It doesn't matter. I've lost the spirit to write about it. We went from Nashville to Georgia. I finally got to meet a long-term friend of mine - Michael. He lives in Hiram. Hiram isn't much to speak of, but Michael was amazing, and his video of backyard brutal wrestling I will never forget!!!
From there we went to Raleigh, but I thought I was going to die the whole time because of storms. In Raleigh, I drank a lot of wine and whined about wood roaches, which are disgusting and wrong no matter what anyone tells me.
From Raleigh to Parrotsville - I love Jeff's grandparents on that side. They're wonderful. His grandma had a stroke, so she can't say very much, but she's sweet and she makes your heart ache. His grandpa keeps up conversation wonderfully and is curious and kind and made us biscuits and boiled apples - with cinnamon, this is very yummy!!
From Parrotsville we went to Kentucky. In Kentucky, we met up with Gela (friend of ours from back here), and her house was gross and I won't get into it (grossdoublegross). This is a speed story, so I can only briefly tell you we ran into a bartender whom we left $40+ to as a tip, because she was quitting that day because the blonde owner was a bitch (she was totally a bitch.). We gave her a thumbs up and well wishes and snuck out quietly. After calling the owner a bitch.
From Kentucky to Ohio. It's a story all its own that I don't know how to tell here just yet. It was life changing, and I didn't want to leave, but I knew it was just a page to turn ...
... Ohio to Missouri, we met up with my little sister. I stayed up much too late in Rolla and enjoyed conversing with new friends and spending a giggly moment with my younger sibling...
... Rolla to Colorado Springs, where we met up with Amanda (previously of Amandatomical). It was a horrible, horrible drive which involved too much tired, TOO MUCH KANSAS DEAR GOD (someone in Ohio compared this to a treadmill that goes on and on - a perfect description), Too much turnpike, and too much too much and we were at her house. It was wonderful and smelled of home and pasta dinner (she made us food!) and warm bread and a guest room and a guest shower and the most perfect perfect puppies ever!
This was amazing.
Onward, from Colorado Springs to Denver, to Rawlins, Wyoming. It should be noted there were real hobos here, with beards and a dog and the hats and clothes and everything that made them train-hopping hobos. This was their ONE REDEEMING QUALITY. I swear to god, on all of the road trip we did not fall into as much ass-hole-ism as we did in Rawlins, Wyoming. There's a little shit-bar there called The Keg or Keg or something, and the old woman in there is about as far from friendly as you can get. I guess tourist welcomings are a thing of the past - we come in to spend money, and we're nice, but you're a rude bitch.
We left there immediately, though we had planned on staying. There was no way we'd pay $100 for a hotel room in a town where people are dicks. Whizzing forward with rage and complaining about them most of the way to Rock Springs. In this little snazzy town, I think we found Bombers. This was a Karaoke sports bar with a bunch of people who'd been hurt or wanted to hurt people or were there just to sing and dance. It was a blast talking and laughing and the food was DELICIOUS. As an added bonus, our hotel room was next door. I was glad we gave this place a try, as we were about to get bored of it, before there was almost a fight from a loud-mouth at the bar.
From Rock Springs, Wyoming to Elko, Nevada... I broke up with Randall here. I'll never forget that. It was kind of awful, actually, but I knew he was headed in a direction I didn't want to go along in. He's still making mistakes to this day, so I know I made the right choice here. I went into a Casino and sat next to a lady. When I hit some money, she hit me. When she hit some money, I threatened to hit her, so she hit me again. Somehow we got to talkin, something... She said "How are you?"
"I just broke up with my boyfriend in the parking lot..." She gave me a sympathetic pat and an "Oooh darlin, you'll be okay" or something to that effect. Can't remember exactly.. She explained how her husband had died of cancer, and how you really are amazed at what can happen over time, or what's going to happen, or the strength of the human soul. Turns out she was taking exactly the opposite of the trip we were taking, and her husband had grown up in Capitola, and she was going to Edmond, Oklahoma. My angel.
Here to Carson City, Nevada. There we met up with Chris (Jeff's friend) and hung out for a little while. There wasn't a lot to say here, though there had been a shooting at the IHOP there not long before we arrived, so that seemed to be the thing to talk about. We didn't stay long in the morning - there was home to be gotten to.
Carson City to Santa Cruz. To Scotts Valley car wash.. To home... It's really been slow since then, but an emotional roller-coaster. I didn't want to break up with anyone, but I am more important to me than anyone else in the world.
...Right?
Monday, November 28, 2011
Thursday, November 3, 2011
a quick jaunt through nashville
I think you have to go through Arkansas to get to Nashville, but I'm pretty sure it's never worth mentioning. Ten years ago, it wasn't worth mentioning either. It's that little southern state you pass through that doesn't have anything you remember. Yeah, that one..
We arrived in Nashville and shot over to Icon Studios to meet up with Betty Ann. It was sort of a spur of the moment thing that we were ending up here (we had time!) so she had to work until midnight. We were exhausted, but I was hankering for a drink and there were at least six bars on all of the corners around the shop.
Which one?
We stood there on one side of the street watching a deck with people piling up on it, but there were too many people and the music was loud and it wasn't our sort of atmosphere just yet -we were sober, remember. There, across the way, was a little sign up above that spelled out "Winners!"
That was it! That was our bar. We were winners. The downside was that it was a sports bar, and we really aren't *those* type of people for sure. Halfway across the street I saw the dingy little dark room beside the other bar. This one had a little sign, nowhere near as big as the "Winners!" It said: "Losers."
"My mistake," I told Jeff, "THAT is our bar." And there we went, where I was mesmerized (as always) by the bartender and her oh-so-southern accent. I have a thing for accents, if that hasn't been mentioned previously. A few drinks in, we were once again remembering exhaustion and moved outside to find/eat some food.
We ended up back in front of the shop, where we actually sat and ended up hanging out for a couple of hours. When Betty Ann got off work, we zipped over to here house, while I tried to resist my sleep yet again. I think I fell asleep sitting up a few times. I can't remember most of the conversations, and what I do remember wont be shared here, but we snuck out at 6am, long before anyone else would wake..
We arrived in Nashville and shot over to Icon Studios to meet up with Betty Ann. It was sort of a spur of the moment thing that we were ending up here (we had time!) so she had to work until midnight. We were exhausted, but I was hankering for a drink and there were at least six bars on all of the corners around the shop.
Which one?
We stood there on one side of the street watching a deck with people piling up on it, but there were too many people and the music was loud and it wasn't our sort of atmosphere just yet -we were sober, remember. There, across the way, was a little sign up above that spelled out "Winners!"
That was it! That was our bar. We were winners. The downside was that it was a sports bar, and we really aren't *those* type of people for sure. Halfway across the street I saw the dingy little dark room beside the other bar. This one had a little sign, nowhere near as big as the "Winners!" It said: "Losers."
"My mistake," I told Jeff, "THAT is our bar." And there we went, where I was mesmerized (as always) by the bartender and her oh-so-southern accent. I have a thing for accents, if that hasn't been mentioned previously. A few drinks in, we were once again remembering exhaustion and moved outside to find/eat some food.
We ended up back in front of the shop, where we actually sat and ended up hanging out for a couple of hours. When Betty Ann got off work, we zipped over to here house, while I tried to resist my sleep yet again. I think I fell asleep sitting up a few times. I can't remember most of the conversations, and what I do remember wont be shared here, but we snuck out at 6am, long before anyone else would wake..
Thursday, October 13, 2011
OKC to Nashville, Tennessee
There is an evil turnpike somewhere between #ginahascopanxiety and Edmond (is that right?) Oklahoma. It makes you pay, oh, about $1.15 in EXACT CHANGE every FEW MILES. Who the fuck? What the fuck? I don't know who invented this idea, but if I ever find out...
Anyway, every mile or so we'd see a sign and go rummaging through the car again, freaking out over the fact that we needed *exact* *change* again. The first sign, we threw together a whole bunch of sticky pennies from the center console. Nothing happened when we pitched it into the unmanned funnel awaiting everyone's disgusting monies. Nothing at all.
