Surfing the web for another recipe, I fall upon this little ditty.
It must have been the evil twin that happened upon this one considering I was originally looking for a pecan pie recipe.
This is for a hot holiday punch with a Spanish vida ("Ponche"). Considering I can get all these ingredients at the Farmer's Market, I'm thinking of renting a vendor's stand and brew some up to feed to the other veggie vendors over the winter. Too bad the licensing for selling booze in that part of the state is such a pain in the ass. And really, who wants a punch with no "punch", especially the ass-bustin' Latinos who have to work in the freezing cold.
Just think the lost capitialistic opportunity to sell poncho to Latino workers for three bucks a shot. Considering they sell me fruits and vegetables at NO less than 90 percent than the grocery there's a wicked potential market there. I guess we should thank the radical Christian Coalition for ensuring this would not be possible.
Alas, enjoy yet something else for the holidays...
Ponche
2 Golden Delicious apples, peeled, cored, and cut in 1/8ths
3/4 cup raisins
1 pound guava, quartered
3 (3 to 4-inch) pieces sugarcane, each cut in strips
1/2 cup prunes
1/2 pound crabapples, peeled and cored
2 cups (1-inch) diced pineapple
1 cup sugar
4 (2-inch) pieces Mexican cinnamon
8 cups water
Tequila
In a large pot, place the fruit, sugar, cinnamon, and 8 cups of water. Bring to a boil and lower heat and simmer for 1 hour. Serve hot in a mug that has a shot of tequila in it.
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
Back from the Desert
Well, not two days back from Phoenix and I already want to go back. What an awesome time. I was only out there for three days, but it felt like an hour. Phoenix is really a beatiful place. It is smack dab in the middle of a valley, surrounded by mountains and the weather - sun, 75 degrees and 25% humidity. Of course, I come back to Atlanta to rain, 50 degrees, and 95% humidity. Blah! Girlfriend says the summers are miserable, though. The AC does not stop and nobody wants to do anything outside. I thought we had it bad here, but we get humidity where she says it's like a giant hairdryer.
My boss told me that when I got back, I'd feel claustrophobic because Phoenix only has a couple of carefully placed palm trees and NO high rise buildings. It really was weird not seeing anything really over 3 stories. They're building 75 story monsters in downtown right now.
Had loads of fun, though. Highly recommend it.
Now, it's back to the old, boring ass job. I have had nothing at all to do today. What a joke. They're paying me so much money to literally read the news and blog. Alas, if I don't find something interesting to do - really, really soon - I'm headed for trouble. At least I'm doing my three mile run at lunch now instead of waiting to get home. It helps to break up the day when you can take a 2 hour lunch and get the exercise portion of the day done. A lady in my office stopped me this morning and asked how much weight I had lost. According to the scale, it's around 40 lbs. Not too shabby, but after trying to lose one pound in two years, the fattage is now flying off. Girlfriend and I even went shopping for girl clothes and I've managed to get into a size 6. I haven't been a 6 since I was 18 years old. Pretty cool. The secret is definately no processed food, no beer and a minimum of 3 miles and 1 hour of yoga a day. Now if I could just find a place that sells bathing suits in December for the St. Thomas trip.
Ah well, I guess I better get my ass up and do something. Maybe I'll walk to the other side of campus. At least the sun finally came out.
My boss told me that when I got back, I'd feel claustrophobic because Phoenix only has a couple of carefully placed palm trees and NO high rise buildings. It really was weird not seeing anything really over 3 stories. They're building 75 story monsters in downtown right now.
Had loads of fun, though. Highly recommend it.
Now, it's back to the old, boring ass job. I have had nothing at all to do today. What a joke. They're paying me so much money to literally read the news and blog. Alas, if I don't find something interesting to do - really, really soon - I'm headed for trouble. At least I'm doing my three mile run at lunch now instead of waiting to get home. It helps to break up the day when you can take a 2 hour lunch and get the exercise portion of the day done. A lady in my office stopped me this morning and asked how much weight I had lost. According to the scale, it's around 40 lbs. Not too shabby, but after trying to lose one pound in two years, the fattage is now flying off. Girlfriend and I even went shopping for girl clothes and I've managed to get into a size 6. I haven't been a 6 since I was 18 years old. Pretty cool. The secret is definately no processed food, no beer and a minimum of 3 miles and 1 hour of yoga a day. Now if I could just find a place that sells bathing suits in December for the St. Thomas trip.
Ah well, I guess I better get my ass up and do something. Maybe I'll walk to the other side of campus. At least the sun finally came out.
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
Rest in Peace
Dear Sam,
You will be sadly missed on this Earth. Rest in Peace.
Alright, he might be ugly - well, really, really ugly, but everyone has someone in the world that loves them and Sam's owner is missing the little guy.
You will be sadly missed on this Earth. Rest in Peace.
Alright, he might be ugly - well, really, really ugly, but everyone has someone in the world that loves them and Sam's owner is missing the little guy.
All I Want for Christmas is...
Bugatti Veyron
Right. Like I could possibly drive something like this. Lest we not forget the asking price, either. I'm sure I have a body part that I could sell that would make up the difference in the $1.2 Million price tag.
Monday, November 21, 2005
The Perils of Being an Urban Pioneer
Warning:
Diatribe Ahead
So, I'm a slacker when it comes to our neighbourhood meetings, but #1 I don't like meetings and #2 it starts at 7 PM and because nobody knows how to hold a meeting, the thing can go on for hours. I handled it pretty well Monday night, considering my moral and ethical belief system was all but assaulted by this Capitalist, Bush-lovin' slug...
Perhaps some background before the verbal assaults begin:
If you don't already know, Atlanta has no mass transit system. Well, we have M.A.R.T.A. which stands for Metro Atlanta Rapid Transit Authority.
----Heee, let's see if my Mum really reads my blog:
Want to know what I found out the other day? Old time Rednecks think MARTA stands for... "Moving Africans Rapidly Through Atlanta". Damn!
