I love my wife much more than I have words for.
But I don't go around putting words in her mouth.
She's one of my very favorite conversational subjects.
I try to talk about her as much as I can, because she makes me feel good.
But it's never in relation to anyone else.
Like I would never say, "My wife loves cheesecake, so you should eat it."
Well, I might say that, but only to make people laugh at how ridiculous that sentence is.
So what makes people think they can walk into our home-- into our in-home studio-- where our students are, and say to the other students there, "Jesus wants you to share"?
I wanna know who knows Jesus well enough to be able to put those words into his mouth.
Cuz I'm pretty sure Jesus was dead long before this lady was born. Cuz, and I'm just guessing here, that Jesus was born around the time of the Big Changeover-- you know, from BC to AD. And I'm not a biblical scholar or nothin', but I'm pretty sure the Golden Rule was "Love one another as you would yourself," not "Share, or else!"
I'm super tired of Jesus-freaks pushing their beliefs on others. I'm sick of people feeling empowered to shower others with their mythology and judgement. The next time somebody tells me that Jesus would want something, I'm going to kick them in the ovaries as hard as I possibly can. And after the ringing in their ears subsides, I'm going to tell them that I kicked them because Jesus said to stop speaking for him. And that Romans 5:18 says, "Ye, for those who soever says words in the name of Jesu shall be smacked in the lady parts with a hurtful and severe kick." And they won't know if I'm telling the truth or not, because Jesus freaks haven't really read the Bible. They're too busy judging to actually find out what it says.
At least, that's what my wife tells me. She also tells me that the correct name for lady parts is "Nuni".
Monday, July 25, 2011
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Nose Wants
This might be psychosomatic, but I just smelled delicious, ice-cold beer.
I want that right now.
I want that right now.
Hey, Guy
Hey, Guy
I sed Hey, Guy
What if I sang you a song?
What if I sang you a dup-dup-duppity-dup-dup-ah-dupah?
Dup-dup-duppity-dup-dup-ah-dupah!
Duppity-dup-dup-ah
Duppity-dup-dup-ah
Duppity-dup-dup-ah-dupah!
I sed Hey, Guy.
I sed You, Guy!
What if I sang you a song?
What if I sang you a lah----- lah-dee-lah-dee-dah
Lah-dee-lah-lah
Lah-dee-lah-lah
Lah-dee-lah-lah-doh!
I sed Hey, Guy.
You know who, Guy!
What if I sang you a song?
What if I sang you a go-guh-luh-go-guh-luh-go-guh-luh-go-guh-luh!
Hey!
Guy!
What if I sang you a song?
I sed Hey, Guy
What if I sang you a song?
What if I sang you a dup-dup-duppity-dup-dup-ah-dupah?
Dup-dup-duppity-dup-dup-ah-dupah!
Duppity-dup-dup-ah
Duppity-dup-dup-ah
Duppity-dup-dup-ah-dupah!
I sed Hey, Guy.
I sed You, Guy!
What if I sang you a song?
What if I sang you a lah----- lah-dee-lah-dee-dah
Lah-dee-lah-lah
Lah-dee-lah-lah
Lah-dee-lah-lah-doh!
I sed Hey, Guy.
You know who, Guy!
What if I sang you a song?
What if I sang you a go-guh-luh-go-guh-luh-go-guh-luh-go-guh-luh!
Hey!
Guy!
What if I sang you a song?
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Work Meeting
My work had a half-day meeting today. They served us breakfast. They served us lunch. And in between those, they talked to us about how to be more effective in our jobs.
Personally, I hate meetings like that. They seem really, REALLY unproductive to me. I come from a world where you play your music or do your scene, and the audience claps or doesn't. The audience laughs or doesn't. And if you don't get a response, you know you need to work harder. If you don't write enough for a show, you don't have a show.
This world isn't like my previous world. There are people who make goals for you and then you have to meet them. They don't always tell you how to achieve those goals except to say that you're failing to meet them. And the job you're doing isn't always clear.