The sign said something to the effect of "If this doesn't work, go anyway, as long as you paid'. So we pulled forward and it went BUZZZZZZZ!!!, so Jeff slammed on the breaks. I gave my usual "Whatthefuck!!" squeal that I do when he slams on the breaks. So he said "What?!" and proceeded forward. We muttered back and forth about stupid machines and no one accepting pennies and hoping I didn't have to fight a fine later.
That's when we made it to Edmond, Oklahoma, just when we were at the last of our $1.15 exact change.
We met up with my favorite family in the world - the Kings. Long story straight, we were out to dinner, into bed, and leaving there by 6am to go to Nashville, TN.
Anyway, every mile or so we'd see a sign and go rummaging through the car again, freaking out over the fact that we needed *exact* *change* again. The first sign, we threw together a whole bunch of sticky pennies from the center console. Nothing happened when we pitched it into the unmanned funnel awaiting everyone's disgusting monies. Nothing at all.
The sign said something to the effect of "If this doesn't work, go anyway, as long as you paid'. So we pulled forward and it went BUZZZZZZZ!!!, so Jeff slammed on the breaks. I gave my usual "Whatthefuck!!" squeal that I do when he slams on the breaks. So he said "What?!" and proceeded forward. We muttered back and forth about stupid machines and no one accepting pennies and hoping I didn't have to fight a fine later.
That's when we made it to Edmond, Oklahoma, just when we were at the last of our $1.15 exact change.
We met up with my favorite family in the world - the Kings. Long story straight, we were out to dinner, into bed, and leaving there by 6am to go to Nashville, TN.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
ABQ to OKC
Between Albuquerque, New Mexico, and Oklahoma City, Oklahoma, there is a long stretch of road. Seriously, nothing but a long...stretch...of road.... Or at least that’s what it felt like. We were (at my insistence) driving the perfect speed limit. I was afraid we’d get pulled over (we did like four or five times a decade ago) and cops make me INSANELY nervous. INSANELY NERVOUS. Understatement there. Here we are, truckin’ along in our California plates, excitedly telling Tisha and/or Jason where we were every few minutes. Facebook was my place to post excitedly as we headed between state lines..
TEXAS!!!!!
It’s not as exciting as I made it sound. It was just me crossing lines, excited that I was one state closer to our next destination.
As serious as I was about going the speed limit, it turns out I didn’t notice we were going slightly over the speed limit when a cop passed us in the opposite direction. Of course, he turned around. I may have mentioned that cops make me nervous, so at this point I’m doing the sweaty-shake thing, probably mostly staring straight ahead.
He follows behind us for a second, then merges into the other lane. There, we’re watching him hover in our blind spot, when we pass another cop pulled over on the right side of the road. Directly after, he drops behind us again and this time pulls us over.
The cop walks up to the window real slow, as if he’s terrified we’re going to pull guns out and shoot him - it’s a rational fear, what with those California plates and all. So he leans over and says “I pulled you over for two reasons.”
Two?!
“Number one,” I’m about having a heart attack at this time. I can feel my heart beating painfully in my chest and I’m just trying to remember to breath so I don’t pass out. Yes, that bad, “You were going, oh, about six miles over the speed limit.” Okay, I can handle that, because it’s seventy out here, and that’s not *too* bad, right? “Number two; around here we move to the other lane for a service vehicle.”
“Oh?! Oh! Sorry! That’s good to know! Oh wow...” There’s a string of words that I’m not sure are mine or Jeff’s - he’s completely calm this entire time.
“This your car?” He’s looking at Jeff. I might say something about it being mine - I don’t remember. But Jeff motions to me and tells him it’s mine, so it doesn’t matter. “Can I have your license?” When I hand it to him, I’m visibly trembling, and he says “You alright, ma’am?”
“You make me nervous.”
“You sure you’re alright?” He sends Jeff to his car. We’re pulled over, and it’s hot, and I’m sweating, and I’m having a complete and total panic about this. “Are you a hostage being held against your will?” What?! At this point, I’m like...Woah. I must look like I’m really tripping. I suck in a breath, pull off my sunglasses, look him dead in the eye, and respond with;
“Look, I’m fine. I’m just nervous around cops and he, “ Motion to Jeff, “was making fun of me for it not ten miles ago.” He was, too. “Cops make me nervous, that’s all.”
“Where you going?”
“Oklahomacitytovisitafriendandbusinessand...”
“Ma’am, you need to calm down... I’m just giving your friend a warning. You said business -what business?”
“...andtheshopanatometalandifriendsbusiness...:”
“...You calm down. I’m going to go talk to your friend.”
Around this point, another cop comes by and signals, then pulls behind the first. This is a recipe for an aneurysm at this point, for no reason other than that I have myself worked up. I’m panicking, wondering what to do, when I look back and see it’s only one cop again, and he and Jeff are laughing!
Suddenly, my nervous gives way to bitterness at their air conditioning and the fact that I’m on the side of the road with my window down in Texas mid-day heat. It takes about ten minutes before the cop comes back, “You calm yet?” He asks me.
“I’mmuchbetternowthankyou..” I squeak out with all of the confidence I can muster. He takes my cigarette pack and smells it, then eyes me and explains that menthol's smell like marijuana. This is not the first time I’ve heard this. “Uhhuh....”
“Ma’am, really. I know I might look scary, but I’m not mean.” He was the nicest cop intheworld. He’d kept Jeff back there for so long because there’s evidently a Jeffery S. Ferguson *wanted* in Texas.
Yeah. Then we were on the road. It’d be awhile before I calmed down.
TEXAS!!!!!
It’s not as exciting as I made it sound. It was just me crossing lines, excited that I was one state closer to our next destination.
As serious as I was about going the speed limit, it turns out I didn’t notice we were going slightly over the speed limit when a cop passed us in the opposite direction. Of course, he turned around. I may have mentioned that cops make me nervous, so at this point I’m doing the sweaty-shake thing, probably mostly staring straight ahead.
He follows behind us for a second, then merges into the other lane. There, we’re watching him hover in our blind spot, when we pass another cop pulled over on the right side of the road. Directly after, he drops behind us again and this time pulls us over.
The cop walks up to the window real slow, as if he’s terrified we’re going to pull guns out and shoot him - it’s a rational fear, what with those California plates and all. So he leans over and says “I pulled you over for two reasons.”
Two?!
“Number one,” I’m about having a heart attack at this time. I can feel my heart beating painfully in my chest and I’m just trying to remember to breath so I don’t pass out. Yes, that bad, “You were going, oh, about six miles over the speed limit.” Okay, I can handle that, because it’s seventy out here, and that’s not *too* bad, right? “Number two; around here we move to the other lane for a service vehicle.”
“Oh?! Oh! Sorry! That’s good to know! Oh wow...” There’s a string of words that I’m not sure are mine or Jeff’s - he’s completely calm this entire time.
“This your car?” He’s looking at Jeff. I might say something about it being mine - I don’t remember. But Jeff motions to me and tells him it’s mine, so it doesn’t matter. “Can I have your license?” When I hand it to him, I’m visibly trembling, and he says “You alright, ma’am?”
“You make me nervous.”
“You sure you’re alright?” He sends Jeff to his car. We’re pulled over, and it’s hot, and I’m sweating, and I’m having a complete and total panic about this. “Are you a hostage being held against your will?” What?! At this point, I’m like...Woah. I must look like I’m really tripping. I suck in a breath, pull off my sunglasses, look him dead in the eye, and respond with;
“Look, I’m fine. I’m just nervous around cops and he, “ Motion to Jeff, “was making fun of me for it not ten miles ago.” He was, too. “Cops make me nervous, that’s all.”
“Where you going?”
“Oklahomacitytovisitafriendandbusinessand...”
“Ma’am, you need to calm down... I’m just giving your friend a warning. You said business -what business?”
