Lots Going On!
4 hours ago
Instant messages, Five-children trouble, Movie review, Sabbat, and Yule cards
Category: Life
I have never been a fan of instant messaging. It's true that my Yahoo IM program starts up instantly when I log on, but I'm set to 'hidden' or 'invisible' or whatever that setting is, just so I don't get those annoying pop up windows when I'm in the middle of some typing or research. And it's not that I don't like chatting with people, I love chatting; catching up with old friends, making plans for an outing, meeting new people; I am a social butterfly ... but the inane (or insane) drivel that eschews from SOME of these IM prowlers is incredulous. How someone gets off from letting go of their private parts to actually type in the exclamation, "Oh yeah, baby, right there, Oh God, that feels great, " completely eludes the hell out of me. Don't get me wrong, I am human, I get turned on by reading those stories they print in Penthouse, but c'mon!?!
A beloved friend wanted to chat here at MySpace, so for reasons unknown, I installed the damnable MySpace chat thingy and we had a wonderful half hour conversation. Mind you, she is in my phone's speed dial, and I probably in hers, yet we avoided listening to one another's whiny, irritating voices by chatting on-line instead??? Not more that 60 whole seconds after our conversation was over, I was inundated with requests to chat. Being that I actually am an amiable person, and I had just downloaded the whole chat thing, I chose one out of the flurry of little 'approve' boxes. Right up front I let the gentleman know I was not interested in sex "crap" (my very favorite technical term) while conversing. We actually chatted a while but he kept pressing the sex talk issue so I disengaged. I talked to another who actually gave me a phone number. The last one I talked to was very nice, although I do believe he was chatting with multiple girls because I had to repeat myself.
I retire for the night, wake up, check my e-mail, sign into Myspace and now my MySpace in-box is again flooded with those incoherent, babbling, ungrammatical, cretinous solicitations for "love" and my e-mail address (and anyone with half a brain could probably figure out the e-mail addresses for half the people here on myspace). I have since deleted the MySpace chat thingy from my hard drive, so if you want to be added to my Yahoo one so I can chat with you when I feel like chatting with you, figure it out... all of my friends have at least, the very least, half a brain.
I may have brewed trouble for myself at work this last week. Incident number one occurred when an employee discovered her new schedule. After several verbal warnings and subsequent write-ups, an employee with a habitual late problem found her hours had been cut to 35 hours instead of the usual 40. I had given her an extra hour to get to work everyday. She complained that she couldn't afford to get her hours cut. She had children. Five of them, to be exact. She should be given special consideration because of this. Was she serious? I retorted, which I probably should not have, "I should give you special treatment because you can't keep your legs closed and you don't believe in abortion?" Yeah, I said it out loud.
Incident number two occurred when another lady with five kids insisted on having her kids hang around the store while she gambled. I observed on the security camera the clerks trying to explain to this lady that she could not do that and the lady was becoming more and more hostile, so I intervened. She asked if I was the manager. I affirmed. She asked me what the problem was. Was she serious? I calmly explain to her that it is against the law for her kids to be hanging around the store while she gambled. She didn't understand why. I again try to explain to her that she needed to leave and take her children home. She still didn't understand. After three minutes of her telling me her eldest is 13 and has them under control and how she didn't see what the big deal was, and of her attempting to send her 13, 10, 6, 5, and 4 year old across the street to another store, I said, (yep! out loud), "Any decent mother would take her kids home so they could do some homework, or clean their room, or play on the playground."
"Are you calling me a bad mother?"
I literally bit my tongue. Then I said, "Yes I am, and for you to put the burden of caring for your young ones on the shoulders of your 13 year old is another great example of that," as blood dripped out of the corner of my mouth. She left with my name, the store's id number and the phone number for corporate. I'm expecting something. I really do love my job. Really.
Went and saw American Gangster today. It was a very.... even movie. Don't go expecting huge amounts of action and cup holder clutching drama, it's not that kind of movie. It's good. Very well written, acted, directed, (Can you go wrong with Ridley Scott?) I did have to constantly remind myself that Denzel Washington was playing a bad guy, but that could just be me.
Sabbat was great. The mountain air was crisply cold, but actually very pleasant. Of course, anytime you're drinking rum-laden wassail, the cold will be pleasant. My 3 peers and I dressed as the four elements with me being the element of air. we looked phenomenal! I'll post pictures as soon as I get them from Lady Sistterwolf.
It's getting to be around 50 days till Yule and I'll be sending out my holiday cards soon. If any of my fine people would like to receive a hand-calligraphied Yule card from me I'll be needing your mailing address promptly. I would love to send you one so please don't hesitate sending me your home addresses (or P.O. boxes, it's all good.) I will promise I won't share your information with anyone else, but I won't promise that I won't use it for stalking purposes.
originally posted November 7, 2007
Category: Life
I have never been a fan of instant messaging. It's true that my Yahoo IM program starts up instantly when I log on, but I'm set to 'hidden' or 'invisible' or whatever that setting is, just so I don't get those annoying pop up windows when I'm in the middle of some typing or research. And it's not that I don't like chatting with people, I love chatting; catching up with old friends, making plans for an outing, meeting new people; I am a social butterfly ... but the inane (or insane) drivel that eschews from SOME of these IM prowlers is incredulous. How someone gets off from letting go of their private parts to actually type in the exclamation, "Oh yeah, baby, right there, Oh God, that feels great, " completely eludes the hell out of me. Don't get me wrong, I am human, I get turned on by reading those stories they print in Penthouse, but c'mon!?!
A beloved friend wanted to chat here at MySpace, so for reasons unknown, I installed the damnable MySpace chat thingy and we had a wonderful half hour conversation. Mind you, she is in my phone's speed dial, and I probably in hers, yet we avoided listening to one another's whiny, irritating voices by chatting on-line instead??? Not more that 60 whole seconds after our conversation was over, I was inundated with requests to chat. Being that I actually am an amiable person, and I had just downloaded the whole chat thing, I chose one out of the flurry of little 'approve' boxes. Right up front I let the gentleman know I was not interested in sex "crap" (my very favorite technical term) while conversing. We actually chatted a while but he kept pressing the sex talk issue so I disengaged. I talked to another who actually gave me a phone number. The last one I talked to was very nice, although I do believe he was chatting with multiple girls because I had to repeat myself.
I retire for the night, wake up, check my e-mail, sign into Myspace and now my MySpace in-box is again flooded with those incoherent, babbling, ungrammatical, cretinous solicitations for "love" and my e-mail address (and anyone with half a brain could probably figure out the e-mail addresses for half the people here on myspace). I have since deleted the MySpace chat thingy from my hard drive, so if you want to be added to my Yahoo one so I can chat with you when I feel like chatting with you, figure it out... all of my friends have at least, the very least, half a brain.
I may have brewed trouble for myself at work this last week. Incident number one occurred when an employee discovered her new schedule. After several verbal warnings and subsequent write-ups, an employee with a habitual late problem found her hours had been cut to 35 hours instead of the usual 40. I had given her an extra hour to get to work everyday. She complained that she couldn't afford to get her hours cut. She had children. Five of them, to be exact. She should be given special consideration because of this. Was she serious? I retorted, which I probably should not have, "I should give you special treatment because you can't keep your legs closed and you don't believe in abortion?" Yeah, I said it out loud.
Incident number two occurred when another lady with five kids insisted on having her kids hang around the store while she gambled. I observed on the security camera the clerks trying to explain to this lady that she could not do that and the lady was becoming more and more hostile, so I intervened. She asked if I was the manager. I affirmed. She asked me what the problem was. Was she serious? I calmly explain to her that it is against the law for her kids to be hanging around the store while she gambled. She didn't understand why. I again try to explain to her that she needed to leave and take her children home. She still didn't understand. After three minutes of her telling me her eldest is 13 and has them under control and how she didn't see what the big deal was, and of her attempting to send her 13, 10, 6, 5, and 4 year old across the street to another store, I said, (yep! out loud), "Any decent mother would take her kids home so they could do some homework, or clean their room, or play on the playground."
"Are you calling me a bad mother?"
I literally bit my tongue. Then I said, "Yes I am, and for you to put the burden of caring for your young ones on the shoulders of your 13 year old is another great example of that," as blood dripped out of the corner of my mouth. She left with my name, the store's id number and the phone number for corporate. I'm expecting something. I really do love my job. Really.
Went and saw American Gangster today. It was a very.... even movie. Don't go expecting huge amounts of action and cup holder clutching drama, it's not that kind of movie. It's good. Very well written, acted, directed, (Can you go wrong with Ridley Scott?) I did have to constantly remind myself that Denzel Washington was playing a bad guy, but that could just be me.
Sabbat was great. The mountain air was crisply cold, but actually very pleasant. Of course, anytime you're drinking rum-laden wassail, the cold will be pleasant. My 3 peers and I dressed as the four elements with me being the element of air. we looked phenomenal! I'll post pictures as soon as I get them from Lady Sistterwolf.