Anyway, MARTA doesn’t go anywhere you need to go. It simply runs a north-south, east-west route with a stop every 2 miles or so. Lots of good the train does you. And don’t even think of riding the bus unless you carry a handgun! So Atlanta now has an opportunity to develop this idea for light trolley and rail using rehabilitated existing rail lines connecting them with parks, neighbourhoods, tourist areas, etc. It is something that I am eagerly backing because it really will bring Atlanta into that "International Spotlight" that it’s been craving since 1996. You can see more about it at http://www.beltlinepartnership.org.
Along with the light rail, there are propositions to have more greenspace added around the rail. Atlanta has the least amount of greenspace of all the cities in the country the same size or larger, so for us tree-huggin’, Socialist-types, green is good. However, as I was reminded Monday night, some people think that since green places don’t generate revenue, they are not worth the effort.
That being said, a parallel project has been initiated by our very, very enthusiastic neighbourhood president (who we will call “Dippy”) and her completely annoying partner in crime, who happens to be a Capitalist, elitist (or is that redundant?) architect/developer (who we will call Rupert). They have come up with something called the Chosewood Park Development Corporation. Dippy, of course, has elected herself as the “Interim Director” of this little ditty. These two, along with some students in Rupert’s class at GT, have come up with a very ambitious, almost fantasy, concept to redevelop “The Hood”.
Now, if you don’t know, Chosewood Park (aka “The ‘Hood) consists of a City of Atlanta Watershed yard, a low-income apartment complex, single-family homes, oh yeah… and the fucking projects. To add more salt to this festering wound, most of the single-family homes are owned by unscrupulous people who rent their homes out to Section 8 families and most of the other properties are owned by the City of Atlanta. Needless to say, they are mostly dilapidated, shitholes, which makes them very lucrative to the City. Most of Dippy’s project requires the City to sell most of their property and as a graduate in Environmental Development; I know this has a snowball’s chance in hell.
The City has been involved with something called the Hope VI (Empowerment Zone) program since before the Olympics in ’96. This is a federally funded program that gives money to the city to demolish very old, very unsavory housing projects and rebuild them under the tenant “Mixed-income”. This means that the property will be rebuilt with nice, attractive apartments and townhomes and those that can afford the rent/mortgage pay it, and those that can’t afford it pay what they can and the rest is subsidized by the government’s plan. Boy, I can hear the Capitalists screaming from here, but it really does work and I will tell you why. Unlike Section 8 (which I’ll blab about in a minute), the people who participate in the Mixed-income program W-A-N-T to be there. These folks are hard-working, have no criminal record, keep their homes tidy, etc. The bottom line is that good, hard-working people deserve that break or two that most people attain through no action of their own.
Do not confuse mixed-income with Section 8. Section 8 is another HUD funded program, but this one is much, much different. Section 8 folks pay what they can based on their income, then receive money from HUD to cover the rest. They can rent a house anywhere they want as long as the landlord accepts them and in Chosewood, there are lots of ‘em. See, if you have a Section 8 renter, you are almost guaranteed 70-80% of your rent even if your tenant defaults on their part. Most of the houses they rent out are crap, so what if you only get part of your rent? Chances are the landlords own the house outright because they bought them in the late ‘70s and ’80 when whitey was making the great exodus to the suburbs and property values plummeted.
Section 8 folks are, for the most part, a little different than those who qualify for Mixed-income. First, most (not all Section 8) are the “I deserve a handout because …” –type. Second, Section 8 is not enforced at all. Nobody living in a Section 8 house can have a criminal record and if anyone is arrested and convicted while living in the house, the entire family is supposed to move. This does not happen, I promise. But, again, not all folks on Section 8 fall into this category.
For example, I have two Section 8 families next to me. One family on my right another one right across the street. The family that lives to my right is headed by a very, very hardworking, strong woman. She works 9 hours a day, 6 days a week. When her derelict daughter got hooked on crack, she kicked her out of the house and took custody of her grandchildren. She never has loud parties and keeps her house clean inside and out. Best of all, she respects us as her neigbours and we reciprocate.
Then there are the pigs across the street. Hmmmmm, where do we start? Mama works (at least I think she does). She has anywhere from 8-12 people, mostly teenagers, hanging out in the front yard all day, everyday. Most of these folks are hanging in the front yard so they can sell weed and crack to those unsavories that pass through the ‘Hood. They are not in school and do not hold jobs – unless you consider selling crack a “job”. The constantly blare hip-hop music until late at night and there is always trash all over their yard, which blows into my yard. They have completely destroyed the fence that the landlord installed around the front yard and they genuinely do not give a shit about where they live or what they do. We’ve called the police on them countless times and several times some of the little shits have actually been picked up.
And they are still there. Section 8 only works for a very, very small percentage of people. Those who do not feel like they deserve a “handout” and are willing to work to earn their right to a decent home are the minority.
OK – so back to the meeting on Monday. Although this was supposed to be a meeting to discuss ‘Hood issues, Dippy and Rupert used it as a platform to promote their development plan to us. This plan, which they only asked input on after it was completed, was pitched heavily to us only after we had a presentation from a lady working for the Trust for Public Lands. The plan the TPL presented showed hundred of acres of land they wanted to purchase in order to establish more public greenspace. Some of this land is in Chosewood, but of course, it was land that Dippy and Rupert earmarked for “retail and commercial” space.
So Dippy stands up and says, “Oh what a great idea, but you can’t have any of the land in Chosewood because we have other plans.” Well, this just starts this cozy little dialogue between Dippy/Rupert and the TPL. Basically Rupert goes on his gig about how greenspace doesn’t generate revenue and jobs are what we need in our ‘Hood. I guess he means jobs like selling shoes or something because every crack dealer making ten grand a week wants to work like a dog earning minimum wage. Anyway this little dispute went on for over an hour – again because Dippy doesn’t know how to run a meeting and call for a sidebar.
Then, just to be sure to really piss me off, after the TPL leaves, Rupert takes it upon himself to begin lecturing us on how we don’t want greenspace and parks, what we really want it retail, shopping, and restaurants. What we want? He also said that the TPL has the same agenda as the Sierra Club (a group I support) and that they need to just find other land as opposed to Chosewood properties. It was about that time that I almost stood up and bitch-slapped him.