“...andtheshopanatometalandifriendsbusiness...:”
“...You calm down. I’m going to go talk to your friend.”
Around this point, another cop comes by and signals, then pulls behind the first. This is a recipe for an aneurysm at this point, for no reason other than that I have myself worked up. I’m panicking, wondering what to do, when I look back and see it’s only one cop again, and he and Jeff are laughing!
Suddenly, my nervous gives way to bitterness at their air conditioning and the fact that I’m on the side of the road with my window down in Texas mid-day heat. It takes about ten minutes before the cop comes back, “You calm yet?” He asks me.
“I’mmuchbetternowthankyou..” I squeak out with all of the confidence I can muster. He takes my cigarette pack and smells it, then eyes me and explains that menthol's smell like marijuana. This is not the first time I’ve heard this. “Uhhuh....”
“Ma’am, really. I know I might look scary, but I’m not mean.” He was the nicest cop intheworld. He’d kept Jeff back there for so long because there’s evidently a Jeffery S. Ferguson *wanted* in Texas.
Yeah. Then we were on the road. It’d be awhile before I calmed down.
Friday, September 9, 2011
it started in Santa Cruz, CA.
The venture from Santa Cruz to Albuquerque is, to say the least, uneventful. We made the first trip as about a 14 hour stint, being held up in traffic for an hour to go four miles. I don't know what happens between here and New Mexico, but it pretty much pisses me off that they have this exorbitant amount of cars backed up as far as the eye can see. There was a traffic light to the right at the bottom, so I don't know if that was it, or if someone died and they cleaned it up while we were sitting there STOPPED COMPLETELY.
I can't say there was much more to this portion. Lots of driving, but excited, heading-somewhere driving, versus long-term driving that you will hear about at another time. We pulled over on the side of the road, Jeff and I, and we took a nap there for about two hours. The sun came up, and it cold, but it was warming just as soon as we'd figure it would. We did this before, he and I, ten years ago.
There we stood at an Albuquerque, New Mexico McDonalds, waiting for our coffee to not be torturous (hot as fuck) with my little laptop out, telling my dad where we were. It was seven a.m. and we were squinting towards the sun, debating whether or not we wanted to stay in this town. There were tattoo shops we wanted to see along the way. Steve Truitt. Evolution. But these weren't the type of people who were awake at seven in the morning, as far as I knew.
I put up a post that I there on Facebook, just in case anyone wanted to bite at it. Nothing, as I expected. Shops didn't open until noon, and we sure as shit weren't going to tinker around the bug-ridden state waiting for this to happen, just so we could get possibly five minutes of face-time before these people returned to their jobs and did what they did best on a Friday afternoon. Bad timing, but let's move on.
A steady stream of "When are you going to be in Oklahoma City!?" rained in on my cell and popped up on my Facebook page. With the vigilance of the teenagers we'd been ten years prior, we jumped back into the car and took to the 8 hours between there and OKC to visit the King family.
I can't say there was much more to this portion. Lots of driving, but excited, heading-somewhere driving, versus long-term driving that you will hear about at another time. We pulled over on the side of the road, Jeff and I, and we took a nap there for about two hours. The sun came up, and it cold, but it was warming just as soon as we'd figure it would. We did this before, he and I, ten years ago.
There we stood at an Albuquerque, New Mexico McDonalds, waiting for our coffee to not be torturous (hot as fuck) with my little laptop out, telling my dad where we were. It was seven a.m. and we were squinting towards the sun, debating whether or not we wanted to stay in this town. There were tattoo shops we wanted to see along the way. Steve Truitt. Evolution. But these weren't the type of people who were awake at seven in the morning, as far as I knew.
I put up a post that I there on Facebook, just in case anyone wanted to bite at it. Nothing, as I expected. Shops didn't open until noon, and we sure as shit weren't going to tinker around the bug-ridden state waiting for this to happen, just so we could get possibly five minutes of face-time before these people returned to their jobs and did what they did best on a Friday afternoon. Bad timing, but let's move on.
A steady stream of "When are you going to be in Oklahoma City!?" rained in on my cell and popped up on my Facebook page. With the vigilance of the teenagers we'd been ten years prior, we jumped back into the car and took to the 8 hours between there and OKC to visit the King family.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
true love
For as long as I've known me (and I think it's fair to say it's been awhile) I have been a hopeless romantic, believing one day my price on his white horse was going to come and take me away from everything my life is or was or would turn out to be otherwise. Sometimes, I get as bitter as the next Jo and swear such things can't and don't exist, or that it's all chemicals in your head.
I'm okay with it being chemicals in my head, so long as I can feel that heart fluttering, stomach churning, hand-clamming emotional roller-coaster again. I know what it feels like. I know what it feels like when you want to reach out and touch someone, but they're too far from you, or don't love you, or...
I want to believe that I can have that kind of connection with a human again. It's wishing you could open them up and crawl inside of them just to get that close. It's wanting to bind your body to theirs because you need them *that* much and they need you the same. It's carnal passion and sweet, sweet love that leads you from skipping hand-in-hand through a field to rolling around on each others sweaty bodies in the dirt. Romance. Thoughtfulness. Desire. Promises that are never broken, because neither of you can imagine hurting the other or, gods forbid, going through life without them there.
I want that.
I want *that* kind of feeling again. I deserve that.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
doing laundry
Someday I'm going to have a place of my very own and it's going to magically have its own washer and dryer so I can wash my clothes any time I want without having to drive or plunk massive amounts of quarters (still quarters, by the way? What about dollars? Credit Cards?!) into a rocking machine in a puddle of dirty water somewhere. Current location: Seabright Laundry, on, well, Seabright, in Santa Cruz.
Last night I had a wild hair up my ass and decided to venture over to Alameda Island. First of all, I didn't even know I had an Island an hour and twenty minutes from my house. Like, an actually island so that the land doesn't touch without the bridges. !!! Something about Islands really excites me. So do temples, but that's another story for another time.
Like I was saying, we went to the island, and on that island was a place called "Forbidden Island". Yes. Forbidden Island. This was a place I had read about online - hence the adventure. The place touted its own syrups and juices and freshly squeezed this and that. When you get there, they hand you four pages worth of menu to choose a drink from.
Four pages is a lot to take in when you're trying to choose booze. Granted, I assure you that two drinks in, it gets a lot easier to choose. Unfortunately, the ones with the most amount of XXX's on them were supposed to be the strongest ones - I ordered one of them and I didn't get so much as a buzz. The second drink in I felt a whoosh of what might have simply been light-headedness from breathing in the scent of an incredible amount of elderly people.
Suddenly, while two of us are huddled across an entire couch, (looking like assholes hogging up more space than we should have) a young woman in a white dress flounces into the bar. It's not just any white dress - it's a wedding gown, and she's got her pretty blonde hair all done up in curls. Just behind her is a man in his Coast Guard uniform. "Yes, we did!" I hear. It's a little loud, but I'm picking up the gist of the conversation.
So you're some young kids with some military standings. Sure, it sounds like a great idea to rush off and get married. But do tell me - how are you landing yourself in a tiki bar surrounded by wicker, fire, booze, and little totem poles to drink from?
Our friends showed up a glorious two hours later, just in time for us to have stopped being the aforementioned assholes by moving to the bar. Sadly, our waitress couldn't follow us there. She was sweet and as prompt as she could be for the entire wedding party (!!!) that had just waltzed into the dark room. Now we were stuck with a black bartender who was just starting to warm up to us, a frazzled woman who seemed to think she needed to move quicker and more jerkily than anyone else back there, and a woman wearing a "Forbidden Island" shirt who looked like she wished she could be anywhere else.
The last one was actually quickly becoming a borderline bitch. I find it really difficult to go to a place that people and articles rave about only to be treated wretchedly by some girl with an accent because she's having a bad day. Yeah, well I drove 100 miles to see you smile, so now fuck your bar and fuck your forbidden island. This may be the last time I pay $10-$12.00 for drinks with canned coconut milk and syrup.
