tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4742443034830954392024-03-13T16:18:14.302-05:00Mere'sI'm just sayin'Merehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03189710938406338151noreply@blogger.comBlogger171125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-474244303483095439.post-16650946337851477622013-06-10T01:44:00.004-05:002013-06-10T01:56:54.698-05:00Touched by a ... BearI was recently reminded of one of the most amazing moments of my life.<br />
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People want me to blog more and oddly - hilarious shit doesn't happen to me weekly so at times I must tell of a time past.<br />
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I was living in Phoenix at the time and my mother and I were traveling via aeroplane back to Chicago. I call my mother "ma" cause I am from Chicago and I have always called her a quick form of mom. Because of my accent, mom sounds like mam and I am lazy and leave off the last m and it becomes "ma". Real hard on that a in "ma". I remember hollering to her once "MA" and she flipped her lid, demanding I call her mother or mommy or mom. "alright ma" I said. Not everyone from Chicago does this. I do. Sue me. I can't help the way I talk.<br />
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She is my 'ma' - that is the end of it. (fun side story - unrelated)<br />
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So we were circling Chicago. I wanted to know what was going on so I tuned into the channel where you can listen to the pilot talk to ATC. The weather was shit in Chicago. ATC told the pilot that we would have to land in Minneapolis (MSP - for those in the code know). I announced to everyone around us that we were going to MSP. Five minutes later the pilot announced that we were landing in MSP. "How did you know that?" someone asked. I listen to channel 9 when I must know what is up.<br />
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We land at MSP. It is late at night - probably too late for a flight to ORD, but still we must know what to do. We are all unloaded - hanging out at the airport.<br />
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My ma goes to the bathroom at some point. I get up - I am listening to some tunes on my sweet yellow Sony walkman- y'all owned one.<br />
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Paying no attention to where I am going I walk into a man. I say I am sorry and look up.<br />
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You know how when you are in a car accident or something the same - suddenly everything is in slow motion and you go deaf? Your brain takes in every visual millisecond - recording every tiny moment of the event and lets your remember it scene for scene?<br />
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That is what happened. I said I was sorry, looked up at this large man that I clumsily walked into - bounced off of him...and the second I recognized him as Mike Ditka - there was no sound - except for his words - slo-mo. He said "its okay" and put each of his hands on my shoulders and physically removed me from his path of travel. I stumbled a bit - in slow motion - and looked, turned around in amazement. Then everything returned to normal.<br />
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You probably can't appreciate this unless you are from Chicago. You can't appreciate it unless you remember the absolute hysteria over the 85 Bears. The Super Bowl Shuffle, Sweetness, having a crush on Jim McMahon and that awesome sweatband. I've shown my age. <br />
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I went into the bathroom where my ma was and I said " Ma!!! I think Mike Ditka is on our plane" and some lady from another stall yelled out "Are you on the flight from Phoenix to Chicago? He is - I was sitting next me - it is great!"<br />
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I like to refer to this as the time I was manhandled by Mike Ditka. Because he did in fact manhandle me. <br />
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Then we were all sitting around waiting to know the status of the flight. Mike Ditka is standing up, leaning against the ticket counter. Chewing gum like a fucking cow. Wearing a suit like it was his job. It was the first time in my life I realized - a man could wear a suit or he could wear a fucking insanely expensive tailored suit. There is a difference. He is irate and hollerin' "The crew is illegal - the crew went illegal - none of us are getting out of here". He was a cartoon of himself. He was the image the papers made him to be and it was happening in front of us. The anger and gum chewing. Everyone just sat around him like he was our Lord. Everyone scared to look directly at him but believing his word. Then randomly some brave - so fucking brave soul would approach his majesty and ask for an autograph. I remember being frightened when the first one approached - I thought for sure he would murder them with a swipe of his mighty paw. He signed the autographs in an unfriendly and irritated manner.<br />
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I love Mike Ditka. I love that he actually does chew gum like a cow and has a fiery temper. I love that I can say that he manhandled me. <br />
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When I reported this story to my friends in Phoenix - my friend, Ted, asked - Did they put the shirt you were wearing in a museum in your town? My favorite comment ever about this event. That shirt should be in a museum. Ditka worship is totally normal in Chicago. <br />
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<br />Merehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03189710938406338151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-474244303483095439.post-89450437554972227872013-06-02T22:54:00.003-05:002013-06-02T22:54:47.321-05:00The Walk SignalI have no car so - my bike and my legs are my only source of transportation.<br />
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I enjoy my smartphone as most do. This afternoon a man was angry that I dared to cross the road while looking at my phone. <br />
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I have had this happen before. Years ago a truck driver was beeping at me because I was talking on my phone when I crossed the road. I was on the phone with some friend when this happened and I got all crazy....I stopped in the middle of the road and was screaming at the guy. "wha? wha? What is your problem?" This was probably circa summer of 2010 - 2011 - I had a lot of anger then. Then some -perhaps out of homing man said "I think he is mad that you are on your phone". "I have a walk signal! I can walk and talk on my phone!" I yelled. "no...no - you can. I was just telling you what I think his problem was" he said...fearing me. <br />
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You know you have issues to deal with when you are standing in the middle of the road challenging a semi to run you over and a homeless man is trying to diffuse the situation. <br />
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Now - I am not saying I am without fault with my phone use. I was trying to text and ride my bike once and nearly ran into a lamppost. These things happen. BUT - I can look at my phone and walk. I look up every few seconds. I am fine doing it. I am WALKING - I am not going to hurt others.<br />
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SO - I can walk...on the WALK signal across the street while looking at my phone and WHO are YOU- person trying to make a right on a red to say I can't?<br />
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Blind people can cross the road on a walk on a walk signal. So guess what? I can too! I can look at my dandy phone and never look up and do it. I can be fucking blindfolded while taking pictures of your irate honking ass and crawl across the street! Sorry I am impeding your right on red - but do you see that lit up man in the international sign for walking? That is for me! I GET TO WALK before you get to turn. <br />
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I can do what ever the fuck I want in this crosswalk while that illumitaed man is up saying I can go and YOU right-on-red must wait.<br />
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Maybe I'm going to juggle. I am going to juggle as I cross the road. Is that going to piss you off? <br />
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Maybe I will get a catfish and a sharp knife and fillet that fucker as I cross the road. Is that cool? I am going to fillet a fucking fish as I walk across the street. It is my god damn American right to do so.<br />
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I am going to create and then eat the most amazing ice cream sundae EVER as I walk across the road (time permitting). <br />
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Next time I cross the road I will get a peacock, put it in a bird-hold (whatever that is) and de-feather it as I cross the road. <br />
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I am going to bring my laundry and pre-treat any stains with SHOUT. I am going to SHOUT it OUT in the crosswalk. You like that better than me looking at my phone?<br />
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You into origami? I am going to stop in the lane closest to your turning and make about 10 origami cranes of various colors<br />
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Is all that shit cool? Great then....me looking at my phone shouldn't be a big deal. <br />
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<br />Merehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03189710938406338151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-474244303483095439.post-75143092447523159072013-04-28T17:32:00.003-05:002013-04-28T17:32:28.164-05:005 for a 5kToday I ran my first 5k in about 4 years. A sad performance but least I am more cool than some people at the race. I might be slow, but I am friggin' awesome. <br />
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I was pleased to see that none of my old 5k annoyance have changed...such as:<br />
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1. Nerds that wear their 5k shirt to the 5k. Yes - this is my most bitchy complaint so it is first. I just think it is nerdy. There it is off my chest - now get that shirt off your chest.....<br />
That was a nerdy joke for a nerd complaint.<br />
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2. I line up in the back of the pack because I recognize that I am a slow runner. In this particular race they had it clearly marked where to line up by your mile time. A sign for 7 minute milers in the front...then a sign for 7.5 minute milers, etc. These are not decorations celebrating the different times it may take to finish a mile but I guess that is what people think....or they are super dumb and believe they can walk a mile in under 10 minutes. (which - I probably could. I am an Olympic speed walker.) There is no reason my slow fat ass should be passing your walking body 3 blocks from the start line. What is going on here? <br />
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Perhaps next time I will bring a clipboard and pencil and wear one of them old time reporter hats and interview these folks. Did you strain your quad out the gate? Did you get a block and say "fuck it, I'm walkin'"? Is this a protest to society and the way we are constantly discriminated against and pigeonholed by mile time? I can't tell you how many times I have been turned down a job because a simple Google search revealed my slow running. Curse the man!!! Or....are you just a fucking idiot? <br />
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The most SUPER annoying is when there is a gaggle of ladies chatting about nonsense while they push their strollers. FOUR OF THEM IN A ROW - taking up half the road. COME ON....why did you not start in the back? <br />
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I don't mind passing people - it feels better to pass than to be passed, but when I am trying to pass the mom-stroller road block it is annoying....mostly because it forces me to run more. My lazy ass wants to run 5 kilometers. NOT 5.1 kilometers. Out of the way. Orale!<br />
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3. The stinkin' announcers at these things. Is it a joke? They sound like parodies of radio dudes. I run the fastest in the beginning just to get away from it. Then I find myself running to it at the end which I do not like! That is not welcoming! I kinda wish the dude would be hiding with a megaphone at every turn - I would shave a good 10 minutes off my time just trying to flee from his voice and stupid adages.<br />
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4. My favorite and a favorite of my good friend Liz: The hydration belt. IT IS 3.1 MILES DUDE! What the hell? You are not going to dehydrate in your 3 mile run...for cryin' out loud... you are a fool. Did you mistake this for a 50k? Only reasonable explanation. In fact I think they should get rid of the hydration stations in the 5k, unless it is super hot. Let's make this tiny race a real challenge! They certainly should not be handing out Gatorade...really? Your electrolytes have been depleted after running 1.5 miles. Forgo the race and see a doctor.<br />
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5. I don't have a 5, but this dude was holding a sign along the race that said "YOU ARE ALL REALLY GOOD AT EXERCISE" and that was the highlight of my race. Hilarious!<br />
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Merehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03189710938406338151noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-474244303483095439.post-84280415303538844032013-04-21T22:14:00.001-05:002013-04-21T22:14:41.311-05:00Die Hipster Scum<div class="MsoNormal">
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--></style> I fucking hate hipsters.</div>
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This is not interesting – everyone but hipsters hate
hipsters. </div>
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As in any major city we have hipsters galore in Chicago …
but I am relieved that I do not live in the part of town that is super-saturated
with them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I did my eyes
would be permanently locked in the mid-eye roll position from constantly being
annoyed by skinny jeans on dudes, out of season stocking caps, stupid
eyeglasses, careless yet deliberate facial hair growth, brightly colored tights, and faux Zooey Deschanel quirkiness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Stop it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is fake.. all fake. </div>
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I have made several analogies to hipsters over the years:</div>
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My first:</div>
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Ok – you know how at ASU a very small part of the population
is Greek and basically if you are Greek you think Greek people are cool but if
you are not you are like “what the fuck loser?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Way to fit into a stereotype” that is what a hipster
is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Transfer that to a large
city.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That is what we are dealing
with.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now – people that played
rugby at ASU? Awesome mother-fuckers.</div>
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The above really is not fair to my friends that were
involved in the Greek system at ASU because they are actually cool and would
never lower themselves to being hipsters so I have adjusted that.</div>
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The thing about hipsters is – they are frauds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are judgmental fucking frauds and
they are rude and generally assholes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe this is part of their “thing” and if so – I got
news – NO ONE IS IMPRESSED. </div>
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No one on planet earth likes hypocrites – which is what a
hipster is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No one likes
judgmental people – which you must be to be a hipster.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Hipsters remind me of that Cake song – Rock ‘n Roll
Lifestyle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>TOTALLY describes
hipsters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Shut your traps – I know what you are thinking – that I AM
JUDGING.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes I am – but with
license.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am judging them for
being dicks that think they are better than everyone, smarter than everyone,
more in tune the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes – I am
judging them because the fact is – I know more than them!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am better and smarter than them….it
is a fact and not a judgment. </div>
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Like any group in the world they think they are original
when in fact they have clearly opened up a handbook on hipsterism and are
adhering to it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sure – perhaps the
fact that I dress like the norm makes me a follower – but YOU – YOU YOU FUCKING
HIPSTER are going out of your way to consciously follow a path.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sure – I am influence by what I see but
the fact that I don’t consciously seek out that path makes me a bigger
individual than your sorry ass follower self. </div>
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Groups like to say they ‘go against the norm’ and what
not…that they will not be a follower.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But who is the follower when you are in a group that consciously decides