It's getting to be around 50 days till Yule and I'll be sending out my holiday cards soon. If any of my fine people would like to receive a hand-calligraphied Yule card from me I'll be needing your mailing address promptly. I would love to send you one so please don't hesitate sending me your home addresses (or P.O. boxes, it's all good.) I will promise I won't share your information with anyone else, but I won't promise that I won't use it for stalking purposes.
originally posted November 7, 2007
COME PLAY WITH ME!
FACEBOOK - MYSPACE - TWITTER - AIM: VEGASERMA - YAHOO: MAIDENPLAY - EMAIL
Irish breasts and Irish stew
Category: Life
originally posted October 29, 2007
Outside the front on Molly Malone's is a bronze of an Irish woman next to a cart: Molly Malone, I presume. She's very slender, yet the swell of her bronze breasts above the neckline of her shirt is pretty... um... amazing. Expect the boys to stare at the statue for a while. Inside the decor is pretty nice. It'll take a moment for the eyes to adjust if you go during the day, but I'll bet it's very pleasant in the evening. Sayings in Irish are written on the walls with its English translation below it. Very nice atmosphere, I must say.
I met a my-space friend there for a late lunch Friday. This was our first meeting in real life so I was pretty nervous. Have you ever done that? Made plans to meet someone in real life that you initially met on the computer? All kinds of different nervousness happens. It's just like meeting a date. "Do I look okay? Does my breath stink? What will we talk about? What if I'm too brash? What if I'm too demure? What if they hate my laugh? What if I don't laugh? Along with the worry of, "What if they delete me as a friend?" thrown in for good measure. if you're just meeting as a date then it's easy...if it doesn't work, it doesn't work...no big deal...but a friend...scarier than I ever imagined.
Well, I wasn't deleted Saturday, so I feel pretty good! We did laugh a lot and I had a great time and so did they, according to the e-mail I found on Saturday. Whew... next time it won't be so rough!
Back to Molly Malone's... I was on the St. Rose Parkway heading towards the I-15 and learned the hard way that if you want to pass the I-15 and get to South Highland on the other side you have to stay in the left lane or the construction cones won't let you go forward and you are forced onto the freeway. Then it's another 5-10 minute drive to the next exit at Silverado so you can turn around and come back. And then the off ramp with the pretty signs for the So. Highland exit is currently out of commission and you're expecting to have to drive to Jean before you can turn around again and come back until you see the tiny little sign that tells you about the temporary exit for So. Highland and the St. Rose Pkwy. I love Vegas construction.
It must have been something I had to do because the trek from the St. Rose exit to the Silverado exit afforded me the sighting of Molly Malone's off the freeway so there was no need for calling for directions.
We sat in the restaurant section and I asked the waiter for the specials. He said fish tacos. I asked if that was Irish. There is a tendency there to put an Irish name in front of any menu item to make it Irish. I don't think nachos are Irish either. I opted for the lamb stew in a bread bowl. It was GREAT! and alot...share it with others or it'll go to waste. My Jack on ice was also a very large drink. Wow! I didn't finish that either. My friend had the Guiness steak... mm mm... also very good!
Great lunch on a great day.
Molly Malone's Irish Pub
11930 Southern Highlands Pkwy
Las Vegas, NV 89141
Phone: (702) 837-0213
originally posted October 29, 2007
Outside the front on Molly Malone's is a bronze of an Irish woman next to a cart: Molly Malone, I presume. She's very slender, yet the swell of her bronze breasts above the neckline of her shirt is pretty... um... amazing. Expect the boys to stare at the statue for a while. Inside the decor is pretty nice. It'll take a moment for the eyes to adjust if you go during the day, but I'll bet it's very pleasant in the evening. Sayings in Irish are written on the walls with its English translation below it. Very nice atmosphere, I must say.
I met a my-space friend there for a late lunch Friday. This was our first meeting in real life so I was pretty nervous. Have you ever done that? Made plans to meet someone in real life that you initially met on the computer? All kinds of different nervousness happens. It's just like meeting a date. "Do I look okay? Does my breath stink? What will we talk about? What if I'm too brash? What if I'm too demure? What if they hate my laugh? What if I don't laugh? Along with the worry of, "What if they delete me as a friend?" thrown in for good measure. if you're just meeting as a date then it's easy...if it doesn't work, it doesn't work...no big deal...but a friend...scarier than I ever imagined.
Well, I wasn't deleted Saturday, so I feel pretty good! We did laugh a lot and I had a great time and so did they, according to the e-mail I found on Saturday. Whew... next time it won't be so rough!
Back to Molly Malone's... I was on the St. Rose Parkway heading towards the I-15 and learned the hard way that if you want to pass the I-15 and get to South Highland on the other side you have to stay in the left lane or the construction cones won't let you go forward and you are forced onto the freeway. Then it's another 5-10 minute drive to the next exit at Silverado so you can turn around and come back. And then the off ramp with the pretty signs for the So. Highland exit is currently out of commission and you're expecting to have to drive to Jean before you can turn around again and come back until you see the tiny little sign that tells you about the temporary exit for So. Highland and the St. Rose Pkwy. I love Vegas construction.
It must have been something I had to do because the trek from the St. Rose exit to the Silverado exit afforded me the sighting of Molly Malone's off the freeway so there was no need for calling for directions.
We sat in the restaurant section and I asked the waiter for the specials. He said fish tacos. I asked if that was Irish. There is a tendency there to put an Irish name in front of any menu item to make it Irish. I don't think nachos are Irish either. I opted for the lamb stew in a bread bowl. It was GREAT! and alot...share it with others or it'll go to waste. My Jack on ice was also a very large drink. Wow! I didn't finish that either. My friend had the Guiness steak... mm mm... also very good!
Great lunch on a great day.
Molly Malone's Irish Pub
11930 Southern Highlands Pkwy
Las Vegas, NV 89141
Phone: (702) 837-0213
COME PLAY WITH ME!
FACEBOOK - MYSPACE - TWITTER - AIM: VEGASERMA - YAHOO: MAIDENPLAY - EMAIL
Sacrifice: A Dream
originally posted October 25, 2007
The air was thick with concrete dust from the falling buildings. The windshield of the car was covered in a dusty film. It got so heavy, we had to utilize the windshield wipers so we could see. I checked our rear. The tank was right behind us. Damn, it moved fast for such a large vehicle. It was almost unreal. The driver swerved viciously to avoid another falling building and I was thrown around the small compartment of the back seat. I quickly regained footing and watched as the tank plowed right through the debris, exploding another cloud of particles.
"Hurry," my mind screamed and then I voiced it aloud! "Hurry! He's catching us!"
We'd probably be better off on foot," the driver said and I watched the back of his head move as if searching for a good spot to ditch the car. Periodically, I was tossed about as he weaved his way through the forsaken city. It had all just changed. The world was a different place. No longer could nights be spent just watching a television or hanging out at the bar with friends. Now was a time for survival. Avoid getting caught. Avoid being enslaved. Avoid torture and internment. And this was from our own government.
I checked our rear. At sometime the back window had been blown out and the clarity of the scene behind me gave me shivers. Vegas was in complete ruins. Small orange fire glows everywhere silhouetted the damage against the fading sky. Smoke tendrils reached up into the dark purple space that replaced the once ever-present orange glow. Here and there you could see singular souls, covered in soot and rags diving for cover from the search vehicles. Ours seemed to be falling behind. Maybe it had found new quarry. I felt relieved, yet sorry all at once. I informed the driver and noticed we were slowing down. He pulled in under the half collapsed canopy of what used to be a small casino and we struggled with the doors to let ourselves out.
The other passenger in the front was a small east Indian boy with eyes like the ones you see on the covers of National Geographic. His face was drawn, as if in deep thought. Once released from the vehicle, all of our eyes swept the surrounding area. The distinct whirring of choppers getting closer made us move quickly. Next to the casino was an alley and we ducked into it. The driver was a man in his mid-thirties. He had dark hair, although the light coat of dust made it seem white. He was Italian, I think. He had that stereo-typical swarthy-ness of a lithe Italian soccer star or model. His lips were full and almost constantly pouting. He ran his long, dexterous fingers through his hair and it became black again. Sporting a white open collar shirt that was only half-buttoned up, he grabbed the young boys hand as we walked down the alley.
We came to the passageways end and a ragged cloth curtain blocked our progress. The Italian swept it aside and the sunlight pouring through the opening hurt my eyes for a moment. As my eyesight adjusted to the light, I could make out a marketplace teeming with people. Most were Indian, like the boy. It was near shoulder to shoulder walking through the melee. Suddenly the crowd parted and an Indian man in his forties was on his knees with his face up towards the heavens. His arms were outstretched to the side as he muttered in a language I did not understand. Finally his arms dropped and a couple of the bystanders went to help him up.
