About
The Name
Very quickly, before I forget: Why of Kings and Carnies?
According to my maternal grandmother, on her side of the family I am related to Mary Queen of Scots. Mary’s son was King James I of England. In the late 1500s and early 1600s, King James I ruled Scotland, England, and Ireland. He also commissioned a new translation of the Bible. We know it as The King James Version.
He was a very important guy. I am related to him. And, as the eldest son of an eldest son of an eldest son, I am probably the true heir to the throne of England; not that Prince Charles character.
Hence the KING, in of Kings and Carnies.
The Carnie part? My maternal grandfather died in a carnival accident. So … whatever …
A Short History
I’ve had a personal website, a different one than this, for a very long time. Ten years? More? It was pretty popular, maybe too popular.
People from the meat-world, my meat-world, began calling me by the name of that other website. I got a promotion at work. Now I had employees. They knew about my website. Meat-world people visited and commented. Which would be fine, but I’m an idiot. I say and write idiotic things. I’ll insult your religion. Spin politics in bizarre ways. Make points much deeper than I really am. Make boobie jokes. Talk about co-workers.
I became very uncomfortable with people I work with, especially my employees, knowing how big an idiot I am. I stopped writing on my old website.
Also, I work in the healthcare industry. I tell health-related stories from time-to-time. Some of these stories may expose, in violation of HIPAA regulations, patients and their illnesses. I doubt it as I don’t use real names and do as much as I can to protect their identities, but you never know.
I became very uncomfortable thinking that I might expose my employer and myself to the full-force of the Feds as they tried to enforce their HIPAA regulations. I stopped writing on my old website.
My family reads my old website. They already know I’m an idiot. I’ll tell them about this website.
The Players
Me.
My name is Jim. I was born in 1964. As this might never be updated again and you might read this several years after I’ve written it, you’ll have to do the math.
I live in Central New Jersey, close to the ocean. I bought and renovated the house I grew up in. It’s a 100-year-old farm house.
I married my wife in 1988. I used to introduce her as my first wife. People’s reaction was usually, “That’s awesome. And you’re still friendly.” I’d answer, “No. We’re still married.”
My wife hated that joke. She made me stop using it.
Do you see what kind of idiot I am? I just made that joke.
I have a several interests:
I’m a good golfer. I’m a 4-handicap as I write this. I want to halve that this summer. I need to improve my putting. And my confidence.
I like taking photographs, but almost never share them. I don’t know why. It might be related to a confidence-thing similar to the one above
I read stuff that other most people wrinkle their noses at. Philosophy books. Old fairly obscure writers like H. L. Mencken and A. A. Milne. Religious books, though I’m not religious - hell, I’m not even spiritual (which is what a lot of non-religious people say to keep the religious-types off their backs). Bad humor books. Books on design and advertising. Golf books and photography books (see above). Science crap. The dictionary. Essayists. Other stuff.
I, more-or-less, study Brazilian Jiu Jitsu. Before there was an Ultimate Fighting Championship and mixed martial arts, I was a formal Brazilian Jiu Jitsu student. I stopped studying but am getting back into it now. Mostly self-studying. Trying to get my old chops back. I’m toying with going back to a school. I dunno.
I have three kids: a girl and two boys. As I write this they are 17, 11, and 4 respectively. Which is proof that my wife has sex with me every six years or so.
That was a joke. Here’s another one: I’ve had a vasectomy. That means I can have sex without doing math.
You’ll figure that last joke out eventually. I think it’s funny.
Oh, another thing about me, I like jokes that most people think are bad. Groaners. I love a good groaner.
I like music. My favorite bands include: Rush, ELP, Marillion, Fish, CSNY, Neil Young, Jethro Tull, Pink Floyd, Dave Matthews, Stevie Ray Vaughan. I like other bands too. I just can’t think of them right now.
The Wife-Beast
The fawn-eyed girl with sun-browned legs
Dances on the edge of his dreams.
I met the Wife-Beast when I was 19-years-old. She was 18.
I was the Orthopedic Technician at the local hospital. She was volunteering on the orthopedic floor.
Beautiful, she caught my eye before Bill, an older nursing assistant, ever pointed her out. “What do you think of her?” Bill asked, pointing at the skinny, blonde girl making a bed.
“Pfff. I could go out with her,” I answered. In my head, I was shaking in my boots - I thought she was too pretty to talk to let alone ask on a date.
“You’re on!” said Bill. “Five-bucks says you won’t be able to get a date with her. You have one week.”
Sheesh. What did I get myself into? “Okay, you’re on.”
I went to work quickly. I helped her make the bed. Made small talk about the space shuttle that had just taken off the day earlier. Invited her for a bagel and orange juice on her next break. (This, Bill informed me, would not count as a date.)
I walked her out the door after her shift, got her phone number, and promised to call. And I called. And I was blown off. I called again. And was blown off again. And again. And again.
I can take a hint, but I was unwilling to part with my hard-earned five dollars. Eventually, I got her on the phone and was able to con her into a date.
Her sister’s remember the guy that kept calling. They remember her blowing some guy off. The Wife-Beast swears it wasn’t me. We are all sure it was.
Five years later I married her. Twenty-five years later, we’re still married.
Thanks, Bill. If it wasn’t for you I would have never dared to talk to her.
But, you know what, let’s bring the story forward to today. We’ll be married 20 years this year (2008). We have three children and won’t have another (thanks to Mr. Vasectomy).
… more to come …
