I'm listening to John Anderson's rendition of "Shuttin' Detroit Down", which in every way is better than John Rich's version. The two co-wrote the song together, and it made me disappointed slightly to find that on Anderson's new album a version of the song existed. Rich has saw a reasonable amount of success with his single release of the song, and I feel like Anderson could have seen just as much, if not more due to his previous efforts in the music industry. Alas, that's not how it was to be.
This is my first blog since I moved to the University of Kentucky. Things aren't too much different in Lexington than they are in Inez, except there's a whole lot more to do. I miss my pals who aren't here, but other than that it's fantastic.
I'm trying to get a job involving writing for a sports retailer. I had to do a sample assignment. I'll post it here now for anyone interested. Other than that, there's going to be nothing else discussed. Lame blog, I know, but just letting people know I'm alive.
My prompt: To talk about something interesting about any NFL team that wasn't the 49ers, Dolphins, Bears, Bengals or Vikings. Pretty self-explanatory.
My chosen team: Denver Broncos
The Denver Broncos hope is that the hiring of Josh McDaniels will rejuvenate a franchise that has only won a single playoff game since John Elway retired. They’ve rolled the dice, and it remains to be seen how much luck they have on their side.
Bad luck for an opposing team can win a few football games for whoever they are playing. Fumbles on a simple run play, wide receivers slipping seconds before a game winning touchdown reception would have been made, referees misplacing the spot of the ball - these are slight mishaps on the gridiron often classified under “rotten luck” more often than “poor skill” that many times result in a win for the team that had lady luck smiling down at them.
This “rotten luck” doesn’t make itself more apparent than when it’s in the form of an injury, especially when a star player is stricken. If LaDainian Tomlinson busts up both his ankles, the Chargers will be lucky to turn out a .500 record. Steve Smith screws up his shoulder, and suddenly the Panthers playoff hopes are shot. Tom Brady blows out his knee during the first game of the season, so now New England’s chances for redemption in the Super Bowl will have to wait until next year.
Or not.
It should not have been a surprise that the New England Patriots, a remarkable example of how an organization should be run, from the front office to the field, and arguably the greatest professional sports franchise of the past decade, would turn rotten luck into an opportunity the bottom feeders of the league would trade a series of first round draft picks for.
It was a surprise.
For Josh McDaniels and Matt Cassel, it was a surprise that took them from being the backseat drivers of a well-equipped, battle-tested football machine to the driver’s seat of different rigs rich with pigskin tradition but wrought with different respective issues. Driver’s seats that happened to have ample amounts of cash hidden underneath them.
Matt Cassel’s performance in the absence of Tom Brady was excellent, but much credit was given to offensive coordinator and quarterbacks coach Josh McDaniels for preparing the NFL bench-warmer who never even started a game during his college career for the moment he would be needed, should it ever arise. Therefore, it wasn’t a shock that McDaniels’ name was a hot one in the off-season hustle and bustle of potential head coaching offers. However, when the Denver Broncos fired long-time head coach Mike Shanahan and replaced him with McDaniels, more than a few heads turned.
Being Josh McDaniels in 2009 is going to be awfully similar to being Matt Cassel in 2008.
Cassel was just doing what he had to do, was present when the moment called for him to be there. Still, the eyes of every poor performing team’s scouts and executives were glued to the man who was doing things even Tom Brady hadn’t done before, like throw for 400 yards in a game - or doing it on consecutive weekends. He even beat Brett Favre in his first official NFL start. He had to make people forget about Brady’s three Super Bowl rings and make them look at Matt Cassel. Cassel eventually turned “rotten luck” into 6 years and $28 million guaranteed from the Kansas City Chiefs. There it will be seen how much of Cassel’s success was due to McDaniels’ offensive procedure and the players around him. Still, the franchise is rebuilding and his leash will likely be a long one.
Josh McDaniels, too, has come into a situation where a seasoned veteran is currently off-duty. While luck granted him the opportunity of a lifetime, a head coaching job in the NFL for a prolific franchise, the man who stood on the sidelines over the past 13 years where he’ll be standing won two Super Bowls and kept the team in playoff contention almost every single season. It gave him a team with excellent offensive players, his area of expertise, but also a team whose defense has been the actual point of concern over the past few years and has been sparingly addressed. It gave him Jay Cutler. It took him away and gave him Kyle Orton and Chris Simms.
Wait, that was probably more his and the front office’s doing. His confidence in Cassel back in New England was so much that he tried to bring the quarterback with him via several rumored three-team deals. As it turns out, that wasn’t an appropriate way of making a good first impression on your new team’s franchise quarterback, and Cutler’s trust issues with the team eventually did result in a trade - but not for Cassel. That may have been some bad luck.
Luck’s given him Brandon Marshall, a talented wide-receiver, but one that at times to appear to be cut from the same cloth as Terrell Owens and Chad Ochocinco in terms of diva behavior. And, just like with Cutler a few months before, trust issues have arisen and contract negotiations aren’t going as he and his agent would like them to. Luck may just take Marshall away too.
Perhaps it’s the change in altitude that’s suddenly staining Josh McDaniel’s string of success and good fortune. Maybe the Rocky Mountains are keeping lady luck’s winds from blowing in McDaniels’ direction. Whatever the reason behind the delay of fortunateness, he’d better make some magic happen sooner rather than later.
He’s going to have to turn a bottom-dwelling defense into something presentable.
He’s going to have to make Denver forget about Mike Shanahan and John Elway.
He’s going to have to force fans to pretend they didn’t trade a Pro Bowl quarterback for Kyle Orton.
A busted knee became an opportunity for Josh McDaniels to orchestrate an offense with an inexperienced quarterback, and he succeeded. However, the star he created is burning in Kansas City, Missouri, and he already burned bright enough to impress folks enough to prove he’s likely for real.
McDaniels on the other hand is likely already on a shorter leash due to the mishandling of Cutler, and it’s not going to get any longer until he proves himself in Colorado.
Even the highest eyes in Mile High Stadium will be watching his every move, searching for an instance that’ll make them backtrack and question their team’s thought process in hiring the man.
I wish Josh McDaniels the best of luck. Believe me when I say, he’s going to need a lot of it.
Leave me feedback!
Prince Batman, AWAY!!!
Joshua Aaron Moore
8/19/2009
Starstruck
According to an old horoscope book found by Speedy in his mom's auction contents, my sign (Scorpio) is a compassionate, determined one that oozes with creativity and frequently adorns blue and white clothing. Perhaps, then, my going to the University of Kentucky was predestined. However, if my life truly is the result of some preordained plan of an astrological star sign, then not only can I blame it for my college choice, but also the adoration I possess for a certain Pisces in my life. According to the stars, scorpion + fish = eternal pleasure and happiness for both parties involved. Of course, this is coming from the same set of principles that allow a dwarf planet to rule my astrological sign. Oh, the irony.
So, here I sit in the first UK shirt I remember ever wearing, one I've had for about five years now, and a pair of blue and white ball shorts that I stole from my sister Krystle, who probably stole them from somebody else. An air conditioner blows out cold air to my left, sitting in its path three of my best friends. Speedy, Curtis and Heath.
Speedy's playing the Playstation 3 demo of Batman: Arkham Asylum. Curtis is essentially playing the part of the gay friend to some girl in Ohio. Heath is exhausted, attempting to sleep on the couch that for three weeks served as my bed.
All three of them are indulging themselves in different pleasures, in their own ways subconsciously avoiding the reason we all came together in the first place - this is the final day we'll all be able to spend with each other before college life begins to take us over.
I'm leaving Thursday for Huntington. From there I'll travel to Lexington on Friday.
Curtis will be leaving for Marshall Friday afternoon.
Speedy will be moving into his dorm at Berea next Saturday.