Oh, but it gets better. After all this discussion, Dippy says we need to elect officers to her new Corporation. She volunteers to be the President, which everyone but me voted “yes” and then we finished with almost all the other officers except one – and here’s the coupe de grace - Dippy says we need a Corporation Representative. What the hell this is, I haven’t a clue, but she says, “Since Rupert has done all this work on our development, I think it would be a good idea to nominate him. Well, Dippy, Rupert doesn’t live in our “Hood. He lives in a trendy, Jewish condo complex in Midtown. When someone mentions Rupert’s potential conflict of interest, he gallantly steps up and says, “I do realize my participation in this corporation could invite such arguments. After all, I do stand to make a ton of money off this development”. Those fucking idiots I call neigbours still voted him in.
We have decided that that will be the last meeting we attend. First, I have a degree in Environmental Development, which is a concept regarding developments that keep nature and the environment as the first priority – the almighty dollar ranks about 4th on the list. Second, the City isn’t going to sell their land. Third, know your audience before you attempt to grand stand all your useless, arrogant knowledge and try to force feed it down my gullet.
I had thought about telling Dippy and Rupert to stick their project somewhere darker than the shelf, but I think I’m just going to team up with the Trust for Public Land and make sure they put a park or greenspace – or whatever will fuck up Dippy’s project. – dead smack in the middle of the ‘Hood. It’s always better to play dirty.
Diatribe over.
Diatribe Ahead
So, I'm a slacker when it comes to our neighbourhood meetings, but #1 I don't like meetings and #2 it starts at 7 PM and because nobody knows how to hold a meeting, the thing can go on for hours. I handled it pretty well Monday night, considering my moral and ethical belief system was all but assaulted by this Capitalist, Bush-lovin' slug...
Perhaps some background before the verbal assaults begin:
If you don't already know, Atlanta has no mass transit system. Well, we have M.A.R.T.A. which stands for Metro Atlanta Rapid Transit Authority.
----Heee, let's see if my Mum really reads my blog:
Want to know what I found out the other day? Old time Rednecks think MARTA stands for... "Moving Africans Rapidly Through Atlanta". Damn!
Anyway, MARTA doesn’t go anywhere you need to go. It simply runs a north-south, east-west route with a stop every 2 miles or so. Lots of good the train does you. And don’t even think of riding the bus unless you carry a handgun! So Atlanta now has an opportunity to develop this idea for light trolley and rail using rehabilitated existing rail lines connecting them with parks, neighbourhoods, tourist areas, etc. It is something that I am eagerly backing because it really will bring Atlanta into that "International Spotlight" that it’s been craving since 1996. You can see more about it at http://www.beltlinepartnership.org.
Along with the light rail, there are propositions to have more greenspace added around the rail. Atlanta has the least amount of greenspace of all the cities in the country the same size or larger, so for us tree-huggin’, Socialist-types, green is good. However, as I was reminded Monday night, some people think that since green places don’t generate revenue, they are not worth the effort.
That being said, a parallel project has been initiated by our very, very enthusiastic neighbourhood president (who we will call “Dippy”) and her completely annoying partner in crime, who happens to be a Capitalist, elitist (or is that redundant?) architect/developer (who we will call Rupert). They have come up with something called the Chosewood Park Development Corporation. Dippy, of course, has elected herself as the “Interim Director” of this little ditty. These two, along with some students in Rupert’s class at GT, have come up with a very ambitious, almost fantasy, concept to redevelop “The Hood”.
Now, if you don’t know, Chosewood Park (aka “The ‘Hood) consists of a City of Atlanta Watershed yard, a low-income apartment complex, single-family homes, oh yeah… and the fucking projects. To add more salt to this festering wound, most of the single-family homes are owned by unscrupulous people who rent their homes out to Section 8 families and most of the other properties are owned by the City of Atlanta. Needless to say, they are mostly dilapidated, shitholes, which makes them very lucrative to the City. Most of Dippy’s project requires the City to sell most of their property and as a graduate in Environmental Development; I know this has a snowball’s chance in hell.
The City has been involved with something called the Hope VI (Empowerment Zone) program since before the Olympics in ’96. This is a federally funded program that gives money to the city to demolish very old, very unsavory housing projects and rebuild them under the tenant “Mixed-income”. This means that the property will be rebuilt with nice, attractive apartments and townhomes and those that can afford the rent/mortgage pay it, and those that can’t afford it pay what they can and the rest is subsidized by the government’s plan. Boy, I can hear the Capitalists screaming from here, but it really does work and I will tell you why. Unlike Section 8 (which I’ll blab about in a minute), the people who participate in the Mixed-income program W-A-N-T to be there. These folks are hard-working, have no criminal record, keep their homes tidy, etc. The bottom line is that good, hard-working people deserve that break or two that most people attain through no action of their own.
Do not confuse mixed-income with Section 8. Section 8 is another HUD funded program, but this one is much, much different. Section 8 folks pay what they can based on their income, then receive money from HUD to cover the rest. They can rent a house anywhere they want as long as the landlord accepts them and in Chosewood, there are lots of ‘em. See, if you have a Section 8 renter, you are almost guaranteed 70-80% of your rent even if your tenant defaults on their part. Most of the houses they rent out are crap, so what if you only get part of your rent? Chances are the landlords own the house outright because they bought them in the late ‘70s and ’80 when whitey was making the great exodus to the suburbs and property values plummeted.
Section 8 folks are, for the most part, a little different than those who qualify for Mixed-income. First, most (not all Section 8) are the “I deserve a handout because …” –type. Second, Section 8 is not enforced at all. Nobody living in a Section 8 house can have a criminal record and if anyone is arrested and convicted while living in the house, the entire family is supposed to move. This does not happen, I promise. But, again, not all folks on Section 8 fall into this category.
For example, I have two Section 8 families next to me. One family on my right another one right across the street. The family that lives to my right is headed by a very, very hardworking, strong woman. She works 9 hours a day, 6 days a week. When her derelict daughter got hooked on crack, she kicked her out of the house and took custody of her grandchildren. She never has loud parties and keeps her house clean inside and out. Best of all, she respects us as her neigbours and we reciprocate.
