Manifest Green

Rain, Rain, Rain

Today is supposed to be another rainy day.  I don’t really mind.  I love the rain as long as it’s a fairly warm rain and I don’t have to go out in it.

Which I don’t.

Crap, yes I do.  I need to buy: newspaper, drain cleaner…I can’t remember what else..

Yesterday was nice after the rain stopped.  I sat in bed for a while crocheting.  It was nice.  I finished one item and started another, which I will finish today.  And when I say “finish” I mean I am done crocheting said item, but I still need to snazz it up a bit. 

ANYWAY, I drove up to “The Big City” to cut Curtis and Angela’s hairs.  And pet June, their dog.  Which, I was in so much trouble when I got home because I smelled like another dog.  I got accusatory looks, which I couldn’t deny, and I got sniffled  for a while.  Scampi may have been concerned that I was smuggling said dog in a bag and went investigating.  She, of course, didn’t find one.  Yet.

ANYWAY, Miranda dropped by and we walked to the Mexican restaurant where we ended up being the only people on the patio.  For real.  It was around 60° out, the sun had not yet set, yet no one else was outside.  I guess it was so odd that the manager came out to check on us.  We totally should have been wearing big sunglasses and floppy hats.  People would have thought we were movie stars.  Really.  Oh, you think that just because it’s the suburb of Atlanta that there are no really movie stars just out and about eating on water covered patios?  It happens all the time around here.  Really.  Fried Green Tomatoes, that other movie, and the other one…don’t you feel silly now?  So there we were, sitting out on the patio by ourselves, sipping the strongest margaritas known to humankind and eating nachos.  Yum.

Good times.

So, I was back home by 8.  I set out to make a few calls that I had planned on making.  Then I pretty much just goofed off after that.  Until about 9:30 or so.  Then the post margarita headache set in.  Not good.  I jumped for the aspirin (nighttime flavored) and was feeling much better by the time Brett got home from his hockey game (which he won, of course). 

Now to go and be productive!

TMI Thursday: For Serious, I Am Too Busy Gagging To Even Come Up With A Decent Title For This One

As that Broad From The Corner Bar (or just the corner), Lilu, likes to say:

***Alright, folks, you know the rules. Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!***

Ok, kids, I actually had issues trying to put this one together.  Just so you know, I got the story in my email last Friday, but I didn’t open it until Saturday.  Saturday morning.  Early Saturday morning.  I gagged.  I had to reread it to make sure I had read it correctly.  I did.  I then got the pictures Sunday.  Oh, lordy.  This comes from sweet Miz Danie who is a craver of Ranch Dressing (which apparently is nonexistent in England because I just mailed her enough to last for 40 years) and Muffins.  Well, my perfect little posies, ENJOY!

“Once upon a time there was a girl… a sassy girl with a bright and winning personality and lots of hobbies and friends… this story is not one that highlights her personality or hobbies and most certainly will not inspire any of you to become her friend. 

This girl was an American named Danie who had been transplanted in England and was therefore a novelty amongst her nearest and dearest… she had no outward talent that was obvious to the naked eye (unless, of course you consider belligerent shouting and acoustically perfect belching a talent). 

It was because of this lack of talent that people were surprised to find it wasn’t long before she became a member of a local band. The band was made up of a motley crew of loose cannons: Claire (who is known for getting horrifically drunk, becoming completely out of control and abusing/spitting on people), Mark (who can typically be found playing footie, drinking and wearing some sort of woodland creature costume), Jerry (an amazingly talented man who was pretty much ALWAYS drunk), Vic (tall, beauteous but also an abusive drunk) and Chris (now estranged husband of the girl in question, no people skills and less self-control).

Together, this group of six made up the band known as Concertina Turner and the Butchers. They were a band that played what could only be described as ‘frightening children’s folk music’ and, due to the locations of many of the band members, only played about once every six months. 

On one Saturday the band members were preparing for their biggest gig to date… there was a serious hustle and bustle going on at Danie’s house, made all the more fun after the previous night’s antics of being kicked out of three pubs many would have previously considered it impossible to get kicked out of. Danie’s best friend had come to visit and they had started the celebrating of another gig early with a bottle of actual blue magic… nobody knows what it was, all we know is that is is neon blue and tastes like marzipan. The bottle of wonder was shared amongst the group and then at LEAST five litres of cider were cracked open before hitting the road to get the gig going.

We arrived at the venue and Danie immediately downed two Snakebites (a mixture of cider and lager, deadly. COMPLETELY deadly) and danced… half of another Snakebite down it was time for her to play… and oh did they play! The crowd roared, everyone danced and Danie fell over no less than seventy-six times. Overall, the gig was a success and post-music Danie sat to consume another three-and-a-half pints of Snakebite. 