Heath will remain in Martin County, traveling to BSCTS's Prestonburg Campus on Tuesdays and Thursdays and detailing cars each other day of the work week.
Separated. That's not how it was supposed to be, was it?
Heath Wilson and I were supposed to be neighbors forever. We were going to hang out in that lane together into our late teen years until high school was over. That road has heard a lot - everything from tales of heartache to Yu-Gi-Oh victory cries - and it was supposed to hear a whole lot more.
I moved. It didn't. Heath and I remained strong friends regardless. I like to think we'll always be able to remember the times we spent playing with trading cards in the middle of the road, discussing our latest scheme to obtain the girl we'd never obtain in our wildest dreams. If not, at least the pavement will always be stamped with our souls.
Inez kids and Warfield kids weren't supposed to become friends. Curtis Goble wasn't supposed to do anything but trip me in defense of one of his Inez brethren during an altercation our freshman year. Maroon and orange would never go good together.
Through line judging for the girl's volleyball team, academic trips where I'd make him feel uncomfortable by singing cheating songs, and McDonald's conversations that went deeper than any discussion taking place over Big Macs should, Curtis and I persevered and created a bond that eventually culminated in me moving in with him in a time of crisis. Maroon and orange can clash at times, but I've never given a damn about matching anyway.
Chris Anderson was some kid everyone made fun of in middle school. Gay, faggot, retard - a kid subject to every damn demeaning comment that an unimaginative 13-year old can generate in his puberty stricken mind. He wasn't supposed to have friends.
A kid who gave me a rose for being his best friend at our high school baccalaureate three months ago. I'm proud to say tears rushed to my eyes at that moment, right before I got up and hugged one of my best friends.
All kinds of things were supposed to happen, supposed to last forever or supposed to just be true.
My mom and dad were supposed to stay together until death do them part. So were many other of my friend's parents. We all were supposed to live lives where mommy and daddy love each other forever.
Only two of my best friends have parents who have so far remained together all of their life.
I was supposed to grow up and spend the rest of my life with Heather Workman. The foolish teenage heart often disguises inadequacy with beauty and more beauty. Inadequate she was, but my heart was in full throttle for her every foolish second.
She left me because I was born with the wrong set of reproductive organs.
All kinds of things were supposed to happen, supposed to last forever or supposed to just be true.
Mommy, I have no doubt in my mind that you leaving daddy was the best decision of your life. Shawn seems like a great man and has shown me kindness that I rarely experienced from my own father, but more importantly appears to love you like you deserved to be loved. You've done too much for me, Brittany and Krystle, and I'll speak for all of us when I say that we could never be able to return the favor. I love you.
Curtis, Speedy, Heath, Corey, Carrie, Jamie, C.J., Cameron, Byron, Ricky, Gauze - each of you deserve a blog of your own, seriously. The friendship you've shown me over the years is too much of the reason why I am who I am today. Although most of you I've known only for a handful of years, and as cliché as it is, a man has never known better people. It is for each of you that I keep going on, in the hopes that I can somehow make the world a better place for you, as you each have for me. I love every one of you as much as I would a brother or sister.
Separated. That is how it was supposed to be. From the very beginning, it's the only thing that was certain, despite if we wanted to admit it or not.
Each of us will be better for it, too. We'll go away to college, whether it's in Lexington, Prestonsburg or Tokyo, and we'll love every second of it. Any changes we overtake will be only beneficial to our future lives.
The stars are aligning for something magnificent. How do I know?
That's how it was supposed to be.
Prince Batman, AWAY!!!
Joshua Aaron Moore
So, here I sit in the first UK shirt I remember ever wearing, one I've had for about five years now, and a pair of blue and white ball shorts that I stole from my sister Krystle, who probably stole them from somebody else. An air conditioner blows out cold air to my left, sitting in its path three of my best friends. Speedy, Curtis and Heath.
Speedy's playing the Playstation 3 demo of Batman: Arkham Asylum. Curtis is essentially playing the part of the gay friend to some girl in Ohio. Heath is exhausted, attempting to sleep on the couch that for three weeks served as my bed.
All three of them are indulging themselves in different pleasures, in their own ways subconsciously avoiding the reason we all came together in the first place - this is the final day we'll all be able to spend with each other before college life begins to take us over.
I'm leaving Thursday for Huntington. From there I'll travel to Lexington on Friday.
Curtis will be leaving for Marshall Friday afternoon.
Speedy will be moving into his dorm at Berea next Saturday.
Heath will remain in Martin County, traveling to BSCTS's Prestonburg Campus on Tuesdays and Thursdays and detailing cars each other day of the work week.
Separated. That's not how it was supposed to be, was it?
Heath Wilson and I were supposed to be neighbors forever. We were going to hang out in that lane together into our late teen years until high school was over. That road has heard a lot - everything from tales of heartache to Yu-Gi-Oh victory cries - and it was supposed to hear a whole lot more.
I moved. It didn't. Heath and I remained strong friends regardless. I like to think we'll always be able to remember the times we spent playing with trading cards in the middle of the road, discussing our latest scheme to obtain the girl we'd never obtain in our wildest dreams. If not, at least the pavement will always be stamped with our souls.
Inez kids and Warfield kids weren't supposed to become friends. Curtis Goble wasn't supposed to do anything but trip me in defense of one of his Inez brethren during an altercation our freshman year. Maroon and orange would never go good together.
Through line judging for the girl's volleyball team, academic trips where I'd make him feel uncomfortable by singing cheating songs, and McDonald's conversations that went deeper than any discussion taking place over Big Macs should, Curtis and I persevered and created a bond that eventually culminated in me moving in with him in a time of crisis. Maroon and orange can clash at times, but I've never given a damn about matching anyway.
Chris Anderson was some kid everyone made fun of in middle school. Gay, faggot, retard - a kid subject to every damn demeaning comment that an unimaginative 13-year old can generate in his puberty stricken mind. He wasn't supposed to have friends.
A kid who gave me a rose for being his best friend at our high school baccalaureate three months ago. I'm proud to say tears rushed to my eyes at that moment, right before I got up and hugged one of my best friends.
All kinds of things were supposed to happen, supposed to last forever or supposed to just be true.
My mom and dad were supposed to stay together until death do them part. So were many other of my friend's parents. We all were supposed to live lives where mommy and daddy love each other forever.
Only two of my best friends have parents who have so far remained together all of their life.
I was supposed to grow up and spend the rest of my life with Heather Workman. The foolish teenage heart often disguises inadequacy with beauty and more beauty. Inadequate she was, but my heart was in full throttle for her every foolish second.
She left me because I was born with the wrong set of reproductive organs.
All kinds of things were supposed to happen, supposed to last forever or supposed to just be true.
Mommy, I have no doubt in my mind that you leaving daddy was the best decision of your life. Shawn seems like a great man and has shown me kindness that I rarely experienced from my own father, but more importantly appears to love you like you deserved to be loved. You've done too much for me, Brittany and Krystle, and I'll speak for all of us when I say that we could never be able to return the favor. I love you.
Curtis, Speedy, Heath, Corey, Carrie, Jamie, C.J., Cameron, Byron, Ricky, Gauze - each of you deserve a blog of your own, seriously. The friendship you've shown me over the years is too much of the reason why I am who I am today. Although most of you I've known only for a handful of years, and as cliché as it is, a man has never known better people. It is for each of you that I keep going on, in the hopes that I can somehow make the world a better place for you, as you each have for me. I love every one of you as much as I would a brother or sister.
Separated. That is how it was supposed to be. From the very beginning, it's the only thing that was certain, despite if we wanted to admit it or not.
Each of us will be better for it, too. We'll go away to college, whether it's in Lexington, Prestonsburg or Tokyo, and we'll love every second of it. Any changes we overtake will be only beneficial to our future lives.
The stars are aligning for something magnificent. How do I know?