Last night I had a wild hair up my ass and decided to venture over to Alameda Island. First of all, I didn't even know I had an Island an hour and twenty minutes from my house. Like, an actually island so that the land doesn't touch without the bridges. !!! Something about Islands really excites me. So do temples, but that's another story for another time.
Like I was saying, we went to the island, and on that island was a place called "Forbidden Island". Yes. Forbidden Island. This was a place I had read about online - hence the adventure. The place touted its own syrups and juices and freshly squeezed this and that. When you get there, they hand you four pages worth of menu to choose a drink from.
Four pages is a lot to take in when you're trying to choose booze. Granted, I assure you that two drinks in, it gets a lot easier to choose. Unfortunately, the ones with the most amount of XXX's on them were supposed to be the strongest ones - I ordered one of them and I didn't get so much as a buzz. The second drink in I felt a whoosh of what might have simply been light-headedness from breathing in the scent of an incredible amount of elderly people.
Suddenly, while two of us are huddled across an entire couch, (looking like assholes hogging up more space than we should have) a young woman in a white dress flounces into the bar. It's not just any white dress - it's a wedding gown, and she's got her pretty blonde hair all done up in curls. Just behind her is a man in his Coast Guard uniform. "Yes, we did!" I hear. It's a little loud, but I'm picking up the gist of the conversation.
So you're some young kids with some military standings. Sure, it sounds like a great idea to rush off and get married. But do tell me - how are you landing yourself in a tiki bar surrounded by wicker, fire, booze, and little totem poles to drink from?
Our friends showed up a glorious two hours later, just in time for us to have stopped being the aforementioned assholes by moving to the bar. Sadly, our waitress couldn't follow us there. She was sweet and as prompt as she could be for the entire wedding party (!!!) that had just waltzed into the dark room. Now we were stuck with a black bartender who was just starting to warm up to us, a frazzled woman who seemed to think she needed to move quicker and more jerkily than anyone else back there, and a woman wearing a "Forbidden Island" shirt who looked like she wished she could be anywhere else.
The last one was actually quickly becoming a borderline bitch. I find it really difficult to go to a place that people and articles rave about only to be treated wretchedly by some girl with an accent because she's having a bad day. Yeah, well I drove 100 miles to see you smile, so now fuck your bar and fuck your forbidden island. This may be the last time I pay $10-$12.00 for drinks with canned coconut milk and syrup.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
is my piercing....
*NONE OF WHAT I SAY HERE SHOULD BE CONSTRUED AS ADVICE FROM A MEDICAL PROFESSIONAL. IF YOU THINK YOU HAVE AN INFECTION......SEE A DOCTOR.*
Infection Vs. Irritation
Infection Vs. Irritation
The Question: How do I know if my piercing is infected??
The Answer:
What many people think is an infection may actually be an irritation to the piercing from outside sources. If you have a new piercing that is going through the healing process, you may see things such as swelling, discharge and dried, crusted matter- don't panic!
Infections can be caused by poor hygiene, contact with bacteria (stop touching it!), or overall bad quality of jewelry (you get what you pay for in life).
Some warning signs of infection:
*Warm to the touch at piercing site
*Running a fever
*Colored discharge
Irritations can be a result of bumping the piercing, body wash, soap, or shampoo (make sure you properly rinse these away if they come in contact). Again, poor polish and overall bad quality jewelry are other contributors to this.
Some signs of irritation:
*Crust
*Discharge
*Swelling and/or redness
Remember: It is important to communicate with your piercer before, during and after you have your piercing done so that you will be properly informed as to what you may expect during your healing period. Also, know your body - if you think you may have an infection, your best bet is to visit a Medical Professional.
From the Anatometal Newsletter by Heather.
more on jewelry
So you've just plopped down $100+ on your new pair of gemmed eyelets or dangling gem navel curve and you couldn't be happier. You've left the shop with instructions from your piercer, except you forgot to ask something: How do I clean this metal jewelry?
It's easy!
1) Soak the jewelry in a warm solution of mild liquid detergent and water.
2)Use a soft brush if necessary to remove dirt and other build up. SOFT is the key here; don't use anything stiff enough to scratch the setting.
3)Swish the jewelry around in the solution and then rinse with warm water. Close the drain first so as not to loose it!
4)Dry with a lint free cloth
But before removing jewelry, do make sure you're all healed up first! (:
It's easy!
1) Soak the jewelry in a warm solution of mild liquid detergent and water.
2)Use a soft brush if necessary to remove dirt and other build up. SOFT is the key here; don't use anything stiff enough to scratch the setting.
3)Swish the jewelry around in the solution and then rinse with warm water. Close the drain first so as not to loose it!
4)Dry with a lint free cloth
But before removing jewelry, do make sure you're all healed up first! (:
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
sometimes i get distracted
Half of me forgot I had a blog. Half of me wanted to forget because it's been a long few weeks and I don't want to have to have time for something else. You don't care.
Let's reboot this thing with more about me, because no one is reading and I'm particularly fond of talking about myself.
I sell body jewelry for a living. When I started, I made it, and now I sell it, seven years later. It's the best body jewelry manufacturing company in the world, and it's not just me being bias. This company believes so much in standing behind their jewelry it's sometimes to a fault. People don't really understand what is put into making that navel curve or that tongue barbell. It's just something to buy, not something to think through - what did someone do to make that?
Someone bought materials, ran the parts through a machine to create them, drilled them by hand, deburred the ends, hand polished them to a beautiful finish, hammered in each individual stone, all just to present you with something you see as a shiny new thing for your hole!
It's fast-paced and always-on-your-toes and sometimes chocked full of anxiety! But it's a wonderful place to be, and I have family there, and I don't really know where else I would be in life.
So that's what I do for a living.
Let's reboot this thing with more about me, because no one is reading and I'm particularly fond of talking about myself.
I sell body jewelry for a living. When I started, I made it, and now I sell it, seven years later. It's the best body jewelry manufacturing company in the world, and it's not just me being bias. This company believes so much in standing behind their jewelry it's sometimes to a fault. People don't really understand what is put into making that navel curve or that tongue barbell. It's just something to buy, not something to think through - what did someone do to make that?
Someone bought materials, ran the parts through a machine to create them, drilled them by hand, deburred the ends, hand polished them to a beautiful finish, hammered in each individual stone, all just to present you with something you see as a shiny new thing for your hole!
It's fast-paced and always-on-your-toes and sometimes chocked full of anxiety! But it's a wonderful place to be, and I have family there, and I don't really know where else I would be in life.
So that's what I do for a living.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
on taxes
Taxes are an inevitable part of life, because humans are greedy, and we don't like to share with each other, but we're perfectly fine with someone demanding they be in leadership - we like being followers and we're not in any sort of position for a global uproar.
So we're stuck, right? I have no problem letting them take part of my hard-earned paycheck to go towards certain things, but why can't I be the deciding factor on where that money is going? I suggest they treat it like a 401k - We've all used one of those before, right? A certain percentage of the money is allotted into certain categories of your choosing, totaling 100% of what you put in.
For example, mine might like like this:
On a yearly basis, perhaps right there on the Tax form, there is a 'where would you like your money to go?' box (this is all just hypothetical), and I fill in the following: 30% education, 10% planned parenthood, 40% general government; 40% non-personal/personal medical - Of course, there would have to be fine print.
*No more than __% can be set aside for personal - like Social Security. Other organizations would have to have a cap, too, I'm sure. It'd take some looking into further.
I'm just saying no one company would get everything, because there are people in this world who believe everything opposite you do - lots of them, actually! I think it'd make it more fun, as if you had the chance to 'spend ' your money.
And how about if you don't fill out that piece of paperwork, yours goes automatically to the general Federal Pie Chart? People are lazy, that that'd sure to be a utilized option!
Just saying. Could be fun.
So we're stuck, right? I have no problem letting them take part of my hard-earned paycheck to go towards certain things, but why can't I be the deciding factor on where that money is going? I suggest they treat it like a 401k - We've all used one of those before, right? A certain percentage of the money is allotted into certain categories of your choosing, totaling 100% of what you put in.