Then there are the pigs across the street. Hmmmmm, where do we start? Mama works (at least I think she does). She has anywhere from 8-12 people, mostly teenagers, hanging out in the front yard all day, everyday. Most of these folks are hanging in the front yard so they can sell weed and crack to those unsavories that pass through the ‘Hood. They are not in school and do not hold jobs – unless you consider selling crack a “job”. The constantly blare hip-hop music until late at night and there is always trash all over their yard, which blows into my yard. They have completely destroyed the fence that the landlord installed around the front yard and they genuinely do not give a shit about where they live or what they do. We’ve called the police on them countless times and several times some of the little shits have actually been picked up.
And they are still there. Section 8 only works for a very, very small percentage of people. Those who do not feel like they deserve a “handout” and are willing to work to earn their right to a decent home are the minority.
OK – so back to the meeting on Monday. Although this was supposed to be a meeting to discuss ‘Hood issues, Dippy and Rupert used it as a platform to promote their development plan to us. This plan, which they only asked input on after it was completed, was pitched heavily to us only after we had a presentation from a lady working for the Trust for Public Lands. The plan the TPL presented showed hundred of acres of land they wanted to purchase in order to establish more public greenspace. Some of this land is in Chosewood, but of course, it was land that Dippy and Rupert earmarked for “retail and commercial” space.
So Dippy stands up and says, “Oh what a great idea, but you can’t have any of the land in Chosewood because we have other plans.” Well, this just starts this cozy little dialogue between Dippy/Rupert and the TPL. Basically Rupert goes on his gig about how greenspace doesn’t generate revenue and jobs are what we need in our ‘Hood. I guess he means jobs like selling shoes or something because every crack dealer making ten grand a week wants to work like a dog earning minimum wage. Anyway this little dispute went on for over an hour – again because Dippy doesn’t know how to run a meeting and call for a sidebar.
Then, just to be sure to really piss me off, after the TPL leaves, Rupert takes it upon himself to begin lecturing us on how we don’t want greenspace and parks, what we really want it retail, shopping, and restaurants. What we want? He also said that the TPL has the same agenda as the Sierra Club (a group I support) and that they need to just find other land as opposed to Chosewood properties. It was about that time that I almost stood up and bitch-slapped him.
Oh, but it gets better. After all this discussion, Dippy says we need to elect officers to her new Corporation. She volunteers to be the President, which everyone but me voted “yes” and then we finished with almost all the other officers except one – and here’s the coupe de grace - Dippy says we need a Corporation Representative. What the hell this is, I haven’t a clue, but she says, “Since Rupert has done all this work on our development, I think it would be a good idea to nominate him. Well, Dippy, Rupert doesn’t live in our “Hood. He lives in a trendy, Jewish condo complex in Midtown. When someone mentions Rupert’s potential conflict of interest, he gallantly steps up and says, “I do realize my participation in this corporation could invite such arguments. After all, I do stand to make a ton of money off this development”. Those fucking idiots I call neigbours still voted him in.
We have decided that that will be the last meeting we attend. First, I have a degree in Environmental Development, which is a concept regarding developments that keep nature and the environment as the first priority – the almighty dollar ranks about 4th on the list. Second, the City isn’t going to sell their land. Third, know your audience before you attempt to grand stand all your useless, arrogant knowledge and try to force feed it down my gullet.
I had thought about telling Dippy and Rupert to stick their project somewhere darker than the shelf, but I think I’m just going to team up with the Trust for Public Land and make sure they put a park or greenspace – or whatever will fuck up Dippy’s project. – dead smack in the middle of the ‘Hood. It’s always better to play dirty.
Diatribe over.
Thursday, November 17, 2005
Look Who Came to Visit!
Holy sheeeeettttt! Twenty-nine degrees - in the City - by 5:00AM! The cats have overtaken the den where I have the itty-bitty, electricity-guzzling, space heater. I tried to walk in there a minute ago and they didn't want to spare any body heat. They kicked me out.
However, I hear that New Englanders will wake up to the "zeros".
Just when you think you have it bad...
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
My Name is Earl
You must watch this show. Maybe it's the Augusta in me, but lines like this are too familiar...
Think really, really country accent...
Joy (drying her hair): "I'm sweatin' like a whore in church. No offense, Charlene."
Charlene: "Oh, nun taken. I don't go to church."
Think really, really country accent...
Joy (drying her hair): "I'm sweatin' like a whore in church. No offense, Charlene."
Charlene: "Oh, nun taken. I don't go to church."
Sunday, November 13, 2005
The SEC Rules
Auburn 31 - Georgia 30
The B-E-S-T college football game I can ever remember. What a blast. If I had only been in a betting mood, I could have cleaned house yesterday! Alabama also lost out to LSU in another killer game, and I listened to Spurrier give Florida a royal ass whopping. The SEC has to be the best conference out there - screw the Pac 10 and that useless USC (yup, we're still a little bitter over that rip off from last year).
We might not be coming to Atlanta this January, but at least we beat the Daaawwggggss. Woof, woof, woof.
Life in General
Well, you know you're going to have it rough when your astrological sign goes "retrograde" for three - count 'em three - weeks. According to today's horoscopes, we Geminis should expect communication and travel to be extremely difficult if not impossible. Timing couldn't be any better considering I'm flying across the country next week and I'm depending on my phenominal communication talent to get myself another job - hopefully, landing something before next year. Go figure, that crafty Mercury would go on hiatus right when I really need him (he must still be pissed about the Yin and Yang tats). He'd better be back in three weeks, though. I guess lots of patience is in order.
Speaking of life in general, here's my "Life Grade". I think it's a little off in the finance department, but otherwise not too bad. Thanks to my pal at Yorkshire Soul for the link. Try it and see what yours is...
Well, after two weeks, the sandpaper will be put away. Now it's time to prime and work the plaster. I really wanted to get the plaster done before the rain (since it hasn't rained her in six weeks, the humidity level is hovering around 10%), but my slack ass didn't make that deadline. Speaking of deadlines, if I don't bust my ass this weekend, my deadline to finish the dining room before I leave for Arizona will be shot. Unfortunately, there is just so much other stuff going on and I have to sit in a dead-end job doing nothing but blogging and reading the news eight hours a day.