how they will look and think?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Are we,
the common people, followers?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mmmmmmm
no.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You are.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We all follow society and the
norms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We all have smart phones
and have jobs and fall into our society.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Until you join a god damn Amish community – do not tell me how you are
an individual because you are wearing some retro shit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want to see some god damn butter
churned by you!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Churn me some
fucking butter! </div>
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Hipsters are brainwashed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They judge those that have not been brainwashed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are idiots.</div>
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So…on a scale of 1 to 10 on being a judgemental-hypocrite
(10 being the most) – 10 is definitely a hipster.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>NO ONE is more judgey and hypocritical.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Evengelical – Christian – Right wingers – they register a 7
on the scale…far more tolerable people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
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Correct me if I am wrong – but I assure you, I am not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Hipsters!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Your
time is up<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>- find a new identity,
the rest of us are bored of the current one. </div>
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yawn </div>
Merehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03189710938406338151noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-474244303483095439.post-10459834987183403822012-10-29T15:13:00.000-05:002012-10-29T15:13:08.155-05:00Natural DisastersPeople are braced in the northeast for Sandy.<br />
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People are being told to evacuate.<br />
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They closed down the stock market...that is some serious business.<br />
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So please - evacuate and take care.<br />
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People are insane when it comes to natural disasters. They want to ride shit out and protect their property. WHAT? <br />
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When I lived in Arizona and we had insane fires all over the state people would refuse to evacuate - they wanted to stand their ground. DUDE - it is an insane ravaging fire...not a calvary of Indians on horseback. You can't reason with a fire. You can't wave a gun around and scare it off. So - just get the fuck out before you die. The fire shall take you. Do you want to go the way of Bambi's mom?<br />
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I am passionate for taking proper precautions... but I am a hypocrite.<br />
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I have felt an earthquake three times in my life, all times while laying in bed and just couldn't be bothered to take any sort of action. I just laid there....shakin'<br />
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When I was watching TV one night a tornado siren went off and I was annoyed. It took me ten minutes to get off the couch. The only thing I did was put some pants on. I don't like wearing pants sometimes...ok. I figured if I was going to be tossed a couple miles via wind I should at least have the decency to be wearing pants. Then...I got in my car and drove to Target. Yup - took that seriously.<br />
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When the blizzard struck Chicago - I walked myself down to the local bar. Staying indoors was not something I took seriously. <br />
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I HATED having building fire drills when I worked downtown. UGH! I got better things to do than skip down all those stairs and stand outside for a period of time. PLUS - I am big. I don't need a fucking drill. If shit goes down and I need to get the fuck out of somewhere I will knock down the small and weak to save myself. I have NO problem admitting this. Drills are for the little people and they shouldn't be drills to exit the building. They should be drills on how to defend yourself from the giant people of Northern European decent that will come barreling down the stairwell and toss you aside. <br />
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Really we have all become desensitized to tornado sirens and drills and warnings. The weathermen are typically such alarmists that we don't think much of these warnings. <br />
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But I guess when the TODAY show is telling you to purchase kitty litter to poop in and the President is telling you to listen to local authorities....you should take action. I am not sure what I would do in that situation....probably go to Target or a bar. Merehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03189710938406338151noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-474244303483095439.post-42458328768805488772012-07-19T15:51:00.004-05:002012-07-19T16:22:12.469-05:00Things I Hate - Sunglass EditionHate is a strong word. I use it freely and unnecessarily. It is bad.<br />
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My friend, Cara, suggested I make a blog of things I hate. This could be reoccuring as I am a hater.<br />
This focuses on the inappropriate use of sunglasses: <br />
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<b>1. Sunglasses Indoors:</b><br />
Stop it. You are a jag. Two choices:<br />
A. You want to look like some celebrity- this makes you a jag or Italian, most likely both:<br />
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B. You are a celebrity trying to go unnoticed: REALLY? You may as well be wearing a giant hat that says "I am a fucking celebrity! Look at me....but don't notice me". Fool:<br />
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<b>2. Strangers that try to talk to me while sunglassed:</b><br />
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I actively ignore these people. Ask my friend Kelly - I did it with her present once. Take off the glasses and look at me with your eyeballs. If you don't, I do not know if you are actually trying to communicate with me. You could be talking on a Bluetooth, criminally insane, or wanting to rob me or splash acid in my face while protecting your identity. And...it is fucking rude.<br />
You want to know how to get to The Bean from here? I am sorry sir, if you remove your sunglasses I would know you are talking to me and not Siri. I will be more than willing to help once you have indicated you are talking to a human. That involves eye contact. <br />
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<b>3. Sunglasses and a baseball hat:</b><br />
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One or the other dude. It looks silly otherwise. The purpose of the baseball hat style is to provide your eyes shade from the sun. Wearing both at once - well that is like me skipping through the rain with an umbrella while wearing a wetsuit. This double protection is not needed unless you are robbing a bank. <br />
Double offense for wearing a baseball hat backwards with sunglasses. Biggest douche look on the planet. Or you went ahead and went Greek during college and took the whole "it isn't 4 years, it is 4 life" WAY TOO SERIOUSLY<b>.</b><br />
<b>4. Anyone thinking I would purchase sunglasses that cost more than $9.99 </b><br />
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I lose sunglasses like it is my job. Just lost a pair last week. It is my talent.<br />
<b>5. The intentional sunglass tan: </b><br />
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Oh look! You are so outdoorsy! Were you being active outdoors all weekend? Fuck you. Put some sunscreen on your god damn face and you wouldn't look like a tool. Oddly you think this makes you look cool. You are wrong. <br />
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<br />Merehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03189710938406338151noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-474244303483095439.post-82970339273889499922012-05-21T18:38:00.003-05:002012-05-21T18:38:32.134-05:00NATO melee III can't stop, these images are fantastic...<br />
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I really hope these guys were not protesting anything to do with capitalism. HE IS WEARING an Abercrombie & Fitch shit. For fuck sake dude....get it together.<br />
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WHAT are you doing? Chicago is full of beautiful parks. Why would you get all zen in the middle of a street? You are stupid. AND what..what? The police are telling you to move and you won't? It is typically never a good idea to sit in some meditation position in the middle of a street. You would be told to move along regardless of NATO or crowd control measures. The point you are trying to make is asinine. I hope that club met your head after this was taken.<br />
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Sir - you are donning denim overalls and a Pokemon backpack....this may be why you were detained.<br />
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This is the Chicago PD rain gear? Seems....odd.<br />
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For real....why are these people wielding thin plywood sticks? A paint stirrer would be more effective. Really? You couldn't stop at Home Depot or The Crafty Beaver to pick up a real piece of wood? You are so lazy you just went to the Blick Art Store on State Street. If you are really going to assault a police officer and deal with the charges....make it count!<br />
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This was the scene in my neighborhood as protestors walked to the Mayor's home. Hey - guys - he is probably not home....just sayin'....<br />
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Horses are large. Don't mess with horses. What are these people doing? Not sane.<br />
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These folks are probably protesting the battle of Fort Dearborn. IT IS OVER. It was 200 years ago. LET IT GO. Some Indians died. Get over it.<br />
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Seriously...why are you dressed like that?<br />
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The Amish are being arrested? Perhaps this has gone too far....<br />
<br />Merehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03189710938406338151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-474244303483095439.post-29800877214874975572012-05-21T17:02:00.003-05:002012-05-21T17:09:46.197-05:00NATO meleeI don't care if people protest. I just think it is an odd thing to do when you could spend your time in a more productive manner. In particular, I do not enjoy protestors that can't just follow the rules, listen to police, and be peaceful about it.
If you get all rowdy and you are shoving policeman in riot gear, throwing bricks at them, and hitting them with some stick you bought at a craft store - why is it is a surprise you have been bloodied by a billy club? If you do not like government or the police then PLEASE - go...live off the grid somewhere. Refrain from living in a major metropolitan area where normal citizen appreciate order. Go...live off the land deep in some forest in Montana, dig a well for water, buy some solar panels for electricity and some guns, and eat squirrel. Is someone stopping you?
My favorite pics from NATO:
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Yes. I have no idea why the streets were so heavily lined with police. You people are like wild animals or drunk toddlers. You can't stay where you are permitted so you must move blockades. What are you proving besides the fact that you are not fully evolved? I am sure the police of Chicago were SUPER thrilled to go through training to deal with your breed and most likely worked overtime, taking away from their free time because YOU have the free time to run wild and be destructive.
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You tried to storm the Art Institute. Yes they were having some dinner in there. What would you have done if you got in there? Probably destroy priceless pieces of art because you are a classless barbarian. Yes - YOU SHOW those French Impressionists what you think of ... NATO! (wait...how is this related?)
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Cool...you broke a stick over a policeman's head. You are brilliant. Please - be outraged that you got the beat down for that.
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When I want to understand where people are coming from and learn something...I ALWAYS have the most respect for those dressed like freaks.
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Oh my god....I had NO IDEA that Rahm invented NATO. The chaos? Yes he is responsible because you have no control of your actions or your body. You are just a puppet. WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? You should get kicked in the face for being stupid.
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Once again....I am sure nothing brought the police more joy than being in Kevlar and full riot gear....when it is 90 degrees out. Let us also be aware the evil police provided a/c buses and water to the protestors.
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You dumb bitch...WHAT ARE YOU DOING???? WHERE ARE YOU GOING? There is just more police and police on horses on the other side of all the police. What is your purpose? Are you high? Do you think this is an elaborate game of Red Rover? Let's say you break through....then what? What have you proved? OH then you are arrested and all mad. Great....YOU SHOULD BE ARRESTED. You were told over and over and over to GO HOME and you didn't. There is nothing over there for you. WHERE ARE YOU GOING?
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Good.
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OK fine - you are handing in your military honors and apparently you believe you were 'duped' into participating in the war. HOLD UP UNEDUCATED DUMMIES...ummmmmmmm....was there a draft? NO. YOU WILLING signed up for the military. No one made you. These wars have been going on for a LONG time. You were aware of them. So when you signed up...you knew you would probably go over there. Stop being silly. You can't run around playing the conscientious objector card. This is not the 60's or 70's, this is not Vietnam. Speaking of that....
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YOU MAKE ME SICK. STOP trying to recreate some iconic image from the 60's. THIS IS NOT THE SAME FUCKING THING. Your originality is piss poor. You are so lame. You are not, nor will you ever be part of some kind of TIME picture of the century. You are an idiot. Good job picking a weed and trying to be symbolic and failing.
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In closing, luckily this is America and if one thing can bring police and protestors together...it is fast food.Merehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03189710938406338151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-474244303483095439.post-79285019492098716412012-05-12T20:40:00.001-05:002012-05-12T20:40:52.821-05:00"I Can't Cook..."Many things annoy me in life and the statement "I can't cook" is one of them.
I believe this was birthed out of the Sex & The City era. "OH LOOK AT ME! I am a dumb bitch! I love $700 shoes and have no idea how to cook! I am so sophisticated, yet adorable!!!!"
NO NO NO NO NO
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MKiGS-OKoQs/T68M-Ksv-uI/AAAAAAAAAxI/SPTHKyuAvEE/s1600/11111seximages.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="224" width="225" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MKiGS-OKoQs/T68M-Ksv-uI/AAAAAAAAAxI/SPTHKyuAvEE/s400/11111seximages.jpg" /></a></div>Dumb bitches took this TV program way too literally. If you, as a person, are so simple that you could be easily described as a character in a TV show....you are lame. If you aspire to BE THAT character, you should be in a mental hospital.
So...you decided that not being able to cook is some ADORABLE quality - YET you are a powerful, successful professinal woman!!! You are a FEMINIST! NO! YOU, my friend, are an idiot.
Do you want to know what successful woman is a FUCKING genius? Love her or hate her. There is NO denying it: Martha Stewart.
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She was a model as a teen, became a stockbroker, THEN created an fucking empire based on doing shit any self respecting woman should innately know how to do.
THAT, my friends, is a role model. You can take your fake characters from an HBO series that you model your life after and shove that up your ass. Martha Stewart? You don't have to like her. But she is incredible and REAL!!!
Back to cooking:
This is how you cook something: take item wanting to be cooked and expose it to a source of heat. Fire, oven, microwave, radiator, car engine, dishwasher on heated dry. That is how something is cooked.
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Now - I get that people say "I can't cook" and really mean "I don't want to cook" "I don't like to cook" "I care not to learn something new that is typically needed for survival on earth".
When I say cook, I mean ANYTHING. I am not suggesting some novice cook open up a gourmet cookbook and make it happen. No no. Like anything in life you need to practice and work up to more difficult things.
When one learns to play the piano they aren't handed some complicated piece and told to learn it. NO. They learn how to play Mary Had A Little Lamb and move forward.