That's how it was supposed to be.
Prince Batman, AWAY!!!
Joshua Aaron Moore
8/16/2009
From Girlfriends to God
When I was younger, I always dreaded it when my family would go camping. I loathed the idea of pitching a tent and "roughing it" for a night or two. I find it remarkable, looking back, that as an 18 year-old one of the fondest memories I'll possess of my final summer before college will be a camping trip.
Curtis Goble, Carrie Jude, Jamie Duty, C.J. Adams, Heath Wilson, Cameron Allen and Byron Meade. Those are the seven people I spent a night with at Yatesville Lake. All together, a combination of folks who very well represent the massive personality differences that can exist amongst an entire group of people who love each other dearly.
The party began at Wal-Mart thirty minutes before any of us laid eyes on the campsite aside from Byron, who went to survey and such earlier in the day and was waiting there for us. We were going to be camping the entire night. Therefore, we were justified in spending nearly 80 bucks on pillows, Mountain Dew, towels, hot dogs and buns, potato chips, marshmallows, chocolate, graham crackers, two bags of ice, a case of Sam's Choice water and mustard. Oh, and Cheez-its. Because if there aren't Cheez-its around, you aren't really camping, are ya?
We checked out, amid discussion between Duty and Cameron about whether the girl at the cash register was a 3 or a 4, both settling on 4 after a while. After paying, we loaded up the cars and set off for the campground.
The half a mile walk to the camp site felt longer each time I walked it, and I believe this feeling was consensual among all of us. Especially C.J., Heath, Byron and I, who around 2:30 AM would have to pack 50 lb stumps because we wanted to keep the fire burning into the post midnight hours out of want of heat and fear of bears. Those stumps may or may not have stolen from various other campsites
After pitching three of the seven tents available to us at the time (Curtis and I informed we were bringing three and that would be plenty. Some others apparently thought not), everyone except Byron jumped into the lake and swam across to the other side, doing a fine job of dodging any hazards that could have been in the water. You know, sharks and snakes and stuff. Legitimate concerns. C.J. found a log for Curtis and I to ride back to the other side on (due to a desire to relive the "It Got Sanked" day), and nobody ever got back in the water for the rest of the trip. Fishing was done in large amount, though, and absolutely none were cooked. *wink*
We played cornhole for a couple of hours. It was the first time I'd ever played while score was actually being kept. It took me a while to understand how it worked, but it made sense after I got a few rounds in. Curtis was my partner, and while we pretty much stunk it up the entire time, each game we played was exciting, all but one coming down to a point or two. What we lacked in skill (which Team Carrie/C.J. and Team Heath/Byron had plenties of) we made up for with competitive spirit and determination. And luck. Lots of it.
A hike was taken on the "haunted trail", which was really just a badly lit trail that didn't get any brighter with night's beginning. There was a "Blair Witch Project" quality about that whole experience, probably due mostly to the fact that Heath was recording parts of the hike and referencing the movie. Torches made out of Mountain Dew cans, a product of Jamie Duty's amazing ingenuity, lit the way (along with some flashlights) and allowed us some morsels of sight. The entire experience, with flaming shirts, flaming hair and flaming curse words abound, will be on YouTube in due time.
It was a little after the hike that we went scavenging for firewood. Myself and the others I alluded to earlier hopped into C.J.'s car and assisted in "gathering" fire wood that had been abandoned by people. We contemplated sneaking into the place where the park managers actually cut and store the wood they sell, but we decided against it once we found three stump-sized pieces of wood, each weighing over 50 pounds. For an out of shape guy who weighs as much as five of those stumps would have weighed, that was enough heavy lifting to do on a half a mile walk. I even took my shirt off for the occasion.
Carrie left for home soon after that, unable to spend the night with us. What followed next were several hours of man talk. I won't go into the details of what was specifically stated by which person, as I am of the belief that after true, pure love between two people, man talk is the most sacred object in existence, and the code of man forbids me to break its trust. I will say that many topics were touched, from the past to the future, from misfortune to opportunity, from girlfriends to God - very few stones were unturned that night. It was spectacular.
After someone heard growling in the woods, or claimed so anyway, man talk was over and it was time to act like men. We set up a perimeter wire using our abundance of Mountain Dew cans and kept the fire going with anything we had left - pillows, towels, potato chip bags - pretty much everything we'd bought earlier. But, what's $80 if it can't be burned to keep your face from being mauled by a hungry bear. Or squirrel.
Our fears settled and we drifted into slumber soon after. We awoke the next morning without much being said. It would be the last time some of us would see each other for a while, possibly forever. Yet, no sad feelings saturated the entire experience. It was just like we were back in A.P. English or A.P. Chemistry, joking around every minute and having a blast. Even when we revealed our introspective sides the night never felt depressing. Tender, perhaps, but never a downer.
Nope, we left with not much exchanged in the form of words but with a lot shared in the form of memory. The 7:30 AM sun shined bright on us that Friday morning as we each set out in our own directions, as everyone watched each other leave one last time.
Each direction was different, and will be for the rest of our lives. However, there's much to be said about a group of friends that can make a guy who used to hate camping long for another night like that. The direction I take has been painted with the memories that the guys I spent that night with and others have helped me make. I hope I have stained their paths just as much.
Prince Batman, AWAY!!!
Joshua Aaron Moore
Quote of the Day
"Laugh as much as you breathe and love as long you live." --- Author Unknown.
Curtis Goble, Carrie Jude, Jamie Duty, C.J. Adams, Heath Wilson, Cameron Allen and Byron Meade. Those are the seven people I spent a night with at Yatesville Lake. All together, a combination of folks who very well represent the massive personality differences that can exist amongst an entire group of people who love each other dearly.
The party began at Wal-Mart thirty minutes before any of us laid eyes on the campsite aside from Byron, who went to survey and such earlier in the day and was waiting there for us. We were going to be camping the entire night. Therefore, we were justified in spending nearly 80 bucks on pillows, Mountain Dew, towels, hot dogs and buns, potato chips, marshmallows, chocolate, graham crackers, two bags of ice, a case of Sam's Choice water and mustard. Oh, and Cheez-its. Because if there aren't Cheez-its around, you aren't really camping, are ya?
We checked out, amid discussion between Duty and Cameron about whether the girl at the cash register was a 3 or a 4, both settling on 4 after a while. After paying, we loaded up the cars and set off for the campground.
The half a mile walk to the camp site felt longer each time I walked it, and I believe this feeling was consensual among all of us. Especially C.J., Heath, Byron and I, who around 2:30 AM would have to pack 50 lb stumps because we wanted to keep the fire burning into the post midnight hours out of want of heat and fear of bears. Those stumps may or may not have stolen from various other campsites
After pitching three of the seven tents available to us at the time (Curtis and I informed we were bringing three and that would be plenty. Some others apparently thought not), everyone except Byron jumped into the lake and swam across to the other side, doing a fine job of dodging any hazards that could have been in the water. You know, sharks and snakes and stuff. Legitimate concerns. C.J. found a log for Curtis and I to ride back to the other side on (due to a desire to relive the "It Got Sanked" day), and nobody ever got back in the water for the rest of the trip. Fishing was done in large amount, though, and absolutely none were cooked. *wink*
We played cornhole for a couple of hours. It was the first time I'd ever played while score was actually being kept. It took me a while to understand how it worked, but it made sense after I got a few rounds in. Curtis was my partner, and while we pretty much stunk it up the entire time, each game we played was exciting, all but one coming down to a point or two. What we lacked in skill (which Team Carrie/C.J. and Team Heath/Byron had plenties of) we made up for with competitive spirit and determination. And luck. Lots of it.