So we have these meetings in the hopes of nailing these unknowns down so that we can all... do our jobs? Really? We're all employed. We all have a job. And now, we have to get together to figure out how to do it better. Doesn't make a lot of sense to me.
So my work hires this woman to come in and do "fun" stuff before we talk about work. And the first fun thing she does is gather us all around a table. There are 36 of us there, standing around one table. And she tells us to number off to 18, and then start again from 1, so that there are only two people in the group who have the same number. These two people are now partners on opposite sides of the table from each other. She tells us that our objective is to change places with our partner as quickly as possible. Then she tells us there are only two rules for this exercise: 1. you must touch the table before you change places, and 2. you need to change places with your partner. So we all talk about it a little, and decide that we're going to move in a clockwise motion around the table until we get to where our partner used to be. If we all move in unison, then we should approximate where our partner was standing and we'll accomplish our goal. So we do that. And Team Woman tells us that we did this in 45 seconds. Then she says that the fastest it's ever been done is 4 seconds, and it was done with a group larger than ours. So how can we make this happen, she asks us.
And immediately I blurt out the answer.
And all my co-workers look at me like a caveman who just saw a blender. And I realized that they didn't get it. They didn't understand this thing that, to me, was really, really obvious. So I explained it, and they started to get it, and we all adjusted, and we started... and accomplished the task in 2 seconds. And Team Woman said that this was the most efficient way to accomplish this task and she said that this was the fastest that she had ever seen a group come up with that answer.
After that, and for the rest of the meeting, my co-workers were patting me on the back, telling me how smart I was. Telling me that they were proud to know me. One woman hugged me and said, "I was hired at the same time he was!" Another guy I had never met before told me that he was going to take me out to lunch next week. "I'll take you out for catfish next week because you're smart and I want to be with smart people."
It was nice to have that kind of praise.
It was awkward to have that kind of praise.
It was lonely to have that kind of praise.
It was nice to have that kind of praise.
I don't want to stand out in that way with this group again.
I felt very much out of place.
I felt like I was cheating.
Yes, I'm able to do this thing. But you all are capable of doing the actual work that we're supposed to do which I guess at every day and feel like I'm just stumbling through without a clue.
I miss acting. I miss singing. I miss improvising.
I miss entertaining.
I miss doing something that I understand.
I miss being around people that I understand.
I miss being part of a group that I get, and they get me.
Even with my band, I knew that there were two other guys that got me.
Even if the entire audience didn't get me, they did.
Just two guys. And some days, that was enough.
Although, to be honest, the audience always got me, too.
I was pretty good at that kind of stuff.
Personally, I hate meetings like that. They seem really, REALLY unproductive to me. I come from a world where you play your music or do your scene, and the audience claps or doesn't. The audience laughs or doesn't. And if you don't get a response, you know you need to work harder. If you don't write enough for a show, you don't have a show.
This world isn't like my previous world. There are people who make goals for you and then you have to meet them. They don't always tell you how to achieve those goals except to say that you're failing to meet them. And the job you're doing isn't always clear.
So we have these meetings in the hopes of nailing these unknowns down so that we can all... do our jobs? Really? We're all employed. We all have a job. And now, we have to get together to figure out how to do it better. Doesn't make a lot of sense to me.
So my work hires this woman to come in and do "fun" stuff before we talk about work. And the first fun thing she does is gather us all around a table. There are 36 of us there, standing around one table. And she tells us to number off to 18, and then start again from 1, so that there are only two people in the group who have the same number. These two people are now partners on opposite sides of the table from each other. She tells us that our objective is to change places with our partner as quickly as possible. Then she tells us there are only two rules for this exercise: 1. you must touch the table before you change places, and 2. you need to change places with your partner. So we all talk about it a little, and decide that we're going to move in a clockwise motion around the table until we get to where our partner used to be. If we all move in unison, then we should approximate where our partner was standing and we'll accomplish our goal. So we do that. And Team Woman tells us that we did this in 45 seconds. Then she says that the fastest it's ever been done is 4 seconds, and it was done with a group larger than ours. So how can we make this happen, she asks us.
