Here is the ultimate laziness in blog posting. It's too hot for me to think straight!!! So, I'm just going to quote facebook status updates and whatnot, anonymously of course, since I'm not going to like ask for permission or anything.
It feels like Christmas Eve
But I don't want to keep up with the Kardashians, except to bitch slap all of them at least once.
One melted Sisters of Mercy Floodland tape. 1987-2011. *raises fist at heat*
Piper the cocker spaniel is a morning person... or dog!
Is there ever a good answer to "I wonder what the dog is playing with that is making that unusual noise?"
You've got to be a special kind of stupid to slam your stethoscope in your car door and drag it to and from work at least twice without noticing. Thanks to the good Samaritan who flagged me down on the interstate. I'm sorry I thought you were a car jacker.
Apparently San Diego's weather is confused with Vegas in the summer weather today....Me no likey
Wife finds her husband up alone at night. As she watches him wipe a tear from his eye "What's the matter?" He says"Do you remember 20 years ago when we were dating, and you were only 17?" The wife touched at his caring says "Yes, I do. "You remember when your father caught us in the back seat of my car and shoved a shotgun in my face and said, "Either you marry my daughter, or I will send you to jail for 20 years" "I remember" she replies softly,He cries "I would have gotten out today!"
Easy-E would have been 48 today.
Genetic improvement is constrained by the biological production cycle of the bovine so extreme makeovers are not typically recommended."
Someone asked what was my most embarrassing moment. I made something up, because I was too embarrassed to say.. Ever happen to you?
NPR did a little montage of right-wing comments on the new birth control no-copay policy. One chick said "If they're going to provide free birth control and free abuse counselling, why not a free mani-pedi?"
Are you serious?
I'm concept mapping the nervous system and want a really big set of Crayola colored
pencils. In other news, my nerdiness has reached an all time high.
Taught my first creative writing class, drank so much coffee I was shaking and got chalk all over my black dress. Mission: weird poet teacher, accomplished.
A recent police study found that you're much more likely to get shot by a fat cop if you run....
For every minute you are angry you lose sixty seconds of happiness. -Ralph Waldo Emerson
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Funny Weather
So, here in the land of "perfect weather" it rained yesterday on Labor Day. Do you see the irony in that? People flock to the beach, flock to San Diego from out of town to go to the beach, to go to the beach for the last official beach day, and it rains! LOL! It's been so dry for so long, that the sound of rain was unfamiliar to me. It woke me up in the middle of the night. And it rained earlier today, and now it's hot and muggy. I feel like I'm in Florida, not California.
It's so hot that the fish tank temperature was just at the top of the green area of the thermometer. Pete the fish has been so hot that he's just been buried deep in his shell all day. The cats are snoozing on the dining room chairs that are pushed in under the dining room table.
There's fires in Texas, and there's remnants of storms in the east. And while it's not weather, I want to mention that there's earthquakes too.
According to wikipedia, because I couldn't find any other site, there have been 5(?) typhoons.
The economy of the world is not healthy.
I have no job.
It feels like the world is coming to an end. If so, we don't want everyone to know. If everyone decided that the world was indeed ending on December 21, 2012, then the next year and four months would suck. A lot of people would stop working. A lot of people would stop abiding laws even if law enforcement didn't up and quit. I mean, look at what happened in England a month ago. Rampant rioting and looting. Did you see that news clip of this kid who got hurt in the middle of a riot, and these guys acted like they were helping him stand, but they really just took the opportunity to take shit out of his backpack? That's fucked up.
If everyone knew that the world was coming to an end, I would just assume I was going to get mugged raped and beat up before that end of days, probably multiple times. But the pisser would be that no one would be decent enough to murder me. I always assume my car is going to be broken into every night, if the end of the world were coming for sure, I would KNOW my car would be gone one day.
I bet a lot of people would cheat on their significant others. Hell, a lot of people cheat on their significant others now.
People would also take risks they previously would not have taken. They would buy, or rather, steal more motorcycles and sports cars and drive recklessly. There wouldn't be any kind of insurance of any kind anymore, and medications and medical help would be limited, so if people got hurt, they would just die.
People would definitely not do their taxes, although federal employees who worked for the IRS would probably be some of the first people to quit.
I wonder if there would be an influx in the religious communities. Maybe some people would abandon religion while others would take it up with newfound zeal.
The drug business would be very profitable, for those who decided to continue to work, that is. And there would be way less risk with less law enforcement around.
Of course, the scientific community would still have those heroes still working. They would be working around the clock to end the end of the world. Although that would be very difficult, because they would need basic services to keep running, like electricity and water.
It sounds terrible. If it were hot, there would probably not be air conditioning or water, and pools would get nasty and stagnant. Then there would be a huge explosion of the mosquito population. So, then people would start dying off of mosquito transmitted diseases. There would most likely be a consequential explosion in the fly and maggot population as well, with all the dead bodies and garbage never being picked up. Of course rats, mice and roaches would also be rolling in all the shit all over the streets, which would also lead to more infection of the general population.
Maybe the whole human race would basically die off before the end of the world even came around.
Maybe I'm just too damn hot and dehydrated and I've watched that commercial for the Samsung Satellite laptop too many times.
It's so hot that the fish tank temperature was just at the top of the green area of the thermometer. Pete the fish has been so hot that he's just been buried deep in his shell all day. The cats are snoozing on the dining room chairs that are pushed in under the dining room table.
There's fires in Texas, and there's remnants of storms in the east. And while it's not weather, I want to mention that there's earthquakes too.
According to wikipedia, because I couldn't find any other site, there have been 5(?) typhoons.
The economy of the world is not healthy.
I have no job.
It feels like the world is coming to an end. If so, we don't want everyone to know. If everyone decided that the world was indeed ending on December 21, 2012, then the next year and four months would suck. A lot of people would stop working. A lot of people would stop abiding laws even if law enforcement didn't up and quit. I mean, look at what happened in England a month ago. Rampant rioting and looting. Did you see that news clip of this kid who got hurt in the middle of a riot, and these guys acted like they were helping him stand, but they really just took the opportunity to take shit out of his backpack? That's fucked up.
If everyone knew that the world was coming to an end, I would just assume I was going to get mugged raped and beat up before that end of days, probably multiple times. But the pisser would be that no one would be decent enough to murder me. I always assume my car is going to be broken into every night, if the end of the world were coming for sure, I would KNOW my car would be gone one day.
