J.J. Goodman: Writings, Musings and More

It took a few moments for his eyes to focus, and when they did he still didn't believe he was seeing that which he saw. The face that looked back at him was round, like that of a cherub, with rosy cheeks and tiny little eyes that blinked rapidly. Its complexion was so nearly perfect he'd have sworn it was artificial. No one he'd ever encountered exhibited such a cheerfully symmetrical smile. It was the ears, however, that drew his attention the most. Small and pointed, they protruded from the sides of the red, velveteen hat that adorned the small creature's head. "Are you an elf?" he asked. The creature nodded feverishly in the affirmative, but did not speak. "I must have hit my head harder than I thought," he murmured as he moved himself to a seated position on the sidewalk. The elf brushed snow from his shoulders and the breast of his overcoat. Once all was cleared, it stood, its shoulders hunched forward and hands clasped, just smiling away.

When last we met we discussed the finer points of innuendo and inappropriateness, which are two of my favorite "in" words by the way. [Yes, I have favorite "in" words. I know, inconceivable, right? And that word – it does mean what I think it means.] In illustrating the beneficial health effects of inappropriateness, I gave you the example of the Cheeto-phallus. Well, due to an extraordinary work load and the constantly shuffling of papers on my desk, I discovered this morning that Cheeto-phallus is still on my desk. In the exact same condition as it existed when first placed there. Three weeks ago today. (EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!) I have to admit, I was with you on that sentiment… at first. But then something happened. Something magical. Something wonderful. (Oh sweet bejeebus where is this going?) Ok fine. Nothing happened. But that's just it! Nothing. Happened. At all. Drawing, as I typically do, on the quintessential "if it's

[WARNING: This blog post contains crude humor… and an explicit photograph of a root vegetable.] Have you ever had one of those friends that can take anything, and I mean anything , and find within it a sexual, juvenile or just plain silly undertone? Perhaps you are that friend. If you're a friend of mine, this pretty much applies to all of you.   Example: You:     Do you know of a coffee shop I can get to easily? Me:       Yeah, there's one on Main Street. It's easy in, easy out. You:     That's what she said. *snicker* Sadly, I have more conversations like this than I care to count. There are those times when I really am trying to be serious, but there are other times when the innuendo, well, it just comes out. (That's what she said. *gigglesnort*) STOP THAT!!! See? See how easy it is? [Don't. Say. It.] I jest, of course, because frankly I wouldn't want it any other way. The sharing of juvenile innuendo has, for better or wor

There have been a couple of pieces that I've written that have torqued, annoyed, slightly offended, or downright angered some readers. This piece will likely invoke one or more of those responses. I make no apology and simply ask you to remember that my mind goes to very different, often dark, and quite often odd places…. ________________________ There is no question that things have changed. And by "things" I of course mean dating. Things were changing even twenty years ago, evidenced by the exchange between Rob Reiner and Tom Hanks in Sleepless in Seattle during which Hanks' character laments re-entering the dating scene. Reiner tells him that now "women are looking for pecs and a cute butt."   That may or may not still be true today, but the means by which women may seek those qualities in a man has changed dramatically. (Likewise for "man seeking woman.") Sure, people still meet in bars. With the advent of the Internet and onlin

If there was one thing with which Kai St. James was blessed, it was a vivid imagination. Sadly, it was also his curse. The medication helped, when he took it, of course. He had been vigilant, for a time, but found that whatever it was they had him take was dulling his other senses. Food tasted bland, sounds seemed muffled, and scents carried no aroma. It had been nearly a week since his last dose, and he was finally beginning to feel like himself again. Part of him felt guilty. After the last time he had been admitted, involuntarily, Kai had promised his sister that he would stay on his meds this time. Honestly he didn't understand why everyone was so concerned. It wasn't as if he'd ever hurt anyone, or himself for that matter. Of course, the condition that caused his overactive imagination also prohibited him from understanding the reality and consequences of his actions. Sarah had to remind him repeatedly of the time they had gone to dinner and he drifted into his su

So, just what does happen in my mind after: 1) a really long workday; B) ending said day with a harrowing, "Bambi-nearly-has-violent-physical-relationship-with-Jeep" moment; 3) resulting, adrenalin-induced insomnia; and 4) multiple cups of caffeinated beverages the next morning? (Oh. Sweet. Bejeebus.) Shush, you. This is when I write some of my best stuff. (Touché. Carry on.) Thank you. As I was saying… what was I saying? Oh, right. What happens, blah blah blah. What happens is my mind filling with inanity. (More than usual?) HEY!!!! (*snicker*) Enough from you, pretend, parenthetical heckler. But yes, more than usual. Dictionary.com defines "inane" as The Book of Mormon and… wait. Never mind. That's an advertisement. Where… ok there it is. Dictionary.com defines inane as "lacking sense, significance or ideas; silly; empty; void." The adjective inane is typically associated with questions, i.e. inane questions, such as

"Onto thee, descends the darkness…." "Is she serious with this?" "Shhhh!!! Just listen," Will admonished. Jackson rolled his eyes, crossed his arms across his chest and leaned back in his chair. He didn't believe in all this occult bullshit, but he had promised his buddy Will that he'd go to the psychic fair with him. Will's husband would have otherwise gone, but he was in Seattle to handle some estate affairs for his mother. "…darkness through which the demons emerge…." "Come on, dude, you really believe this shit?" Suddenly the room went quite as the speaker turned her attention to Jackson. "I see we have a skeptic in our midst." Jackson, still with his arms crossed, simply raised an eyebrow. "What is it that prevents you from believing, sir?" "I believe what I can see. What I can feel. Spooky incantations and dry ice fog are nothing more than parlor tricks." T