No one hands Anna Karenina over to a 7 year old to read.
Once a child learns addition they don't move on to calculus.
So - that is the thing. There are a zillion simple recipes in this world. Start there and move on.
Realize something about me: I am not taken care of, nor have I been in a LOOOOOOOOOONG time. There may be a bit of jealousy in my outrage. More - it is my annoyance for idiots which we will get to later.
Maybe I am jealous. I wish I had one less task on my plate. But I have taken care of myself forever. Some people have this luxury of going from mama and dada to college to living with a significant other and...cut. Scene. Done. Never actually had to take care of themselves.
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I do everything. I take out the fucking garbage, I clean, I make the money, I pay the bills, I make meals, I do the taxes, I take care of ALL car issues (maintenance, oil change, city sticker, plate renewal, tire change, battery change), I replace belts on vacuum cleaners, I can haul a 150 pound air conditioner up 3 flights of stairs, I hang shelves, I get to and from airports, I unclog drains, I drive myself to the emergency room, I attach DVD players to TVs, I walk alone at night, I fix computers, I can navigate around my city, I relight pilot lights, I can put a 9 foot long orange coach in a Ford Explorer and drive it to a storage unit while steering with one hand and holding onto the couch with the other, I change light bulbs, I refill the ink on the printer, I do all the grocery shopping, I can miss a flight in a foreign land and rebook it ALL BY MYSELF.
AMAZING! NO NO NO Not amazing. I am a human. These are the cards I was dealt and I figure it out. I am an able bodied human. I have a brain. When you have these things....you can in fact do all normal life maintenance.
Soooo...it is annoying when one claims they "can't cook".
Most that say they 'can't cook' have not or do not actively do 90% of the above list. So figure it the fuck out.
Unless you are handicapped, illiterate, or so dumb you can not follow directions....there is no reason you 'can't cook'. You just don't want to or have to. WHICH is awesome. Just don't say you 'can not' do it. You are spoiled, admit it.
There are undoubtedly people that can't cook or have trouble cooking or just shouldn't cook:
These guys:
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No. I just don't want to eat meat from a rabid raccoon you found dead on the side of the road.
This lady:
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BUT...I bet she does cook. I would put money on it. She cooks up a storm.
The person attached to this:
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A little difficult, but again, they probably make more of an effort than those that "can't cook"
This dude:
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I would say he CAN NOT cook. BUT DON'T YOU DARE compare yourself to that. Your lack of cooking is purely laziness and an unwilling to learn and enrich your life. YOU ARE NOT A crippled genius. Don't fool yourself.
This friend:
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Calm down. I am not saying those with mental disabilities CAN'T cook. I am just saying...perhaps they should be supervised around an open flame. Microwave? Totally cool. IN fact...I bet many mentally challenged people enjoy cooking and would like to do more. So....what does that say about those able minded that 'can't cook'????Merehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03189710938406338151noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-474244303483095439.post-6237216697400394832012-04-16T20:10:00.001-05:002012-04-16T20:59:07.608-05:00Masters of InefficiencyNothing is more annoying to me than witnessing inefficiency. <br /><br />In particular when it is interfering with my precious God-damn time. My time is actually not that precious. I JUST CAN'T STAND watching someone act like a fool. It just annoys me. I can't figure out what goes through their heads. It is like watching an adult eat a crayon or drink bleach. Why? Why would you do that? I don't get it. <br /><br />For instance: when I buy alcohol and the person asks for my ID. IF ANYONE knows me they know I CAN NEVER find my freakin' ID. So I start fumbling through my wallet. I have an idea - while I am doing that, kindly bag up the beer. We both know you are only asking for it for legal reasons. LOOK AT ME! Yes - I have been blessed with amazing skin HOWEVER - we all know I am NOT under 21. Bag the beer while I look for the ID. Note the wrinkles in the billboard of a forehead I have. <br /><br />I decided to video the most extreme case of inefficiency I have ever seen in my life.<br /><br />The things that annoy me:<br /><br />1. She is in the self check-out. She does not belong there. She is slow and has a lot of items. <br /><br />2. LOOK AT IT! WATCH! She is moving items from her stupid personal cart to the counter/shelf. Then from the little counter/shelf she scans the item and places it in the bagging area..but not in a bag. I guess step three was placing them in a bag....<br /><br />What in the holy hell? Why not remove the item from your cart, scan it, place in bag in one movement.<br /><br />3. Something falls off the side and she takes the time to retrieve it....VERY carefully. The careful nature in the pick-up is disturbing. She handles it as though it has a spinal cord injury. REALLY? REALLY? Why not just leave it there till you bag? All you are doing is putting it in your bizarre bagging area. Why not just leave it there until you put it in an actual bag. <br /><br />4. Please note the way she lifts the single roll of paper towels from the cart. She used two hands, it was a slow movement and involved a slight bend at the knee. IT IS A ROLL OF PAPER TOWELS! It is NOT an anvil. <br /><br />5. I am an asshole...ok. I admit it. This annoyed me. FINE FINE...maybe she has some issue. Perhaps an old injury. If that is the case...why be in the self check-out?<br /><br />6. SHE was not running around saving the earth...she bagged that shit later. So don't be thinking she had the items on deck to place in her stupid cart. <br /><br />Video is below. <br /><br /><iframe width="420" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/uHHwkTkctgY" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>Merehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03189710938406338151noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-474244303483095439.post-13093916393325520552012-03-23T23:27:00.002-05:002012-03-23T23:54:55.030-05:00Mere on Current EventsThe Murder of Trayvon Martin<br /><br />This is disturbing. No one is allowed the authority to act as police on the streets. Everyone should be outraged by this. <br /><br />There is only one thing anyone needs to know about this and that is the 911 call that child murderer, George Zimmerman made. He was told to stop pursuing him. He did not. Apparently there was a scuffle and George Zimmerman, murdered this boy.<br /><br />I typically use my blog for humor. But - this is outrageous. <br /><br />George Zimmerman murdered a minor and was not put in jail immediately?<br /><br />I think he is in jail now. Maybe not. I don't really have a clear understanding.<br /><br />Dude best be in jail. He is clearly a threat as his judgement is in crazytown. <br /><br />Then I saw that Geraldo Rivera was blaming the fact that Trayvon was wearing a hoodie was the reason for the murder.<br /><br />Couple things:<br /> 1. This is the same reasoning that says when a girl is drunk, she may be legally raped.<br /> 2. Well...let's outlaw hoodies. WHAT? NO. That will send Old Navy into bankruptcy and hence the second financial crisis of the world.<br /><br />I have a crazy idea: how about...MANIACS CAN'T HAVE GUNS!!!! <br /><br />Seems easier to control gun sales than hoodie sales.<br /><br />I don't get why people need guns, but hey - if that makes you feel better - that is your right and that is cool. <br /><br />BUT - you lost that right when you are fucking maniac. Do you hate gays? Do you hate doctors that preform abortions? Do you hate people outside your race? Do you think a black minor with a bag of Skittles is a threat to you that you must murder? If you answered yes to any of those things...your 'rights' to a gun are done. <br /><br />Hoodies, on the other hand, buy as many as you want.Merehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03189710938406338151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-474244303483095439.post-72417546933551769792011-12-30T15:06:00.032-06:002011-12-30T16:02:23.982-06:00PSA posters....circa 1937I made my profile picture a poster about pneumonia...as I have pneumonia. Obviously armed with peasant stock and viking blood, I do not feel the effects of pneumonia as the average weak person does. Nonetheless...I have it. <br /><br />This poster is circa the late 30's and was created by the WPA. I am not smart and don't know what that is. I am also lazy so all I know from wikipedia is that it is some New Deal thing. I read the first line and that was that. So it seems the WPA made posters to educated the people. Like a PSA.<br /><br />I love these posters.<br /><br />#1:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-R74aintkUPs/Tv4qD3SU42I/AAAAAAAAAtg/_0pJ6lIbvDY/s1600/penguins-wpa-poster.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 238px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-R74aintkUPs/Tv4qD3SU42I/AAAAAAAAAtg/_0pJ6lIbvDY/s400/penguins-wpa-poster.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692033224911676258" /></a><br />What the hell is this? Why does it not say what 6 + 8 equals. Who is this helping? What am I missing. I fear I may be an idiot. <br /><br />#2:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-skF4Lo5JK_g/Tv4pqUCp6iI/AAAAAAAAAtU/BqLQz2EBsi0/s1600/this-is-market-wpa-poster.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 190px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-skF4Lo5JK_g/Tv4pqUCp6iI/AAAAAAAAAtU/BqLQz2EBsi0/s400/this-is-market-wpa-poster.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692032785953974818" /></a><br />What? Is this informational? Is this designed to bring horror or joy? Is this good or bad? I need more direction.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />#3:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TW6cDw2Diy4/Tv4qmppqO-I/AAAAAAAAAts/oajRJ6joPOI/s1600/jobs-for-girls-wpa-poster.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 236px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TW6cDw2Diy4/Tv4qmppqO-I/AAAAAAAAAts/oajRJ6joPOI/s400/jobs-for-girls-wpa-poster.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692033822546869218" /></a><br />You too can have one of those dishwashing jobs you have always dreamed of. What?<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />#4:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-D8yBn6x69E0/Tv4q3tQUfoI/AAAAAAAAAt4/uq9s73KkcQo/s1600/evite-accidentes-wpa-poster.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 190px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-D8yBn6x69E0/Tv4q3tQUfoI/AAAAAAAAAt4/uq9s73KkcQo/s400/evite-accidentes-wpa-poster.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692034115572104834" /></a><br />What? They had e-vites in the 30's? <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />#5:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2A3NEE6me4o/Tv4rn9s1tRI/AAAAAAAAAuE/IOdD2pP4ZTY/s1600/art-classes-for-children-wpa-poster.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 229px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2A3NEE6me4o/Tv4rn9s1tRI/AAAAAAAAAuE/IOdD2pP4ZTY/s400/art-classes-for-children-wpa-poster.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692034944620410130" /></a><br />The teacher of this class sucks. Why is that person's eyes the opposite of cross-eyed? Is that even humanly possible.<br /><br />#6:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-brSCIqhXmsY/Tv4sGnCBu7I/AAAAAAAAAuQ/RorSRXYjCnc/s1600/111live-here-at-low-rent.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 227px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-brSCIqhXmsY/Tv4sGnCBu7I/AAAAAAAAAuQ/RorSRXYjCnc/s400/111live-here-at-low-rent.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692035471111207858" /></a><br />No way Jose. If the government is advertising for folks to move in....I can't imagine what goes on...<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />#7:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5TexgDGdomw/Tv4srrKBA1I/AAAAAAAAAuc/YEE3NlEC_Mc/s1600/111storekeeper-wpa-poster.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 192px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5TexgDGdomw/Tv4srrKBA1I/AAAAAAAAAuc/YEE3NlEC_Mc/s400/111storekeeper-wpa-poster.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692036107873616722" /></a><br />Again with the sketchy storekeeper...what was going on with produce in the late 30's? Were all storekeepers shady? It is somewhat horrifying. Yet brings me back to the question I asked on Facebook...why do we have tamper proof seals on various dairy products but produce just sits out for anyone to inject a syringe of anthrax into? Who? Who is this dairy menace that is a threat to whipped cream?<br /><br />#8:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-64TF53BvhDQ/Tv4vi067_wI/AAAAAAAAAuo/274CN-5vtMc/s1600/123diphtheria-scarlet-fever-meningitis-poster.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 221px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-64TF53BvhDQ/Tv4vi067_wI/AAAAAAAAAuo/274CN-5vtMc/s400/123diphtheria-scarlet-fever-meningitis-poster.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692039254410788610" /></a>wait...wait...wait...so is this the time before federal regulations? I would assume the milk man isn't soliciting crappy milk....but that is me. Happy to pay taxes to ensure I don't need to worry about such things - me. Wait - is this what people want? A society free of gov't regulation so we can PERSONALLY worry if milk was properly tested for disease? Odd. <br /><br />#9.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DSHb99uDSC4/Tv4wjSOnSNI/AAAAAAAAAu0/jF2HRKrVLlc/s1600/123dont-gamble-with-syphilis-health-poster.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 237px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DSHb99uDSC4/Tv4wjSOnSNI/AAAAAAAAAu0/jF2HRKrVLlc/s400/123dont-gamble-with-syphilis-health-poster.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692040361789573330" /></a><br /><br />The number of syphilis posters is disturbing. Apparently it was a real issue. <br /><br />#10.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JPscpNwOGxM/Tv4w0Sqqt7I/AAAAAAAAAvA/mTaauQOiKVo/s1600/123drunk-driving-safety-poster.