People Talk and People Stare, Tell Them I Don't Really Care

Last week I lamented over a lot of moving the Beaumont family has done recently.  We finished our basement and are now rearranging rooms.  When one does that one stirs up the dust of one's memories so to speak.  Even though the move is about the future the moving ended up reminding us of our past.

One of the artifacts I came across was a tape Shannon made in 1989.  Listening to it and learning about what she was doing in and around the making of that tape reminded me of what I was doing about that time.

I wrote a post about my 1989 memory here just last week.

Another artifact I came across was an album of pictures of Shannon from early college years which created quite a conundrum for me, a veritable crisis of conscience.  You see the album has several pictures of a late-teen Shannon in rather skimpy bathing attire.  Damn, she looked good!  I am sure glad I got to have sex with 24 year old Shannon but oh how nice it would have been to have 4 years of college sex with Shannon!  But then I was immediately disgusted with myself.  How could I, my eldest daughter is only a few years younger than this image; I'm a dirty old man!  The shame.  But then my alternative ego said to me, hey Super Ego, this is your wife it's not creepy to mentally undress her.  Oh the paradox and the stupid *hit that plagues my mind!  :)

But anyway, let's go to Shannon's 1989 memory and hear from her, or at least how I imagine she would articulate her memory.

Shannon speaking.....


OH my goodness have the last few months been a struggle.  After 10 years living on top of each other in this house Ryan finally got up off his ass and got the basement finished.  With our new salaries we had talked about moving or building.  We looked at some sites in the fall but Ryan moved at a glacial pace and then only to find that while we could get a bridge loan we would have to come up with about $50,000 cash to close on a new house.  Tragic because we found the perfect house on "short sale" that would have been everything we wanted.  As is so often the case the candy was dangled just in front of me and then pulled away just as I grasped.  Once again I was told, can't do it; not enough money.  I guess in my age I've started to look a little closer at reality though.  Even after the massive loan we would have the risk of renting our current house.  Ryan is way to conservative to do anything like that.  Frankly, I didn't want to give up vacations so we decided to upgrade our current house. Ryan spoke with a contractor he knows and got a really good price to convert that junk yard that was our basement to a recreation room, another bathroom, and a bedroom for our eldest.  Ryan secured a loan from another guy he knows at the bank.  I guess I have to hand it to him, he does know people in this poor little provincial town.

We started over the winter and two months later it was finished.  We immediately started enjoying the family space.  It is so cute, a little kitchenette, a ping-pong table, a wide screen TV on the wall and best of all the girls have a place to go with friends and I can get peace and quiet upstairs.  And Ryan can watch his Nationals games without interruption.

One afternoon Ryan came home and pulled me outside quickly and said he wanted to show me something up the street.  I was sure he was talking about some big trash pile in one of our trashy neighbor's yard.  He turned on the engine, music was blaring.  I immediately reached to turn off the radio but Ryan stopped me.  Just then I recognized a voice from my past that was only vaguely familiar.  It was me, at least I thought it was me; I had to confirm.  My voice was different, where did that southern accent come from.  Now I remember how hard I worked to get rid of it.

Then I had to laugh as I remembered the night that tape was recorded.

The ACC Tavern circa, 1989

And You Love the Game, Shannon circa 1989

RIP Cindi Mancini

It's funny how quickly and vividly I remembered that night at the ACC Tavern.  It was a typical Thursday night happy hour.  I was with my friends but we had scattered as various guys had drawn our attention and gotten our drinks.  This was our typical Thursday night place.  Rather than a band, on this particular night there was a DJ from a local station that was broadcasting a show.  At least that was what I would learn as I paid no attention at first.  I don't know why that DJ picked me out of the crowd other than the fact that he must of thought I was young and naive.  He walked up to me on a break and started a conversation and I sort of listened.  He tried to complement me by saying I looked like Amanda Peterson, the girl from "Can't Buy Me Love."  Geez, guys will say anything to get your attention.  That movie had been big a year earlier so I guess he thought that was a good compliment.  I didn't see it but I did have long wavy blond hair back then.  But I know it was just a line he used to initiate a conversation.

At first I thought he was trying to pick me up.  It was a little creepy because he was a little older.  It wasn't that older guys ever bothered me, I dated a college guy when I was a sophomore in high school.  Maybe it wasn't creepy because of his age (I'm sure he was just mid-20's).  Perhaps it was more related to the fact that I was just not in the least bit attracted to him.  I am remembering him now as looking like a younger Stanley Tucci.

I have to give him this, he was persistent.  He asked me about my major, who was my favorite band, where I was from, yada, yada.  I wasn't really giving him much of an opening but he was trying to appear mature and interested in my mind as his ploy.  He finally asked if I would come on stage and be the guest DJ.  That was the show I guess every Thursday night on that local station.  

