Today has been plagued by a general insistence by everyone on driving 35mph regardless of the speed limit and for everyone else to ignore the implication of the music being cut off in a retail store (it means we’re closing now and you should check out or get out). I left work 30 minutes late and the mad dash began. It’s what I do.
The last week has been rather uneventful, at least for me. If it was, I don’t remember much of it. Sunday I got to go swimming and eat lobster for the first time (it doesn’t take like much to me…?), now all I want to do is go swimming. I’ve found a new author that I’m itching to delve into; he’s dead but the reviews say he wrote several psychological thrillers. I haven’t read any of his stuff yet, but they’re making movies out of them soon so check out Stieg Larsson’s “Millenium” series if you get a chance. Honestly I can’t remember what else has been happening…the internet was down and I did gloriously little on Thursday. The shop damn near fell apart while I was camping (the other guy lost his temper and yelled at the boss, said “I don’t trust you!” and other bad things), the boss took today off due to stress, and now we have an installation company we’re supposed to push who charges twice the rate of the freelancers. I sold my first installation the day of the meeting (my day off) in my beach shorts and flip flops. Yeah, I’m that bad ass.
Much of my free time will soon be spent on trying not to be so bad ass in retail. I’m shopping positions in my own field, which is interior design for anyone who doesn’t know. Retail has altered my perception of the general public, not for the good I’m afraid. People suck. And people have taken the adage of “the customer is always right” to include situations where the customer is being a complete and utter jackass, trying to get something for nothing, and/or needs someone to blame besides themselves. Case in point: we are closed for inventory. A lady comes pounding on the door, demands to be let in because the fan she bought from us was missing the cotter pin, her ‘handyman’ installed it anyway, and it fell from the ceiling, demolishing a coffee table and damaging the floor. Somehow this is our fault. Does anyone not see how retarded this situation is? If your shit is missing parts, come see us and we’ll give you one. If your handyman doesn’t know he shouldn’t install something with missing parts, then you got what you paid for. This woman expected the company to replace her fan, buy her a new table and pay loads of money to fix her floor. Oh yeah, and be seen and waited on on a day when we are closed. Just cuz the lights are on and you see someone doesn’t give you the right to pound on the door and demand service. There’s a reason the door is locked (to keep crazies like you out!!). So I no longer think people are inherently good. I think people are sanctimonious bastards who need to realize the world doesn’t revolve around them, it’s not that fucking serious (whatever it is), and I don’t owe them shit! And that’s at the start of my work week.
I have a new dream plan. It’s been occupying my head space for the last week, basically since we got back from camping, and yes, I’ve been mostly useless the whole time because of it. Maybe that’s why I can’t remember what’s been happening….? Anyway, I don’t want to spoil it, but check out this website for a hint. (Insert devilish grin here)
Check in for the gig I’m waiting on isn’t for another 40 minutes, which means carpet arrivals aren’t for another 70. These little bastards better be on time. “The Wolfpack” has a whole new meaning now which has nothing to do with the University of Nevada, Reno. Any Twilight fans reading this blog? I’ll reserve the next comment for myself. But you get the idea.
This Friday is my girls’ day out. I’m really excited. Haven’t decided what I’m doing yet, but whatever I F’ing feel like comes to mind. There should be a pool involved somewhere if possible.
I think I’ve run out of witty things to say for the moment. I’m getting tired though tonight is a long way from over. After this carpet drags on, I’ll go home and attempt to post my camping blog and this one, just for you. So feel special – I’m losing sleep over this.
Camping in Utah
We made it back alive! Based on the weather we’re having today, however, we shouldn’t have come back at all. 108˚F with 20% humidity. Gag and then pass out.
So we planned this camping trip with friends, they were all gonna carpool and share a cabin, rent a boat for the day, see Bryce, so on and so forth. Then everyone canceled on us, couldn’t get days off, whatever, and what not. After being temporarily miffed, I was ok with that; decided we were going regardless and gonna have a good time. 
