To Apple, Thanks for Nothing, Uriah Odell

I may look horrible in drag (no one will ever find out) but I LOVE that movie!  If you don’t get it, you really need to go watch some 90’s movies.

So after getting my phone fixed and enjoying having it back for about a week now (and dropping it, again, in a parking lot*) I decided to finally bite the bullet and sync it with the folks Vista computer to update to iOS4.  Thus far I’m not too happy with it.  I can’t multi-task or anything.  Why?  Because the phone is currently a useless pile of crap that has been “backing up” for over 8 hours! First, I had to update iTunes.  I didn’t think that would be so bad.  Two hours later, I changed my mind.  Thirty minutes after that I restarted my system.  45 minutes later I was finally able to open iTunes.  Then it took another 30 minutes for my phone to even begin syncing.

Then I said I wanted to update my OS.  Great, I thought, as it told me I had approximately 45 minutes to wait, this’ll be AWESOME to play with Pandora while I play on Facebook! Here I sit, 8+ hours later, still waiting for it to finish “Backing up Uriah’s Phone”.

On a good note, however, I finally started reading Rob Thurman’s Roadkill that I bought on release day.  And I also happened to discover that I missed the release day of her latest book.  Drat!  I absolutely MUST pick that up today when Borders opens!

I always wanted to be a farmer

Ever since I can remember I wanted to live on a farm.  Not the kind of farm where you killed things, but the kind of farm where you grew things.  I always wanted to have corn, broccoli, lettuce, dairy cows, etc.  I wanted to go outside and pick dinner, not pull it out of a sack.  Recently I discovered hydroponics, so I figured I’d give it the good ol’ college try.

Thus far I’m merely experimenting, but I figure I might as well catalogue my experiments.  I might not follow all the rules I was taught in school when it comes to experiments, but I sure as hell try.

Just planted

The day I planted my seed

I simply went to Wal-Mart and purchased a starter tray with peat pellets and had at it.  Okay, I decided not to plant 72 seeds at once because 1) I didn’t want to be overwhelmed and B) I would have had a huge harvest I couldn’t possibly consume, so I’m doing a set each week.

Day 5, some seedlings going on

This is the morning of Day 5

The lettuce is at the bottom and that huge thing is the pumpkin.  In a few hours, the watermelon, just above the lettuce, sprouted a good 2 inches.  I feel loved by my future food.  I wound up having to transplant the pumpkin into a different mini greenhouse, which it outgrew in less than an hour, so it’s now sitting in the window, thusly:

6 inches in only 6 days

This thing's gonna be HUGE!

Hopefully it’ll continue at this rate, but who knows.  I have high hopes for this pumpkin.  A nice, big Jack O Lantern and some awesome pie, at the least!  The watermelon and lettuce have also been transplanted into new mini greenhouses:

Bottles of lettuce and watermelon

Look how tall those melon seedlings are already!

That melon has grown that big in less than 24 hours.  I’m excited, for both of them.  All three of my lettuce seeds have taken, but they look kind of weak, so we’ll see what becomes of them.  Tomorrow I’m going to plant more seeds, so if they don’t take, it’s not too huge of a loss.  Still haven’t decided if I’m going to do the lettuce hydro or not for the first set.  I might do this soil and the next water culture, but who knows how I’ll feel when it comes time to transplant.

And since I haven’t read anything about hydroponic root veggies, guess what I’m doing?  That’s right, carrot and leek hydro!  I have the entire system planned and the seeds germinating, so we shall see what happens.  The only picture I have thus far is pretty boring since I sowed them only yesterday, but since you asked, why, yes, here is a picture of them in their greenhouse:

It's just dirt, you aint missing much

So exciting, right?

There.  You’re welcome.

Its Dating History Wednesday

Hey, look, I came up with a gimmick!  Go me!

So I was thinking today about some of the crazy “dates” I’ve been on.  Some of these memories are comical, some are tragic, and some are downright embarrassing.  What perfect fodder for me to give to you!

Note:  For those challenged at reading between the lines, implied meaning is conveniently placed between parentheses.  That’s () for those who don’t know that already.

Let’s start this story with a little bit of history:  Recently out of a horrible relationship filled with fireworks (which means we fought like cats and dogs, so of course the sex was fantastic) and wanting to explore my sexuality (which means I finally decided to do something about seeing all these crazy sexy guys and get some cock) I joined this online “dating” site (dating is in quotes because it’s a site that was designed to help men find other men who were currently horny so they could fuck without having to end up being arrested like George Michael’s and the whole Bathroomgate thing), because, let’s face it, Craigslist is great for finding a used couch/refrigerator/drug dealer, but trying to find a disease free guy…good luck.

