Saturday, I made breakfast for the three of us. The girls had biscuits and sausage, while I cooked up some potatoes and leftover steak from the night before, topping it all with an over-easy egg — a little breakfast bowl, if you will. After that came some house cleaning and laundry — just about typical for a weekend.

This time it was the boy’s momma who wasn’t feeling well. Since his father was off on a hunting expedition, we went over and watched the baby for a while. He was really no trouble and it turned out to be good, quality time. While we were there, Noah and Teegan made it back from their hunt, and we visited a bit before trekking off to the final campus tailgate of the season.

I was rather saddened that we’d already reached the end. I love those little party sessions — all the free food, drinks, and goodies that come with them. It’s always a lot of fun visiting and seeing everyone having a good time.

We were excited about getting the ribs one last time. Alas — no fucking ribs. WHY?! For that matter, the vendors were pretty scarce. You’d think that being the last hurrah of the season, they’d have been out in droves. Oh well.

Later, I decided to make some hot sauce from scratch. I’ve found that simple is better when it comes to hot sauce. I just boil a batch of red and green jalapeños, a tomato, and a little onion. Once they’re cooked through, I pull out the immersion blender, throw in some spices and cilantro, and get to blending. The smell was impressive — and eye-watering. I even coughed from the heat in the air. The batch was gold.

I decided to cook something that would go well with the sauce — something simple that everyone would like (except Lola). Chipotle chicken bowls with spicy chicken thighs hit the mark. Everyone went to bed satisfied while I started the first half of Guillermo del Toro’s Frankenstein. All in all, a pretty nice day.

Sunday was Teegan’s birthday! I made some biscuits, sausage, and bacon, and we all just hung around visiting for a while before Lola and Yvette took off to pick up the baby from her grandparents. The rest of the day was spent running errands around town, preparing for the week ahead, and doing chores around the house. I even trimmed up a tree in the backyard.

That’s what Sundays are all about when you get older and have kids, it seems — preparation and chores. I used to just make a menu, grab the supplies I needed, and, more often than not, head to the bar to wind down. That was after the divorce and before Yvette became part of my life — a time with few responsibilities during a darker period.

For Teegan’s birthday celebration, we all met up with my in-laws, my mom, and Noah, Nadia, and baby Niles. Zero One Ale House was calling Teegan’s name. I passed driving duties to Yvette and ordered myself a fancy house-brewed beer — it really hit the spot. Everyone ordered food and seemed to be having a good time, except poor Lola, who was sick to her stomach.

While devouring my Jamaican jerk chicken — spicy as can be — I ordered another one of those fancy beers. Damn, it was good washing down my meal. I even felt a little elevated by it.

To finish the night off, we all came back to our house and gathered around a cake Yvette had baked. We lit the candles and sang “Happy Birthday” to Teegan. I ate more cake than I needed. After everyone left, the remaining household went to bed. I finished the new Frankenstein movie and eventually hit the hay.

The Work Week Begins

The work week had to begin at some point. Monday wasn’t too terrible. Seth took off — because of course we couldn’t be fully staffed — so I stayed busy doing his job. Honestly, I liked it that way. Otherwise, I’d have been stuck in the office, and I thrive on being away from that joint.

After work, we had dinner plans with guests coming over. I had planned to run a few errands and swing by my mother’s to visit, but instead I came home to a surprise: the damn dogs had somehow opened the outside refrigerator — the one holding the rotisserie chicken. (Later, my camera revealed it was Rosco, but at the time I had no idea.) I was furious. I changed my plans and ran back out to Sam’s for another chicken. That little detour ate up all my extra time, so I didn’t get to visit my mother. Damn dogs.

Dinner turned out great, though, once everything fell into place. Owen was still messing with his little hotspot that he just couldn’t stop licking. Nadia was over, and since she’s been a veterinary assistant for years, she took a look at it. We applied some spray and she helped me put on “the cone of shame.” Poor bastard was terrified and kept running into everything with it on. I felt bad, but he really needed to let that spot heal — it was raw as hell.

The cone of shame… poor Owen.

Tuesday was fine, except for the horrific lunch I had. Owen either vomited or shit all over the place — I couldn’t tell, and it really didn’t matter. He eats shit, so when he vomits, it’s still essentially shit. Splatter shit. The smell was absolutely awful, and cleaning it up took a solid thirty minutes. I even stuffed earplugs up my nostrils to try and avoid gagging.

Lunch didn’t seem all that important after that cleanup.

The rest of the day was a drag in the office — which is usually the case when you’re stuck there. Afternoons progress at the pace of a snail.

After work, I went out to my mother’s to visit before coming home and cooking a few steaks for the girls. Teegan and I weren’t really feeling what they were having, and I had more vomit that needed cleaning up. Chicken bones — from the missing rotisserie chicken. I wondered when they’d show themselves. It was absolutely fucking awful and smelled just like the rotisserie chicken. I gagged and lost all appetite to cook anything for myself, so I decided to find some carryout for Tee and me at The Penny Taphouse. He got a nice Philly cheesesteak, and I went with my spicy ginger chicken — total comfort food.

Hump Day was just as bad, if not worse. I spent a lot of my time trying to find a place for Yvette and me to go for our one-year anniversary. It was coming up fast. I didn’t want to spend it in town — I wanted to take a nice little trip somewhere. My heart was leaning toward Fredericksburg. It’s already a fun destination, but during Christmas it’ll be absolutely beautiful for Yvette. I booked a room.

Thursday I made it to work early for our “morning meeting.” What a joke. Is it a pep rally? A pat on the back?  Disciplinary session? It wasn’t like the last ones, which were all about us supposedly not having freedom of speech on campus. What this one was — was a waste of time. I didn’t learn anything new that I didn’t already know.

I guess it’s good that we have these meetings to make sure everyone’s on the same page, but I still think it’s silly that I’m required to attend when I generally already know what’s being said — and most of it doesn’t even pertain to me.

I used to skip these meetings. I went most of a year without attending a single one. Eventually, my absence was noticed, and something was said to my boss. Ever since then, it’s been “mandatory” that I show up. Bullshit — but it is what it is.

Friday, everyone bailed by noon, and it was just Troy and me. I let him run around town paying up any bills he had left while I managed the office — which basically translates to trying not to fall asleep. It was that kind of Friday. I should have brought my book. Instead, I was jammin’ to classic Neil Young songs, trying to keep my eyes open.

After work, Yvette and I had a Ring Ceremony to attend for her student worker. It’s always tough to drag my ass back onto campus after getting off work, especially on a Friday. By that point, I’m ready to kick back and call it a day. I really wanted to jump right into the new show Yvette and I started, The Beast in Me.

Alas, the ring ceremony awaited. Honestly, though, I think it’s pretty amazing that Yvette has that kind of relationship with her student workers. This was the second time we’ve attended one of her graduating students’ ceremonies. Pretty cool.

The ceremony is rather moving, really. You can feel the excitement in the air. These young men and women have made amazing accomplishments and they are on their way to the goal. Futures so bright only the sun can rival.

Awards we came home and made quick meals. Yvette and I settled into 3 episodes of our show. Goodnight.

Happy Friday!!!

Jalapeño

Chipotle chicken bowl.

Yvette’s gumbo and potato salad.

Tuscan chicken and spaghetti squash.

Beef enchiladas.

Chicken mole.

The weekend started off with me grilling — soaking up a quiet morning. Bacon and egg street tacos for brunch hit the spot.  The weather was perfect — I enjoyed my coffee outside with the dogs I love this time of year when I can sit on the porch, water my plants, and listen to the songbirds sing. Pure tranquility.

The tranquility of that moment.

It didn’t last long.  I started looking at my backyard. Damn the acorns — I hate them. nature’s version of glitter — everywhere, impossible to get rid of, and just when you think you’ve cleaned them all up, there’s more. One of the joys (curse) of having big oak trees.

After that, not much happened. I ran a few errands, stopped by to see my mom before she left town, and let the day drift by. Lola was off to a concert, Alaya spent time with her grandmother, and Tee got picked up by his brother for an early morning hunting trip. I settled in with a new book while Yvette watched her show — I don’t think she even left the house. Mellow Saturday.

Sunday carried the same lazy energy. We had taco salads at Yvette’s parents’ and lounged around for most of the day. Weekends never last long enough, but this one was beautiful — calm, quiet, and exactly what we needed.

Than came Monday.

Monday was the day from hell. I barely slept, and my stomach was a mess. Pretty sure it was the salmon I made — I had a bad feeling about one of the pieces.  It was a little off. I noticed it when I was preparing it and made sure I was the one who ate that piece.  Big mistake. Regrets. I threw up a few times.

As if that wasn’t enough, baby Niles was also throwing up.  He was lethargic. Scans showed an intestinal obstruction. They decided it was best to have him airlifted to DFW for better testing.

Yvette wasn’t thrilled that I didn’t go with her, and honestly, I wish I could have. But someone had to stay behind — the house, the kids, the dogs, work… It also turned out they were in DFW for entire week, which I couldn’t have done.

I waited for updates from Yvette while juggling dinner for the kids and making sure Noah’s dogs were fed too. It was a long, anxious day.  Luckily, when news did arrive, the obstruction was just a simple twisting of the small intestine. They performed a minimally invasive procedure (through the anal cavity) to untwist it. The baby was fine and once again drinking and eating.

Told to remain in the area for at least 24 hours, they were discharged on Tuesday. I thought that was a little soon and that Niles should have been under observation for a longer period of time. I’m no doctor — what do I know?

Ignorantly believing all was better, I went about my workday Tuesday. I was tired, and my stomach was till a little sensitive. My biggest gripe was that I love seafood, and the thought of eating fish made me queasy. Idiot. Throwing up salmon and coffee the day before was brutal.

That Tuesday evening, the kids’ father paid for their food — Japanese steakhouse — leaving me to fend for myself. That was fine; I had Trader Joe’s meals at home.

Turns out my gut feeling that the baby should have been under observation wasn’t without merit. Around 10 PM, they took Niles back to the hospital because he wasn’t eating or drinking. After 12 hours of ER waiting, they finally got a room and saw the doctor: Niles was inflamed from the procedure but otherwise fine.

On Wednesday, they kept him overnight for observation to make sure he stayed hydrated. No one had packed appropriately for a long stay, so Yvette checked out of the hotel and went to find clean clothes and travel accessories.

I was at work, busy as a bee and disappointed to hear that I’d be sleeping alone in my bed again. I just wanted them all to be home. I didn’t mind getting dog food or taking care of the dogs. I love feeding the kids dinner. I just wanted everyone home so they could catch a breath.

When Thursday rolled around, the week already felt like it should have been over. What a long week it had been. I partly blame the time change for that — not just everything else going on. It gets dark so early now, and I’ve been running around after work trying to make use of the little daylight left before heading home to cook or find dinner for the kids.

I really do hate the fucking time change.

The workday started with a minor shouting match between my coworkers, Seth and Troy, over a silly disagreement that had happened around five o’clock on Wednesday. Both were being stubborn, each convinced he was right.

I tried my hardest not to laugh out loud — it was exactly the kind of ridiculous moment I needed to start the day. I even thanked Seth for the entertainment. He grinned and said, “You’re welcome,” like he’d just performed stand-up.  Honestly, I think he enjoyed it as much as I did.

Later, I talked to Yvette. She had stayed another night at the hospital, catching what little sleep she could in a chair. The baby was finally keeping most of the formula down — most — but the doctors wanted to keep him a bit longer to see if he’d have a bowel movement before going home. It wasn’t looking too promising.

In the end, they all stayed one more night in DFW.

I can’t believe Yvette left on Monday and it’s already Friday. That’s the longest I’ve gone without seeing her in over a year, and honestly, I don’t like it one bit.

The day at work was meandering along at a painfully slow pace. Troy had taken the day off to dry his eyes after his little altercation with Seth. I expected as much—he always gets upset and needs a day to recover. Poor baby. The upside? I got to pick up a couple of his tasks since my own work had basically dried up.

By the afternoon, I was just done. I kept glancing at the clock, counting down the hours. I had dinner plans with the whole family, and all I could think about was cooking for everyone. Mostly, though, It was just excitement knowing Yvette was finally heading home. I can’t even explain how much I’ve missed her.

The evening was magical. Dinner was amazing. We laughed. Some of us drank. We shared our week’s war stores. We were exhausted, but we were all together.