So we canceled the boat and the cabin, got a camp space instead with the logic that despite money being tighter than a drum, we needed the trip. (I weighed my reactions to being broke when we got back vs. not going at all, and that settled it). Two days before we leave, the friends wander back into the picture, asking about departure times and if a German Shepard will fit in our car with two more bodies and our entire collective camping gear. The day before departure, we picked up two more. So now we’re a ragged band of 6, all arriving at various times after dark to set up tents half way up a mountain in Utah. We arrived first, with a borrowed tent we’ve never seen or set up before (ours finally died after the last trip), and using our Yukon’s headlights for light (her name is Winnie the Strong, by the way), spent an hour fooling with it, trying to get it to stand on its own. Once we finally got the thing constructed (nicknamed “Bitchy and Complicated”), we realize we’ve killed Winnie’s battery and she won’t start. She wouldn’t even try. Normally this wouldn’t be too big of a deal: we’re not out in the boonies by ourselves; we’re in a campground full of fancy RV’s owned by a couple of rascally Brits – somebody’s got jumper cables. We are, however, parked right where our friends need to set up their tents…and it’s the middle of the night. So then we wait. It’s rubbing up against 11pm Nevada time and still no sign of our friends, neither of whom have ever been where we are or driven that winding mountain road in the dark (when every deer on the planet comes out). I gave up and went to bed. Honey had a plan to push Winnie out of the campsite, across the road, and outta the way until morning. I figured he could handle it. 
All our friends made it in about 30 minutes apart and even found the campsite. They woke me up enough to hear Winnie’s engine turn over under her own power, which amazed us both. Our car is smarter than we are, apparently, and hence the moniker “the Strong”. (Her name is Winnie because my license plate ends with ‘WNY’).
Our first day in the beautiful 75˚F weather was spent collecting firewood and frogging about in Dixie Forest, visiting our ‘love tree’ where we carved our initials back in 2007, eating too much at the Bear Paw Café, and playing chess. I had a lapse in judgment and sat in the sun in my underwear without sun block for probably 45 minutes; and yeah, Irish girl that I am, burnt to a crisp. My nickname was Burnie McLobster from then on. We tried to catch the amazing sunset from our favorite spot (called North View) but all the wind was kicking up dust and making it hazy. When we came back, the 7th camper had showed up and we moved down to his site for the campfire – there was a family reunion on both sides of our camp, so 20 people where sitting around their fire, drinking and singing ‘La Cucaracha’ to some questionable guitar playing. 
Day 2 we lost two campers (they had to go home) and tried shore fishing. Honey got frustrated pretty fast and we opted to rent a boat after all. We got a small pontoon for five people and two dogs. I caught a fish, but broke my line before I could get him in the boat…which is when we realized we left the net in the car. Nobody even got a bite the rest of the day. I’ve never had good luck fishing there, no matter what bait, lure, or junk I throw in the water.
Day 3 was check out. I thought for sure the other couple would head for Bryce Canyon, since she’s never seen it and it was part of the original plan. They headed home after breakfast instead. We headed back the way we came, trying to avoid going into Zion the back way and being charged for passing through. We went back down to Cedar City to top off the gas, and then took a gamble that paid off a 100-fold. We took an unpaved track called Kolob Reservoir Road. Like Honey said, it’s not really one of our trips until we do something like that – wander off the beaten trail and go exploring. It’s where we’re most comfortable, just us two out frogging about. It was gorgeous beyond belief. We stopped and took pictures in several spots and came out behind the lake, which is only a short hop down to Spingdale right outside Zion’s front door. We went to Oscar’s Café, as is tradition, and had the green chile pork burrito. Did a little wandering in the shops close by to walk it off a little before heading out. We stopped at the apple orchard place, which we’ve driven by probably 6 times, never when they’re open, and bought ginger peachy butter (which I could gladly eat from the jar with a spoon). 
We made it back. Winnie did awesome. And I’ve discovered a handful of things: 1. I want to dabble in metal arts like wind sculptures and chimes, cuz my budget isn’t flexible enough to stretch around $500 worth of perfectly tuned Pacabel chimes nor will it be anytime soon, 2. we’ll have to find ways to road trip despite the recession – it’s therapy I can’t pass up.
3 Jobs
I’m going to start telling people I work three jobs. Cuz ultimately, I do: my day job, Honey’s photography gigs and assistant, and side work, like I did all weekend. I am a ridiculously busy and tired woman. Somewhere in there I need to find time for me, to eat well and exercise a bit.
