Studio Thirty Plus

Woah!  We have 6 this weekend!

Marsha at One Opinionated Woman - Top Gear on History's as American as Apple Pie

Jennifer at Vajenny Monologues - The Time I Almost Got Arrested For Public Indencency

Rich at Round Seventeen - ZOG 102

Sassy at Sassy Stylings - i'm not capitalizing anymore

Robyn at Hollow Tree Ventures - If I Had Known

Joan at Wallner Photography -  Just My O'Pinyon (Part 2) 

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Thanks guys!

Someone from Studio30Plus should have put out an APB regarding my whereabouts.

That is because I have been gone. Did my impression of underpants on a honeymoon and disappeared. Wasn't intentional. Didn't mean to go away but I got caught up in other things.

Never stopped writing. Can't stop the flow of words that runs from my head to my hand and onto the keyboard.

Head over to TheJackB and you will find plenty of material. Or take time to visit Words Left Unwritten and you'll see the story that I am turning into a book.

My absence makes me wonder if the heart grows fonder or if this is proof that absence makes it grow colder. Don't think anyone visited me, at least not because they met me here.

I am not upset about that, it is part of what happens in this wonderful world of social media. People go away and life goes on. Sure my fragile male ego would prefer that people see it otherwise, but I am ok with it.

Old Jack the grumpy dad blogger doesn't write because he hopes to receive validation from readers. He writes because the words are like a fire in his belly that he has to put out.

That doesn't mean that I don't want you to read my words either. I enjoy the interaction and the exchange. I like talking to you.

Perhaps that sounds contradictory, but it makes sense to me.

What do you think? 

I'm going to be 45 in March.  It makes me feel a little sick to admit that. I am not someone who has accepted the aging process well.  I still freak out at the gray hair I often see in the mirror (to be fair, I got my first gray hair at 25... and I cried for pretty much a week after I found it).

For the last 15-20 years if you asked me what I wanted for my birthday or for Christmas or any other gifting occasion I would have told you "I want a tiara".  And then you would have laughed because what would a grown woman possibly want a tiara for?

Well, here's the thing... The Bloggess (who I have a HUGE girl-crush on) has this traveling red dress thing she's doing.  And one of the things she's said about it is that the red dress isn't always a red dress. It is something you've wanted but not gotten/done for yourself because it's just too ridiculous/frivilous/decadent.  And I've come to realize that MY "red dress" is a tiara.  Because you don't just go out and buy yourself a tiara.  I have nowhere to wear a tiara. I have no special occasion I want it for. I can't even articulate to you WHY I want a tiara, I just DO.

I actually added a tiara to my Amazon Wish List last year... and there it sits.  And I am STILL trying to rationalize buying a tiara. And I don't know if I can actually talk myself into being ok with spending the money on a tiara. And no, a cardboard tiara would NOT be "just as good".  Because if you're going to have a tiara, you may as well go for "the real thing".

I'll let you know if I ever go ahead and get my tiara. And maybe just putting out the intention to the Universe is enough.  It's fun to think about, anyways.

Rich at Round Seventeen - The Dim Reaper

Taryn at Mama's Got Wanderlust - A Letter to Charlotte at 2 Years Old

Sassy at Sassy Stylings - I make laugh, I genius

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That's all for this week!

Joseph at Mostly Harmless Drivel - 700 Hoboes: Lord Dan X. Still Standing

Christian at Point Counter-Point Point Point - Are Video Games Bad For Our Kids And Does It Matter, Because I Really Like Them

Sassy at Sassy Stylings - When Good Shit Starts To Smell


There you go!  Have great weekends!

My first real experience dating didn't happen until after I had turned 30. That's not to say I was some sort of social idiot. Or home-schooled. But, how I met my ex-wife at 12, married at 22, divorced at 28 and headed right into a more than four-year relationship with the first gay guy I really met is sort of a story for another day. Or not.

In any case, my first go at actual dating happened when I was 32. I wasn't really sure what to do. I was gay, so I assumed the best thing to do was get online at Gay.com. Big mistake. Every interaction there started with questions about my cock size and my favorite position. Wow...nice to meet you, too. I learned from a friend about another site; the now-defunct Connexion, and that seemed more my speed. People were more focussed on common interests and getting to know one another, rather than finding a quick lay, which seemed the name of the game in this Brave New World.