I bet a lot of people would cheat on their significant others. Hell, a lot of people cheat on their significant others now.
People would also take risks they previously would not have taken. They would buy, or rather, steal more motorcycles and sports cars and drive recklessly. There wouldn't be any kind of insurance of any kind anymore, and medications and medical help would be limited, so if people got hurt, they would just die.
People would definitely not do their taxes, although federal employees who worked for the IRS would probably be some of the first people to quit.
I wonder if there would be an influx in the religious communities. Maybe some people would abandon religion while others would take it up with newfound zeal.
The drug business would be very profitable, for those who decided to continue to work, that is. And there would be way less risk with less law enforcement around.
Of course, the scientific community would still have those heroes still working. They would be working around the clock to end the end of the world. Although that would be very difficult, because they would need basic services to keep running, like electricity and water.
It sounds terrible. If it were hot, there would probably not be air conditioning or water, and pools would get nasty and stagnant. Then there would be a huge explosion of the mosquito population. So, then people would start dying off of mosquito transmitted diseases. There would most likely be a consequential explosion in the fly and maggot population as well, with all the dead bodies and garbage never being picked up. Of course rats, mice and roaches would also be rolling in all the shit all over the streets, which would also lead to more infection of the general population.
Maybe the whole human race would basically die off before the end of the world even came around.
Maybe I'm just too damn hot and dehydrated and I've watched that commercial for the Samsung Satellite laptop too many times.
Monday, September 5, 2011
Laboring Over the Labor Day Post
So, I've been pondering this post all day, as in what to write about. First of all, I hope everyone is enjoying their Labor Day, even if you are one of the several who have to labor on this day. As you may know if you have read this blog before, I have not labored for several months. (I will most likely never go into labor.) Anyway, there are a lot of you who have welcomed this weekend and needed the rest. Especially with this high unemployment rate, those of you who are working are most likely working harder to make up for the work that those of us would be doing if the economy weren't in the shitter and we were not unemployed.
Anyway, I think I will babble on about my employment history. That sounds exciting! I think I'll just write until I feel like stopping. If I write about every job it will be a pretty lengthy post.
So, my first job was cleaning my mom's office. That was a sweet job. It was a lot of money for a kid. I was urged to save most of it, which I dutifully did, with the exception of buying a cassette tape or two every week.
My next paid job was not until several years later, in Boston. I worked at Ben N Jerry's. The running joke at my university was that all us grad students worked at coffee shops and ice cream shops, although, I was the only one I knew who didn't have a professional job. This place was a great job! I mean, the boss pretty much worked in the morning, then the college kid took over around 12pm - 6pm, then another kid came in some time in the afternoon and closed. So, there was minimal supervision. The boss totally trusted one college kid to train another college kid to eventually leave on his or her own to handle money and close. I was writing the schedule after a couple months there. The girl who was writing the schedule had quit, and none of the guys who had been there longer wanted to write the schedule. So, it was the day before the next week, so I had to start writing it in order to know when I was working. And, we could eat all the product we wanted. I was eating a cone, a shake or a sundae every single day. Later on, when the FP started working there with me, we learned that we could make alcoholic shakes while closing, that way we could get a head start on the drinking before we hit the club.
Towards the end of my time in Boston, I got a part time job at the Sam Adams Brewery. That job really was very part time, but it was also a great job. I ran the gift shop. The brewery was only opened for scheduled tours, and the gift shop was positioned at the end of the tour. So I only had a few hours in which I had to sell things. The other hour or two was stocking and doing inventory. Most everyone there was laid back and they all loved beer. This was my introduction to real beer. And really the best part about it was that I got two cases of beer a month. If there was expired beer, which was still drinkable, I could take one or two cases of those as well. And of course, employees had pretty much unlimited access to the taps in the tasting room. My friends came to the brewery twice, and we hung out for hours after the place closed drinking the free flowing beer. What a fun job!
My first job in New Orleans was at a business on Metairie road with later was torn down and relocated. Coffee Cottage. It was a coffee shop which also served food. The vibe at this place was weird. I was originally impressed with the owner because he graduated from the CIA. He was creepy, though. And I guess they used cake mix for the cakes! Only college girls, mostly pretty ones, worked there. And he had cameras all over the place. He allegedly locked himself in the office all day long and viewed all the footage from the cameras. I believe he also made lots of dirty comments to the girls who had been there for a long time. Gross. But, I had some fun nights there. Like the one time this girl was talking about rough sex with her boyfriend. She didn't know there was this old couple in the restaurant, and she was talking very loudly. That was funny.
Next job, Spice Inc. Another beloved job, with an amazing chef owner. I got to work there when we opened. It was such a great concept, so ahead of it's time! Before we opened we had orientation and we tasted teas, olive oils, vinegar, and other stuff. This was my introduction to quality ingredients. And also to really good gourmet deli food and desserts. Unfortunately, this place didn't last as long as it should have. In the early days of the opening, it was like a big party. There were way too many employees on each shift, so we spent a lot of time getting to know each other. One of the best parts was closing, doling out the leftover sandwiches (these sandwiches were so delicious) and the leftover tortilla espanol. This was my first taste of tortilla espanol, and I wanted to eat it every day. On nights when there was none left I was always so bummed! Anyway, even if there were no leftovers to take home, the employee discount seemed to be pretty generous, so we always had that.
The job that I left Spice Inc for was the most influential job of my life, to this day. Vega. This was my first kitchen job. I started on pantry, and I must say, this is probably the most difficult pantry station I've encountered to date. There were so many items on pantry! I admit, I just didn't start the job and master it right away. It was difficult. And the place was so busy! I had lots of work related nightmares there! But, my boss was amazing. She encouraged me to develop as a chef. Over the years, I moved up, and when I left, my title was sous chef. Besides my boss, I met so many amazing coworkers over the years - people who have become lifelong friends. And the Christmas parties were always memorable. My boss always wanted one to be better than the last. So many memories there, good and bad.
Windsor Court. I did an externship there one summer in the pastry department. It was a good chance to work in an area I didn't have experience in. It was interesting to work in an upper echelon fine dining establishment. I kind of had an opportunity to stay on and move to the hotline, but I was kind of scared and I didn't stay.