For example, mine might like like this:
On a yearly basis, perhaps right there on the Tax form, there is a 'where would you like your money to go?' box (this is all just hypothetical), and I fill in the following: 30% education, 10% planned parenthood, 40% general government; 40% non-personal/personal medical - Of course, there would have to be fine print.
*No more than __% can be set aside for personal - like Social Security. Other organizations would have to have a cap, too, I'm sure. It'd take some looking into further.
I'm just saying no one company would get everything, because there are people in this world who believe everything opposite you do - lots of them, actually! I think it'd make it more fun, as if you had the chance to 'spend ' your money.
And how about if you don't fill out that piece of paperwork, yours goes automatically to the general Federal Pie Chart? People are lazy, that that'd sure to be a utilized option!
Just saying. Could be fun.
Friday, June 24, 2011
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
get the fuck out of here.
This is too close: Zombie Ants. Too close for all of us that knew it was coming, but were trying to join in on the blissfully unawares. That can't happen! You say, and yet.. yet, there it is! Oh! And Brain Parasites in general. We know about Brain Parasites. They make you do things. Your brain is ridiculously capable of being corrupted, even by itself.
So I'm thinking the next thing to do - after prepping the shelter, assuring canned food, and assembling weaponry just in case - is to convince someone else that they need to make a movie about this shit. No! Seriously! Make a movie about the real Apocalypse and what is possible on a biological level.
Of course, some might argue that it could cause mass hysteria if it was all based on scientific facts. Then people would do stupid shit, then you'd get blamed for it, then.. Well, nevermind, I guess, until someone figures out a clever way to get away with it.
So I'm thinking the next thing to do - after prepping the shelter, assuring canned food, and assembling weaponry just in case - is to convince someone else that they need to make a movie about this shit. No! Seriously! Make a movie about the real Apocalypse and what is possible on a biological level.
Of course, some might argue that it could cause mass hysteria if it was all based on scientific facts. Then people would do stupid shit, then you'd get blamed for it, then.. Well, nevermind, I guess, until someone figures out a clever way to get away with it.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
big long post.
I haven't put anything on here for days, so to make up for it, I will cover a whole bunch of random shit, including literal shit.
1.) The Magnetic Pole Shift will make animals crazy. Also, it's what's killing all the animals. Also It's... impacting navigation?! This is pretty remarkable stuff. Or it could be nothing at all. If you haven't, go read about it over at Wikipedia. Also, would love to hear some personal thoughts on whether or not this is bullshit.
2.) In case you missed this, how about Clothes that Wash Themselves ? We all dream of a lazy day, some place in the near future, in which we can lie out in the sun for 20+ hours to remove the wine stain from our clothing. Or leave them outside... As a matter of fact, I was just thinking that wearing a carcinogen might give me an excuse to continue smoking - Hey, gonna get lung cancer anyway, right?
3.) This is a really novel idea - invisibility jacket . Only, I can't buy it, no matter how much money I have. Things piss me off when I can't have them, but they seem really cool. Even if they're impossible things. Fuck you for taunting me, by the way. You should be ashamed by your headline. Furthermore, not being able to see certain colors under water doesn't mean wearing said colors under water will make you invisible. No, seriously, if you bleed under water, it doesn't come out clear - trust me.
4.) And this will be the last one for now, because there's just too many ridiculous stories to cover in really small paragraphs - that have happened over the last however many documented years...
Finally, you meat eaters can tell those vegetarians to eat shit and still be totally PC. This guy seriously and totally and completely (this blows me away this much) created food from human fecal matter. That's as wrong as mothers breast milk ice cream - and while I might be convinced to go Gaga, I cannot even imagine the taste-testing it took to get to this scientist mans poo-poo-product.
1.) The Magnetic Pole Shift will make animals crazy. Also, it's what's killing all the animals. Also It's... impacting navigation?! This is pretty remarkable stuff. Or it could be nothing at all. If you haven't, go read about it over at Wikipedia. Also, would love to hear some personal thoughts on whether or not this is bullshit.
2.) In case you missed this, how about Clothes that Wash Themselves ? We all dream of a lazy day, some place in the near future, in which we can lie out in the sun for 20+ hours to remove the wine stain from our clothing. Or leave them outside... As a matter of fact, I was just thinking that wearing a carcinogen might give me an excuse to continue smoking - Hey, gonna get lung cancer anyway, right?
3.) This is a really novel idea - invisibility jacket . Only, I can't buy it, no matter how much money I have. Things piss me off when I can't have them, but they seem really cool. Even if they're impossible things. Fuck you for taunting me, by the way. You should be ashamed by your headline. Furthermore, not being able to see certain colors under water doesn't mean wearing said colors under water will make you invisible. No, seriously, if you bleed under water, it doesn't come out clear - trust me.
4.) And this will be the last one for now, because there's just too many ridiculous stories to cover in really small paragraphs - that have happened over the last however many documented years...
Finally, you meat eaters can tell those vegetarians to eat shit and still be totally PC. This guy seriously and totally and completely (this blows me away this much) created food from human fecal matter. That's as wrong as mothers breast milk ice cream - and while I might be convinced to go Gaga, I cannot even imagine the taste-testing it took to get to this scientist mans poo-poo-product.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
animals in the news.
Seriously? She pierced her cats?
I think that in this world, there are honestly people who honestly believe it's perfectly acceptable to pierce a cat. Having witnessed, first hand, on a near daily basis, the intelligence level of the mass population, I think that the judge in this case was incorrect in assuming that the girl should have known that piercing a cat was a bad idea. I don't think there is a law that says you can't pierce a cat, necessarily.
I do know there are laws about mutating animals, however. I do know that a piercing should only ever be a personal choice. I know that this is wrong, and I'm in no way advocating it - don't worry about sending me mass hate mail. All I'm saying is those of you who say "There's no way she didn't know this was wrong..." take a good look around you next time you venture out into the world.
In other news this is an interesting article that should spark up a lot of noteworthy jokes around Christmas time. Maybe a song to replace "Grandma got ran over by a reindeer." It disturbs me that something can just pick something like that up and fly away. Hold onto your children!
I think that in this world, there are honestly people who honestly believe it's perfectly acceptable to pierce a cat. Having witnessed, first hand, on a near daily basis, the intelligence level of the mass population, I think that the judge in this case was incorrect in assuming that the girl should have known that piercing a cat was a bad idea. I don't think there is a law that says you can't pierce a cat, necessarily.
I do know there are laws about mutating animals, however. I do know that a piercing should only ever be a personal choice. I know that this is wrong, and I'm in no way advocating it - don't worry about sending me mass hate mail. All I'm saying is those of you who say "There's no way she didn't know this was wrong..." take a good look around you next time you venture out into the world.
In other news this is an interesting article that should spark up a lot of noteworthy jokes around Christmas time. Maybe a song to replace "Grandma got ran over by a reindeer." It disturbs me that something can just pick something like that up and fly away. Hold onto your children!
this is offensive
Abortion.
There's a heavy word. It makes some people angry just hearing it - people from both sides. Fuck I hate this argument, more than I hate most topics. Much more.
You don't want people to get abortions because of religion, politics, and/or morality (why is it that this is such a reoccurring theme? - More on that later in a 'your opinion is unnecessary to me' blog) so you stop them.
Then they die. Or the kid dies. Or the kid grows up violent. Hm. Maybe you think it's too close to playing god, and/or that it's just plain murder. That's fine. I don't care enough about that particular part of this argument to put forth any real effort. You're kind of right. You're kind of not. Whatever.
Here's the real kicker:
"The people shouldn't have to put their tax money towards Planned Parenthood for abortions."
Uh.
Oh my fucking god, I heard this on television one day from some white trash political 'leader' or another (it really, really doesn't matter, because it's the thought that counts here), and I wanted to tear the cable out of the wall and get rid of it once and for all. I'd still have internet though, and I have to go outside, so... I digress. You, and I, and your neighbor know, as tax payers, they're going to take it regardless of whether or not we like it.