At my side was a young Indian girl, who smiled at me when I looked at her. Her eyes then traveled towards the Italian and she said in perfect English, "An offering must be made," and then turned to walk away. Sensing his confusion, I touched the girl on her shoulder ad asked what she meant. She pointed to a small cart from which fetishes and magazines dangled. "Purchase something from him and make it an offering in the temple." I asked if she would show us. I followed the braided girl and indicated for the Italian to follow.
There wasn't much of a selection. An offering of bubble gum or a deck of cards seemed a bit mediocre. A small Indian man before us bought a fetish of an elephant and walked off, presumably towards the temple. The Italian settled on a deck of colorful playing cards, almost Italian in design. He turned them over and over in his hand as the girl led us towards the temple. She started to explain.
Ever so often, God touches a soul here and announces that to save the lives of four hundred, the two hundred males around the touched must make a sacrifice of something. The sacrifice can be something as simple as a pack of gum or a deck of cards. I asked why and she did not know. It had begun long ago, but it happened very frequently. I asked if the announcement had never been complied with. She pointed to the line of forty or so men waiting to make their sacrifice.
The young Indian boy stood in line with the Italian, holding a small doll as the girl led me up the steps of the temple. We stood off to the side, but I could see the drop box protruding from the wall, the men pitched their offerings into. Some just walked up and tossed them in and moved on. Others said a small succinct prayer before doing so. The Italian reached the box and paused. He muttered no prayers. He lowered his eyes and leaned against the wall. I could tell he was contemplating the decision. The girls face wrinkled. She wasn't very happy. "Why does one pause to save the lives of four hundred? At such a low price?"
And then I woke up. Great dream!
originally posted October 25, 2007
The air was thick with concrete dust from the falling buildings. The windshield of the car was covered in a dusty film. It got so heavy, we had to utilize the windshield wipers so we could see. I checked our rear. The tank was right behind us. Damn, it moved fast for such a large vehicle. It was almost unreal. The driver swerved viciously to avoid another falling building and I was thrown around the small compartment of the back seat. I quickly regained footing and watched as the tank plowed right through the debris, exploding another cloud of particles.
"Hurry," my mind screamed and then I voiced it aloud! "Hurry! He's catching us!"
We'd probably be better off on foot," the driver said and I watched the back of his head move as if searching for a good spot to ditch the car. Periodically, I was tossed about as he weaved his way through the forsaken city. It had all just changed. The world was a different place. No longer could nights be spent just watching a television or hanging out at the bar with friends. Now was a time for survival. Avoid getting caught. Avoid being enslaved. Avoid torture and internment. And this was from our own government.
I checked our rear. At sometime the back window had been blown out and the clarity of the scene behind me gave me shivers. Vegas was in complete ruins. Small orange fire glows everywhere silhouetted the damage against the fading sky. Smoke tendrils reached up into the dark purple space that replaced the once ever-present orange glow. Here and there you could see singular souls, covered in soot and rags diving for cover from the search vehicles. Ours seemed to be falling behind. Maybe it had found new quarry. I felt relieved, yet sorry all at once. I informed the driver and noticed we were slowing down. He pulled in under the half collapsed canopy of what used to be a small casino and we struggled with the doors to let ourselves out.
The other passenger in the front was a small east Indian boy with eyes like the ones you see on the covers of National Geographic. His face was drawn, as if in deep thought. Once released from the vehicle, all of our eyes swept the surrounding area. The distinct whirring of choppers getting closer made us move quickly. Next to the casino was an alley and we ducked into it. The driver was a man in his mid-thirties. He had dark hair, although the light coat of dust made it seem white. He was Italian, I think. He had that stereo-typical swarthy-ness of a lithe Italian soccer star or model. His lips were full and almost constantly pouting. He ran his long, dexterous fingers through his hair and it became black again. Sporting a white open collar shirt that was only half-buttoned up, he grabbed the young boys hand as we walked down the alley.
We came to the passageways end and a ragged cloth curtain blocked our progress. The Italian swept it aside and the sunlight pouring through the opening hurt my eyes for a moment. As my eyesight adjusted to the light, I could make out a marketplace teeming with people. Most were Indian, like the boy. It was near shoulder to shoulder walking through the melee. Suddenly the crowd parted and an Indian man in his forties was on his knees with his face up towards the heavens. His arms were outstretched to the side as he muttered in a language I did not understand. Finally his arms dropped and a couple of the bystanders went to help him up.
At my side was a young Indian girl, who smiled at me when I looked at her. Her eyes then traveled towards the Italian and she said in perfect English, "An offering must be made," and then turned to walk away. Sensing his confusion, I touched the girl on her shoulder ad asked what she meant. She pointed to a small cart from which fetishes and magazines dangled. "Purchase something from him and make it an offering in the temple." I asked if she would show us. I followed the braided girl and indicated for the Italian to follow.
There wasn't much of a selection. An offering of bubble gum or a deck of cards seemed a bit mediocre. A small Indian man before us bought a fetish of an elephant and walked off, presumably towards the temple. The Italian settled on a deck of colorful playing cards, almost Italian in design. He turned them over and over in his hand as the girl led us towards the temple. She started to explain.
Ever so often, God touches a soul here and announces that to save the lives of four hundred, the two hundred males around the touched must make a sacrifice of something. The sacrifice can be something as simple as a pack of gum or a deck of cards. I asked why and she did not know. It had begun long ago, but it happened very frequently. I asked if the announcement had never been complied with. She pointed to the line of forty or so men waiting to make their sacrifice.
The young Indian boy stood in line with the Italian, holding a small doll as the girl led me up the steps of the temple. We stood off to the side, but I could see the drop box protruding from the wall, the men pitched their offerings into. Some just walked up and tossed them in and moved on. Others said a small succinct prayer before doing so. The Italian reached the box and paused. He muttered no prayers. He lowered his eyes and leaned against the wall. I could tell he was contemplating the decision. The girls face wrinkled. She wasn't very happy. "Why does one pause to save the lives of four hundred? At such a low price?"
And then I woke up. Great dream!
Had to share...
Category: Jobs, Work, Careers
Orignally Posted: Wednesday, October 10, 2007
So, every Tuesday for the last few weeks I go into work to help put away the bi-weekly grocery delivery on the overnight shift. It usually makes for great stories working the overnight shift because of the people that tend to stay up late are great stories within themselves. I've only been doing this the last few weeks for training purposes.
Since I became a manager many years ago, I haven't had many stories from this shift to relate, unless of course you count watching the night clerk...uh, former night clerk make a drug pass right in front of me or the night many, many years ago that a naked black man appeared in our doorway, flailed his arms and said that he hated his sister and then went running down the street with his little, tiny penis bouncing like a yo-yo...ah, what memories.
So while tonight's story isn't that grandiose, it was still pretty funny. It was one of those reality moments, y'know. A joke, a very old joke had come to life, right in front of my very eyes.
Here goes:A young lady came in to do some shopping and bought quite a few items. After her purchase was complete she grumbled that she had forgotten to get something. The clerk asked what it was and she said, "Oh, you don't wanna know."
"Well, yeah, I do, 'cause I need to ring it up," he replied.
She wandered away from the main part of the counter and whispered that she needed condoms. She indicated she wanted the purple box (Her Pleasure) when her boyfriend came up behind her and told her to get the extra-large ones.
She turned, looked him right in the eyes, and with a completely serious look on her face, she said,"You don't need those."
It took every ounce of strength in our muscles to not say a word and guffaw out loud. The clerk finished the sale and after they left we spewed. Too freakin' funny!
Category: Jobs, Work, Careers
Orignally Posted: Wednesday, October 10, 2007
So, every Tuesday for the last few weeks I go into work to help put away the bi-weekly grocery delivery on the overnight shift. It usually makes for great stories working the overnight shift because of the people that tend to stay up late are great stories within themselves. I've only been doing this the last few weeks for training purposes.
Since I became a manager many years ago, I haven't had many stories from this shift to relate, unless of course you count watching the night clerk...uh, former night clerk make a drug pass right in front of me or the night many, many years ago that a naked black man appeared in our doorway, flailed his arms and said that he hated his sister and then went running down the street with his little, tiny penis bouncing like a yo-yo...ah, what memories.
So while tonight's story isn't that grandiose, it was still pretty funny. It was one of those reality moments, y'know. A joke, a very old joke had come to life, right in front of my very eyes.
Here goes:A young lady came in to do some shopping and bought quite a few items. After her purchase was complete she grumbled that she had forgotten to get something. The clerk asked what it was and she said, "Oh, you don't wanna know."
"Well, yeah, I do, 'cause I need to ring it up," he replied.
She wandered away from the main part of the counter and whispered that she needed condoms. She indicated she wanted the purple box (Her Pleasure) when her boyfriend came up behind her and told her to get the extra-large ones.