Cafe Negril. Oh Chef Palmer. I miss your soulful food. I didn't cook there, though, I was a waitress. One of my first days there, I watched a fight between Palmer and the owner, because Palmer had left his weed in the freezer, and the owner had thrown it out or given it away - probably to be a dick. That was a fun job, but I made less and less money the more I worked there. Also, the owners, while entertaining, were scary. One owner told me I was going to have to eventually drop off the deposit, and that would mean I would have to learn to shoot a gun and carry one. In New Orleans. No fucking way. They would get shitfaced, and by the end of the night, the one owner would be accusing us of stealing money, all the while pushing drink after drink on us and trying to hit on one waitress or another.
Herbsaint. Amazing restaurant. I did horribly there. I couldn't hack it in that tiny testosterone filled kitchen.
Whole Foods. Fun fun job. Prepping shit all day, watching the customers walk by, answering their questions. Eating my discount yogurt on my lunch break. My sis worked there before me, so went I started, she got like a $100 referral bonus. And some people from different departments would often go to the bar across the street after work and have drinks. And somehow, we always got our surplus bonus every month. I got in trouble during Mardi Gras though. I didn't realize I was supposed to go in 2 hours early to open. I showed up wasted. I got in trouble. I had to make 150 pounds of different chicken salads, which made me want to throw up. The chef let all the boys go home early, and I had to stay til close all by myself.
The Delachaise. I loved getting to do whatever the fuck I wanted, foodwise. I'm sure some of it bombed, but it was like my own laboratory, to experiment with whatever ingredients I could get in small enough quantities. As far as budget and stuff, I reported to my bosses. My dramatic drinking bosses. But, I got to make anything I wanted. I had access to whatever I felt like drinking - on the clock. I didn't really get paid much, but what a fun job that was. Especially during Mardi Gras, watching all the parades go by.
And Mango House. Such great food. Caribbean yumminess. I loved almost everything on the menu. Fun place, cool people, great cocktails! Dirty little old shack though. My sis also worked with me here, although this time, I started first, without a referral bonus. But, I had a great boss who trusted me to run the place when she wasn't there - boy, what was she thinking?! Anyway, I worked there until Katrina. My one gripe was that we had to pay for Christmas party. My boss had hired her friend to cater it, kind of as a favor to him, and so that none of us had to cook. But I like cooking for parties. And I didn't want to pay someone to do it for me. And, his gumbo wasn't that good. He ended up working there for a while, and he was a cool guy, but I kinda always begrudged him that expensive gumbo!
I'm going to stop here. I kinda wrote a little about some jobs here in San Diego in a previous blog. Plus, I don't feel like writing anymore, as you probably don't feel like reading any more if you've actually read this whole thing! And anyway, how much can one go on about themselves anyway? Blah, blah blabbity blah.
Anyway, I think I will babble on about my employment history. That sounds exciting! I think I'll just write until I feel like stopping. If I write about every job it will be a pretty lengthy post.
So, my first job was cleaning my mom's office. That was a sweet job. It was a lot of money for a kid. I was urged to save most of it, which I dutifully did, with the exception of buying a cassette tape or two every week.
My next paid job was not until several years later, in Boston. I worked at Ben N Jerry's. The running joke at my university was that all us grad students worked at coffee shops and ice cream shops, although, I was the only one I knew who didn't have a professional job. This place was a great job! I mean, the boss pretty much worked in the morning, then the college kid took over around 12pm - 6pm, then another kid came in some time in the afternoon and closed. So, there was minimal supervision. The boss totally trusted one college kid to train another college kid to eventually leave on his or her own to handle money and close. I was writing the schedule after a couple months there. The girl who was writing the schedule had quit, and none of the guys who had been there longer wanted to write the schedule. So, it was the day before the next week, so I had to start writing it in order to know when I was working. And, we could eat all the product we wanted. I was eating a cone, a shake or a sundae every single day. Later on, when the FP started working there with me, we learned that we could make alcoholic shakes while closing, that way we could get a head start on the drinking before we hit the club.
Towards the end of my time in Boston, I got a part time job at the Sam Adams Brewery. That job really was very part time, but it was also a great job. I ran the gift shop. The brewery was only opened for scheduled tours, and the gift shop was positioned at the end of the tour. So I only had a few hours in which I had to sell things. The other hour or two was stocking and doing inventory. Most everyone there was laid back and they all loved beer. This was my introduction to real beer. And really the best part about it was that I got two cases of beer a month. If there was expired beer, which was still drinkable, I could take one or two cases of those as well. And of course, employees had pretty much unlimited access to the taps in the tasting room. My friends came to the brewery twice, and we hung out for hours after the place closed drinking the free flowing beer. What a fun job!
My first job in New Orleans was at a business on Metairie road with later was torn down and relocated. Coffee Cottage. It was a coffee shop which also served food. The vibe at this place was weird. I was originally impressed with the owner because he graduated from the CIA. He was creepy, though. And I guess they used cake mix for the cakes! Only college girls, mostly pretty ones, worked there. And he had cameras all over the place. He allegedly locked himself in the office all day long and viewed all the footage from the cameras. I believe he also made lots of dirty comments to the girls who had been there for a long time. Gross. But, I had some fun nights there. Like the one time this girl was talking about rough sex with her boyfriend. She didn't know there was this old couple in the restaurant, and she was talking very loudly. That was funny.
Next job, Spice Inc. Another beloved job, with an amazing chef owner. I got to work there when we opened. It was such a great concept, so ahead of it's time! Before we opened we had orientation and we tasted teas, olive oils, vinegar, and other stuff. This was my introduction to quality ingredients. And also to really good gourmet deli food and desserts. Unfortunately, this place didn't last as long as it should have. In the early days of the opening, it was like a big party. There were way too many employees on each shift, so we spent a lot of time getting to know each other. One of the best parts was closing, doling out the leftover sandwiches (these sandwiches were so delicious) and the leftover tortilla espanol. This was my first taste of tortilla espanol, and I wanted to eat it every day. On nights when there was none left I was always so bummed! Anyway, even if there were no leftovers to take home, the employee discount seemed to be pretty generous, so we always had that.
