Word Vomit.

I've been trying to figure out why I've been avoiding writing lately. It isn't that I don't have anything to say, or that I've lost interest, or anything like that. I still want to write and I have tons of stuff going on. There’s the new house, the new puppy, stuff at work, etc. Tons of stuff! It’s just, every time I think about dropping a few lines (HOLLA!!!) I just... can't. I've started composing posts in my head more than a few times and, as soon as I sit down to write... nothing.

Like I said, I got stuff going on.. and thangs... s-stuff 'n thangs.

Why is it that, as bloggers who basically chronicle even the smallest and most inane (okay, maybe I'm just referring to myself with that one) aspects of our lives, the things that should provide us with excellent material for our posts end up actually keeping us from posting. I'm talking about all the really big things. We always talk about life getting in the way.

At the end of the day, though, these big things aren't as blog-worthy as you'd think. Take my stuff... and things... for example:

NEW HOME:  You'd think becoming a homeowner for the first time would be a big enough of a deal that you'd get tons of blog fodder from the experience. Right? But, after you say, “Hey, guys, I'm buying a house,” there really isn't much more you can add to the story and still keep it interesting:

- got approved for house.

- went and saw the house.

- signed all the legal documents.

- frantically trying to scrape up the down payment because they called us earlier than expected to do the closing.

That's it. Sure, it's mostly good news but  BOR-ING!

MARRIAGE: All good! Mrs C and I had our eleventh wedding anniversary on Sunday. We didn't make a big deal about it (we had pizza and wine as our celebratory meal - 'cause that's how we roll) so there isn't really much to tell there.

WORK: I started my new contract three weeks ago and will be gainfully employed for another two years (YAY!)...

They left me at the same desk they put me on while I was on loan to help with the - now stalled -White Paper project. Essentially, no one bothered to think about moving be back to my old desk or to anywhere else where I could be more productive so I'm just sitting around most days trying to keep myself busy (BOO!) It seems like a big deal on the surface but what else is there for me to say about that situation that would be worth mentioning (and not just end up becoming a swear-laden rant)?

SCHOOL: At the end of this semester, I'll have my Associate's degree and be at the halfway point to earning my Bachelor's degree. Sure it's more like two-thirds the way since it took me twice as long as it should have to get this far when I changed majors. But I made it. It's great... huge, actually, but I'm particularly inclined to do a practice valedictorian speech (I'm not giving any at school either, thankfully) about it.

PUPPY: Still there, still cute, eats her poop, thinks shoes are chew toys. Nothing new to report.

"I think my cuteness deserves a little more mentioning than that."

The more I think about it, the more I realize it really is the little things that matter. I think I've been stressing so much about writing about each of these big things and giving them their proper place of importance with grand, well worded posts, filled with humor and excitement that I forgot that inane is what I do best. Maybe now that I've listed all these and got them out of the way I'll be able to get back to business as usual.

We'll see.

Deflated.

The only time I get to leave the house these days are for my morning sessions at the gym. Early mornings there aren't very crowded. I usually see the same five guys there most mornings. There are a few women regulars too, but they spend most of their time on the aerobics floor.

We all basically do our own thing, unless someone needs help and sometimes we talk about the news, or the weather or some other meaningless crap... Just your basic guy stuff I guess. Everyone gets along and normally we all have a pretty good workout.

When it comes to the free weights, there are some guys there who lift more than I do, but it's not by much. It gives me a goal to chase. I can tell myself that, with a little more work I can work up to that level. Then there are one or two who aren't lifting as much weight as I am. So I can safely say I'm somewhere in the middle. But, all-in-all though, everyone's pretty average - no superheroes - and, by the end of our individual workouts, you could say we all leave pretty confident in our progress:

Great workout! Catch ya later, Eddie.
source

Thus, peace and harmony reigned in the land and all was good... Well... it was good... Before the day he walked in...

source

No one knows his name, or where he came from. I think we're all too afraid to talk to him. And with good reason, seeing as he's about three times my size - height and width. Yeah... he's big. His first day there he walked up to the rack of free weights...