I quickly found myself floundering in the sheer numbers of people who were available and talking to me. Actual guys. Hot guys. TALKING TO ME! Turns out, I was just fresh meat. Also turns out people aren't that picky when they just want someone to suck their dick. A little deflated and discouraged, I revised my approach and developed a very specific set of criteria. I basically had a list, and each time I would contact a guy, or a guy would contact me, I'd work a sort of interview into the conversation and compare it against my list of criteria. If the basics were a match, I'd insist on meeting in person for dinner or a drink. I wasn't about to get caught up in an endless game of online back-and-forth, and frankly, in Utah there is always the risk the guy who is messaging you is a married Mormon with five kids and is just looking to get his rocks off chatting online. There's probably a much greater chance of that being the case with the guy you're chatting up than most would think. In fact, I'd say it's about a 50-50 shot. No shit.

So, what were my criteria? They were pretty basic. The guy should be in an acceptable age range. Five up or five down from my age was my basic line in the sand. Had to have a job. A real job. Needed to have a car. That actually ran. Needed to have his own place. Living in the parents' basement (another common Utah malady...even with the straights) or having 5 roommates didn't count. And, needed to like being outdoors, including camping, backpacking, hiking, snowshoeing, etc. That was really it. I thought it was a pretty liberal list, and one that didn't require anything extraordinary.

And, along came Rick. Rick chatted me up one night and we had a great (online) conversation. His profile picture indicated he was attractive. He talked about his job with a real estate brokerage, his Jeep Wrangler and his love for camping. My hopes buoyed, I went for the typical deal killer...I asked for a dinner date. Rick quickly accepted, and we made plans for a few days later at a local Italian eatery. Score!

The evening of my date with Rick arrived, and I was waiting at the restaurant about 10 minutes early since I wanted to be sure we'd get a table. 30 minutes later, I was still sitting in the waiting area, reading the fourth text message Rick sent saying he was "almost there." The only thing more frustrating than Rick's tardiness (way to make a great first..err, second...impression) was the overweight Italian server continually asking me if I just wanted to be seated alone. I vowed to wait only five more minutes and then leave, but I saw a Jeep Wrangler pull into the lot. Date saved.

Rick walked in and the first thing that struck me was, "Wow...this guy is tall." That impression quickly gave way to the next. "Oh fuck." Rick was decked out in the tightest pair of skinny jeans I'd ever seen. And for the Amazon woman he was, it had to be quite a task to get those bitches up his legs. He had them plugged at the bottom with a pair of snakeskin, pointy-toed shoes, and capped off the whole ensemble was his skin tight striped shirt, unbuttoned to what may as well have been his navel. His freshly waxed and fake tanned chest complemented his large diamond earrings, and I found myself wondering where his man-purse was. 

It turns out, it was in his mouth. And it wasn't a man-purse.

Rick:  So, tell me...why in the world would anyone ever want to go sleep in a tent somewhere?!
Me:  Um. Oh boy.
Rick:  I mean, like, I get camping. As long as I can take my Jeep. Well, I mean...my ex's Jeep.
Me:  Oh. Wow.
Rick:  I guess I just don't see what you see in it.

Another part of my criteria...or, rules, if you will...was that "he who invites pays." I invited Rick, so I planned on paying for the meal. And, I hadn't picked a cheap place to eat, but I was OK with that because the food is amazing, the service is personal and the ingredients are all local. And, I was looking forward to enjoying the evening with a cool guy.

I ordered an appetizer. And a main course. And a bottle of wine. And dessert. And a coffee. And a nightcap. And, when the check came, I didn't even offer to split it. I let the lying asshole across the table pay for the entire meal. And, when he winked and said, "Next time it's on you," I smiled and said, "Yeah...probably not."

I left the restaurant full, but pissed off. I had been cheated. I wanted dinner with the Rick I'd chatted with online. The Rick who liked to camp. And who had a good job (I'd find out later that the Rick who showed up late and blamed it on work was unemployed at the time). The Rick who actually owned the Jeep instead of borrowing if from his ex. Who he was still probably fucking. I wanted to be done with dating in Salt Lake City right then and there.

But, this was just the beginning.

Sassy at Sassy Stylings - When "mommy" equals "money"

Big Avocado - How to Talk to a Guy Whose Mom Just Died

Kimberly at Rubber Chicken Madness - (x+y) + wine/tired=?

Thanks everyone!  Have a great weekend!

Visiting a blog recently I found a short post entitled "This Blog is Bullshit." The writer was frustrated, feeling like he is putting in an effort without getting closer to his goals. The writer complained he didn't feel like he had goals anymore. He was seriously considering closing his blog down. This writer was going to stop writing.

Have you felt that way before?

I have.

I believe every writer has that moment.