She turned, looked him right in the eyes, and with a completely serious look on her face, she said,"You don't need those."
It took every ounce of strength in our muscles to not say a word and guffaw out loud. The clerk finished the sale and after they left we spewed. Too freakin' funny!
December 31, 2008: Wednesday
Rhinestone-speckled, tortoise-framed shades,
Come to my aid, come to my aid!
Dim the chaos of the threatening near,
Calm the tumult of the passing year.
Sweep with delight away visions done past,
Bring in the new and make it doth last.
Send me to places filled with right dreams,
Let reality supplant till bursting at seams.
Rhine-stone speckled, tortoise-framed shades,
May we seek together good fortune in spades.
Happy New Year!
January 1, 2009: Thursday
I must admit that my reality is tinted -- not suffused tawny amber as my lenses -- blushed remarkable instead by souls familiar resplendent. Angelic mortals are all of you -- whether vile or splendid, contentious or amicable -- it is my honour to be enlightened by your countenance. Thank you! Have a great afternoon!
January 2, 2009: Friday
Ashen, dusky, walking clouds girdled in apricot luminosity reflect off the lenses reclining on the dash. I peer into the failing blue and watch as Mother Nature mimics the work of Michelangelo. Good evening!
January 3, 2009: Saturday
No message. Busy day.
January 4, 2009: Sunday
Hurky jerky was the night,
Wracked with cough and putrid plight,
Senses desperate, please relieve,
NYQUIL! NYQUIL! NYQUIL! *wheeze*
My first text I received this almost sick-free morning was from my friend Robert. His puppy, Klaus, killed his sunglasses this morning. I read this text through the lenses of mine. Gently, I polished the amber glass slowly, showing much care and appreciation. I ensured them that Klaus was very, very far away. I'm a thousand percent better this morning. Good morning!
January 5, 2009: Monday
The weatherman says it will be cloudy for days. My sunglasses, while jubilant for the short vacation, will miss the view from atop my head. It will not miss, however, the smudgy fingerprints I always seem to cover them with while there. Good afternoon!
January 6, 2009: Tuesday
I'm a little worries about Erma. She took me off vaycay! Sumthin' bout the wetherman being rong. Is it my fault the wethrmn was rong!? oops, someones comming. Ciao, baby!
I want to apologize for the last text you received. I don't know who could have sent it. I was looking for my phone and I found it under my sunglasses. you don't think.... nah... couldn't be... Good morning!
Rhinestone-speckled, tortoise-framed shades,
Come to my aid, come to my aid!
Dim the chaos of the threatening near,
Calm the tumult of the passing year.
Sweep with delight away visions done past,
Bring in the new and make it doth last.
Send me to places filled with right dreams,
Let reality supplant till bursting at seams.
Rhine-stone speckled, tortoise-framed shades,
May we seek together good fortune in spades.
Happy New Year!
January 1, 2009: Thursday
I must admit that my reality is tinted -- not suffused tawny amber as my lenses -- blushed remarkable instead by souls familiar resplendent. Angelic mortals are all of you -- whether vile or splendid, contentious or amicable -- it is my honour to be enlightened by your countenance. Thank you! Have a great afternoon!
January 2, 2009: Friday
Ashen, dusky, walking clouds girdled in apricot luminosity reflect off the lenses reclining on the dash. I peer into the failing blue and watch as Mother Nature mimics the work of Michelangelo. Good evening!
January 3, 2009: Saturday
No message. Busy day.
January 4, 2009: Sunday
Hurky jerky was the night,
Wracked with cough and putrid plight,
Senses desperate, please relieve,
NYQUIL! NYQUIL! NYQUIL! *wheeze*
My first text I received this almost sick-free morning was from my friend Robert. His puppy, Klaus, killed his sunglasses this morning. I read this text through the lenses of mine. Gently, I polished the amber glass slowly, showing much care and appreciation. I ensured them that Klaus was very, very far away. I'm a thousand percent better this morning. Good morning!
January 5, 2009: Monday
The weatherman says it will be cloudy for days. My sunglasses, while jubilant for the short vacation, will miss the view from atop my head. It will not miss, however, the smudgy fingerprints I always seem to cover them with while there. Good afternoon!
January 6, 2009: Tuesday
I'm a little worries about Erma. She took me off vaycay! Sumthin' bout the wetherman being rong. Is it my fault the wethrmn was rong!? oops, someones comming. Ciao, baby!
I want to apologize for the last text you received. I don't know who could have sent it. I was looking for my phone and I found it under my sunglasses. you don't think.... nah... couldn't be... Good morning!
December 24, 2008: Wednesday
Neutral gray clouds swathe and cradle the light of the newborn SUN. Sprightly clutches of white nuzzle every nook and cranny of the immutable, dark, breast-peaked mountains. A coalescing of love, stemmed from the small joy of finding the perfect gift, from humming along with muzak-ed Christmas carols, from the planning of great feasts, and to the twittering anticipation of spiked eggnog, embrace our colour washed valley. My sunglasses and I hope the holidays have brought you as much love as the Universe is exhibiting.
December 25, 2008: Thursday
Seemingly about to be crushed by another despondent, cold, wintry day... my partner in frames draw my eyes to the horizon. There, I see the metaphoric future filled with bright, hopeful, optimistic days. So bright, in fact, that I pull my compadre down from their perch on my head and we finish the drive into work together, as one. Good morning! Merry Christmas to you who celebrate. My day is filled with effin'.... fun, family, feasting, friends and film. Would you like to join us for the film?
December 26, 2008: Friday
Conversing with Caeious at the BBC, I see no reason to remove my sunglasses since the sun streams so very strongly here. He, the young sun, is brilliant today as the breath of the Goddess sweeps out the old year to make way for the new. It's beautiful how they work in tandem with one another to accomplish their goal, isn't it? Good afternoon!
December 27, 2008: Saturday
Yellowing mulberry leaves crunch underfoot. The air is medicinally crisp and soothes the breath and the lungs. The sun touches warm the bits of exposed flesh from under winter layers. My sunglasses are cool to the touch on my brow and temples. It's like we've travelled back into time and it's now the perfect autumn day. Good afternoon.
December 28, 2008: Sunday
I didn't pause to don my friends this morning, so my brow creased: my eyes sliver thin. I worry today. Finally, they call out... literally (probably all the attention they've had as of late) and I put them on allowing for the slow relaxation of all my eye and facial muscles. I finish my ride into work. I'm fine. I hope you are, too. Good morning.
December 29, 2008: Monday
This morning, on my way into work, my sunglasses and I witnessed a group of friends standing on a street corner engaged in raucous laughter. So cacophonous was their revelry that I heard it over the thrum of the engine, through the warm, glass-enclosed cab of the truck, and over the news whispering their stories in my ear. We saw a young cowboy-to-be riding a pale, chestnut horse with his father, a smile stretched from ear to ear. What a great way to start the week. Good afternoon.
December 30, 2008: Tuesday
Frosted windshields and tips of grass encapsulated in icy prisms reveal the gelid nature of the night. Contrails crisscross the glacial blue sky above. The warmth of my breath fog the lenses of my sunglasses as I put them on to face the rarely seen early morning sun. Today is poetry day with Sue at ReJavanate. You are more than welcome to join. Good morning.
Neutral gray clouds swathe and cradle the light of the newborn SUN. Sprightly clutches of white nuzzle every nook and cranny of the immutable, dark, breast-peaked mountains. A coalescing of love, stemmed from the small joy of finding the perfect gift, from humming along with muzak-ed Christmas carols, from the planning of great feasts, and to the twittering anticipation of spiked eggnog, embrace our colour washed valley. My sunglasses and I hope the holidays have brought you as much love as the Universe is exhibiting.
December 25, 2008: Thursday
Seemingly about to be crushed by another despondent, cold, wintry day... my partner in frames draw my eyes to the horizon. There, I see the metaphoric future filled with bright, hopeful, optimistic days. So bright, in fact, that I pull my compadre down from their perch on my head and we finish the drive into work together, as one. Good morning! Merry Christmas to you who celebrate. My day is filled with effin'.... fun, family, feasting, friends and film. Would you like to join us for the film?
December 26, 2008: Friday
Conversing with Caeious at the BBC, I see no reason to remove my sunglasses since the sun streams so very strongly here. He, the young sun, is brilliant today as the breath of the Goddess sweeps out the old year to make way for the new. It's beautiful how they work in tandem with one another to accomplish their goal, isn't it? Good afternoon!
December 27, 2008: Saturday
Yellowing mulberry leaves crunch underfoot. The air is medicinally crisp and soothes the breath and the lungs. The sun touches warm the bits of exposed flesh from under winter layers. My sunglasses are cool to the touch on my brow and temples. It's like we've travelled back into time and it's now the perfect autumn day. Good afternoon.