A large chunk of the guys were strictly looking for hookups (which are stories for a completely different post)(the prior set of parentheses were not for those challenged at reading between the lines, but strictly for clarifying that this post is not about some fling filled with crazy sex had with an amazing Latin lover…not that it ever happened…and not that it couldn’t…it very well could…and might have…carry on), but some of the guys were actually looking for something a little more long-term than a one hour meet & fuck.  That’s where I met this guy…let’s call him Fuzz.  Now Fuzz, on paper, seemed like a great guy.  He had a personality, the same dry sense of humor, and was intelligent.  The fact we were both in food service was also a plus.

He invited me out one night with a group of his friends to play pool, and we wound up hanging out and talking for hours.  It seemed like things were going swell.

And then we went on a REAL date…

Firstly, having spent years in management, if I’m going to go on a date with a manager, I completely expect there to be a phone call and/or tardiness.  So the fact our 7pm dinner was pushed back to almost 9pm didn’t faze me.  I was actually prepared and waited at the coffee shop we were to meet at with a magazine and a book.  Shit happens, especially for managers of restaurants.  I didn’t expect, however, for our plans to be completely changed and for me to have to find my way into some neighborhood I’d never been to, nor even knew existed, with only a five minute time frame in order to pick him up instead of meeting at said coffee shop.  I agreed to a date, not to be a coffee delivery man.

I had planned on taking him to a great Thai place I’d scoped out with a “friend” (it’s in quotes because we had dated and had great sex and still occasionally hung out and watched porn together so, basically, she was kind of a special friend without having any benefits other than getting to listen to her moan and the like, as that would have been written “FRIEND” instead of merely “friend”) which it turns out closed at 9pm.  Apparently Fuzz didn’t like the idea of having a romantic dinner under the stars in the bed of a pickup.  Strike one, Fuzz.

So we wound up at Buffalo Wild Wings, sipping drinks, and neither of us enjoying ourselves because we couldn’t hear no matter how loud we were and we kept getting horrible looks and threatening glares from the other drunken male patrons.  Then his phone goes off.  It was a friend, “Hey, come help me fix my car!”

The date then devolved into him stripping into a wife beater (which I thought would be sexy but HOLY SHIT he had more back hair than a chimp!) and crawling around underneath a car (ok, that was kind of sexy) while I sat and chatted with his friend, who, it turns out, was a friend of mine from high school’s completely annoying little brother.

We then wound up at Jim’s (think Denny’s with better food and worse service) with his friend and his friend for four hours.  Then I took him home and got an, “I’d invite you in, but my mom’s asleep on the couch, but maybe we could…you know…park in the driveway…”  Yeah, sure, Fuzz, let’s just park in the driveway and have wild, crazy butt sex in front of the livingroom window RIGHT WHERE YOUR MOTHER CAN WATCH US FUCK!

“Sounds great, but I’ve got to be at work in an hour.”

“Oh…ok…next time, then. It was…nice…”

Cue awkward hug with a 6′ plus guy in a tiny truck and me driving away thinking “holy shit I’ve met someone worse at dating than me!”

So, why did Fuzz strike out? I mean, sure, talking about your ex who’s obsessed with you to the point of carving your name into his chest while institutionalised and the other ex of yours you set him up with but the guy really only agreed because he thought the guy was kind of hot and was hoping for some super crazy porn style three-way action was bad enough, but, seriously, there are razors for a reason. Watching that guy propose to his chick through a message shaved into his back hair was funny, but, ultimately, not something I wish to experience.

Plus, I don’t enjoy having sex with a laptop sharing bed space. I enjoy using every bit of bed space there is to use during sex, thank you very much and, unfortunately, Fuzz had this obsession with technology and had to have a gadget touching him constantly.  I asked about showering but, honestly, I was too terrified to ask about how that worked while having sex.  The laptop-on-the-bed-thing is the best case scenario.  Worst case involves a corded mouse and strange gyrations in order to play Minesweeper.

Anyone else got any crazy horrid dates they’ve been on? Care to share?

I cant stop reading this

So a couple of years ago I started reading Sluggy Freelance and fell in love with it. It wasn’t a love at first sight thing by any means. I just couldn’t get that first set of strips out of my head and finally decided to sit down and read the damned thing. This was around September of 2007. I finally finished the archives and caught up during this storyline (at which point I promptly stopped reading). That was a lot of reading.

And a lot of inspiration. Not for stories, unfortunately, although I don’t think anyone can beat Abrams’ imagination. But it makes me want to draw. Drawing has always been something I enjoy, but it’s always been something I’ve had to work at, and no one has ever supported me in it. Ever.

With music I have talent. I’m not the best musician, but if you throw an instrument at me, I can play it. I’m the same way with writing essays and mechanics. There are just certain things certain people have a knack for. Those are my things.