And immediately I blurt out the answer.
And all my co-workers look at me like a caveman who just saw a blender. And I realized that they didn't get it. They didn't understand this thing that, to me, was really, really obvious. So I explained it, and they started to get it, and we all adjusted, and we started... and accomplished the task in 2 seconds. And Team Woman said that this was the most efficient way to accomplish this task and she said that this was the fastest that she had ever seen a group come up with that answer.
After that, and for the rest of the meeting, my co-workers were patting me on the back, telling me how smart I was. Telling me that they were proud to know me. One woman hugged me and said, "I was hired at the same time he was!" Another guy I had never met before told me that he was going to take me out to lunch next week. "I'll take you out for catfish next week because you're smart and I want to be with smart people."
It was nice to have that kind of praise.
It was awkward to have that kind of praise.
It was lonely to have that kind of praise.
It was nice to have that kind of praise.
I don't want to stand out in that way with this group again.
I felt very much out of place.
I felt like I was cheating.
Yes, I'm able to do this thing. But you all are capable of doing the actual work that we're supposed to do which I guess at every day and feel like I'm just stumbling through without a clue.
I miss acting. I miss singing. I miss improvising.
I miss entertaining.
I miss doing something that I understand.
I miss being around people that I understand.
I miss being part of a group that I get, and they get me.
Even with my band, I knew that there were two other guys that got me.
Even if the entire audience didn't get me, they did.
Just two guys. And some days, that was enough.
Although, to be honest, the audience always got me, too.
I was pretty good at that kind of stuff.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Sour Cream
Sour cream doesn't really keep if you don't refrigerate it.
That pisses me off, because I don't like to refrigerate my Taco Bell, because if you leave it out, it retains it's fresh flavor. If you refrigerate it, it tastes like leftovers. Fresh tastes better to me than leftovers.
However, when you bite into your taco and get a mouthful of sour cream that is more sour than normal and... wait for it... yup, there's a distinct flavor of spoilage... that's worse than leftovers.
It was like they heated a goat, then milked it to get hot milk for producing the sour cream, then allowed the goat to die from exposure to heat, then scrapped the inside of it's udder and put that flavor into the sour cream. It's not something I want to duplicate. And yet, I might have to regurgitate it later today. That would really suck if I had to throw up at work. I hate throwing up. I really hate throwing up away from home. I really, really hate throwing up away from home because I'm stupid enough to leave a taco out overnight, maybe over two nights, and then double stupid for tasting the Hot Dead Goat in the taco AND TAKING A SECOND BITE TO MAKE SURE IT WAS REALLY HOT DEAD GOAT!!
Sometimes, it's amazing to me that I'm alive at all.
That pisses me off, because I don't like to refrigerate my Taco Bell, because if you leave it out, it retains it's fresh flavor. If you refrigerate it, it tastes like leftovers. Fresh tastes better to me than leftovers.
However, when you bite into your taco and get a mouthful of sour cream that is more sour than normal and... wait for it... yup, there's a distinct flavor of spoilage... that's worse than leftovers.
It was like they heated a goat, then milked it to get hot milk for producing the sour cream, then allowed the goat to die from exposure to heat, then scrapped the inside of it's udder and put that flavor into the sour cream. It's not something I want to duplicate. And yet, I might have to regurgitate it later today. That would really suck if I had to throw up at work. I hate throwing up. I really hate throwing up away from home. I really, really hate throwing up away from home because I'm stupid enough to leave a taco out overnight, maybe over two nights, and then double stupid for tasting the Hot Dead Goat in the taco AND TAKING A SECOND BITE TO MAKE SURE IT WAS REALLY HOT DEAD GOAT!!
Sometimes, it's amazing to me that I'm alive at all.
