the 9th grade, advanced placement, english teacher, was notorious for being a badass ballbuster. the 1st day of class, everyone in the room was scared.
she and i were about to meet.
when the bell rang, she picked up a rolled-up magazine and walked around the room looking at all the students. everyone averted their eyes. then, suddenly, she would slam the magazine on a random kid’s desk and say “so! you think you’re intelligent!??!” and the kid would just tremble and not answer.
she did this 4 times. one of those times the boy wet his pants. not kidding.
then she got near me and slammed MY desk and said “so! you think you’re intelligent?!!?”, to which i looked her in the face and said “i think i’m reasonably intelligent.” then she replied, “are you being truthful or being a smartass?” and i said “yes”. and, just for a nanosecond, i saw a smirk in that cold, mean, face.
she didn’t stop there, though. “what makes you think you’re so smart. do you think you’re smarter than me?” and i said, “no, ma’am, i don’t think i’m smarter than you. but i am smart enough to know that if you continue to harass and intimidate me, instead of actually teaching me to be smarter than you, that i’ll drag your butt in front of the board of education and then you can intimidate and harass the people in line at your mcdonald’s register.” she looked at me for a moment and said, “ok. you’re the teacher’s pet this year.” and went to the chalkboard and began teaching us.
she and i remained friends all year and i visited her when i could after moving to a different school across town. i went to her funeral, but didn’t know anyone there. at the family’s house, they began asking me who i was. i explained i was her student one year and told them the above story. her husband said, “oh my god…YOU’RE allen! my wife loved you so much!” and my heart melted.
rip, mrs. watts. thanks for helping to make me smarter.
i'm a gun owner in *strong* favor of strict gun control laws. i've never used my home protection guns (and hope i never do). if someone breaks in and tries to harm/kill me, i'll empty a clip into him w/o hesitation…but there's not enough therapy in the world to fix me after.
— Big Gay Al ? (@allenmcnulty) October 1, 2019
in july 1997, i bought my 1st domain name, designed it, and started selling stuff. credit card processing wasn’t around yet, so it was all mail order. obviously, google won 🙂
i learned programming on my own, mostly via trial and error. first i taught myself html, then cgi/perl, then php/mysql. i’ve always been adept with languages and found programming to be no different than conjugating english, french, etc…plus applying math i’ve learned to round it out.
i’m thinking about teaching myself how to program apps, but i think i might wait until more “apps in a can” come out to make it easier on me to play around with.
i also used to own/run a multi-million dollar corporation that faded after 20 years, but now that i’m broke again…i guess i’m not as smart as i thought i was. lessons learned.
until i think of a new lucrative project worth my time, effort, and energy, i’ll remember that time i was successful 🙂
people always ask me about starting their own website to make money with, but it’s too long of an answer. here’s the very short version:
1. buy your domain
2. hire me to help you (or hire someone, if not me 🙂
3. google and read everything about a newbie, online business.
if you think you have a groovy online business idea, i’m happy to help. my consulting fees are extremely competitive and i can create any type of site that can do anything you want (within reason…like building you a holodeck would be beyond my skill level 🙂
organic chocolate chip cookies is the only way to eat healthy 🙂
when i was in high school, i worked as a dishwasher and bar back at a restaurant/night club. i went in at 5:00pm, where i washed dishes and cleaned the kitchen until around 10:00pm. then the restaurant converted into a nightclub, where i bar backed (restocked beer, liquor, glassware, kegs, etc. for the bar). i worked until 2 or 3 in the morning (depending on daylight savings time). i did this 4 nights a week (on average)…2 week nights and 2 weekend nights, during 10th and 11th grades.
i was late for school almost every day, usually rolling in about 2nd period or so. it was spotty for me to make it in for 1st period.
the place was fairly new and unheard of when it first opened, but soon became a hot spot. soon after, some of my school’s teachers started frequenting there at nights. at first, they were a bit taken back by my being there, but then got drunk and didn’t care 🙂
my class load was also harsh. i was taking ap (advanced placement) classes and classes usually reserved for higher grades. i maintained an “a” average by the end of each year, though. perhaps this is why they let me break so many rules…the teachers who saw me working there all the time must have told my own teachers why i needed to break a few rules (and i’ll always be appreciative for that!)