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 192px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JPscpNwOGxM/Tv4w0Sqqt7I/AAAAAAAAAvA/mTaauQOiKVo/s400/123drunk-driving-safety-poster.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692040653965014962" /></a><br /><br />Is this a drinking and driving poster or are they telling you not to mix gasoline with your whiskey? Was that a popular cocktail. I really am lead to believe it is the later. I don't think it was even against the law until 1983.....at the earliest.<br /><br />#11.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5DbJiiwwKyk/Tv4xmxG96WI/AAAAAAAAAvM/d74kyQHkewo/s1600/123find-syphilis-health-poster.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 225px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5DbJiiwwKyk/Tv4xmxG96WI/AAAAAAAAAvM/d74kyQHkewo/s400/123find-syphilis-health-poster.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692041521130236258" /></a><br /><br />Like I said...lots of syphilis in those days...<br /><br /><br />#12.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eC_4I8AUWFg/Tv4xyu9JnPI/AAAAAAAAAvY/3-focTxyCwg/s1600/123fly-is-deadly-health-poster.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 193px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eC_4I8AUWFg/Tv4xyu9JnPI/AAAAAAAAAvY/3-focTxyCwg/s400/123fly-is-deadly-health-poster.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692041726710619378" /></a><br /><br />Vague. So vague and so horrifying. What is going on? Did the common housefly have a deadly disease?<br /><br />#13.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Psg5J0ZDDHc/Tv4yEkwJ8rI/AAAAAAAAAvk/XR8Em-BHuPo/s1600/123lack-of-funds-wpa-poster.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 236px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Psg5J0ZDDHc/Tv4yEkwJ8rI/AAAAAAAAAvk/XR8Em-BHuPo/s400/123lack-of-funds-wpa-poster.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692042033209406130" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />timeless<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />#14.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nUV-voWWI_I/Tv4yPsEzgtI/AAAAAAAAAvw/J6KQqJhRElo/s1600/123tuberculosis-health-poster.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 227px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nUV-voWWI_I/Tv4yPsEzgtI/AAAAAAAAAvw/J6KQqJhRElo/s400/123tuberculosis-health-poster.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692042224153625298" /></a><br /><br />This explains the unaffectionate generations of 'ol.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />#15.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CjVF2PG-wQ0/Tv4yhwoAgZI/AAAAAAAAAv8/pErT8FBOkPw/s1600/123protect-your-hands-safety-poster.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 187px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CjVF2PG-wQ0/Tv4yhwoAgZI/AAAAAAAAAv8/pErT8FBOkPw/s400/123protect-your-hands-safety-poster.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692042534612664722" /></a><br /><br />Maybe the picture should show a man with gloves on....or some other contraption that involves hand protection.Merehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03189710938406338151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-474244303483095439.post-3166991551898980202011-11-11T22:40:00.003-06:002011-11-11T23:02:11.837-06:00Down with it.I hate this:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7kXORiaEDpY/Tr39AZUlZqI/AAAAAAAAAs8/nBWQDvIVD5U/s1600/fool94462397232634_100000066292614_1259186_1304072682_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7kXORiaEDpY/Tr39AZUlZqI/AAAAAAAAAs8/nBWQDvIVD5U/s400/fool94462397232634_100000066292614_1259186_1304072682_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673969288795743906" /></a> <br /><br />FIRST LINE: "I am a college senior" The fact this little bitch is about to go on some self righteous diatribe and is a college senior - presumably 21 years old - is hilarious. It is hilarious to anyone that was 21. Yes - we all think we know everything at that age. But then we grow up a realize we knew shit about shit. The people that HONESTLY think they did in fact have it figured out at 21 or any age - ARE ASSHOLES that know SHIT about SHIT.<br /><br />Dear Dummy, <br /><br />I have some points to make:<br /><br />1. You make minimum wage, work less than full time, and have no debt. Perhaps you should refrain from wasting your time writing shit on giant paper with a Sharpie (I'd love to know HOW YOU AFFORDED the Sharpie and that fancy paper - neither is cheap - they are strictly a middle class purchase not for the poverty level you live in) you should write a book, get your own TV show. Suzie Orman has NOTHING on your financial brilliance. <br /><br />2. A state university? You act like that is a sacrifice. MOST PEOPLE go to state universities. OH.MY.GOD. Do you also make the sacrifice to breathe the same air as everyone? Drive on the same roads? WOW. You are a humanitarian. <br /><br />3. You started saving for college at 17? WHAT THE FUCK? UNLESS you started school at 30 --- this statement is ABSURD at best. On this statement alone - you should have your degree revoked. <br /><br />4. You got 'decent' grades and received NOT ONE...BUT TWO scholarships. Ok...I am going to call you BULLSHIT. You got decent grades and enrolled at a decent university and have scholarships flowing out your ass? Are you disabled? An orphan? A minority? Something is setting you apart. STOP BEING AN ASS!!!!<br /><br />5. A scholarship is a handout you fucking asshole!!!!<br /><br />6. The laundry list of shit you don't have. I don't have half that shit. WHY is this a sacrifice? When I was in college, we had a saying in my house "the alley shall provide"....when we needed a piece of furniture we would just roam alleys looking for shit. Stop being a little bitch. We've all been there. Some more than others. <br /><br />7. Oh golly! And the rest - well...you got IT ALL FIGURED OUT!!! Congrats. I got news for you sweetheart, you live in a dream world. I hope life continues to be a piece of cake as it has been so you can look down on everyone else. Everyone else that has also worked hard and found themselves in situations they NEVER thought they'd be in when they were a know-it-all college senior.Merehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03189710938406338151noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-474244303483095439.post-55648425811589637412011-11-07T17:41:00.007-06:002011-11-07T18:24:37.086-06:00When You're a Jet, You're a Jet...from your first cigarette till your last dying day!!!!!!!!!!!<br /><br />OR....something like that. It's from West Side Story. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FnvYOEFmN4M/Trh1Yq_TloI/AAAAAAAAAsY/BfalVbZOA4E/s1600/sharkswss.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 314px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FnvYOEFmN4M/Trh1Yq_TloI/AAAAAAAAAsY/BfalVbZOA4E/s320/sharkswss.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672412797390263938" /></a><br />I love a good musical. <br /><br />I have a story in my life where I say "it was like West Side Story"<br /><br />I like it. NO. I LOVE saying that.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />What happened? Me. I happened.<br /><br />There was a disagreement of some sort at a Filibertos. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0C8a_scVqEU/Trh0PWj39KI/AAAAAAAAAsA/C9DVqM7Rb1U/s1600/filimages.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 237px; height: 179px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0C8a_scVqEU/Trh0PWj39KI/AAAAAAAAAsA/C9DVqM7Rb1U/s320/filimages.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672411537776047266" /></a>Filibertos is a popular Mexican eatery for drunks. I could write an entire blog post about Fils. How you order. How you don't. How I nearly died on a bike trying to keep balance while holding a burrito while drunk. How I found a giant raw shrimp in the middle of my "Arizona burrito, no pico, plus sour cream"....but I won't. We are focusing on one evening.<br /><br />So...some disagreement. Some white girls and some Hispanics. <br /><br />West Side Story.<br /><br />I, drunk, ironed it out. I wanted to make peace. Then , I, drunk, JUST HAD TO HAVE the last word. The Hispanics walk to the door. I am kneeling at a booth, holding a soda in my hand. I say some smart ass thing as they are walking out the door. The dude looks at me. "ahh crap" I think...just pissed him off. He back hands me across the face, knocks my drink out of my hand.<br /><br />My friend, Mary, is up before my drink even meets the wall. She grabs him, punches him in the face.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Lz0FJG_o4uQ/Trh130nNVoI/AAAAAAAAAsk/_NYWv-bwLEE/s1600/wssimages.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 277px; height: 182px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Lz0FJG_o4uQ/Trh130nNVoI/AAAAAAAAAsk/_NYWv-bwLEE/s320/wssimages.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672413332549490306" /></a>IT. IS. ON.<br /><br />WEST. SIDE. STORY.<br /><br />I did nothing in this battle but provoke it. I didn't throw one punch. This shames me. But, it was confusing. I wasn't prepared. The insanity was overwhelming. <br /><br />Suddenly there was punches to the head and screaming. At one point someone picked up one of the Hispanics and threw him across a condiment stand and straws went flying everywhere. It was the 4th of July of straws. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--x3kfaltZJA/Trh0xkIFchI/AAAAAAAAAsM/MQlZ-PvPCJ8/s1600/west-side-story-knife-fight.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 234px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--x3kfaltZJA/Trh0xkIFchI/AAAAAAAAAsM/MQlZ-PvPCJ8/s320/west-side-story-knife-fight.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672412125533139474" /></a>I am not kidding. You take away the blades and queer dancing...it was West Side Story.<br /><br />I remember looking over at the workers at one point and they were all behind walls, watching with only their heads poking out.<br /><br />It is Arizona. I can't believe no one had a gun. Someone yelled they were calling the police. My other friend said "NO NO NO. We are drunk, no calling the police".<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wynnuQ880AY/Trh2KbUtMHI/AAAAAAAAAsw/gZTnduhivYc/s1600/azpimages.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 316px; height: 160px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wynnuQ880AY/Trh2KbUtMHI/AAAAAAAAAsw/gZTnduhivYc/s320/azpimages.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672413652178514034" /></a>The Hispanics left at a police threat and someone did call. The police were there in moments but the Hispanics already left. They were not new to crime. This was not their first rodeo, they backed their car out of the parking lot. In AZ we don't have front license plates so...this is a good idea. We couldn't get a plate number. <br /><br />The police talked to us about it. One said "let me get this straight, you girls got in a fist fight with some Mexican thugs, are unharmed, and they ran away?" <br /><br />Yes...yes...that is true. <br /><br />It is a lesson to all. Do not fuck with me or my friends. Mostly my friends because I was worthless in this event.Merehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03189710938406338151noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-474244303483095439.post-66468089534463076832011-10-19T19:23:00.014-05:002011-10-19T21:47:48.929-05:00The Unneccessary HonkThe number one thing in this world that sends me straight from calm normal human to an outraged, uncompromising, blind with rage lunatic is...the unnecessary honk.<br /><br />Nuclear weapons? Child pornography? Genocide? No..no.no.no....couldn't care less.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vfxz51k8Bpw/Tp-EkdHhTCI/AAAAAAAAAqI/IV8WVgC3GUs/s1600/111index.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 160px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vfxz51k8Bpw/Tp-EkdHhTCI/AAAAAAAAAqI/IV8WVgC3GUs/s200/111index.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665392618081700898" /></a><br /><br />AN UNNECESSARY HONK? OH YES! You give me an unnecessary honk and you have unleashed a God damn maniac. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zGPhuDm718k/Tp-FaO1eh6I/AAAAAAAAAqU/Njaqfp3paeY/s1600/12111mages.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 131px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zGPhuDm718k/Tp-FaO1eh6I/AAAAAAAAAqU/Njaqfp3paeY/s200/12111mages.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665393541960861602" /></a>I turn into one of those cartoon characters where they go red from toe to head and steam starts coming out of their ears. Then I squirm around in my seat screaming "DID YOU JUST FUCKING HONK AT ME?", but I am held in the seat belt, unable to move as erratically as I'd like.<br /><br />That is when I become the person that likes to live dangerously. The person that is just begging to get shot.<br /><br />I was reminded of this issue of mine because I got a U.H. when I was parking my car this evening. I park on the street. I saw someone was leaving. I pulled my car tight to the car behind it as to allow others to pass and put on the blinker. To everyone in the free world this means "go around me, fine sir, I'll be parking here". NOT to the dimwit that came up behind me 2 minutes later. He honked. <br /><br />I didn't react as I normally would have. I just did a lesser restrained freak out and said "are you fucking mentally disabled? I am looking to park, go around me you dummy". <br /><br />What the hell was that honk for? He did go around me. He had plenty of room. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zOuB9WLGA-I/Tp-F5gmf3EI/AAAAAAAAAqg/mSXGApNu6Js/s1600/1311images.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zOuB9WLGA-I/Tp-F5gmf3EI/AAAAAAAAAqg/mSXGApNu6Js/s200/1311images.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665394079305817154" /></a>I am not sure what more I could have done. Put out flares? Hire ramp workers to signal to this fool I was parking. I don't have the money for that every time I need to p-park...more importantly - I don't need the witnesses when my p-park skills are lacking.<br /><br />I was so much calmer than normal. What is with me?<br /><br />Typical me would have done what is right in this situation: Swing my car out into the middle of the road as to not let him pass. <br /><br />I have a thing I do. If someone dare give me an unnecessary honk - I will do all in my power to give them reason to honk. <br /><br />I am not talking about the polite honk that says "dude...go!"<br /><br />I am talking the angry laying on the horn honk, like they are signaling me that I am about to murder a human honk.