The Great Sunburn part II
When I moved away from home in the Conservative South West after graduating from college, I moved directly to Manhattan. I moved away from friends and family. I moved away from the familiar and into another world. I had a buddy who moved directly to Los Angeles. Both of us had a hard time adjusting. We called this time The Great Sunburn: no matter what you did or how much momentary relief you found, you were constantly uncomfortable. Like having an all-over sunburn, there's nothing you can really do except feel pain, feel discomfort, and wait for it to end.
I have moved back home now, after many years of being away. I was an actor. Now I work for the government shuffling papers for people with diseases. I was single. Now, I'm married with two kids. I used to smoke all the time, more than 2 packs a day, as I recall. I haven't smoked a cigarette in over 5 years. I used to drink almost every night. I'm lucky to get a drink every month now. I used to be alone. Now I'm in love. I used to not worry about anybody else. Now, I have 3 other lives that are dependent on what I do.
Today as I grumpily stared at my computer screen, feeling my body aching from something I did over the weekend, I realized that I was feeling kinda like I did during The Great Sunburn. I'm out of my element, not around what was comfortable for so long.
When I moved back home, I had a plan to make money, live in my father's house, and pay off my student loan debt. I would become a Physician's Assistant, pay off the loan in 5 years, and then move someplace to return to my acting career. My first day back, I read an email from my high school sweetheart who, I thought, had left my life 17 years ago. She was back, and I wasn't going to let her go a second time. And just like that, my plan changed. A year later, I'm a husband and a step-father, trying to find a job that I've never done before. Trying to be accepted into a world I've never been a part of. Trying to support a family. I barely supported myself before and now I'm thinking about the livelihood of 3 other people. I'm trying to spend time with my wife, my boys, both individually and together, work overtime so that we have enough money to live and pay our lawyers, deal with an abusive ex-husband and several very abusive years and court trials. My wife and I are really making a go at making her art workshops a viable business, and it's working well, but that's another thing I'm dealing with. My brother and sister want my time and energy, which is another thing.
Sometimes, I get to have a beer. I think that's about all that's left of me from my former life.
This isn't quite the same as The Great Sunburn. The past three nights have been wonderful for me. My wife and I pulled out the sleeper sofa and slept in our rumpus room, as it has an air conditioner and we could actually snuggle. It's amazing how much that means and how far that goes in terms of making me feel good, rested, and normal. Snuggling with my wife is home, and when it gets too hot for that, it's like I lose my home. So there are times when I'm comfortable. This is like The Great Sunburn in that I don't know what else to do by wait for... I'm not sure what. I've always had a plan. Now, I have no plan. No vision of my future other than my wife. Tomorrow we may stop delivering papers, stop the art classes, stop the government work, stop all that we're doing and do something else. But we'll do it together, I'm certain. But it's hard to know what to do while I'm uncertain about what to do. It's like I'm floating on a life raft, my former life has crashed and sunk into the ocean, never to been seen again. My future isn't in sight yet. And until I make it to that Future Island, I just gotta stay alive. This time, now, is The Great Life Raft. If I gotta be stuck on a life raft, I'm glad I'm there with my wife. I'd like us to find that Future Island now, though, so I can start doing whatever it is I'm supposed to be doing. Whatever it is that will allow me to relax.
I don't know have a plan now, and I'm not sure how to make one. Maybe my plan is that it's going to take more time than I thought.
I have moved back home now, after many years of being away. I was an actor. Now I work for the government shuffling papers for people with diseases. I was single. Now, I'm married with two kids. I used to smoke all the time, more than 2 packs a day, as I recall. I haven't smoked a cigarette in over 5 years. I used to drink almost every night. I'm lucky to get a drink every month now. I used to be alone. Now I'm in love. I used to not worry about anybody else. Now, I have 3 other lives that are dependent on what I do.
Today as I grumpily stared at my computer screen, feeling my body aching from something I did over the weekend, I realized that I was feeling kinda like I did during The Great Sunburn. I'm out of my element, not around what was comfortable for so long.