I had something of an epiphany last night – I’m in the very unique and enviable position of having a man who loves me for exactly who I am, not the body I live in, not the money I can bring to the table, not contacts, connections, or any of that nonsense; just for me. I could weigh 100lbs or 400lbs; it wouldn’t make a difference. I could go bald, lose a limb, become blind, deaf, or severely disabled, and he’d love me just the same. The more I thought about it, the more I realized how lucky I am, and how I don’t know anyone else who can say that. Honey supports me, whether I want to work out or not, have a career or specialize in doing nothing, play Suzie Housekeeper or keep it to the bare essentials of sex and laundry. As long as I am happy and it doesn’t hurt me, he’s happy. I should be the happiest woman in the world…and I will be more often, as soon as I get my own head out of the way.
We went out with friends the other night, most of them the fit skinny types, and though everyone accepts me just as I am, I start comparing me to them and (of course) coming up short. It’s a neurotic thing I need to squelch ASAP. But having thought about it for two days, I’ve realized several things: 1.) I won’t ever be them – my body isn’t built to be a size 4 no matter what I do, 2.) that’s a good thing, because curves are rare these days, 3.) like Connie and Carla said, “tall, short, skinny, or fat – worship that body! It’s the only one you’ve got.” 4.) and maybe most important, I need to love me no matter how I am, cuz hating myself won’t be solved by changing dress sizes. The other thing I realized is that no matter how great this new HCG stuff sounds (who wouldn’t wanna drop 40lbs in a month?) I don’t want to count calories (500 a day? Seriously??). It’s also right in there with diet pills, fad diets, and surgery – I think that’s cheating. I don’t grudge anyone who has success for however long with them, I just don’t think that’s a permanent solution or requires much effort, and in the case of surgery, it’s very extreme and not bloody fair. I love to eat and don’t believe making food the enemy is a solution for weight problems. All bodies are not the same, yadda yadda, etc, etc. My opinions only, take them as you will. Anyway, at one point I was really excited [about HCG]; now my inner hippie and wanna-be naturalist is stomping her foot, telling me how much better I’ll feel and better the results will be if I do this on my own, just for me, and for the right reasons (i.e. health and energy instead of crushing vanity). My inner me has a point, as she often does when her head is screwed on straight. Another important thing, one that should keep the neurotics down to a minimum, is it’s not a race and it won’t happen overnight. I’ve lived most of my life carrying more weight than I’d have preferred and all of the best stuff, the best stories, and crazy adventures have happened just the same. Happiness will not be found on a bathroom scale for me, so I can just let that one go, don’t you think?
So if I can get all this wonderfulness to stick in my stubborn ass brain for more than a day, I should be fine – no, not fine (remember the Italian Job and the definition of ‘Freaked out Insecure Neurotic Emotional’?) I’ll be alright, relatively normal, less psychotic than usual, even-keeled, and so forth.
I've got work in another 30 minutes, so I think a few minutes of well-deserved 'nothing' is in order. Luvs.
I had something of an epiphany last night – I’m in the very unique and enviable position of having a man who loves me for exactly who I am, not the body I live in, not the money I can bring to the table, not contacts, connections, or any of that nonsense; just for me. I could weigh 100lbs or 400lbs; it wouldn’t make a difference. I could go bald, lose a limb, become blind, deaf, or severely disabled, and he’d love me just the same. The more I thought about it, the more I realized how lucky I am, and how I don’t know anyone else who can say that. Honey supports me, whether I want to work out or not, have a career or specialize in doing nothing, play Suzie Housekeeper or keep it to the bare essentials of sex and laundry. As long as I am happy and it doesn’t hurt me, he’s happy. I should be the happiest woman in the world…and I will be more often, as soon as I get my own head out of the way.