<br /><br />Am I a perfect driver? Of course not. But, I have been driving for 18 years and I have never been in a real collision. I think that says something. The only times my car has met another car:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fdkOu63mCxw/Tp-HBhHMGzI/AAAAAAAAAqs/ECnutPopmQk/s1600/12121index.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 136px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fdkOu63mCxw/Tp-HBhHMGzI/AAAAAAAAAqs/ECnutPopmQk/s200/12121index.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665395316393515826" /></a>A cab driver hit me, he was in the wrong and there was no damage. I have NEVER in my life had someone look at me with such hate. BUT - I think he was angry I was a woman driving a car and that I was wearing western clothing. I kid you not...never have I had someone look at me like that.<br /><br />Then there was that incident with the Special Olympic bowling team - BUT - I still say - not my fault. That bitch driving around the team let the person she hit go...whatever - long story. Point is - never have I been in an car damaging collision. <br /><br />THE TIMES WHEN I LOST MY MIND ON THE UNNECESSARY HONKER:<br /><br />CASE #1:<br />I was in the lane to make a left turn onto Western Avenue from Peterson. Two busy thoroughfares of Chicago. The light went yellow. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YbXmLGBWQW8/Tp-HptAOkyI/AAAAAAAAAq4/wuPAZ7g8H6o/s1600/14141ages.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 133px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YbXmLGBWQW8/Tp-HptAOkyI/AAAAAAAAAq4/wuPAZ7g8H6o/s200/14141ages.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665396006780310306" /></a>I have this crazy thing where...I value life. My life in particular. I don't trust other people. SURE! It's YELLOW...so go make your turn. FUCK NO. Until I am sure the cars coming towards me, in the lane I will travel across, are slowing down...I don't turn. I don't need them to be at a stop. I just want to make sure they have noted the light shall soon be red. See above, I have never ended up in a light post. I don't plan on it. SO...I make sure. I have spaced out and ran a red light. It doesn't make you a bad person! They are accidents. I just believe we are all responsible and it doesn't come down to just obeying lights. You need to have the sense that some people don't. I'm not willing to die or injure myself or anyone in my car to say "they should have stopped" NO. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3CB59TaVU7U/Tp-H0r3G0bI/AAAAAAAAArE/KS1bISMS7P4/s1600/14441index.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3CB59TaVU7U/Tp-H0r3G0bI/AAAAAAAAArE/KS1bISMS7P4/s200/14441index.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665396195452178866" /></a>Well...asshole in the BMW apparently doesn't think like me. He thought I should dart across the road the moment it turned yellow. When he was in the midst of his angry honk...and the light was still yellow.<br /><br />OH HOHOHOHOHOH.... REALLY? He...fucked with the wrong Jetta.<br /><br />I did my freak out and said "OHHH - you just got your reason to honk asshole"<br />The dude made the turn with me...into the close lane. I watched his ass...moved into the farther lane. So did I. I wanted to fuck with him. So when the traffic on Western was going he was stuck behind me. Behind me as I went 15 MPH. Dude is going bananas. I am laughing my ass off and screaming "Oh! YOU HONKED MOTHER FUCKER, I'M GIVING YOU A REASON FOR THAT HONK!" Traffic is just cruising along while he is again honking and I am driving 10 -15 MPH and he is trapped behind me. <br /><br />Traffic clears and he gets in front of me and does what I was doing. WHAT? I am laughing...laughing. Throwing my head back in fits of laughter. IS this dude serious? I was the one going 10 MPH before, why would I care?<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iRqu13m3Mz4/Tp-IUylwnuI/AAAAAAAAArQ/nbRYt0KIuxU/s1600/130627080554.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 374px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iRqu13m3Mz4/Tp-IUylwnuI/AAAAAAAAArQ/nbRYt0KIuxU/s400/130627080554.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665396747014282978" /></a>THEN HE STOPPED. <br /><br />He stopped for all of one second but...thoughts in your brain race...<br /><br />CRAP...I had visions of this madman getting out of his car, pulling me through the window and beating me senseless. I knew the razor I use to get old city stickers off was in my glove compartment. God bless city stickers, I thought, the only reason I have a weapon of sorts in my car. <br /><br />But - he drove off and that was that. <br /><br />I wonder if he still honks like that. But - more...I wonder if he really thinks giving someone a taste of 'their own slow driving medicine' actually works....negative.<br /><br />Case #2:<br /><br />Newly laid off and in a not so fantastic mood, we had street cleaning. My car was parked on the side to be cleaned. So at around 7:15 AM I was up and went out to move my car. I was driving in circles around the one way hell that is my hood. I turned onto Sunnyside, the street I reside, from an alley. I got to the stop sign, noted no one was behind me. I know, I know, it is annoying when some one is creeping around in their car looking for spots. No one was behind me. About 2 seconds later...I am up the block and some bitch is laying on her horn. Laying on her horn in a residential neighborhood at 7:20 AM.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Yc-BlWJ2g9E/Tp-KHhQN9_I/AAAAAAAAAr0/5DNNrmkxmJc/s1600/333images.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 183px; height: 275px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Yc-BlWJ2g9E/Tp-KHhQN9_I/AAAAAAAAAr0/5DNNrmkxmJc/s320/333images.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665398718045485042" /></a><br />In general..I fancy myself the police in this hood. Noise late at night or too early...I call the police. I am outside and someone blows the stop sign in front of the park where children play? I scream at them they missed a stop sign. If I am out front and they don't make a stop that I believe is complete enough...I meander out into the road...pausing...slowly walking. I make them stop - I make them pay for that faux stop. I am 75, if not 90 years old at heart. I am a crazy, cranky old lady. I am proud.<br /><br />So, I was not happy that this bitch came barreling down the road AND was blowing her horn at an early hour. <br /><br />I had to let go of my passion for quiet mornings to teach her a lesson.<br /><br />I knew what she doing. She was using Sunnyside, my street - as an alternative to Montrose. NO. That is not what this street is. It is residential street with a park on it where children play. I will not have maniacs driving down it.<br /><br />SO....I get the honk. <br /><br />If it was a kind beep things would have been different. BUT it was an angry honk, she put some pressure and laid on it. Even then, had I NOT noted 2 seconds before that no one was there, I would have let it go. BUT - she was clearly in some kind of hurry as she was not on the street 2 seconds before.<br /><br />AND....my beast is released.<br /><br />I do my freak out that she honked then go. SHE HONKS AGAIN.<br /><br />OH - IT IS ON. IT IS ON.<br /><br />I stop. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_vzUD4zvlmE/Tp-JZz1VKLI/AAAAAAAAArc/S29xQB66QM4/s1600/2222images.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 256px; height: 192px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_vzUD4zvlmE/Tp-JZz1VKLI/AAAAAAAAArc/S29xQB66QM4/s320/2222images.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665397932759001266" /></a>She is laying on the horn. She stops. I go. She lays on it...I IMMEDIATELY STOP.<br /><br />There was absolutely NO classical conditioning with this woman. I was actually at one point yelling that she was dumber than Pavlov's dog. <br /><br />More importantly...I was SOOOO amused. I was JUST laid off.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-05gi-774yJs/Tp-J0i7tsXI/AAAAAAAAAro/RsmoqEfSO_U/s1600/232323images.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 259px; height: 194px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-05gi-774yJs/Tp-J0i7tsXI/AAAAAAAAAro/RsmoqEfSO_U/s320/232323images.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665398392078840178" /></a>I am looking at her in the rear view, windows open, screaming to her "LADY, I GOT NO JOB, VICTIM OF THE ECONOMY! I GOT NO WHERE TO BE, LAY ON THAT HORN, I'LL SIT HERE ALL FUCKING DAY...I GOT NO WHERE TO BE...I'LL PUT IT IN PARK, WANT TO SEE ME PUT THIS IN PARK??" <br /><br />Victim of the economy - this bitch was messing with a distraught, depressed, confused, overwhelmed victim of the economy. <br /><br />I held my ground. It was probably the most entertainment I had in 2 weeks. She got off the horn...I drove. She got on the horn...I stopped. It took about 10 minutes to get 1/16 of a mile. Again - I don't get what she didn't get. A dog, a fucking dog would have figured it out by then. <br /><br />So glad she has a job....her being a genius and all....<br /><br />I am fairly certain it was after that fiasco...I climbed the 3 flights of stairs, sat down and thought - that may have been slightly irrational. I needed to get my shit together. There would be no help. There would be no cheering squad. There would be no one helping me or telling me what to do. There wasn't a husband to give me health insurance. There was no roommate to split bills with. It was just me. I'd like to say I wasn't proud of that maniac in the car. But that would be a lie. I do like her. She doesn't take as much crap as pre-laid off Mere did, she speaks up more.Merehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03189710938406338151noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-474244303483095439.post-72424959233767146752011-08-09T16:26:00.027-05:002011-08-09T19:28:32.249-05:00The Demise of America...What is the demise? Is it the financial ruin we may face? The polarizing of our great nation over politics? Is it corn syrup?
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<br />The answers to the above are: NO. NO. and NO.
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<br />It is the TV programing of: The Bachelor, The Bachelorette, and The Bachelor Pad.
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<br />I have never been an avid viewer of this garbage.
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<br />That is a lie.
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<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gEl3aG-3BN8/TkHBYQkGdXI/AAAAAAAAAog/_uv_nUVsE_E/s1600/img028.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 168px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gEl3aG-3BN8/TkHBYQkGdXI/AAAAAAAAAog/_uv_nUVsE_E/s320/img028.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639000830951978354" /></a>I recall a certain group of hung over girls that chose to stay in their hotel room all day in New Orleans and watch an entire season of The Bachelor instead of facing the brutal heat, humidity, and raw sewage smell of the city.
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<br />Side note: New Orleans is a lovely and charming city, it is a city everyone should visit at least one. BUT DO NOT go there in August.
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<br />I have, on occasion, watched an episode to laugh at it and bolster my self esteem. I kept up with most of Jake's season. Mostly because that Jake is a complete tool and I was amazed that these women thought he was a catch. I assume all the bachelors are of this ... 'quality'.
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<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uXy61aiF7a0/TkHB3MxdHsI/AAAAAAAAAoo/8dSVHjtsUUQ/s1600/1111.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 168px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uXy61aiF7a0/TkHB3MxdHsI/AAAAAAAAAoo/8dSVHjtsUUQ/s320/1111.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639001362510192322" /></a>The other night I helped myself to some Bachelor Pad. I don't really understand the premise of this show and that really doesn't matter. It was so terrible, I had to flee from my friend's apartment so I wouldn't have to watch another second.
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<br />Don't get me wrong, there is a huge comedy aspect to this crap programming. But, this Bachelor Pad situation has taken a turn. A bad turn.
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<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wbPrQ0lQBO8/TkHCjSKWekI/AAAAAAAAAow/vI5YdWVKYio/s1600/1112.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 175px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wbPrQ0lQBO8/TkHCjSKWekI/AAAAAAAAAow/vI5YdWVKYio/s200/1112.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639002119871035970" /></a>You can only yell at a TV screen so much and tell someone they are out of their minds so much before it gets old. Then you just get filled with annoyance and anxiety which is not feelings anyone wants.
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<br />For instance: The part I saw is this Vienna moron getting worked up that Jake the Tool might join the group. How emotionally awful that would be. wa wa wa cry cry cry
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<br />I have a fucking crazy ass idea, VIENNA....if it is that horrifying, don't go on the TV show. YOU KNOW he might be on it. Why would you put yourself in a situation you claim to be so heart breaking?
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<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PoOD5HRN2aw/TkHCu5Nw0hI/AAAAAAAAAo4/6PztvgL3cnU/s1600/1113.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 232px; height: 218px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PoOD5HRN2aw/TkHCu5Nw0hI/AAAAAAAAAo4/6PztvgL3cnU/s320/1113.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639002319332889106" /></a>For instance - A horrifying situation for me is getting mauled by a lion. Hence - I do all in my power to refrain from jumping into the lion exhibit at the local zoo. Even if the lions are not currently in the outside area...I still don't jump in!
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<br />Side note: I actually have been in the lion exhibit at Lincoln Park Zoo...but I was in on business and personally witnessed the lions were secured.
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<br />In another situation...a woman said that she was attracted to this man because he used 'big words'. In the scene before that...the 'big word' he used was: dysfunctional.