December 28, 2008: Sunday
I didn't pause to don my friends this morning, so my brow creased: my eyes sliver thin. I worry today. Finally, they call out... literally (probably all the attention they've had as of late) and I put them on allowing for the slow relaxation of all my eye and facial muscles. I finish my ride into work. I'm fine. I hope you are, too. Good morning.
December 29, 2008: Monday
This morning, on my way into work, my sunglasses and I witnessed a group of friends standing on a street corner engaged in raucous laughter. So cacophonous was their revelry that I heard it over the thrum of the engine, through the warm, glass-enclosed cab of the truck, and over the news whispering their stories in my ear. We saw a young cowboy-to-be riding a pale, chestnut horse with his father, a smile stretched from ear to ear. What a great way to start the week. Good afternoon.
December 30, 2008: Tuesday
Frosted windshields and tips of grass encapsulated in icy prisms reveal the gelid nature of the night. Contrails crisscross the glacial blue sky above. The warmth of my breath fog the lenses of my sunglasses as I put them on to face the rarely seen early morning sun. Today is poetry day with Sue at ReJavanate. You are more than welcome to join. Good morning.
Malignant Fantasy
originally posted Thursday, September 13, 2007
Tonight I found this on the Link station and was riveted to my chair for the hour and a half it was on. I've read Sam Harris' books and have to say that afterwards I wanted to be an atheist...but decided I didn't want to give up the beauty of ritual and mythology the Craft affords. Shame, too, I would've made a good one.
It is his closing statement that propelled me to type it up and blog it for all of you to read. Let me know what you think. I personally loved it!
Truthdig Debate "Religion, Politics and the End of the World" on May 22, 2007.
Sam Harris' Closing Statement
"Let me give you a sense of what it's like to be me having this conversation. It seems to be we could have been having this conversation 500 years ago. Life was difficult 500 years ago, there was a lot of despair. There are crops [that] failed, disease spread, people suffered just instantaneous and catastrophic changes in their fortune and it well under the cause of all this, actually was well understood 500 years ago.
It was witchcraft.
And happily the church had produced some very energetic men who had the gumption to deal with this problem and so every year, some hundreds and sometimes thousands of women were burned alive for casting spells on their neighbors.
Now, imagine what it would be like to be among the 5 or 10 percent of people, at most, who recognized that the very belief in magic, the very belief in witchcraft, the very belief in good witches or bad witches was a malignant fantasy. That the white witches who were helping people with medicinal herbs and practicing midwifery were on no firmer ground than the black witches who were casting the evil eye. The whole belief system was at fault. Imagine the kind of criticism you're going to get.
"No, no, you're problem is with a kind of fundamentalist witchcraft. The reality is witchcraft is more far nuanced than that. There's no conflict between science and witchcraft. Science deals with physical law and physical causality and witchcraft deals with potent spells and the internal connections between things."
This idea that somehow we shouldn't call into question these patently bad ideas for fear of offending people, for fear of glossing over their despair, for fear of not criticizing other problems in the world - I would never argue that religion is the only problem in the world or the only source o f human conflict-but it IS a source and we are mightily attached to it, emotionally attached to it and we are loathe to criticize it even when it is declaring its ugliest intentions and its ugliest certainties. The problem with the bible is however you pick and choose; whether you're a literalist or a selective literalist, the problem is there's just a mountain of divisive nonsense in there and that's where people get ideas about homosexuality being an abomination and why our country in the 21st century debates gay marriage as though it were the great moral issue of our time. This is coming from religion and it seems to me it's time we had an honest conversation about that."
originally posted Thursday, September 13, 2007
Tonight I found this on the Link station and was riveted to my chair for the hour and a half it was on. I've read Sam Harris' books and have to say that afterwards I wanted to be an atheist...but decided I didn't want to give up the beauty of ritual and mythology the Craft affords. Shame, too, I would've made a good one.
It is his closing statement that propelled me to type it up and blog it for all of you to read. Let me know what you think. I personally loved it!
Truthdig Debate "Religion, Politics and the End of the World" on May 22, 2007.
Sam Harris' Closing Statement
"Let me give you a sense of what it's like to be me having this conversation. It seems to be we could have been having this conversation 500 years ago. Life was difficult 500 years ago, there was a lot of despair. There are crops [that] failed, disease spread, people suffered just instantaneous and catastrophic changes in their fortune and it well under the cause of all this, actually was well understood 500 years ago.
It was witchcraft.
And happily the church had produced some very energetic men who had the gumption to deal with this problem and so every year, some hundreds and sometimes thousands of women were burned alive for casting spells on their neighbors.
Now, imagine what it would be like to be among the 5 or 10 percent of people, at most, who recognized that the very belief in magic, the very belief in witchcraft, the very belief in good witches or bad witches was a malignant fantasy. That the white witches who were helping people with medicinal herbs and practicing midwifery were on no firmer ground than the black witches who were casting the evil eye. The whole belief system was at fault. Imagine the kind of criticism you're going to get.
"No, no, you're problem is with a kind of fundamentalist witchcraft. The reality is witchcraft is more far nuanced than that. There's no conflict between science and witchcraft. Science deals with physical law and physical causality and witchcraft deals with potent spells and the internal connections between things."
This idea that somehow we shouldn't call into question these patently bad ideas for fear of offending people, for fear of glossing over their despair, for fear of not criticizing other problems in the world - I would never argue that religion is the only problem in the world or the only source o f human conflict-but it IS a source and we are mightily attached to it, emotionally attached to it and we are loathe to criticize it even when it is declaring its ugliest intentions and its ugliest certainties. The problem with the bible is however you pick and choose; whether you're a literalist or a selective literalist, the problem is there's just a mountain of divisive nonsense in there and that's where people get ideas about homosexuality being an abomination and why our country in the 21st century debates gay marriage as though it were the great moral issue of our time. This is coming from religion and it seems to me it's time we had an honest conversation about that."
(1510 Woodcut Illustration)
Here are some more quotes I found to be great. There's a lot more but it's late and I'm tired so maybe more later.
"I'm extremely worried about the role religion is playing in our world. I happen to think that faith based religion is the most divisive and dangerous ideology we have ever concocted and it keeps me awake at night. As someone who has been doing this for awhile, ever since 9-11 when those 19 guys showed our pious nation just how socially beneficial religion certainty can be I have argued against the role that religion is playing in our societies. "
"Even if we knew that one of our religions was perfectly true; even if we knew that this was God's multiple choice exam:
"Is it A: Judaism B: Christianity C: Islam?"
Even if we knew one was perfect-given the bewildering profusion of doctrines on offer; given their mutual incompatibility; every believer should expect damnation purely as a matter of probability. It seems to me that this should give religious people pause when they espouse their certainties. It never does, but it should."
"Christianity is founded on the claim that the gospel account of the miracles of Jesus is true...Most Christians most of the time take some complement of these miracles as true and most important seems to be the resurrection. Now the problem with this is that the only thing that testifies to these miracles ever having occurred is the gospel. There's no extra biblical description of these events. Everyone agrees that the gospels were written decades after the events they report, the earliest gospels. The problem is is that even if the evidence were much better than that; even if we had hundreds of contemporaneous eyewitness accounts of these miracles-that would still be not-still not be good enough evidence to cash out the claims of Christianity.
Why not?
Well, the problem is that in the 21st century, reports of miracles are still quite common. I have met literally hundreds of Western educated men and women who think that their favorite Hindu or Buddhist guru has magic powers. The reports of miracles are quite current. There are Hindu yogis and mystics that reportedly walk on water and raise the dead and fly without the aid of technology and read minds and divine the future. Take someone like Sathya Sai Baba, the South Indian guru. All of these miracles are attributed to him. He even claims to have been born of a virgin, which incidentally is not a such a rare claim in the history of religion or in history generally. Genghis Khan was supposedly born of a virgin. Alexander the Great was born of a virgin. Parthenogenesis does not guarantee you're going to turn the other cheek apparently. So consider this, Sathya Sai Baba has these miracles attributed to him by literally thousands upon thousands of living eyewitnesses. He is not the David Koresh of Hinduism. His devotees threw a birthday party for him a few years ago and a million people showed up. There are millions of people who believe he is a living god.
Now, so consider as though for the first time the foundational claim of Christianity. The claim is that miracle stories of a sort that surround a person like Sathya Sai Baba today which are compelling to no one apart from his devotees suddenly become especially credible if you place them in the pre-scientific religious context of the first century Roman Empire decades after their supposed occurrence. Sathya Sai Baba's miracles don't even merit an hour on the Discovery Channel and yet place these miracles in an ancient text and half the people on this earth think it a legitimate project to organize their lives around them does anyone else see a problem with that? "
"When you hear someone arguing for the link between the morality and religion or the fact that it gives people meaning in their lives; this is an argument for the usefulness and this is not an argument for the plausibility of any specific religious doctrine. The other problem with the arguing for the usefulness of religion is that the dangers of religion are testified to now on a daily basis by bomb blasts.