I know the frustration, looking at the hours I commit to writing, the time I could be doing something else, and the lack of revenue from my efforts. Probably like you, I have questioned my sanity. 

But then I am overcome by the realization that the writing has me; I am powerless. There is a need to breathe, hydrate, eat, sleep, and write. It is part of my existence. 

Writing isn't about money, recognition, or fame. It is a way to express yourself and sometimes to heal.

This is what all of us need to hear in that moment of doubt:

• Your audience appreciates you.
• Keep writing.
• Never give up.

None of us should ever give up. 

~~~~~~~~~

Naked Girl in a Dress

Google+

I first met Dr. Doolittle back in August. Today we crossed paths again, but this time it was not for me.

Early yesterday morning, I took my daughter to school and started off for Greenville College. Since all my classes are online right now, I rarely need to go to the campus, but I had an issue with my financial aid that needed to be sorted out and decided to do it face to face. I was about 2 minutes from getting on the interstate when I received a call from my buddy, Adam.

Adam: Are you on the road yet?
Me: I'm still in town, but headed out. Did you decide to go with me?
Adam: No. I need you to take me to the hospital.
Me: What's going on?
Adam: I don't want to say, but there's a lot of blood.
Me: I'll be right there.

I turned around to find out what calamity had visited Adam. I get to his house to find him groaning and attempting to put on some pants to leave the house.

Me: What happened?
Adam: I am bleeding from my groin!

He then gestured toward the bathroom. I peered in and saw blood all over the toilet seat, the floor and the sink. Not just spatters, but a lot of it.

Me: Did you have your period?
Adam:  Very funny. Can we go now?

On the way, he explained that he had developed an ingrown or infected hair follicle a few weeks ago high on his inner thigh. Not a big deal. It happens. But this one didn't just go away in a few days. It got infected and grew. Adam did not get too concerned about this. He has seen his share of medical problems and was not going to get worked up over a little swelling. Three years ago, he had his feet amputated after being in a three-week coma due to the toxic shock his body endured from developing a rare blood disorder. He spent a lot of time in the hospital and almost died, so this appeared trivial in comparison.

After mild discomfort for a few days, the real pain started when he went to bed that night. He endured it until morning and it ruptured somewhere between getting out of bed and going to the bathroom. After having a seat, he discovers his hand is covered in blood. A quick check confirms the area he is bleeding from and the inevitable freak-out begins.

Once he realizes what has actually happened, he calms down a bit, but is still in a lot of pain. Despite most of the pressure from the infection being released, he now has an open would on a very sensitive area. It hurt to move or even let the air touch it. That's when he decided to call me.

Our local hospital is under heavy construction, so there are no decent parking spaces available. And due to him only having stumps for feet he cannot walk vary far. I let him out at the ambulance entrance and went to find a parking space. I walked in a few minutes later and asked what room the big guy that walks funny was in. He yelled from one of the rooms. The curtain was closed so I could not see anything, but the smell hit me right away. The blood, sweat and fermented pus was perfectly combined to create an odor that should be manufactured by the military to drive out enemy insurgents.

Since Adam has had so much experience dealing with medical professionals, he has learned how to communicate with them very efficiently. Any time one of them touches him, he screams a string of profanities loud enough to make the windows shake. The nurse said, "I just need to see it." Adam tried to kick her with his stump.

Once she left, he asked me how bad it was. He hadn't seen it because it was in a precarious place where he could not get to it. The last thing a guy wants to see is the groin area of one of his male friends. It's worse than talking about feelings or admitting you like Cher. I didn't want to look, but I try to be a good friend and he really wanted to know. I mentally secured myself in my masculinity and took a look. He attempted to show me, but all I saw was a bloody mess. I never saw the actual rupture. Plus, exposing the area reignited the smell. I gave a quick nod.

Adam: How bad is it?
Me: Oh, you don't want to know. It looks awful. Bloody, fleshy mess.

In walks Dr. Doolittle. The last time I saw him, he was inserting a needle into the joint in my shoulder. Click his name if you don't know what I am talking about. He pulls the sheet back to take a look and does what every doctor does. He starts poking around the injured area. Adam quickly becomes vocal again. When Doolittle squeezed the area to see if anything came out, Adam reached a decibel level not heard since Hiroshima.

Doolittle released his grip, smiled at Adam and asked, "Did that hurt?"

Now that may sound cruel, but it was actually funny. Dr. Doolittle has a great bedside manner and said it in a way to lighten the mood. Adam laughed through his tears. He then told us it was just an abscess that needed to drain for a few days, gave Adam some tips to take care of it and prescribed some antibiotics.

Exactly two minutes later, the nurse walks in with his prescription and insurance info. I immediately complained, "When I was here, I had to wait in the room for at least 45 minutes before you guys came back in to let me go. How does he get such fast service?"