A hike was taken on the "haunted trail", which was really just a badly lit trail that didn't get any brighter with night's beginning. There was a "Blair Witch Project" quality about that whole experience, probably due mostly to the fact that Heath was recording parts of the hike and referencing the movie. Torches made out of Mountain Dew cans, a product of Jamie Duty's amazing ingenuity, lit the way (along with some flashlights) and allowed us some morsels of sight. The entire experience, with flaming shirts, flaming hair and flaming curse words abound, will be on YouTube in due time.
It was a little after the hike that we went scavenging for firewood. Myself and the others I alluded to earlier hopped into C.J.'s car and assisted in "gathering" fire wood that had been abandoned by people. We contemplated sneaking into the place where the park managers actually cut and store the wood they sell, but we decided against it once we found three stump-sized pieces of wood, each weighing over 50 pounds. For an out of shape guy who weighs as much as five of those stumps would have weighed, that was enough heavy lifting to do on a half a mile walk. I even took my shirt off for the occasion.
Carrie left for home soon after that, unable to spend the night with us. What followed next were several hours of man talk. I won't go into the details of what was specifically stated by which person, as I am of the belief that after true, pure love between two people, man talk is the most sacred object in existence, and the code of man forbids me to break its trust. I will say that many topics were touched, from the past to the future, from misfortune to opportunity, from girlfriends to God - very few stones were unturned that night. It was spectacular.
After someone heard growling in the woods, or claimed so anyway, man talk was over and it was time to act like men. We set up a perimeter wire using our abundance of Mountain Dew cans and kept the fire going with anything we had left - pillows, towels, potato chip bags - pretty much everything we'd bought earlier. But, what's $80 if it can't be burned to keep your face from being mauled by a hungry bear. Or squirrel.
Our fears settled and we drifted into slumber soon after. We awoke the next morning without much being said. It would be the last time some of us would see each other for a while, possibly forever. Yet, no sad feelings saturated the entire experience. It was just like we were back in A.P. English or A.P. Chemistry, joking around every minute and having a blast. Even when we revealed our introspective sides the night never felt depressing. Tender, perhaps, but never a downer.
Nope, we left with not much exchanged in the form of words but with a lot shared in the form of memory. The 7:30 AM sun shined bright on us that Friday morning as we each set out in our own directions, as everyone watched each other leave one last time.
Each direction was different, and will be for the rest of our lives. However, there's much to be said about a group of friends that can make a guy who used to hate camping long for another night like that. The direction I take has been painted with the memories that the guys I spent that night with and others have helped me make. I hope I have stained their paths just as much.
Prince Batman, AWAY!!!
Joshua Aaron Moore
Quote of the Day
"Laugh as much as you breathe and love as long you live." --- Author Unknown.
8/13/2009
An Epic Conversation
Read the photo from the bottom up:
An excerpt from the epic conversation.
An epic conversation took place today. The kind of conversation that you'll look back on 10 years from now and wander why the hell it occurred, yet laugh the entire time you're recalling it.
An epic conversation took place today. The kind of conversation that generated tons of laughter, morsels of horror and at least 20 genuine "WTF"s.
An epic conversation took place today. The kind of conversation that makes you wonder if your MySpace account was frozen after it took place.
An epic conversartion took place today. The kind of conversation that resulted in a sexual heavy story involving a friend of yours and his ex-girlfriend being leaked to the majority of his friend's list.
An epic conversation took place today. The kind of conversation that involved direct communication with a guy sitting next to you, a lesbian from Debord, a guy getting his wisdom teeth getting cut out the next morning, someone you once watched horde grapes into his mouth until his cheeks turned blood red, some chick you've never heard of, and a chain-smoking, beer guzzlin' cat from Magoffin County living with the grape-kid.
An epic conversartion took place today. The kind of conversation that is going to piss off hordes of folks who received the messages "indirectly".
An epic conversation took place today. The kind of conversation you're always going to remember, even if some parts of it are probably best forgotten.
Prince Batman, AWAY!!!
Joshua Aaron Moore
Quote of the Day
"dude, mass reply to all was the greatest thing ever invented by myspace.
FUCK YEAH TOM, LEMME TALK TO ALL MY FRIENDS AT ONCE.
THIS IS LIKE SHITTING WHILE ON FIRE!!!
CRUISE CONTROL FOR COOLS.
btw, some dead guy is trying to sell me oxi clean on tv.
TRIPPIN' BALLS." --- Cameron Allen
P.S. Here's one more piece of the epic conversation (again read from the bottom up)!
An excerpt from the epic conversation.
An epic conversation took place today. The kind of conversation that you'll look back on 10 years from now and wander why the hell it occurred, yet laugh the entire time you're recalling it.
An epic conversation took place today. The kind of conversation that generated tons of laughter, morsels of horror and at least 20 genuine "WTF"s.
An epic conversation took place today. The kind of conversation that makes you wonder if your MySpace account was frozen after it took place.
An epic conversartion took place today. The kind of conversation that resulted in a sexual heavy story involving a friend of yours and his ex-girlfriend being leaked to the majority of his friend's list.
An epic conversation took place today. The kind of conversation that involved direct communication with a guy sitting next to you, a lesbian from Debord, a guy getting his wisdom teeth getting cut out the next morning, someone you once watched horde grapes into his mouth until his cheeks turned blood red, some chick you've never heard of, and a chain-smoking, beer guzzlin' cat from Magoffin County living with the grape-kid.
An epic conversartion took place today. The kind of conversation that is going to piss off hordes of folks who received the messages "indirectly".
An epic conversation took place today. The kind of conversation you're always going to remember, even if some parts of it are probably best forgotten.
Prince Batman, AWAY!!!
Joshua Aaron Moore
Quote of the Day
"dude, mass reply to all was the greatest thing ever invented by myspace.
FUCK YEAH TOM, LEMME TALK TO ALL MY FRIENDS AT ONCE.
THIS IS LIKE SHITTING WHILE ON FIRE!!!
CRUISE CONTROL FOR COOLS.
btw, some dead guy is trying to sell me oxi clean on tv.
TRIPPIN' BALLS." --- Cameron Allen
P.S. Here's one more piece of the epic conversation (again read from the bottom up)!
8/10/2009
Thursday, Part 3
Out of the truck stepped out the woman who had been in my bed, Stephanie (last name unknown) and my dad, who wasn’t going to let us leave until he checked something. I already knew what he was seeking: whether or not the safe that had been “hidden” underneath some clothes in my room was still in its same position. I knew it wasn’t. Krystle had gone and retrieved it right before they left. However, I wasn’t sure if it was in the storage unit or had gone home with my mom to Huntington.
Of course, he didn’t find it, nor did he find a “voice recorder”, which he claimed he had hidden on top of one of the kitchen shelves in order to record everything that happened in the house in case he ever needed to use it in court (stuff like me and Brittany arguing, he and I arguing, etc). Nobody aside from him had heard of this mystery machine.
“Oh yes. I took something I’ve never seen or heard of in my life. I must be a pretty damn crafty thief to pull off something like that,” I joked.
He disregarded the voice recorder disappearance and mainly focused on the safe’s absence. He refused to let us go until the safe was back at the house. I told him I didn’t know where it was, which was an entirely honest statement because I didn’t know exactly where it ended up. Therefore, Curtis, Devin, Speedy and myself effectively became hostages in my own home. A home that at one time or another each one of them has been as much a part of as I have. Talk about insanity. Heath left to get back to his house due to a curfew set by his parents minutes before my dad arrived, or he too would have became a POM – Prisoner of Moore.
With little room for error if we were to squeeze between the fence and the truck’s parked position, and no chance of my dad letting us go due to his stubbornness, we all did what we were best at doing:
Devin: He mainly just stood around and observed the whole situation, taking it all in as it came without much said. He was pretty calm about the whole ordeal, which I was happy about.