The job that I left Spice Inc for was the most influential job of my life, to this day. Vega. This was my first kitchen job. I started on pantry, and I must say, this is probably the most difficult pantry station I've encountered to date. There were so many items on pantry! I admit, I just didn't start the job and master it right away. It was difficult. And the place was so busy! I had lots of work related nightmares there! But, my boss was amazing. She encouraged me to develop as a chef. Over the years, I moved up, and when I left, my title was sous chef. Besides my boss, I met so many amazing coworkers over the years - people who have become lifelong friends. And the Christmas parties were always memorable. My boss always wanted one to be better than the last. So many memories there, good and bad.
Windsor Court. I did an externship there one summer in the pastry department. It was a good chance to work in an area I didn't have experience in. It was interesting to work in an upper echelon fine dining establishment. I kind of had an opportunity to stay on and move to the hotline, but I was kind of scared and I didn't stay.
Cafe Negril. Oh Chef Palmer. I miss your soulful food. I didn't cook there, though, I was a waitress. One of my first days there, I watched a fight between Palmer and the owner, because Palmer had left his weed in the freezer, and the owner had thrown it out or given it away - probably to be a dick. That was a fun job, but I made less and less money the more I worked there. Also, the owners, while entertaining, were scary. One owner told me I was going to have to eventually drop off the deposit, and that would mean I would have to learn to shoot a gun and carry one. In New Orleans. No fucking way. They would get shitfaced, and by the end of the night, the one owner would be accusing us of stealing money, all the while pushing drink after drink on us and trying to hit on one waitress or another.
Herbsaint. Amazing restaurant. I did horribly there. I couldn't hack it in that tiny testosterone filled kitchen.
Whole Foods. Fun fun job. Prepping shit all day, watching the customers walk by, answering their questions. Eating my discount yogurt on my lunch break. My sis worked there before me, so went I started, she got like a $100 referral bonus. And some people from different departments would often go to the bar across the street after work and have drinks. And somehow, we always got our surplus bonus every month. I got in trouble during Mardi Gras though. I didn't realize I was supposed to go in 2 hours early to open. I showed up wasted. I got in trouble. I had to make 150 pounds of different chicken salads, which made me want to throw up. The chef let all the boys go home early, and I had to stay til close all by myself.
The Delachaise. I loved getting to do whatever the fuck I wanted, foodwise. I'm sure some of it bombed, but it was like my own laboratory, to experiment with whatever ingredients I could get in small enough quantities. As far as budget and stuff, I reported to my bosses. My dramatic drinking bosses. But, I got to make anything I wanted. I had access to whatever I felt like drinking - on the clock. I didn't really get paid much, but what a fun job that was. Especially during Mardi Gras, watching all the parades go by.
And Mango House. Such great food. Caribbean yumminess. I loved almost everything on the menu. Fun place, cool people, great cocktails! Dirty little old shack though. My sis also worked with me here, although this time, I started first, without a referral bonus. But, I had a great boss who trusted me to run the place when she wasn't there - boy, what was she thinking?! Anyway, I worked there until Katrina. My one gripe was that we had to pay for Christmas party. My boss had hired her friend to cater it, kind of as a favor to him, and so that none of us had to cook. But I like cooking for parties. And I didn't want to pay someone to do it for me. And, his gumbo wasn't that good. He ended up working there for a while, and he was a cool guy, but I kinda always begrudged him that expensive gumbo!
I'm going to stop here. I kinda wrote a little about some jobs here in San Diego in a previous blog. Plus, I don't feel like writing anymore, as you probably don't feel like reading any more if you've actually read this whole thing! And anyway, how much can one go on about themselves anyway? Blah, blah blabbity blah.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Who Walked Into The Bar?
I had a couple of glasses of sangria today, and we finished recording a song. Yes, we are like Sonny & Cher...
Anyhoo, I got loopy off that little amount of sangria due to my impaired tolerance of alcohol. And writing lyrics and trying to sing and record them for the first time is very taxing, because I can't sing too good. So, this is my excuse for an abbreviated blog tonight!
A "Fill In The Blank" walked into the bar jokes. You know these. I remember seeing an improv comedy troupe make up jokes on the fly, and it always left a lasting impression on me that they could just spout these out. So, some of these are mine, some are not. But, I did not google these jokes. That's probably a bad thing.
A portobello mushroom walks into a bar, orders a beer. The bartender replies, we don't serve your kind here. The portobello replies, Why not, I'm a fungi?
A ham sandwich walks into a bar, orders a beer. The bartender replies, sorry, we don't serve food here.
A wrench walks into a bar and orders a half and half. The bartender replies, don't be such a tool.
A tabby cat slinks into a bar and orders a coors light. The bartender replies, you're such a pussy.
An old dog walks into a bar and orders a beer. He laps it up and leaves. A three legged puppy walks in and asks, have you seen my paw?
A termite walks into a bar and asks, where is the bar tender?
A penis walks into a bar and orders a beer. The bartender says, we don't serve your kind here. The penis replies, oh blow me, you probably couldn't even give me one inch head anyway!
A vagina storms into a bar and yells at the bartender, you fingered me! The bartender replies, that's the only way I could tell it was you in the police lineup!
A beer walks into a bar and orders a beer. The bartender asks, what are you, a cannibal? The beer replies, no, I'm lonely.
Got any better ones?
Anyhoo, I got loopy off that little amount of sangria due to my impaired tolerance of alcohol. And writing lyrics and trying to sing and record them for the first time is very taxing, because I can't sing too good. So, this is my excuse for an abbreviated blog tonight!
A "Fill In The Blank" walked into the bar jokes. You know these. I remember seeing an improv comedy troupe make up jokes on the fly, and it always left a lasting impression on me that they could just spout these out. So, some of these are mine, some are not. But, I did not google these jokes. That's probably a bad thing.
A portobello mushroom walks into a bar, orders a beer. The bartender replies, we don't serve your kind here. The portobello replies, Why not, I'm a fungi?
A ham sandwich walks into a bar, orders a beer. The bartender replies, sorry, we don't serve food here.
A wrench walks into a bar and orders a half and half. The bartender replies, don't be such a tool.
A tabby cat slinks into a bar and orders a coors light. The bartender replies, you're such a pussy.
An old dog walks into a bar and orders a beer. He laps it up and leaves. A three legged puppy walks in and asks, have you seen my paw?