I guess it's time to get back to it. I may even sneak home at lunch and start some priming. Vapours could help lighten my mood, if not kill the last remaining brain cell.
Speaking of life in general, here's my "Life Grade". I think it's a little off in the finance department, but otherwise not too bad. Thanks to my pal at Yorkshire Soul for the link. Try it and see what yours is...
| This Is My Life, Rated | |
| Life: |  6.6 |
| Mind: | 6.7 |
| Body: |  7.5 |
| Spirit: | 6.7 |
| Friends/Family: |  5.4 |
| Love: |  4.6 |
| Finance: | 7.8 |
| Take the Rate My Life Quiz | |
Well, after two weeks, the sandpaper will be put away. Now it's time to prime and work the plaster. I really wanted to get the plaster done before the rain (since it hasn't rained her in six weeks, the humidity level is hovering around 10%), but my slack ass didn't make that deadline. Speaking of deadlines, if I don't bust my ass this weekend, my deadline to finish the dining room before I leave for Arizona will be shot. Unfortunately, there is just so much other stuff going on and I have to sit in a dead-end job doing nothing but blogging and reading the news eight hours a day.
I guess it's time to get back to it. I may even sneak home at lunch and start some priming. Vapours could help lighten my mood, if not kill the last remaining brain cell.
Thursday, November 10, 2005
A Vegetarian View on Thanksgiving
Only we strict veg-heads would appreciate this upon the arrival of Thanksgiving...
Damn, that was rude, but have you forgotten who you're dealing with?
This really is so very sad considering how many people are dying from bird flu and how little vaccine there is to combat it. How is it that the drug companies still can't make enough of this Tamiflu even though this threat has been out there for so long? I know... we schmucks aren't paying them as much as we are the oil companies.
Speaking of rude, we're gonna gang up on Cat-man and tell him 1) no more cats and 2) M-A-S-S-I-V-E amounts of therapy are on the horizon or he's totally fucked. Mum says, "You wouldn't be so mean". Again, forget who you're dealing with??
Big party tomorrow at Spanky. A good friend retired after 20 years at Tech so we can only celebrate with lots of really cold beer and really good food. Between hamburgers, hot dogs, potato salad, deviled eggs, jalapeno cornbread, and fudge chocolate cake - it will be a struggle to keep the poundage off. However, Mum surprised me with a trip to St. Thomas for the holidays. Since I haven't been to a beach at under 125 lbs since I was 18 years old - I have incentive. That goddamn exercise ball has been my buddy again ever since I started feeling better. If you think you can do sit-ups on the floor, try it on the ball. Big - HUGE - improvement factor. Of course, after cleaning and moving out 6 or 7 cat kennels from Cat-man's this morning, the ball will have to wait for a day.
Speaking of balls, Terrell Owens needs his teeth kicked in. No, I'm not even remotely qualified to do the job, but please. What a dipshit. If I were Donovan McNabb, I do it, though. Thank God the Eagles told him to jump off a short bridge. What an asshole-ee-oo.
And back to Thanksgiving - I'm oh so looking forward to going to the big AZ. Gail and I are planning on dragging out her fake 12' tall tree and decorating it. Cannot wait to see the final product as she is a Gin and Tonic girl and I'm a Rum and Coke girl. We'll be lucky if the fucking tree doesn't wind up in the neighbour's house. We might even swing some clubs since the weather is supposed to be in the high 70's. Weather here was like that until last night. Then those fucking Canadians sent down a cold front that drop the temp like no other. Of course, the cold front is preceeded by 15-20 mpg wind. The acorns and pecans fell in tandom. Sounded like godamned downtown Baghdad. Alas, I almost busted my ass stepping off the back stairs and I'm still recovering from the ladder/screen door incident.
Ah well, must check the vegetarian (yet still awesome) cornbread and try to frost a cake without licking the spoon.
Damn, that was rude, but have you forgotten who you're dealing with?
This really is so very sad considering how many people are dying from bird flu and how little vaccine there is to combat it. How is it that the drug companies still can't make enough of this Tamiflu even though this threat has been out there for so long? I know... we schmucks aren't paying them as much as we are the oil companies.
Speaking of rude, we're gonna gang up on Cat-man and tell him 1) no more cats and 2) M-A-S-S-I-V-E amounts of therapy are on the horizon or he's totally fucked. Mum says, "You wouldn't be so mean". Again, forget who you're dealing with??
Big party tomorrow at Spanky. A good friend retired after 20 years at Tech so we can only celebrate with lots of really cold beer and really good food. Between hamburgers, hot dogs, potato salad, deviled eggs, jalapeno cornbread, and fudge chocolate cake - it will be a struggle to keep the poundage off. However, Mum surprised me with a trip to St. Thomas for the holidays. Since I haven't been to a beach at under 125 lbs since I was 18 years old - I have incentive. That goddamn exercise ball has been my buddy again ever since I started feeling better. If you think you can do sit-ups on the floor, try it on the ball. Big - HUGE - improvement factor. Of course, after cleaning and moving out 6 or 7 cat kennels from Cat-man's this morning, the ball will have to wait for a day.
Speaking of balls, Terrell Owens needs his teeth kicked in. No, I'm not even remotely qualified to do the job, but please. What a dipshit. If I were Donovan McNabb, I do it, though. Thank God the Eagles told him to jump off a short bridge. What an asshole-ee-oo.
And back to Thanksgiving - I'm oh so looking forward to going to the big AZ. Gail and I are planning on dragging out her fake 12' tall tree and decorating it. Cannot wait to see the final product as she is a Gin and Tonic girl and I'm a Rum and Coke girl. We'll be lucky if the fucking tree doesn't wind up in the neighbour's house. We might even swing some clubs since the weather is supposed to be in the high 70's. Weather here was like that until last night. Then those fucking Canadians sent down a cold front that drop the temp like no other. Of course, the cold front is preceeded by 15-20 mpg wind. The acorns and pecans fell in tandom. Sounded like godamned downtown Baghdad. Alas, I almost busted my ass stepping off the back stairs and I'm still recovering from the ladder/screen door incident.
