No, I’m not talking about Tampa Bay web design and hosting companies who re-sell server space that is located in Maryland, Washington DC, Atlanta, Los Angeles and the like… I mean a web hosting company with tangible server assets here in Tampa Bay (that I can prove that be true by running a tracert on domain names that on said local servers).

I’m curious because I’ve searched in the past for local companies with web hosting packages, and I’ve only found resellers — design companies that sell parts of their server space that they own with third parties.

Oh yeah, and the fact I don’t want to bitch about personal things knowing people know this is my personal blog.

But I gotta bitch today because I’m looking for an old family friend… Or friends more like it.

In 1984..? I think that was it… I moved into a house in Blue Point, New York with my family… Nice ranch place with cedar shingles and brick accents. There was a nursery next door and it was a quaint, small town on Long Island… There’s a plethora of details about Blue Point or that house but none are pertinant to this tory besidse what I want to talk about.

One afternoon after moving in, I was inside doing one thing or another and my brothers were out back — giggling and acting really weird by the back fence. I went to investigate what was going on and I found out they were making a fuss about a girl (and her friend) in the next yard. Mike and Andy were acting anti-social in one way or another and I thought “What’s the big deal?” and started up conversation with the girls… This was the begining of a great neighborly friendship between the Fontana family and the Reilly Family.

The girl in question was Shannon. Shannon H. Reilly if I do so recall her middle initial. She was about the same age as my older brother and went to Blue Point elementary school (while me and my older brother were attending Sylvain Avenue Elementary in nearby Bayport)… Shannon was basically the fourth child of my parents while me and my brothers became children of Shannon’s parents. We really were interchangable children and would spend time playing at each others houses all the time (except when I got tugged into some type of disagreement between my older brother and Shannon). I believe her parents names were Mary “Mussy” Reilly and Rich.

Shannon would later have a little brother, Brian, who became the fifth partner in crime. Of course, Brian would be too young for most of the -adventures that we’d undertake but he was none the less part of the equation when we did something.

At any rate, I moved away from New York to the Tampa Bay area in January 1989. The Reilly’s were there to send us off. They’d later take a trip from their home in New York to Florida and make sure to stop to see us along the way.

But time and distance made things fade. We did end up visiting the Reilly’s after they moved to Massachusetts during the 1990′s (not far from Foxboro if I do so recall) … But after that I can’t recall much of anything – news or what not – of the Reilly family. I did not see Shannon at that mid-1990′s get together because she was still in New York, finishing school while staying with relatives. I do remember Brian was playing offensive line in football but… eh.

I wanna know whatever happened to Shannon? I want to knwo what’s up with the Reilly family and I hope everything is ok. It’s a shot in the dark trying to write a blog entry about them — but after I did research on various platforms trying to find them and failed… I thought this was at least worth a shot….

While Mary Jo Malone wrote an incredible piece on the subject a some time back on the fact Tampa Bay has too many Wal-Marts as is, I had to send Tarpon Springs my own piece on why Wal-Mart is not a good thing for the city.

I am very upset at the shortsightedness of those in power with the City of Tarpon Springs with their collective reasoning behind blessing Wal-Mart. Though the city has not approved of the new Super Wal-Mart being built on the banks of the Anclote river, it seems just a formality even with the public outcry against it.

One of the “major” issues that the Mayor and others have had with Wal-Mart is the sale of natural sponges at the proposed location – which seems to be an attempt to save downtown Tarpon Springs and the tourist trade. It also seems foolhardy seeing that you can go to most any Wal Mart location and see they do not sell natural sponges.

What Wal-Mart also sells is the death of small businesses. What this Wal-Mart will also sell is the slow death of Downtown Tarpon Springs. Has the city of Tarpon Springs paid absolutely no attention to the history of this area? Look at Clearwater alone – they struggle greatly because they have sold off land on US 19 to as many retail giants as possible, and now they are hit with a lackluster downtown area and are desperate to draw the people back. There is money for investment, sure, but the key component to downtown Clearwater is Scientology now, not residents..

Tarpon Springs, by the logic shown, is greatly concerned that the tourist trade will be unharmed by this addition to the city limits. What about the rest of Downtown? What about the small business owners who can’t compete with the monopoly-like tactics of Wal-Mart, which tends to profit even when losing money on sales? Is expanding the cities tax structure for one store so important that it kills off the rest of the cities tax structure by forcing the smaller competition to close their stores?