When I moved back home, I had a plan to make money, live in my father's house, and pay off my student loan debt. I would become a Physician's Assistant, pay off the loan in 5 years, and then move someplace to return to my acting career. My first day back, I read an email from my high school sweetheart who, I thought, had left my life 17 years ago. She was back, and I wasn't going to let her go a second time. And just like that, my plan changed. A year later, I'm a husband and a step-father, trying to find a job that I've never done before. Trying to be accepted into a world I've never been a part of. Trying to support a family. I barely supported myself before and now I'm thinking about the livelihood of 3 other people. I'm trying to spend time with my wife, my boys, both individually and together, work overtime so that we have enough money to live and pay our lawyers, deal with an abusive ex-husband and several very abusive years and court trials. My wife and I are really making a go at making her art workshops a viable business, and it's working well, but that's another thing I'm dealing with. My brother and sister want my time and energy, which is another thing.
Sometimes, I get to have a beer. I think that's about all that's left of me from my former life.
This isn't quite the same as The Great Sunburn. The past three nights have been wonderful for me. My wife and I pulled out the sleeper sofa and slept in our rumpus room, as it has an air conditioner and we could actually snuggle. It's amazing how much that means and how far that goes in terms of making me feel good, rested, and normal. Snuggling with my wife is home, and when it gets too hot for that, it's like I lose my home. So there are times when I'm comfortable. This is like The Great Sunburn in that I don't know what else to do by wait for... I'm not sure what. I've always had a plan. Now, I have no plan. No vision of my future other than my wife. Tomorrow we may stop delivering papers, stop the art classes, stop the government work, stop all that we're doing and do something else. But we'll do it together, I'm certain. But it's hard to know what to do while I'm uncertain about what to do. It's like I'm floating on a life raft, my former life has crashed and sunk into the ocean, never to been seen again. My future isn't in sight yet. And until I make it to that Future Island, I just gotta stay alive. This time, now, is The Great Life Raft. If I gotta be stuck on a life raft, I'm glad I'm there with my wife. I'd like us to find that Future Island now, though, so I can start doing whatever it is I'm supposed to be doing. Whatever it is that will allow me to relax.
I don't know have a plan now, and I'm not sure how to make one. Maybe my plan is that it's going to take more time than I thought.
Monday, July 11, 2011
Gnome Patrol
PART I
Doorbell.
Man answers.
On his front porch are two children, dressed as exterminators.
CARTER: Gnome patrol.
MAN: I'm sorry.
CARTER: Gnome patrol.
MAN: Gnome patrol?
CARTER: Gnome!
PIERCE: Patrol.
MAN: Gnome patrol.
CARTER: That's right.
PIERCE: Patrol.
MAN: I'm not certain what you're saying.
CARTER: Have you had your home checked for gnomes?
PIERCE: Gnome holes.
CARTER: Gnome holes can be deadly if left unchecked.
MAN: Gnome holes?
CARTER: Gnome!
PIERCE: Holes.
MAN: Yeah. I think I'm all good.
He closes the door, and almost immediately the doorbell rings again. He opens the door and the children are there, just as before.
MAN: Hello?
CARTER: Gnome patrol.
MAN: Right, I'm pretty sure I just told you I was all good.
CARTER: Did you?
MAN: Pretty sure.
PIERCE: Have you checked your gnome holes?
MAN: Not, no, not today, no.
CARTER: Gnome!
PIERCE: Holes.
MAN: Okay, then.
He closes the door. Almost immediately, the doorbell rings again. The MAN sighs slightly, then opens the door. The children are there, as before, wearing fake mustaches. The MAN stands in his door, staring at the children. They stand on his front porch, staring at him. The MAN squints at them. They stare at him, unassumingly.
PIERCE: Patrol.
CARTER: Gnome!
MAN: (raising his voice) Okay! What is it you want? What are you selling? Huh? What, who, where... Good bye.
The MAN closes his door, turns and gasps, as the camera swings to show us the interior of his home, where the two children are standing, as they were outside.
CARTER: Gnome patrol.
PIERCE: Gnome holes.