Suitably inebriated, Danie and her friend, Janey, shouted offensive comments at the next act and pranced downstairs to participate in Karaoke. It was after just one song that the two of them realized that it was futile to attempt to dance anymore as they were so, SO drunk that even sitting up was just a little too much. It is clear that the best course of action to take when one feels like this is to lie down… but they couldn’t just lie, oh no… they had to writhe. Bon Jovi’s ‘Always’ was still on and it was essential for them to gyrate their bodies all over the floor as much as possible… after the song had finished Danie noted that there was something uncomfortable underneath her… obviously, it came out much more civilized than that though. It was heard more as, ‘Graaaaaaah! Jaaaaney! There’s somefink underneaf me. What the fuuuuuuck?!’ It was only after they got up that they realized they had been rolling around on what must have been the remnants of three pint glasses, broken to shards all over the floor.

All of this occurred under the watchful eye of a beautiful elderly man. This man was a sight to behold… under five foot tall, two different shoes, two black eyes and what appeared to be the wounds of someone who had been glassed in the face. He proceeded to try to chat Danie and Janey up before Danie clutched onto her husband’s arm, drank two shots of rum and ran home as fast as her drunken legs would take her, barely dragging Janey and Chris behind her.

Upon arriving home they found they had a straggler, their friend Steve. 

The four of them sat and drank shots… a favourite thing for Chris to do since the recent acquisition of a drinks cupboard. They performed rounds of shots on a rotating basis for the following two hours… the rotation went from 99 Bananas, Irish Cream, Vodka, Gin, Rum and Lactulose (a stool softener)… the final drink of the night, as a stroke of genius on Chris’s behalf was to be a new cough syrup that had been procured only the previous day… a cough syrup that actually made Danie want to die… a cough syrup that Danie defined as tasting like actual death… the flavour of death? Aniseed. Danie, in her charmingly drunk state resisted wildly until it was agreed that she could take a shot of something else in its place… they glanced in the fridge at all condiments, sauces and  liquids bore no fruit… they briefly contemplated vegetable oil before settling on something that to this day, Danie does not find THAT upsetting.

Four fresh shot glasses were laid out, three filled with the cough syrup of horror… the final glass, Danie’s was given to Steve. Steve had been preparing to fill this glass for the previous five minutes… coughing, hocking and drawing up the largest, most juicy loogie he could possibly muster. Danie beamed with glee as she topped the glass up with cola and clinked glasses with the rest of the partiers, downing the chunky mixture of cola and phlegm in one smooth swallow. 

After these shots a further two were drunk (irish cream and 99 bananas, respectively) and Danie headed for bed. The INSTANT she laid down her world came bumbling on top of her in the shape of a giant, drunken blanket. The bed immediately turned into a merry-go-round and Danie knew at that moment that she was going to die. She grabbed the bin and sat up on her bed with the bin on her lap, violently heaving until there seemed to be nothing left inside of her.

Satisfied that she had expelled all drunken demons from her body Danie placed the bin at the side of the bed and rested happily… she fell into that very familiar drunken sleep that offers for the best nights of slumber one could hope for.

This blissful slumber was disturbed by the shocking voice of her guts telling her that it was time to sick up again… this time though, there was no time... no time for forward planning or bin-grabbing… Danie just tilted her body over the side of the bed aimed in the general direction of the bin and hoped for the best. It was not until morning, when Danie awoke with two black eyes from the amount of vomiting she had participated in that she had vomited not only on her clothes but also her hairbrush, makeup into the electrical mechanism of the hairdryer.

Needless to say, Danie’s hair’s not been dry since.”

GAG.

In other news...

...adding to the list of young dying celebrities...

Corey Haim is dead

Well, I guess this was bound to happen.  Corey Feldman can now have a reality show about his grieving. 

Two Weeks

Two weeks from today the movers will be here to load up all of our belonging and move them into our new house.  Two, long, long, longer, longest weeks.  Which, really, is ok.  I mean, we just started packing yesterday.  But we were on a roll!  In the matter of about two hours we managed to get Trey’s room (the guest room) packed, the hall bathroom packed and the linen closet packed!  Awesome!  Today I think, in addition to working on projects for Black Fawn Art, I will pack up the books, the movies and start on the art room.  Which actually shouldn’t take long to pack at all!  Oh, the excitement!

I also must start a lot of laundry.  I have been a laundry slacker lately.  Sorry.  That’s just how it’s been.

AND I have been a peruser of the internetz.  I found two new sites that I absolutely adore!  If you look over to the right sidebar (that one over there—>) you will see them: David's Diatribe From A Labyrinthine Mind and grasping for objectivity in my subjective life.  Both are great sites and I visit often and comment sometimes.

Did I mention two weeks?

Anyway, all of you got to deal with the whining three months ago when this packing things was going on to move into this apartment, so I will do my best not to put you through it again.  I might take pictures this time!  How would you like that?  Would pictures be good?  Ok, I will!  Kiss, kiss!

The first week is always the hardest, right?