Happy Friday!!!

Jalapeño.

Chicken chow mien.

Salmon and shrimp.

Gorgonzola gnocchi with chicken, broccoli and mushrooms.

BBQ pork ribeye, baked beans, potato salad, grilled okra and slaw.

Gnocchi alla Sorrentina with chicken & mushrooms.

New York strip with cognac peppercorn mushrooms, butter mashed potato’s and broccoli.

Saturday Morning at TCU

Saturday morning I awoke refreshed. I woke up early, like it was a workday—which I suppose the TCU campus tour essentially would be, at least a little. I took a shower and wanted (well, needed) some coffee. For some unexplainable reason, our hotel had nothing complimentary unless I brewed it myself. So that’s exactly what I did. Lame.

In the lobby, I settled down in front of the TV and flipped it over to The Weather Channel, wondering if I’d see any mention of last night’s crazy storm. Apparently, a tornado did indeed touch down near where we were staying—hence the ominous sirens. Crazy. It really was one scary night out.

By morning, the weather had mellowed into a calm, gray overcast. I’ll take that any day over yesterday’s white-knuckle drive. Honestly, it might have been the perfect campus-touring weather.

Hotel experiences are always something. I know many people will disagree, but I truly enjoy them. I like sitting in the lobby and people-watching. I met a lady from L.A. whose daughter was going to TCU and really liked it. I told her we were there for a tour. She asked if the Dodgers had won. I had no fucking idea. She seemed to want to chat, while I just wanted my coffee and a little quiet time to myself.

We arrived at TCU, and I was immediately wowed by the stadium—and how they managed to make it look like it had always been part of the campus architecture.. Even after that brutal storm, the place was gorgeous. Truly stunning, actually. I could imagine how incredible it would look without branches and debris scattered everywhere. It felt like we were taking a leisurely stroll through a park.

Funny thing: our campus tour guide turned out to be from our own town! Small world, right? That made his stories more relatable for Teegan. It was also a much more immersive tour—we walked the campus more than we had on any of the others. And might I reiterate—the campus is fucking beautiful. Man.

Out of the four college tours we’ve done, I’d put TCU at the top of the list. A big part of that might just be the weather, though. Our previous visits were either freezing, soaking wet, or hotter than hell—it’s always the weather.

I did feel a little pang realizing this was probably our final campus tour with Teegan. I’ve really loved these trips with him and Yvette. It’s been exciting to see college life from different perspectives across the state.

Heading Home

On our way out of town, we stopped at Trader Joe’s. I found a few treats for a great price. Lola had to have In-N-Out Burger, so we went there next. The chaos inside that place—and not knowing what the hell was going on—gave me a full-fledged panic attack. No joke. I actually had to splash water on my face to calm down.

I let Yvette drive home. I’d done my duty. We grabbed some Chick-fil-A and made our way back to our own little town. It was a wild trip, but I enjoyed it nonetheless.

Sunday morning, I slept in. When I finally woke up, I wasn’t thrilled to find that one of the dogs had left me a “nice” surprise. After cleaning up that mess, I ran to the store to grab what I needed for breakfast: chorizo potato tacos. Yum, yum, yum.

Weekend Wrap-Up

We spent the afternoon watching some football at my in-laws’ after feasting on some caldo. The Eagles beat the Giants. I hate them both, but I really despise the Eagles.

The rest of the afternoon was spent running errands together—which I actually enjoy. I also needed to fix the wall shower mount, which ended up meaning replacing it. Easy task. I was presented with two options: drill into the bath tile or use the adhesive that came with it. I’ll try the adhesive first. I’m in no rush to risk breaking the tile.

That’s basically my weekend. I’d say it was a lot.

Monday. The Halloween week!!  What a week to be alive and kicking.  What a week to be above the grave.  The spookiest time of year.

Work was actually consistently busy, which made the day just fly right on by—and honestly, I’ll take that any day. Nothing drags worse than a slow Monday. I had some good conversations with folks across campus, and the universal consensus was clear: everyone’s over this weather and ready for a change.

Yvette was off taking care of Nile’s, so I didn’t see her until that evening..

After work, we had Noah and Nadia over for some burgers. I figured since the cold weather was moving in, we might as well fire up the grill one last time. Burgers are easy, delicious. I mean, who doesn’t love a burger?

I had fun outside cooking. Flipping patties. The company was great, the food hit the spot, and the evening turned into one of those unexpectedly perfect Monday nights that make the week feel a little lighter.

On Tuesday, the cold actually moved in a little earlier than expected. One moment it was sunny, and the next it turned cloudy and windy. You can practically watch the weather change here in Texas. Oh well — I wasn’t dressed for the cooler temps, but I had to adapt.

That evening was all about trunk or treat with Alaya. She dressed up as Stitch from Lilo & Stitch, and of course, she was absolutely adorable.

I’d never been to a trunk or treat before — they’re pretty chaotic! Considering it was hosted by a high school, this one was a huge affair. So many damn people. Alaya cleaned up on candy and even scored a balloon animal. She was a happy, happy little baby. I love this stuff.

Halloween Day!!! 🎃

Hard to believe it’s been two years since I proposed to Yvette — dressed as a clown, no less. Yep, a fucking clown. Halloween has always been special to me, but ever since that day, it’s taken on a whole new meaning. Now it’s not just about spooky costumes, scary movies, and pumpkins — it’s about one of the happiest moments of my life.

I still smile thinking about how ridiculous that proposal was. Silly and not exactly romantic — but totally me. I wouldn’t change a thing. It’s one of those memories I’ll always carry with Yvette and the kids. Funny to think it all happened before we even knew Alaya would be part of our little family. Life moves fast.

As usual, I showed up to work in my traditional Halloween “uniform”: a black shirt and one of my spooky buttons. This year, I went with the pumpkin one. I’ve had those buttons for at least eight years now, and somehow I’ve managed not to lose a single one — even though I only wear them once a year. Honestly, that’s the real Halloween miracle.

Campus was alive today — a witchy wonderland down in the UC basement with food, black lights, door contests, and more; a costume contest in the library; and trick-or-treating all around. Watching the students laugh and show off their costumes just filled me with joy. There’s something about seeing people fully embrace the fun that makes my soul shine on Halloween.

I picked up some lunch, and Yvette and I had a little picnic outside the UC, people-watching as students walked to and from classes in their spooky and cute Halloween costumes. Yvette was in total Halloween mode and started talking about maybe throwing a Halloween party next year. I thought that was a damn good idea.

The rest of the day at work was filled with the joy of Halloween. It’s always such a fun day to be on campus — everyone’s energy just feels a little lighter and a lot more playful.

After work, it was trunk or treat and trick or treat adventures.

I was Yip Yip from Sesame Street. A bit of an obscure character, apparently, since no one I’ve talked to seems to know who he is.

How?! He’s been around since 1972! I mean, I guess I sort of get it. He doesn’t have much interaction since he doesn’t really talk. He’s not cuddly like Elmo or the others, but I’ve always thought he’s damn unique.

As a kid, the Martian segments always cracked me up — especially the one where Yip Yip encounters a telephone. Still hilarious to this day.

First up was the Boo Bash on campus. It was a simple little blast. Alaya scored big.

After our little campus walk, we headed to the south side of town—apparently the place for trick-or-treating. We had no idea what we were getting into, but wow, it was packed. Some of the houses were even giving out adult treats, such as beer, spiked punch and Jell-O shots. What a treat.

Only three people recognized who I was dressed up as, which was a bit disappointing. Everyone else thought I was Cookie Monster. I mean… I kind of get it, but still. It felt good when someone said “yip yip”.

We wrapped up the night with some takeout and handed out candy to the last few trick-or-treaters. Yvette and I ended the evening with one of my favorite Halloween traditions: watching Trick ’r Treat. Perfect way to close out the night.

Happy Friday!! Happy Halloween!!!

Horror Season 2025

Mandy

Fucking Mandy. This movie. This movie holds a place in my heart. 2018 — Jesus, that feels so long ago. I love this film. It’s been a few years since I’ve watched it, but it still lingers. It’s deeply atmospheric.

Director and writer Panos Cosmatos first caught my attention with his debut, Beyond the Black Rainbow. I was eagerly waiting to see what he’d do next — and I wasn’t disappointed.

Mandy is very much a psychedelic rock opera of madness.  Conan the Barbarian on acid in an ‘80s fever dream.

The story itself is fairly straightforward — if you ignore all the subtext, symbolism, and cosmic dread leaking out of every frame.. It’s a revenge flick — drenched in horror. Lots of horror. But really, the film is all about the visuals and sound design. My god, the colors are everywhere. The imagery burrows into your mind and stays there for many moons afterward. I cannot stress enough how visually stunning this film is — unlike anything I’ve seen before or since.

Per IMDb:

“The enchanted lives of a couple in a secluded forest are brutally shattered by a nightmarish hippie cult and their demon-biker henchmen, propelling a man into a spiraling, surreal rampage of vengeance.”

A murder-revenge rampage — and what a ride it is.

The King Crimson intro sets the mood.  You know you’re in for something transcendent when King Crimson shows up.

We start with a couple living a tranquil, happy life on the outskirts of civilization. He’s a lumberjack; she works at a convenience store. One night, their peace is obliterated by the arrival of a deranged religious cult. The titular Mandy is murdered, and her partner, Red, descends into a blood-soaked revenge trip.  Lots of drugs.  The viewer is dragged along for the trip — a blood-soaked fever dream to the very end.

Nic Cage is at his finest here. One scene, in particular, is unforgettable: he completely breaks down, chugging a bottle of booze in his tighty-whities and unleashing a primal scream of grief and fury. It’s raw, unfiltered, and unforgettable.  For my money, this is the best Cage yet.

Jeremiah Sand  — what a disgusting and outstanding villain. A narcissistic failed musician turned cult leader, convinced he’s a prophet of God and everything is his. He’s so grotesquely self-absorbed it’s almost mesmerizing.  His song is atrocious — and the fact that you can buy it on iTunes is the funniest kind of blasphemy.  He is at times pathetic and almost laughable but also shudder worthy.  New Age hippie trash. 

And then there’s the satanic LSD biker gang, The Black Skulls. My god — are these beings even human? I honestly don’t know. Not since Hellraiser have such demonic creations graced the screen. They’re frighteningly grotesque, straight out of a nightmare.  Mad max meets “cenobite” aesthetic.  The chainsaw fight scene? That’s cinema. Pure, deranged, chainsaw-to-chainsaw.

The Chemist and the Tiger.  “You exude a cosmic darkness”.  What a line. What a scene. What a vibe.

This movie demands multiple viewings to fully absorb all the tiny, twisted details baked into it. Enjoy the ride. Hallucinogenic, nightmarish, and weirdly beautiful. 

All Hail the Cheddar Goblin!!!

Jalapeño

Chicken veggies over rice with queso.

Tapatio’s w/ Spanish rice.

Burgers.

Saturday, we woke up and went to the Homecoming parade. Alaya got all the candy. She was a happy girl. The parade itself was actually good; they had some clever floats for our viewing pleasure. The announcer, not so much. I think they need to slim down the announcements. My lord, the poor guy was about two blocks behind before someone finally told him to zip it.. Honestly, the parade could have been over for ten minutes before he even caught up..

After the parade, I rushed off to my next event: the No Kings protest.

It was an incredibly uplifting experience. I hadn’t really planned on attending this time around, but my mother called to say she and a friend had made a last-minute decision to go. I’m so glad I decided to join them.

I felt my spirit lifted. It was a gathering of people united by their frustration with the current administration—namely, our Dear Leader, Trump. The age range and racial makeup of the crowd were all over the place. Not the radicals or far-left types Fox News likes to portray—just regular people from different walks of life.

As I’ve said before, I’m not a Democrat—I’m an Independent. I’ve never voted straight party. Some folks in the crowd were even Republicans who’ve simply had enough of the “orange man.” These were people who want justice for everyone, not just a select few.

The crowd was even larger and more organized than last time. The police had taped everything off and had a noticeably stronger presence. They were also pulling over the obnoxious, instigating assholes speeding by in loud trucks. Every time one got pulled over, the crowd erupted in cheers. That felt like justice served—with a side of sweet, sweet karma.

You can disagree and support the Dear Leader—but don’t be an asshole about it.