CARTER: Gnome!
Blackout.
PART II
MAN, CARTER and PIERCE are all relaxing in a hammock, sipping drinks out of glass mugs. They do not look at each other.
MAN: Did you guys hear that Reched Xess is coming in concert?
CARTER: Gnome!
PIERCE: Gnome patrol.
MAN: Yeah. I agree.
Blackout.
Doorbell.
Man answers.
On his front porch are two children, dressed as exterminators.
CARTER: Gnome patrol.
MAN: I'm sorry.
CARTER: Gnome patrol.
MAN: Gnome patrol?
CARTER: Gnome!
PIERCE: Patrol.
MAN: Gnome patrol.
CARTER: That's right.
PIERCE: Patrol.
MAN: I'm not certain what you're saying.
CARTER: Have you had your home checked for gnomes?
PIERCE: Gnome holes.
CARTER: Gnome holes can be deadly if left unchecked.
MAN: Gnome holes?
CARTER: Gnome!
PIERCE: Holes.
MAN: Yeah. I think I'm all good.
He closes the door, and almost immediately the doorbell rings again. He opens the door and the children are there, just as before.
MAN: Hello?
CARTER: Gnome patrol.
MAN: Right, I'm pretty sure I just told you I was all good.
CARTER: Did you?
MAN: Pretty sure.
PIERCE: Have you checked your gnome holes?
MAN: Not, no, not today, no.
CARTER: Gnome!
PIERCE: Holes.
MAN: Okay, then.
He closes the door. Almost immediately, the doorbell rings again. The MAN sighs slightly, then opens the door. The children are there, as before, wearing fake mustaches. The MAN stands in his door, staring at the children. They stand on his front porch, staring at him. The MAN squints at them. They stare at him, unassumingly.
PIERCE: Patrol.
CARTER: Gnome!
MAN: (raising his voice) Okay! What is it you want? What are you selling? Huh? What, who, where... Good bye.
The MAN closes his door, turns and gasps, as the camera swings to show us the interior of his home, where the two children are standing, as they were outside.
CARTER: Gnome patrol.
PIERCE: Gnome holes.
CARTER: Gnome!
Blackout.
PART II
MAN, CARTER and PIERCE are all relaxing in a hammock, sipping drinks out of glass mugs. They do not look at each other.
MAN: Did you guys hear that Reched Xess is coming in concert?
CARTER: Gnome!
PIERCE: Gnome patrol.
MAN: Yeah. I agree.
Blackout.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Bring Your Child To Work
Today is Bring Your Child To Work day at my office. I didn't think much of it, as both of our boys are with their father today. Besides, I love them too, too much to subject them to the mind-numbing pain and tedium that is government work. They're children, for godsake! They don't deserve this kind of abuse until they get their GED!
So one of my co-workers brings her child by my office. Let's call her Hair. So Hair walks in to my cube with her tween daughter in tow. She introduced us, and I stood up and shook Tween's hand, as Hair continued to tell her why I was a part of the work tour.
"This gentleman," says Hair, gently turning Tween's almost-adolescent frame so that it's pointed in my general direction, although Tween's head is still facing anywhere except in the direction of another human. "This gentleman helped me get out of a pile of work. I had so much work it was overwhelming. But then I talked with him, and he gave me a system that allowed me to get completely caught up. And I just can't thank him enough." At this time, Tween has rolled some sheets of paper into a tube, put them to her mouth, and has started blowing Hair's face, so that Hair's long, platinum hair is violently splashing to one side of Hair's head, as if she was in a monsoon. Hair continues to talk to me as she fishes strands of hair out of her eyes and puts up a useless hand to stop the onslaught of Tween's tornadic activities. "It's been a year and a half since we started here, and I'm ready for another vacation!" I nod to her, as it's difficult to pay attention to her words when her eyes are obfuscated by tendrils of stringy platinum smacking her in her nose and cheeks. "I think I have enough money saved up so that it can be affordable, but I just don't want to come back to a pile like I had before. It was just unbearable."