Here are your options:
Pay for the mother who (for whatever reasons, which are HERS TO CHOOSE) chooses to get an abortion instead of raising the child - for whatever reason.
Or Pay for the following POTENTIAL possibilities:
welfare/food-stamps/insurance
jail for the child/mother/father/siblings/etc.etc.etc?
another child in foster-care
another child in....
....
I could go on and on and on about the horrible future in store for a lot of these potential children. It's a cruel world out there. End it fast, don't drag it out. Pro Choice.
There's a heavy word. It makes some people angry just hearing it - people from both sides. Fuck I hate this argument, more than I hate most topics. Much more.
You don't want people to get abortions because of religion, politics, and/or morality (why is it that this is such a reoccurring theme? - More on that later in a 'your opinion is unnecessary to me' blog) so you stop them.
Then they die. Or the kid dies. Or the kid grows up violent. Hm. Maybe you think it's too close to playing god, and/or that it's just plain murder. That's fine. I don't care enough about that particular part of this argument to put forth any real effort. You're kind of right. You're kind of not. Whatever.
Here's the real kicker:
"The people shouldn't have to put their tax money towards Planned Parenthood for abortions."
Uh.
Oh my fucking god, I heard this on television one day from some white trash political 'leader' or another (it really, really doesn't matter, because it's the thought that counts here), and I wanted to tear the cable out of the wall and get rid of it once and for all. I'd still have internet though, and I have to go outside, so... I digress. You, and I, and your neighbor know, as tax payers, they're going to take it regardless of whether or not we like it.
Here are your options:
Pay for the mother who (for whatever reasons, which are HERS TO CHOOSE) chooses to get an abortion instead of raising the child - for whatever reason.
Or Pay for the following POTENTIAL possibilities:
welfare/food-stamps/insurance
jail for the child/mother/father/siblings/etc.etc.etc?
another child in foster-care
another child in....
....
I could go on and on and on about the horrible future in store for a lot of these potential children. It's a cruel world out there. End it fast, don't drag it out. Pro Choice.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
more than you can know.
It really pisses me off when you go to rent a place, and you love it and it's perfect and they love you and "...oh. You have a pet?". It really seriously chaps my hide, but there's one thing that pisses me off even more: The people who MADE these people this way.
"It peed under the..."
"...the hole in the floor."
"...the scratches on ..."
Seriously, you fucking morons are ruining it for those of us who love our sweet little furry babies and have trained them not to do what you have allowed yours to do. You don't have to beat them to get them to understand that pissing/scratching/etc. are not acceptable behavior.
If you had a little accident, there are these things called carpet cleaners that will rescue you from pretty much anything - trust me, I know. There is paint, there are repairmen, and there are things you could do to make it so you don't leave an angry landlord in your path.
I can't even begin to encompass on this keypad exactly how angry I am at this situation. It's beyond me to comprehend how it's even possible that you can be such a lazy, selfish fuck. Stop ruining the world for the rest of us. I seriously, without a doubt, can say I very seriously hate you.
And landlords - it's called a deposit. Get over it. People love their animals, and you're kind of being dicks.
"It peed under the..."
"...the hole in the floor."
"...the scratches on ..."
Seriously, you fucking morons are ruining it for those of us who love our sweet little furry babies and have trained them not to do what you have allowed yours to do. You don't have to beat them to get them to understand that pissing/scratching/etc. are not acceptable behavior.
If you had a little accident, there are these things called carpet cleaners that will rescue you from pretty much anything - trust me, I know. There is paint, there are repairmen, and there are things you could do to make it so you don't leave an angry landlord in your path.
I can't even begin to encompass on this keypad exactly how angry I am at this situation. It's beyond me to comprehend how it's even possible that you can be such a lazy, selfish fuck. Stop ruining the world for the rest of us. I seriously, without a doubt, can say I very seriously hate you.
And landlords - it's called a deposit. Get over it. People love their animals, and you're kind of being dicks.
this post is gay
Over time, humans have evolved and adjusted to their living situation and how they react to people around them. For some reason, there are still people in this world who cease to evolve mentally. These are the people who believe that people should not marry the same sex because... The bible says so? It threatens them? They're afraid they'll lose something if someone marries the person they love?
The sanctity of marriage is not threatened because Bob wants to marry Jim. The sanctity of marriage is being ruined because Brittany Spears can get married for a day and divorced the next. Let's just start taking the word 'gay' out of the equation, then. How did it become 'gay marriage' instead of marriage? We don't call it heterosexual marriage - we just call it 'married'.
For those of you who still have it in your head that these people choose who they love (you're an idiot, by the way), stop thinking that Felicity or Heather are going to start going after what's in your pants, Joe, because you're not ever going to turn their heads. You can't turn someone straight, and if you think you can, I'm just crossing my fingers that Darwinism kicks in soon and removes the worst of us via our own means.
What kind of fucking world did we design, where we are so selfish that there are those of us who believe we have ANY rights to choose what another individual is doing? Doesn't that bible tell you to leave people the fuck alone and let God judge them? Are you really so presumptuous that you think you deserve to make gods choices?
What are you afraid of? Stop separating black from white, gay from straight, boy from girl. There is no need to feel like you need to defend something here, because I promise they're not going to take anything from you that they haven't already taken, and all you're going to lose is that little empty spot in your brain filled with a wall.
The sanctity of marriage is not threatened because Bob wants to marry Jim. The sanctity of marriage is being ruined because Brittany Spears can get married for a day and divorced the next. Let's just start taking the word 'gay' out of the equation, then. How did it become 'gay marriage' instead of marriage? We don't call it heterosexual marriage - we just call it 'married'.
For those of you who still have it in your head that these people choose who they love (you're an idiot, by the way), stop thinking that Felicity or Heather are going to start going after what's in your pants, Joe, because you're not ever going to turn their heads. You can't turn someone straight, and if you think you can, I'm just crossing my fingers that Darwinism kicks in soon and removes the worst of us via our own means.
What kind of fucking world did we design, where we are so selfish that there are those of us who believe we have ANY rights to choose what another individual is doing? Doesn't that bible tell you to leave people the fuck alone and let God judge them? Are you really so presumptuous that you think you deserve to make gods choices?
What are you afraid of? Stop separating black from white, gay from straight, boy from girl. There is no need to feel like you need to defend something here, because I promise they're not going to take anything from you that they haven't already taken, and all you're going to lose is that little empty spot in your brain filled with a wall.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
because i saw you playing with it. that's why.
Why do we all want what we cannot have?
I believe there isn't a soul on earth who has never experienced this as a truth. From youth, we are given the beginning of 'our stuff' - these are the toys and trinkets that our caregivers give us in an attempt to stimulate our brains or appease our appetites. Even if that toy was every thing we ever wanted, it will eventually end up in a corner of the room at some point. Forgotten for the next thing that we absolutely need.
Forgotten until the next appreciative soul comes along and falls in love with your toy the way you did once... There you are, holding your newest something-or-another when you see, from the corner of your eye, Billy is holding last years treasure of choice. This is infuriating! Outrageous! That toy does not belong to Billy, does it? Why, you were just about to pick it back up and spin it around again, weren't you?
And it never goes away.
Remember?
You're still doing it. When you broke up with Simon (bob, jill, jenny, carly, kara, etc.) you might have done so on mutual terms. You might have strung him up and watched him write. Perhaps he was the reason you cried yourself to sleep every night. Amicable or otherwise, a relationship ending is a relationship ending, and there are several truths to what happens next:
The Beginning
Blame. Sorrow. Very few relationships end on a happy note. Even if they do, you'll still get the same results later on down the road. What's yours is yours, what's mine is mine. Something happened to get you to this point. You slept with her brother, she slept with your dad, your bank account was frozen, or perhaps you just got fucking bored with each others shit.
