looking at my life today, i cannot believe i have spent half of my life living in california. i guess i like to torture myself on a serious level. its just different, and maybe because i was raised in suck an opposite place, i do well here. not sure, though.
right now, its october. and eighty five degrees. thats the day. last night , it was 46. it hasnt rained since clinton was president.
everyone looks the same. no one has basic manners. everyone lies. people are into cars, obnoxious tract homes, and being nosy.
i miss the leaves. hell, i miss TREES. there arent any in so cal. you look at a mountain, and you can see rocks and dirt. its strange. the air is dirty, due to the lack of foliage.
i think today, i will figure exactly where i want to be, and make a plan to get there. even if for some sado masochistic reason, it is here.
also worthy of mentioning- my computer has some trojan on it. not a naked stud on a horse....the virus kind. i have tried everything , every program, and cant get rid of it. i read some instructions on manually removing it, but that worries me. this will be my third laptop in two years..... and i dont want to get a fourth. any geeks reading? let me know.
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
Monday, October 8, 2007
Plastic Women Beware
kids went to the inlaw's saturday night and stayed over. mister and i were feeling lazy, so we decided to hit the menifee bar scene. this consists of two bars. five miles apart. bobs pit stop was so empty that there was a stray dog walking around in there, and the three and half patrons, ( i say a half because this man was so old he definitely had one foot in the grave)were looking at it like it was entertainment. like ..reeeaaally entertaining....like the donkey show in tijuana ( which i have seen, and will blog about at a later time...gonna lose a lot of readers when i post that gem). i checked behind the bar nervously, half expecting the bartender to be laying there in a pool of blood, his forehead split by an axe. no such luck. he had a little stool he was sitting on, and was WHITTLING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! straight out of deliverance. here he is -
okay . not him. and he had a smaller piece of wood. but close enough.
**** oh wow. say "whittling " ten times. repeat. isnt that word funny?
back to the bar. clearly there was nothing going on ,unless the dog decided to have puppies on the floor or something, but upon further inspection, it appeared to be starving, so we left.
after a treacherous drive through construction that has been going on since the gulf war, we arrive at pepe's cantina. this is a clear example of why i hate society. here is my yelp review of this establishment- ( also my other reviews on there...) its the fourth one down-CLICK THIS AND READ, MAN
so we stroll into pepes. this is canyon lake, and either everyone is dressed like the traditional bro-n-ho, or they wear sweat pants and ugg boots. so needless to say, i dont fit in. which is usually the case. i am six two in my stilletos. people stare. after leaving again, immediately to smoke a cigarette, i walk back in the door, and see mr. erick getting molested at the bar by two blonde blowup dolls. i leave him to fend for himself. after five minutes though,i realize he has all the money. so i saunter over. blondie #1 gives me an evil glance and goes back to stroking ericks ponytail. blondie #2 actually moves in front of me, between myself and my matrimonial partner of 13 years. i quickly reach around her, and snatch ericks wallet out of his pocket. he doesnt even look at me. he has already received a beer (free!) from another blonde bartender who is obviously related to the first two. ( arent they all related once they use the same surgeon??)
#1 shrieks "omigod!! she was in your pocket!!"
erick- i know
dumb bitch 2= dont you, like care??
erick- no
dumber bitch 1- what?? what the fuck???
erick- thats my wife.
he then just walks away. erick is famous for this. he just lets things happen to him, around him, for him, then when he gets a better idea, he just leaves. its really funny.
he joins me at the bar. the look on his face says he is thinking better of it. "you are going to drink all that?", he says eying my plastic cup (3 shots) of kessler, the rolling rock, and the greyhound i have already drank down to the ice."yes. i have to be here" i snap. so after that round, and another, i settle in with just a beer. then, of course, i need to smoke. erick decided to accompany me, even though he equates me smoking with world destruction=
actually, i think he enjoys people thinking he rented me for a night or something.so three drags in, and i hear a female voice yell 'erick!!!" oh great. at first i thought it was another barbarella, but its not. it is a girl from the payroll department at his office. they talk about work. i concentrate on finishing my cigarette , and then walk back inside to study the band.
okay. not only is the guitar player 6foot6 and weighs maybe 120 punds, he looks exactly like the late great cliff burton!!!!! i am stoked. i watch fascinated as, he rips out a perfect rendition of whitesnakes "here i go again" . i take stock of the rest of the band- singer-marie osmond, add thirty years and a crack habit. drummer-phil collins, but with a full blond afro. sardonic bass player sitting in front of enough keyboards to play in the mormon tabernacle choir- russell hitchcock from air supply. this causes me to drink two more shots of kessler.