The signs were even more creative and inspiring this time. I also loved how more people dressed up. We had inflatable costumes, and even a woman who made her own frog outfit. Apparently, the Portland frog protester sparked a wave of frog inflatables across the country—who knew?

There was a loose, joyful feel to the crowd. Just people united for a good cause, having a good time. Such a good vibe in the air and among the people.

I was happy to run into a couple of old friends at the protest—again. It’s funny that I hadn’t seen them in years, but here we were, crossing paths at both No Kings protests. For a man who’s all about dividing people, I guess in his own twisted way, Trump is bringing us together.

After the protest and back at home, I really just wanted a damn burger. I called in to a local joint, City Limits, who was serving $10 burgers on Saturday, and Yvette and I split a tasty meal. We really didn’t need it, considering that the tailgating we were about to attend usually fills sour bellies.

The RamJam was a blast, but once again, it was too damn hot—like a slow roast you didn’t sign up for. I ate way too much—ribs, sausage, tacos, cheesy potatoes, fried chicken, Frito pie, and a lot of beer. After that burger, I really didn’t need any of it, but here I was: a walking, bloated mess.

We ran into my friend Art again, and naturally, Yvette and I had to take shots. Obligated. At least this time, Yvette was going down with me—heroic, really. They were all very impressed with her ability to kill a Jell-O shot. The rest of the day, I burped up the rump shots.

We enjoyed ourselves so much that we stuck it out until basically the end.

That evening, we ran a few errands and just chilled. It was a quiet night with the baby gone, Lola out of town, and Teegan out helping his brother.

I turned on a horror comedy, Freaky. It was a blast! It’s about a body switch—a teenage girl swaps bodies with a serial killer, and vice versa. She has 24 hours to make it right or she’s fucked, forever stuck in the killer’s body. Vince Vaughn plays the killer’s body, and his turn as a teenage girl is actually unexpectedly hilarious. I didn’t realize I needed Vince Vaughn playing a high school teen in my life.

My lord, some of the kills in this movie are just truly epic. The shop teacher was sawed in half in a spectacle of blood and guts that would make even the goriest horror fans cringe and cheer. One poor fool has a wine bottle shoved down his throat. Great fun. Satirical horror at its fucking best.

Sunday was a beautiful morning. It was brisk. I watered the plants and enjoyed my coffee. Teegan was already up, playing his new game.  I could hear the yells coming from inside, which basically means he was either winning or losing spectacularly—I was laughing either way. I’m definitely going to miss his gaming antics when he heads off to college.

Yvette’s parents made red beef enchiladas, hard shell tacos, rice, and beans—a true treat for a Sunday lunch. We ate and watched football. Roger and I talked about work and the endless weirdness that is campus life.. I left stuffed and with a couple of new Halloween decorations that Emma gave me on my way out.

It was a good day. Yvette and I went to the store, I meal-prepped for breakfast (which I suspect Teegan ate overnight), did some house chores, and went to my mom’s. We mostly just relaxed, which might be code for “napped.” Everyone was back at the house for dinner, and that was the weekend in a nutshell.

Monday, dear Monday.  The most dreaded day of the week. I was stuck with office duty—again—which probably makes me sound like a broken record when I say how much I truly fucking hate it. I feel like a caged bird (pretty sure that’s been said before too). Sitting around with nothing to do drives my ADHD brain absolutely insane. Maybe it’s a good thing I don’t have a regular office job. I should remember that every time I start looking around campus for something else.

I did manage to escape for a bit to attend the Staff Senate meeting. You know, after getting that charming little email about my poor attendance record.  Fuck it—I wasn’t doing anything else for a change, so I figured why not show up and make my presence known.  Appease the “executive board”, so to say.

The meeting looked way more official than any of the ones I’ve attended in the past. Each senator had a little table tent with their name on it.  I walked in and had a full “WTF is this?” moment.  For a second, I thought we had assigned seats or something, until one of the ladies handed me my tent. Honestly, I don’t see the point. Just feels like an unnecessary waste of someone’s time.

Was anything informative discussed at the meeting?
Haha, not really.

I did learn a little about the new department, Career & Professional Success. What I really wanted to know was what happened to all the people from Career Development—the department this new one apparently replaced. They’re just… gone. Vanished. Like they got Thanos-snapped out of employment. Did they all just retire in unison? Really strange. I expected at least one person to stick around for the handoff. Apparently not.

The rest of the meeting was just committee reports, which felt like a whole lot of nothing. Someone mentioned possibly getting us T-shirts. Again, kind of an unnecessary waste of time and energy. Do we really need shirts to signify we’re senate members? No. Attendance came up too, so I’m guessing I wasn’t the only one who got that email.

Anyway, I agreed to the terms, so I guess I’m strapped in for the ride. But based on experience, I’m not expecting any major accomplishments to come out of this.

The rest of the week wasn’t particularly exciting.

At work, I just tried my best to look busy—sorry, stay busy—around the office. My big escape from the monotony came in the form of trash cans. Yep, you read that right: trash cans.

Apparently, the housing department decided to splurge on some fancy new shiny bins and didn’t want the old ones anymore, so off they went to salvage. The funny thing is, the old cans were still perfectly fine! A gross waste of money—classic university move.

I let a few other departments know about the unwanted cans, and two of them immediately jumped at the offer to replace their battered old Rubbermaid Brutes. One department came to grab theirs, but I became the unofficial trash can delivery service for the other, hauling cans across campus.

After several trips over a few days, I’d successfully distributed the “new-to-them” cans around campus. It felt good to save a couple of departments some cash—and hey, it even made two buildings look a little less trashy.

Friday rolled around and started out rather normal — that is, until I realized that a nick on my thumb had bled all over the shirt I was planning to work in. I had to change, and I wondered to myself if that wasn’t going to sum up the rest of my day.
Well, it summed up the moring.

The office was already crazy when I walked in the door. Everyone and their fucking dog needed something from us. We later found out it was because their boss was onto them for not completing jobs, so they needed us to help with the logistics. It was loud, and some of the weirdest of the weird were lingering around like fucking vultures circling a rotting corpse.

This was a bummer for our office, and I brought it up to my boss. Just because the techs aren’t getting their jobs done in a timely manner doesn’t equate to an emergency for me. This shit shouldn’t trickle down on us. It was slow most of the week, and then Friday was insanely busy. Actually, the last few Fridays have been hectic as all kinds of hell.

I also had to deal with some exceptionally moody fuckers. One guy came into the office and loitered for almost an entire hour waiting for one of my coworkers to return so they could run an errand together. He got pissy because he had to wait, and then when my team member arrived, the weird fucker wouldn’t even talk to him — so my coworker went about his business. Only then did this fucker go, “Is he leaving again?”
Yes, you idiot. Why didn’t you stop him if you’ve been waiting on him for almost an hour?

I just knew he’d go tell his boss the reason he couldn’t get his job done was because my office wouldn’t accommodate his needs. That’s just the way this asshole is.

I also get a little anxious on days when I have a long road trip ahead of me — and Friday was that day.

It was gloomy and wet, which would’ve been perfect on an average day. But this wasn’t an average day. We had to hit the road to DFW. What’s usually an almost five-hour drive could only be made worse by the weather conditions. Plus, who wants to leave town with severe weather in the forecast? You could come back to a mess.

I was ready for the road — just not looking forward to it.

The drive was a chore with all the showers. People driving like maniacs in piss-poor visibility really takes it out of me. Hell, the interstate itself takes a lot out of me.

After checking into the hotel, it was a quick trip to the most chaotic Old Navy I’ve ever seen. Talk about a goddamn mess—I have no idea what the hell happened there. Looked like a tornado had gone through the store. Looked like Lola’s room.

Next was an outing on the town for some local Cuban food at a place called Lola’s. Yep, same name. I guess they’d eaten there back when it was just a little old food truck. Now it’s a full sit-down dining experience. I do love me some Cuban food.

Leaving was interesting—one hell of a storm. I’d forgotten just how ominous those tornado sirens sound. Visibility was shit, and we had to “turn around, don’t drown.” It was dark, flooded, and crazy. GPS rerouted us through what must’ve been a shady neighborhood—thankfully, we couldn’t really see it. It was a scary adrenaline rush for us all.

Back at the hotel, Yvette and I hit the bar for a drink. We needed it. Happy fucking Friday!!!

Horror Season 2025

The Gate!!

As a child, The Gate was my jam. A horror film geared toward children, 1987’s The Gate doesn’t rely heavily on blood and gore, but its story of backyard demons and literal hell on earth was terrifying to me back then.  Still is today.

All the leads were child actors, so I could relate to their performances—their onscreen fears. Monsters attacking while Mom and Dad are away? Classic ’80s kid-centric horror.

It all starts when a storm brings down a tree, uncovering a cavernous pit that turns out to be the gateway to hell. Around this time, the parents head out of town, leaving their 15-year-old daughter in charge of the house, the family dog, and her 12-year-old brother.

At that age, your parents are your protectors. So when bad things begin to happen and the kids are left to face it alone, it hit especially hard. I could project myself into their scenario—it frightened the hell out of me imagining something similar happening while my own parents were gone.

In my books, The Gate belongs right up there in the kid-peril pantheon with The Goonies and Honey, I Shrunk the Kids—except this one’s a full-on horror movie. The kids triumph in the end with little or no help from the adults. I’ve always loved that kind of story. It made them feel more real, more relatable.

So what about the creatures? Well, there are imp-like demons no taller than a doll—and they look terrifying. There’s a zombie that can attack and abduct people through walls. A giant serpent-demon emerges from the floor. Kids and teens get possessed. There’s even a weird dream sequence where the parents come back… but they’re evil. And don’t get me started on the family dog’s death—it made me want to cry.

This movie had all the spooky elements needed to scare a kid.

But what truly haunted me was when the lead character develops an all-seeing eyeball in the palm of his hand. That eye creeped me out more than anything else. He eventually takes care of it with a shard of glass, but that image stuck with me for years. I was terrified that something like that might happen to me. The idea of an always-watching demon eye, and the only way to stop it was stabbing yourself? Yikes.

I still think the movie holds up today. Nostalgic.  The practical effects are spot-on. I love the creature and sound design.  Nightmarish in the best way. The atmosphere is just great.  The child actors are convincing.  When they scream in terror it’s as if they were truly terrified.  The Gate scared the ever-living shit out of me as a kid—and honestly, that’s the highest praise I can give it.

So if you’ve never seen The Gate, you owe it to your inner child to watch it.

Jalapeño.

Sweet and sour pork.

Mexican steak with a lot of sides.

Tuscan chicken and spaghetti squash.

Chipotle chicken bowl.

Hibachi bowel.

Saturday

I woke up feeling refreshed. That didn’t last long.
I threw together a quick breakfast—a green chili cheese omelet—and had my coffee. Fire and caffeine, the only way to start the day. Then it was time to get to work. The joy of homeownership. I needed to get up on the roof and cut away a partially fallen branch.

My balance isn’t quite what it used to be (thank you, aging), so I brought both the chainsaw and trimmers up the ladder in one go.. Oh, the joy. Thanks to my damn back, I have to watch myself on ladders these days. Luckily, it was a quick cut, and I was down in no time.

I cleared the branch from the roof and gave it a good kick to send it crashing to the ground. It was still partially attached to the tree, but momentum and weight took care of that.

The fun part came with disposal, which required the chainsaw and some time. I pretty much wore myself out with the chore. I’ve been feeling a bit of a seasonal funk lately, so it didn’t take much to drain me. I’m apparently allergic to autumn.

Since there was no tailgating to attend, I whipped up some lunch for us—German potatoes and bratwurst. It was a nice afternoon for grilling. I was actually impressed with the potatoes, a recipe I came up with years ago. It reminded me that I need to make more German food for Oktoberfest. Perfect excuse to go full schnitzel.

I’m not entirely sure what happened to the rest of the afternoon. It sort of disappeared. I mopped the floors, cut up old shirts for rags, and headed to the mall with Yvette and Lola to check out wedding rings and do a little shopping. I looked at dress shoes while the girls mostly browsed.

Yvette’s grandmother was turning ninety in a couple of days, so a big gathering was planned while everyone was in town. We had brisket with all the good stuff that comes with it. Yvette’s family is so much larger than mine, and it’s always something special when they get together. How it doesn’t dissolve into total chaos is kind of a miracle.