Ah well, must check the vegetarian (yet still awesome) cornbread and try to frost a cake without licking the spoon.
Sunday, November 06, 2005
How to Lose 8,000 Calories in 4 Hours
Be THE biggest Depeche Mode fan and go to one of the best shows since... well, since the last DM concert. Between six hours up and down a ladder (working on the dining room) and four hours of dancing my ass off at the show - I had to have lost another 10 lbs. At least, I'm feeling like I lost something, but maybe that's just my sanity. Roomie says that there should be no such thing as bad dancing, after all, if you're dancing, you're having a good time. But, if that's the case, why has he yet to stop laughing at my sorry ass. The imitations are enough to make you spit milk through your nose.
Holy Sheeeetttt - I haven't hurt this badly in a very long time. Oh, and just to ensure my butt is completely worn out, I had to have a fight with the ladder and the screen door. Fell off the 8 foot ladder and landed on the only piece of furniture left in the dining room, then ran smack dab into the screen door when I was hauling paint up from the truck. You go, Girl!
Anyway, the show was unbelievable! I cannot believe that Martin Gore can still move like that (I can't believe I can still move like that). They played for almost four straight hours to me and 7,000 of my closest friends. And they played lots and lots of old stuff, which took me back to my high school salad days. This venue, though, was damn near Tennessee so we had to get a hotel last night, but my word, was it worth the money and the trip! Something tells me this might be the last show they do, and that will be sad.
Considering I cannot barely move (bruises and sored muscles), I'm due at a friend's house in an hour to participate in what can only be referred to as "serious intervention". This friend is a horder - a cat horder to be exact. He had to go out of town due to a death in the family and he asked if I would watch his cats. When I asked how many cats he had - and he told me 6-0 - that's sixty, fucking cats - I blew it. Anyway, another cat friend said, "enough is enough" and she wants me to meet her at Cat-man's house to take all the cats to shelters around Atlanta. Cat-Man is going to have a stroke, but if we don't do this, my sane cat friend will call animal control. Ironically, we both were huge proponents of making animal cruelty a felony in Georgia. Now look. However, just the thought of lifting a cat carrier is excruciating. I'm seriously trying to figure out a way to just sit on the couch under my heating pad and watch football or a movie. Something tells me that will not be the case, though.
I also have an appointment to get another tattoo at 3:30. I can't imagine it could hurt anymore than what I'm feeling now, but trying to drive might be problematic. Roomie thinks shoulders, but I'd have an easier time hiding them from the anal fam if I get them on my hip. Of course, blogging about the goddamn thing kills the notion of secrecy. You go, Girl.
It is a beautiful autumn day in the big City and even the pigs across the street are being relatively quiet. One day, I'm just going to pull a gun on them and then maybe they'll move on. Speaking of pigs, three guys got busted in Norcross on Thursday. They had been using their Katrina money to buy and sell coke and weed. According to the police, they were bragging about it saying it was their right to abuse the FEMA money because they were due the hand out. Please, anyone who thinks they are due a fucking handout because their fucking ancestors were brought over and sold as slaves 150 years ago, needs to get a brain and a fucking job. Besides, how stupid can you be to brag to total redneck police officers that your stupid black ass deserves a handout?
Time for another Goody powder and maybe some raw tuna for the protein boost. I should just drink blood as much as my body needs. I'm also going to burn the ladder and the screen door.
Holy Sheeeetttt - I haven't hurt this badly in a very long time. Oh, and just to ensure my butt is completely worn out, I had to have a fight with the ladder and the screen door. Fell off the 8 foot ladder and landed on the only piece of furniture left in the dining room, then ran smack dab into the screen door when I was hauling paint up from the truck. You go, Girl!
Anyway, the show was unbelievable! I cannot believe that Martin Gore can still move like that (I can't believe I can still move like that). They played for almost four straight hours to me and 7,000 of my closest friends. And they played lots and lots of old stuff, which took me back to my high school salad days. This venue, though, was damn near Tennessee so we had to get a hotel last night, but my word, was it worth the money and the trip! Something tells me this might be the last show they do, and that will be sad.
Considering I cannot barely move (bruises and sored muscles), I'm due at a friend's house in an hour to participate in what can only be referred to as "serious intervention". This friend is a horder - a cat horder to be exact. He had to go out of town due to a death in the family and he asked if I would watch his cats. When I asked how many cats he had - and he told me 6-0 - that's sixty, fucking cats - I blew it. Anyway, another cat friend said, "enough is enough" and she wants me to meet her at Cat-man's house to take all the cats to shelters around Atlanta. Cat-Man is going to have a stroke, but if we don't do this, my sane cat friend will call animal control. Ironically, we both were huge proponents of making animal cruelty a felony in Georgia. Now look. However, just the thought of lifting a cat carrier is excruciating. I'm seriously trying to figure out a way to just sit on the couch under my heating pad and watch football or a movie. Something tells me that will not be the case, though.
I also have an appointment to get another tattoo at 3:30. I can't imagine it could hurt anymore than what I'm feeling now, but trying to drive might be problematic. Roomie thinks shoulders, but I'd have an easier time hiding them from the anal fam if I get them on my hip. Of course, blogging about the goddamn thing kills the notion of secrecy. You go, Girl.
It is a beautiful autumn day in the big City and even the pigs across the street are being relatively quiet. One day, I'm just going to pull a gun on them and then maybe they'll move on. Speaking of pigs, three guys got busted in Norcross on Thursday. They had been using their Katrina money to buy and sell coke and weed. According to the police, they were bragging about it saying it was their right to abuse the FEMA money because they were due the hand out. Please, anyone who thinks they are due a fucking handout because their fucking ancestors were brought over and sold as slaves 150 years ago, needs to get a brain and a fucking job. Besides, how stupid can you be to brag to total redneck police officers that your stupid black ass deserves a handout?
Time for another Goody powder and maybe some raw tuna for the protein boost. I should just drink blood as much as my body needs. I'm also going to burn the ladder and the screen door.