A termite walks into a bar and asks, where is the bar tender?
A penis walks into a bar and orders a beer. The bartender says, we don't serve your kind here. The penis replies, oh blow me, you probably couldn't even give me one inch head anyway!
A vagina storms into a bar and yells at the bartender, you fingered me! The bartender replies, that's the only way I could tell it was you in the police lineup!
A beer walks into a bar and orders a beer. The bartender asks, what are you, a cannibal? The beer replies, no, I'm lonely.
Got any better ones?
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Fruity Clean
So, as you might know, I don't always shower daily. I don't want to strip my aging skin of essential oils by over showering and drying out my skin. Nah, that's not really why. I just don't feel the need to shower to sit around the apartment all day long and alternate between blogging, going on facebook, craigslist and ebay, and watching That 70s show (which is always on).
However, when I do shower, I end up smelling like ambrosia salad. I have been using the same brand shampoo and conditioner for years. Why? Just because one day I was walking down the street, and a woman I was passing stopped me and said my hair smelled great. She asked what shampoo I used. Garnier Fructis, I replied. An unfamiliar female complimenting my hair is one of the ultimate compliments. Okay, I have tried other shampoos at around the same price point, but they're not as good. Anyway, it smells citrusy fresh.
So then, there's the soap. We've become a body wash family. The FP is so manly that he isn't afraid to also smell like a fruit salad. We don't have a go to brand of body wash, but I will say the cheapest ones are not a bargain. They are really too watery, and they leave one feeling not so fresh unless one uses way more product. Currently, we are using Clean and Clear mango papaya flavored soap with bursting beads filled with fruit extract. Personally, I would prefer to have a creamy relaxing moisturizing body wash, and an exfoliating energizing one as well. But, sadly, we are not a two body wash income family. One of the more memorable flavors is the suave coconut one with bits of coconut husk for scrubbing action. But, you know, there's like any flavor available, really, apricot, orange, tangerine, strawberry, raspberry, green tea, chamomile, lavender, passion fruit, kiwi, mango, cocoa, vanilla, acai berry, cucumber. You name it, there is probably a soap somewhere with that fragrance.
Of course, there's also the important hair serum for after. Currently, I'm using this coconut milk flavored stuff that smells like coconut cake. I love it. I'm like a walking dessert. I'm like tutti frutti gelato.
Not everyone is big on smelling like sweets, though. I really don't quite understand it, but that is the way it is. Especially guys. Those manly body washes are usually overbearing. They just smell like cheap cologne to me. If we stick with the food theme, body washes for men could be more...savory. Like, steak. How's that for a manly smell? Or fried chicken. I love the smell of fried chicken! Maybe even french fries. Spaghetti and meatballs, pizza, philly cheesesteak? There could be non edible scents as well, I guess. Fresh cut grass - nothing more manly than that. Brand new sneakers? For the rock stars - Fender Telecaster or Gibson Les Paul. Crisp hundred dollar bill. Gold jewelry. New luxury sports car smell? So, the guy wouldn't have to actually have the car, he could just smell like it, way cheaper. So, who wants to start a male body wash line of products? We will blow Axe away!
However, when I do shower, I end up smelling like ambrosia salad. I have been using the same brand shampoo and conditioner for years. Why? Just because one day I was walking down the street, and a woman I was passing stopped me and said my hair smelled great. She asked what shampoo I used. Garnier Fructis, I replied. An unfamiliar female complimenting my hair is one of the ultimate compliments. Okay, I have tried other shampoos at around the same price point, but they're not as good. Anyway, it smells citrusy fresh.
So then, there's the soap. We've become a body wash family. The FP is so manly that he isn't afraid to also smell like a fruit salad. We don't have a go to brand of body wash, but I will say the cheapest ones are not a bargain. They are really too watery, and they leave one feeling not so fresh unless one uses way more product. Currently, we are using Clean and Clear mango papaya flavored soap with bursting beads filled with fruit extract. Personally, I would prefer to have a creamy relaxing moisturizing body wash, and an exfoliating energizing one as well. But, sadly, we are not a two body wash income family. One of the more memorable flavors is the suave coconut one with bits of coconut husk for scrubbing action. But, you know, there's like any flavor available, really, apricot, orange, tangerine, strawberry, raspberry, green tea, chamomile, lavender, passion fruit, kiwi, mango, cocoa, vanilla, acai berry, cucumber. You name it, there is probably a soap somewhere with that fragrance.
Of course, there's also the important hair serum for after. Currently, I'm using this coconut milk flavored stuff that smells like coconut cake. I love it. I'm like a walking dessert. I'm like tutti frutti gelato.
Not everyone is big on smelling like sweets, though. I really don't quite understand it, but that is the way it is. Especially guys. Those manly body washes are usually overbearing. They just smell like cheap cologne to me. If we stick with the food theme, body washes for men could be more...savory. Like, steak. How's that for a manly smell? Or fried chicken. I love the smell of fried chicken! Maybe even french fries. Spaghetti and meatballs, pizza, philly cheesesteak? There could be non edible scents as well, I guess. Fresh cut grass - nothing more manly than that. Brand new sneakers? For the rock stars - Fender Telecaster or Gibson Les Paul. Crisp hundred dollar bill. Gold jewelry. New luxury sports car smell? So, the guy wouldn't have to actually have the car, he could just smell like it, way cheaper. So, who wants to start a male body wash line of products? We will blow Axe away!
Friday, September 2, 2011
Technology Sick
So, I'm not exactly sure how many people read this blog. The stats say I get an average of...7 views a day. I'm guessing that probably 4 out of 7 of you have a smartphone - 3 of them being iphones. Those 4 of you probably have your phone at easy access at least 90% of your waking day. The other 3, more like 80%, depending on your career, family, etc.
How many of you smartyphonepants scroll through facebook when you are waiting for your order at a restaurant? Or, you at least look at your phone every time you get a notification? How many of you can say you look at your phone about 3 times an hour?
I do not have a smart phone, so I can say my phone is not glued to the palm of my hand. (Remember palm pilots?) I do have a phone with a slide out keyboard for easy text messaging, though. I have this simple tween phone that has limited memory and basic internet access. It's good for when I'm somewhere bored or killing time waiting for something and I can kind of go on facebook or check my email. Forget about trying to use it for directions, though.