Curtis: He made a phone call to his mom but quickly got cut off due to the terrible cell phone reception at my house. I called her back and aimed to calm her, as she was worried about my dad having a gun, which to my knowledge, he didn’t. I instructed her to call the county police. Curtis then proceeded to call his uncle Chris, whom he eventually called off when the police arrived.
Speedy: He sat out in the car for a while and joined the group later on after things calmed down a bit, but obviously stressed to the max. Later her would claim his nerves couldn’t handle the gravity of the situation. I felt bad for putting him through it, but he stayed strong enough to get by.
Myself: Between talking to Curtis’s mom and phoning my own (informing her of the situation and asking her where the safe exactly was – it was at the storage unit), I also got into a heated argument with that Stephanie chick. The best part was when I first started speaking to her:
- “What’s your name?” I asked when she went inside the house as I stood with my face pressed against the screen of the living room window.
“Stephanie,” she said.
“FUCK YOU!” I shouted. Take my word, it made so much sense at the time to say, given the circumstances. It really, really did.
“What? Oh my god, I can’t believe you’d talk to me like that. I wish your mommy were here. She loves me and wouldn’t believe you’re talking to me that way.”
“Yea, I wish she was too so she’d see what kind of skanks are running around here. She hates you, so don’t even try to talk bullshit like that.”
“Ah hell, I’d whip your mom’s ass. I ain’t like that bitch Rhonda. I ain’t afraid to punch her in the face.”
After this point, the remainder of the conversation escapes my memory. Most likely due to the fact that it took an obscure turn most likely wrought by some bad stuff in her system. That, or she’s a true idiot. I’m not sure which a person should prefer.
Another fun exchange that I can’t recall word for word involved her trying to defend herself as a non-drug user by saying she had kids to take care of. I countered by saying something along the lines of “Well, if you care about your kids, why the fuck was you in my bed this morning? Shouldn’t you have been home with them?” Her mouth trudged past her mind and went into details such as “I have been with them all day and I came with your dad so he’d have someone to go to the hospital with him!”
I realized arguing with her was a cause better suited for a monkey than a man, so I pretty much just paced around the house waiting for the police to arrive, ignoring her the remainder of the night. During that time, my dad called the KY State police and filed a theft report. They never showed. I knew they wouldn’t. I have a decent idea of how the law works, and my suspicions about whether or not the safe had been “stolen” were proved correct later when Evan Norris showed up to save the day.
I want it to be known that through all of my experiences with policeman, and there have been several (anywhere from when the time I wrecked to the time my dad was burning all his clothes in front of the house), never have I felt like so much was accomplished, as was the case with this visit. As far as I’m concerned, Evan Norris is the most respectable man in uniform in all of Martin County. If every cop were as admirable as he appeared that night, the world would be a much grander place.
Essentially, it went down like this. He told my dad that since they are married still (he and my mom), anything his is half hers, so she couldn’t have technically stolen the safe (this is what I myself believed, as I alluded to earlier). He asked me about the whole situation and why what was going on was going on, and I informed him of the entire day’s events. He reiterated to me what he’d told my dad, and assured me that we’d be able to leave soon, confirming that I was 18 and actually able to leave without my dad’s consent.
My favorite part of the entire evening was when it was brought to everyone’s attention via Evan that Stephanie had more than the legal amount of Xanax in her system, as he could tell by her eyes (I told ya I could tell, didn’t I)! He administered a drug test to her, which surprised all of us when she passed, and instructed her to remain at home due to her appearance. Finally, he forced my dad to move his vehicle so we could leave the scene.
I went and got the safe out of the storage unit and brought it back to him, mainly for good karma. I figure I could do something somewhat nice for the man since after that I was prepared to never see him again, at least for a while anyway. Curtis and I parked at the very end of the driveway and walked the safe to him, then retreated.
“There better not be anything missing.”
At this hour (2:53 AM EST), approximately one week and 4 days since that night occurred, that is still the last full sentence I’ve heard my dad utter. He mumbled some stuff as Curtis and I hurried back to my Jeep, but nothing clearly audible.
I fell asleep that morning on the couch in one of his living room’s that has since become my permanent bed for the summer’s remainder, not reconsidering once my decision to move out on a whim, but only of the extreme kindness that I have been given. There are people without a single worthwhile friend. I have countless people to rely on, as illustrated by all the help I was granted without any questions raised.
Devin could have easily demanded to be taken home – but he didn’t. Speedy could have worried himself to death and eventually cracked and have a nervous breakdown – but he didn’t. Heath tried his hardest to stay longer, even lying to his parents in order to remain, but his efforts were well appreciated. Curtis even tried to call someone to come kick my dad’s ass – those are what real friends are, to those of you who have none. If you can find just one person like any of these guys, you’re bound to do fine in life. I’m too lucky.
I’d also like to take this opportunity to restate how appreciative I am to the Goble family for taking me in during the last month of summer. Curtis obviously doesn’t mind, but I know it makes things at least slightly more difficult on Carla, Danesha, Machelle and Gamble having me around the house. The girls are like sisters to me and Gamble like another mother (among the many I can claim – you can never have too many, though). They too, are too kind.
Devin was right – this certainly made one hell of a blog entry. But, it was something much more special. What started as a trip to buy comics and Yu-Gi-Oh! Cards turned into something much more eventful. I’m thankful for every morsel of it, however. After all, I made an unforgettable memory with some of my greatest friends during the final summer that we would all spend together before we ventured off to college. We turned what appears on the surface to be a tragic experience into something twenty years from now we’ll be telling our kids about and laughing with each recollection.
That’s what life is all about, folks – being with the people you care about and making memories that will last a lifetime. Making them is always the best part, but if they’re looked back on as they should be, as experiences that made you better for having them, then it’s nearly just as sweet.
Prince Batman, AWAY!!!
Joshua Aaron Moore
Quote of the Day
"Truly great friends are hard to find, difficult to leave, and impossible to forget." --- G. Randolf
Of course, he didn’t find it, nor did he find a “voice recorder”, which he claimed he had hidden on top of one of the kitchen shelves in order to record everything that happened in the house in case he ever needed to use it in court (stuff like me and Brittany arguing, he and I arguing, etc). Nobody aside from him had heard of this mystery machine.
“Oh yes. I took something I’ve never seen or heard of in my life. I must be a pretty damn crafty thief to pull off something like that,” I joked.
He disregarded the voice recorder disappearance and mainly focused on the safe’s absence. He refused to let us go until the safe was back at the house. I told him I didn’t know where it was, which was an entirely honest statement because I didn’t know exactly where it ended up. Therefore, Curtis, Devin, Speedy and myself effectively became hostages in my own home. A home that at one time or another each one of them has been as much a part of as I have. Talk about insanity. Heath left to get back to his house due to a curfew set by his parents minutes before my dad arrived, or he too would have became a POM – Prisoner of Moore.
With little room for error if we were to squeeze between the fence and the truck’s parked position, and no chance of my dad letting us go due to his stubbornness, we all did what we were best at doing:
Devin: He mainly just stood around and observed the whole situation, taking it all in as it came without much said. He was pretty calm about the whole ordeal, which I was happy about.
Curtis: He made a phone call to his mom but quickly got cut off due to the terrible cell phone reception at my house. I called her back and aimed to calm her, as she was worried about my dad having a gun, which to my knowledge, he didn’t. I instructed her to call the county police. Curtis then proceeded to call his uncle Chris, whom he eventually called off when the police arrived.
Speedy: He sat out in the car for a while and joined the group later on after things calmed down a bit, but obviously stressed to the max. Later her would claim his nerves couldn’t handle the gravity of the situation. I felt bad for putting him through it, but he stayed strong enough to get by.
Myself: Between talking to Curtis’s mom and phoning my own (informing her of the situation and asking her where the safe exactly was – it was at the storage unit), I also got into a heated argument with that Stephanie chick. The best part was when I first started speaking to her:
- “What’s your name?” I asked when she went inside the house as I stood with my face pressed against the screen of the living room window.