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<br />OHHHHHHH to be simple and consider dysfunctional to be a big word. I pray to all the gods currently and previously worshiped on this earth, the producers cut something out to make her look a fool.
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<br />I get this is all about ratings and this is what people like to see. But, I will not subscribe to this tomfoolery! EVERYONE STOP WATCHING THIS HORSESHIT! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD - BRING BACK THE SITCOM!
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<br />Oh wait...what do I hear?
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<br />Perhaps you assume I am just some bitter, old, single lady. A bitter, old, single lady that doesn't believe in true love. True, manufactured love that only elaborate, cross-country casting calls, several cameras, and a prime time network TV slot can supply.
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<br />NO.
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<br />Perhaps you think I hate this programming so much because I am not the type of girl that could be on it so....I MUST be jealous.
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<br />NO.
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<br />1. Let's discuss these men and women together:
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<br />What are these jobs they have?
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<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xp-PrFJSic8/TkHEZN73YyI/AAAAAAAAApA/EklTst7M3oM/s1600/1114.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 260px; height: 194px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xp-PrFJSic8/TkHEZN73YyI/AAAAAAAAApA/EklTst7M3oM/s320/1114.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639004145961100066" /></a>Who has the ability to leave their job for several months to embark on an 'adventure of love'? This is sweet, sweet America. You are lucky if you get 3 weeks vacation in this country. The only way you get more than a month off and are guaranteed a job upon return is if a human being comes out of your vagina. I am not aware of the "I Am Pathetic And Need To Go On A Game Show To Find Love Act" that allows for this time.
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<br />Do they all have shit jobs?
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<br />When they say they are a 'marketing specialist' do they actually stock food at the grocery store and consider the arrangement of soup cans to be marketing?
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<br />Let's say they left a decent job for their 'journey of love'...have they seen the news? The world's economy isn't doing great. Do they expect to just jump into another job with 'The Bachelor/ette Pad' on their resume? What? Does that look good?
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<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0Cl6mXgXOc0/TkHEwtGlRQI/AAAAAAAAApI/TJg78IVQxLU/s1600/1116.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 201px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0Cl6mXgXOc0/TkHEwtGlRQI/AAAAAAAAApI/TJg78IVQxLU/s320/1116.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639004549464540418" /></a>This must be the same mentality people use when spending $50K on an M.B.A. from an on-line university.
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<br />Newsflash: Wasted a whole lotta money and time on something that makes you look foolish and will get you nothing. Contrary to the ads...you are NOT a phoenix rising from the ashes...you are a dirty park pigeon eating out of an ash tray.
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<br />Oh wait - it IS SO endearing and romantic how they gamble everything on this 'journey'...isn't it?! They have such FAITH IN LOVE!! WHAT!?! WHAT!?! NOOOO!
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<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LBARZ-ClEAI/TkHOeDPJ7YI/AAAAAAAAApw/xDy8S3b0wr0/s1600/1120.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LBARZ-ClEAI/TkHOeDPJ7YI/AAAAAAAAApw/xDy8S3b0wr0/s200/1120.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639015224104840578" /></a>Would it be adorable and touching if I my broke-ass drove my 2000 Jetta down to Vegas, hoisted the Jetta up on Red 5, and got all teary eyed and said into a camera "I just have so much faith in this process, I've never had luck here but I believe it it!!! I know that I'm gambling everything I have...but it will be worth it!"????
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<br />No. No. No. Dumb. You'd say I was an idiot.
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<br />2. Let's discuss the men:
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<br />I don't even want to be friends with or even remotely acquainted with a man that has toyed with the idea of being on this TV show.
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<br />It is gay to be a man on these programs. And by gay I mean both the controversial '80's/90's slang for lame and homosexual.
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<br />I can't imagine any dude I know wanting to appear of this program. I am cool. I have cool friends, not lame ones. Why would some lady want to be on this show? To meet lame dudes? I just don't get it. The dude selection is weak.
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<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3mJIPH-ritI/TkHFFnb9XVI/AAAAAAAAApQ/FaMr5sD_7z4/s1600/1117.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 237px; height: 213px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3mJIPH-ritI/TkHFFnb9XVI/AAAAAAAAApQ/FaMr5sD_7z4/s320/1117.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639004908720840018" /></a>If they aren't lame, they are homosexuals. Homos that just can't admit they are homos. They have gone to great lengths to appear on a lame hetero dating show in an attempt to prove to Nana that they are straight and deserving of an inheritance. This is the only explanation...it is 2011...everyone is cool with gays. If you aren't cool with the gays - you are far more lame than the jags on The Bachelore/ette/ Pad.
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<br />3. Finally, the women:
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<br />They are all beautiful and hot. They have the outgoing personality to appear on TV.
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<br />Beautiful, hot, outgoing.....that is the recipe for finding a husband.
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<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Bqa84Q3Oou8/TkHFkETVvSI/AAAAAAAAApY/oQ1HECd8Q2Q/s1600/1118.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 260px; height: 149px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Bqa84Q3Oou8/TkHFkETVvSI/AAAAAAAAApY/oQ1HECd8Q2Q/s320/1118.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639005431865392418" /></a>CLEARLY - these women are extremely and severely flawed in some manner that hides deep beneath the skin...a psychotic manner. THESE are the women that gave women the "crazy bitch' name. These are the women that guys go on a two dates with...dude doesn't call them again and before he knows it there is a rabbit boiling on his stove.
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<br />Again - only reasonable explanation.
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<br />OH...I hear it.....you are thinking one of two things:
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<br /> a. But Mere, you are so stunningly beautiful and single in your old age, are you a crazy bitch?
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<br />Answer: NO. I am a fattie. A 5'9" fattie. Never been thin. I have always had the chub. I go up and down in weight dramatically, but have never been at an attractive weight. The cocktail for crazy and single is "beautiful, hot, outgoing". Not hot...also not outgoing...review the recipe.
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<br /> b. You are just jealous of those beautiful, hot, outgoing girls!!!!!
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<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iojpGJWF-dA/TkHGBn_xr2I/AAAAAAAAApg/Xqvqzofcg_I/s1600/1119.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 247px; height: 204px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iojpGJWF-dA/TkHGBn_xr2I/AAAAAAAAApg/Xqvqzofcg_I/s320/1119.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639005939663220578" /></a>Answer: NO. If I was hot and outgoing in addition to my amazing looks, grade-A sense of humor, and far above average intelligence...I would rule the world. Frankly, I don't want that kind of responsibility. This is an excellent example of how God is fair - no one gets it all. More importantly, I wouldn't waste my time on some TV show of jags if I was hot.
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<br />So there it is.
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<br />I demand everyone stop watching this bullshit. At the very least...only watch it on occasion. No need to keep ratings high. It is madness.
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<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nOZuO1hAV5E/TkHGPADfutI/AAAAAAAAApo/lHPpBBkGrcs/s1600/1115.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 195px; height: 258px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nOZuO1hAV5E/TkHGPADfutI/AAAAAAAAApo/lHPpBBkGrcs/s320/1115.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639006169459571410" /></a>All I want in this world is America to be restored to the secure days during the Reagan administration...where TV programing was quality sitcoms about orphans and their golden retrievers residing legally with an old dude, where a midget black boy finds a home with a well-off white couple, where an ornery butler serves an average middle class family, or another average middle class family has a cat eating alien living with them.
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<br />These real America scenarios are far more realistic than a TV show about a bunch of a hot, attractive people who can't get a date.
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<br />Merehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03189710938406338151noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-474244303483095439.post-49195827051141880742011-08-03T19:40:00.008-05:002011-08-03T20:26:46.013-05:00Guarding....guarding....I have been recently seduced by radio ads for the National Guard. <br /><br />Maybe I should join the National Guard?!?! One weekend a month and 2 weeks per year. I can do that. I get a check and they pay for school. Sounds good! <br /><br />This is how you get lured in. They sell it as helping your community. <br /><br />Great! Super!<br /><br />Then...reality set it.<br /><br />#1 I am probably too old.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Qjgmuz1YQGY/Tjnw-R2-CTI/AAAAAAAAAoA/cVihWd7ovmw/s1600/sandbagimages.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 233px; height: 216px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Qjgmuz1YQGY/Tjnw-R2-CTI/AAAAAAAAAoA/cVihWd7ovmw/s320/sandbagimages.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636801361367402802" /></a>#2 I envision it as me throwing sandbags around when a random local river rises, beating down some unruly hippies at a Widespread Panic show, or maybe crowd controlling some drunk Croatians as an ethnic fest. This is probably not it.<br /><br />#3 I thought maybe it would be like some mandatory monthly workout that I got paid for. I'd run around in mud, do a jig through some tires, scale a wall made of wood. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WrHA8Dk2YsU/TjnwiBe0LDI/AAAAAAAAAn4/AqDZlvd5FRQ/s1600/ILguard.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 208px; height: 152px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WrHA8Dk2YsU/TjnwiBe0LDI/AAAAAAAAAn4/AqDZlvd5FRQ/s320/ILguard.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636800875934788658" /></a>It is more likely I will have to wear camouflage and stand at attention or some shit which...would make me feel silly and then I would laugh. <br /><br /><br />Then...then...can you imagine? It is all Full Metal Jacket and some dude is screaming in my face "two things come from Chicago, people that work at banks and skanks, you don't look much like a banker!"<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nAJ5Z4_SDV4/TjnzCDp6xcI/AAAAAAAAAoQ/a3NYJgtPvcM/s1600/FMJimages.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 170px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nAJ5Z4_SDV4/TjnzCDp6xcI/AAAAAAAAAoQ/a3NYJgtPvcM/s320/FMJimages.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636803625297298882" /></a>Then skank it is, sir!<br /><br />Some high ranking officer would be screaming at me to climb the wall and I'd start crying like in Officer and a Gentleman or whatever movie I am thinking of. <br /><br />Point is...I seriously considered this for about 12 hours - I went as far as to go on to the IL National Guard website. Which - by the way - SUCKS. <br /><br />I can only assume someone in a military uniform will be buzzing my door in the next week. They know. They know I was looking.<br /><br />Too bad I came to my senses. It's not all glorious sandbags and racially profiled crowd control.<br /><br />Most importantly....I can not be disciplined at this age. I just can't. I can't take it seriously.<br /><br />Maybe that is why there is an age limit on the military. My brain can not be properly washed, my soul not properly terrorized.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mmX-6puQY34/Tjn1DtMEyXI/AAAAAAAAAoY/SwjopulwSoM/s1600/Picture%2B1.png"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 237px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mmX-6puQY34/Tjn1DtMEyXI/AAAAAAAAAoY/SwjopulwSoM/s320/Picture%2B1.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636805852649539954" /></a>When I played rugby my coach was all over the forwards for being fat, lazy, and out of shape. My response: "Gary...you ever think maybe I don't want to be fit"<br /><br />Not a good idea. <br /><br />Hence...I would be discharged.Merehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03189710938406338151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-474244303483095439.post-65433741305579582802011-08-01T20:20:00.008-05:002011-08-01T20:57:55.833-05:00Naturally....NATURALLY - the blizzard of 2011 would be followed by the heat wave of 2011.<br /><br />I have 4 digits for you: 1995<br /><br />That winter we had negative 60 wind chill ... followed by the death summer of heat.<br /><br />No need to consult your Almanac...I am here. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-k1rAHdh0z5w/TjdW2MbEPYI/AAAAAAAAAnQ/LGyIZy474L0/s1600/summchicago.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 146px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-k1rAHdh0z5w/TjdW2MbEPYI/AAAAAAAAAnQ/LGyIZy474L0/s200/summchicago.