We went out with friends the other night, most of them the fit skinny types, and though everyone accepts me just as I am, I start comparing me to them and (of course) coming up short. It’s a neurotic thing I need to squelch ASAP. But having thought about it for two days, I’ve realized several things: 1.) I won’t ever be them – my body isn’t built to be a size 4 no matter what I do, 2.) that’s a good thing, because curves are rare these days, 3.) like Connie and Carla said, “tall, short, skinny, or fat – worship that body! It’s the only one you’ve got.” 4.) and maybe most important, I need to love me no matter how I am, cuz hating myself won’t be solved by changing dress sizes. The other thing I realized is that no matter how great this new HCG stuff sounds (who wouldn’t wanna drop 40lbs in a month?) I don’t want to count calories (500 a day? Seriously??). It’s also right in there with diet pills, fad diets, and surgery – I think that’s cheating. I don’t grudge anyone who has success for however long with them, I just don’t think that’s a permanent solution or requires much effort, and in the case of surgery, it’s very extreme and not bloody fair. I love to eat and don’t believe making food the enemy is a solution for weight problems. All bodies are not the same, yadda yadda, etc, etc. My opinions only, take them as you will. Anyway, at one point I was really excited [about HCG]; now my inner hippie and wanna-be naturalist is stomping her foot, telling me how much better I’ll feel and better the results will be if I do this on my own, just for me, and for the right reasons (i.e. health and energy instead of crushing vanity). My inner me has a point, as she often does when her head is screwed on straight. Another important thing, one that should keep the neurotics down to a minimum, is it’s not a race and it won’t happen overnight. I’ve lived most of my life carrying more weight than I’d have preferred and all of the best stuff, the best stories, and crazy adventures have happened just the same. Happiness will not be found on a bathroom scale for me, so I can just let that one go, don’t you think?
So if I can get all this wonderfulness to stick in my stubborn ass brain for more than a day, I should be fine – no, not fine (remember the Italian Job and the definition of ‘Freaked out Insecure Neurotic Emotional’?) I’ll be alright, relatively normal, less psychotic than usual, even-keeled, and so forth.
I've got work in another 30 minutes, so I think a few minutes of well-deserved 'nothing' is in order. Luvs.
The Bennies?
Honey mentioned tonight how it might be ok if I lost the gig as sales associate and underpaid grunt at the lamp store. He said I’d have more time to help with photo stuff, read the books and filter out the good bits, and though he didn’t say it, help with side work painting houses like the good ol’ days. I’m not, as far as I know, in imminent danger of losing the job. But, the other guy and I have noticed a certain level of neglect, of the building and equipment that has us concerned. The roof leaks every time it rains, the display on the main printer has been blank and unreadable since I started, and we’re babying everything else – the whole place needs to be rewired (properly), the phones are so ingrained with grime that we can’t clean it off, and in rotation usually at least one A/C unit is down (but more often two). A third of the merchandise they send us is damaged to the point we can’t sell it, so our damage costs are always high. They won’t let us do inventory – long story and stupid. The district manager let it slip when they changed the hours to seven days: we’ve got a year to make more money or they’ll close the shop. So basically, sometime around the end of March next year is D-day.
I haven’t really got a plan for that scenario even though I can see it coming. Based on the numbers I track from the registers everyday – we’re not making it. So I started looking for work, somewhat half heartedly. It’s always easier in my head than reality. I applied for 8 or 10 or 12 spots, some in my field, others not. Haven’t heard a word. We’re being fed a lot of BS about how things are getting better (at the shop especially, right before they give us shit about our sales numbers) but talking to people I know personally, it’s bad out there, maybe more so than it was a year ago. I heard the Hard Rock fired all its upper executives and offered to rehire them at lower salaries. Ouch. At this particular moment, I’m not worrying about it. Days prior I have, and I’m sure at some point later I will again. It’ll do about as much good then as it did before (none). Just do what I can and hope that God’s plan is not for us to be homeless again.
I had one of those completely random thoughts earlier: I miss having the leisure time to sit down with a good book, one I can actually hold in my hands and turn the pages. I have several books in .pdf format, but it’s not the same and my eyes get tired faster. Gonna have to start increasing the font size like a little old lady soon. The peepers are starting to burn now actually. I noticed earlier in the bathroom mirror how bruised I look under my eyes – that means I’m tired and its showing. Time for bed before an early morning. Night all.
I haven’t really got a plan for that scenario even though I can see it coming. Based on the numbers I track from the registers everyday – we’re not making it. So I started looking for work, somewhat half heartedly. It’s always easier in my head than reality. I applied for 8 or 10 or 12 spots, some in my field, others not. Haven’t heard a word. We’re being fed a lot of BS about how things are getting better (at the shop especially, right before they give us shit about our sales numbers) but talking to people I know personally, it’s bad out there, maybe more so than it was a year ago. I heard the Hard Rock fired all its upper executives and offered to rehire them at lower salaries. Ouch. At this particular moment, I’m not worrying about it. Days prior I have, and I’m sure at some point later I will again. It’ll do about as much good then as it did before (none). Just do what I can and hope that God’s plan is not for us to be homeless again.