From this rack he selected the three heaviest pairs. Those are the 95, 85 and 75 pound dumbbells. Nobody ever used those before! I always thought they were for display. I tried to lift one of the 95lb ones once, but it never budged, so, I just assumed they were welded down or something (logical conclusion, right?). I normally go with something lighter, anyway.

See that little 20 pounder over there in the middle? That one's mine. Isn't she cute?!

Anyway, the big guy takes the dumbbells over to a free bench and lines them up on the floor like he's spreading out a meal. Then he sits down and emasculates us curls each set of weights, rests like 5 seconds and does it all over again... THREE TIMES... by himself (not that any one of us could have helped him if he did need it). 

The rest of us continued our own workout while trying not to stare (we failed miserably, by the way). Eventually, he finished his set and walked over to the machines. As he did so, he looked over at us, smiled and said, "S'up, fellas?"

I don't know I he was genuinely being friendly or just a smug asshole, but what I do know is by the end of that morning, we weren't quite as confident in our progress as we normally were.

source: YouTube

Wordless Wednesday: They Only Come Out At Night.

I Survived Carnival 2012! And All I Got Was Partial Hearing Loss.

As I've said before, Carnival here in T&T isn't my thing. Unfortunately, it's a big deal to mostly everyone else so, in the media, it's "all hands on deck!" whether you like it or not.

Monday at 4 am was the official start to things with J'Ouvert. And, wouldn't you know it? I was lucky enough to get that shift. So, leaving my warm bed and loving wife at 2:30 that morning, I journeyed to St. James to spend the next 5 hours watching the seemingly endless masses of people dance in the streets covered in body paint and/or mud and/or chocolate (new this year). Since my phone doesn't do nighttime pictures well I waited until there was some light in the sky to snap a photo.

Nope, not blood. Just paint.

But that's not all. Carnival's main celebrations last two days. So that means, of course, I was out again yesterday. Yesterday was the BIG show: The "Parade of the Bands"! This is when masqueraders are out on the streets in full costume following the incredibly loud, incredibly large Music Trucks.

Yes, those are a shitload of speakers.

As you can guess those things are really loud. Where I was assignred I had to stand about 20 feet from where they set up and, even with ear plugs, I still haven't gotten my full hearing back yet.

There were some interesting displays, though.

Gaaahh!!! Mantisra's attacking!

But that's not all. Do you believe that through it all I had to put up with being surrounded by sights like this all day:

I know, right? Can you imagine? They're called "revellers" and they were everywhere!

You don't want to meet up with them unprepared. They are quite apt at performing the traditional Carnival dance known as "wining", which I believe translates to "impossibly loose waistlines that can rotate in any direction". The female reveller is especially ravenous and looking for any posterior to throw their own posteriors against to"wine" against.

The guy in the hat is my photographer for this assignment.

The average female reveller will wine on anything: Male revellers (preferably), police officers, street signs, onlookers, other female revellers, nothing and no one is out of bounds. Here's a brief clip of them in action (I suggest keeping the volume low. Plus, all the bass from the truck did a number on the sound quality):

One time during the day, I was getting a quote from a spectator and the next thing I know I was totally surrounded by them. Luckily, I managed to get back to the barrier before any gyrating waistlines got me. I was so scared.

I still don't know if my photographer made it out okay. He never came back to the office. Too bad. I liked him.

Today the paper are sending me to the Maracas beach to cover the after-Carnival cooldown concert. It's the most popular spot for revellers to go to continue wearing bikinis and partying for one more day.

Those bastards!

The Adventures Continue.

Wow! I haven't posted all week. Well... here anyway. Hope you guys have been keeping up with me on Sprocket Ink. You know? That place where I post, not once, but twice every week. You do remembered that, right?

We'll discuss this later.

Anyway, moving right along, My absence is due to the fact that I've been really busy. While I have my issues with The Paper, I must admit, I still love the job. Right now, the people of T&T are gearing up for our biggest annual celebration, Carnival. The fact that it's such a huge event here means the media is burning the midnight oil to cover all the events associated with these holidays.

Parties have been going on for the past few weeks but the real deal, the two days of half naked street parades are next Monday and Tuesday, so things are really heating up this weekend.