"It feels good to be in control," I said to her, the irony of my statements completely lost on Tween's wind-battered mother. Hair pushed Tween out of my office, and I yelled over her mother, "It was good to meet you, Tween." From down the hallway, I heard a matronly smack of hand on shoulder, and then in a voice that sounded like it was eminating from a paper tube, I heard, "It was good to meet you, too!"
Children are fucking stupid.
So one of my co-workers brings her child by my office. Let's call her Hair. So Hair walks in to my cube with her tween daughter in tow. She introduced us, and I stood up and shook Tween's hand, as Hair continued to tell her why I was a part of the work tour.
"This gentleman," says Hair, gently turning Tween's almost-adolescent frame so that it's pointed in my general direction, although Tween's head is still facing anywhere except in the direction of another human. "This gentleman helped me get out of a pile of work. I had so much work it was overwhelming. But then I talked with him, and he gave me a system that allowed me to get completely caught up. And I just can't thank him enough." At this time, Tween has rolled some sheets of paper into a tube, put them to her mouth, and has started blowing Hair's face, so that Hair's long, platinum hair is violently splashing to one side of Hair's head, as if she was in a monsoon. Hair continues to talk to me as she fishes strands of hair out of her eyes and puts up a useless hand to stop the onslaught of Tween's tornadic activities. "It's been a year and a half since we started here, and I'm ready for another vacation!" I nod to her, as it's difficult to pay attention to her words when her eyes are obfuscated by tendrils of stringy platinum smacking her in her nose and cheeks. "I think I have enough money saved up so that it can be affordable, but I just don't want to come back to a pile like I had before. It was just unbearable."
"It feels good to be in control," I said to her, the irony of my statements completely lost on Tween's wind-battered mother. Hair pushed Tween out of my office, and I yelled over her mother, "It was good to meet you, Tween." From down the hallway, I heard a matronly smack of hand on shoulder, and then in a voice that sounded like it was eminating from a paper tube, I heard, "It was good to meet you, too!"
Children are fucking stupid.
Fantasy At Work
I'm having another fantasy at work.
My bedroom gets hot. It sometimes affects my wife and I. Sometimes we wake up with the sheets drenched in our sweat. Sometimes we can't even get to sleep because it's so hot. And we certainly don't snuggle like we would like to. Sometimes, we don't snuggle at all. And that tears us up.
We're not sure why this is happening. We know it happens more when our boys come to stay with us for the 8 days that we have them in our home (which still feels great to say, as compared to the 6 days they used to stay before we went to court!!) because we close our door, so the air doesn't circulate as well and it gets really, really hot.
But we have a solution. We are going to buy a window air conditioner. We've talked about it and we know what size we would like (10,000-12,000 BTU), and I'm pretty sure I would like a Frigidare (they have a good rating from the ol' Consumer Reports). And we need to save up to get the $300 it's going to cost to purchase this bad boy. I'm even hoping that air conditioners will go on sale next month, so both of us are looking to August as the month when our room becomes a climate-controlled paradise.
So here's my fantasy. I have the air conditioner. I got it on sale. It was only $100. And I go to Lowe's and get some pipe insulation foam, and I take it all back home, and I install it, lovingly, in our window so that there are no open spaces around the edges of the window unit. It's in there tightly and securely, and no bugs or heat or cold will find it's way into our room. And then, I plug it in. The plug has it's own power strip which has a circuit breaker on it. And the entire strip has been reserved for the air conditioner. And then, I walk over to my bed, and with the remote control, I turn on the air conditioner. Quietly, the machine vibrates a little, and I can tell that it's on because I can almost hear a fan blowing... is that a fan or somebody pulling out of their driveway from the house across the street, I can't tell... and it's quiet and the air starts to move. And my wife's hands make their way to my sweaty neck, which quickly becomes a dry neck because the air has almost immediately become colder. And I lay down on my bed, and my wife throws a leg over me for the first time since the sun moved into our living room, and we snuggle in the cool, cool quiet of our completely comfortable bedroom.