* no eating/drinking in class – i brought my breakfast into whatever class i showed up in in the morning….not to be a dick, but because a growing boy gets fuk’n hungry and needs food! nobody said a word, except for pissed off students who didn’t like me getting “special” treatment.
* x amount of days being tardy meant suspension/expulsion – my pink tardy slips in my file was so full, the folder couldn’t hold them all. when the principal took out the folder, pink slips flew everywhere. i got a slight scolding, but no punishment. (thank you, again!)
* teachers must be ethical – in 11th grade, i was professor henry higgins in “my fair lady”. 7 performances. at the time, that role had the most lines of any character in any musical ever written. plus my classes got harder. plus, i bought my own car and needed to work still to pay the insurance. that said…i never attended my 5th period geometry class, because of rehearsals, etc. that teacher frequented the place where i worked. after the play was over, it was past the point of me catching up. i never took a single test in that class either. she secretly gave me an “a” every report card and told me never to reveal it (i think all my teachers are dead now, so this it’s probably ok to snitch now 🙂
i got fired the summer before 12th grade. the owner and one of the bartenders were an item and she told him that she and i slept together. no clue why. although i hadn’t come out yet, i was gay and definitely not interested in sex with girls…but that was a different time and i couldn’t come out to defend myself and disprove the lie.
in 12th grade, their business went belly-up and i worked part-time at an easy place in order to focus on school.
i graduated with all a’s 🙂
my thanks to everyone for helping me through it all…and i hope he and his gf reads this before they die.
i used to volunteer to read (parts of) the newspaper on a radio station segment for the blind. i don’t know if they still do this or not, but it was a great experience and service.
there were two of us in the booth (we alternated reading). we’d get there an hour before air-time to choose what to read (oftentimes just the highlights: who/what/when/where/why). if a grocery store was having a major sale, we’d let them know about that, too. we tried objectively to choose what we thought should be relayed to them in our one-hour, live, readings. the live sessions were recorded and replayed a couple more times that day/evening. i did this twice a week for over a year, although my booth partner was rarely the same person.
the station manager would give us notes after every session. my only notes were that i needed to stop laughing at the funny articles (pressing the “cough button” to mute my microphone, didn’t always work). i didn’t do it that much, but every so often an article would tickle me 🙂 the blind people who called in liked my humor. they didn’t like, however, that we didn’t read more grocery sales stuff. we only had an hour to fit in all of today’s newspaper articles and inserts, so i’d only pick stuff like “triple coupon day” at winn dixie…or whatever seemed worth the time. any article read about a blind person in the news always got tons of calls.
i can’t recall how many listeners we had, but i remember it was a lot. i went to the center for the blind one time and when i spoke to the lady at the front desk, many heads turned from the people sitting in the big seating area. my voice was instantly recognized. that surprised me, for some reason. at the center, i met a deaf and blind man for the first time (i already new basic american sign language), so we communicated via “tactile” communication. this is where he signed to me and when i responded, i signed back to him but he had to engulf my hands to “read” what i was saying. it was a unique and breathtaking experience for me, all around.
although you can’t tell from my writing, for 2 years i used to be the “editor-in-chief” for a small newspaper in asheville, nc.
i wrote a lot of the articles, exclusives, etc…but a lot was me proof-reading (with an iron fist) announcements that groups wanted to get out to the public that they’d mail in for publication. (no email/internet back then.)
i wasn’t paid much, so i also bartended for extra income. on slow, winter nights, i’d write and edit while behind the bar.
somewhere on an external hard-drive, is a pic of me bartending. i’ll post it here when i find it…
when i was a kid…
we rode our bikes, played football and tons of other outdoor games, explored the woods, ran through the corn fields, and drank from the water hose when we got thirsty. all until we heard our mothers screaming our names in the evening when supper was ready.