I get tired watching the FP fish his iphone out of his pants every time someone calls or texts him. He has to whip it out right then to see what's up. This is really annoying to me when he's driving. It's pretty much illegal to just look at your cellphone without a hands free device while driving here in Cali, even though I still always see people merging slowly and unsteadily onto the Interstate while talking on their phone. I know that the FP refrains from answering the phone and tries not to read texts when I am in the passenger seat, but I'm sure he's more liberal with using the phone in the car when I'm not present.
For me, the laptop computer is my technological instrument of choice. I do find myself gravitating towards the computer up to 10 times a day, many of those times for several hours, some for just a minute. Having a new faster computer has definitely cut my TV watching time by a third. Well, I don't know if you want to count when I am on the computer and the TV is on as both computer time and TV time.
However, as much as I value this computer, I still feel ill when I sit down in front of it and open a Safari browser to realize I have no reason to be on the computer. Surely there is something else I could be doing with my time. But, it's like a tic. Like you smartyphonepants people with your smartyphones.
And I'm not really going to go too much into the whole tablet, ipad thing. I get them. They are really cool. I would love to be a newscaster so I could use one to aid me in my reporting of the news. But, you people who have an iphone, an ipad and a macbook, and you carry them all around together, how do you decided when to use which device? (Okay, maybe I will delve into the ipad thing a little.) I mean, it seems like it would reduce your iphone to just a phone - because for other iphone utilities, you would want to use your ipad, and I guess the macbook would only be pulled out for heavy duty computing jobs, long emails, document creation, porn. I don't know, maybe the ipad is just as effective for porn. But do you really need to tote around all three? I mean, I guess if I had all three maybe I would carry them all around because they would be three of my most valuable possessions that are portable. But I don't want an iphone because the monthly usage is expensive, and I don't feel like I need an ipad and a laptop. I guess if someone gave me an ipad I'd take it, but I don't think there is any other circumstance in which I would get one. I guess if I won the lottery. If I won the lottery I would probably buy and ipad.
Whenever there's a natural disaster like Irene, it's big news how the power went out and people had to deal with no communications and no traditional form of entertainment. TV and video games are now traditional forms of entertainment. Reading a paperback or hardback book, having an in person conversation without a phone in your hand, playing an acoustic guitar that isn't wirelessly connected to a video game are quickly becoming nontraditional forms of entertainment.
I'm not really the camping type, but it sure sounds nice to go out into some remote area where there is no 3G, 4G, GPS, Onstar or wifi signal and just be there for a couple days. But without the signal, how the hell would we figure out how to get there and how to get back out? And once we got there, what would we do? Look at nature? Would it be as vivid as the documentaries of nature are on my flatscreen TV? And how would I share this experience with people if I couldn't click a picture on the FP's iphone and post it on facebook? And if someone couldn't get a hold of me, would the world stop spinning on it's axis? If I were in some remote area for a couple of days, surely some emergency would come up, Les Stroud style, and how would I be able to survive that? I think I would die of dehydration in 2 days, starvation in 4.
Do you even remember the days before cellphones? Some people in the world are not old enough to remember this time. These people must watch Seinfeld and think, that's not funny, all he would have to do is call and text her and the problem would be solved. You know, there's something to be said about that time, and respecting others' privacy, space, and down time. I mean, as far as most jobs go, if the boss calls and you don't answer and call back within half an hour, it's a big deal and you will be questioned as to why you did not pick up the phone. People are expected to have their phone on the table next to them or in their pocket, ringer on, vibrator on. What if you got in trouble for not answering the phone when your boss called? Would you say "I'm sorry, I was in the middle of some hot and heavy tantric sex that lasted for hours and I couldn't hear the phone over our screams of ecstasy?" I mean, is that appropriate, or are you supposed to have the ringer turned up even louder for such occasion?
It's funny because it's harder to just avoid people. You know, you have the buddy who is always on his iphone. You call him or text him to go for a drink, or to help you with a flat tire or whatever. He doesn't answer, doesn't respond, you don't hear from him for days. And you're pissed. You know he saw your message and didn't have the courtesy to respond. In this time of technology overload, are we now required to explain every time we ignore someone's call?
What's also funny is how one friend, Gordy, holds a long standing grudge against another friend, Sandy, for such an incident. Gordy was walking or biking down a street, and he saw Sandy across the street ahead of him. Gordy called Sandy (they both have iphones), and he watched Sandy pull out his iphone, look at the incoming call, and hit decline. Gordy never forgave Sandy, but he never told him what happened either. This is a little funny to me, because whenever the FP used to text Gordy and ask him to go to the Bluefoot for drinks after they had planned it ahead of time, Gordy would often not respond at all. At all. And Gordy was the first of our local friends to get an iphone, way back when. And we knew he always had it with him, and he was always using it. So, he couldn't possibly have the excuse that he didn't see the message. So, what would the excuse be? And why was it okay for Gordy to not respond to the FP, but get mad at Sandy only because he witnessed Sandy declining the call.
And is no one worried about getting cancer from cellphones anymore? When I used to keep my cellphone in my right pocket 8 hours a day during work, I developed spider veins on my thigh, right where my cell phone rested. I stopped keeping my phone in my pocket and put it on the shelf with easy access instead. The spider veins stopped forming since then. Of course, I can't prove that the cell phone caused the spider veins, and I can't say that spider veins would lead to cancer. But, I can tell you what I observed, and I prefer to not have my cell phone directly on my person. Maybe years down the road there will be a study about cell phone usage by type of phone, amount of usage and health problems. Hopefully, we the people who don't use our phones as much will finally be seen as smart for not having a smartphone!
How many of you smartyphonepants scroll through facebook when you are waiting for your order at a restaurant? Or, you at least look at your phone every time you get a notification? How many of you can say you look at your phone about 3 times an hour?
I do not have a smart phone, so I can say my phone is not glued to the palm of my hand. (Remember palm pilots?) I do have a phone with a slide out keyboard for easy text messaging, though. I have this simple tween phone that has limited memory and basic internet access. It's good for when I'm somewhere bored or killing time waiting for something and I can kind of go on facebook or check my email. Forget about trying to use it for directions, though.