How useful is it that million of Muslims in this world believe in the metaphysics of martyrdom? How useful is it that the Shiite and the Sunni in Iraq have such heartfelt religious differences? How useful is it that so many Jewish settlers think that the creator of the universe promised them a patch of desert on the Mediterranean?
How useful has Christianity's anxiety about sex been these last 70 generations?"
Visit Sam Harris' page here: http://www.samharris.org/ or go and watch the whole debate for yourself here:
http://www.truthdig.com/avbooth/item/20070617_religion_politics_and_the_end_of_the_world/
Brought to you by your friendly neighborhood witch, Atheona
Here are some more quotes I found to be great. There's a lot more but it's late and I'm tired so maybe more later.
"I'm extremely worried about the role religion is playing in our world. I happen to think that faith based religion is the most divisive and dangerous ideology we have ever concocted and it keeps me awake at night. As someone who has been doing this for awhile, ever since 9-11 when those 19 guys showed our pious nation just how socially beneficial religion certainty can be I have argued against the role that religion is playing in our societies. "
"Even if we knew that one of our religions was perfectly true; even if we knew that this was God's multiple choice exam:
"Is it A: Judaism B: Christianity C: Islam?"
Even if we knew one was perfect-given the bewildering profusion of doctrines on offer; given their mutual incompatibility; every believer should expect damnation purely as a matter of probability. It seems to me that this should give religious people pause when they espouse their certainties. It never does, but it should."
"Christianity is founded on the claim that the gospel account of the miracles of Jesus is true...Most Christians most of the time take some complement of these miracles as true and most important seems to be the resurrection. Now the problem with this is that the only thing that testifies to these miracles ever having occurred is the gospel. There's no extra biblical description of these events. Everyone agrees that the gospels were written decades after the events they report, the earliest gospels. The problem is is that even if the evidence were much better than that; even if we had hundreds of contemporaneous eyewitness accounts of these miracles-that would still be not-still not be good enough evidence to cash out the claims of Christianity.
Why not?
Well, the problem is that in the 21st century, reports of miracles are still quite common. I have met literally hundreds of Western educated men and women who think that their favorite Hindu or Buddhist guru has magic powers. The reports of miracles are quite current. There are Hindu yogis and mystics that reportedly walk on water and raise the dead and fly without the aid of technology and read minds and divine the future. Take someone like Sathya Sai Baba, the South Indian guru. All of these miracles are attributed to him. He even claims to have been born of a virgin, which incidentally is not a such a rare claim in the history of religion or in history generally. Genghis Khan was supposedly born of a virgin. Alexander the Great was born of a virgin. Parthenogenesis does not guarantee you're going to turn the other cheek apparently. So consider this, Sathya Sai Baba has these miracles attributed to him by literally thousands upon thousands of living eyewitnesses. He is not the David Koresh of Hinduism. His devotees threw a birthday party for him a few years ago and a million people showed up. There are millions of people who believe he is a living god.
Now, so consider as though for the first time the foundational claim of Christianity. The claim is that miracle stories of a sort that surround a person like Sathya Sai Baba today which are compelling to no one apart from his devotees suddenly become especially credible if you place them in the pre-scientific religious context of the first century Roman Empire decades after their supposed occurrence. Sathya Sai Baba's miracles don't even merit an hour on the Discovery Channel and yet place these miracles in an ancient text and half the people on this earth think it a legitimate project to organize their lives around them does anyone else see a problem with that? "
"When you hear someone arguing for the link between the morality and religion or the fact that it gives people meaning in their lives; this is an argument for the usefulness and this is not an argument for the plausibility of any specific religious doctrine. The other problem with the arguing for the usefulness of religion is that the dangers of religion are testified to now on a daily basis by bomb blasts.
How useful is it that million of Muslims in this world believe in the metaphysics of martyrdom? How useful is it that the Shiite and the Sunni in Iraq have such heartfelt religious differences? How useful is it that so many Jewish settlers think that the creator of the universe promised them a patch of desert on the Mediterranean?
How useful has Christianity's anxiety about sex been these last 70 generations?"
Visit Sam Harris' page here: http://www.samharris.org/ or go and watch the whole debate for yourself here:
http://www.truthdig.com/avbooth/item/20070617_religion_politics_and_the_end_of_the_world/
Brought to you by your friendly neighborhood witch, Atheona
This Week, Loyalty, Hitler, Bugs, One-upsmanship, Republicans, Undead, Firefly
Originally posted Sept. 9, 2007
The Mentor's word of the day is omnipotent. My word this week is YUP.yup [yuhp]
–adverb, noun Informal.
yes, also yep
My week was nice. Sunday was family day ; Monday I trained someone new in cashiering techniques, while experiencing horror and dread feelings; unrelated. Tuesday I watched my niece. Wednesday Jerry Springer visited. Thursday I got my hearing checked, taught a great class, and single-handedly destroyed the retail business for Mondays trainee to where they'll never work again. Friday I got to see my Lady after a week without. and Saturday I was surrounded by hyperactive midget-like wrestlers. My ears are perfect...the world is too noisy, according to my doctor.
So on Wednesday, the new girl I hired, who was still in training (and nope! I did not hire the NOPE girl) was alone for no more... and I mean no more than 30 SECONDS when the 3rd clerk came into the back yelling about how the "new girl" was wailing on someone in the parking lot. She's so new no one had yet even tried to remember her name yet.
Both a man and woman had just walked into the store. My girl pushed the other outside where she promptly fell. Punching and kicking ensued. All from my girl. All other customers stood and watched, EVEN the young woman's companion. Not only did they watch, they watched from the safety within the store, including the companion.
I pull 'new girl' by her apron strings off fetal girl who is pinned between the concrete bumper and a truck bumper looking like the roly-poly bugs we used to abuse...uh, I mean play with, wen we were kids - and shove her into the back room of the store with admonitions of "W T F?!!" She is apologizing to no end, stating she knows she has lost her job, how she can't believe she did that, sorry, so sorry...., while trainer is insuring the other combatant is okay. It takes 'new girl' 20 whole minutes to calm, catch breath and say yes to "Did she sleep with your man?" It was actually with her baby's daddy.
Roly poly girl was my girl's friend before my girl had even met her baby's daddy and I guess thought it was OK to sleep with him since they didn't marry.
This is why women will never rule the world. This is why Hillary will never be elected. There are too many women in the world....no!...there are too many people in the world willing to stab someone else in the back for a piece of ass. Too many people form opinions with their genitalia and disregard all the other warning signs. I see it every day...every freaking day. Loyalty to anything is gone, almost completely.
Am I a hypocrite? Yup. Aren't we all?
Remember the kid with the conflicts of wanting to study Wicca? He's been a frequent visitor this week and Monday was espousing his admiration and desire to become like Hitler.
H-I-T-L-E-R!
Did all my opinions on Hitler perhaps being a necessary evil come to a bone-jarring, shift it into reverse, back the f$k up, reverse, non-disclosure, shut the hel up - stop? Yup!
He has since clarified that it is the coming from nothing and ruling the world aspect of Hitler he admires. I suggested another role model. I suggested to stop using the name Hitler, especially since he's Hispanic. Holy crap! Was I relieved?
Yup. Somewhat.
The other new trainee experienced a full day of working magic and was not used to the problems of society and lack of common sense dealing with such problems working in this kind of job that we see all the time. By late afternoon on her second day, she had had enough and I'm pretty sure will always be too busy to partake in the endeavor ever again. She's retired from her everyday work. Will I ever ask her to work again? Yup.
Class had missed a beat when it came to completing certain tasks but otherwise the class was good. As well informed I am of the world, I did not know this.
Scientists find clue in mystery of the vanishing bees
Synopsis: Colony collapse disorder has killed millions of bees -- up to 90 percent of colonies in some U.S. beekeeping operations -- imperiling the crops largely dependent upon bees for pollination...disorder were first reported in the United States in 2004, the same year American beekeepers started importing bees from Australia...For some reason, the Australian bees seem to be resistant to IAPV and do not come down with symptoms...IAPV was present in bees that had come from colony collapse disorder hives 96 percent of the time..."There are no cases ... in Australia at all,"...Bee researchers will now look for stresses that may combine to kill bees..."The next step is to ascertain whether IAPV, alone or in concert with other factors, can induce CCD [colony collapse disorder] in healthy bees."
Am I glad they found the actual culprit of major bee colony loss? Yup.
There were reports circulating that the massive amounts of cell phones and towers to support them were the actual assassins. I can now use my cell phone without guilt for aiding and abetting hundreds and thousands of murders. Whew! I love my cell phone! Do I think there still may be problems stemming from the immense increase of these babies so rapidly? Yup. But I really like bees, so I'm glad for that.