Friday, November 04, 2005
New Rules
This one from my pal, Bill Maher:
"New Rule: Since only 15% of Americans said they believe in evolution in a recent poll, America must change its name to the United States of Jesus Christ. And our motto, from E Pluribus Unum to "I'm With Stupid." The good news for the nation: if we get any stupider about science, we'll forget how to cook crystal meth."
I am so sick of hearing about this bullshit, Intellegent Design. Who the hell made that up? In certain areas of the deep south, some folks think even I.D. is too liberal an idea. After all, it's about the Good Laud pointing a finger and voila - in six days you got a universe. That seventh day was apparently designed for cocktails and bar-b-que. Now let me ask this question. If we aren't related in any way to certain primates, why do these two pictures look so disturbing?
Sorry, old joke, but you get my drift.
Oh, and on that Crystal Meth note. Does anyone remember the Brian Nichols debacle that Atlanta had to go through because the Fulton County Sherriff's office is full of chimps ---- oh, you did NOT go there. Anyway, the Tweety-bird who has been credited with saving Atlanta from the serial killer just published a book where she tells everyone that she gave Nichols meth on the night he "kidnapped" her. Now, this makes absolute sense to me. First, beg and plead with the judge at your custody hearing to keep your four-year-old daughter because you, "don't do no mo' drugs", then write a book telling the world how you just happened to have a couple of o-z's worth of meth in your apartment that you so generously gave to a serial killer. According to Ms. Tweety, "I didn't do any with him 'cause if he were gonna shoot me, I didn't want to meet my Maker with a snoot full of ice." Huuuuhhh? So, she was just keeping the meth in her apartment for visitors? I'm lucky if I have a beer and some pretzel sticks to share.
Enough of that. New rule: everyone should have a tattoo. I've got one and I'm thinking of another. Possibly
and 
One on each side of the hip. I was thinking of the lower lumbar, but a friend said that one hurts worse than the one I've got now on my ankle. Not into it for the pain, I tell you. Roomie said on each shoulder, but I think some family members would go bonko. We'll see.
New Rule: If you are a Section 8 loser and you live across the street from me, get used to the idea that I will call you a fucking pig every morning I have to pick trash out of my yard because you're too undereducated to find your own garbage can.
New Rule: If you drive a Delta 88 that is over 20 years old, the exhaust is leaking, the engine sounds like a jet plane and the tires are bald - don't play that bullshit hip hop music over about 1 decible as it probably sounds just as shitty to you in your car as it does me sitting next to you at a stop light. It does NOT make you cool.
More rules to follow as my day becomes increasingly more boring.
"New Rule: Since only 15% of Americans said they believe in evolution in a recent poll, America must change its name to the United States of Jesus Christ. And our motto, from E Pluribus Unum to "I'm With Stupid." The good news for the nation: if we get any stupider about science, we'll forget how to cook crystal meth."
I am so sick of hearing about this bullshit, Intellegent Design. Who the hell made that up? In certain areas of the deep south, some folks think even I.D. is too liberal an idea. After all, it's about the Good Laud pointing a finger and voila - in six days you got a universe. That seventh day was apparently designed for cocktails and bar-b-que. Now let me ask this question. If we aren't related in any way to certain primates, why do these two pictures look so disturbing?
Sorry, old joke, but you get my drift.
Oh, and on that Crystal Meth note. Does anyone remember the Brian Nichols debacle that Atlanta had to go through because the Fulton County Sherriff's office is full of chimps ---- oh, you did NOT go there. Anyway, the Tweety-bird who has been credited with saving Atlanta from the serial killer just published a book where she tells everyone that she gave Nichols meth on the night he "kidnapped" her. Now, this makes absolute sense to me. First, beg and plead with the judge at your custody hearing to keep your four-year-old daughter because you, "don't do no mo' drugs", then write a book telling the world how you just happened to have a couple of o-z's worth of meth in your apartment that you so generously gave to a serial killer. According to Ms. Tweety, "I didn't do any with him 'cause if he were gonna shoot me, I didn't want to meet my Maker with a snoot full of ice." Huuuuhhh? So, she was just keeping the meth in her apartment for visitors? I'm lucky if I have a beer and some pretzel sticks to share.
Enough of that. New rule: everyone should have a tattoo. I've got one and I'm thinking of another. Possibly
and One on each side of the hip. I was thinking of the lower lumbar, but a friend said that one hurts worse than the one I've got now on my ankle. Not into it for the pain, I tell you. Roomie said on each shoulder, but I think some family members would go bonko. We'll see.
New Rule: If you are a Section 8 loser and you live across the street from me, get used to the idea that I will call you a fucking pig every morning I have to pick trash out of my yard because you're too undereducated to find your own garbage can.
New Rule: If you drive a Delta 88 that is over 20 years old, the exhaust is leaking, the engine sounds like a jet plane and the tires are bald - don't play that bullshit hip hop music over about 1 decible as it probably sounds just as shitty to you in your car as it does me sitting next to you at a stop light. It does NOT make you cool.
More rules to follow as my day becomes increasingly more boring.
Thursday, November 03, 2005
And Off Go the Gloves
Looks like I might lose Roomie. The past twenty-four hours have proved to be somewhat insightful - at least for me. Perhaps that's what perpetuated the over abundance of abusive terminology that I possess. Hmmm, I think it's when I called him redneck, trailer-trash - then qualified it with... oh yeah, "pig shit" that I could have crossed the line.
Of course, I immediately apologized (pussy that I am) and Roomie says, "I DON'T except your apology". Well, shit! Where do you go from there? I'm glad we don't have a gun in the house 'cause someone be missing somethin' after this evening.
Just another reason to move on.
Dining room is going better. The wood trim turns out to be heart of pine. If I had the time and where fore all, I'd strip and stain it, but that is suicide right now. Time is running out on my dining room completion schedule, especially if I'm leaving for Arizona early, but this little be-atch will get done. Too bad sanding wood makes such a mess - it's good therapy and exercise.
Of course, I immediately apologized (pussy that I am) and Roomie says, "I DON'T except your apology". Well, shit! Where do you go from there? I'm glad we don't have a gun in the house 'cause someone be missing somethin' after this evening.
Just another reason to move on.