Sunday

Sunday morning, the dogs must’ve plotted to drive me insane. Ever since Owen’s recent surgery, Rosco has been glued to him—barking, whining, hovering. I figured it would stop eventually, but it’s just gotten more ridiculous. Poor Owen seems confused, and Rosco’s behavior is compulsive, which is unusual for such a mellow dog.

I made myself some brisket egg tacos for breakfast while the girls went off to church. For some reason, I worried the outing might end with everyone in a bad mood. Mothers and daughters…

Later, I made a quick trip to the store for a few essentials and started planning meals for the week. That’s kind of my thing. I’ve got some creative dishes lined up, but it’s impossible not to spend a ton of money grocery shopping these days.

The girls and I met up with my mom for lunch at a restaurant we used to visit all the time. The owner is a neighbor of mine. As soon as I walked in, he greeted me with a hug and poured me a tequila shot and a beer. It’s a long-standing tradition. I tried to put a stop to it a few years ago after my head injury, but… traditions die hard. A single shot and a beer weren’t going to ruin my day or keep me from finishing what needed to get done.

I hadn’t eaten there in a while and had no idea what I wanted—so many good choices. I went with the cheese enchiladas. They make them differently than anywhere else in town. Something about that sauce and the gooey cheese… Comfort food.

It was a good lunch—nice to spend time with my mom and the family. Good to have some laughs together.

Later, Yvette and I made a big Sam’s run to restock some essentials. I swung by my mom’s again to visit and grab some of her sweet pickled jalapeños. We had a simple dinner with good conversation. Alaya’s dad came over for a visit, and I capped off the night watching an old X-Files episode.

All in all, a nice weekend—even with my annoying seasonal yuck. Work, family, food, and a little tequila.

Homecoming Week!!

Lots of fantastic traditions on campus: door decorations, the Blue and Gold Bash, a remembrance ceremony, a bonfire, and many more. The general vibe is excitement.

On Tuesday, Hazel turned 10. Damn. That makes me both happy and a little devastated. I remember when she was just a few months old—like it was yesterday. Time shouldn’t fly so damn quickly.  It just needs to chill the fuck out!  She’s still the same sweet girl she’s always been; she just moves a little slower now, just like I do.

When she was a puppy, she was such an athletic dog—she could catch a flying frisbee mid-air. It was majestic. My sweet girl.

For her birthday, I went out and found her some doggie ice cream and one of her favorite toys: a pig. Ever since she was a puppy, she’s had a thing for pig toys. She carries them around like they’re her babies. She was very happy to have another one that oinks.

I sure love her, and I’ll cherish all the time I have with her. Not much in life has brought me as much happiness over the years as my sweet Hazel. She’s been one of the greatest joys of my life. I’m a dog dad—and she’s my first girl.

Wednesday I was really into the homecoming spirit—it was the day of the Blue and Gold Bash. I’ve attended every year they’ve held it since 2019. Unfortunately, this year it didn’t kick off at its usual 5 o’clock. I waited until 5:20 and left. I had a social hour to attend with Yvette.

I was a little pissed.  It always started at five. They advertised it as starting at five. What the fuck, people?

Anyway, Yvette’s boss had invited us to a Cyber Security social at a restaurant called Angry Cactus. I was a little out of my element and worried I wouldn’t know anyone—military folks and cyber nerds. The mayor was going to be there (who turned out to be very nice and approachable, actually).

I ended up spending the most time talking to Yvette’s boss’s husband about a town we both love: Alpine, Texas. Every time I’ve spent time with the guy, I get along with him more and more. I kind of feel like we would’ve had a good time hanging out if we’d known each other and were the same age.

I also had the chance to chat with another dean from campus. We talked about our old department (I was a student worker there) and how so many of the guys we knew are now retiring. It’s sad to see the old crew move on. That department was where my campus journey began—my fellow rock nerds.

Overall, it was a good evening. Good conversation, fun moments, and all of it outside my usual comfort zone. I like that. Yvette’s boss keeps inviting me to things, and it’s always fun. She’s a great person.

They didn’t have enough food for everyone—that one’s on the restaurant. Assholes.

So Yvette and I ended the night with a $4-for-4 chili dog deal and called it a night. Haha. Nothing says classy post-social-hour meal like a chili dog.

Still disappointed about missing the Blue and Gold Bash, I tried to find another way to enjoy Homecoming Week on Thursday: door decorations. I took a little time out of my day to drive around campus and check out the eleven departments that decorated their doorways. I knew where to look because Yvette—yes, she was a judge for the door decorations—had the inside scoop.

Anyway, it was a lot of fun. Some of the departments really went all out this year. It didn’t quite scratch the itch left by missing the Blue and Gold Bash, but it did help take the edge off.

The week was finally coming to a close—thank the heavens for that. One of those weeks that was somehow both busy and dragging along like a dog scratching its ass on the carpet. I don’t know how that happens. Maybe it was the lingering seasonal stuffiness that made it feel excruciatingly long.

Nothing much exciting happened at work—just the final day grind. After work, I was sent to the liquor store to grab the fixings to make Yvette an adult beverage. I thought my week was long—she had me fucking beat.

That night, after dinner, it was off to the bonfire. I’ve been attending the event since 2021, making this year five. This was the first time I wasn’t there alone. It was a different experience with my family in tow, but a good one. It was nice to have something to share. Love them.

Happy Fucking Friday!!!

Horror Season 2025

Prince of Darkness.

This is a movie I’ll always consider one of the first truly terrifying films I ever feasted my eyes upon. I was also way too young to be watching it. It’s one of the first scary movies I can remember seeing as a kid.

It was a night with the entire family — my mom and dad, uncle and aunt, and cousins. I guess they thought it was okay for me to watch. I was probably eight. Maybe seven. I don’t know. I remember sitting on a blanket in front of the TV in the living room, the adults filling up the couches.

Dread. Absolute dread.

It was a great — if not absolutely terrifying — experience.

It left me scarred for life.

And I truly fucking mean that.

There’s a scene in the movie that wiggled its way into my still-developing brain: a student disintegrates into large black beetles. He just falls apart into a writhing mass of them. Because of this, to this day, I’m terrified of beetles. I hate them. In large numbers, they creep me the fuck out.

And honestly? I’m grateful for that.

John Carpenter is one of my favorite directors. He’s made some true masterpieces:
The original Halloween. The Thing. In the Mouth of Madness. The Fog. Vampires. Big Trouble in Little China. Escape from New York.

All of these films hold special places in my heart, filled with memories I cherish. But none hit as hard as Prince of Darkness.

For years after that first viewing, I didn’t even know the name of the film that had haunted me most of my life. It wasn’t until one evening in high school, while browsing the horror section at Hollywood Video (RIP), that I happened upon it again. I liked John Carpenter and was intrigued by the VHS case and plot summary. It sounded familiar, so I rented it.

And then, that intensifying dread washed over me as the film progressed. When the beetle scene hit, the memories of that night years ago came rushing back. It was like I had suppressed it. Suddenly, it all made sense. My fear of beetles.

Most of the actors in this film are relatively unknown. Donald Pleasence is top-billed — Carpenter had worked with him previously on a little movie called Halloween. Dennis Dun and Victor Wong are great in this too; they also appeared in Big Trouble in Little China. Peter Jason has a small part — he always has a small part in Carpenter’s movies. Aside from Alice Cooper’s glorified cameo, I don’t recognize any of the other actors from anything else.

And honestly? They’re not very good. Campy as hell.

But that kind of plays to the movie’s advantage. These are just regular folks in a fucking end-of-the-world scenario.

So, what’s the film about?

It’s about religion and science teaming up. A story of a group of college students, their professors, and a priest investigating an ancient cylinder of swirling green liquid — the physical manifestation of Satan.

I think it’s a very Lovecraftian vision of biblical entities — more scientific than spiritual. The concept of evil as a manifested extension of anti-matter (the dark mirroring the light), along with religion and science converging to study — and combat — that evil? That’s epic. It’s a big idea. And the film does it justice.

It makes evil feel more grounded. And therefore, more terrifying.

The evil spreads from within the church where the liquid is kept. The Catholic Church has been trying to keep it contained for centuries, but its power is growing. At first, only the schizophrenic homeless population outside are affected, but soon those within the church begin to succumb to its influence.

What does this mean?

The people become zombie-like. Or maybe it’s more like possession? Either way, they become the embodiment of evil. Anyone trying to escape meets a gruesome end. Those who remain are slowly picked off — and then revived as something else.

Not alive. Not dead. Just… evil.

Methodical. Emotionless. Creepy as hell.

One of the most effective moments is when a student, in the early phase of possession, retains just enough of himself to realize what’s happening. He chooses the most extreme way to stop it — cutting his own throat with a shard of mirror while singing Amazing Grace.

It sends chills down the spine.

In the end, only four of the fourteen characters survive.

One thing I really loved in Prince of Darkness was the shared dream sequence— the shadowy figure shown in what looks like amateur video footage, accompanied by a cryptic announcement that it’s a transmission being broadcast from the future. (Probably a warning to stop the devil from being released.)

That bit was absolutely great — unnerving, and it lingers in your head long after the credits roll.

And the ending?

I’ll leave it at that. Open for interpretation.

Jalapeño

Leftover bratwurst with mac n cheese.

Chicken tacos.

Vinegar BBQ pork ribeye with some roasted asparagus and potato’s.

Korean chicken bbq bowl with broccoli, rice and kimchi.

Yvette’s lasagna with my Italian veggie blend.

Balsamic steak with pepper and veggies.

What a busy weekend.

Saturday I slept in a little, 9:30.  Once I was out of bed I found that Yvette and the girls had made some pancakes.  Unfortunately, I can’t really eat that… damn diabetes, always ruining things.    Instead whipped up some chorizo egg tacos.  Damn tasty.  I love the simplicity of chorizo and egg.  Spicy greasy gold.    

I had a little yard work I needed to knock out.  That last heavy rain left a messy bunch of run-off.  My French drain seems to be working but just not well enough to handle that volume of water so quickly.  I should probably install another one.  Pisses me off.

I cleaned up and ran some Saturday errands.  I was hell bent on finding a university hat for a decent price.  The bookstore pricing… ridiculous.  You would think that they had gold embroidery.  I had no luck. 

Time for a little tailgating.    

Pink Out the Concho Valley

It was Breast Cancer Awareness Month, so we all showed our support by wearing some pink. They were giving out pink shirts too—which I gladly grabbed. I needed another one anyway, and this time they were free.

I ran into a few friends, Art in particular. He even offered me a drink. That man had a cooler with Rumple Minze ready to go. I hate the stuff, but how could I refuse? The man came to our wedding, for fuck’s sake.  Drinking bad liquor together is just part of the friendship contract. It’s always a great pleasure to see him—he’s been a good friend for over 20 years.

Most of the food was solid. We found some ridiculously good cheesy potato salad right off the bat. Also, ribs.  Always the ribs.  I later found some fantastic buffalo chicken cheese dip. The inside food offerings, though—not so much. I guess when they handed off responsibility for the event, the good food didn’t transfer over with it.

The girls all left early. I think they’d been around each other a little too much that day, and the irritation showed—mothers and daughters dynamics kind of thing. Plus, it was a bit hot, and Yvette needed to get ready for the main event later in the day.

We had a very cultured date night. Yvette’s boss gave us tickets to attend a special symphony concert. Pianist-focused.

I had a hard time figuring out what to wear. I rarely dress up, and when I do, I tend to go all out—full suit and all.  Usually for big events like weddings and such.  Maybe I need to invest in some middle-ground clothing.  Church clothing. 

The concert was beautiful—just delightful. We had great seats and, thankfully, no one sitting right next to us. The talent of the two piano players was astonishing. For the encore, they both played on the same piano, side by side, even crossing arms. I was wowed by the spectacle.

We left at intermission, not realizing it was just intermission.  Everyone was getting up.  I guess for refreshments and the potty.  We left out the side door.  Quietly. Oh well—we saw the part of the show we came for.

Afterward, we headed out to the lake for some pizza. The place had only been open for three months. We ordered the buffalo chicken pizza and both agreed—it was fantastic. The atmosphere was stellar.  A crisp October night, next to the love of my life, eating pizza by the lake.  That’s the dream.

Sunday, Sunday.
How you sneak up so quietly and quickly.
Bastard day. The bane of the week.
The polite reminder that Monday is lurking around the corner.