So, as many of you know:  I quit my job.  My last day was two Fridays ago on February 26th.  I had turned in my two week notice after years of unhappiness and frustration.  It was a difficult decision to make and I soon had strange feelings about the whole situation.  What do I mean? 

Well, I worked at that salon for five years.  FIVE YEARS.  Seriously, that’s like a lifetime to a stylist.  Cosmetologists provide most salons with a rotating door of employees.  In fact, Tashia and I were the longest employed in that same salon (we are talking actual building as opposed to salon ownership…which you’d be surprised:  when filling out anything that requires an employment background I must list the same job twice-same address, different owners, which when you think about it just isn’t right.  Think of it this way:  you hold the same job, for the same business, in the same building for 5 years.  The former owner owned that business under the LLC “Mr. X Business, Inc” for 3 years.  The business is then sold to a new owner under the LLC “Floofy Biz, LLC”.  You go to apply for a new job.  You must list your time for Mr. X as 3 years and your time for Floofy as 2, yet the same address and position.  If you have a prospective employer that isn’t very observant looking at your application or resume then they get to wondering why you can’t hold a job.  This is especially true when making your resume and you don’t put the actual physical address or reason for change on it).  As for under the current owner, only four of us were the “originals”.  Out of seven.  And I can’t even tell you how many have come and gone in the past two years since the current owners bought the salon. 

So anyway, the decision.  I had a definite plan in my head and I started preparing.  A huge issue with that is I am one of those people that gets big ideas, jump right in without worry and then find that it may not go exactly as planned.  No, no, I am not saying that happened.  I am just letting you know what type of person I am.  Not all the time, mind you, just a lot of the time.  I bided my time at work, finishing up my two week schedule and being very careful to not say, “See you in a few weeks!” as clients left. 

Then the last day came.

I went in super early like I always did.  I spent all day looking forward to the time when I was officially no longer an employee.  When the time came I filled out my own Voluntary Termination paper and I took myself out of the computer.  Well, actually I did those things because I knew that they wouldn’t be done correctly or at all otherwise.  But afterwards, with my pink rolly equipment suitcase packed to busting, I doled out the hugs, said my goodbyes and walked out of the front door a free woman.

I had gotten in my car and sent out the “woo hoo i am outta there” texts messages.  I drove out and onto the freeway.  I sat in traffic through Atlanta.  I was feeling good.  Nothing could bring me down.

Nothing could bring me down.

Until I got out of the city limits.  Then I got a bad, bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.  And a feeling washed over me that I had felt before, but never for this situation.  The only way I can describe the feeling is that of buyer remorse.  You trade in your car for a new car and two days later, after the reality that you are going to start making car payments again hits, you thin how you could have just fixed your old car up and saved money.  Or when your bank account gets really, really, really low but you want to go out for drinks with your friends really, really, really badly so you do but the next day while making coffee you see your power bill, that is already three days late, hanging on your refrigerator door.  Yeah, that’s pretty close to how I felt.  It was awful.  What now?  Can I do this this working for myself thing?  Should I turn around and go back to the salon and beg for my job back?  Was the job really as bad as I made it out to be?  What if I never find another job ever, ever, ever again? 

Brett had to calm me down.

So anyway, I got home and waited for the feeling to subside.

The next day was Saturday.  My first official day as either unemployed or self employed, depending on how you look at it.  Anyone who has ever a) visited a salon or b) worked in a salon knows that Saturdays are very busy days.  This was the first Saturday in a long, long time that I was not working.  I had a feeling that I was doing something wrong, something terribly naughty.  Like those days when you call out for a mental health day, but your mental health gets worse as the day goes on because you feel guilty for not being at work.  I felt guilty.  I felt as though I were doing something terrible.  I felt as though I had called out of work without good reason. 

Once again Brett had to calm me down.

I spent the weekend not doing much of anything.  I worked on a blanket for a friend of mine.  I lounged around, planning my week and all of the projects I was going to accomplish, with a definite timeline.  I went to Brett’s hockey game, the first I had been to in probably about a year.  I had a really nice weekend.  And so Monday came.

Starting Monday I awoke early (5:30 in the morning) and began drinking coffee, playing on the internet and working on projects.  I did that Monday and all of the rest of the week.  I tried new things and failed at some, completed things I set out to complete and generally worked a lot.  In fact, I worked more at home than I ever worked while employed at the salon.  It is pretty much a guarantee at this point that even if everything I worked on sells, it will still be less money acquired than hourly wage.  Like, way less.

So, back to what was bliss and what was hell:

Bliss-it has been lovely to work from home doing something that I really, really enjoy.  Not that I didn’t enjoy doing hair.  I did, but it just isn’t my passion.  It’s just something I happen to be really good at and I was always afraid to try something new.  Making my own schedule and completing things in my own time is awesome.  Not having to change out of pajamas if I don’t choose to is nice.  I can crochet and knit anywhere: bed, couch, art room, outside, etc.  If I feel the need to lounge in the tub and gather my thoughts I can do that.  I have more time with my furbabies (and I think they are secretly happy to have me around all of the time).  I have found how crappy daytime TV is and I have almost gone through  my entire Watch Instantly list on Netflix (time to find more or move to Hulu).  I have found myself becoming more creative.  I have way better ideas and found easier ways to work them out.  I have lost some weight.