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636068947725139330" /></a>I enjoy summers in Chicago. Ever since I moved back it has been mild. A couple stretches of 90 plus but for the most part a summer of 80 degrees. FANTASTIC! Beautiful! PERFECTION! <br /><br />I should have known this would not last. Now...I am bitter.<br /><br />That damn blizzard was the warning...from shit winters comes shit summers.<br /><br />I am a bitter, angry, sweaty bitch. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-K73tL8Y7o80/TjdXWhCyjoI/AAAAAAAAAnY/EjmJ2DsJK0o/s1600/puppmages.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 160px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-K73tL8Y7o80/TjdXWhCyjoI/AAAAAAAAAnY/EjmJ2DsJK0o/s320/puppmages.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636069503016275586" /></a>I would take the lives of numerous puppies to have The Snowtorious B.I.G. roll its 9 foot snow drifts of furry through this town right now. <br /><br />Show me a cute puppy...I'll snap its neck if you can guarantee me we can keep it at 85 degrees and below for the rest of summer.<br /><br />I don't kid. <br /><br />I'll snap the entire helpless litter's necks. That is how serious I am about hating this relentless heat. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6-B0VhgC1Fc/TjdYAYfEC8I/AAAAAAAAAng/aCyUldoHHk0/s1600/grandimages.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 206px; height: 244px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6-B0VhgC1Fc/TjdYAYfEC8I/AAAAAAAAAng/aCyUldoHHk0/s320/grandimages.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636070222273448898" /></a>Then....I'll kill your grandma. <br /><br />I'll smother her with a pillow. I'll smother everyone's grandmother with a pillow if it means this heat is done. It is win - win. I get an enjoyable temperature and you get your inheritance. EVERYBODY wins on my plan.<br /><br />I get it. We all don't agree on temperatures...The world don't move to the beat of just one drum. What might be right for you, may not be right for some. Diff'rent strokes to move the world and what not. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nAWT-A36ngo/TjdYs6UYSzI/AAAAAAAAAno/i_J0hcCf1bM/s1600/wellesimages.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 149px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nAWT-A36ngo/TjdYs6UYSzI/AAAAAAAAAno/i_J0hcCf1bM/s200/wellesimages.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636070987269688114" /></a>BUT - there is NOTHING tolerable about this weather. And let me tell you - the masses have spoken. Barely anyone is at the park: your casual book reader adult to your child in the playground to the old immigrants that drink wine and play bocce. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HDCQootb9zg/TjdZN6OwhrI/AAAAAAAAAnw/jhNiATp0PMQ/s1600/idogmages.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 274px; height: 184px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HDCQootb9zg/TjdZN6OwhrI/AAAAAAAAAnw/jhNiATp0PMQ/s320/idogmages.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636071554181793458" /></a>Most everyone is just looking out the window, "Oh look, it is sunny, it looks nice." They paw helplessly at the window like some kind of abused and forgotten shelter animal, awaiting its day of execution. They give a heavy sigh and walk away from the window, knowing it is not safe out there. No. It is not safe. <br /><br />It is sad. This summer blows.Merehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03189710938406338151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-474244303483095439.post-80355106343116006262011-07-31T01:42:00.002-05:002011-07-31T01:58:18.650-05:00The RicksterRicky Gervais is by far one of the funniest people on planet earth.<br />He is a genius. <br />You like the US Office? That has nothing on his is humor. He kills.<br /><br />I remember in AZ years ago my friend Charlie, urging me to listen to him and this fellow, Karl. Back in those olden days we didn't have the podcast and such.<br /><br />If you enjoy a laugh......<br /><br />This was the latest I got that killed me. <br /><br />"A barefoot dwarf, around town. Which in some countries is evil"<br /><br />How does one NOT throw their head back and laugh in hysterics? <br /><br />Go to:<br /><br />http://youtu.be/R2WdFgp6S3wMerehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03189710938406338151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-474244303483095439.post-72645618227794320852011-07-05T23:21:00.003-05:002011-07-05T23:59:15.362-05:00The Adventure of Ms. Tippee Canoe Part 2I hate seagulls.<br /><br />Sometimes they gather in mass quantities in the park across from my house and it sounds like a million children being tortured.<br /><br />I was at the beach once and I thought someone threw a turkey sandwich at me. I became irate...wondering who threw it and where the sandwich vanished to. Then I realized...a seagull crapped on me. <br /><br />Here is a gull:<br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzLBkDsixA1kBE2HOKrFuz41SMGI4QriN3T-CQA4HmBzXFTR94LGYeAGWvmsXVFl5D1T-D8IyfwiwvRKJHE9Q' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br />Upon the Chicago River there is much diversity. One case is the diversity of the white duck. Some white ducks are normal...others are part of the Tea Party and enjoy sporting some kind of wig and toting a musket. You can't see the musket....but it was there.<br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyezNMVbiH_AQuwNbvVFuLsVSAO3qg3AnbJqKkoqFUCfi3CRl-6mNdEZJBnkFUKHS6QuZ6hASkWpsQ9NdabLw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br />I have an idea. Get yourself a pontoon boat, charge $30 per head for a haunted voyage on the Chicago River. Make up a bunch of crap and then sail past here. It is disturbing. The echoing sounds of the hounds of hell. It sounds like approximately 82 dogs trapped in a dungeon of some sort. DO NOT leave your dog at "Stay" in NorthCenter...or your dog will be part of this horrifying chorus. <br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzT4U9ZbNMt5VBRppP8WFYO7wIHHecoFEFLdxEy77oAZqarNrUbpIlucycHx1W9Y0uOMHOxeGg1-7x4Ph6ZLQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br />I don't care for people that walk across sidewalks, blocking people like me. The people that walk at a fast pace. I certainly don't care for those that kayak across an entire river...thinking two fools would be able to navigate between them...<br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzRP5xamJcRgvWKRwepLd7FDVPQayXGepFhYFttxq96cGTDezrQQK4bLbd3DEtOR95mU1P1xizCwuUJu72Q' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br />I enjoy telling people I use "the power of prayer" for nearly anything that seems inevitable without taking the proper precautions. For instance: last night the pilot light in my oven was out. I had smelled gas for over a week and kept turning on the burners...they work....must be fine. I never experienced a pilot light out in the oven. So, being an absurdly independent woman that likes to solve all problems by herself...IMMEDIATELY....I stuck my head in the oven and with a tiny match just started dicking around. The whole time...I knew this WAS NOT a good idea. <br /><br />I relied on the power of prayer to keep me safe.<br /><br />I did not rely on the power of prayer. It is just something I say when I act a fool.<br /><br />I said this to some fellow river people. Amber was embarrassed. But then...like the beacon of truth..the steeple of a church emerged in the distance. Power of prayer ... indeed. <br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dw0DlIFrZSy6NQDs4nMLYFNyBu09hKOPRwb1N5EOanmqLFVvAqtcJ9nvWCv71HHWiGQH1UjjD8A0DyJLvV7rA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br />That's it. Amber and I will have more adventures one the river. I need a better shot of the spacious closet.Merehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03189710938406338151noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-474244303483095439.post-36144289337219428632011-07-03T19:34:00.005-05:002011-07-04T07:25:46.126-05:00The Adventures of Ms. Tippee CanoeEver since I relocated myself to Chicago, I have been wanting to row on the river. AND....suddenly it is October and the option is no longer available....next year....next year, I tell myself. Like every good Cub fan says: Next year...<br /><br />Well - it finally happened! And luckily I am still in possession of the flip cam. Petro family: you may have to pry it out of my cold dead hands. I realize you have your children's milestones to record...but I have canoe voyages on a river and drunken escapades to record....<br /><br />Now if you keep up with my life you know I was put at the helm of a sailboat last year after I had a few drinks. Not pretty. Well...turns out: I just plain suck at steering a water vessel. Although at the end of the two hour trip I was awesome.<br /><br />This was the first video. As you can tell from the melee of the first few moments...it is not wise for someone that has never operated a canoe to attempt to use a video recording device while operating said canoe.<br /><br /> <iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dx7vCHipecaxNkcEanHDLr4qA1W0r4Z7o1cEQDPnxnHSL_E5hedt6mp3oLx48ZYBZGWVcUJequNweZcwZZ7Qw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br />It is like Deliverance out on the river. Just waiting for a banjo playing inbred mutant child and some toothless hillbilly that wants to make you squeal like a pig to pop out at any moment. I'm not sure that was the right tune I was doing...anyway - my canoe partner, Amber doesn't know that difference between a horsefly and a dragonfly. She continued to refer to them as horseflies throughout the voyage although I let her know they were dragonflies. I let it go. No big deal. But...I need something to write about in this blog. <br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxeABluhXgXNJovxAN5Oz7cwYSNiFEfV9N6BV3ZEJl9dso8aZ9mLrsiqhUEMW0ZNqYZpMD96GNSY_ocNzOBtQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br />We had several crashes into the banks of the mighty Chicago River. Naturally, I was quick with the video and quick to save us. I had it all under control. The screaming was when we were tipping....never tipped over!!!<br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwW9YqQ3HdRd0DlKV66jKrSACXE4y7I-15cc8cXhCCE-v00cdFsqfM6Q_-bCJcMB463S7srk2WVsSsPhhSmaQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br />Eventually we probably pissed off some dude on his boat. Again...we had no control of the canoe. Luckily when moving out of his way we happened upon some white ducks. The Mallard is so pedestrian...I know you want to see the white ducks. And you are all racist so if ain't white...<br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyXrdCoL8Cxf7YzPoNWDEpPfY4F9CkW3wFXyJ7A0HV5uAz1tB6IZRD2szbDv9s1sfejPQF8iIHinumXEpHGpA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br />Even the poorest folk in Chicago can enjoy the luxuries of waterfront living. Here we see someone's nest. It is possible you can not tell but they had an extremely spacious closet and their walls were decorated with priceless art by perhaps The Latin Kings or another well known 'art' group of the area. <br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dy0OO_gB1V-j8K-M_Jjw6oFG4gEk4ghrmUjJdTed9WrKzi6N0sonOoViisKrkp80eTPijYRsnlIwXY5ywNbMA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br />Then we came upon a small stretch of the Chicago River that is known as the Ft. Lauderdale of the Chicago River. * Note: I realize it is "Rollin" and not "Rowin" ... but I was rowing so...it was done.<br /><br /> <iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwmPz0HxII49ZlI5SgtQv0-2yWvpsP-tMOyFeUDFgk_2Py_xlBbSGuY-yfEudZpx6WM1KD9RXDENjOtjlvUgA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br />We eventually we able to take in the beauty of nature and the absolute disgust of the river. The Chicago River is wilderness and the thrills of urban pollution married into one delightful yet horrifying package. On camera you will her Amber coining the phrase "Wurban". The Chicago river is Wuburn.<br /><br />We ran across some kayakers and the gentleman rolled over. Not safe...NOT SAFE. Not because of the threat of drowning but more the threat of bacteria. His female companion tried to circle back and collect his lost water bottle as not to pollute. She had a hard time and I proclaimed "When in Rome, do as the Romans do". There is already so much garbage in that shit river it need not matter. OF course because I am a self-loving ego-maniac constantly looking to amuse and delight people...I again used the Roman thing when we landed our vessel when speaking of some gum wrappers. <br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dz8XPnb3hOkFyhJbx1jqx33jDTBGKeBhb6tTsbg4HPQPQFudGazW_j0TqVvzLZhLFoYXool3ah_6qTG-eYCZw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br />That's it. I can't handle anymore....it ends at Wurban....Merehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03189710938406338151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-474244303483095439.post-57105419735573711092011-04-13T21:32:00.010-05:002011-04-14T01:00:38.501-05:00Walking, Sweating, Awesomeness...There are 3 events I would win an Olympic Gold in if they were actual events:<br /><br />1. Speed Walking<br />2. Sweating<br />3. Procrastination With Success<br /><br />The Speed Walking: <br /><br />It is odd, to say the least. I am not fucking around when I say I can speed walk faster than I can run. In my hay day I could walk faster than most could run. I've got people that can sign an affidavit on this. It is NOT normal. But...it is my skill. Clearly - I am a chub factory so it's not like I can run fast...but still. My speed walking is amazing. Wait - is this an Olympic sport? I hope for humanity it is not.<br /><br />The Sweating:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rD5oOwqxeKM/TaZ4sBVJ_rI/AAAAAAAAAmU/khCx7NJujqA/s1600/merc.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 254px; height: 198px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rD5oOwqxeKM/TaZ4sBVJ_rI/AAAAAAAAAmU/khCx7NJujqA/s320/merc.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595292284721168050" /></a>Nothing to say here. Nothing to be proud of. I dislike those that don't sweat. I sweat opening up my mailbox. I refer to it as my highly evolved cooling system. I WILL NEVER....NEVER OVERHEAT...unless I find myself on Mercury. But even then - I'd like that challenge, call NASA. <br /><br />There is a photo of the our solar system here. In the event...you should not know the order of the planets...and be put down like an old tired dog. (I know a 4 year old that can accurately name 5 of the planets...kill yourself if you can't) I'm just sayin'<br /><br />The Procrastination With Success:<br /><br />Yes, I know....everyone procrastinates. It is a disease that is taking over the human race. There are those that make excuses for their procras-disease, they say things like "I work well under pressure". I've been told by professionals that I need to think this about myself and stop being so hard on myself about my addiction to procrastination. <br /><br />BUT - that is lame. There is a difference between 'working well under pressure' and 'being a lazy fool that likes to leave everything till the last minute'. <br /><br />I am a both...more the later when it comes to normal life situations.