For the next hour I was the guest DJ for the station spinning Peter Gabriel, the Cult, Echo and the Bunnymen, Simple Minds, Blue Murder, and even Alice Cooper of all things.  It was fun and listening back now I have to say I sounded pretty good over the radio.  I think I could have been a DJ or better yet a VJ on MTV (when they still played music).

I guess it was naive of me to assume that Mr. DJ had just asked me on stage because he thought I would be talented.  As the show stopped he offered to buy me a drink.  Out of courtesy I said yes.  For the next hour he proceeded to tell me all of the inner-workings of the DJ business of which I was not at all interested.  But for some reason politeness and I guess the abandonment of my friends held me captive on this island of an older, starting to go bald man.  

Those conversations always end up with "so can I get your number?"  With guys, I learned at a young age there always is a proposition.   I hesitated and then he made an interesting offer.  No he didn't ask me to go back to his apartment but he did say he had Aerosmith tickets and "did I want to go." I was still hesitant but something about going to the concert (in supposedly VIP seats) with a man that might buy me dinner first held sway over me and I said yes.  Oh yeah, I reluctantly gave him my number as well.

Now I'd know he was just some dirty old man who got some freebie, throw-away tickets from a band's manager for doing some minor promotional work ahead of a local show by playing them at the top of every hour or right after a beer commercial.  But that was long before age (and Ryan) made me pessimistic about guys.

Mr. DJ waited a polite two days to call.  Again, he feigned enlightened maturity and asked me questions about what projects I was working on, how my semester was going.  When I mentioned art he asked if I liked Cubist or Classical, he probably read that question on the back of a fortune cookie.  He finally got around to asking me if I wanted to go for a drive that Sunday afternoon.  I had nothing better to do so I agreed, he said he had a rebuilt '69 convertible Mustang after all.

The drive was fun.  He talked a lot about what I don't know.  Why can't guys learn to be quiet, I just wanted a little peace.  After all, my head was still a little groggy from the DeKE party the night before.  I did enjoy the air on that spring afternoon and he did have good music on cassette.  If he would only have stayed quiet and let me listen to the Sisters of Mercy without interruption he would have improved him image immensely with me.

We stopped for coffee along the way and we got back to my Dorm just before dark.  Thankfully he didn't try to kiss me.  The concert was the following Friday, we made plans to go out to a restaurant before.

I wish he was Patrick

I suppose if I was smart I would not have showered for three days ahead of the date with the DJ.  I wouldn't have looked any worse than the majority of the crowd and perhaps it would have incentivized him to leave me alone.  But the 19 year old me wanted to look good in public at all times so I wore a tight little dress and made myself up to look my best.

Mr. DJ drove up in his Mustang, I was already in the lobby.  I think I remember seeing him mouth "dang" as he walked up.  Class, isn't it!  Well at least I knew what he wanted, now I just needed to be ready for a defensive posture when needed.

Dinner was OK.  The I know this great place downtown turned into Chili's but it was better than the Dining Hall food I suppose.  The show was fun and we did have good seats just off to the right of the stage.  I guess I had hoped he would magically produce back stage passes but no such luck.

It was a nightmare getting out of the parking lot, well after midnight so when he suggested we go for a drink, I declined.  He kept on asking if I had fun and I repeatedly told him yes.  The continued fake worry or worse yet lack of confidence was definitely off-putting.

We finally got back to campus.  He pulled up (strategically I'm sure) to a secluded spot adjacent to my Dorm.  He swung toward me, moving his arm around me, smiling, and saying "so ya had a good time (once again), Steve Tyler still has it doesn't he."  I think I mumbled "yes."  He then moved forward and forced a kiss to my mouth.  I started to pull back but his hand was behind my neck.  He didn't really force himself on me and I guess he was trying to be nice and polite.  I wouldn't say I kissed him back as much as I simply allowed him to kiss me.  In my mind I said, I'll let him kiss me for the length of "Major Tom."  It was playing on the radio and I liked that song so that is what I concentrated on.  I guess that is sometimes how we rationalize the things we do for guys.  The song ended and I muttered some excuse to get out of the car.  He did the gentlemanly thing and walked me to the door.  It cost me one more kiss and then I was inside.

In hindsight it wasn't so bad.  He did try to be a nice guy even if it did come off as a bit smarmy.  I guess looking back now it is a bit smarmy for a guy in his late 20's to be hitting on a college freshman.  But then again I'm jaded and curmudgeonly now.  I wouldn't tell Ryan that but I am.

He called several times after that night but I just didn't return the calls.  Sometimes it's best just to move on.  Anyway, one of the basketball players started talking to me that next Thursday night at the Tavern.  He wasn't that cute either but he started for the **** and played for Coach *, so guess he had at least as much cache as a DJ with free Aerosmith tickets.