She calmly replied, "When you use the words he used and at the volume he uses them, we want you out of here as fast as possible."

I told her, "I will remember that."

I was driving home with a friend after last week’s rain and she noticed a beautiful rainbow over the trees to the east.  It was probably the brightest one I have ever seen.  I pulled the van off the road to admire it before it faded away.  It was amazing.    

After watching the rainbow for a while she commented that she really didn’t understand how rainbows hang in the sky like that.  I felt obliged to explain it to her and started to give her the history of rainbows.  I explained that they were a product of the U.S. military and why they were invented in 1947.  She abruptly cut me off.  She exclaimed that although she may not know how they work, she knew they have been around for  thousands of years.  She gently reminded me that it was in the Bible that God created rainbows after the Flood to show the world that he would never destroy the earth by flood again.

She was referring to Genesis 9:13 which reads in the New International Version, “I have set my rainbow in the clouds, and it will be the sign of the covenant between me and the earth.”  I couldn’t blame her.  It is a common, although misguided thought.  The translators of the NIV made a mistake.  If we look at the King James Version, it reads, “I do set my bow in the cloud, and it shall be for a token of a covenant between me and the earth.”  The King James translates the Hebrew word קשת correctly.  Unfortunately, there has been a misconception of what a bow is.  The word has evolved and has not been used in this manner for several centuries.

The word bow according to the Merriam-Webster Dictionary when used as a verb means “to cease from competition or resistance.”  You can check the definition here.  While this word is now only used as a verb, at one time it was used as a noun.  When used as a noun, it meant a “cessation of substance” or “area of lower density.”

Therefore, when Genesis says that God created a bow, it referred to an area of less or no rain in the midst of rain.  A rainbow and a rain bow are not the same thing.  While a rainbow is the colorful arc caused after a rain by the refraction and reflection of the sun’s rays in raindrops, spray, or mist, a rain bow is a place in the middle of a storm where there is no rain.  When you are driving in the rain and it stops for a moment and then starts again, that was a bow in the rain, or a rain bow.  It is the same as when you can see it raining across the street, but it is not raining where you are.  This is a rain bow.  Now that we have that cleared up, let’s get back to the origin of rainbows like the one we were looking at last week.

Rainbows were invented by military scientists at the Roswell Army Air Field in Roswell, New Mexico.  The air field had a national security issue in the mid-1940’s that needed to be promptly resolved.  Roswell was the leading manufacturer of experimental aircraft for the military and often tested their new developments late at night when most people would be asleep.  Unfortunately, the unusual lights in the sky were frequently spotted by people who worked late and insomniacs.

Military scientists and engineers brainstormed to come up with a solution.  They needed to prevent civilians from witnessing the test flights and possibly discovering military secrets.  They concluded that building a wall two miles tall around the entire base would not be cost-effective and relocating the civilians within eyesight would take too long.  It was in this brainstorming session that they came up with Project R.A.I.N.B.O.W.

Radio-Active Iridescent Nuclear Bio-Optical Weapon

While not actually a weapon, the idea was to create something bright and beautiful in the sky in the opposite direction of the planes doing their test flights.  This would cause people to be distracted and not notice the planes.  This brilliant concept still works today.  When someone sees a rainbow, they always point it out to other people and those people always look.  Some people even go as far as to make a phone call to tell people to look out their window at the beautiful rainbow.  A bank could get robbed and it would not be noticed if there was a rainbow glowing in the sky in the opposite direction.

After spending millions of dollars, Project R.A.I.N.B.O.W. was almost scrapped after it’s first test run.  On July 9, 1947 the local newspaper Roswell Daily Record reported that a high-altitude weather balloon crashed on a ranch near the airfield.  There was much speculation and many rumors milling around the area about what had actually crashed, but the newspaper story was correct.  It was a weather balloon, but the military did not release the rest of the story.

The weather balloon went down because a test pilot collided with it in mid-air.  He had been temporarily blinded when a bright flash of colors shot up from the ground.  The blinded pilot veered off-course and struck the weather balloon.  The pilot and plane were fine, but the balloon crashed to the earth.  After a few more test runs with similar near disastrous results, the scientists made a few adjustments and re-engineered their new invention to work during the day.  From this point on all test flights were done in broad daylight while people were mesmerized by the pretty colors on the other side of the horizon.

After several years of successful test flights without incident the generals in the Pentagon were looking for a more destructive, military-type use for the rainbows.  They wanted to use them strategically in war situations.  Since the rainbow had no destructive power, the generals decided to use it in the same manner it had been used successfully for the last several years.  It makes a wonderful distraction.  It could be implemented outside an enemy air field keeping enemy pilots from reaching their destination.  It could also be turned on in the middle of a fierce land battle.  Unsuccessful tests were conducted to produce special lenses that could be worn by American soldiers so they would not be distracted by it’s brilliance.

