Punch me, I bleed

When will I learn that thing about expectation?

Shit, probably not before you do.

I expected my brother to be here early enough for me to leave, to find a job, to be gainfully employed.

I expected to hear back from Beige Sugar after getting so much attention when I couldn't do anything about it.

I expected to hear from Juliet in the afternoon like she said, so I could de-bug her place.

I expected to see Spiderman 2 again and I did. That's what life does to you. Let's you expect a bunch of things and fulfills a couple so you keep thinking it works.

But like Eric Stoltz once mused, "How do you make God laugh?" Audience pauses. He continues, "Make a plan."

So true, old boy.

And the flip-side isn't just a void of not expecting, but rather that good things happen when you're open to them.

Like running into KinderCam today. I haven't seen that chick in well over a month but today while I sat peacefully drawing at the Cup, she strolled by. I winked but wearing Toc Lone sunglasses will conceal such things so she didn't notice and started to enter. An executive decision later, I was hootin' and hollerin', "Hey baby, you's lookin' good." That stopped her in her tracks. But her claws retracted when she realized it was me.

We talked for a while about life and whatnot. Decisions and declarations. It was good, too. I mention that because -- as Old Faithful can atest -- she has been one of the most painful people to be around in the past. Everything was always so bleak and despair wrought the sweet breeze of bar room air when she spoke.

Today, I found her cheerful but not estatic. She was a self-professed comfortable. Know what I say? Good for her.

So after offering her $10 an hour to dress slutty and walk around with me so I can look more studly, we said our goodbyes. Now, I'd actually look forward to talking to her again but without the lust motive attached.

Then I picked up supplies to begin my career in freelance pest control. With my tools in hand but no call yet from Juliet, I decided to see what the coffee at Waffle House was like in the afternoon.

Finally, Jules called and was eerily nearby. We headed to the so-called Wartown where I did a number on any and all home invaders who'd invaded her home or had plans to do so in the near future. From there, it was Shakey's Pizza -- and by the way, it is the last Shakey's this side of the Mississippi -- where we met up with Nancypants before catching the Spiderman.

Nancypants, I should mentioned, scared the ever-lovin' shit out of me by changing her photo to some nightmarish collage and her name. When I looked to see that Yumipantspants had told all the girls that I only loved her, I was frightened. This, I discussed with Nancypants.

Here's a quick review of the film for those who haven't contributed to the $180 million box office yet.

There are three different scenes with three separate functions that each alone would merit ME going to see the movie. The price of admission was well worth any of them.

The first is the operating room scene. It is so kick-ass old school Sam Raimi. Like enhaling all three Evil Dead movies and blowing their hypnotic action packed smoke all over the screen. It will be a wonderful day when I can have the DVD and treat myself to that one scene whenever I please. One word: chainsaw.

While that provided enough action for an entire movie (though the rest of the action scenes were wonderfully done and very exciting) and the humor abounds, there is one terribly funny segment that would warrant a viewing of the film. I call it "Raindrops". Not to give anything away, but Peter Parker decides to be himself, which is obviously a dork. Mr. Raimi and crew take that as an opportunity to make us all laugh. It's like a long Mentos commercial. And better yet, it remained hilarious upon second viewing.

Being a trinitarian by training, this completes the godhead three. It is an exercise in hero-making of nearly messianic proportion. This comes at the end of the railcar fight scene. I refuse to spoil it for anyone as hokey as myself, but I will comment that I believe that part was specifically influenced by Michael Chabon, who wrote Wonder Boys (the book, not the movie). I found it to be a literary moment.

In closing, I'd like to remark that I know that if I ever need to feel loved, I need only turn to a couple of different groups to receive it. The first is family, of course, though it's sometimes hard to see or accept. The second being friends and ditto how to take it. Third, children. I have yet met a child that doesn't like me. Finally, there are chiggers and brown recluse spiders. I have terrible scars from the bites both have inflicted upon me, and at present, I'm suffering from each.

Chiggers are awful wee beasties who bite you and wait on hair follicles while their saliva melts your flesh, then they suck the flesh-goo out.

Brown recluse spiders are worse. They inject a necronizing venom, which literally liquifies your skin and muscle tissue. I received my first around Thanksgiving two years ago. Having no idea what it was at the time, I proceded to believe I had both a very bad flu and an ingrown hair follicle. It got so bad that I had to be taken to the emergency room where it was cut out, leaving a hole in my thigh about two inches deep. To this date, I've had five of these bites but I've gotten to the doctor before they have progressed to the point that the first reached.

So my right ankle is a mess of chigger bites and today, I discovered a brown recluse bite on my left hip. Off to the Med-Stop, I go.

Then a wedding in Athens, GA this Saturday. Anyone want to be my date? I'll pay for the liquor and the hotel room. You provide the good looks, charm, wit and half the cuddling.