My favorite bug of all time is the praying mantis and not because of the sex thing, sickos! They are so alien looking. I watched one grooming its antennae for two hours once. I think I was stoned, but it was too cool! It just went back and forth, one antenna, then the other. As my fourth grade English teacher would say (and made me write a hundred times) ...."Small things amuse small minds." Did I receive this punishment because of my genitalia and a boy? Yup.
At the party I attended yesterday surrounded by over sugared children I overheard a conversation about a woman who just got her new car with key-less entry. 'Too cool', would've been my reaction with a friend of mine. Her friend talked about how they didn't offer that when she went to get her car. The other said it was on a lease. The reply was, "Well, I payed cash for mine!"
Am I just as guilty? Yup. Aren't we all?
I try not to be because I recognize it now. Most people don't. But even I, Ms. Most Holier Than Thou, just last Friday, when upon hearing about a young fellow who got hit in the eye with a rock, I immediately relayed MY story of how I got hit in the eye with a rock. I was only five of course, but I spent two weeks in the hospital, blinded. I'm good now. I should probably apologize. I think I will.
This week on KNPR I listened to an interview on "Fresh Air" with Charlie Savage who just wrote a new book called 'Takeover : The Return of the Imperial Presidency and the Subversion of American Democracy . Mr. Savage was awarded a 2007 Pulitzer Prize for his work on presidential signing statements.
Synopsis: Cheney, as the puppeteer, and other Republican loyalists are diligently working to regain the supremacy of the presidency restored to balance after the Nixon scandal. There's a movie out called 'American Dreamz' starring Hugh Grant and Willem Defoe that depicts this relationship hilariously.
Bush challenges hundreds of laws
(By Charlie Savage, Globe Staff, 4/30/06) WASHINGTON -- President Bush has quietly claimed the authority to disobey more than 750 laws enacted since he took office, asserting that he has the power to set aside any statute passed by Congress when it conflicts with his interpretation of the Constitution.I watched a great Zombie movie this week called Undead. It came out in 2003. It's Australian. The character of Marion reminded me of you, Mentor. Too funny!
I also watched the 13th Warrior again this week. God I love that movie, altho' us pagans would probably want to disown the Venus of Willendorf afterwords. Just not fair, pitting pagan against pagan, with a follower of one God as Switzerland.
Okay, it's fair.
Did you know that Dark Horse put out a three part comic book to link the Firefly series to the Serenity movie? I did not. Where the hell have I been? Anyhow, went searching. E-bay has a few. three days left, I'm a swoop-er so I'll wait. I found a Nathan Fillion signed copy for $129.50 Holy Crap! I really like Nathan Fillion but jeez! I bet he danced around in his underwear all day when he saw that. Would I normally pay that much for that crap?
Yup.
Shameful, I know.
IMPROVISE! ADAPT! OVERCOME! HOO-RAH!
January 15, 2009: Thursday
Observations on my way to work:
1) glittering diamonds dust the urban desert
2) golden globes stand stoicly at intermittent intervals
3) windsocks unbidden hang slack from their weathered posts
4) small serpentine lakes burgeon with life
My sunglasses tell me this is what I really saw:
1) broken bottle shards litter vacant, unkempt lots
2) dried out sagebrush on the verge of becoming those diabolical tumbleweeds
3) plastic bag fragments stuck on said tumbleweeds and other dead or dying trees
4) stagnant ponds of putrid water overwhelmed with flies and other bugs
I think I'll keep my sunglasses on. Good morning!
Observations on my way to work:
1) glittering diamonds dust the urban desert
2) golden globes stand stoicly at intermittent intervals
3) windsocks unbidden hang slack from their weathered posts
4) small serpentine lakes burgeon with life
My sunglasses tell me this is what I really saw:
1) broken bottle shards litter vacant, unkempt lots
2) dried out sagebrush on the verge of becoming those diabolical tumbleweeds
3) plastic bag fragments stuck on said tumbleweeds and other dead or dying trees
4) stagnant ponds of putrid water overwhelmed with flies and other bugs
I think I'll keep my sunglasses on. Good morning!
The Mentor's word for the day is 'dactylology.' Mine is the word 'nope.'
nope (nôp)
adverb
Informal No.
These were actual answers on an application I received from a 25 year old female.
Ever convicted of a felony? nope
Ever been discharged involuntarily? nope
Are you currently in school? nope
Do you have reliable transportation? nope, don't drive
Too funny!
Nope rhymes with dope, dope makes you stupid... at least from what I remember.
Am I gonna hire her? nope
Another interesting word: affrèrement - "brotherhood" - "brothers" pledged to live together sharing 'un pain, un vin, et une bourse' -- one bread, one wine, and one purse. Sworn before a notary and required witnesses, all of their goods usually became the joint property of both parties, and each commonly became the others legal heir. . . from Medieval times.
I'm not gay but I support their right to become "brothers" or "sisters."
I'm attempting to close the door on an ex-boyfriend. It's been what, about six months and he still won't let go. Yesterday, perhaps, was the last of it. I hope so. I doubt it. I know the power of positive thought. I've done spells and believe you me, they've worked beyond belief but I've deliberately avoided being malicious and want to keep doing so. I had one work before I even lit the damn candle. I was amazed, even though I've been doing this for forever.
I've had offers from several witch friends which I've refused. Lessons aren't learned if you're forever sloughing off responsibility. Revenge is also not so sweet... although upon returning the last of items to said ex- my accompaniment decided to see if he held any papers I may have needed and found within his clutches many a jewelry item and magical tool I thought were long gone. Bastard!
Are you still gonna Not curse his ass?? nope
I have another outlet for such dastardly deeds.
I worked the candle store today. It was slow. I had a young man come in to chat for a while. He seemed nice.
Although raised Catholic/Christian very drawn to the Craft. Has dilemma about attraction, from friends and from within//upbringing. I hope I helped. Met some people who were in classes before I ever joined. She was going to buy a necklace I decided I wanted and prayed she wouldn't buy it so I could. She didn't. 
Found something else instead. They were really nice and still practice regularly. Quite rare from where I stand. Many leave and no longer practice. What's up with that? Am I shocked by it? nope
Autumn equinox is up and coming soon. Same as my birthday. I'll be forty. 40! Holy crapola. I definitely don't feel 40. I'm gonna have a big party. My mom will cook Thai food. It'll be a toga party. Sue said she would help. I can't wait. Forty. Wow.
Been looking for music appropriate without being too cheesy. May have to write something instead. Found one called The Autumn Effect by 10 Years. May be a little dark but seems quite appropriate even though it is on the dark side. It is the waning half of the year; a time of repose.
Gotta couple of calls for jobs. Love it. I should have place-card orders coming soon too. I love my work. As soon as my stint is done here at the BBC I should be able to have more time to get some long awaited projects completed. Look for old and new artwork to be posted soon.
Did ya see Les Toil commented my page?
How nice was that? All I need now is John Romita, Todd McFarlane, Luis Royo, and Vallejo and I'll be in heaven. Is it just me or am I the only artist that thinks Picasso sucks? 
Is that sacrilege? Not a big fan of Van Gogh either. Give me Raphael or Michelangelo any day. Heck, I even like Thomas Kinkade. I've always thought of abstract artists and those that display paint splatter as posers. Not enough discipline for classical works. Just my opinion. I wish I could charge 50 thousand dollars for a red canvas. Just bullshit! Would I get away with it? NOPE! 
originally posted August 17th, 2007
nope (nôp)
adverb
Informal No.
These were actual answers on an application I received from a 25 year old female.
Ever convicted of a felony? nope
Ever been discharged involuntarily? nope
Are you currently in school? nope
Do you have reliable transportation? nope, don't drive
Too funny!
Nope rhymes with dope, dope makes you stupid... at least from what I remember.
Am I gonna hire her? nope
Another interesting word: affrèrement - "brotherhood" - "brothers" pledged to live together sharing 'un pain, un vin, et une bourse' -- one bread, one wine, and one purse. Sworn before a notary and required witnesses, all of their goods usually became the joint property of both parties, and each commonly became the others legal heir. . . from Medieval times.
I'm not gay but I support their right to become "brothers" or "sisters."
I'm attempting to close the door on an ex-boyfriend. It's been what, about six months and he still won't let go. Yesterday, perhaps, was the last of it. I hope so. I doubt it. I know the power of positive thought. I've done spells and believe you me, they've worked beyond belief but I've deliberately avoided being malicious and want to keep doing so. I had one work before I even lit the damn candle. I was amazed, even though I've been doing this for forever.
I've had offers from several witch friends which I've refused. Lessons aren't learned if you're forever sloughing off responsibility. Revenge is also not so sweet... although upon returning the last of items to said ex- my accompaniment decided to see if he held any papers I may have needed and found within his clutches many a jewelry item and magical tool I thought were long gone. Bastard!
Are you still gonna Not curse his ass?? nope
I have another outlet for such dastardly deeds.