So why not just go forth and do one of those things I have a knack for? Because that would be easy, and I don’t like easy. I mean, yeah, the slut at the bar makes for a great one night stand, but do you really want a relationship with someone who puts out that fast?  Who else has she been with?  Do you really feel you can have a worthwhile relationship with that person?  What makes that relationship so worthwhile is the work you both put into it, not how fast you nailed it.

So I’ve decided to actually put in the work. I’ve started drawing everyday. I’m getting better but I’m nowhere near showing anything I’ve done yet to anybody.

But someday, I’ll have my story published, somewhere, with pretty pictures and action scenes, and someone will be entertained.  And that’s what makes it all worth while.

SOOOO tired, but must bloggy

So this new store…yeah…see, people, if I wanted to smell like a bartender, I would be a bartender.  But, alas, I am not a bartender, and yet I leave work smelling of cheap beer, cigarettes, and pot.  The people are polite, though.  No arguments about sandwiches not being fresh, no complaints about Subway (since we don’t have one)…

Really, we don’t even have a hose for the mop sink, y’all! And the ice down (that thing where beer is kept on ice, seriously, I have to explain EVERYTHING to you people, gah!) doesn’t even drain.  Nope, it has a valve and we put the mop bucket under it and oh G-D somebody shoot me now!

Other than that it’s not really too bad.  It would be like if I worked in my neighborhood…which I don’t…for a reason…

Then there’s “creepy-seemingly-homeless-guy” who you can’t tell is drunk or just that crazy.  Other than seeming crazy, he didn’t appear intoxicated…  Really, he reminds me of 90% of the homeless guys in downtown Savannah.  I was waiting for him to break out his trumpet and start playing for tips…or make a palm frond rose and try to sell them.

And then the “crweens” came in.

Crweens: noun

1) Creepy Tweens/Teens

These two girls, one covered in tattoos and looking ~20 years old, the other looked about 14, stand by the door closest to my register and the one in tattoos starts going off about how the other one (the true crween) thinks I’m just “sooooo cute, and, like, are you single, cuz she needs a boyfriend” and I ignored them in favor of the customer I was doing business with.  Then they walk up and are all “OMG yer hot, you should, like, totally take her out” and I was all “I don’t think my boyfriend would like that” and the one with the tattoos just runs out the door and the other girl seemed completely mortified and couldn’t remember her pin number and then just ran out the door a few minutes later.  It was funny.  Now, if the blonde had actually been around my age and hot, this whole thing would have gone completely differently and, hopefully, rather Skinamax-ely, but, meh, I’m not picky.  Although that extremely hot bear from my old store…yeah…I need to go now, it’s hard to type and…yeah….

Why can’t I get the cool jobs? It’s all Target’s fault!

All I want is an awesome job that gives me awesome things to write about for you awesome people who read my blog.  But can I?  No.  Why?  Ask Target.

See, there’s this guy who spent 24 hours in Wal-Mart and then wrote, not one, but two entries to Zug about his stay at The Mart of Wal, and can I do anything like that for you guys to enjoy?  NO!  Why?  Because Target isn’t cool enough to be open 24 hours, and when I tried to apply, they told me they “didn’t have any positions open at the current time”.  Well, you know what, Target?  Your mom had plenty of positions open for me last night and I didn’t hear her complaining.  Yeah, that’s right, I said it.  YOUR MOM’S A WHORE, Target, and I’m gonna prove it to the world!  That’s the real reason you aren’t open 24 hours, isn’t it?  Because you gotta be your mom’s pimp.

No wonder you charge so much for your store brand products.

That’s it, I’m boycotting Target, at least until they start actually offering good-looking prostitutes in their clearance aisle.  Who’s with me?

It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want too, dammit!

So I decided that since I couldn’t actually go out on my birthday I would go out last night and party.  And I did.  Only, I’ve gotten to the point where “partying” actually means “sitting-at-IHOP-drinking-coffee-and-enjoying-completely-horrible-service-because-NO-I-guess-I-wasn’t-hungry-after-all-Mr.-Server-Guy”.  It’s a rather odd occurrence.  Partying used to totally be about how much beer/vodka could I down in 20 minutes before stripping and running around naked until someone finally decided to pay me to put my clothes back on (as I’ve said before, I’ve always been quite the scam artist/drug dealer entrepeneur) or someone starting having sex in the middle of the Twister game.

Have I just gotten old?  Is this what life’s going to be like after 27?  Now that I’ve hit 27, there is no fun, no games, just sitting around like the guys waiting to die in 1984 until I finally learn to love Big Brother?  That’s not the life I want!  I want to be 19 again.