Now, I said last year around this time that Carnival isn't my thing. Mostly because never really saw the point of it. A lot of people here wouldn't agree with that. They see it as part of local culture. It's one of the most famous events in the world and something we as a nation should be proud of and all that What can I say?  I never was a party person, to be honest.

This is where my being a Christian helps. The whole concept of revelry and drunken debauchery is frowned upon in the Christian faith. Now while I won't jump on my moral high-horse about the evils of this season, I must admit, I kinda see the argument...

Eep! I think it sees me.

So once I say that Carnival doesn't interest me, the first thing I usually hear is, "Oh... Are you a Christian?" I say yes and the discussion usually ends there.

But, my religious beliefs don't save me from having to work covering Carnival events on those two days next week I'd normally be home resting any other year. As well as the events leading up to them. Like today.

Today I covered a children's Carnival parade focusing on the traditional characters that were among the first Carnival characters portrayed in T&T's early history. While I still don't get it, I have to admit, they really are creative. Take the Moko Jumbies, for instance.

These kids walk (and dance) on stilts with no trouble at all. Better than most people walk and dance on their own feet.

Then there's this group of Dame Lorraines.

In case you're wondering, yes they are fake... and children! Shame on you!

They did a choreographed traditional  dance routine (Sorry, couldn't start taping before it ended).

While I was out covering the story, it started to rain so I went into the nearby Woodford Square. There I managed to capture what we call a "Rhythm Section" on video, doing there thing.

We are a creative bunch over here, aren't we? All the same, don't expect me to be crossing over to the dark side as a result of all this. They'll have to try a lot harder.

Did I mention the grown-up version next week will have half-naked women prancing about everywhere? Most of whom have been hitting the gym for months to look right in their skimpy costumes?

Anyway, I'm covering some of the main events on Monday and Tuesday too so you can probably expect more pics and videos.

Insert Funny Here: Part 2

Just like the last time, I'll let you do the talking...

After you're done, you can head on over to my post on Sprocket Ink.

Annnnnnd go!

Insert Funny Here.

I saw this in a local newspaper last week. Just to get it out of the way, yes, they were being sold as food. No, I’ve never had the (dis)pleasure.

source

UGH!

But still, grim fate of these reptiles aside, the picture is funny. There are so many things I could say about this picture. But I prefer to let you guys have a go at it.

Think of it as a caption game.

Feel free to play along.

Adventures In Journalism.

I'll say one thing. This job is a real adventure. On any given day, you never know where you'll end up. The other day, I got to go on one of these.

Cool, right?

Then, that same evening I was at a fancy Christmas party for the local architects' association. And of all the people I'd run into there, I met my former nemeses employers, (former) Bossman and (former) Bosslady.

(former) Bosslady played it cool, but (former) Bossman was a little surprised to see me there. I took the high road and refrained from my whole "BOOYAH!!! In your face, motherf*cker!" routine I'd always fantasized about. For good measure I interviewed him too.

Then, earlier this week, I had to go look at a landslide on the north coast heading toward Maracas Bay. I hadn't been in that area in a really long time. When you spend all your time in the mostly built-up areas, you forget just how tropical the tropical island you live on really is.

Then you spend an hour and a half travelling through this.

And you say, "Oh... right..."

It may look scary but it's actually really peaceful and scenic. Actually the photographer who was driving called this stretch the "scenic route". I was so caught up with the view at times I ended up sticking my phone out the photographer's car and snapping pictures like a tourist. In the end we wound up here:

I think I hear dueling banjos. No, wait! This is Trinidad. Maybe dueling steel-pans?

It was still raining and there was a light mist hanging. On one side of the road we had the mountainside rising above us. On the other side was the steep drop where the mountain continued. There was so much water flowing down the mountain from the rains it made a small river flowing down the other side.

I was caught up in the beauty of it all for a bit, but then it occurred to me that all this water could trigger another landslide. Then I wondered if there could be snakes as big as the one in the picture I posted a few days ago. That's when I told the photographer I'd wait in the car.

The next day I was back in the city checking out stores to find out how their Christmas sales were going. And I have no idea where I'll be tomorrow.