We went over to the in-laws’ and had an exceptionally fine lunch of pulled pork. The others made sandwiches or stuffed potatoes. Bloody carbs. I couldn’t indulge, thanks to my sugar levels being higher than I’d like. Once again, damn the diabetes.

After stuffing myself (with what I could eat), I went home to make some Halloween decorations. I had a mop stick, a pumpkin pail, a witch hat, and some black table liner. Dollar store creativity. All I needed was my drill and a hot glue gun to begin the assembly. It was surprisingly fun getting crafty, and I think the little pumpkin pail witches turned out pretty good—if I do say so myself.

The rest of Sunday was spent running all over town with Yvette, knocking out a bunch of errands before the weekend tapped out. One mission: find a superhero shirt for Teegan. Something for school. You would think that an easy task, but it took two stops.

That evening, we ate, and Teegan and I caught up on our show, Peacemaker.

All in all, it was a nice weekend that went by way too fast. Over in a blink, as usual.

My coworkers and I entered the week expecting it to be loud with our boss back from vacation. Little did we know, that wasn’t going to be the case. His mother-in-law took a turn for the worse, and he was in and out of the office all week. That meant another week of quiet vibes.

My workload was steady—if not a little frantic at times. My afternoons were especially swamped. Everything seemed to happen right after everyone else got back from lunch. That’s the only downside of taking lunch at 1 in the afternoon—when I get back at 2, I must rush to get things done. Friday afternoon I was so busy I utterly wiped myself out. I was in the office a total of maybe 30 min.

On that note, I got an email from the “Staff Senate Executive Board”, who I never voted for, saying I had missed too many meetings. It’s called having a job that’s feast or famine. Some of these jobs across campus all seem to have way more downtime than we do over in Facilities. Especially these days.

The email pissed me off, honestly. I didn’t even feel like dignifying it with a response.

Fuck them. I even like these people, and I like being on the senate, but they need to work on tone.

The first meeting I missed was during move-in week—I was busy putting out fires. A student moves into the dorm, plumbing’s not up to the parents’ bloated expectations, and suddenly I’m running for parts. Am I supposed to say, “Sorry, can’t help you right now—I have a Staff Senate meeting”? Fuck no.

The second missed meeting, I was the only one in the office. Should I have just locked the door and closed the office?  That wouldn’t raise any eyebrows at all. Ridiculous.

And apparently, I was supposed to notify the others in advance that I wouldn’t be attending. News to me.  This is my third term, and I’ve never had to do that before. But sure—cheers to this new board for being super by-the-book. I’m sure their newfound commitment to procedure will change everything on campus.

Maybe I’m jaded, but no one really listens to the Staff Senate anyway. It’s all for nothing. A glorified suggestion box that nobody ever opens. I feel like each year that I’ve been on it, it has become less and less about the staff and more and more about the image of the people serving. I fear it’s becoming a bullshit organization with people patting themselves on the back.

I had great expectations for making a difference and now it doesn’t even get me out of the office.

Maybe I should run for an “executive” position.

Anyways.. Sorry for the soap opera.  Rant over.  I was pissed at the email, Friday afternoon was hell and it’s been a week.

Happy fucking Friday!!

Horror Season 2025

Cast a Deadly Spell

In the ’80s and ’90s, HBO was the premium cable network. HBO was the bomb. Cast a Deadly Spell, an HBO original, epitomizes the term “forgotten gem” with its fantastic concept. This weird horror-comedy is a sweet tribute to both the horror and detective genres—a noir comedy horror filled to the brim with Lovecraft references. It holds an incredibly special place in my heart.

Released just a couple of months after my tenth birthday, I was definitely not the intended audience for such a film. But my parents—or more specifically, my father—had no problem letting me watch some good ol’ horror movies.  You might say that he had a pretty relaxed approach to what was “age appropriate.” He was even more excited about this one because the story is loosely based on the classic literature of H.P. Lovecraft. Eldritch horrors. Cosmic dread. The Necronomicon. Hell, the main protagonist even shares Lovecraft’s name. Of course this movie was right up my dad’s alley.

The cast is exceptional: the late Fred Ward, David Warner, Clancy Brown, and Julianne Moore. Ward, already a favorite of mine thanks to Tremors (1990), plays the lead. I recognized Warner from my favorite Star Trek movie, and I liked Brown for his role as the Kurgan in Highlander.

The movie is very much a hybrid of genres—equal parts horror, comedy, and film noir. Set in 1948 Los Angeles, magic and mystical creatures are part of everyday life. It follows private detective Lovecraft (Ward), who refuses to use magic, Naturally, he gets hired by a shady millionaire (Warner) to track down a rare book—yeah, that one. The Necronomicon. It’s missing, he needs it for a “special occasion,” and the clock is ticking.

Spoiler: that “special occasion” involves summoning the Old Gods in exchange for unlimited power. Because of course it does.  Isn’t that what all rare books are used for?

Watching the film today, it still holds up well. The special effects are all practical—thank God. It was released before CGI became a thing, and with its modest budget, CGI wouldn’t have been an option anyway. The monsters look great, the gore is kept minimal but effective.

There’s one scene I’ll never forget.  It terrified me as a kid: death by paper cuts. A spell is cast on a short-lived character who becomes engulfed in swirling sheets of paper, each slice drawing blood until he bleeds out. Death by a thousand paper cuts. It scared the hell out of me. As a ten-year-old boy who knew how bad a single paper cut could hurt, I could definitely relate to that man’s pain and fear.

That scene is still brutally beautiful to this day.

This movie remains entertaining as hell. I loved everything about it then, and I still do now.  It has everything: monsters, detectives, magic, noir one-liners.   It’s easily one of the best Lovecraftian films out there.  Sadly, mostly forgotten.

Jalapeño.

My chicken cheese enchiladas from last week were a hit so I made them again.

Pesto cheese ravioli with Italian sausage, mushrooms, spinach, sun dried tomatoes and peas.

National taco day!! Taco salad!

Hoisin pork chops with veggie chow mein.

Spaghetti squash with meatballs, salad and green beans.

Sesame chicken.

The weekend was fast and very laid back. After our short/long trip to Aggieland and back, I had zero desire to do anything. I woke up Saturday feeling like a brand new person—oh, what a little bit of insulin will do for the body Wo knew?. It’s been a long damn time since I’ve gone over 24 hours without any, and I don’t want to be in that predicament again anytime soon. I do not recommend it.

I always travel with extrat. But Thursday? Distractions. My mental checklist that was more like Swiss cheese. And then, surprise! Pump malfunction. Because of course it fucking would.

Later, I swung by my mom’s to pick up the damn dog. Let me tell you, I remember the first time I saw him with staples in his belly two years ago—I was horrified. Now? Meh. The shock has worn off. That’s probably not a good thing.

Of course, when I pick him up, he’s just like he was before he got sick—acting like nothing at all just happened to him. Death was a knocking and here he is bouncing around in circles. Short memories. I love this dog, but he’s reaching a point where this shit just can’t keep happening.

I put out all the Halloween decorations before October even hit, which really just amounts to some spooky pumpkins and ghosts. Yvette showed me a DIY Halloween decoration that I was hell-bent on making. Yeah, it’s cool and cheap, but what they don’t mention is that gathering all the supplies feels like going on a scavenger hunt across town. I went to four stores before I had any luck, and I still had to alter the plan and order some lighting online. So, I’ll have to assemble the decorations later when I finally have everything together.

Oh well. It was something to do.

Sunday started strong: chorizo and potato tacos. Heavenly. A+ breakfast. I patted myself on the back.

After that, I just lounged around the house for most of the day. Eventually, I ran some errands, and around six, we all headed over to Yvette’s parents’ house for a BBQ feast. BBQ out the wazoo! Ribs, deer sausage, brisket, and chicken. It was really nice of them.

We watched a little football, and suddenly it was already getting dark. The day was done. The weekend over. In a flash—gone.

The week actually started off… not terrible. Which, for a Monday, basically qualifies as a miracle.  It was slow.  I was going to try and have an office week again—maybe this time without it being derailed by someone throwing a wrench.  I hate the office, but I honestly can’t remember the last time someone didn’t take off or call in sick, leaving me to pick up the slack when needed. I was due a break.

At least the weather was mostly cloudy and cool. That alone was enough to lift my Monday mood.

I worked mostly on personal BS while pretending to be productive whenever someone came in.  Like I said—it was slow. It also didn’t hurt that the boss was away on vacation. The glory of silence.

Tuesday morning, I ingested my weekly dose of The Daily Show with my coffee—part of my sacred routine. There’s something oddly comforting about starting the day with a humorous recap of the fractured mess that is our country. Between the madness of the media and the absolute stupidity of our nation’s so-called Dear Leader, it’s nice to laugh instead of cry.

I’ve been a fan of Jon Stewart for over 20 years now, and I still find his take on politics and the media refreshingly honest. The man has heart.

Work, on the other hand? Dull as hell. I literally had nothing left to do. I was caught up, twiddling my thumbs, just waiting for something—anything—to turn into a project. Personal tasks were already handled the day before, so I couldn’t even fake being productive.

I guess this is just how it goes every year when fall rolls in—we hit a brick wall, productivity screeches to a halt, and yet I’m surprised by it every single time.

Hump day arrives, and I immediately hear chatter about a bomb threat called in to the university. Apparently, there would be a heightened police presence on campus because of it. Fantastic. I guess with all the recent media attention that we’ve garnered, some whack job decided to commit a federal crime.

I’m sure the threat had no merit, but these things still have to be taken seriously.  Protocol, and what not. Honestly, I don’t know what the broader campus response was—but my office saw no interruption to the day.

I had a date with the vampires on Thursday, and the vampires were thirsty. I had to wait an unusually long time to get my lab work done. The location I go to is usually quick, but I think others have caught on—now it’s starting to get busy. Anyway, they drew the blood, and I watched the vials fill up like a weirdo. Big highlight of an otherwise dull day. Office weeks…

Friday finally arrived and turned out to be the longest workday of the week. I ended up reading a leaked transcript from one of the big departments’ meetings on campus. It was about our current BS politics. What a flaming shit show that was. My lord. I almost feel bad for the new Dean who inherited that mess. Audio would have been great. Good lord.

After that, it was my biannual doctor’s visit—my first since my summer scare. We had a good appointment. My diabetes is in better control than it’s been in over 10 years. I’m happy with that and I’ll probably celebrate by eating something that I shouldn’t.

My doctor asked how things were going on campus, and all I could do was laugh. The laught said “you have no idea”. He has a friend on the faculty, so he’s heard plenty whispers already. We talked about how targeted these attacks really are. I wonder how many times I’ll be asked how “life is on campus”?

We both agreed that the witch hunt probably isn’t close to being over.

We live in scary times. When the powers of government start regulating what can and can’t be taught at universities… When you give a bully a little to get them off your back, they only come back asking for more later. That’s what it feels like right now, and not just on campus—across the country. At what point do you stop giving in and start standing up.

I’m an independent voter with a low tolerance for BS on either side. I can see through the shit. Trump and his administration? Absolute disaster. Depraved uncaring assholes. Those on the right who think they’re part of his “team “ are in for a rude awakening. If you ever awake. Please awake.

These people don’t play for anyone but themselves. They are a pitiful reflection of humanity. A distortion, void of kindness. A disgrace. The worst.

But they have us beat. The genius of this whole trick is that while we’re all busy pointing fingers—arguing over pronouns or whatever—they’re running the long con. Division is the tool. People want someone to blame. Meanwhile, the real power grab is happening right out in the open.

Power is being gobbled up in ways we’ve never seen before. Checks and balances? Getting shaky. Norms? Fucking tossed aside. But my eyes are open. I just wish more people would open theirs—ideally before it’s too late.

Happy fucking Friday!

Horror Season 2025

The New Halloween Trilogy

I decided to give all three movies in the new Halloween trilogy a go. Why? Honestly, I don’t know. Curiosity? Boredom?

The first is a direct follow-up to the original 1978 film. I don’t feel like I need to educate anyone on that one—everyone should know who Michael Myers is, right? That foreboding, slow-walking, heavy-breathing icon of evil with the most haunting William Shatner mask of all fucking time.