no real point to this post other than i wanted you to know how times have changed, if you didn’t already.
also, the backseat of the cars where the kids sat had no seatbelts…so some things changed for the better i guess 🙂
i’ve been smoking since age 16, unfortunately.
i’m just under 6’3″ tall and here are some of my “tall” experiences:
* anytime i’m at a store (mostly grocery stores) a minimum of one person will inevitably ask me to get stuff off the top shelf for them. i don’t mind at all, i expect it after 53 years of being asked, and i’m happy to help 🙂
* getting into and out of small cars (or very low ones) is a chore, plus my head remains seated against the roof unless i sit funny. getting out is the worst. i have to organize and plan a strategy for that particular vehicle, which always results in: legs on ground first and then put my left hand on the car’s hood and my right hand on the top of the door and push (pull?) myself up to a stand. luckily, my small suv is much more manageable.
* i learned very young to always be careful when walking into any room i’ve never been in before. i have slammed my head into ceiling fans, lights, and the low part of ceilings when you go up/down stairs more times than i can count. most people walking into someone’s home for the first time notice the couch, art on walls, etc., but not me…i’m looking for concussion-causing items from above.
* i don’t have to climb as many ladder rungs as most people do to change a light bulb, check the house gutters for debris, etc. i’ve also never used a step stool in the kitchen that i can remember.
* i was able to ride carnival/fair rides before most of my friends, at an early age.
* shorter men, when standing directly beside me, seem to sometimes get a “napoleon complex”. sometimes they’ll flex or act like an ahole to me. that one always weird’s me out. i know it’s their issue, not mine, but still…grow the fuck up and be comfortable in your skin. mental health is covered in most health insurance policies, i think.
* taking showers is very uncomfortable. the shower head always hits me at my abdomen. washing my hair requires moves from cirque du soleil. in my master bath remodel 12 years ago, i had him make the shower head very, very high up. it doesn’t affect anyone shorter and gives me the most pleasant shower experiences i’ve ever had.
* washing dishes hurts my back tremendously. sinks are built very low (to me). i have to take “hurting back breaks” when i hand wash dishes. the top dishwasher shelf is ok, but i have to crouch way down for the dishes onthe lower shelf. twice. loading and unloading. when i hit the lottery, i might invest in building homes for taller people 🙂
* as with so many taller people, i’ve had constant back pain issues since my 20’s.
* thankfully, i’m not tall enough for people to say stupid crap to me like “how’s the weather up there?”.
* for a long time…before they changed them…i was always taller than the height strip in convenience stores at the exit door (for them to help describe a robber to police). if i ever robbed a store with a height strip and the police asked “about how tall was he?” the clerk would have to say “taller than the strip” lol
that’s all i can think of right now, but will update when i remember other stuff.
please comment below if you have any issues with being tall.
i’ve never allowed any of my cats in my bedroom. my sleep is imperative and i need to remain undisturbed as much as possible (i’m constantly sleep-deprived, so i try to limit things that wake me up as much as possible). moreso…no cat hair on my bed!
that said…my bedroom door is always closed. the rare times that i accidentally leave it open, i arrive to find a kitty standing at the threshold peering inside at all the wonders of the world (through their eyes). unexplored territory with their daddy’s smell throughout…but they don’t cross the threshold.
when i first got butter (he’s almost 18 now!), he ran into my room the first chance he got when he was a newbie. immediately ran under the bed, of course. and it’s impossible to hand-reach a cowering cat underneath a king size bed with barely room enough for an arm to blindly feel around, so i used the “scare the shit out of him with extremely loud sounds” technique. he bolted out and never went in again (after a few more tries and scoldings)
if i’m just running into my bedroom to grab something real quick, i sometimes won’t close the door to latch close…it’s just cracked open a tad. tommy will nudge his head against the door and stick his head in…but won’t come inside.
it’s very funny to see, actually. i don’t carry my phone around with me, so i can never get a pic. one day, perhaps.