It's awesome.

Me Vs Nature.

Pastelles are a Christmas tradition here in T&T. For those of you who don't know, they're these steamed, meat-filled, cornmeal pies. The traditional way is to cook them wrapped in banana leaves. They're awesome!

Mrs. C makes kick-ass pastelles. She actually used to make extra money at Christmastime selling them. She doesn't make them for sale any more. Too much work. We would often lose an entire night's sleep to make them. She still makes more than enough for us and to give out to a few friends and relatives, though.

But as I was saying, banana leaves are required. They're not a must. You can wrap them in foil, but my wife's adamant about doing it the old fashioned way. She says it enhances the flavor. All I know is they taste great. Who am I to argue?

When I wrote about where I'm from I said it wasn't uncommon to have banana trees in the average Trini's yard. But there are exceptions and most of the places we've lived in the past didn't. This meant me having to go around to neighbors to get leaves.

But this year I got lucky. There isn't just one banana tree in the yard of our new apartment, there are two. So this time I don't have to go around to the neighbors to get leaves. Plus, free bananas! Win-win, right?

Well, it looks like someone has other plans. The other day I went to the back yard to check on the condition of the trees I'd soon be pillaging for leaves. I also wanted to check on the three bunches of bananas that were growing too. That's when I noticed a slight hitch in the plans.

It seems a small Ground Dove has set up a nest in one of the banana bunches. Needless to say, I wanted to share this so I decided to get a picture. I went back yesterday morning to get one and the mom flew off in fear and abandoned her babies.

I question her parenting skills.

This did, however, give me a change to scope out the nest. And I took pics.

For some reason I feel like saying, "Crikey! Those are beauts!"

Um... Occupied.

I checked this morning and the did mom come back. Apparently she was in a calmer mood because she didn't fly off this time.

What the..! You again?!

Awwww... So cute, right?

Well cuteness aside, this poses two problems:

1. I need leaves later this week. I don't want to disrupt their home but there's no way I'm missing out on my wife's pastelles or going around the neighborhood for leaves for this.
2. I kinda had my eye on those bananas. They're the ones most likely to be ripe first.

I need to figure this out.

Birds! Why id it always birds?!

Reconsidering [WARNING: There’s A Picture Of A Really Big S.N.A.K.E.]

You were warned…

Even here in the tropics you can get tired of the city life sometimes. When that happens, I imagine things would be better if we moved to country…

Then someone posts a picture like this on Facebook

I don’t know if this really was taken here.

Frankly, I don’t want to know.

Wordless Wednesday - I Got A Phone Call And...

Where I'm From.

I am from the birthplace of steelpan, from Charles chocolate candies and Solo soft drinks.

I am from the warm and sunny tropics where temperatures can range anywhere between 26 to 34 degree (celsius). I am from where you're bound to find a mango/coconut/banana trees growing in most yards (sometimes all of them together).

I am from the Chaconia, the Northern Range, the Pitch Lake and Buccoo Reef.

source

I am from an evening walk to the ice-cream parlor. I am from macaroni pie or roti or pelau on a Sunday.

Pelau courtesy: Mrs. C.

I am from the sibling disagreements that melted away even more quickly than they started and from not holding grudges.

From "Respect yuh elders" and "Always tell yuh neighbors, good morning".

I am from church on a Sunday morning. And you had to make the weekly trip to the market first.

I am from ice-cold coconut water (right out of the coconut) around Queen's Park Savannah and doubles in Curepe.

From the neighborhood children playing cricket or small-goal football in the street after school, from a culture created from the combining of Africa, India, Spain, England, China, Syria and more countries than I can name in this post.

I am from the old photos (way more than all the albums could hold) that were on the top of the old bedroom wardrobe. Safely hidden away from young, destructive hands but still close enough to get whenever that relative you hadn't seen in ages visited.

A few great bloggers I follow (like her, her and him) have been started doing this and I decided to join in. There's a template too (which I didn't follow 100%) that can be found here

No, no, no! I'm Not *That* Vinny C.

It has come to my attention that I've become a victim of identity theft. Okay, I'm exaggerating. But it's still a case mistaken identity.