I had one of those completely random thoughts earlier: I miss having the leisure time to sit down with a good book, one I can actually hold in my hands and turn the pages. I have several books in .pdf format, but it’s not the same and my eyes get tired faster. Gonna have to start increasing the font size like a little old lady soon. The peepers are starting to burn now actually. I noticed earlier in the bathroom mirror how bruised I look under my eyes – that means I’m tired and its showing. Time for bed before an early morning. Night all.
Last Long Night - Yea!
So you may have noticed a subtle change on the blog lately. I decided it was time to inject a little funk. The hippie swirls will be around until I get bored again. Let there be color!
Tonight is long night #3, but thankfully it won’t be as long as the previous two. My bed times have been midnight and 1am followed by work the next day – I am half past slightly retarded, I think. We got out of the later gig and I got out of helping caption, so depending on how long I spend chattering at all you folks…I might actually get some sleep (gasp! What is that??).
Tonight is long night #3, but thankfully it won’t be as long as the previous two. My bed times have been midnight and 1am followed by work the next day – I am half past slightly retarded, I think. We got out of the later gig and I got out of helping caption, so depending on how long I spend chattering at all you folks…I might actually get some sleep (gasp! What is that??).
I met Honey in the press area of the gig today – I can’t believe I got where I ended up without someone questioning me. I walked right into the room where the news crew was interviewing winners of the Emmy Awards (Chubby Checker and the Spinners walked right by me) and no one said a word, not even the people wearing headsets and carrying clipboards. I asked at least two security guards for directions on the way in and nobody asked for credentials. Honey got grilled for credentials and he was wearing them! (He also got mistaken for security, twice). Here in a minute I’ll go downstairs and get my camera out of the car, and do my best with whatever software is on this computer, to post the pictures of him in his suit. He looked so handsome!
I noticed last night at Mandalay Bay: women who are all dressed up don’t actually see anyone who isn’t. If you’re not wearing heels and a dress they can compare themselves too, their eyes slide right off you. I saw some things last night that made me embarrassed for the person wearing it. I told Honey if I ever get thin enough to wear a dress and heels out, he better not let me make a fool of myself in my excitement.
Alright kids, off to bed!!
Long Night #2
Tonight I’m sitting in something similar to a college desk in the race and sports book at Mandalay Bay. I can see the Lion King Theater from here. It’s not bad – padded chair, desk for the laptop, close to the restrooms, and with a nice view of the scantily clad booty parading by. Aside from being really early, I’ve got no complaints.
Tomorrow will see Honey decked out in his version of Johnny Cash’s classic attire. I’ll be doing my damnedest to get photographic proof and posting it as soon as possible. (Insert evil grin here).
I was just having a very serious conversation with a girlfriend about her relationship – the serious part being whether or not she should bother continuing with said relationship. I’ve been married longer than most people my age, and to a rather difficult man at that (Honey when you read this, don’t be offended - you know you’re my only brand of madness), so I can give some basic relationship advice, but after that it’s up to her. Indifference is a terrible thing to try to recover from. Also found out I’m missing out on a “girls night bbq” tomorrow night, which reminds me that hanging out with those girls can be very frustrating if I let myself believe any of the touchy-feely stuff means anything. For a girl like me, those are seriously mixed signals. Anyway, live and learn.
I’ve just discovered the downfall to my spot: I’m right inside the sign that says ‘No Smoking Beyond this Point” and a show just let out. Bring on the second hand smoke.
The camping trip is booked. Trying to make it three days instead of two and a half. I’m super excited and can’t wait. Honey’s been telling me I don’t use my camera enough, so I will be making up for it on this trip.
--there are 7 black guys here all trying to hit on two white women, who claim to know all the lines. It’s rather pathetic. Proof pictures are being taken for something that never happened. Haha!
Oh! Oh! Oh! My money hand is itching!!!! Rub that baby like a genie bottle…come to me, sweet Benjamins…
I’ve been town-bound for too long. It’s starting to show.
Tomorrow will see Honey decked out in his version of Johnny Cash’s classic attire. I’ll be doing my damnedest to get photographic proof and posting it as soon as possible. (Insert evil grin here).