I worked the candle store today. It was slow. I had a young man come in to chat for a while. He seemed nice.
Although raised Catholic/Christian very drawn to the Craft. Has dilemma about attraction, from friends and from within//upbringing. I hope I helped. Met some people who were in classes before I ever joined. She was going to buy a necklace I decided I wanted and prayed she wouldn't buy it so I could. She didn't. Found something else instead. They were really nice and still practice regularly. Quite rare from where I stand. Many leave and no longer practice. What's up with that? Am I shocked by it? nope Autumn equinox is up and coming soon. Same as my birthday. I'll be forty. 40! Holy crapola. I definitely don't feel 40. I'm gonna have a big party. My mom will cook Thai food. It'll be a toga party. Sue said she would help. I can't wait. Forty. Wow.
Been looking for music appropriate without being too cheesy. May have to write something instead. Found one called The Autumn Effect by 10 Years. May be a little dark but seems quite appropriate even though it is on the dark side. It is the waning half of the year; a time of repose.
Gotta couple of calls for jobs. Love it. I should have place-card orders coming soon too. I love my work. As soon as my stint is done here at the BBC I should be able to have more time to get some long awaited projects completed. Look for old and new artwork to be posted soon.
Did ya see Les Toil commented my page?
How nice was that? All I need now is John Romita, Todd McFarlane, Luis Royo, and Vallejo and I'll be in heaven. Is it just me or am I the only artist that thinks Picasso sucks? Is that sacrilege? Not a big fan of Van Gogh either. Give me Raphael or Michelangelo any day. Heck, I even like Thomas Kinkade. I've always thought of abstract artists and those that display paint splatter as posers. Not enough discipline for classical works. Just my opinion. I wish I could charge 50 thousand dollars for a red canvas. Just bullshit! Would I get away with it? NOPE! originally posted August 17th, 2007
For a little over a month now, I've been sending out 'good morning' text messages for those who wished to receive them. It started out as a single line of "good morning" to a few close friends, but on the day of our snowfall, the day was so overwhelmingly gray, I felt the urge to add some prose (or what I call, "prose crap.") This, of course, stirred the competitive nature within me to one-up myself for the prose of the next day. And so, what began as a horrible reason to write flamboyantly, has turned into the sunglasses saga, sticking to the theme of the very first one. I find it is useful for practicing my vocabulary skills and to experiment with different styles of prose. The list of just a handful who receive these messages has grown to over 25. If you wish to receive these 'good morning' texts (on some occassions 'good afternoon' and even a 'good evening' or two) then send me a note with your phone number, including area code, and I'll add you to the queue. Isn't unlimited text-ing great? Or... Just become a follower here and come check in daily. If you currently follow and wish to get off the list, just let me know. Thanks! And enjoy!
December 17th, 2008: Wednesday
Good morning on this gray wintery day. Need some sunshine? I'll smile for ya! :-) My sunglasses sit perched upon my dash reveling in the opportunity to watch the world go by unemcumbered by the act of being used. The bleak landscapes thrill them to no end.
December 18, 2008: Thursday
The morning sunlit glare off of snow-washed windshields forced me to don my vacationing sunglasses, much to their chagrin. It's time off did nothing to quell it's talent and skill for shading my eyes. I am grateful for such a loyal minion. :-) Good morning.
December 19, 2008: Friday
I'm starting to wonder if what I decide to spy upon during my trek to work is what I truly desire or what my sunglasses wish to view. (I watched a tamale vendor for far too long this morning, I almost missed the light.) And... I swear I heard, "Hrmph! Minion, indeed!" Good morning. I am working the BBC today.
December 20, 2008: Saturday
Since in such splendid repose- and in the knowledge that they were vigilant in their garrison throughout the night, I decided to forgo disturbing my friend thinking to myself that a little squinting wouldn't hurt me.
"Oh, yes it will," I imagined them saying and so quickly snatched them from the dash to relieve my forming wrinkles. Today is sabbat! Yay! Good morning.
December 21, 2008: Sunday
Today my shaded spectacles pull double-duty as hair band so that they may be available at a moments notice. Are all lights uncanilly bright after a late night sabbat? I wonder.
"Yes," is the reply from somewhere above me.
They would know.
Today is my sister's birthday! Good afternoon!
December 22, 2008: Monday
We will be inseperable for the week during daylight hours. Much shopping and searching to be done. Isn't this the best time of year? When "goodwill towards men" is the norm? When I smile at my fellow man, my glasses rise up on my cheeks in greeting as well. Good morning.
December 23, 2008: Tuesday
They must have witnessed great craziness this morning judging by the mess in the street. When questioned, my sunglasses held their secret. I placed them upon my eyes to see if the rapport we had developed was supernatural. Still... Nothing. You have to admire their fortitude. Good morning.
Erma Zurita,
sent with my iPhone
Yesterday, I went to see the movie, "The Unborn." It was horrible. If you saw the previews, you've pretty much seen the movie. I promise. Many people said they were freaked, scared, frightened. A young man in the elevator said, "I was scared. I'm not gonna lie." He lied. Even my companion said she was scared. Really? Why? We've seen scarier scenes during a Ouija board session. With experts. In a protective ring. With a master nearby. Here... I'll give it away. Go google the word "dybbuk." Reading through two or three top results is guaranteed to scare you more than the movie itself, I promise.
But it wasn't horrible just as a movie itself. It was also horrible as a whole movie going experience. First, the theatre was packed. Good thing my other friend decided against it. Definitely wouldn't have been pleasant for him. That didn't bother me much. What did bother me were the jokers who believed short scream bursts and talking to the screen added to every one's enjoyment. From somewhere uncomfortably close came, "Don't do it, you stupid bitch."
Really?
I said something. There was an apology. It didn't happen again. Not from them, anyway, but no one else had any qualms about voicing their thoughts, apprehensions, or self-imposed fears. And while normally, I get really irritated by those who decide to text (too many to count), or play a video game (one that I saw), or even talk on their cell phone during a movie, I found them a comforting distraction this time around. I have to stop going to the movies in my neighborhood.
But I love my neighborhood.... or I think I love my neighborhood. I don't love that the only coffee shop wihin 5 miles of me, discounting small casinos and the like, is a Starbucks right next to a freeway on-ramp. I don't love that the only kinds of conversations I have with people from my neighborhood consist of, "Can I bum a smoke?" or "You got any change?" or "Hey, whaddup?" ...and no, that's not a racial remark. I don't love that either... that I have to qualify that it wasn't a racial remark. On voting day... V-O-T-I-N-G D-A-Y... I stopped in a small store to pick up a few items on the way to take a friend to V-O-T-E and a young lady and her brother came in ecstatic. They, then indulged everyone in the store with their prediction that Obama would win. I smiled, knowing I had played my part and then indicated to the clerk what I needed and the lady verbally accosted me with, "What?! What?! What did you say?! You got somethin' to say to me and my brother?"
Really?
But then, I get that in whatever part of town I'm in and I don't love it when they do think its racial and then agree. That's even worse, I think. More than just being a chip on the shoulder. That's just pure racism.
*sigh*
But it wasn't horrible just as a movie itself. It was also horrible as a whole movie going experience. First, the theatre was packed. Good thing my other friend decided against it. Definitely wouldn't have been pleasant for him. That didn't bother me much. What did bother me were the jokers who believed short scream bursts and talking to the screen added to every one's enjoyment. From somewhere uncomfortably close came, "Don't do it, you stupid bitch."
Really?
I said something. There was an apology. It didn't happen again. Not from them, anyway, but no one else had any qualms about voicing their thoughts, apprehensions, or self-imposed fears. And while normally, I get really irritated by those who decide to text (too many to count), or play a video game (one that I saw), or even talk on their cell phone during a movie, I found them a comforting distraction this time around. I have to stop going to the movies in my neighborhood.
But I love my neighborhood.... or I think I love my neighborhood. I don't love that the only coffee shop wihin 5 miles of me, discounting small casinos and the like, is a Starbucks right next to a freeway on-ramp. I don't love that the only kinds of conversations I have with people from my neighborhood consist of, "Can I bum a smoke?" or "You got any change?" or "Hey, whaddup?" ...and no, that's not a racial remark. I don't love that either... that I have to qualify that it wasn't a racial remark. On voting day... V-O-T-I-N-G D-A-Y... I stopped in a small store to pick up a few items on the way to take a friend to V-O-T-E and a young lady and her brother came in ecstatic. They, then indulged everyone in the store with their prediction that Obama would win. I smiled, knowing I had played my part and then indicated to the clerk what I needed and the lady verbally accosted me with, "What?! What?! What did you say?! You got somethin' to say to me and my brother?"
Really?
But then, I get that in whatever part of town I'm in and I don't love it when they do think its racial and then agree. That's even worse, I think. More than just being a chip on the shoulder. That's just pure racism.
*sigh*
Sociable