See, there's this show on MTV called America's Best Dance Crew and one of the dance groups this season (I think. I don't watch it) is a group called ICONic Boyz (with a "z", of course). Among the members is a kid named Vincent Castronovo. Young Vincent is apparently quite popular and is sometimes referred to as...

Vinny C.

Yeah, I know. Crazy, right?

And that's about much research as I did on this show.

Anyway, this other Vinny C has his own Facebook fan page, twitter and tumblr accounts. There is apparently a fan site too called "F*ck Yeah Vinny C" (which is a little too much enthusiasm, if you ask me). Now it seems his fans, in a desperate search to attach themselves to anything Vincent Castronovo, have been sniffing around and following to my Twitter account.

I've got nothing against the kid so if any of his loyal fans read this, please stifle the overwhelming urge to blast me with angry comments in his defense. I'm just saying, I'm not him. If this still offends you then you're beyond any help I (or anyone else besides maybe a therapist) can offer.

That being said, I'd like to take the time to inform these misdirected fans that they should observe the obvious differences between the young Mr. Castronovo and myself before following my tweets only to realize your mistake a few days later and dropping me like a soiled jockstrap.

Vincent Castronovo:

Source

Me: 

Take a few seconds. Get a good look. For those who may still be unclear, I'll guide you to the obvious differences:

- I've been told I look young for my age but, still, I'm not 12-years-old. I know he isn't really 12 (Probably), but I don't watch the show and don't care enough to go find out. I have a wife and, until recently, I also had a job... with a desk... where I had to wear a shirt. One that did not involve spinning back-flips on a stage.

- I do not now, or ever will, EVER, have a mohawk or fohawk or whateverthehell it's called. Not.happening. EVER! Don't even ask.

- I'm black. Well, mostly. I'd think that should be a dead giveaway right there.

- I can't dance. Not if my life depended on it. I've got two left feet that step on each other and just get a passing grade in getting me from point A to point B. That's how uncoordinated I am.

- I don't do jazz hands (or even a lone jazz hand) in my photos. One day, maybe. But not today.

So, to all you Vincent Castronovo fans out there, in your feverish stampede to get close to this young man, please take a moment to stop, take a breath, compose yourselves, mop the sweat from your brow and take a good look at the profile of the person you're about to follow.

Thank you and good day to you all. 

I'm Going Naked Today - Don't Get Your Hopes Up.

While I'm sure the title is bound to attract a flurry of curious onlookers, let's get one thing clear from the start.

The title's totally misleading.

Before you leave though, there is a reason I gathered all... 2 of you here. My first ever guest post! The awesome Kelly from  Naked Girl In A Dress, one of my Sprocket Ink partners in crime, asked me to do a guest post on her blog and I was psyched to accept. So that's where I am today.

As I said this is my first time doing a guest post on someone else's blog so, go ahead and check it out here. There's nothing more to see on this blog today anyway.

That's it...

What? Still disappointed about the title let-down? Guys, it was just a...

Sigh! Okay. if you insist. But just this one time. Here'a a pic of me in the tub.

Ready?

GAAH! Dammit, Ma! Can't you see I'm takin' a bath here!

Gotcha! Now get on over and read my guest post.

This Enemy Mine, I Know Him Well. Soap Scum Is His Name.

I grew up a renter. My parents have never owned their own home. Still don't. As a result we - my parents, myself and my two younger sisters - have had to move from time to time. Now, a married man myself, I carry on the proud tradition of non-home ownership. I do intend to rectify this one day but that isn't the point of this story.

While I've made it clear before how much I think moving sucks, one of the things about it that bugs me more than anything else is...

The bathrooms.

Whenever I move into a new place I always have to come to terms with having to use a shower that was once regularly used by someone else. What makes this especially weird is that I don't really consider myself a germaphobe. As guys go, I'm as disgusting as any other, and proud of it. Of course, this wouldn't really be an issue it the shower was new and untouched by human gunk. But we all know how hard to find and costly virgin bathrooms are nowadays.

That last part read back kinda weird...