“Stephanie,” she said.
“FUCK YOU!” I shouted. Take my word, it made so much sense at the time to say, given the circumstances. It really, really did.
“What? Oh my god, I can’t believe you’d talk to me like that. I wish your mommy were here. She loves me and wouldn’t believe you’re talking to me that way.”
“Yea, I wish she was too so she’d see what kind of skanks are running around here. She hates you, so don’t even try to talk bullshit like that.”
“Ah hell, I’d whip your mom’s ass. I ain’t like that bitch Rhonda. I ain’t afraid to punch her in the face.”
After this point, the remainder of the conversation escapes my memory. Most likely due to the fact that it took an obscure turn most likely wrought by some bad stuff in her system. That, or she’s a true idiot. I’m not sure which a person should prefer.
Another fun exchange that I can’t recall word for word involved her trying to defend herself as a non-drug user by saying she had kids to take care of. I countered by saying something along the lines of “Well, if you care about your kids, why the fuck was you in my bed this morning? Shouldn’t you have been home with them?” Her mouth trudged past her mind and went into details such as “I have been with them all day and I came with your dad so he’d have someone to go to the hospital with him!”
I realized arguing with her was a cause better suited for a monkey than a man, so I pretty much just paced around the house waiting for the police to arrive, ignoring her the remainder of the night. During that time, my dad called the KY State police and filed a theft report. They never showed. I knew they wouldn’t. I have a decent idea of how the law works, and my suspicions about whether or not the safe had been “stolen” were proved correct later when Evan Norris showed up to save the day.
I want it to be known that through all of my experiences with policeman, and there have been several (anywhere from when the time I wrecked to the time my dad was burning all his clothes in front of the house), never have I felt like so much was accomplished, as was the case with this visit. As far as I’m concerned, Evan Norris is the most respectable man in uniform in all of Martin County. If every cop were as admirable as he appeared that night, the world would be a much grander place.
Essentially, it went down like this. He told my dad that since they are married still (he and my mom), anything his is half hers, so she couldn’t have technically stolen the safe (this is what I myself believed, as I alluded to earlier). He asked me about the whole situation and why what was going on was going on, and I informed him of the entire day’s events. He reiterated to me what he’d told my dad, and assured me that we’d be able to leave soon, confirming that I was 18 and actually able to leave without my dad’s consent.
My favorite part of the entire evening was when it was brought to everyone’s attention via Evan that Stephanie had more than the legal amount of Xanax in her system, as he could tell by her eyes (I told ya I could tell, didn’t I)! He administered a drug test to her, which surprised all of us when she passed, and instructed her to remain at home due to her appearance. Finally, he forced my dad to move his vehicle so we could leave the scene.
I went and got the safe out of the storage unit and brought it back to him, mainly for good karma. I figure I could do something somewhat nice for the man since after that I was prepared to never see him again, at least for a while anyway. Curtis and I parked at the very end of the driveway and walked the safe to him, then retreated.
“There better not be anything missing.”
At this hour (2:53 AM EST), approximately one week and 4 days since that night occurred, that is still the last full sentence I’ve heard my dad utter. He mumbled some stuff as Curtis and I hurried back to my Jeep, but nothing clearly audible.
I fell asleep that morning on the couch in one of his living room’s that has since become my permanent bed for the summer’s remainder, not reconsidering once my decision to move out on a whim, but only of the extreme kindness that I have been given. There are people without a single worthwhile friend. I have countless people to rely on, as illustrated by all the help I was granted without any questions raised.
Devin could have easily demanded to be taken home – but he didn’t. Speedy could have worried himself to death and eventually cracked and have a nervous breakdown – but he didn’t. Heath tried his hardest to stay longer, even lying to his parents in order to remain, but his efforts were well appreciated. Curtis even tried to call someone to come kick my dad’s ass – those are what real friends are, to those of you who have none. If you can find just one person like any of these guys, you’re bound to do fine in life. I’m too lucky.
I’d also like to take this opportunity to restate how appreciative I am to the Goble family for taking me in during the last month of summer. Curtis obviously doesn’t mind, but I know it makes things at least slightly more difficult on Carla, Danesha, Machelle and Gamble having me around the house. The girls are like sisters to me and Gamble like another mother (among the many I can claim – you can never have too many, though). They too, are too kind.
Devin was right – this certainly made one hell of a blog entry. But, it was something much more special. What started as a trip to buy comics and Yu-Gi-Oh! Cards turned into something much more eventful. I’m thankful for every morsel of it, however. After all, I made an unforgettable memory with some of my greatest friends during the final summer that we would all spend together before we ventured off to college. We turned what appears on the surface to be a tragic experience into something twenty years from now we’ll be telling our kids about and laughing with each recollection.
That’s what life is all about, folks – being with the people you care about and making memories that will last a lifetime. Making them is always the best part, but if they’re looked back on as they should be, as experiences that made you better for having them, then it’s nearly just as sweet.
Prince Batman, AWAY!!!
Joshua Aaron Moore
Quote of the Day
"Truly great friends are hard to find, difficult to leave, and impossible to forget." --- G. Randolf
8/09/2009
Thursday, Part 2
We arrived at Page 3 a smidge after 1 PM, which is when Scott, one of the employees, told us he’d be coming on that day the last time we were at the store. He’d made an arrangement with Heath to sell him one of his Mirror Force cards (see below) for $40 since the store didn’t have any singles of their own in stock. $40 for one card is quite expensive, but it was still better than the Internet asking price (anywhere from $45-$50) and it was cheaper than buying tons of Metal Raiders packs (the largest set in Yu-Gi-Oh! that exists) and hoping luck would cast a big smile on you. Heath was unable to come with us that day, so he’d given Curtis the money. We made the purchase outside (as I imagine it’s illegal to do in-store). In addition to the Mirror Force, I bought a Dark Armed Dragon (affectionately referred to as DAD among Yu-Gi-Oh! buffs) for $20 – the most I have ever or will ever spend on one single card, I assure you. After the money and cards exchanged hand, we quickly stashed the $60 pieces of cardboard and holo-foil into my Jeep, and returned to the store.
I ended up getting about $28 in store credit out of the 7-8 movies I traded in and a handful of crap cards, which was not bad at all, especially when coupled with the fact that due to a store error I still had $15 remaining from the last time I visited the store. $43 in imaginary money is loads of awesome!
I bought about $5 worth of common Yu-Gi-Oh! Cards (50 different cards, essentially) and all the issues of the Blackest Night comic story arc that is occurring in the DC Universe that I cared about reading; Blackest Night #1, Green Lantern #43, Green Lantern #44, Tales of the Corps: Blackest Night #1, #2 and #3. It was a good day for nerdness, I assure you.
The others finished their purchases and we left in search of food. Our restaurant of choice – Burger King, always. There has only been three times that I’ve went out of the county with friends that I can remember not eating Burger King while we were gone, and all three were with Corey Howell. Together once, we found out Sonic really sucks.
We headed home soon after eating. When we arrived at my place, the only difference in scenery was that the woman downstairs had woken up and was walking around the house and the woman in my bed had disappeared and my dad had taken her spot. The woman who was up and about is Amanda Mills, someone who’s been semi-living with my dad and I for 2-3 weeks. Huge pill whore, no doubt about it – the eyes say it all.
I believe it was Curtis who called Heath and told him to come over to my house cause we were going to hang out. I suppose Heath’s definition of “hanging out” didn’t include coming up to my room, which looked like an F5 tornado had touched down dead center, and watching my dad snore obscenely in my bed in nothing but his tighty-whiteys. Regardless, he stayed and together we packed.