erick and the payroll entourage come over and sit down. he introduces me as "linda- drunken wonder" they shake my hand and frown. i try not to say anything, and because that is so difficult being this buzzed, i do the only thing feasible-
go request bon jovi.
the band gets mildly HYPER when faced with living on a prayer. i sing the lyrics LOUD, and pull out my lighter. erick and his office ladies crack up. then cliff burton reincarnated starts playing "eruption", complete with the hand over hand tapping technique. some asshole in a huge t-shirt and jeans the size of a billy graham revival tent decides to start DANCING. the jerk. i yell " blasphemer!!! "in my best pinhead voice. he doesnt get it.
so i scream= "if eddie van halen wanted you to crip walk to this guitar solo he would have composed it with a drum machine!!!!!" he gets that. and tries to melt into the light up floor. i hear a few sporadic cheers, and then turn to see erick gazing at me proudly. "you are such a bitch." , he mouths. "love you too," i mouth back. then, i run and slide on my knees up to the stage and make some you rule gestures to the band. pepes cantina erupts in applause. i get up, dust off the knees of my jeans, and walk out the door. erick follows, high fiving every guy at the bar.
no, i didnt drive home.
okay . not him. and he had a smaller piece of wood. but close enough.
**** oh wow. say "whittling " ten times. repeat. isnt that word funny?
back to the bar. clearly there was nothing going on ,unless the dog decided to have puppies on the floor or something, but upon further inspection, it appeared to be starving, so we left.
after a treacherous drive through construction that has been going on since the gulf war, we arrive at pepe's cantina. this is a clear example of why i hate society. here is my yelp review of this establishment- ( also my other reviews on there...) its the fourth one down-CLICK THIS AND READ, MAN
so we stroll into pepes. this is canyon lake, and either everyone is dressed like the traditional bro-n-ho, or they wear sweat pants and ugg boots. so needless to say, i dont fit in. which is usually the case. i am six two in my stilletos. people stare. after leaving again, immediately to smoke a cigarette, i walk back in the door, and see mr. erick getting molested at the bar by two blonde blowup dolls. i leave him to fend for himself. after five minutes though,i realize he has all the money. so i saunter over. blondie #1 gives me an evil glance and goes back to stroking ericks ponytail. blondie #2 actually moves in front of me, between myself and my matrimonial partner of 13 years. i quickly reach around her, and snatch ericks wallet out of his pocket. he doesnt even look at me. he has already received a beer (free!) from another blonde bartender who is obviously related to the first two. ( arent they all related once they use the same surgeon??)
#1 shrieks "omigod!! she was in your pocket!!"
erick- i know
dumb bitch 2= dont you, like care??
erick- no
dumber bitch 1- what?? what the fuck???
erick- thats my wife.
he then just walks away. erick is famous for this. he just lets things happen to him, around him, for him, then when he gets a better idea, he just leaves. its really funny.
he joins me at the bar. the look on his face says he is thinking better of it. "you are going to drink all that?", he says eying my plastic cup (3 shots) of kessler, the rolling rock, and the greyhound i have already drank down to the ice."yes. i have to be here" i snap. so after that round, and another, i settle in with just a beer. then, of course, i need to smoke. erick decided to accompany me, even though he equates me smoking with world destruction=
actually, i think he enjoys people thinking he rented me for a night or something.so three drags in, and i hear a female voice yell 'erick!!!" oh great. at first i thought it was another barbarella, but its not. it is a girl from the payroll department at his office. they talk about work. i concentrate on finishing my cigarette , and then walk back inside to study the band.
okay. not only is the guitar player 6foot6 and weighs maybe 120 punds, he looks exactly like the late great cliff burton!!!!! i am stoked. i watch fascinated as, he rips out a perfect rendition of whitesnakes "here i go again" . i take stock of the rest of the band- singer-marie osmond, add thirty years and a crack habit. drummer-phil collins, but with a full blond afro. sardonic bass player sitting in front of enough keyboards to play in the mormon tabernacle choir- russell hitchcock from air supply. this causes me to drink two more shots of kessler.
erick and the payroll entourage come over and sit down. he introduces me as "linda- drunken wonder" they shake my hand and frown. i try not to say anything, and because that is so difficult being this buzzed, i do the only thing feasible-
go request bon jovi.