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh.
Such a nice fantasy.
My bedroom gets hot. It sometimes affects my wife and I. Sometimes we wake up with the sheets drenched in our sweat. Sometimes we can't even get to sleep because it's so hot. And we certainly don't snuggle like we would like to. Sometimes, we don't snuggle at all. And that tears us up.
We're not sure why this is happening. We know it happens more when our boys come to stay with us for the 8 days that we have them in our home (which still feels great to say, as compared to the 6 days they used to stay before we went to court!!) because we close our door, so the air doesn't circulate as well and it gets really, really hot.
But we have a solution. We are going to buy a window air conditioner. We've talked about it and we know what size we would like (10,000-12,000 BTU), and I'm pretty sure I would like a Frigidare (they have a good rating from the ol' Consumer Reports). And we need to save up to get the $300 it's going to cost to purchase this bad boy. I'm even hoping that air conditioners will go on sale next month, so both of us are looking to August as the month when our room becomes a climate-controlled paradise.
So here's my fantasy. I have the air conditioner. I got it on sale. It was only $100. And I go to Lowe's and get some pipe insulation foam, and I take it all back home, and I install it, lovingly, in our window so that there are no open spaces around the edges of the window unit. It's in there tightly and securely, and no bugs or heat or cold will find it's way into our room. And then, I plug it in. The plug has it's own power strip which has a circuit breaker on it. And the entire strip has been reserved for the air conditioner. And then, I walk over to my bed, and with the remote control, I turn on the air conditioner. Quietly, the machine vibrates a little, and I can tell that it's on because I can almost hear a fan blowing... is that a fan or somebody pulling out of their driveway from the house across the street, I can't tell... and it's quiet and the air starts to move. And my wife's hands make their way to my sweaty neck, which quickly becomes a dry neck because the air has almost immediately become colder. And I lay down on my bed, and my wife throws a leg over me for the first time since the sun moved into our living room, and we snuggle in the cool, cool quiet of our completely comfortable bedroom.
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh.
Such a nice fantasy.
Republicans Want To Kill You
THIS IS FICTION
Leaks from within the Republican National Committee have stated that Republican members are being coerced into stonewalling budget negotiations so that the national government will close down, which will affect the working middle-class and underemployed without seriously damaging the wealthiest Americans. The ripple effect of this shut down will touch more than 98% of Americans making $70,000 or less annually, while affecting less than 1% of families making $100,000. Government employees will be furloughed and laid off, government programs will stop, and the financial streams, both to and from the government, will halt.
What will this mean? Millions of Americans will be out of work without a pay check as their bills and mortgages continue to pile up.
This ever-increasing mound of personal debt will lead to an Enslaved Mindset: "I must take any job I can get so that I can feed and care for my family." Suddenly, families making more than $100,000 annually have a lot of cheap labor to choose from to wash their cars, mow their lawns, serve their dinner guests.
For those who don't fall subject to the Enslavement Mentality, they will be prone to criminal acts, some of which will be acts of revolution and rebellion against a system which has discarded them. These people will attack the rich, determined to take what they need and what their family needs.
These are the people the Republicans will kill first, declaring a Second Civil War against the poor and working-class citizens of America. Using The Second Amendment as a shield, they will start executing individuals who do not bow to their demands. These deaths will spur more riots and revolutions, which will bring about more poor and middle-class deaths.
As the poor and working-class families are eradicated from our country, the Republicans will enjoy more personal wealth than ever before, with decreased responsibility to their government or their country. It's exactly what they are working toward: less government, less tax, more personal growth.
Individuals who make less than $70,000 annually are encouraged to arms themselves against the upcoming onslaught. Firearms and weapons should be purchased and used for protection against Republicans intent on causing a Second Civil War.
Do not let them believe that they can defeat you by taking away your money and livelihood. Your job and government might stop, but your power continues.
Protect your family any way you can from Republicans who want to kill you. Do not let them. Save your loved ones and yourself!
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