A little background, in case you’re curious, on why a Star Trek Captain Kirk mask became the stuff of nightmares: I hate to disappoint, but there was nothing deep or symbolic behind the choice. Nothing creepy. The production team bought a Shatner mask for $2 and painted it white. That was it. No metaphor, no message—just a cheap solution that accidentally became iconic.

Back to the movie. I found it entertaining to see where Laurie Strode (Jamie Lee Curtis) ended up after the traumatic events of the first film. Naturally, she has PTSD. Forty years later, she’s still living with the terror of that night. That trauma has turned into hatred—for her brother, Michael. She’s spent decades hoping he’d escape prison and come back so she can kill him once and for all.

She now has a family—a daughter and a granddaughter—but of course, all this Michael Myers obsession has put a major strain on those relationships. They think she’s a little batshit crazy. Who can blame them? She has been preparing her whole life for Michaels unlikely return. That would seem a little coocoo?

Anyway, Myers eventually escapes during a prison transfer (thanks in part to a shady doctor who views him more like a lab experiment than a person) and returns to the sleepy town of Haddonfield. On Halloween night, of course. People start dying in classic slasher fashion.

The final showdown is what you’d expect, with Myers presumably dead. But we know better—there are still two more films to go. Besides, if you have any remote knowledge of this franchise you must know that the sonofabitch just refuses to die. The man has survived being shot, stabbed, burned, and electrocuted.

The original Halloween basically launched the slasher subgenre of horror, which I respect, but I’ve never really cared for. The idea of an unstoppable murder machine always felt like silly shit to me. Why can’t the villain just die? It’s dumb.

I genuinely enjoyed Halloween (2018). I was actually surprised by how much I liked it. Dare I say I liked it more than the original? I think I just might have.

But I liked this follow-up because the characters felt more developed—probably because we already know what trauma shaped them over the past 40 years. The plot was simple and predictable, sure, but that didn’t bother me. I wasn’t expecting gold, and I didn’t get gold—I just got a stupid slasher movie that was actually well-made. That’s all I needed.

So, how about the next two installments?

Halloween Kills.  The film basically starts as a flashback to Halloween 1978 — the arrest of Michael Myers. A big “should’ve, could’ve, but didn’t” moment. Cool, I guess… but did we need it? Not really.

Where Halloween Kills really gets going is when it picks up the exact same night the last movie ended. Because obviously, Michael Myers wasn’t dead. Fucking duh.  The man isn’t to be stopped by a house fire.

The real star of the show is the kill count. The absolutely ridiculous kill count. There had to be at least 30 bodies by the end of the movie.  It’s not so much a slasher film as it is a murder montage. It was entertaining, sure — but also kind of stupid.

In this chapter, Myers is less man and more killing machine.  He’s not even pretending to be a regular guy anymore.  The film leans hard into a supernatural element, turning him into something beyond human. A mystical monster that grows stronger with each kill.

I mean, the guy is literally being hunted by  a whole angry crowd with baseball bats and zero survival instincts.  A full-on lynch mob. They think they’ve killed him — only for him to rise up and slaughter them all. You definitely need to suspend disbelief to get through this one.

One of the biggest bummers?   Laurie spends most of the film sidelined in a hospital bed, monologuing about evil. Jamie Lee Curtis’s talent feels totally wasted here.  A true crime. She deserved more.

That all might sound like heavy criticism, and yet… despite all of this? I kind of loved it. It’s dumb. Aggressively dumb. But it knows it’s dumb and leans into it — and somehow, that works. The death scenes are so over-the-top they’re practically comedic. At a certain point, I stopped being horrified and just started laughing.  I mean, how could you not laugh at the absurdity?

A lot of people probably expected more of the same — and this film definitely didn’t give them that.  It was just a kill spree and it was good fun.  Just don’t expect logic — or subtlety — and you’ll have a blast.

Now let’s see how they wrap the story up

Halloween Ends. What a creative name.

What to say about the final installment of the trilogy?

Well, for one, Halloween Ends certainly takes a very different direction from where Kills left us. I expected another direct follow-up, but instead, this chapter jumps ahead four years. Michael Myers has vanished, and the people of Haddonfield are trying to move on. Laurie is writing a memoir and living with her granddaughter. And… well, that’s the setup.  Life movies one.  Right?

We spend a lot of time with a young man named Cory. He’s been ostracized after being cleared of a manslaughter charge and becomes a victim of the town’s judgment and bullying. Eventually, he encounters Myers, succumbs to that darkness and goes on his own little killing spree. At least… I think that’s what’s happening? It’s kind of a mess.

In Kills, we learned that Myers might not be entirely human.  Bulletproof, fireproof, pitchfork-proof. But now? Now we’re told he can transfer his evil to someone else?  Like some kind of fucking virus? What is that about? When he finally reemerges from the sewers in which he has been hiding, he no longer seems like the unstoppable force he was in the previous film. Has old age caught up with him? It’s never really explained, and the film is riddled with similar narrative holes.

After another final confrontation, Michael’s seemingly dead body is tossed into a grinder and pulverized. That’s it—goodbye, Michael. The end.

The film might have worked if it hadn’t been billed as the conclusion to a trilogy. After the chaotic ending of Kills, it feels like the writers weren’t sure where to go. You don’t end the Laurie-Michael saga by shifting the focus to some random kid. It just doesn’t make sense. As a standalone? Sure, I can see the value in the story. But as the final piece of a trilogy? A weird direction.

Honestly, this could have worked better as a standalone film. The story is less about Myers himself and more about how evil is infectious. Evil doesn’t die—it evolves. It spreads. It takes root in people. It lingers in communities, festering in fear, blame, and mob mentality. And that’s a cool idea! But maybe not the best way to wrap up the Laurie vs. Michael storyline we’ve been building for two movies (or 40 years, depending on how deep you’re into Halloween lore).

That said, I still had fun with all three films, even if the conclusion felt muddled. Watching something I normally wouldn’t have picked up turned out to be a worthwhile experience. I love Jamie Lee Curtis—though I think she was sidelined a bit too much throughout these films. But hey, isn’t it supposed to be Michael’s story? Or was it always just about evil?

In any case, it was a fun ride. I get why some fans were frustrated and disappointed. If you want Halloween (1978), just watch Halloween (1978). I went in with an open mind and left mostly satisfied. Nothing groundbreaking, just good entertainment. Refreshing, in a weird, familiar way.

Jalapeño

Beef with broccoli stir fry.

Chicken cheese enchiladas.

Chicken Chipotle bowl.

Steak salad.

My very own orange chicken stir fry. It had been a while.

Carne al pastor tacos.

Saturday, I woke up to find I was all out of coffee—a terrible situation. I decided to worry about my caffeine fix later; first, I needed a little breakfast. Teegan was still asleep, and the girls had run off to a sale, so I made myself a fried egg and leftover Spanish rice. It was a simple meal, quickly thrown together, but it hit the spot.

I left the house for Sam’s to get gas and bottled water. Damn gas prices went up 20 cents overnight. Bullshit. After that, I stopped by the campus for some coffee. I figured the Starbucks would be open. I was wrong. Damnit.

Lilyfest 2025.
My lord, things have changed since Landon, the founder, passed away. Last year it came as a surprise, but this year, I kind of knew what to expect—bounce houses, a DJ, and snow cones. Trying to make the event relevant to the younger crowds.

It used to be such an elegant affair. People came from out of the country to see the lilies. They even had fireworks in the evenings. Not anymore.

I still had fun people-watching and admiring the beauty of nature. They’d done a good job cleaning up the tanks compared to my visit the week before. The lilies had been so overcrowded and were desperately in need of thinning out. I was happy to see they’d made it much more presentable.

After the fest, I went to an actual Starbucks. I needed my damn coffee—and three hours later, I finally got it. I found a bench by the river, watched the wildlife, and enjoyed my damn coffee.

It was family weekend on campus, so the day’s tailgating was family-filled. We got there earlier than usual, and already there were a lot of people. So much damn food. I ate and ate like there were no repercussions. Unfortunately, there always are.

The girls left about an hour before I did because of the heat. I understood—Yvette really looked like she was feeling it. I stuck it out and had my fair share of beer and food. I was going to make that membership fee worth it, by God.

It was fun just roaming around. I ran into some friends and a couple of retired university folks. I like the sense of unity I get at these events. Everyone finally together, despite differences. You can feel it in the air. I just wish it was always like that.

Once back at the house, it was time for dinner. How could I possibly even be thinking about food. National Pepperoni Pizza Day! I had to use that as an excuse to make my own pizza. Yep. And wings on the grill. Why the fuck not?

Teegan and I caught up on our show, Peacemaker. We both laughed our asses off. I love having shows with him. It’s really something I never knew I needed or wanted. I’ll miss those moments when he moves off to college. Thinking about it makes me kind of sad.

Sunday, I woke up super late with a tummy ache. All that tailgating food. The repercussions. And yeah, I ate more pizza before bed. Idiot move.

On a wild hair, I decided to go see The Long Walk since I’d just finished the novel. I really wanted to see how they’d pull it off. I guess they managed fairly well, but honestly, I found it underwhelming. I was kind of just sitting there waiting for it to end. Maybe it was because I’d just finished the book? Honestly, I kind of felt the same way while reading it: just end already.

So, the week began—miserable. On Tuesday, my tree limb saga continued. My neighbors clearly didn’t like that my insurance didn’t find me legally liable for any damages. It was an “act of God,” they said. But the neighbors wanted money. They were demanding and pushy. I might have compromised if the demands hadn’t been so ridiculous—especially after being told I wasn’t accountable for the vehicle.

I had no intention of burning a bridge, but let’s be honest: they were never really my friends. Until this incident, I hadn’t even had a proper conversation with them in over a year, at the very least. I think the last time I spoke with them was when my yard was getting a little unruly. I couldn’t maintain it because of my back injury. They acted like they stopped by out of concern, but I always got the feeling they were just hinting that I should take better care of my yard.

If I were a real prick, I’d take this opportunity to point out that their new circle drive funnels all the stormwater from the street directly into my yard—flooding it and filling it with debris. I’ve had to clean up a mess every damn time we get heavy rain, and I haven’t once complained.

And now here they are, wanting me to pay their deductible and cover any possible premium increase if they file a claim. Again, this is after my insurance determined I’m not legally liable for the damage. For fuck’s sake—I even paid to have the tree removed. I didn’t have to do that!

I could understand if it were a vehicle they actually used, but it’s a ranch truck that’s 20 years old and hasn’t left the driveway in months. The damage is minimal—a single dent to the hood. Nothing to weep over.

I’ve been very cordial up until the demands started. I called my insurance again to inform them of the situation. They told me that from now on, my neighbors need to direct any future claims to them—not to me—because I’m legally in the clear.

People can be so damn petty.

On top of all this, I had a sick dog. Of course, it was Owen. The dumbass no doubt ate something he shouldn’t have. This happened right after he’d just seen the veterinarian last Friday. I had to clean up vomit seven times, and the poor bastard wasn’t eating.

Wednesday was so much kinder to me.

I woke up around 4:30 to some loud fucking thunder. It was shaking the house. The thunder was so intense that everyone but me jumped out of bed to inspect. It had to have been extremely close, because we heard what can best be described as a pop or snap right after the initial crack. I’d heard about this before on The Weather Channel. I was afraid the power might be out, but we got lucky.

What followed was rain. Beautiful rain. Before I had even left the house, over an inch had fallen—and it didn’t look like it was letting up anytime soon. I sure love a good rainy day. Throw in the fact that it was considerably cooler, and almost everyone seemed to be in a better mood.

For lunch, Yvette brought to my attention that Wienerschnitzel, a fabulous hot dog chain, had four chili dogs for only four dollars. Christ, you can’t beat that! It’s a bit of a heavy lunch for me, but I honestly had no idea what I’d scrounge up at the house—so I was in heaven. Chili dog heaven.

Thursday started rough. I woke up already frustrated—poor Owen still wouldn’t eat or drink. I can’t even put into words how frustrated I was. I had a short day at work ahead of me and a long drive to Texas A&M, and here my damn dog was sick again. I couldn’t leave him with Lola and the baby—not even for a day. So I called the vet and made an appointment.

I hate having sick pets. It’s always Owen. The fool just can’t help eating what he shouldn’t. And then we’re right back in the vet’s office. He had to have surgery and they removed a plastic bag stuck between his stomach and intestines. Poor expensive fool.

