genteel southern women in white smocks and hairnets cooking the way their mothers taught them. I can't tell you how much Publix fried chicken I've consumed in my lifetime, but it may be enough to fill a good sized chicken coop.

Publix has had the slogan, "Publix, where shopping is a pleasure" forever. What they don't know is that the pleasure lasts long after you leave the store. Queen Goob thank you so much for stirring up so many good memories with just one word.

My BFF

OK, enough about me. Time for the tens of people who actually read this blog to learn about others involved in shaping The Essence of Bobness. Today’s featured profile... my best friend.

I met this guy about 13 years ago in Florida. We were introduced through a mutual friend, the girl I was dating/not dating at the time (you’ll have to check here to get up to speed on that). Anyway, there seemed to be some sort of immediate kindred spirit between the two of us and we’ve been close ever since. In the years since we met I’ve lived in Colorado, New Hampshire, Massachusetts and now California. Somehow, even with all of the relocating for both of us, we still find the time to connect on a regular basis.

I’m a fairly low-key guy, but his energy is electric. Every time we get together he always gets me in a better mood. That’s probably why we hit it off. For someone who needs a boost on occasion, you can see why he is a good friend to have. One of the things I like about him is his transparency. Not a game-player, you always know how he’s doing and never have to guess. But the thing I like about him most is his dependability. Whenever I’ve needed him, he’s always been there for me… day or night. Like any friend, you have to overlook some of his flaws and help him out when he needs it. It doesn’t take much to get him overheated. It’s like you flick a switch sometimes and he’s immediately fired up. I can usually get him to cool down after a while, but it isn’t easy. He’s also a little warped upstairs if you know what I mean. Other than that, I can’t say anything else bad about him. He’s been a true friend, loyal, and giving. He has been a big part of my life, and always will be. One of the people in this world I’ve always been able to depend on.

My BFF... Mr. Coffee

An update

To begin, thank you to everyone for the past week. I can't really offer a proper dedication to all of you right now, but I hope to be able to soon. Just know that I am sincere and the sentiments & thoughts you expressed are much appreciated.

As episodes go, this one has peaked (I hope) at around a 7.5 on a scale of 10. I've had worse but there's a shaky truce in place right now. Some day when the synapses and serotonin in my brain are working well enough together I'll fill everyone in the best I am able. I don't mean to make light of the terrible circumstances that Inner Voices and others are battling with all the fires out here, but suffice it to say that same kind of turmoil was going on (and still is) inside my head. Fortunately, I've gained ground in my struggle and can write a few words. These words won't win any prizes and won't be humorous or enlightened, but they will be spelled correctly.

Sunday afternoon was interesting. When I am going through an episode, I punish myself in a variety of different ways. One of them is forcing myself to do things I don't want to do, like super clean the kitchen and bathroom. Not normal cleaning or even extra "mom's visiting" cleaning, it's more like "I want to get all of my security deposit back before leaving" cleaning. I finished this and the last task was to start the dishwasher (my nemesis). As I sat in the living room, I heard some loud noises coming from the kitchen. I suspected something wasn't loaded correctly in the dishwasher and was banging around. It happens on occasion so I didn't think much of it. The noise persisted and became annoying enough for me (already with a short fuse) to get up to reload the machine. I get to the kitchen and there are small explosions coming from the electric oven/range, which was not turned on, with sparks and smoke flying around inside it. The very strong smell an electrical fire puts off was starting to fill the kitchen. Surprisingly, even with my mental condition, my instincts and training took over. I ran to the circuit breaker and cut all power to the apartment, which would stop any further sparks. Back to the kitchen with the fire extinguisher, it looked like nothing inside was on fire. Not leaving the kitchen (in case an undetected fire flared up), I called building maintenance who arrived very quickly. Indeed, there was no fire.

After pulling the range apart, he found a circuit board that had totally fried. It was scorched darker than burnt toast, with one of the brass conductors completely melted and a diode blown off the board and laying inside the range. The best we could guess was that some of the soapy water from the cleaning seeped under one of range dials, hit the circuit board, and started the incident. He changed the board in less than 30 minutes and was out the door while I spent the rest of the afternoon worrying about what would have happened had I left after cleaning and no one was home. The wayward electrical shocks bouncing around the oven seem to form an appropriate metaphor for what is going on in my head. If only it was as easy a fix as a simple circuit board.