I get tired watching the FP fish his iphone out of his pants every time someone calls or texts him. He has to whip it out right then to see what's up. This is really annoying to me when he's driving. It's pretty much illegal to just look at your cellphone without a hands free device while driving here in Cali, even though I still always see people merging slowly and unsteadily onto the Interstate while talking on their phone. I know that the FP refrains from answering the phone and tries not to read texts when I am in the passenger seat, but I'm sure he's more liberal with using the phone in the car when I'm not present.
For me, the laptop computer is my technological instrument of choice. I do find myself gravitating towards the computer up to 10 times a day, many of those times for several hours, some for just a minute. Having a new faster computer has definitely cut my TV watching time by a third. Well, I don't know if you want to count when I am on the computer and the TV is on as both computer time and TV time.
However, as much as I value this computer, I still feel ill when I sit down in front of it and open a Safari browser to realize I have no reason to be on the computer. Surely there is something else I could be doing with my time. But, it's like a tic. Like you smartyphonepants people with your smartyphones.
And I'm not really going to go too much into the whole tablet, ipad thing. I get them. They are really cool. I would love to be a newscaster so I could use one to aid me in my reporting of the news. But, you people who have an iphone, an ipad and a macbook, and you carry them all around together, how do you decided when to use which device? (Okay, maybe I will delve into the ipad thing a little.) I mean, it seems like it would reduce your iphone to just a phone - because for other iphone utilities, you would want to use your ipad, and I guess the macbook would only be pulled out for heavy duty computing jobs, long emails, document creation, porn. I don't know, maybe the ipad is just as effective for porn. But do you really need to tote around all three? I mean, I guess if I had all three maybe I would carry them all around because they would be three of my most valuable possessions that are portable. But I don't want an iphone because the monthly usage is expensive, and I don't feel like I need an ipad and a laptop. I guess if someone gave me an ipad I'd take it, but I don't think there is any other circumstance in which I would get one. I guess if I won the lottery. If I won the lottery I would probably buy and ipad.
Whenever there's a natural disaster like Irene, it's big news how the power went out and people had to deal with no communications and no traditional form of entertainment. TV and video games are now traditional forms of entertainment. Reading a paperback or hardback book, having an in person conversation without a phone in your hand, playing an acoustic guitar that isn't wirelessly connected to a video game are quickly becoming nontraditional forms of entertainment.
I'm not really the camping type, but it sure sounds nice to go out into some remote area where there is no 3G, 4G, GPS, Onstar or wifi signal and just be there for a couple days. But without the signal, how the hell would we figure out how to get there and how to get back out? And once we got there, what would we do? Look at nature? Would it be as vivid as the documentaries of nature are on my flatscreen TV? And how would I share this experience with people if I couldn't click a picture on the FP's iphone and post it on facebook? And if someone couldn't get a hold of me, would the world stop spinning on it's axis? If I were in some remote area for a couple of days, surely some emergency would come up, Les Stroud style, and how would I be able to survive that? I think I would die of dehydration in 2 days, starvation in 4.
Do you even remember the days before cellphones? Some people in the world are not old enough to remember this time. These people must watch Seinfeld and think, that's not funny, all he would have to do is call and text her and the problem would be solved. You know, there's something to be said about that time, and respecting others' privacy, space, and down time. I mean, as far as most jobs go, if the boss calls and you don't answer and call back within half an hour, it's a big deal and you will be questioned as to why you did not pick up the phone. People are expected to have their phone on the table next to them or in their pocket, ringer on, vibrator on. What if you got in trouble for not answering the phone when your boss called? Would you say "I'm sorry, I was in the middle of some hot and heavy tantric sex that lasted for hours and I couldn't hear the phone over our screams of ecstasy?" I mean, is that appropriate, or are you supposed to have the ringer turned up even louder for such occasion?
It's funny because it's harder to just avoid people. You know, you have the buddy who is always on his iphone. You call him or text him to go for a drink, or to help you with a flat tire or whatever. He doesn't answer, doesn't respond, you don't hear from him for days. And you're pissed. You know he saw your message and didn't have the courtesy to respond. In this time of technology overload, are we now required to explain every time we ignore someone's call?
What's also funny is how one friend, Gordy, holds a long standing grudge against another friend, Sandy, for such an incident. Gordy was walking or biking down a street, and he saw Sandy across the street ahead of him. Gordy called Sandy (they both have iphones), and he watched Sandy pull out his iphone, look at the incoming call, and hit decline. Gordy never forgave Sandy, but he never told him what happened either. This is a little funny to me, because whenever the FP used to text Gordy and ask him to go to the Bluefoot for drinks after they had planned it ahead of time, Gordy would often not respond at all. At all. And Gordy was the first of our local friends to get an iphone, way back when. And we knew he always had it with him, and he was always using it. So, he couldn't possibly have the excuse that he didn't see the message. So, what would the excuse be? And why was it okay for Gordy to not respond to the FP, but get mad at Sandy only because he witnessed Sandy declining the call.
And is no one worried about getting cancer from cellphones anymore? When I used to keep my cellphone in my right pocket 8 hours a day during work, I developed spider veins on my thigh, right where my cell phone rested. I stopped keeping my phone in my pocket and put it on the shelf with easy access instead. The spider veins stopped forming since then. Of course, I can't prove that the cell phone caused the spider veins, and I can't say that spider veins would lead to cancer. But, I can tell you what I observed, and I prefer to not have my cell phone directly on my person. Maybe years down the road there will be a study about cell phone usage by type of phone, amount of usage and health problems. Hopefully, we the people who don't use our phones as much will finally be seen as smart for not having a smartphone!
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Finding My Voice
So, most of you know that I wanted to be a writer of some sort when I was younger and my life was full of endless possibilities. Now that I'm older and some of those possibilities have expired, I realize that I will never get paid for writing. Which is...okay. I have other writing projects on the back burner. They're back there though, because there's no instant gratification. With blogging, I can write this thing, hit publish, and I feel some sense of accomplishment. Why? I don't know. I guess because I tend to start things and abandon them or lose interest when they are more difficult than I imagined or I'm not getting the results I want.
Anyway, I haven't written poetry, fiction, or a play in so long that I don't have the chops for it. Writing bullshit about my life is easy. This is what I'm better at writing. Even my musical lyrics, while some are catchy, are trite.