This isn’t even getting into the negative environmental impact of the store on the banks of the river, the ecological damage that this store will undoubtedly do and the increase of sprawl that we don’t need in North Pinellas / Southern Pasco county.

If the city of Tarpon Springs needs additional tax revenue — raise taxes. If the city of Tarpon Springs wants to be for Corporations and By Corporations like the rest of America under the current State government and Federal Government, by all means — vote in Wal Mart and watch the central district of Tarpon Springs fall away with time. The Sponge Docks will remain but everything else will pass.

Not the best… But still, it tries to convey a point.

Anyone who wants to speak out for or against Wal-Mart being built in Tarpon Springs shoueld email the city clerk and good luck conveying your point.

Actually it would be very far from the truth – because I am certain that Karl Rove and Bush’s re-election team would make a scandal about Mary Magdalene and also start slanderous rumors about Lazrus and the apostles…

Before anyone lays into me about being a bandwagon fan, I support the Buccaneers and haven’t turned a blind eye because another team in town won a championship. The Bucs earned my love over the years from miserable to respectable, and the Lightning won my love since their inception and I place hockey just ahead of football because it was a sport I liked to compete in.

Anyway, I haven’t abandoned the Bucs but I have to turn my eyes because of the train wreck the franchise has become.

Lets go to January of 2003 first and foremost and Jon Gruden / The Tampa Bay Buccaneers winning the Super Bowl. When Jon won the title, little did fans know it gave him carte blanche over the Buccaneer Franchise. A team assembled by Rich McKay and Tony Dungy was put over the top by Jon and of course we all loved him for it because this was the Buccaneers finally reaching the paramount of the NFL after being as low as you could get for so long.

Things fell apart last year as Jon Gruden started to follow a trend that previous Buccaneer coaches have shown and fallen with — Absolute power corrupts absolutely. The Glazer’s catered to his every whim and the only guy who stood in his way was Rich McKay…

Was, past tense. Rich left the only franchise he had known and went north to Atlanta… Jon was allowed to keep walking the walk he wanted and the Bucs continued the downward spiral.

A trend from Oakland seems to be in place here — not just a desire for veteran players over building a team from the ground up with talented youngsters, but also a “Just win, baby” mentality that tells players their off-field antics amount to shit as long as they perform on the field.

Case in point – Michael Pittman remains on the Buccaneer roster even though he is guilty of ramming his car into his wifes vehicle with children inside. He faces possible jail time and Jon Gruden could give a shit.

The Bucs picked up another ass-clown from the Raiders in the form of Bruce Allen who cut one foo the greatest players in Tampa Bay Buccaneer history – John Lynch — and signed one of the most notorious players in NFL history — Darrell Russell, who drugged a girl and taped him and his friends raping her.
Allen went so far as to compare Russell with former president Bill Clinton and said the rapist is guilty of less crimes than Clinton. (side-note, Allen’s brother is a Republican Senator in Virginia)

I could keep going with moves the Bucs have made and crimes their players have committed since the Super Bowl Championship, but I can’t. It’s watching a train wreck as it occurs and their are more people than just myself who can see this. For the first time since Raymond James Stadium was opened, their are tickets available on Ticketmaster for Buccaneers games this late after the initial public offering of tickets. The Bucs boast a season ticket waiting list of 110 thousand but all it takes is filling out a form online in order to do so. Somehow, my name is on the Season Ticket waiting list and I hate watching football in person. I didn’t sign up and I don’t have the foggiest clue how I got on there…

The number is artificially inflated and more than half of those on this waiting list would not invest in the current product on field.

I look at the Buccaneers this season and I see the train wreck in progress. I feel bad for guys like Derrick Brooks and Mike Alstott who are pillars in the community and who will be cut lose if it meant a marginal offensive tool could be picked up. The once vaulted defense is in shambles and Jon Gruden was given a contract extension before the season to continue is free reign over the Tampa Bay Buccaneers.

6-10 may be a reach but 4-12 is still a possibility this season. Break out the orange, it’s Yuccaneer football all over again.

I think some people read that piece of writing and jumped to the wrong conclusions and got on me in part for it — others were just bored to shit and didn’t know what to make of it.

I’m posting the next little snippet just to keep myself occupied….