every morning i get up…for 4 years now….tommy sits outside my bedroom door in the hall and waits for me to get up and come out. he head butts my legs to death, gets petted, and follows me downstairs to do our morning socializing, get fresh food/water, and still doesn’t understand that i need an hour of coffee/wake-up time before i can play with him. butter, however, has learned to give me an hour to wake up. after i’ve been up an hour, butter starts meowing at me for attention.
it’s the only part of my days that i love. it’s the only joy, happiness, and love i experience or want anymore.
there’s so much love between us, i simply can’t put it into words to reflect its perfection and how carthartic they make me feel.
i was able, for the first time in almost 2 weeks, to speak words out loud. never had laryngitis before. what a crazy trip that is.
anyway…i spoke to the kitties today and they didn’t care one bit.
i got some money for xmas. bought some “magic” stuff with it. disappearing ink and a hand buzzer (not magic, but funny as fuk to a 6th grader).
as soon as i got to school, i immediately walked up to the principal and squirted his white shirt with (what appeared to be) blue ink.
every child around froze and had a look of fear i’m not sure i’ve seen before. all the adults stopped everything they were doing and looked like “oh allen…you finally crossed the line.”
then i realized nobody knew what it was, so i screamed “no! don’t worry. it’s magic disappearing ink i got for xmas. just give it a few seconds and it turns to water with no stain whatsoever!”
that was an indescribable 20 seconds of my life. everyone around just staring at his shirt. then…it went away.
he ended up chuckling at me and told me to never do that to anyone ever again.
everyone hated the hand buzzer, btw. best. buy. ever.
(i have no clue how old i was here. that was my dog among 6 cats in our home. her name was “princess”. she had a german name when my mom got her, but changed it because “it sounds too angry”. i’m wearing an “air force” tshirt because i was a “military brat”)
since my laryngitis, i’ve been unable to speak (barely even whisper at the beginning). they said the only cure is to cease and desist all talking, whispering, or any sounds.
of course, during this time, i have not spoken to at all. normally, i talk to them a LOT.
they know something’s wrong, but are not clear what it is.
here in the jungle, i’ve noticed that since i’ve stopped talking to them for over a week…they have (exponentially) decreased their meowing.
i still hold and love on them constantly, of course, i just haven’t been discussing politics with them lately…
in my opinion (and from what many google searches have said), bank of america fucked me over and continues to do so. i can’t stop them…i’m a drop in their ocean. i sincerely believe with all of my heart that (right at the EXACT time the mortgage stuff collapsed along with our economy) they sold me a predatory loan. i had zero clue what it meant (or eventually would mean). (the answer is financial disaster and loss of well over 100k, i think).
because there’s no money in it for the lawyers, it seems they’re all very busy right now. i tried “free” legal organizations, but nothing. so then i thought…is it a dumbass thing to attempt to file a civil suit against a giant like boa and also be your own lawyer? what’s the old phrase? “anyone who defends himself has a fool for a lawyer”.
then i googled “defending yourself in civil court” and got a myriad of quality information. some very detailed. but they all did say one constant: if you lose, you lose your case, what you were suing for (or to keep), and you have to pay all of boa’s attorney fees, court costs, and jesus christ himself will come down and make you give him one million dollars. (cash only…he’s like that.)
if i won (and the judge was cool), i’d ask him/her to say “you’re out of order, mr. mcnulty!” so i can do the famous court bit most know. after everyone’s left, of course haha
also, i really, really, really, need the judge to be a sassy, black, lady. not only will i feel like i have a fair and impartial judge, but we can also do the sassy, black lady head roll when bank of america says some bullshit and we catch ’em on it.
it’s really weird to attempt to talk and not even a peep comes out. i can whisper just a little. i’m only half-way through the course, assuming i’ve been diagnosed correctly.
my cats think it’s sorta’ effed up that i don’t talk to them anymore. i love on them more than i should, but i don’t speak to them. they remain confused 🙂