I was just having a very serious conversation with a girlfriend about her relationship – the serious part being whether or not she should bother continuing with said relationship. I’ve been married longer than most people my age, and to a rather difficult man at that (Honey when you read this, don’t be offended - you know you’re my only brand of madness), so I can give some basic relationship advice, but after that it’s up to her. Indifference is a terrible thing to try to recover from. Also found out I’m missing out on a “girls night bbq” tomorrow night, which reminds me that hanging out with those girls can be very frustrating if I let myself believe any of the touchy-feely stuff means anything. For a girl like me, those are seriously mixed signals. Anyway, live and learn.
I’ve just discovered the downfall to my spot: I’m right inside the sign that says ‘No Smoking Beyond this Point” and a show just let out. Bring on the second hand smoke.
The camping trip is booked. Trying to make it three days instead of two and a half. I’m super excited and can’t wait. Honey’s been telling me I don’t use my camera enough, so I will be making up for it on this trip.
--there are 7 black guys here all trying to hit on two white women, who claim to know all the lines. It’s rather pathetic. Proof pictures are being taken for something that never happened. Haha!
Oh! Oh! Oh! My money hand is itching!!!! Rub that baby like a genie bottle…come to me, sweet Benjamins…
I’ve been town-bound for too long. It’s starting to show.
Long Night #1
Back once again at the Palazzo. Still not my favorite place, but upgraded from the bottom of the list, which is now occupied by City Center (last time we were there, my SUV, a limo, and a cabby all tried to share the same space – not fun). Three events in 5 days have turned to six events in three. It’s going to be a very long night.
I rode a bicycle last night for the first time in nearly 12 years. (No, I didn’t crash). I forgot how much fun it is, how freeing it feels. While marveling at how awesome the guy was who invented the contraption, we rode 5 miles. My butt hurts, so sitting on these chairs by the bathroom, and later the slot machines, won’t be too pleasant. Also our plans to ride every night are dashed for the short term future.
Our BBQ was awesome. We had maybe 9 people show up and cooked for 20. It was outrageous until 3am, when everyone suddenly realized they had to work in X number of hours and should probably go home. As always, the coleslaw was a huge hit. I’ve found the mother of all coleslaw recipes, one that has successfully made both Honey and I now hate our once-coveted KFC slaw. Plus people are really impressed that I make my own coleslaw; they feel special. So dazzle your friends at the next potluck with the following recipe:
1 bag coleslaw mix (usually about 10 oz)
1 cup mayonnaise
1/4 cup vinegar (it calls for white wine, but I use whatever I have and it’s fine)
1/4 cup sugar
1 teaspoon celery seeds
Salt and pepper to taste
Whisk everything together and pour over coleslaw mix. Combine, refrigerate, enjoy.
In other random news, I learned and perfected the tying of the Pratt knot on a man’s tie. Should you need similar information, I recommend the following link.
I was reading on Mother Earth News the other day about a good ol’ boy that’s perfected putting tractor engines in full-size pick up trucks to drastically increase gas mileage. I’m sure the manufacturers of said tractor engines never intended their products for that purpose, but logic has it that a tractor weighs as much as a car so… Anyway, the guy believes the gas mileage hasn’t improved on American cars in the last 40 years because the car manufacturers and oil companies pay for the political campaigns of most of our elected officials; and unless the American people stand up together, nothing will change. I watched the video of him driving a Ford F-150 onto the highway and back – it sounded like an angry beast that needed to eat something, but it worked. He’ll sell you the plans with color photos for $50 bucks. See him here.
Of course, my first thought was “I want one”. A way to keep my big SUV and get nearly triple the mileage? Hell yeah! Unfortunately it may be easier to have a diesel engine put in and find that book on making my own moonshine, which is basically ethanol without the added gasoline (they did that so people wouldn’t drink it). Neither option is in my budget at present.
I’m with a lot of people: the budget can’t get much tighter. I know several folks who don’t have jobs, are out of unemployment money, and very soon will be out of options. I suddenly feel very fortunate for my $10/hr job. But what do we do? I was really waiting for the massive roads project to put thousands of people to work across the country, similar to how FDR did with the Hoover Dam, and drag us all up by our boot straps. Hasn’t happened. I don’t have the answers. I know that everyone is unhappy with what’s been done, unless they happened to work for the banks and car companies that got bailed out. I thought it would be just as well to let them collapse under the responsibility of their own mistakes. Change, more often than not, has to be violent. I just know it can’t stay the way it is nor go back to the way it was. If we can get past the greed, we might have a chance.