Hell-not knowing what is going to happen in the future.  I hate not having a schedule to base my life by (which will be remedied once I set one up).  Not making money on a daily basis is difficult.  I like my cash because I like books and art supplies and Targeting.  The feeling of guilt, even though I know I shouldn’t because they already had my position filled the day after my last day.

That’s pretty much all I can think of at the moment.  I am sure that more for each category will reveal itself in the future. 

I do need to remember that I have a valuable skill.  Well, many, but if push comes to shove I am really going when it comes to hair (seriously, I know, I know…I am not trying to be cocky.  I know as well as anyone that no matter how good I am at something there is always going to be someone out there that is better…it’s actually something that is always in my mind, no matter what I set out to accomplish.  I don’t let it hold me back, I just use it to work harder at what I do) and I will be able to get a job in a salon if that time comes.

For now, though, I will stick with my plan of being the Founder, Owner and CEO of my own company and hope for the best.  And as soon as I make my first sale I will take a dollar and frame it for good luck.

Wish me luck!

I might be dragging today

It is almost two in the afternoon and I just now got finished posting the new items for sale.

Go check them out!

Black Fawn Art

Black Fawn Art on Etsy

No one likes Gladys

This conversation actually happened.  Just replace “Minerva” with “Danie” and “Constance” with Stephanie.  I would also like to  point out that Minerva never returned for the movie.  It’s all good though.  Constance just told Gladys everything Minerva said.  And for some reason, Minerva has typing issues....

Fo realz.

 

Minerva
GAH! stupid busy minerva! i suck! i shouldn't be allowed to have friends when i'm so busy! how ARE you?! i miss you!

Constance
No you don't, you totally hate me

Minerva
well, yeah, i didn't want to say anything... but now the cat's out of the bag, there we are. where do we go from here?

Constance
I guess we can just sit awkwardly silent, looking out the window, and finish our pbj's in tiny nibbles while listening to the couple next door argue over who tracked mud all over the carpet...

Minerva
Mud, i was sure i heard it was dog poo?

Constance
no, it was mud...the landscapers were just out...they got all of the dog poo...did you here about what Myrtle's husband bought her, speaking of dog poo? A dog poo key hider....such an insensitive man....he knows how she feels after Juju passed last year...do you need another sandwich?

Minerva
Oh yes please! Another sandwich would be divine! Honestly, i couldn't believe it when i heart juju had passed, they never really appreciated her as much as they should have though. Poor soul. Oh! Also, did you hear, herbert broke his collarbone! He says he slipped on the snow but i reckon he had a run in with a lady of the night! June moved out of the bedroom last week and why else would she have unless she found out her husband was sleeping around? Do you have any lemonade?

Constance
Well, I have limeade, if that's ok? I did here that June moved out of the bedroom, but I thought it was because Herbert has excessive flatulence ever since his doctor put him on an all broccoli and prune diet...that's what that gossip Gladys told me the other day at the beauty parlor, which by the way, did you see the ghastly color Mary Beth had her hair done? She looks like a floozy! Oh, I am out of limeade, but here, let me mix up some tea...

Minerva
Oh Yay! Tea sounds like heaven! That gladys! She drives me crazy. I heard her son went and moved in with another man. People say it's innocent but have you SEEN how tight his trousers are and how well he decorates. It would break his dad's heart to see that, honestly. Walt was a good man. Although, i heard he and gladys weren't all too happy before he died. I think he may have written her out of the will!

Minerva
Oh and don't even get me started on mary beth! She has been with every man under this god-given sun. She's not right in the head, that one.

Constance
Walt was a good man! He left her the house, but due to her habits of buying Hummels he left all of his money to The Church of the Subgenius. I still remember the suit Gladys had him buried in...who buries their husband in a banana yellow tux? And ll she did was gossip about his mother the whole funeral. It's ok, though, I think her son moved in... See more with that man just to upset her. I could swear I saw him out with Susie the other night. At the grocery store, that is. I should call Susie's mother for a tea. Oh, the tea! Cream, dear?

Minerva
now, i thought the banana yellow tux was charming! i honestly couldn't BELIEVE what she was saying about his mum! also, did you SEE how she was acting around tom? she was practically flinging herself all over him! and that dress... i reckon she had picked the sequins off just over her nipples to try to draw him in. i've just about had it with her ... See morestephanie, i'm not gonna lie. she needs to get her act together, it's a disgrace! and no, her son totally didn't. i don't want to be a gossip, but he's trying to get suzie to donate an egg for artificial insemination... honestly, i am SURE Enriquo is his gay lover. and yes, cream and three sugars please. want a chocolate? i bought these special...