The Attempt
We can just be friends, right? We can use a sword of hated to sear ourselves apart, but don't worry, because later we'll talk about the weather and this years current hairstyle. Suddenly, you pique each others interest again, because you know at the end of the day you're still single and don't *need* that person. A great lot of you are thinking, in that very moment "Well, if nothing else works out, I'll still have ______." Yeah. You're not the only one thinking that.
The End
You may or may not still be talking to each other at this point, but you'll likely be Facebook friends, have each other in your cell phones, and possibly even ask mutual friends about the other every once and awhile- in a platonic, simply asking about your well-being sort of way. But when there is a relationship going on, the other will always know about it. They will know about it, and they will think about constantly.
How did Billy get my toy again? You're out drinking with one of your buddies and in she walks, looking like sin itself wearing red satin that you're pretty sure used to be the sheets you fucked her on. Everything about her is perfect, and your heart is racing in your chest as you remember the things the two of you did. Then someone else has his arm around her, and she's introducing you to 'him', and you're 'my friend'.
And that never goes away.
And you will *always* remember everything good about every relationship you've ever really been a part of. You will always have a hard time remembering why you didn't stay together, or what went wrong. You might blame yourself. You might ask each other what went wrong from time to time.
But stop being a selfish dick and let it go. Don't be friends on Facebook. It'll break your heart. Don't virtually stalk people just to see if they might have posted something about you. Don't accidentally run into each other in places either one of you frequents. I promise you, if you try really hard, you'll remember exactly what went wrong.
I believe there isn't a soul on earth who has never experienced this as a truth. From youth, we are given the beginning of 'our stuff' - these are the toys and trinkets that our caregivers give us in an attempt to stimulate our brains or appease our appetites. Even if that toy was every thing we ever wanted, it will eventually end up in a corner of the room at some point. Forgotten for the next thing that we absolutely need.
Forgotten until the next appreciative soul comes along and falls in love with your toy the way you did once... There you are, holding your newest something-or-another when you see, from the corner of your eye, Billy is holding last years treasure of choice. This is infuriating! Outrageous! That toy does not belong to Billy, does it? Why, you were just about to pick it back up and spin it around again, weren't you?
And it never goes away.
Remember?
You're still doing it. When you broke up with Simon (bob, jill, jenny, carly, kara, etc.) you might have done so on mutual terms. You might have strung him up and watched him write. Perhaps he was the reason you cried yourself to sleep every night. Amicable or otherwise, a relationship ending is a relationship ending, and there are several truths to what happens next:
The Beginning
Blame. Sorrow. Very few relationships end on a happy note. Even if they do, you'll still get the same results later on down the road. What's yours is yours, what's mine is mine. Something happened to get you to this point. You slept with her brother, she slept with your dad, your bank account was frozen, or perhaps you just got fucking bored with each others shit.
The Attempt
We can just be friends, right? We can use a sword of hated to sear ourselves apart, but don't worry, because later we'll talk about the weather and this years current hairstyle. Suddenly, you pique each others interest again, because you know at the end of the day you're still single and don't *need* that person. A great lot of you are thinking, in that very moment "Well, if nothing else works out, I'll still have ______." Yeah. You're not the only one thinking that.
The End
You may or may not still be talking to each other at this point, but you'll likely be Facebook friends, have each other in your cell phones, and possibly even ask mutual friends about the other every once and awhile- in a platonic, simply asking about your well-being sort of way. But when there is a relationship going on, the other will always know about it. They will know about it, and they will think about constantly.
How did Billy get my toy again? You're out drinking with one of your buddies and in she walks, looking like sin itself wearing red satin that you're pretty sure used to be the sheets you fucked her on. Everything about her is perfect, and your heart is racing in your chest as you remember the things the two of you did. Then someone else has his arm around her, and she's introducing you to 'him', and you're 'my friend'.
And that never goes away.
And you will *always* remember everything good about every relationship you've ever really been a part of. You will always have a hard time remembering why you didn't stay together, or what went wrong. You might blame yourself. You might ask each other what went wrong from time to time.
But stop being a selfish dick and let it go. Don't be friends on Facebook. It'll break your heart. Don't virtually stalk people just to see if they might have posted something about you. Don't accidentally run into each other in places either one of you frequents. I promise you, if you try really hard, you'll remember exactly what went wrong.
Saturday, June 11, 2011
orange juice + blueberry + milk + vega + redbull = Sweet Jesus.
I basically just emptied the contents of my refrigerator into a glass and, I must say, it's amazing.
That said, I think it's time to talk a little bit about myself, instead of my opinions. I'm female - most of you will have assumed that and/or figured that out by now. Some of you will have just learned. I live in California, right there beside the beach, and yes, I consider myself lucky for that. The rent is too expensive and it's foggy a lot of the time, but I wouldn't want to trade it in for anything.
I am, at the time of this posting, 28 years of age. I work full time and respect the hell out of my job, and the mere fact that I have a job. I don't think anyone in the world owes me anything, other than whatever respect I might have earned. My job is within the piercing industry, and it's been one hell of a ride. This is an amazing concept - the body jewelry industry lies somewhere between porn stars and celebrities. I've known raunchy and I've known luxurious, all stemmed from the same environment -it's the people, for better or worse. It's the people.
I had a rough childhood like most people did, and parents who loved me dearly like a lot of people didn't. I had puppies and playgrounds and then growing up too fast; I don't regret any of this, and I'm actually quite proud of who I am right now. I'm quiet, but when I think it's time for my opinion to be heard, I'm not going to be secretive about it.
I'm that person you go to when you're ready to be told you're probably wrong, and that maybe, just maybe, it's time to see somewhere outside of your personal bubble. I'm the person who will call a spade a spade, and if you're being a moron, well...
I don't have any children and I'm not married. I don't own a home. I own a car. I rent. I think of myself as one of those people who has potential, but is a little bit... What's the word? Oh, yes, lazy. I'm not much for religion, but I think there are amazing, beautiful things inside of our world or out. There are just too many times you get that feeling in your gut, your chest, your body - the swell of euphoria and the knowledge that we're not so alone. I believe there's something at work, and I don't think it involves a hell or a place where bad people go. I think it's important to have good people and bad people.
I don't exercise often, I don't eat well, and at the end of the day I'm the laziest person around, but right now this is working for me.
I'm not that fond of most people. It's not what the person looks like - it's what the person acts like. The things people say and do blow me away. People are cruel, and stupid, and selfish, and ... This is why I don't get out much.
Brown hair, brown eyes, 5'6" - and that's a wrap.
That said, I think it's time to talk a little bit about myself, instead of my opinions. I'm female - most of you will have assumed that and/or figured that out by now. Some of you will have just learned. I live in California, right there beside the beach, and yes, I consider myself lucky for that. The rent is too expensive and it's foggy a lot of the time, but I wouldn't want to trade it in for anything.
I am, at the time of this posting, 28 years of age. I work full time and respect the hell out of my job, and the mere fact that I have a job. I don't think anyone in the world owes me anything, other than whatever respect I might have earned. My job is within the piercing industry, and it's been one hell of a ride. This is an amazing concept - the body jewelry industry lies somewhere between porn stars and celebrities. I've known raunchy and I've known luxurious, all stemmed from the same environment -it's the people, for better or worse. It's the people.
I had a rough childhood like most people did, and parents who loved me dearly like a lot of people didn't. I had puppies and playgrounds and then growing up too fast; I don't regret any of this, and I'm actually quite proud of who I am right now. I'm quiet, but when I think it's time for my opinion to be heard, I'm not going to be secretive about it.
I'm that person you go to when you're ready to be told you're probably wrong, and that maybe, just maybe, it's time to see somewhere outside of your personal bubble. I'm the person who will call a spade a spade, and if you're being a moron, well...