I’m listening to the people around me…grown ass women all dressed up with their friends reverting to their childhood, squealing and blowing whistles in public. Other women wearing clothes that I wouldn’t leave my bedroom in, and all of them gibbering about some drama amongst their friends, that when viewed against the bigger picture, doesn’t mean a damn thing. Between this and working retail for the last year, I’ve discovered that I hate people. The majority haven’t got a clue about anything outside themselves and their little bubble. The destruction that’s inevitably coming is well deserved. Statistically speaking, smaller groups of people, like tribes, don’t have the greed and problems that plague larger society. So in a nutshell, there are just too damn many of us, and we all want. You do the math.
I rode a bicycle last night for the first time in nearly 12 years. (No, I didn’t crash). I forgot how much fun it is, how freeing it feels. While marveling at how awesome the guy was who invented the contraption, we rode 5 miles. My butt hurts, so sitting on these chairs by the bathroom, and later the slot machines, won’t be too pleasant. Also our plans to ride every night are dashed for the short term future.
Our BBQ was awesome. We had maybe 9 people show up and cooked for 20. It was outrageous until 3am, when everyone suddenly realized they had to work in X number of hours and should probably go home. As always, the coleslaw was a huge hit. I’ve found the mother of all coleslaw recipes, one that has successfully made both Honey and I now hate our once-coveted KFC slaw. Plus people are really impressed that I make my own coleslaw; they feel special. So dazzle your friends at the next potluck with the following recipe:
1 bag coleslaw mix (usually about 10 oz)
1 cup mayonnaise
1/4 cup vinegar (it calls for white wine, but I use whatever I have and it’s fine)
1/4 cup sugar
1 teaspoon celery seeds
Salt and pepper to taste
Whisk everything together and pour over coleslaw mix. Combine, refrigerate, enjoy.
In other random news, I learned and perfected the tying of the Pratt knot on a man’s tie. Should you need similar information, I recommend the following link.
I was reading on Mother Earth News the other day about a good ol’ boy that’s perfected putting tractor engines in full-size pick up trucks to drastically increase gas mileage. I’m sure the manufacturers of said tractor engines never intended their products for that purpose, but logic has it that a tractor weighs as much as a car so… Anyway, the guy believes the gas mileage hasn’t improved on American cars in the last 40 years because the car manufacturers and oil companies pay for the political campaigns of most of our elected officials; and unless the American people stand up together, nothing will change. I watched the video of him driving a Ford F-150 onto the highway and back – it sounded like an angry beast that needed to eat something, but it worked. He’ll sell you the plans with color photos for $50 bucks. See him here.
Of course, my first thought was “I want one”. A way to keep my big SUV and get nearly triple the mileage? Hell yeah! Unfortunately it may be easier to have a diesel engine put in and find that book on making my own moonshine, which is basically ethanol without the added gasoline (they did that so people wouldn’t drink it). Neither option is in my budget at present.
I’m with a lot of people: the budget can’t get much tighter. I know several folks who don’t have jobs, are out of unemployment money, and very soon will be out of options. I suddenly feel very fortunate for my $10/hr job. But what do we do? I was really waiting for the massive roads project to put thousands of people to work across the country, similar to how FDR did with the Hoover Dam, and drag us all up by our boot straps. Hasn’t happened. I don’t have the answers. I know that everyone is unhappy with what’s been done, unless they happened to work for the banks and car companies that got bailed out. I thought it would be just as well to let them collapse under the responsibility of their own mistakes. Change, more often than not, has to be violent. I just know it can’t stay the way it is nor go back to the way it was. If we can get past the greed, we might have a chance.
I’m listening to the people around me…grown ass women all dressed up with their friends reverting to their childhood, squealing and blowing whistles in public. Other women wearing clothes that I wouldn’t leave my bedroom in, and all of them gibbering about some drama amongst their friends, that when viewed against the bigger picture, doesn’t mean a damn thing. Between this and working retail for the last year, I’ve discovered that I hate people. The majority haven’t got a clue about anything outside themselves and their little bubble. The destruction that’s inevitably coming is well deserved. Statistically speaking, smaller groups of people, like tribes, don’t have the greed and problems that plague larger society. So in a nutshell, there are just too damn many of us, and we all want. You do the math.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)