Constance
Oh, no chocolates for me, thank you. Betty presented me with a dress to wear to her daughter's Bat Mizvah and the waist is a tad too tiny, so I am living on these tiny pbj's for the next week. It's sugar free jelly, you know! And completely fat free, sugar free, carbohydrate free peanut butter. I found it at the little grocery on James Avenue... See more. Such wonderful products, but the prices are a bit high. Worth it, though. And Gladys DID take the sequins off! She was planning on putting big red silk flowers in place of them, but she didn't have time. She was thinking that they would match that horrible, in my opinion, death tux, but she got what she wanted anyway. I don't want to be a gossip, either, but I don't think Susie's eggs are all that great. Did you see the last eight children she produced!?!? I mean, they make Mary Ann Bevan look positively stunning! If Enriquo is his lover then they should adopt instead. I mean, it's all the rage right now, to adopt from third world countries. They could get a child from Sibera. those poor children freeze to death, I heard. Oh, shoot, is that the phone? Excuse me while I get that. Do you need anything from the kitchen while I am in there? More tea?

Minerva
oh sweety, just take the dress out a little, i know someone in town that can do that for you at a really cheap rate! her name's prudence and she's a real pill... she'll sort out your dress and tell you all about how to cure a yeast infection... from what i've heard, she's had her fair share of experience with them, so i guess she knows what works ... See moreand what doesn't... oh wow, betty's daughter's ALREADY having her bat mitvah? it seems like she was born just yesterday... do you REMEMBER the day betty went into labour? down at the cornershop down there on stenson road, just talking away to florence and then her waters broke all over the produce aisle... poor old jeff didn't know what to do! just stopped stocking the carrots and mopped it up. didn't mitzy weigh about fourteen pounds when she was born? she sure was a little cutie! urgh... gladys just gets my goat. she just prances around town bold as brass saying whatever flippant comment she wants with reckless regard to whoever might hear. you know she was talking to my aunty once down at benji's steak house about mona's hysterectomy and now there's not a soul that was there that doesn't know about it! it's disgraceful! mmm, i had guessed about susie's eggs... honestly, she should have had those tubes tied when the first one came out with a tail... but that's just me. they do make a charming addition to the christmas play as the farm animals. maybe i'll have enriquo and barnaby around for some dinner... you keen to come along? i'll bake a quiche. and yes, please, i'd just LOVE a banana and a glass of ice water! i'm just gonna nip to the shop for a cola, can i get you anything?

Constance
Oh, no no...I'm fine...say hello to Walter for me while you're down there! Can you see if he has gotten any frozen chips in yet? I was planning on making a potato casserole to take to Mrs. Perl, since she just got out of the hospital last week, but I don't feel like peeling any sort of potato for it. You know if you buy them frozen and boil them... See more it's just like the real thing! I can't believe you would want a banana after what happened to poor Janice last week, what with that spider crawling out of the bunch and biting her. The poor thing had to have several shot, it was like she had rabies! I will set up the reel to reel and we can watch The Graduate when you return.

TMI Thursday: When Friends Share EVERYTHING!

As That Special Little Twinkle In Our Eye, Lilu says:

***Alright, folks, you know the rules. Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!***

 

Ok, because, once again, I have not done a TMI Thursday in a while I decided to go outside of the "Lilu Group" and have someone else write a TMI!  Exciting, no?

 

So I present you with Danish Muffin (I iz suddenly hongries for pastries!), a sweety that is overseas playing Soldier.  So when you read this you can silently thank him for being over there drinking Coke LIGHT while you pour more Jack into your DIET Coke.

 Here is his story:

So in the truest form of too much information, I would like to express a short coming of age tale that hopefully will make you laugh and in the end, reflect back to your own life for inspiration and good times, as well as overcoming small hurdles that make you a better person. This story is one that I can honestly say, was the truest form of me expressing my duties and loyalty to upholding "Man Law" in it's purest form. You may find this selfless act of manism under chapter 3 section 2.5a in the Man-Law handbook, this section is formidably known as the "bros before hos" act.
Years ago, I moved in with my mother in Cheyenne, Wyoming from Southern California, having a strict father, I was forced to be that kid in school with the over sized backpack, parted hair, tear drop bifocal glasses, shorts above the knee, no car, no real girlfriend, high tops and was only allowed to skateboard if I was wearing my knee and elbow pads and helmet. Truth be told, I know it's hard for most people to fathom, but I was the dorky kid in high school. So I moved to Wyoming where most people have never heard of the sun, let alone someone that is from a state full of it. I'm not sure if it was my tan or what, but I untucked the shirt, spiked my hair and all the sudden, I had girls swooning. So I started dating one of them and we were hot and heavy for about 8 months.
During this time, I started meeting some cool people, playing guitar in bands, working at subway. I even got one of my best friends, Kevin, to start working there with me. Often times, Kevin and I would hang out in the back of subway skateboarding or just generally doing nothing that we were supposed to be doing. When all of the sudden, the manager installed a closed circuit security camera system. so we thought it would be funny to play to the camera as often as possible. We tried re-enacting the civil war, fighting with loafs of bread and olives (what can I say, it's a small town and there are 5 subways, we weren't always the busiest) So one day Kevin and I were on the closing shift at Subway and my girlfriend of 8 months walks into the store during a slow time where no one was coming in and says to me the lines EVERY guy hates hearing, "We need to talk!"
So my heart rate starts to beat faster, my palms get sweaty, I start going over in my mind how I'm going to explain whatever I did wrong. Honestly, I was thinking about all the bad shit that might have happened at the time and how I was going to deny everything (as told in chapter 8 in the "Man-Law" handbook for emergency situations). So I tell Kevin that I am going to go talk to my girlfriend and if he can watch the front, he say that's fine and she stops and says, "no, I need to talk to Kevin too, he should hear this as well." So now I'm feeling fairly confused. So I went with it thinking, oh man, maybe she wants to tell us something totally cool! And then the girlfriend spoke these fateful words, "I have Chlamydia!"
Now, a lot goes through a man's mind when a girl tells him this, like, how did you get it? does this mean we're breaking up? what are some steps you're going to take to fix this? why are you telling me in front of Kevin?
Well, the answers to that were talked about in the conversation that I had with her later that night. The story goes like this, "blah blah blah, I'm fucking Kevin and all the guys in your band, blah blah blah, I'm a dirty tramp!" So she leaves and I am stuck still working with my bro all night and we talk about how it happened and so on and so forth. I was pretty pissed at him, but he only did one offense, she did like 80. So from there I told Kevin, hey man, we need to go get tested, he agreed and we picked a time to go down to the free health clinic to get tested.
Getting rodded is one of the most excruciatingly painful ordeals a man can go through in his life. Having a metal rod with a Q-tip end shoved up your pee-hole the length or you penis is not my idea of a great time. I know anyone out there reading this right now that has had it can sympathize. I was rodded and released, then it was Kevin's turn, he comes out 30 minutes later looking like he's in excruciating pain. I asked him what happened and he said that after he was rodded, the nurse was trying to put the Q-tip in the bag and accidentally dropped it on the floor, so she had to do it twice. I have never laughed so hard in my life and thus started believing and understanding the true meaning of Karma and the "what goes around, comes around" theory.
I broke up with that girl immediately after that night and forgave Kevin because I would rather have my friend around than a cheating hoochie. We never spoke of it again, our results showed up to a friend's mom's house a few weeks later, we were both given a bill of clean health which we celebrated by eating Subway sandwiches.
Years later, Kevin passed away from an overdose, I hadn't been in town for about 5 years and had been pretty distant from everyone in Wyoming, So I went back for his funeral and at the reception, people were all telling stories about how amazing Kevin was and how awesome he has been. I proceeded to tell this story that you just heard. I was a bit tipsy and forgot that his parents were there as well as his grandparents and all his friends, however, afterwards, his mother came up to me and said, Dane, feel free to never tell that story again. He was a good boy and is gone now, no one needs to hear about made up stories just because you and him stopped talking.
So here I am telling you a few lessons learned,
1. Don't ever try to tell stories involving your penis at your good friends funeral reception
2. Always follow Man-Law, it was put into effect for a reason
3. Bros before Hos
4. understand that at times, people make mistakes, nobody is perfect, forgiving is one of the greatest things a person can do, accept the things you cannot change.

Wordless Wednesday

At Night It’s A Different Story

I think that a 24 hour art and craft store is needed.  Just for people like me.  You know, those that get their best ideas in the middle of the night and have no way to carry out those ideas and refuse to write them down because they tell themselves that they will remember them the next day and then the next day comes and they can’t remember the ideas at all and then they wish that there was a 24 hour art and craft supply store nearby so that maybe, maybe they could have gotten up and bought the stuff that they needed and created the project they had in mind and then they wouldn’t be punishing themselves for not remembering what it was in the first place and even if they did they feel too lazy to even do anything about it the next day , but man don’t they wish they could remember because what they can remember is that last night “it”, whatever “it” was, was an supa-fly awethome idea and was probably the idea that could have made them a million and one dollars, but now it is just like a sneeze:  it builds up and then it’s gone and  you forget about it later….

Oh, and I posted a tutorial on how to make a crochet flower over on Black Fawn Art, so go check it out and be amazed at how crappy the video is, but how easy the flower is!

 

A memory jogged, but did not lose weight…

Have any of you ever had a job that was so inconsequent in your life that you rarely think about it, yet when you do you don’t remember it fondly and you don’t remember it badly?

This happened to me today.  And every now and then I think about it.  It’s rare.  So rare, in fact, that until today Brett didn’t know I had ever held this job.