the band gets mildly HYPER when faced with living on a prayer. i sing the lyrics LOUD, and pull out my lighter. erick and his office ladies crack up. then cliff burton reincarnated starts playing "eruption", complete with the hand over hand tapping technique. some asshole in a huge t-shirt and jeans the size of a billy graham revival tent decides to start DANCING. the jerk. i yell " blasphemer!!! "in my best pinhead voice. he doesnt get it.
so i scream= "if eddie van halen wanted you to crip walk to this guitar solo he would have composed it with a drum machine!!!!!" he gets that. and tries to melt into the light up floor. i hear a few sporadic cheers, and then turn to see erick gazing at me proudly. "you are such a bitch." , he mouths. "love you too," i mouth back. then, i run and slide on my knees up to the stage and make some you rule gestures to the band. pepes cantina erupts in applause. i get up, dust off the knees of my jeans, and walk out the door. erick follows, high fiving every guy at the bar.
no, i didnt drive home.
Saturday, October 6, 2007
i cant get no satisfaction
so. saturday morning. i am IRATE, because i was going to see the maxies last night, and fell asleep.on the front porch.i am lucky i didnt get knifed. by a coyote. thats all there is in this neighborhood at night anyhow.
back to the maxies.
one of the best local punk bands and they are from greenland. they wear masks(!!!!!!) hoods, and no one knows who the hell they are . (i know one s real identity...) i love it.
here is their myspace , for all you nancyboys-GREENLAND POWER
i missed them. i have missed a lot of shows lately, due to skating ,and the havok it wreaks on me. what? its FULLCONTACT SKATING, you scoffers. we burn about 13,000 calories a practice. i am like, anorexic, from derby. yeah right. more like down to almost mythical proportions, and thats from being bigger than life. if you got the extreme cleverness in that, i give you an honorary slow day at fenway park. which we havent in had in four years now, so its mighty special.
promise- i will get better at adding pictures and crap , but thats good enough for now, considering i havent had my tea yet.
so , after missing the flight to greenland, i woke up at about 1:30 am, wrapped in a quilt, to the sound of a rooster. yes , a rooster. i have to post pictures of where i live at some point....
this rooster, indicative of most of the area, must have been on meth. thats the only reason why he would be hoarsely crowing during an hour that is last call for alcohol for PEOPLE. in fact all of the farm animals around here are on meth. or they having a lot of sex. we get sheep, goats, the aforementioned tweaker roosters and horses causing a ruckus all night. i have learned to sleep through it. however, the first month we lived here, erick and i duct taped ourselves in the closet so we could have some sleep. actually, the animal noises just made us feel like we were in a bestiality porn when we were having interpersonal relations. and even i am not that sick. yet.
Thursday, October 4, 2007
gooley ma!
while waiting for something worhtwhile to happen to me, i got this in a myspace bulletin.
i am , needless to say, speechless. i just dont know what to do.
have at it-
i am , needless to say, speechless. i just dont know what to do.
have at it-
Monday, October 1, 2007
virgin birth
so. i guess this is the day. i never even knew i was pregnant.
my best childhood friend started a blog on here. and somehow, in just trying to sign up for a subscription to hers, i have ended up with my own. isnt that how you start a crack habit??
i have several offensive rantings on myspace, but blogging on the goonspace is like buying knock coach bags. face it, it just isnt as real and as exciting as the actual thing.
so here goes.
i may or may not import my goonspace blogs...but i will try to painstakingly lay bare all the details of my life...which i dont believe i live.
the treat here, is that because its not myspace, i may write about the kids and mister erick...... not that its safer or anything, its still the net, but somehow stories of raising a family ( or them raising me) on myspace just cheapens the whole deal......
okay. done.
my best childhood friend started a blog on here. and somehow, in just trying to sign up for a subscription to hers, i have ended up with my own. isnt that how you start a crack habit??
i have several offensive rantings on myspace, but blogging on the goonspace is like buying knock coach bags. face it, it just isnt as real and as exciting as the actual thing.
so here goes.
i may or may not import my goonspace blogs...but i will try to painstakingly lay bare all the details of my life...which i dont believe i live.
the treat here, is that because its not myspace, i may write about the kids and mister erick...... not that its safer or anything, its still the net, but somehow stories of raising a family ( or them raising me) on myspace just cheapens the whole deal......
okay. done.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