“My name’s Harry, I suppose I don’t look at all like you would have imagined the driver to look if he stopped, do you?” He spoke in almost a comforting tone. Peter simply shook his head in response. “Yeah, well, I got tired of living without seeing as much as I’d like so I decided to try out long haul trucking for a while. I’m really growing to like it. I’m a writer by trade, though.” Peter shot him a look of surprise that made Harry laugh. “Yeah, it’s true. Been a writer for 34 years and didn’t ever leave D.C. in order to do it. You look at the paper and see the bullshit they write in it, you get ideas. You take trips around Virginia or Maryland, or maybe go up to New York by train and tour around Manhattan, you get more ideas. You watch the Redskins win the Super Bowl with a quarterback some dumb bastard was too racist to sign, and you get even more ideas.” He grinned broadly at this and Peter let out a chuckle and felt at ease.

After Peter introduced himself, he was asked about the car, “It’s dead in the water. I mean no response at all from the engine or anything else. I couldn’t even get the hazard lights to work – just the ‘Service Engine’ light on the dash.”

“How long have you been on the side of the road?” Harry asked.

“Not long, maybe a half an hour.” Peter replied while rubbing his eyes, wearily. “Thought things would improve when my eyes adjust to the darkness but….”

“Your eyes aren’t going to adjust to the shit out there tonight.” Harry scoffed in response, “It’s black as black and the weathermen are talking about a foot of snow by dawn. Major blizzard. You would have been buried in it if I hadn’t shown up.”

“Shit…” Peter could find no better response.

“Where were you heading at this hour anyway? I didn’t think anyone took these back roads in the middle of the night except me, it’s the only way to get around the cops watching the interstate and trying to rack up their quota of speeding tickets.”

“Escaping,” Pete said in a sigh.

“From what?” Harry asked with a concern in both his voice and on his face.

“Pain.” Peter looked back and if he had seen his own face, he would have been sure that someone had been killed. In essence this was the truth, but it was part of him that was the recently deceased.

They rode on in silence for a few moments before Harry asked if he wanted to talk about it but Peter shook his head solemnly, “I don’t even want to think about it right now. I just want to focus on the problem at hand – the car and getting that thing running again.” He slumped in the chair. “How the hell do you stay awake in these things?” He put up an uneasy smirk, “This has got to be one of the most comfortable chairs I have ever sat in.”

“Practice,” Harry shot him a wink and then focused back on the road, “We’ve got another hour before we get to where I have some buddies that can help your situation out at this hour. You really got yourself in the middle of nowhere, Pete… Go ahead and curl up and get yourself some rest. I’ll wake you when we get there.”

“Thanks, Harry. I really appreciate this.” And audibly Peter’s voice turned from pained to exhaustion, “What time is it anyway?”

“Around 4:15 in the morning,” Harry spoke after glancing at the digital console on the dash. He glanced over at Peter one more time but Pete was already gone the way of slumber, his head resting comfortably in the chair and eyes closed shut. The Mack’s engine and hum of the tires against the asphalt only pulled him deeper into sleep.

I spent my entire childhood and teen years dealing with cliques. There were the popular girls, the smart-suck-up girls, the drug addicts, and then there was my group…the somewhat unpopular people who stuck together because with out each other, we had no one.

In sixth grade I started hanging out wiht the smart-suck-up girls. It was the year from hell. I was the butt of the jokes, the one being laughed at, the one forced to sit at the other half of the table when there wasn’t room for everyone to sit on one half. I hated it, and it didn’t take me long to decide not to hang out with them anymore. I felt like shit though…because I had made fun of the people who were my friends before because I thought I was better..I had moved up in the chain of popularity. But I went back to this group, and never left them out again.

I hated the cliques of middle school, and they were still very prevalent my senior year of high school. The good thing was that we all started to get along in high school, because we left the petty things behind. I thought I’d be able to leave the pettiness and cliques of my home town in the dust and be able to form new relationships with many people…and hang out with them all, not having a clique of my own or others to worry about.

I was wrong. I went to lunch today with three girls from my floor…I hardly know two of them, but they are truly nice people, like the third girl that I’ve known since she moved in. One offered to get me a drink, another recommended trying a dessert…they were nice people that I didn’t expect to be nice people.

Then for dinner I went with three people who I know very well. My roommate, Katrina, and Jozie. My roommate and I get along pretty well, so I was thinking. We haven’t fought, nor has she shown any sign of a problem with me. Katrina’s ok…kind of judgemental as I’ve gathered. Then there’s Jozie, who I haven’t had a warm feeling from since I met her. She never seems to want to talk to me..and when she does talk to me, she’s always short and snappy. So I was the last to sit down to eat, and when I sat down they were talking about going somewhere tonight (last night since it’s after midnight now), and then the conversation stopped.