This is a story about that job.

Years ago, right after I moved away from my mom, I was staying with a friend and her parents.  I needed a job.  But I had just graduated cosmetology school, I hadn’t yet received my license.  I couldn’t work in a salon yet and, unfortunately, the closest business to where I was staying was a salon.  Go figure.  Did I mention I didn’t have a car?  No?  Well, I didn’t.  I had told my mom to sell me car.  I iz smart.

Also, for future reference we will call the friend “Mary” and her mom “CB” (you can make up your own words for those initials if you like).

So there I am without a car, without a job and without a real home.  An agreement had been made with CB that i would get a job any way I could to pay to live with them and get a car and then eventually move out.  Agreed.  And she would drive me to said job (or Mary would) until I got a car.  Agreed.  So, I went and applied all over town.  And after a week i hadn’t gotten any responses.  Soooooo, I applied for a job that most teenagers are not even considering doing.

Can you guess what that job was?

So yeah, I was a housekeeper.  At a motel.  Not a posh HOTEL, but at a motel.  I won’t tell you which one.  Just know that it was one of the major ones that you may have stayed in.

So yeah.  Basically the way it worked was I would get there at about seven in the morning.  I was given a list of rooms to clean.  I had 20 minutes to clean each room.  I must start with the rooms that the occupants had already checked out.  The pattern was:  strip the bed(s), throw sheets in corner, collect towels, throw towels in corner, throw all used soap away (fucking gross…I picked it up with toilet paper…who wants to touch soap growing hair?), spray down all bathroom surfaces, empty trash cans, replace with new trash can liners, dust all bedroom surfaces, remake bed with fresh sheets, wipe down bathroom surfaces, restock bathroom with fresh plastic cups-coffee cups-soap-towels, put sheets and towels in trolley thingy, vacuum, you’re done!  When a room is being cleaned the door must stay open.  You must write your time down for each room.  Even if the occupant has checked out be sure to knock first.  If occupant is staying another night: make bed without changing sheets (sheets are changed at that point every other day), hang towels neatly (again, only changed every other day), dust around their stuff.  DO NOT touch their stuff.  If clothes are on the bed then the bed is to remain unmade.  Vacuum around their belongs.  Don’t steal.

I know, I know.  That last one seems obvious, right?  Well, here’s the thing.  People who stay in those places are dumb.  Like, super dumb.  They have a habit of hiding their drugs.  And the thing is…well, a housekeeper could steal those drugs and they can’t even complain!   I don’t do drugs.  And I’m not saying that I ever stole them.  But here’s the thing:  there are housekeepers out there that do.  And they know all of your hiding places!  You think putting your weed in one of those coffee cups and replacing the little paper lid on top of it will keep it safe?  Nope.  They hafta check those cups anyway just in case you used them and put the stupid paper lids back on them.  And don’t try hiding your pills in those nifty little three sided advertisement tents beside the television.  Housekeepers hafta lift those up to dust.  And the drawer with the Bible?  Yeah, guess what?  Housekeepers need to look in the drawer to make sure the Bible is still there.  If not then they need to replace it.  Your best bet, in all honesty, is to go ahead and leave your drugs out in plain view and leave a crisp $50 under your pillow as a tip for the housekeeper.  The cash might give her a reason to not call the cops on your dumb ass.

Anyhoo, besides the drugs, lemme give you a few extra tips, just to make your housekeeper’s life a bit easier (remember, s/he is only making minimum wage…really):  if you are staying for a while, just make sure your stuff is off the floor and beds;  don’t leave trash all over the floor…that’s what the trash cans are for;  after your last show just go ahead and throw the soap away or take it with you…it will not be used by the next person and no one wants to touch your gross, hairy soap;  if you have time then go ahead and strip your bed(s)…it’s just taking off the sheets and pillowcases and throwing them in the corner by the door, place the pillows and bedspread in a chair;  put all of your towels on the sheet pile;  leave a little tip, a little something that shows you appreciate the hard work that your housekeeper does…it is usually customary to leave the tip under a pillow on the bed.

A few more things:  because not all housekeepers are trustworthy, never, ever leave any valuables out.  It is your own fault if they disappear.  This is why a housekeeper isn’t allowed to touch anything, but has to clean around it.  If you leave a couple of outfits on the bed and the housekeeper moves these to make the bed, you might find that a shirt you really like is missing.  And you may have only *thought* you brought that shirt, but now you believe the shirt has been stolen.  And motels take these accusations very seriously.  You could get someone fired, only to return home a week later and find the shirt hanging in your closet.  Good going, asshole, you put someone with 5 mouths to feed outta work!

Anyhoo, so the lesson here is:  clean up after yourself, don’t do drugs and be nice to your housekeeper.

PS-if I ever hold a motel housekeeping job again, make sure you slide a Benjamin under the pillow!