I don't have any children and I'm not married. I don't own a home. I own a car. I rent. I think of myself as one of those people who has potential, but is a little bit... What's the word? Oh, yes, lazy. I'm not much for religion, but I think there are amazing, beautiful things inside of our world or out. There are just too many times you get that feeling in your gut, your chest, your body - the swell of euphoria and the knowledge that we're not so alone. I believe there's something at work, and I don't think it involves a hell or a place where bad people go. I think it's important to have good people and bad people.
I don't exercise often, I don't eat well, and at the end of the day I'm the laziest person around, but right now this is working for me.
I'm not that fond of most people. It's not what the person looks like - it's what the person acts like. The things people say and do blow me away. People are cruel, and stupid, and selfish, and ... This is why I don't get out much.
Brown hair, brown eyes, 5'6" - and that's a wrap.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
get a pierce for your gauges.
pierce
[peers]
verb, pierced, pierc·ing.
Read: Verb. You can go to your local shop and get a piercing. You can even let them pierce a part of your body. What you cannot do is "get a pierce". That's not even a thing.. Do you have any idea how stupid it sounds when that comes out of your mouth? Oh, right, you're a simpleton.
gauge
[geyj] Show IPA
verb, gauged, gaug·ing, noun
–verb (used with object)
1.
to determine the exact dimensions, capacity, quantity, or force of; measure.
You cannot 'gauge' your ears. You can buy 0Gauge *for* your ears, but you cannot 0g your ear. You do not say "I like your inches, dude", although, after 0000gauge, do you not go into inches? Most people who holler "Sweet Gauges, Dude!" down the street are yelling at someone who has ears stretched (STRETCHED) enough to be inches anyway.
So go get your pierce and be sure to shove some gauges in it, moron.
[peers]
verb, pierced, pierc·ing.
Read: Verb. You can go to your local shop and get a piercing. You can even let them pierce a part of your body. What you cannot do is "get a pierce". That's not even a thing.. Do you have any idea how stupid it sounds when that comes out of your mouth? Oh, right, you're a simpleton.
gauge
[geyj] Show IPA
verb, gauged, gaug·ing, noun
–verb (used with object)
1.
to determine the exact dimensions, capacity, quantity, or force of; measure.
You cannot 'gauge' your ears. You can buy 0Gauge *for* your ears, but you cannot 0g your ear. You do not say "I like your inches, dude", although, after 0000gauge, do you not go into inches? Most people who holler "Sweet Gauges, Dude!" down the street are yelling at someone who has ears stretched (STRETCHED) enough to be inches anyway.
So go get your pierce and be sure to shove some gauges in it, moron.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
share the road.
There was a hit and run on Empire Grade in Santa Cruz today, right up there beside the college. It was a 25-year-old. The vehicle managed to break their mirror off on this bicyclist and send him soaring 20 feet, but did not pull over. Two things piss me off about that - the drivers on Empire grade and hit-and-runners. How the fuck do you sleep at night?
I realize the curves are fun, and everyone is in a hurry to drive the whopping 12-15 mile drive from that little hill to your place of employment. Even if you're commuting, there is never an excuse to be going so quickly you kill a human being. So what do you do if you (oops!) just happen to stumble (?) into murder?
News Flash: If you hit someone or something with your car, it's good policy to pull over. Not only that, but it might save you some good, quality jail time, a few restless nights, and the possibility of having an angry, torch wielding mob at your doorstep/place of employment. Yeah, they will find you, Red/Maroon Nissan with a missing mirror and/or additional damage (think car with bicycle bounce-marks) - you left pieces of yourself behind. Fucking shame on you, asshole. You're the reason things suck a lot of the time. You're the reason your kids are going to grow up in a world full of people like you.
That said... Those of you who take the risk of bicycling up Empire Grade: Not all of you are bad, but those of you who are ruin it for those of you who might go unnoticed doing the right thing. You guys are fucking pricks, and you ride in little clique-d rows and you trail slowly into the middle of the road and peddle a nice, steady too-fucking-slow.
Get your fucking whiny asses into your little bike lane, and quit your bitching. If you want to talk about equality, get your ass down to the dmv, stand in line, take a test, register, fill out paperwork, and purchase some insurance to pay for the damage you do running into OUR CARS.
Ahem.
Also: They're Lights and Turn Signals. Each of the aforementioned groups may participate from learning from them. If you want people to see you, use lights. If you want people to not run into your dumb ass, use your turn signal.
I realize the curves are fun, and everyone is in a hurry to drive the whopping 12-15 mile drive from that little hill to your place of employment. Even if you're commuting, there is never an excuse to be going so quickly you kill a human being. So what do you do if you (oops!) just happen to stumble (?) into murder?
News Flash: If you hit someone or something with your car, it's good policy to pull over. Not only that, but it might save you some good, quality jail time, a few restless nights, and the possibility of having an angry, torch wielding mob at your doorstep/place of employment. Yeah, they will find you, Red/Maroon Nissan with a missing mirror and/or additional damage (think car with bicycle bounce-marks) - you left pieces of yourself behind. Fucking shame on you, asshole. You're the reason things suck a lot of the time. You're the reason your kids are going to grow up in a world full of people like you.
That said... Those of you who take the risk of bicycling up Empire Grade: Not all of you are bad, but those of you who are ruin it for those of you who might go unnoticed doing the right thing. You guys are fucking pricks, and you ride in little clique-d rows and you trail slowly into the middle of the road and peddle a nice, steady too-fucking-slow.
Get your fucking whiny asses into your little bike lane, and quit your bitching. If you want to talk about equality, get your ass down to the dmv, stand in line, take a test, register, fill out paperwork, and purchase some insurance to pay for the damage you do running into OUR CARS.
Ahem.
Also: They're Lights and Turn Signals. Each of the aforementioned groups may participate from learning from them. If you want people to see you, use lights. If you want people to not run into your dumb ass, use your turn signal.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
a day in the life.
Fuck, man, seriously, you can't go anywhere these days. Everywhere I go, my faith in mankind dwindles just a little bit more. Some days, it's actually physically exhausting.
You bitch about not having jobs, and when you get jobs, you treat the customers like they're insignificant. um?
Pay attention: You Don't Deserve Anything.
One more Time: The World Does NOT OWE YOU A THING
Now, stop being an idiot. You have absolutely no rights to treat people that way, whether you're working, driving, walking, talking, dancing, singing*, or talking on your (fucking) cell phone. You don't just walk into life and deserve things. Just because you got hired doesn't mean you own the place - in fact, I think you'll find that when push comes to shove, it's not your side the owner is going to take - asshole.
I'll even flip that coin over and take up the other side, just to keep things fair here: Just because you're a customer, does not-fucking-mean-you-are-right. It also doesn't mean you get to be a douche simply based on the fact that these people are working to serve your needs. No: Fuck You Kindly, Asshole, this is not okay.
So all I'm saying is go to work for more than the paycheck and don't go out into the world being a self-righteous cock.
Thanks (:
P.S. - Hang up your cell phone.
*during most events, singing is actually an excuse to do pretty much anything, because it's hard to be a douche bag if you're singing it.
You bitch about not having jobs, and when you get jobs, you treat the customers like they're insignificant. um?
Pay attention: You Don't Deserve Anything.
One more Time: The World Does NOT OWE YOU A THING
Now, stop being an idiot. You have absolutely no rights to treat people that way, whether you're working, driving, walking, talking, dancing, singing*, or talking on your (fucking) cell phone. You don't just walk into life and deserve things. Just because you got hired doesn't mean you own the place - in fact, I think you'll find that when push comes to shove, it's not your side the owner is going to take - asshole.
I'll even flip that coin over and take up the other side, just to keep things fair here: Just because you're a customer, does not-fucking-mean-you-are-right. It also doesn't mean you get to be a douche simply based on the fact that these people are working to serve your needs. No: Fuck You Kindly, Asshole, this is not okay.
So all I'm saying is go to work for more than the paycheck and don't go out into the world being a self-righteous cock.
Thanks (:
P.S. - Hang up your cell phone.
*during most events, singing is actually an excuse to do pretty much anything, because it's hard to be a douche bag if you're singing it.
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