<br /><br />Working well under pressure?<br /><br />What does that even mean? I don't know. <br /><br />But I will tell you this: If you are in some type of emergency: you want me there. Although I am known for being a complete maniac, I can keep it together when the time comes and I have an AMAZING ability to bring up all things I've learned, been told, or trained to do:<br /><br />Case 1:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-L8mFRo9YBv8/TaZ70bZXdWI/AAAAAAAAAmc/_wf-h50wW5E/s1600/fed.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 263px; height: 192px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-L8mFRo9YBv8/TaZ70bZXdWI/AAAAAAAAAmc/_wf-h50wW5E/s320/fed.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595295727691986274" /></a>My friends and I were in Mexico in the middle of no where and then again leaving a vacation spot and we were stopped by the Mexican Federales...who conveniently don't speak English (BULLSHIT). Please - get stopped in the middle of Baja California when you haven't seen another car in an hour and 4 Federales pull you over and saunter up to your car with GIANT whips, automatic rifles, and a Mexican smirk...Mexican prison here we come: SUDDENLY I CAN SPEAK some wicked awesome SPANISH. Ask me in any other occasion, all I can say is "Where is the bus", "It is not hear" "My name is Meredyth"......and that is it. <br /><br />Case 2: <br />My friends and I wanted to play a joke on another friend and we spotted a toilet in an alley. I picked it up, by myself and was carrying it around. <br /><br />On a funny side note: we were at a party later that evening and some guys= said "I saw the craziest thing earlier, this girl was carrying around a toilet like it was nothing" and I said "oh yeah....that was me"<br /><br />It took two people and a struggle to remove said toilet from its joke spot: SUPER HUMAN STRENGTH. On a normal day, ask me to open a jar of spaghetti sauce and I am worthless. <br /><br />Case 3:<br />I was driving down a long flat road with construction. It was raining. I was going about 50 - 60 and my tire went off the road. I turned my wheel slightly but it slippery. This caused my car to spin. <br /><br />Have you ever had your steering wheel spin under your hands while the world spins by? Not comforting...that is pretty much what the moments before death look like.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RrgNr5bC-8o/TaZ8eKEpyWI/AAAAAAAAAmk/r0IpNFInuPU/s1600/mitz.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 308px; height: 164px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RrgNr5bC-8o/TaZ8eKEpyWI/AAAAAAAAAmk/r0IpNFInuPU/s320/mitz.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595296444596210018" /></a>It spun 450 degrees and I grabbed the steering wheel. Now I was going down the road side ways, my passenger window being my view of what is coming. That being a car coming in the opposite direction. Luckily WAAAY down the road because the fool decided it would be a good idea to proceed down a two lane road (one in each direction) when a car is spinning. FOOL.<br /><br />This is all in slow motion, as is in these situations. The moment I caught the wheel and was skidding down the road, I let go and the wheel started spinning the other way. That is when the lessons of Driver's Ed kicked in. Never did I over correct. I just let my Mitsubishi Eclipse slide down that road, each time catching the wheel a little sooner to let it spin the other way. Eventually...I was driving straight down Power Road. I thought: I could have died or wrecked Mitzi. Died because that retard never did pull over or stop...or wrecked because I would have ended up in a cow. Back in the mid-late-90's, Power Road was nothing but agriculture and livestock: AMAZING DRIVER that recalls the lessons of driving and doesn't freak the fuck out, my heart didn't skip a beat. I was was just pissed at that driver coming my way. <br /><br />Case 4:<br />I was tending to two lovely boys and went to change the younger one's diaper. The older one followed me in. While I was wiping ass, the older one, who was 2 years, tapped me on the leg and was pointing at his mouth which was open. To this day I am not sure if he was just showing me all the cheese in his mouth or if he was choking.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EMi43b_-9Qc/TaZ8yIp0psI/AAAAAAAAAms/6950NYF3uiI/s1600/che.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 232px; height: 217px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EMi43b_-9Qc/TaZ8yIp0psI/AAAAAAAAAms/6950NYF3uiI/s320/che.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595296787812624066" /></a>I decided it was a choke. I yelled in his face: "OH MY GOD, ARE YOU CHOKING?", I tossed the baby in the crib, grabbed the boy and flipped him upside down and hit him on the back until a sufficient amount of cheese was on the ground. I flipped him back over and asked if he was ok. He was. This is where I wasn't cool. I started crying and demanded he hug me and said "were you choking? I thought you were choking." He just looked at me like I was insane: I SAVE THE LIVES OF CHILDREN. <br /><br />My friend tried to tell me my cheese dislodge method was inaccurate. But you see...being a master of emergency, I recalled that if you can lift up a person, you hang up them upside down to dislodge and I had elementary physics making sense for me: You work gravity when you can. I later confirmed with a Chicago Fire Department Paramedic that what I did was correct. Let it be known should you see a child or midget choking...or in my case, any reasonably sized adult: you flip over and beat. I got that super human emergency strength. I will flip anyone in my reading audience over and beat on your back before I start doing that laughable Heimlich Maneuver. <br /><br />That summarizes my ability to 'work well under pressure'. Let's not talk about my ability to cram for tests and write amazing paper in a matter of hours. So boring. The point is: I am amazing.<br /><br />But more importantly...you want me around in a true emergency...<br /><br />Let's say...you are an airplane, a flight from ORD to DEN..it is hijacked by Somalian Pirates.... it could happen.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1xnCajsLU6c/TaZ9S0fgqmI/AAAAAAAAAm0/i2n-QpBTb80/s1600/hijx.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 276px; height: 183px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1xnCajsLU6c/TaZ9S0fgqmI/AAAAAAAAAm0/i2n-QpBTb80/s320/hijx.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595297349336345186" /></a>They've killed the pilots. That enormous metal beverage cart has trapped you on the ground. Your baby is choking on a pretzel. <br /><br />Who do you want around? Me.<br /><br />First...I quickly dislodge the pretzel so your baby can take in air.<br /><br />Next...I start fighting the Somalians that are surveying the cabin. I've seen the Bourne series so naturally...I know how it is done. In the midst of this I use my pinkie to lift the beverage cart up so you can go back to your seat crying. You are weak and can not fight the good fight like me. I sneer at you and continue to kick ass.<br /><br />I zip tie the pirates' hands behind their backs - they are unconscious but - have you seen movies? Bad dudes always wake up at inopportune times. And, I always have zip ties with me. You never know if your bumper is about to fall off or a criminal needs to be apprehended. <br /><br />Then...I bust down the door to the cock pit. I am screaming things in....Somalian...or whatever is they speak. I am kung-fu-ing and what not. I am again zip tying...all while applying pressure to wounds and CPR-ing the plane-fliers. <br /><br />I get on the controls of the plane and I am taken back to that year of ground school and air traffic control I am reading instruments and saying 'niner' and 'zulu'...YES - NINER and ZULU - that is how you KNOW - someone can fly an aeroplane. Niner....Zulu...Do they even do that??? The niner...I think so. Nine...Five...<br /><br />Anyway - <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tzbf4KFvr9M/TaZ_dsgHDVI/AAAAAAAAAnE/V1JvbG8HcPw/s1600/b20.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 226px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tzbf4KFvr9M/TaZ_dsgHDVI/AAAAAAAAAnE/V1JvbG8HcPw/s320/b20.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595299735193193810" /></a>I land the airplane....but for some reason you fell out and are trapped under a wheel so I slide out the cock pit window and lift up the airplane to release you.<br /><br />Then I wipe off my brow and say "all in a day's work" and walk off dramatically...hopefully not to be run over by a belt loader. <br /><br />I love belt loaders.....<br /><br />This is the service I provide. I ask nothing in return. However - I could have written up 2 labs in the time it took me to write this garbage. But hey - those labs will get done in time...in sweet, sweet time...Merehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03189710938406338151noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-474244303483095439.post-51597482133486431032011-02-13T19:55:00.006-06:002011-02-13T23:15:25.177-06:00Meredyth Answers Ask Amy....I decided that since I have nothing of importance going on in my life I would answer 'Ask Amy' questions. This is some type advice column featured in the Chicago Tribune.<br /><br />Dear Amy: Once a year I host a family reunion for my five children, spouses and grandchildren.<br /><br />I pay for all, including travel.<br /><br />One of my daughters remarried last year and her spouse has a teenage daughter who is not a member of their household (except for every other weekend).<br /><br />They have indicated that they would like to bring the daughter to the family reunion.<br /><br />I have no problem with her coming, but my question is — should I be expected to pay for the expenses of her coming?<br /><br />This is a cross-country trip, adding a total cost of about $1,500.<br /><br />They have not offered to pay for her, and I wonder what you think about this?<br /><br />— Generous Dad<br /><br />Dear Generous Dad:<br /><br />You are a fucking asshole for even asking this question. <br /><br />This girl is now part of your family. Deal with it. Sadly, this girl has probably had a bit rougher of a life than your other grandchildren. Why on earth would you make her feel like more of a burden? <br /><br />When my grandfather died the number of great grandchildren listed in his obituary included a great grandchild by marriage. That is how it works. <br /><br />I assume you are of Greek descent? That's right, I am generalizing. I like to sharpen my generalizing skills. Let me know if you aren't Greek, I have 2 other guesses after that. <br /><br />-Meredyth<br /><br />Dear Amy: As a parent of three young children, I try to teach them manners in public, such as taking only one treat or toy when offered, not destroying the displays at checkout counters and not running in stores.<br /><br />At the same time I am busy insisting that my kids behave well, when they misbehave the store employees (and even other customers) frequently will smile at my kids and say directly to them, "That's OK,", "No problem — he's young,", "It's OK; I'll clean this up."<br /><br />This makes me crazy!<br /><br />Real accidents sometimes do happen, but most of this behavior is not OK!<br /><br />This response ultimately confuses my child about what is acceptable and what is not, which makes my job as a parent harder.<br /><br />Sometimes other parents undermine me in this way too.<br /><br />I am not an overly strict controlling mean or nasty parent!<br /><br />I just believe that basic behavior rules are learned more easily when kids are young.<br /><br />The oldest child is already considered one of the better behaved kids in her class.<br /><br />What can I say or do when this happens without making a big fuss?<br /><br />I know they all mean well. I would appreciate it if you would alert other about this.<br /><br />— Frustrated Mom<br /><br />Dear Frustrated Mom:<br /><br />Are you serious? You want other people to disciple your children? That is not their job. Members of society generally don't want to make a huge scene where it is unnecessary. These store clerks and parents are simply being polite. <br /><br />Would you rather we lived in some kind of insane barbaric society in which we screamed at each other when others were not acting the way we wanted? Ironically...that would be a society filled with people acting like children. <br /><br />-Meredyth<br /> <br />Dear Amy: I am concerned about my mother. About one year ago she lost her job.<br /><br />Since then she has become more and more introverted. She sleeps quite a bit during the day and very little at night.<br /><br />She makes excuses not to leave her house. She doesn't see her family or friends. She is overweight and has a few health issues but nothing that would stop her from leaving home.<br /><br />When she was approached by a family friend about applying for a job that she is qualified to do, she made excuses that simply weren't logical.<br /><br />We are very concerned but are out of ideas about how to help her.<br /><br />What can we do?<br /><br />— Freaked Out Family<br /><br />Dear Freaked Out Family:<br /><br />If I had children....I'd assume this was written about me. <br /><br />Do you really need to seek advice on this? The woman is DEPRESSED. Which is very typical when you lose your job. Do you really have no idea that this is textbook depression? You could have contacted a local high school student taking psychology to diagnose this. She needs to see a therapist and perhaps get on some Prozac. You know the lady...everyone is different...figure out how to urge this and stop wasting precious time writing advice columns. <br /><br />God Bless your mother. <br /><br />-MeredythMerehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03189710938406338151noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-474244303483095439.post-66756499337923445842011-02-02T00:42:00.002-06:002011-02-02T00:47:50.571-06:00G-DayIt is officially groundhog day.<br /><br />I'd say Groundhog's Day or Groundhogs Day .... but I'm not sure what is correct.<br /><br />Why is my life ruled by appeasing those that know how to properly address an overgrown rodent that according to lore controls the seasons?<br /><br />It is all nonsense. Poppycock. Bullocks. As is this blizzard.<br /><br />I am done. The lack of dead bodies is super disappointing. I have all my limbs....<br /><br />I'll never be on "I survived"Merehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03189710938406338151noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-474244303483095439.post-62893475022645871232011-02-01T23:47:00.002-06:002011-02-01T23:50:11.584-06:00Nearing the end of 2/1/2011STILL....waiting for dead bodies in the streets.<br /><br />I did hear a portion of Wrigley was ripped off.<br /><br />It is unconfirmed.....as you all know....I was in there during a tornado and lived to tell the tale.Merehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03189710938406338151noreply@blogger.com0