Anyway, The house we just moved into is - let's just say - on the more mature side. While the landlady did redo the entire kitchen, the shower was woefully as old as the rest of the place. It may have been cleaned after the previous tenants moved out but it wasn't by me and before I considered it fit for human (or at least "my") use I had to deal with it. These are the step-by-step events that took place that day:

- Getting my self physically and mentally prepared: I start with stretching. Then I do some quick shadow-boxing (Soap scum can be aggressive, you know) and give myself a good pep-talk and promise myself a drink for after I'm done.

- I assembled all the necessary items: bleach, detergent, disinfectant cleaner, bleach, bucket, scrub brush, tile and grout cleaner, bleach (I use sulfuric acid if they'd let me).

- Briefly, I give serious consideration to making a hazmat suit from garbage bags and rubber bands. Fortunately, good sense prevailed and the idea was abandoned. That and I didn't have enough rubber bands.

- When the actual cleaning process was underway, I realized that I was starting to feel a little lightheaded. This was from the high concentration of chlorine bleach I used in the cleaning mixture I concocted. After stepping out of the shower and getting some fresh air, I added some more bleach to the mixture and pressed on.

You can see why Mrs. C prefers I clean the shower. It get's done right!

Finally, I was finished. When I was done I felt like I needed a good shower. I removed my clothing (to be taken to a local crematorium for incineration, later) and stepped in, confident that the demons were exorcised. Then I saw it. There, right in front of me, in the teeniest hairline crack that was in this one tile.

Is that a tiny... brown... smudge?

Just Where Have you Been This Week? - I Was Hiding In The Fridge.

Wow, weekend just seem to come up so fast!

Let's begin:

- My first post this week was on Tuesday. It was my take on the Studio 30 Plus weekly prompt "Your Earliest Memory Of Your Own Birthday Party". It was a really weird one.

Of course, you too can join in on the S30P action... As long as you're a member, that is. And I'd expect that, if you are a blogger aged thirty and over, that you're already a member of this great group. Just makes sense.

Also on Tuesday, I also posted on Sprocket Ink about young, attractive Russian women willing to bare it all in the name of supporting their favorite political candidate.

- On Thursday I posted on Sprocket Ink again. This time about the gradually vanishing species known as the German Nudist.

Then I noticed that both my Sprocket stories had similar themes. This made me a bit concerned and I expressed those concerns back here.

- On Friday I wrote a letter of complaint to the sun for the unbearable heat I had to endure.

Interesting side note about this post: This afternoon I noticed this -

I honestly can't tell you why.

Anyway, seems like someone was paying attention because this morning I got a response to that letter:

Along with thunder! Then, as I was out doing errands this happened:

 And I was caught in it the entire time.

I'm wondering if I should build an ark or something.

Of course, I'm not fooling myself into believing that my letter was responsible for the change in weather. That would be ridiculous! I'm sure the weather would have changed whether I wrote it or not.

Hmm...

Dear National Lottery Board,

During my adult life I've purchased lottery tickets no less that eight times with no success. I find this unacceptable as, if anyone is deserving I must say that I am... 

Addressing The Weather.

Dear Sun,

As you well know, here in the country of Trinidad & Tobago, we are scheduled to be in the period known as the "Rainy Season" at this present time. This particular season runs from the 1st of June to the 31st of December. It is during this period in which we recover from the onslaught you would have inflicted upon us for the first six months of the year - the "Dry Season" - which is when you get to do your thing.

So, that being the case, I would appreciate some sort of explanation as to why, for almost every day for the past two weeks, I have been greeted by THIS:

Does that look like rain to you Sun? I think not. No, that's you, muscling in on Rain's allotted time. And it's safe to say that you are overdoing it since I have to have an electric fan on and in close proximity, day and night.

I know that this year you dropped the ball during your time and this dry season was, in fact, not all that dry. I understand if you feel cheated by this. That, however, does not warrant your present action of trying to interfere in Rain's business.

This behavior is unacceptable and I think I speak for everyone here in T&T, as well as those in other countries who are presently putting up with your presence, when I say to you, "YOU ARE NOT WANTED HERE!!!" I would kindly ask that you cease and desist from your present activity and let good sense prevail.

Thank you.

Vinny C.