PS-OMG!  I totally forgot to finish the story of Mary and CB!  Pretty much i held this job for about a month or so.  I wasn’t making much, I think minimum wage was like $4.25 back then so I was making, what?  Like $150 a week, gross pay.  And that’s if I worked 35 hours.  Holy smoke!  That’s sad!  Anyway, because I wasn’t making much and CB got tired of having to leave her soap operas to take me to work she had me quit.  I can’t remember what job I had after that one.  I think the beauty supply place.  Well, needless to say I didn’t live at the house with Mary and CB much longer after that.  After all was said and done I am glad I quit the job, otherwise there is no telling how long I would have had to live there!

Did I leave anything out?  gahhhhhh…

Jenna Bush and I are totally BFF’s now!

If you scroll down a bit to my February 24th post you will see a post titled “Why is Jenna Bush on The Today Show?”…ok, fine, lazy, here it is.  Anyway, except for the title of that post Jenna Bush is not mentioned anywhere else.  Fo’ realz.  Go ahead.  Read though.  I’ll wait.

Ok, you believe me now?  Well, get this.  I can only assume that Jenna Bush, or someone who wants to be her….prolly the latter seeing as I know that all the “.info” url’s have been on sale for a while now, started her own website (dubya dubya dubya dot jenna bush dot info) and guess what!?!?!?!?  I was listed, because of that post, as one of her featured bloggers!  I can only assume that she saw her name on my post, got to reading and liked what she read so much she decided that I am awesome enough to be featured!

Whaddaya mean you don’t believe me?  Ok, here is proof:

See!

Wow!  Think of all of the cool things we are gonna do now!  We can do each others hair.  We can go eat.  Maybe have a slumber party!  It is gonna be awesome!

Thanks, Jenna Bush!

Thursday! But not TMI!

Ok, so I got some photos from Curtis and here they are!

So, make sure you go to Curtis Baker Photography and check him out!  (if you click his name above the pictures it takes you to his blog)

And check out Miranda's page.

I totally wrote a better post over at Black Fawn Art.

Like how link-y this post is?

Why is Jenna Bush on The Today Show?

Brett and I went to meet the inspector at the future home yesterday.  I have a feeling that the current owners are trying to hide something.  When we were at the house last time the water was on and working.  This time a padlock had been put on it and it was totally off.  So the inspector couldn’t inspect it.  And the agent for the seller said that he knew nothing about it.  I wonder what they are hiding?  I mean, we can’t really move forward until we know all of the details.

The photo shoot was last week and I am awaiting word from Curtis on whether or not he minds me stealing a picture or two to show off of Miranda.  The pictures came out super cute!

I have been working on some crafts that I am pretty excited about. 

And that is my life in a few sentences.

OH!  EXCITEMENT!!!!  The day after tomorrow is my last day at the salon!  I am so very happy about that.  I will still cut hair, just not in a salon.  And only for those that I like.  Snobby, I know, but still…I am very happy about being able to spend more time on arts and crafts.  That makes me super, super excited. 

Anyway, onward to work on said crafts!

Hello my old friends…

…have you been feeling neglected?  Unloved?  Ignored?  I’m sorry, baby.  I don’t mean to be that way.  No, no!  There is no other blog, I promise!  Why would I lie to you?  WHAT!?!?  Why have you been going through my stuff?  YES, YES!  Fine!  There is another blog, but I love you more!  It’s ok, baby, I will never leave you.  That blog doesn’t mean anything to me.  C’mere…give me a hug, baby.  Mmmmm, yeah…  say you love me…that’ right, baby, that’s right.

So, anyway, even though we just moved into this apartment, what?  Two months ago?  We are house hunting!  And I think we have found a house!  I mean, we have found a house, but we put an offer in yesterday and we are waiting on pins and needles to find out if our offer is accepted.  Please, please, please!  I want, I want, I want!

Fingers crossed!

I have been working on learning some new techniques with yarn and whatnot.  Soooo, that’s been exciting, yeah?

And I put in my two week notice at work.  I said I put in my two week notice at work!  Yes, I did.  As in I am quitting my job.  Because I cannot take it anymore.  I love them, I really do.  But the dynamics of the salon changed, and that was before I demoted myself.  I think it was just time.  I mean, it’s like everything feels as though it is falling right into place, but I can’t pinpoint why or exactly what those things are, you know what I mean?

So, something super exciting that is happening today is a photo shoot!  Yay!  Curtis will be taking photos of Miranda and I cannot wait!  Curtis will be here in about 5 hours to start driving to Gypsy Hill.  The three of us have been brainstorming or the shoot and I think there are a lot of awesome ideas!  I can’t wait to see them executed and then the finished product.

So, in closing, baby, I promise I won’t leave you.  But you know I hafta have my blog on the side.  Let’s go cuddle.

Ya'll is gonna laugh

Ok, you ready for this?  Yeah, yeah, laugh at me if you want....I don't care.

Here, yo!