Archive for the 'Everyday Life' Category

One Hundred Post Retrospective and Important Announcement

August 17, 2012

We all knew there would be a time that this would happen.

Well, I did.

I planned on sticking around for post number 100, and that posted at the beginning of this week. You know, the one about Gary Numan that you probably didn’t read.

It’s no problem. The posts don’t leave. They aren’t on a timer.

What’s up is up till the end of the Internet.

It’s amazing that I’ve kept this thing going for a year. Through public lawsuits and private break-ups, Five Hundred Words On… has been there.

Even when I grappled with personal problems, wrestling my own private writing demons, I managed two posts, exactly 1000 words, a week.

Even when I was in Orlando and Boston, I wrote for you people!

Actually, those were written ahead of time. I cheated a little.

But as all good things do, it feels like this has drawn to a close.

And I suppose that’s the true intent of this post, not just a simple summation of the past posts, but a final one. One with a bit of concrete in its feet.

Effective now, Five Hundred Words On is going on indefinite hiatus.

I truly feel like a parent telling his child of a divorce.

It’s not your fault, dear. It’s just how things work sometimes.

I set out with a small challenge at hand: you throw everything you have at me, and I spew out 500 words (no more, no less) about it.

And as the time has gone on, that’s what I have continued to do. But, after almost a year of it, a year of keeping in practice with these little word games I do so much enjoy, I feel the winds of change blowing harder than ever at my window.

And while no one in particular sent this challenge in, it was more a challenge to myself, to hang up my size 500 hat on a polished wooden coat rack and sit for a spell.

Take a bit of a breather.

Now, I’m not saying that I won’t be back. On the contrary, actually. I just need to put this on the back burner so I can free up a bit of stove top for something bigger, something better.

How can that be? Well, you’ll see.

There are plans in place already. SPOILERS: “WE” have been pooling some resources and have planted our asses firmly toward the drawing board.

So, this isn’t a tearful goodbye, although I have found a bit of moisture collecting in the corners of my eyes through this whole post.

No, reader. It is indeed an unfurled flag of accomplishment. I have not yet overstayed my time, and that’s good. I want to leave before I do.

But you’ll hear from me again.

I’d like to thank all of you for reading. I trust you enjoyed it as much as I did.

Truly ghjr



High Life Lounges

August 6, 2012

I need to start off by saying that I have in fact been to a couple High Life Lounges in my day. I’m not going to say which ones on the off chance that one is owned by a reader. However, what I am about to say about the lounges in general will probably be enough to piss off any owner, so that point may be in vein.

We’ll see exactly what happens in the weeks following this post.

If views go down significantly, then I suppose I’ll know I pissed off the wrong person.

High Life Lounges are some of the most prevalent businesses to pop up in the area in the past decade. For you readers who aren’t local, I live near the middle of Marion County, which is near the middle of “North Central” West Virginia, which is the area that is only slightly better than the southern part of the state but only because most of the people up here have most of their teeth.

The lounges are really just small gambling house that offer a wide range of video gambling machines, such as video poker, slots and… video poker.

They are generally dim in spite of the bright lights of the machines, and almost certainly filled with smoke. The standard fare for the spots are usually gambling addicts with little to no money.

Walking into one will certainly make one will like they must immediately leave to get some fresh oxygen and take a scalding hot shower.

But, as I implied before, I have been to more than one around the county. One time, it wasn’t my fault. I don’t usually commit drunken antics to published print, but this post calls for it.

I had been out with some of my buddies. It was Thanksgiving night, and I had been 21 for a couple months. One of my buddies with more disposable income than the rest of us bought me 3 White Russians (my drink of choice) with dinner, and then bought me another 3 or 4 shots of some hard liquor.

I don’t recall what kind it was, but I wasn’t driving that night, so I didn’t care.

I remember staggering through the squealing, ill-fitted door into the “lounge” next door.

Before I knew it, I pissed away $10, a lot of money for a kid working part time at minimum wage. All I remember is one of the girls putting in a $20 bill and cashing out with $26, claiming she wanted to cash out while she was ahead.

A lesser (or drunker) man would have seen that as a sign that he could win, only to lose much more money.

I walked away, only to return once more to play a single dollar and let it ride.

I don’t feel bad, though. The government says that money goes to old folks and tourism.

They wouldn’t lie to us, now…. would they?



This is not included in the 500 word limit.

I feel like I recycle “thank you”s in this spot, but I do want to give Daniel Bollinger credit for the challenge.

I really dislike all of the lounges and Hot Spots popping up around town, but people buy into the whole “the money funds tourism” thing, so they let it slide.

I should open one up in Carolina and make a bundle off the pipeliners.

Truly ghjr

My Superpowers

August 3, 2012

People often want to know where I came from, exactly what makes a man like me tick.

We learned long ago that every hero has an origin story, and even the greatest can come from humble beginnings.

Batman’s parents were murdered in front of him. Superman was sent to Earth to escape his dying home planet of Krypton. The Flash was struck by lightning.

Spider-Man was bitten by a spider. The Hulk was exposed to gamma radiation. Captain America was pumped full of chemicals to kick some Nazi ass.

It’s all pretty run-of-the-mill stuff.

I am no different.

I came from humble beginnings, growing up in a nameless, faceless town in the middle of West Virginia. I was a normal child, a bit smarter than some others my age, but I loved to play pretend or roll in the dirt outside. As I grew, my imagination was captured by something else: Star Wars.

But you’ve heard all about that. I can assure you I will not include any more about that now.

I aged as a normal child would, discovering social connections with those around me and reaching my childlike feelers out into the surrounding world.

But unbeknownst to me, a tiny bug had crawled into my ear during my sleep. At first, it caused no discomfort; the effects of the bug in my brain were nigh non-existent.

Then the visions started. Soon after, the hand spasms.

I could see things others couldn’t. Land squids attacking young women. Horrible happenings at Halloween.

Even a large, talking British doughnut attempting to save a band of merry music makers from the clutches of an evil king.

All of it played out in front of my eyes, and my hands flailed wildly all the while.

After some time, I finally dragged myself to the hospital for head x-ray. It took quite some time to pinpoint the cause of my problems, but that was the day we had discovered the tiny bug inside my brain.

The doctor called it Literatori Typungiforma, but he said most people just call it “The Writing Bug.” He said it has been known to cause severe hallucinations, finger spasms and carpal tunnel syndrome. Some severe long term effects have been known to occur, and they include depression and predisposition to alcoholism and excess.

I told him just how excited I was to hear about my new parasite. He could hear the sarcasm dripping from my every word.

He then told me that he had found the bug to be irradiated. It seems it had been living in a highly sardonic area and would continually emit the sarcasm through me.

Because of this bug, I sit at my computer night after night, scraping ever inner surface of my mind for the entertainment of you people, patiently waiting for my time to shine.

Because I’m the writer you deserve, but not the one you need right now. Because I am the sarcastic scrawler.

The lingering linguist!



This is not included in the 500 word limit.

Thanks again to Daniel Bollinger for another in which he wants me to spread my wings.

I tried to pull a bit of a Dark Knight thing there at the end. I hope you got that.

If not, just have Gary Oldman read the last few sentences to you. That’ll do the trick.

Truly ghjr