There was an odd feeling attached to the whole experience of me packing up my belongings. On one hand, I knew it was something I would have to do within the next month due to my moving to Lexington. There’s no way I would have left anything valuable in my room, whether it be monetarily valuable or just worthy as a memory. Either way, it would have ended up pawned for drugs, I believe.
I suppose the circumstances are what painted the whole afternoon and evening with a feeling of displacement. I already knew that Curtis’s mom wouldn’t mind a bit for me moving in with them for the remaining month of summer, so it wasn’t like I didn’t have a place to go. And even if they had minded, there were all kinds of people I know who would have gladly taken me in – and that’s not even counting my mom (I really didn’t want to spend my last month before college in Huntington without my pals, or I would have gladly moved there)!
No, it all felt strange because you just don’t wake up thinking “I bet I’m going to come home and have to move out because it appears your dad cares more about his drugged up fuck buddies than he does you”. Now, if they were nice, pretty or in any form or fashion attractive in any sort of human way, maybe I would have understood. Maybe.
I called my mom and warned her about the situation, telling her she might want to come and get some of her things. My dad left with Amanda soon after that, and we packed in peace for about an hour or so.
We got the call from ARH around 8:45 that an Amanda Mills had been checked in and had a concussion from a car wreck and they were seeking my dad for an insurance statement, or something along those lines. I told them I wasn’t my dad and left it at that, but was extremely curious about what had unfolded after my dad left. My mom showed up while this phone call took place.
Everything played out surprsingly well over the next two hours. My friends acquainted themselves with my sister’s new boyfriend, Mikey (Sturgill, I believe) from Tolsia, who we all unanimously agree is better than her previous guy. I reminisced continuously in addition to catching up with my mom and sisters a tad as I packed item after item…
- My NBA action figures – specifically, my Dwayne Wade, Ben Wallace (Chicago Jersey) and Allen Iverson (Denver Jersey) figures – which are linked to a day where Corey, Curtis and I ended up in Paintsville, Prestonsburg, Pikeville and Williamson all in one day, and we almost died at least twice, once due to an “imaginary” red car popping up out of nowhere. Yes, imaginary.
- A fair amount of soda and juice bottles and cans. Call me crazy, but I consider nearly anything a keepsake, and those were no exception. I have numerous Jones Soda bottles, which I kept either for the memories associated with them, or for the funny artwork, or both. I’ve got the last can of Venom (an energy drink) I will ever drink, which I recall buying once on a “let’s try this crap” binge with Curtis. It’s terrible stuff. Also among the collection was the last liter of Mountain Dew: Pitch Black II I’ll ever get to drink – I loved it, but it wasn’t popular enough to stay around, unfortunately.
- My computer. This machine’s been through a lot – from viruses to soda spills, it’s been there with me for the past six or so years. I know people who’ve gone through three or four computers in the same time period – not I! And with a dial-up connection for most of it! Ah, 56k – there’s something I won’t miss.
Those are just some of the memories that went into boxes that day. Each and every item had some significance behind it. A person’s possessions say a lot about them, even if you don’t know what it is, whether it is something big or something small. Sometimes it’s even a secret, but I have no doubt that it always matters.
My mom departed and soon we would. We’d just finished our next to last load of stuff (all of which we were taking to the storage unit we rent), and were packing up our last load for the night. The moment Curtis’s car and my Jeep were stocked as full as they could be ( I had my Nintendo 64 in the front seat, barely keeping steady thanks to the computer being placed underneath it), around 11:30, we were set to take off. Then, a white tool truck backed into the driveway, obstructing our exit path.
The day could already be described as insane. It was about to go to a whole new level.
Prince Batman, AWAY!!!
Joshua Aaron Moore
Quote of the Day
"Sometimes it's the smallest decisions that can change your life forever." --- Keri Russell
Thursday, Part 1
July 30th, 2009
I said I love you and goodbye to my mom, who’d traveled from Huntington to bring me back to Curtis’s house where I’d left my rust gold-colored Jeep Grand Cherokee. Looking back, I scoffed at the idea of driving the thing when it originally came into my possession (a term I use very loosely, for reasons you’ll be exposed to later), but have since come to love this 10-year-old result of automobile manufacturing.
In just eight months, so many memories were accumulated that related to that Jeep in some form or fashion. In no particular order, those memories include and are not limited to:
- My first time driving to my mamaw’s house. It was Christmas and it was just my dad and I. That was the first time I’d ever been to her house without my mom or my sisters. Later that same day I would drive to Mary Ann Fletcher’s grandparents house to have dinner with her family. The Lakers defeated Boston that day. We took all kinds of pictures that day. That was the first time I ever met most of her family. And, for better or worse, it is likely the last good time together I’ll ever spend with her or them, as well.
- My last kiss from Heather Workman – tear-filled and full of bitter-sweetness.
Unfortunately, it was just as I imagined our final kiss would be. Except for the frog ring.
- My first prom night. Also, my first day where nearly 6 hours were spent
washing an orange diesel guzzling Peterbilt so you could arrive with the best date you could ever have in the best ride you could ever imagine.
- My first time being pulled over by a cop. I swear, I was in no way intoxicated or under the influence. How was I to know my dad had removed the license plate from the back of the vehicle?
- My first time (of several, subsequently) driving around with an animal in the vehicle. I don’t know where you are now, Snaps, but I hope there’s a cat there to chase.
- My first use of four-wheel drive during what turned out to be an unnecessary trip through the mountains this past Fourth of July as Brittany and I sought the grounds where my dad and his family were cooking out up Longbranch.
- The first time I nearly sideswiped a friend as we were both on the highway racing to a place to have a water balloon fight. On a related note, also the first day I had a water balloon thrown at me from a moving vehicle, Cameron.
- Also, the first (and so far last) day I demanded Carrie Jude to crawl over seats to the back of the Jeep and supply me with unopened cans of Mountain Dew to throw at Jamie Duty’s car.
- Opening my first pack of Yu-Gi-Oh! Gold Series 2 to reveal both a Gold Sarcophagus AND Mind Control as two of my three Gold Rares (to those of the non-card gaming community, if Dark Armed Dragon or Solemn Judgment had been in the pack instead of Elemental Hero Captain Gold, this would have been the best pack possible)!
And, as I unlocked my Jeep and laid down in the driver’s seat to sleep for a couple of hours (I wanted to avoid waking anyone at Curtis’s house up) until 10:30 when Curtis and I would leave for Pikeville along with some other friends, I had no clue it would be linked to one final memory – one that, is awkward, strange and at times horrifying as it can be, appears to be the most fitting close to what has been an eventful year before I entered college.
*********
There are plenty of nominees in contention for “Worst Roads in Martin County”, but nobody can convince me that Wolf Creek isn’t up there for the title. They’ve got some shitty pavement going on up there – trust me. Alas, I had to retrieve Devin Blamer. I invited him to go with us to Page 3, and I wasn’t going to back out of getting him. Curtis was picking up Speedy, who we called that morning before we left to tell him happy 18th birthday, and found out his mom was allowing him to go with us. We were going to meet at my place, hop in the Jeep and take off.
After traversing Evans Hill in order to shortcut to my house, we met up with Curtis and Speedy and were about to take off. First, however, I had to go into my home and collect some movies my mom said I could trade in at Page 3 for store credit. I found them, and more so.
My dad’s truck was parked in the driveway, yet when I got inside I saw no sight of him in his usual mainstays:
1.) Passed out on the couch.
2.) Passed out on one of the two mattresses in my sister Krystle’s old room (before she moved out).
3.) Passed out on the kitchen floor with a half-eaten bologna sandwich in one of his hands.
(Okay, that last one has never happened fully – I have found my dad passed out in the kitchen before, unfortunately.)
Although he wasn’t there, I did find a woman in his bed. I chuckled a bit at the sight of what I assumed to be a pill whore, given the emotionless look in her face, full of craterous misery, and headed upstairs, where I partially expected to find the worst of whatever happened last night at the house of Moore.