As if that wasn’t enough, work brought its own kind of headache. Another morning meeting—this one supposedly about active shooter training. But that turned out to be just the bait to get us all in the room.

What it was really about? A new state law. One that prohibits any discussion of sex or gender that doesn’t fall strictly within “man and woman,” “he and she.” Everything else is off-limits. No more mention of pronouns beyond the binary. No more talking about transgender, bisexual, or nonbinary identities. According to the presentation, violating this law could result in immediate termination.

I saw it coming.

On Tuesday, my brother had sent me an article from a news outlet in Austin. Someone on campus had leaked details: the university is trying to get ahead of enforcement efforts from both the state and federal levels. According to the article, “if they make any statement on campus implying that there are more than two sexes or genders (male or female), they will be fired.”

We’re state employees, so we have to comply.

What a bummer.

It’s disheartening to see freedoms chipped away like this. I feel for the people who will be directly affected. I know people who are going to suffer under these changes, and it breaks my heart. I genuinely don’t understand why people can’t just let others be—how is anyone else’s identity harming you? You might not understand or like it, but it is not really hurting you?

Why can’t we all just live and let live? Why can’t we all just be happy?

After all that bullshit, I was just happy to be hitting the road to Aggieland. That five-hour drive? Total therapy. Teegan, Yvette, and I loaded up and made the most of it the highway. We made decent time, even with an accidental detour through Waco.

Once we got to College Station and settled in at Yvette’s childhood friend’s place, she took us out to dinner—same spot my boss had recommended, actually. I had two much-needed beers and a damn tasty burger. I was in a happy place.

Sleep came easy.

We thought the tour started at 9, but it was actually at 10—so we woke up with a little more breathing room. I drove out for coffee. Honestly, my morning would’ve been fucked without it.

The first part of the tour was the usual—showing off landmarks. The fun part. I wasn’t as impressed with A&M as I was with Texas and Baylor, but it was still pretty impressive. Honestly, just seeing how these larger universities compare has been a real highlight. Each tour has come with its own weather experience, and this time, it was the heat. Unlike the other campuses, though, they didn’t offer bottled water, which is definitely a negative in my book. Oh, and I wasn’t all that impressed with the art, either.

The Aggie Corps was something else, though. I’d always heard how cultish they were, and my lord… I can’t imagine myself ever being part of that group. I kind of wanted to laugh a little. I mean, the boots with spurs?! The shoes with bottle caps attached to them so they’d make noise. The uniforms. It was all just a bit much.

Also, the traditions were just goofy. HOWDY!!! That’s definitely not in my vocabulary. The people were pumped, but it all felt a little like bullshit to me. Still, bless them if it’s genuine.

I don’t want Teegan to go to A&M but if it’s is the place he decides to go, I support 100%.

All in all, the trip was a great time, and I was really glad to add another college campus tour to the books with Teegan and Yvette. I did have a technical issue with my insulin pump, which kept me from having as much fun as I would’ve liked. I went 24 hours without insulin—headache and irritation aside, I was still happy. Happy Friday!!!

Horror Season 2025

Event Horizon.

What a damn frightening film.

I still recall the very first time I watched it and how disturbed I was after the credits rolled. It was the summer of 1998. I was in Midland with my brother, Samuel. His dad had recently moved and was living in a temporary apartment while looking for a house.

We picked up some pizza and stopped by a Blockbuster on the way home. Oh, the good ole days—I miss video stores. I liked to just walk around and let my eyes do the picking. I always gravitated toward the horror section because of the gnarly cover art. Unexpectedly, I happened upon a movie that featured Sam Neill on the cover, so we grabbed it. We’d been Sam Neill fans ever since watching Jurassic Park as small boys.
(Aside: I was also a boy the first time I watched Event Horizon, only seventeen.)

What we got that night was far more than we were expecting.

The wonderful thing about movies back then was that you often didn’t know what you were going to get. You didn’t have the internet to look up trailers or plot synopses. Unless you caught a trailer on TV or in a theater, all you had to go by was what was written on the back of the VHS or DVD case. Usually, it was extraordinarily little plot and almost no representation of the visuals.

Event Horizon made it clear from the get-go that it was not just a science fiction movie—it was very much a horror movie. Nearly 30 years since its release, it remains one of the most disturbing visual films I’ve ever seen. The grotesque imagery was burned into our heads that night. What’s so chilling is how briefly it’s shown. The mind didn’t have time to fully comprehend what it had seen, but the glimpse was enough to leave behind pure nightmare fuel.

The story of faster-than-light travel has been done many times before. What Event Horizon explores, that others have not, is the idea of creating a wormhole—folding space-time, teleportation through black holes. But what is the dimension you travel through to get from one point in space to another? What could be brought back into our world? What if the dimension you passed through was utter chaos? What if it was hell? That’s where things get interesting.

That is exactly what Event Horizon explores—in a truly terrifying fashion.

I love this movie. It has great acting, an exceptional story, haunting atmosphere, eerie music, and visuals that still hold up all these years later. I’ve become somewhat desensitized to horror over the years, but this one left a scar on my developing mind.

A movie that snuck up on two lifelong friends, enjoying some pizza on a Friday night, in a town they barely knew, with a future ahead of them still waiting to unfold.

Jalapeño

Pizza and wings!!

Loaded baked potato. BBQ pulled pork, corn and all the fixings.

Imitation crab pasta.

Jambalaya.

Buffalo chicken pasta.

Aggieland burger!!

Tired from the road to go food. Sesame ginger chickennn

Something about work has just been exhausting lately, so I didn’t feel the least bit bad about sleeping in again and not stepping outside until after 2 in the afternoon. I could have mowed the grass, but I figured it could wait until Sunday. With Alaya staying at her father’s, there wasn’t a little baby around needing our attention or entertainment.

Eventually, I made a little brunch: chorizo potato hash with a fried egg. Lola had really been craving my version of this meal, so I obliged. The only thing I changed was the type of potato I used—but honestly, I’m probably the only one who even noticed.

Saturday afternoon was spent bouncing around town.

I went to Hobby Lobby for a bit with Yvette and Lola. I saw a lot I wanted, but I showed extreme restraint and walked away empty-handed. I really have no need for more pumpkins. They make it so difficult, though, with that 40% off special on everything. Damn them for trying to make a sale!

My mother and her friends were out enjoying a little reunion, so my next mission was to check on her doggies. I’m so happy for my mom and her friends—I hope that when I’m their age, I can still go out and have fun like that. It’s rather heartwarming.

I’ve been trying to give them space to fully enjoy themselves and reflect on the past. I hate to intrude, but part of me wishes I could be around to get to know them better and hear some old stories. Honestly, they’ve been so busy catching up, I probably wouldn’t have had a moment to visit anyway—and that’s a good thing. My mom originally tried to get out of doing the whole reunion weekend, but she was having so much fun that she just kept going along with the events.

Eventually, I found myself at the lily park—it’s where I always end up. It looked like they were finally starting to tame the ponds. I’d thought they looked way too overgrown on my last few visits. Ever since Ken Landon—the longtime caretaker and heart of the pond—passed away, the place has really needed some love and attention. Lilyfest is just a week away, so I guess they’re trying to get on top of it.

On Sunday, I woke up and made breakfast: some pan-seared potatoes, grilled sausage and bacon, and eggs cooked to everyone’s liking. I turned it all into little breakfast tacos.

I had a few tasks ahead of me for the day, the first being the fucking yard. I really didn’t want to tackle it. I made some coffee and tried to pump myself up for the challenge. Thank the Lord it wasn’t too hot—small blessings. I mowed, I hedged, I cleaned up. I mixed up a very strong weed poison and went after the god-awful clover. This was my third attempt at annihilation. The resilient bastard just didn’t want to die. Fuck them.

Later, I went out to my mother’s and visited with her about her fun-filled weekend. She and her friends had a great time catching up and attending events together. It was honestly inspirational to hear her talk about it. I really hope I’m still capable of things like that when I reach my 70s.

And with that, the weekend was over. I’m not even sure how the rest of Sunday blew past me. I had a few horror movies playing in the background and made a little dinner for myself, but I didn’t do much else.

The week started off well. I was convinced that I had Staff Senate, but I was actually a week ahead of schedule. Monday was Owen’s 7th birthday, and he was a little pampered by me—as much as I can pamper that dog, at least. He did get a raw egg for his birthday dinner. When eggs weren’t so expensive, I used to give my dogs a raw egg every Sunday. Now, like many things, they’re reserved for special occasions.

The rest of the week in a few words:
Tuesday – we had a dinner guest. Dinner for eight.
Wednesday – morning meeting. Be complacent.
Thursday – experimental flu shot. Money in my pocket.
Friday – both dogs had a vet appointment. Difficulty.

Let me back up to Wednesday.

We had to attend a special on-campus meeting about the assassination of Charlie Kirk. The purpose of the meeting was to remind everyone that what they say or do in a public forum reflects on the state entity that which they work for—and that it can cost them their jobs, even if it falls under your First Amendment right to freedom of speech.

I assumed that was common knowledge, but apparently it needed reiterating. You can’t go around being an asshole off work. Say or do whatever you want. Employers have and an image to uphold. Many people did not realize this. In the state of Texas a lot of jobs have been lost in the last week over this insane bullshit—because it doesn’t align with the current “government” ideology. Often easier to let someone go than have an image tarnished.

Now, if you put yourself out there, you might have to face the consequences. That’s just how it is. Be it losing friends, being let go from your job, or—God forbid—having violence committed against you. It’s a risky choice.  Many people will likely disagree with you..  One should expect that.

But that’s the people, not the government, making those choices.  When the Governor of the state of Texas is calling for students to be expelled and employee’s fired. When the President of the USA is pressuring media silence on those that he disagrees with… What the hell has happened to this country? 

Freedom of speech.

It feels like it’s dying a slow death.

I don’t want anyone I disagree with to ever be silenced. Opposition should always have a voice. That’s what keeps us from living in echo chambers—hearing only the voices and opinions we already agree with. It’s healthy to take a dose of disagreement. Even better if some kind of bridged understanding can be built between two opposing forces.

That is free speech.  That is the First. Fucking. Amendment.

Free speech has always been about one thing: preventing the goddamn government from controlling the conversation. Public backlash, boycotts, online mobs—those can be harsh and unfair, but they aren’t violations of the First Amendment.

The real threat comes when the state itself uses its muscle to muzzle.

And make no mistake—that is what we’re seeing.

If we don’t call it out, if we don’t defend the right to speak even when we hate the words, then we’re not just losing the argument. We’re losing the very fucking freedom that allows us to argue in the first place.

In other words, we’re fucked.

Now you all go and have yourselves a nice fucking Friday. Cheers!

Horror Season 2025

IT (2017–2019).

I grew up terrified of the 1990 TV mini-series, mainly because of Tim Curry’s take on Pennywise the Clown—it was pure nightmare fuel. As a child, that film was incredibly effective. Imagine a monster that can manifest all your worst fears in a way that could harm you? Terrifying. The source material was always strong, and the story was more than ready for a modern update.

Then along came Andy Muschietti, who I think did a superb job. I know a lot of people groaned at the very idea of a remake. These were people with an intense sense of nostalgia for the original—and nostalgia is often blinding. I was guilty of it too. Even though I knew the original was flawed, I was apprehensive about a remake, mainly because—who in the world could possibly top Tim Curry?

Rewatching IT (1990) now, it’s clearly not nearly as scary as it felt when I was a kid—and the second half of the film is honestly boring. It’s dated, and aside from Curry, the acting is terrible. Muschietti had one hell of a job ahead of him.

In the original adaptation, so much material was left on the cutting room floor. For a made-for-TV movie, they did well with what they had at their disposal, but I had read the (very, very) long novel twice, so I knew what was missing. I also knew that not everything in the book could—or should—be adapted to the screen. Some of it would be nearly impossible to portray, and other sections were just too weird or distracting. King needed his own cutting board. With this knowledge, I knew Muschietti had to strike a delicate balance.

The biggest challenge was finding the right actor to play Pennywise. Tim Curry’s unnerving version was iconic, and the last thing anyone wanted was a cheap imitation. What the film needed was a completely fresh take.

Enter Bill Skarsgård.

