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Posted by Tommy Gunn at 11:29 AM | Permalink | Comments (8)

I gave my two sons driving lessons over the weekend. I ask you? Is it any wonder my hair is going gray?
Goddess Clairol and sister Maybelline, name thy sacrifice to return to me the thick, dark, single color, Sampson-like tresses of my youth.
God of the Airbag, give me strength and patience. Help me as I travel life's highways ... as a passenger ... with a 16 year old in control of a 3,000 pound bullet that still has several payments left on it. Don't blow up in my face at 200 miles per hour because the fruits of my loin are turning up the radio to catch My Chemical Romance's "Welcome to the Black Parade" instead of concentrating on staying as far away from telephone poles as possible.
Protect me from teen drivers who think that they can drive because they've been playing "Need for Speed Underground" on the Playstation 2 for the past six months and "outran at least a thousand cops without getting in a single wreck."
Oh, and world peace would be nice too ... and getting laid. Or at least a blowjob. Just askin' but thy will be done..
Amen

Posted by Tommy Gunn at 10:13 AM | Permalink | Comments (4)

I dunno. Maybe it's because I'm on meds now. Maybe it's because I'm getting older and starting to look back on the life I've led. Maybe it's because the goddess feels I have some karmic payments due and she's calling in the bill. Whatever the reason, I've been thinking about a kid I knew in high school. A kid that lived in my housing complex in Alaska. A short, fat kid that never really hurt anyone or did anything wrong that I can remember. A kid that probably looked up to me now that I think about it, but that may just be the fog of memory talking. God knows I was not worthy of anyones adoration or idolization. Hell, I didn't really even deserve any respect at that point in my life. I was a mess.
The kids name was Toby. Don't ask what his last name was and I won't lie and tell you I remember it. He was always just one of the kids on the outside. A hanger-on that wanted to be part of the gang but just wasn't quite cool enough to make the cut. You know the kid I'm talking about. You prolly knew someone like him when you were a kid. You may know someone like that now.
Like I said, he was fat and from the looks of his mom and dad, he was only at the beginning of a lifetime battle with obesity. His dad was a loudmouthed asshole and I couldn't stand him. He was always yelling at someone about something. Always yelling at Toby in front of everybody for some real or imagined infraction Toby had committed. He was a real prick. I guess my feelings toward him kind of rubbed of on Toby. I never cared much for him. Like I said before, not that he ever did anything wrong. He just had the unfortunate luck to be born to a pompous fucktard.
I went up to their door one day and knocked, possibly looking for Toby, I can't really remember. Maybe I was just stoned. No one answered so I tried the door and it was unlocked. I walked in and just ... started going through all their shit. I looked in every drawer, every closet, every room in the house, just looking. I don't know if I actually took anything. If I did, It would have been cigarettes or money ... no real property, but again, I can't remember. I do remember, and it has been haunting me a lot lately, another night where my little episode of breaking and entering was made to look like jaywalking by comparison.
All our parents were officers in the Army. That was our common bond. Officers have shit they are expected to do sometimes, like party together. It's a good morale builder and anyway, lets face it, who really doesn't like a good party? So all our parents were out partying somewhere and wouldn't be back for hours. Somehow we ended up hanging out with Toby. I was whacked out, man. I know I had been drinking and smoking dope and possibly snorting cocaine as well. All I know is that I was fucking twisted! I ended up getting in an argument with Toby. I'm sure it was my smart-ass, riding him, that started it. I'm a real belligerent stoner when I don't give a rat's ass if you exist or not.
I remember stomping back to my house, breaking into my dad's gun cabinet and getting a shotgun, breaking into his workshop and getting a pocket full of spent shell casings and walking back to Toby's house to teach him a lesson.
I ended up forcing him onto his knees and making him put the barrel of the shotgun in his mouth. He was crying and I was lording it up. This poor kid who's only crime was letting me into his house and wanting to be my friend was now totally degraded and weeping because I was making him beg me not to shoot him.
I remember feeling disgusted. I'd like to tell you that I was feeling pangs of regret and disgusted with myself for taking advantage of another human being, but truthfully, the disgust I was feeling was for him. Toby, a pathetic lump of flesh that actually thought I was holding a loaded gun in his mouth and was going to shoot him. A total pussy that didn't even try and fight back. I took the gun out of his mouth, told him that if he told anyone about that night, I'd come back and finish the job, and went home. I never gave it a second thought.
That was 30 years or more ago and I haven't thought about it for a long time. I think for a while, I even forgot about it, but lately it's been preying on my mind ... what I did to the people around me, how I treated others, took advantage of them ... misused them and the friendship they offered.
I'm sorry Toby. I was the pathetic one. I was the pussy. I was the psycho. You were just a good kid that got involved with the wrong guy at the wrong time. You did NOTHING wrong and nothing to deserve that. I wish I knew where to find you to tell you that in person. I know it'll never be enough but I'm truly sorry. I hope life has compensated you for being misused like that and I hope you are happy and successful, where ever you are.
And?

I hope the gods can forgive me now as well. Please?

Posted by Tommy Gunn at 2:21 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

So I'm driving to my mom's house today to drop off a batch of guacamole I made her for her Pampered Chef party tonight and flip on the radio. My regular station is kind of hard to get on post so I'm pleasantly surprised to hear the announcer coming in loud and clear. Suddenly they give the call letters and I realize that it ISN'T my normal station but something that's just bleeding through because of atmospheric conditions.
So as I'm contemplating whether or not this disappointment is worthy of hari kari, a loud "FUCK ME!", or possible a strongly worded letter to management, a commercial comes on that I just don't know how to feel about. Half of me wants to bust a gut laughing and the other wants to frown, get that fatherly "knitted eyebrow" look and shake my finger vigorously while uttering a harsh "TSK,TSK!" You tell me how you feel.

Her: George are you speeding again? You're gonna get caught and we can't afford another ticket.
Him: Don't worry honey, I've got the new Speed-o-matic 3000* and our car is totally invisible to all forms of police radar detection devices. AND it's guaranteed. If we do get a ticket, the Speed-o-matic Company* will PAY it!
Her: Well in that case, step on it. If we don't hurry we're gonna be late!

I swear to God, I had to check twice to make sure I wasn't listening to the best of Saturday Night Live or something! I ain't making this shit up, I promise!

Next, we were driving around this weekend. Ryan took the camera and was playing around a bit. I stopped to get gas at this "friendly" little service station owned and operated by my friend Pakistani Phil. He's such a friendly guy, he put up a sign welcoming all customers to his fine establishment. The sign is about 8 feet tall and goes a little something like this:

This past Saturday, it was a boys day out, we went to CajunFest 2007 on post. Here are a couple of pics. Joshua was flipping the bird, so at his mother's request, I photoshopped it out. Ryan is just ... well, Ryan.

And finally, How'd you like to wake up with this staring you in the face?

Posted by Tommy Gunn at 11:34 AM | Permalink | Comments (5)