Oh well, time to clean the new fish tank downstairs.  All this new space and nobody but me is going to get up off their ass and clean it!

At least Ryan and the girls enjoy playing ping pong.

The End.....

Back to Ryan:

I'm still working through the cathartic analysis over the acceptability of mentally undressing as a 40-something man the 20 year old image of one's wife.

Sorry, that is just the type of paradoxical conundrum that spins around in Ryan's poor mind.

I just added this picture because it's funny!  :)

Every Day We Have to Look in the Mirror

Sing the Underwear Song!

In my life I've always been about success through association.  So when I read about Tommy John underwear and their pursuit of the solution to the eternal question "why men feel strange about purchasing underwear," I was intrigued!  I thought to myself, the world needs Ryan Beaumont's comforting support in solving this shaky problem because lord knows I have the balls and the awkward approach to approach such an awkward dilemma!

In thinking about my response I immediately started digressing and thinking about some association that makes purchasing underwear fun and not at all strange.  I say this because I have absolutely no hangups with purchasing underwear.  In fact I quit enjoy it and it has provided me with some rather fun and enjoyable experiences.

Men's natural tendency is to think about underwear from a utilitarian perspective.  Does this undershirt stay tucked in?  Do I have to pull my dick out of the hole all the time?  All important stuff you know.  But can we as men aspire to a higher level of underwear self actualization!  In thinking about this I found that men only buy underwear for 17 years of their life, so perhaps it's not about having a hangup as much as simple laziness or being unimaginative about buying underwear.  I say between mom and your wife, use that period of your independent underwear buying life to establish notoriety and use it as a jumping off point to establish a sexy bond with your significant other.  Simply put let's talk about stepping up your game guys!

Let's explore an association and find out why men should relish the opportunity to seek and procure undergarments and in fact use it to their advantage!  Recently I wrote an article about Dads.  In it I talked about how much women love to adorn things.  You know what I'm talking about throw blankets and pillows on couches, matching towels and soap dishes.  Even if you only use that downstairs bathroom twice a month, your wife has to have just the right vanity and towel bar.

I say men are the ultimate accessory for women.  How we look says a lot about who they are and more importantly their sense of style and taste.  So let them give you advice on just the right skinny pants and shoes to wear and the perfect tie for that Brooks Brothers shirt and suit.  But don't end there, remember that soap dish in the downstairs bathroom; it matters to her.  And just like that soap dish what's going on downstairs, or rather underneath all that fashion, matters to her as well.  Get her involved, make it fun.  For Christ sake, let her shop with you for underwear.  It will lead to something, trust me!

Over the past few years Sandee and I often meet at an outlet center between where we work.  Often it's just for coffee but on a few occasions I've needed to shop for something such as a belt or shoes.  On one occasion I needed a belt.  I was using a gift card to pay and had a few bucks left.  Then the question was, what else to buy?  As is often the case boxers and briefs were near the cash register counter as an impulse purchase.  I jokingly told Sandee to pick out a pair she wanted to see me in or better yet pull off of me.  What was a joke turned into a sexy playful game of pick out the best pair of undergarments for Ryan.  Ryan is a fall so is maroon with anchors best?  Perhaps the forest green with elephants, or should we go patriotic with American flags.  We picked the forest green but really it didn't matter, it got us to thinking about how we looked underneath our work clothes and how much we wanted to see one another in those undergarments.  What was utilitarian became sexy in an instant and trust me the next time we met intimately I had that pair of underwear ready for her to take off!  :)

I do in fact own several pairs of Tommy John boxer briefs.  I do like that secure feeling.  I have found we do look so much better in well fitting clothes.  Cheap clothes are really made to fit a wide audience.  Better manufactured clothes are a bit more expensive but are also more intentional about how they adorn the human body.  Well fitting clothes frame and then shape and allow our shoulders and hips to form the underlying architecture of our body.  Ill fitting clothes make us look sloppy, well fitting clothes make us look sharp and well put together.

So I guess the message for today is be intentional about what you wear outside and inside and make it a fun thing to enjoy with those you enjoy!

Authors Notes:  As a Kenyan Anti-Colonial Socialist I of course abhor shamelessly promoting commercial products.  When I first started this blog and was fed numerous money making opportunities to merchandise my blog, I always turned away for the sake of art (that's your opportunity to laugh)!  But you know my ego and hubris can always be gotten and will usually over-take my morals when scratched just the right way.  So that is why today I relent and discuss underwear.  After all this is about the evolution of the human experience, or so my Id tells me when in conflict with artistic morals!

Hey can you believe there is an Underwear Expert blog!?

Sometimes you just have to go with the flow.  So in keeping with the flow enjoy this fun Underwear song -