Dining room is going better. The wood trim turns out to be heart of pine. If I had the time and where fore all, I'd strip and stain it, but that is suicide right now. Time is running out on my dining room completion schedule, especially if I'm leaving for Arizona early, but this little be-atch will get done. Too bad sanding wood makes such a mess - it's good therapy and exercise.
What a Dumbass
CNN has posted a bunch of emails that dipshit Michael Brown wrote while people and animals were dying by the hundreds in New Orleans and Mississippi. What a total dumbass. Makes you really want to be careful what you put in emails at work - or other wise.
I tell you one thing, though. Marty Bahamonde sold Brown down the river. Good for him.
Check out the crap for yourself...
http://i.a.cnn.net/cnn/2005/images/11/03/brown.emails.pdf
or if that link doesn't work, try just www.cnn.com
I tell you one thing, though. Marty Bahamonde sold Brown down the river. Good for him.
Check out the crap for yourself...
http://i.a.cnn.net/cnn/2005/images/11/03/brown.emails.pdf
or if that link doesn't work, try just www.cnn.com
Just a Little Bit Chapped
So I really didn't think I was going to have an opportunity to blow a 50-amp fuse this morning, but as usual, I was wrong.
While I was away at the Joe Show, Roomie decided to invite his family to our house for Thanksgiving. Keep in mind, I detest the holiday known as Thanksgiving. Forget for one moment that I am a vegetarian - Thanksgiving is a holiday that represents the invasion of white men into a country that did not belong to them and the subsequent demise of the Native American people. Since part of my heritage is Native American, I simply cannot stomach a holiday that celebrates this event. Every fucking year, Roomie goes to Virginia and I get to spend QMT (quality me time)- alone.
Well, I guess I must actually have a soft spot in my heart because it occurred to me that Roomie has every right to have his family down. After all, he pays rent. I even decided that I would cook a Thanksgiving dinner - hypocrite vegetarian that I am. However, my best friend, Gail, invited me out to Scottsdale to hang out with her. Since I haven't been on a fucking vacation all year and since I haven't seen Gail in over five years, I made a reservation to leave Thursday night. This would give me three days - including the dreaded Thursday - to spend with Roomie's family.
So, as I'm coming down the stairs this morning, Roomie calls and says that his sister has sent him some type of ugly email about how rude it is that I'm leaving and that I have issues with social class or some other total bullshit. Apparently, she doesn't seem to appreciate the sacrifices I'm making so...
Fuck her.
Fuck the entire goddamn week.
I'm now leaving on Tuesday night.
While I was away at the Joe Show, Roomie decided to invite his family to our house for Thanksgiving. Keep in mind, I detest the holiday known as Thanksgiving. Forget for one moment that I am a vegetarian - Thanksgiving is a holiday that represents the invasion of white men into a country that did not belong to them and the subsequent demise of the Native American people. Since part of my heritage is Native American, I simply cannot stomach a holiday that celebrates this event. Every fucking year, Roomie goes to Virginia and I get to spend QMT (quality me time)- alone.
Well, I guess I must actually have a soft spot in my heart because it occurred to me that Roomie has every right to have his family down. After all, he pays rent. I even decided that I would cook a Thanksgiving dinner - hypocrite vegetarian that I am. However, my best friend, Gail, invited me out to Scottsdale to hang out with her. Since I haven't been on a fucking vacation all year and since I haven't seen Gail in over five years, I made a reservation to leave Thursday night. This would give me three days - including the dreaded Thursday - to spend with Roomie's family.
So, as I'm coming down the stairs this morning, Roomie calls and says that his sister has sent him some type of ugly email about how rude it is that I'm leaving and that I have issues with social class or some other total bullshit. Apparently, she doesn't seem to appreciate the sacrifices I'm making so...
Fuck her.
Fuck the entire goddamn week.
I'm now leaving on Tuesday night.
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
What to Do?
This little link to today's CNN posting:
http://www.cnn.com/2005/POLITICS/11/02/feedback.president/index.html
Scary thing when you think that even Hillbillies are against Bush. What does that say about those of us who N-E-V-E-R voted for Bush? Now people are saying, "Pull out of Iraq". What kind of problems will we face if we just leave Iraq in the shamble that it is now? Oh, and if we pull troops out of Iraq, what do we do then - most likely, move them next door to Iran. What a fucking mess.
Had a tooth re-worked this morning and the goddamn novocaine STILL hasn't worn off. This is crap. Why can't novacaine for the brain be this good?
Going to a hoitie-toite event to benefit the Georgia Aquarium tomorrow night. Should be fun fucking with those rightous Republicans. Hopefully, I won't get thrown out, but if I do, look for me at ajc.com.
I'm really feeling embittered today - no, not like normally embittered, but in a glorifying-rage-type embittered. New boss and me kinda got into it yesterday because I'm so bloody bored. I actually feel sorry for him, though, because he's old-tradition Virgina boy who does things at a different pace than me. Ah well, as my buddy said, "If it's been six months and he hasn't see the "real" you yet - time for some enlightenment." Good call.
http://www.cnn.com/2005/POLITICS/11/02/feedback.president/index.html
Scary thing when you think that even Hillbillies are against Bush. What does that say about those of us who N-E-V-E-R voted for Bush? Now people are saying, "Pull out of Iraq". What kind of problems will we face if we just leave Iraq in the shamble that it is now? Oh, and if we pull troops out of Iraq, what do we do then - most likely, move them next door to Iran. What a fucking mess.
Had a tooth re-worked this morning and the goddamn novocaine STILL hasn't worn off. This is crap. Why can't novacaine for the brain be this good?
Going to a hoitie-toite event to benefit the Georgia Aquarium tomorrow night. Should be fun fucking with those rightous Republicans. Hopefully, I won't get thrown out, but if I do, look for me at ajc.com.
I'm really feeling embittered today - no, not like normally embittered, but in a glorifying-rage-type embittered. New boss and me kinda got into it yesterday because I'm so bloody bored. I actually feel sorry for him, though, because he's old-tradition Virgina boy who does things at a different pace than me. Ah well, as my buddy said, "If it's been six months and he hasn't see the "real" you yet - time for some enlightenment." Good call.
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