I found it. My dad, lying in just his white briefs, barely contained underneath a cover. In my bed, another woman, presumably another pill whore, but I couldn’t tell, as all I could see were her feet. I quickly burst out in anger, waking my dad but not interrupting the woman’s sleep at all, further justifying my opinion about her.
“I like how you respect my stuff!”
“You told me you were going to be back Wednesday night!”
“Yea, before I left I said I’d be back Wednesday night at the latest…and it’s Thursday morning now!”
That’s how the argument started out. That alone should give you indication of how stupid it really was. At some point, he ended up saying that I should get all of my shit out of there because he wanted that room. That was fine by me, and I said that I’d start moving out as soon as we got back from Pikeville. He mumbled lots of other things, but I didn’t even care to listen anymore. I found the movies my mom was talking about and bolted out the door with my pals.
We got in the Jeep and on our way to Pikeville spoke about how much disrespect had been shown for me through my dad’s actions. Well, the observers of the situation spoke about it and I just agreed as I drove on, laughing everything off, for the most part.
In fact, the only point the whole day that I was near tears, was when I picked up the sealed Wonder Woman Season One boxed set my mom instructed me to take because she had another copy. I stared at it for a moment, fought back some tears wrought by the anger and the situation, and calmed down.
I did not expect to come home and find my dad had partially destroyed my room and what I was sure was a wretch of a woman in my bed. In fact, I was even surprised to a degree, which is probably my fault. How dare I give my dad so much benefit of the doubt? Insane!
The rest of the day went smoothly – well, except for the crappy Metal Raiders pulls, the wreck, the hostage situation and the cops.
But, that’s for part two =]
Prince Batman, AWAY!!!
Joshua Aaron Moore
Quote of the Day
"The distance between insanity and genius is measured only by success." --- Bruce Feirstein
I said I love you and goodbye to my mom, who’d traveled from Huntington to bring me back to Curtis’s house where I’d left my rust gold-colored Jeep Grand Cherokee. Looking back, I scoffed at the idea of driving the thing when it originally came into my possession (a term I use very loosely, for reasons you’ll be exposed to later), but have since come to love this 10-year-old result of automobile manufacturing.
In just eight months, so many memories were accumulated that related to that Jeep in some form or fashion. In no particular order, those memories include and are not limited to:
- My first time driving to my mamaw’s house. It was Christmas and it was just my dad and I. That was the first time I’d ever been to her house without my mom or my sisters. Later that same day I would drive to Mary Ann Fletcher’s grandparents house to have dinner with her family. The Lakers defeated Boston that day. We took all kinds of pictures that day. That was the first time I ever met most of her family. And, for better or worse, it is likely the last good time together I’ll ever spend with her or them, as well.
- My last kiss from Heather Workman – tear-filled and full of bitter-sweetness.
Unfortunately, it was just as I imagined our final kiss would be. Except for the frog ring.
- My first prom night. Also, my first day where nearly 6 hours were spent
washing an orange diesel guzzling Peterbilt so you could arrive with the best date you could ever have in the best ride you could ever imagine.
- My first time being pulled over by a cop. I swear, I was in no way intoxicated or under the influence. How was I to know my dad had removed the license plate from the back of the vehicle?
- My first time (of several, subsequently) driving around with an animal in the vehicle. I don’t know where you are now, Snaps, but I hope there’s a cat there to chase.
- My first use of four-wheel drive during what turned out to be an unnecessary trip through the mountains this past Fourth of July as Brittany and I sought the grounds where my dad and his family were cooking out up Longbranch.
- The first time I nearly sideswiped a friend as we were both on the highway racing to a place to have a water balloon fight. On a related note, also the first day I had a water balloon thrown at me from a moving vehicle, Cameron.
- Also, the first (and so far last) day I demanded Carrie Jude to crawl over seats to the back of the Jeep and supply me with unopened cans of Mountain Dew to throw at Jamie Duty’s car.
- Opening my first pack of Yu-Gi-Oh! Gold Series 2 to reveal both a Gold Sarcophagus AND Mind Control as two of my three Gold Rares (to those of the non-card gaming community, if Dark Armed Dragon or Solemn Judgment had been in the pack instead of Elemental Hero Captain Gold, this would have been the best pack possible)!
And, as I unlocked my Jeep and laid down in the driver’s seat to sleep for a couple of hours (I wanted to avoid waking anyone at Curtis’s house up) until 10:30 when Curtis and I would leave for Pikeville along with some other friends, I had no clue it would be linked to one final memory – one that, is awkward, strange and at times horrifying as it can be, appears to be the most fitting close to what has been an eventful year before I entered college.
*********
There are plenty of nominees in contention for “Worst Roads in Martin County”, but nobody can convince me that Wolf Creek isn’t up there for the title. They’ve got some shitty pavement going on up there – trust me. Alas, I had to retrieve Devin Blamer. I invited him to go with us to Page 3, and I wasn’t going to back out of getting him. Curtis was picking up Speedy, who we called that morning before we left to tell him happy 18th birthday, and found out his mom was allowing him to go with us. We were going to meet at my place, hop in the Jeep and take off.
After traversing Evans Hill in order to shortcut to my house, we met up with Curtis and Speedy and were about to take off. First, however, I had to go into my home and collect some movies my mom said I could trade in at Page 3 for store credit. I found them, and more so.
My dad’s truck was parked in the driveway, yet when I got inside I saw no sight of him in his usual mainstays:
1.) Passed out on the couch.
2.) Passed out on one of the two mattresses in my sister Krystle’s old room (before she moved out).
3.) Passed out on the kitchen floor with a half-eaten bologna sandwich in one of his hands.
(Okay, that last one has never happened fully – I have found my dad passed out in the kitchen before, unfortunately.)
Although he wasn’t there, I did find a woman in his bed. I chuckled a bit at the sight of what I assumed to be a pill whore, given the emotionless look in her face, full of craterous misery, and headed upstairs, where I partially expected to find the worst of whatever happened last night at the house of Moore.
I found it. My dad, lying in just his white briefs, barely contained underneath a cover. In my bed, another woman, presumably another pill whore, but I couldn’t tell, as all I could see were her feet. I quickly burst out in anger, waking my dad but not interrupting the woman’s sleep at all, further justifying my opinion about her.
“I like how you respect my stuff!”
“You told me you were going to be back Wednesday night!”
“Yea, before I left I said I’d be back Wednesday night at the latest…and it’s Thursday morning now!”
That’s how the argument started out. That alone should give you indication of how stupid it really was. At some point, he ended up saying that I should get all of my shit out of there because he wanted that room. That was fine by me, and I said that I’d start moving out as soon as we got back from Pikeville. He mumbled lots of other things, but I didn’t even care to listen anymore. I found the movies my mom was talking about and bolted out the door with my pals.
We got in the Jeep and on our way to Pikeville spoke about how much disrespect had been shown for me through my dad’s actions. Well, the observers of the situation spoke about it and I just agreed as I drove on, laughing everything off, for the most part.
In fact, the only point the whole day that I was near tears, was when I picked up the sealed Wonder Woman Season One boxed set my mom instructed me to take because she had another copy. I stared at it for a moment, fought back some tears wrought by the anger and the situation, and calmed down.
I did not expect to come home and find my dad had partially destroyed my room and what I was sure was a wretch of a woman in my bed. In fact, I was even surprised to a degree, which is probably my fault. How dare I give my dad so much benefit of the doubt? Insane!
The rest of the day went smoothly – well, except for the crappy Metal Raiders pulls, the wreck, the hostage situation and the cops.
But, that’s for part two =]
Prince Batman, AWAY!!!
Joshua Aaron Moore
Quote of the Day
"The distance between insanity and genius is measured only by success." --- Bruce Feirstein
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