In the mid-50’s, they had their answer.  Computers had become sophisticated enough that scientists installed the rainbows with artificial intelligence.  With an independent intelligence, the rainbows' computers could make split-second decisions on the battlefield to determine the most strategic place to illuminate.  The research laboratory was brimming with excitement as the programmers awaited the results of the field test.

Things did not go the way the generals, engineers, and programmers had planned.   It seemed that the rainbows could not determine the difference between domestic and foreign soldiers.  They distracted every moving thing on the battlefield.  With these disappointing results and the recent dismantling of the Roswell experimental flight program, Washington decided to bury the project.  However, the newly intelligent rainbows were not ready to be put down.  The rainbows' failure on the battlefield was due to the fact that they were now only interested in self-preservation.  They saw every person as an enemy to themselves with no regard for who may be an American.  The rainbows used their new intelligence to formulate a plan to escape from the base and power themselves.

The military launched a full-scale assault against the rainbows to no avail.  Rainbows cannot be destroyed since they are only a refraction of light.  Despite the best efforts of the military the rainbows remained at large and even began to reproduce themselves.  Within weeks there were sightings of rogue rainbows in every state in the country.

Although rainbows could not be destroyed, they did not enjoy being attacked all the time.  Using their computer-speed intelligence they came up with a plan to get back at the people that were trying to destroy them.  Since they had no actual defenses and could not do any damage they decided to retaliate by creating a nuisance that could not be ignored.  Rainbows understood that they were beautiful creations that people loved to stare at.  They decided to make something devoid of color that people would not want to see or experience.  It needed to be something that would make people cringe at the very thought.  The rainbows had their plan and they released their creation onto the world: MIMES!!!


Just as the rainbows had planned, they were soon forgotten about.  Mimes were everywhere.  They infiltrated birthday parties, state carnivals, and public parks.  People could not walk through a park without being imitated by one of these black and white abominations.  Worldwide public outrage prompted a quick response from governments all over the world.  The United States, facing international pressure, lead the way in trying to eradicate the Mime Invasion.

Since mimes are similar in appearance to humans, they could not be killed without protests from various human rights organizations.  Congress passed laws forbidding people from feeding them, housing them, or offering them employment.  Countries around the world quickly followed suit.  France, however, offered mimes asylum and they congregated there by the thousands.


Around the world most mimes died within a few months and their bodies littered the streets.  The smell of decaying mimes was too much for the public to bear.  The same problem was occurring in France despite the special statutes protecting them, because due to the huge numbers of mimes in the country as a result of the protective sanctuary that was offered to them, there was not sufficient mime food to feed them all.  Nevertheless, the smell didn’t seem to bother the French.  In other parts of the world Mime Rights groups were starting to form.  One organization even succeeded in getting mimes established as their own race.

Since mimes are not particularly intelligent, unlike their creators, most just died off, but some of the craftier ones banded together to survive.  A few even became part of paramilitary resistance groups.  In Waco, Texas a mime resistance group formed calling themselves Fighters Against Racial Tension (FART).  They were silent, but deadly.  In their last stand, they held off ATF agents for 50 days before being burned out and gunned down.  This marked the end of guerrilla mime warfare.

Public outrage forced Congress to pursue a new tactic.  Lawmakers knew that the mime scourge still had to be squashed, but it had to be done discreetly.  All laws restricting travel, lodging, and commerce were lifted and the government even provided jobs for every mime.  Call centers were set up all over the country and the mimes were put to work as telemarketers.  The scheme was brilliant.  The government had provided jobs and given them a way to support themselves.  No one could legitimately complain.

The telemarketing jobs offered fantastic compensation, but it was based on commission only.  If the mimes wanted to get paid they had to make sales.  The program would take care of itself.  The mime population has been dropping steadily ever since.  There are very few left today.  The world is possibly one generation away from putting this dark period behind us.

However, if you are one of those bleeding heart types that feels sorry for them, remember this next time you get one of those phone calls and there is no one on the other end.  It may just be a mime trying to feed his family.  When you get that call just say, “I’ll take two,” and then give your credit card information.  You may just save a life.