In the condition of quasi-anonymity, it's so easy to spill my guts. My ugly stinky gross guts. You wanna hear about my noxious farts, sure, I'll describe the bouquet. In the Pork Porn Pages blog, there are some insulting descriptions of people. If they ever read that stuff, they would hate me. These blogs are hidden from a lot of people. I always tried to not let my employers know about my blog, in case I wanted to bitch about them. Which was funny with my last job. Other people, oh like one certain food writer, would talk to my employers about how cool it was I wrote a blog. My employers didn't know what she was talking about.
So, anyway. One of my poetry professors told my class that sometimes you have to kill your parents to be able to be truthful in writing. Well, my mom is dead, although she is the one parent who I wouldn't really mind exposing any of my writing to. I mean, in junior high, she read the entire contents of the infamous confiscated notebook. I mean, she read it in my room, out loud to me. Man, I wish I would have had a tape recorder or video camera. That would have been a YouTube hit, even though there was no such thing back then.
But, I gotta say, my dad wouldn't understand any of my writing. He's kinda gone. He doesn't understand what the word "garage" means when I personally write it. It's more difficult to properly communicate with someone when you hate them. I'm not saying my dad always hates me. He's got an interchangeable sliding scale hate list. But, my dad is more the focus of the other personal blog, so I won't dwell on him here. Think happy thoughts. Happy. Happy.
This blog is really meandering along, but it was meant to be about my writing voice vs my speaking voice. My writing voice is elegant and graceful compared to my speaking voice. My whole physical presence lacks confidence and oozes self criticism, doubt and loathing, except for when on stage. I love to play live music. That's kind of different though, I'm always drunk or at least have a good buzz when playing a gig.
But my speaking voice is shrill and screechy and grating. You know how a lot of people hate the sound of their own voice. I'm not the only one who hates my voice. Over the years, people have called me out about my voice.
The drag queen at the local club in college said I have a "squeeky cunt voice." She was doing a drag show, and she made me stand up and speak into the microphone so everyone could hear it.
My dad said, "you sound like birds."
And there was that guy in that club, Manray, in Boston. I met him one time, and I was hammered, obviously. I never "walked" out of a club in Boston, ever. Stumbled, was dragged or carried is more like it. Anyway, a month later, I was ordering tickets on the phone or calling the cable company or something, and the guy asked if I was "my name" that goes to Manray. I said, how did you know? He replied, it's a very unique voice. Yes, very unique.
I hate my voice.
So, I developed this different writing voice. Not just my "writing voice", but also a writing "voice". When I'm reading what I'm writing, that voice that reads the words to me in my head is...nicer, more melifluous. It sucks, because when I'm working on a song, I can hear the voice I want in my head, but I can't execute. At least with music there are effects.
Maybe I could have a vocal processor installed in my throat? Like those people who had tracheostomies? But not a robot voice, a lovely, beautiful voice that everyone will want to listen to. It will be so beautiful that it will be a joy to hear me recite grocery lists, rap sheets, curse words. I will be propositions to do voices for animated movies and cartoons. And if I recite poetry, it will always bring people to tears.
Anyway, I haven't written poetry, fiction, or a play in so long that I don't have the chops for it. Writing bullshit about my life is easy. This is what I'm better at writing. Even my musical lyrics, while some are catchy, are trite.
In the condition of quasi-anonymity, it's so easy to spill my guts. My ugly stinky gross guts. You wanna hear about my noxious farts, sure, I'll describe the bouquet. In the Pork Porn Pages blog, there are some insulting descriptions of people. If they ever read that stuff, they would hate me. These blogs are hidden from a lot of people. I always tried to not let my employers know about my blog, in case I wanted to bitch about them. Which was funny with my last job. Other people, oh like one certain food writer, would talk to my employers about how cool it was I wrote a blog. My employers didn't know what she was talking about.
So, anyway. One of my poetry professors told my class that sometimes you have to kill your parents to be able to be truthful in writing. Well, my mom is dead, although she is the one parent who I wouldn't really mind exposing any of my writing to. I mean, in junior high, she read the entire contents of the infamous confiscated notebook. I mean, she read it in my room, out loud to me. Man, I wish I would have had a tape recorder or video camera. That would have been a YouTube hit, even though there was no such thing back then.
But, I gotta say, my dad wouldn't understand any of my writing. He's kinda gone. He doesn't understand what the word "garage" means when I personally write it. It's more difficult to properly communicate with someone when you hate them. I'm not saying my dad always hates me. He's got an interchangeable sliding scale hate list. But, my dad is more the focus of the other personal blog, so I won't dwell on him here. Think happy thoughts. Happy. Happy.
This blog is really meandering along, but it was meant to be about my writing voice vs my speaking voice. My writing voice is elegant and graceful compared to my speaking voice. My whole physical presence lacks confidence and oozes self criticism, doubt and loathing, except for when on stage. I love to play live music. That's kind of different though, I'm always drunk or at least have a good buzz when playing a gig.
But my speaking voice is shrill and screechy and grating. You know how a lot of people hate the sound of their own voice. I'm not the only one who hates my voice. Over the years, people have called me out about my voice.
The drag queen at the local club in college said I have a "squeeky cunt voice." She was doing a drag show, and she made me stand up and speak into the microphone so everyone could hear it.
My dad said, "you sound like birds."
And there was that guy in that club, Manray, in Boston. I met him one time, and I was hammered, obviously. I never "walked" out of a club in Boston, ever. Stumbled, was dragged or carried is more like it. Anyway, a month later, I was ordering tickets on the phone or calling the cable company or something, and the guy asked if I was "my name" that goes to Manray. I said, how did you know? He replied, it's a very unique voice. Yes, very unique.
I hate my voice.
So, I developed this different writing voice. Not just my "writing voice", but also a writing "voice". When I'm reading what I'm writing, that voice that reads the words to me in my head is...nicer, more melifluous. It sucks, because when I'm working on a song, I can hear the voice I want in my head, but I can't execute. At least with music there are effects.
Maybe I could have a vocal processor installed in my throat? Like those people who had tracheostomies? But not a robot voice, a lovely, beautiful voice that everyone will want to listen to. It will be so beautiful that it will be a joy to hear me recite grocery lists, rap sheets, curse words. I will be propositions to do voices for animated movies and cartoons. And if I recite poetry, it will always bring people to tears.
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