Much like how I initially doubted Heath Ledger as the Joker, I wasn’t convinced at first by Skarsgård’s casting. But when the first trailer dropped, I knew he was the right choice. Curry played the part more sadistic—like he got off on scaring the crap out of the kids. Skarsgård played Pennywise more feral and twitchy, like a drug addict needing his fix. The fear he took from the kids was his drug—like meth. He needed to feed on it to survive.

The novel is split between the perspectives of the children and their adult counterparts. To make the first film convincing, a strong cast of child actors was absolutely essential. Somehow, Muschietti pulled it off. Not a single child actor was a weak link—each had strong screen presence. Since the first film (Chapter One) is the part most fans adore, casting those kids well was a major win. Even without the scares Pennywise manifested, I would have enjoyed a movie based solely on the chemistry between the young actors. The very R-rated dialogue made them feel so much more believable.

The next challenge was making Chapter Two as engaging as Chapter One. Almost everyone agrees that the child-focused sections of the book are the best parts. It was the best part of the 1990 version too. Muschietti cleverly saved enough of the kids’ material for the second film, which gave us flashbacks that added depth. He also cast some top-tier actors as the adult versions: Jessica Chastain, James McAvoy, Bill Hader—excellent choices. A major reason the second half of the 1990 film failed was that the acting wasn’t believable or even engaging.

All in all, the films pull it off. Fans of the original can appreciate what Muschietti did with the source material. The films include scenes that had never translated to screen before, which keeps things fresh, while also updating fan-favorite moments with care. It worked. While some of the CGI can be a little distracting at times, it wasn’t overused or overbearing. I was able to overlook it in favor of enjoying a well-made adaptation.

Watching both films back-to-back over the weekend was no small undertaking—it was about a five-hour journey. I was entertained. I still enjoy the parts of the films with the children the most, but unlike the 1990 version, Muschietti was able to make the adults’ story engaging too. I do believe he accomplished his goals and exceeded many expectations.

As a horror fan, I was happy—finally happy—with a film translation of a book that frightened me more than almost any other.

Jalapeño.

Grilled tuna tacos with mango salsa.

Red chicken enchilada bowl topped with an over easy egg.

Grilled hoisin chicken thigh with leftover rice and broccoli.

Shrimp po boy.

Chicken fajita quesadilla.

Pollo Chile Verde taco bowl.

The good steak.

This blog is all over the place, like me. Chasing squirrels.

Waking up Saturday, it felt like waking up to a new season.  The weather was perfect—overcast with cool temperatures. I decided it was finally the day to put up all the fall decorations, once and for all. Yvette and Alaya went over to my in-laws’ for some menudo, so there really wasn’t a better time to get them out. Alaya would have been very interested in what I was doing—bless her—but that would’ve made things a bit more complicated.

I decked the house out in pumpkins. The gods must have inspired me to feel autumnal, because I was even able to live-stream the Texas Tech football game on HBO Max. Nothing sets the mood for fall quite like pumpkins, cool cloudy weather, and college football. I made a cup of coffee, curled up in my chair, and proceeded to bask in the glory of pumpkin season.

The first Ram Jam of the 2025 fall semester.  We had a tradition to uphold, and attending was non-negotiable. This year, though, things were a little different. The event was under new oversight—Special Events had taken over for Alumni after the campus absorbed the Alumni Association. As an experienced attendee, I definitely noticed the changes. It was not as smooth an operation—but that’s not surprising. Nothing the campus touches ever runs smoothly.

One of the most noticeable changes was how alcohol was managed at the Alumni Center. If you had a drink outside, you could not bring it into the building. If you wanted one while inside, you could order it there, but then you could not take it back outside. It made zero sense. Honestly, I think it only encouraged me to drink more—because if we were going outside, like hell I was leaving an unfinished drink behind.

The turnout was great, and the weather was just about as perfect as it could get. And the food… I love the returning vendors. One of them always has the best damn ribs. Every year, that is one of the highlights. I think I must have had four by the time we left. Let me just say—I ate very well.

We also walked away with a bunch of free shirts. Had I known years ago how many freebies they give out at Ram Jam, I would have never bought a university t-shirt. That Saturday alone, I walked away with three new shirts—and this was just the first Ram Jam of the year.

Sunday was another lazy day.  We slept in. It was nice. I got roasted by the family for being a bottomless pit—I guess I ate about half the leftover pizza. I knew I had some, but I did not realize how much. Oops. Apparently Teegan wanted leftovers for lunch. To make up for it, I found some ground beef and made two burgers.

Later, I curled up in my chair and put on the movie Hostiles. It is a Western that came out not that long ago—well, actually, almost 10 years ago. For fuck’s sake, I am getting old. The years are flying by. 2017 does not feel that long ago, but it sure as shit is a long time ago.

When it first came out, I remember liking it, but I do not think I was really in the mood at the time. It was released the same month my father passed away, and I remember thinking how much I would have liked watching it with him. I appreciate the film much more today.

Anyway, I digress. Such an amazing cast. I love Christian Bale as Captain Blocker and Wes Studi as Yellow Hawk. Two great actors with incredible presence. Studi has been a force ever since I first saw him in The Last of the Mohicans over thirty years ago. He has portrayed many iconic Native American roles since then.

Beautifully directed by Scott Cooper, Hostiles is set in 1892 during the American-Indian Wars. It explores the oppression of Native Americans and the brutality inflicted on both sides. The white settlers were absolutely the worst in their treatment of the Native people. There can be no forgiveness for the crimes committed against them.

The film does not shy away from showing how awful humans can be to one another. Children die. Women are raped. It is the worst of humanity in a nutshell. A gut-punch of reality. But it is also a story about the possibility of transformation—about how shared experience and understanding can change people.

Blocker and Yellow Hawk have both committed atrocities against each other’s people in the name of what they believed. Sworn enemies, now forced to work together for a common cause. It’s a journey toward redemption and mutual understanding. At the end of the day, we are all fundamentally the same—despite the different doctrines we live by. This is relative right now in this country.

Monday was a real pisser. It was my first week back on office duty since mid-July, and I was restless. I hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before—Yvette and I had stayed up watching a movie way past our bedtime, which made for a groggy day for both of us. I powered through with as much convention as I could muster. Office weeks make me feel like a bird with clipped wings.

After work, I took Teegan’s car to have the tires checked. Yvette noticed that the rear passenger tire looked a little low. The guys at Discount Tire found a screw while checking the gauge. Typical. Lucky for us, it was fixable. Nine out of ten times, the damage is in the sidewall, and you’re screwed. At least something was in my favor on this dreadful Monday. I know—how dramatic.

The family plumber arrived Tuesday during my lunch break. We had a leaking bathtub faucet that needed attention. Luckily, it was a relatively easy fix—though still expensive for the plumber’s time. He’s been fixing our family’s plumbing for 40 years, starting with my parents. It’s funny—I’ve known him for such a long time. I wasn’t even in elementary school when my parents first had him over, and now I’m the one calling him for my own plumbing needs, all these years later.

The man is now 75 years old and has no plans to retire if he can help it.

Oh, the joys of mounting expenses. I’m really getting sick of all these financial obligations. There’s my medical bills, the damn tree limb situation, and now the plumbing. I’m struggling to keep my head above water with these added expenses that just keep sneaking into my life. I swear, as soon as you get one thing taken care of and checked off your list, another one shows up to take its place. Everything is already too damn expensive, and these added costs make the struggle a wicked bitch to overcome.

A little seriousness now.

I try not to get overtly political in these blogs. Who wants that? Politics is shoved in our faces from every direction. But the events of this week have left me unable to look away. It’s been on my mind: the targeted and fatal shooting of Charlie Kirk on Wednesday afternoon.

I had not even heard the name of this man before, and yet the country is suddenly in an uproar over his tragic death. Killing someone over a disagreement is unacceptable. It will never be acceptable. Civil discourse is always an option. A disagreement—especially over politics—should never result in violence.

This wasn’t orchestrated—at least, not as far as we know. It wasn’t “the right vs. the left.” It wasn’t an attack by a collective group sharing an ideology. It was one man. One incredibly unwell and intensely radicalized individual. So let’s stop pretending this is a party issue. I know plenty of Republicans who would never dream of doing this. I know plenty of Democrats who would never dream of doing this. To blame an entire side is lazy, divisive, and flat-out wrong. Let’s not fall into the trap of listening to our so-called “Dear Leader”, who seems hell-bent on sowing division at every opportunity.

Talk about division, Trump ordered flags to fly at half-mast in response to Charlie Kirk’s murder. Depending on one’s political views, Kirk was either seen as a great man or a deeply controversial piece of shit. Or like me, a total unknown. But here’s my problem: flags are meant to be lowered to half-mast when the entire nation is in mourning—typically for government officials, national tragedies, or foreign dignitaries. In this case, neither condition applies. Was it horrific? Yes. But gun violence happens every single day in this country. If we’re not doing anything to stop it, then by that logic, the flag should always be at half-mast—not just when a friend of the our president is killed. If it’s someone that disagrees with the Trump, he sure doesn’t fly flags half-mast when they are targeted for murder. The way the government responded to the event highlighted its bias.

What we as a country need to do, as a favor to one another, is pull our heads out of our asses and come together in moments of tragedy. That’s how it should be. Instead, everyone began spewing vitriol at each other. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, given the hatred that pours out of our president’s mouth whenever he opens it. He was already blaming the “radical left” for Charlie Kirk’s death before the facts were even known. There wasn’t even a suspect in custody and Trump was already fueling ignorance with more hate.

“Lead by example”? What a joke. Trump is the embodiment of what we shouldn’t want in a leader. It’s hard to believe I once thought he could possibly help the country. I was wrong.

To say the least, I was disappointed by many people’s reactions, otherwise I wouldn’t have written this portion of my blog.

Doing my own research into Charlie Kirk, I found him to be a polarizing figure. But that doesn’t change the fact that what happened to him was horrible. Just fucking horrible.  Charlie Kirk didn’t deserve this. His family didn’t deserve this. Now, they are the ones who must suffer because of senseless violence. I sincerely wish the fighting would end and that we could all come together for the common good. 

The reactions since have been equally heartbreaking—from both sides of the political spectrum.

People on the left celebrating his death? You’re almost as awful as the man who pulled the trigger. People on the right calling for war against “the libs,” as if one shooter represents millions of people? That’s equally disgusting.

Our response to tragedy defines our character. And right now, I really worry about what this says about our country.

I want more empathy in this country. Not bitterness. Not hypocrisy. Not selective outrage or exploitation. I still have faith in people—that we are all inherently good at heart. That we are capable of grace, even when we disagree.  I know that we are. Please, prove me right.

After the events of the day Yvette and I went for happy hour and fried mushrooms. We needed a break from the world. Such heavy bullshit.

Horror season 2025 is here!

What a time! My favorite time of the year. It’s no surprise that it also happens during autumn, when the temperatures drop and pumpkins are aplenty. 

I decided to kick off the season with the first official film: The Cabin in the Woods. A great horror-comedy that throws all tropes out the window. I love how it features a major twist that was never actually hidden from the viewer—it’s introduced right at the beginning. Somehow, the previews never once spoiled it. I’ll say little more about the plot because I’d hate to be the person who spoiled a thirteen-year-old film for someone.

I still remember seeing this one for the first time in the theater. I only had a vague idea of what to expect. I’ve always loved horror films set in remote locations, but what I got was so much more. That Nine Inch Nails song blasting during the credits—and the goosebumps I had? What a great feeling. It was fresh horror that I devoured.

The film was released in the spring of 2012. If I recall correctly, not many good horror movies were getting wide theatrical releases at the time. If you wanted to find horror, you had to hunt it down on  video or get lucky and find it streaming on Netflix. The other option was to purchase it from Amazon or Apple. That was about all we had back in the day. I kind of miss the simplicity.

The Cabin in the Woods ranks high on my list of most enjoyable horror films. It’s just a fun ride you want to climb back on, especially because it benefits from multiple viewings.

Seemed appropriate to kick the season off with a banger.

Try and have a happy Friday!!

Jalapeño.

Pork ribeye with raspberry chipotle sauce, roasted Brussel sprouts and yellow potatoes.

Tacos el pastor.

Cajun dirty rice. Yvette’s treat.

Caribbean pork.

Stuffed potato. BBQ pulled pork. Corn. . Jalapeno. Fuck, everything.

Grilled chicken sandwich with sweet potato fries.