They talked about a lot of things, but didn’t really include me in the conversation..and when I tried to speak up, someone interrupted me…no one laughed if I said something that i expected would be funny. On the way back, they kind of asked each other if they were going to take showers and what not, and when we into the dorm (it’s about 50 steps to get inside) there’s two stair cases, the first goes only to the 1st level, and the second goes all the way down here. Katrina, Mary and I live on the lowest level. Jozie asked if they were coming to her room, and they all went. Feeling enough of a “third” wheel (though I was indeed the fourth person), I said I was going to go down here right away.

And off they went. I went into my friend Louise’s room to see what she was doing, and about 45 minutes later, went to my room to drop off my keys and id in the room. There’s Mary and Jozie all ready to go out… They never asked if I wanted to go..never acted like they wanted me to go…and I didn’t want to go with them anyway. Not after they had treated me like shit at dinner.

What pisses me off is that I’m going to be the one to hear all about it tomorrow (today…time thing), and how much fun they had…and frankly I want to rub their nose in it. That’s how I felt in 6th grade. And in 6th grade, I just changed my group of friends.

It’s not so easy to do, though, when you don’t have people around to catch your back when you fall…When you have no history with people and they already have their friends that they hang out with…

It really feels shitty…much like reliving 6th grade all over again.

What started this awesome day was a workout at about 1:20 yesterday. I ran and walked with a friend from my floor for about an hour, and afterwards I was refreshed by a shower. It was a nice cool shower that washed the heat away. I pulled my hair back into a low, parted ponytail and finished up my writing for all of you in cyber space. I was nearly late (so I thought) for my Spanish class, but I got there plenty early.

Spanish class is so much fun for me…I love the sound of hearing any foreign language, especially Spanish. More importantly, I love to hear myself speak in Spanish when I’m having a good day with an accent. In class we talked about all kinds of things…boyfriends, girlfriends, painters, writers, books, heroes, and anything else that came up. It was all in Spanish. This was much like my Spanish classes at my high school. I came out of that class with a smile on my face, and suddenly this spark of energy and happiness that had no end. I hurried back to my dorm to share my happiness with everyone.

Many people couldn’t believe how peppy I was just because of my Spanish class. It was as if I were high on something (but I don’t do that sort of thing so believe me, I wasn’t). I smiled and laughed so much with my friends that my cheeks actually hurt. My roommate and I finally got to talking about ourselves a little deeper and now I see how much I really like her. Everything just seemed to click.

Last night I couldn’t sleep because I was still in such a good mood. Mary (my roommate) had the Dave Matthews and Tim Reynold’s Live at Luther CD and we were listening to that before we went to bed. The cd is completely laid back and awesome, exactly how I felt that day. Dave Matthews Band is my favorite one out there…if you’re a fan, let me know…we need to chat sometime.

Finally at 12:45 AM I had to draw things to a close. I had my 8 AM today and I needed to get some sleep. I only hope that today will be half of the day I had yesterday.

Ahh, the comfort in text – now if it was only worth reading… and if there was only proof people read this stuff (hint hint — click the comment link below and leave a comment about any given entry).

I used most of my day for writing and for 24, disc 4 (It is now 4 PM on the day of the California Presidential Primary) but I had a little incident this afternoon that re-inforced the scary part of my life…

My right leg gave out on me – twice.

I bent down to pet my cat, Smokey — hunkered down — and the leg had no strength in it (at the thigh). I struggled to get my balance and to not fall on my ass or whatever…

OK, maybe it was three times… I remember trying to get up from a chair and it giving out on me again… along with one other instance of leg weakness.

Monday I’m going to learn the date of snip-snip (surgery) and I hope I get to speak to Doc Smith before then.

Sleep time is near… must go… must go… zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

What really irks me about this – forget them finally catching the guy for a moment – is the guy called the task force that was investigating these attacks. He called several times at that. And what happened? They hung up on him. They disregarded him. They brushed off the calls.

And five more people got shot and died because they were that ignorant not to take his calls seriously.

It’s screw ups like this that got thousands killed on September 11th… You know,” intelligence” not taking possible scenario’s seriously enough to acknowledge the threats…

Crazy, just too frigging crazy.