The Rapin' Ranch in a Shit Covered Car

Finally the freaking finals of the fucking fat freaky fuck are finished!! I am so happy to be finished with the summer session of school.

So the day before finals, I get a text from a friend, "do you want to go to a concert with me?" - SUUUUUUUURE why not.... who is it? I do admit that I have a bad habit of agreeing first and asking details later! Bad Myke....BAD! Now my luck I probably agreed to go see Power Rangers Vs. Barney Reunion Tour.... in Filipino..."Pag-ibig ko sa iyo.... Pag-ibig mo sa akin... Masaya kami ng isangpamilya!!" .... ahhhhh HEEEELP!!!

Luckily for me it was not. Although looking back - I would have made a good time out of it... of course I would probably be writing this blog via pencil and paper from jail; sending it through a black market chain of crackheads, rough-necks, thugs, guards and an ice-cream man just to get the written nonsense to "the spot" to be put up on the internet. All so y'all can say, "damn this fool needs help." See what I'd do for good writing....

I know how disappointed yous (I'm trying to fit in up here...I don't think its working) are that it is not the Reunion Tour... but instead it was to Maroon 5 and Train. I usually try not to critique people... ok so that's a lie... I usually don't' critique people with good lawyers (now we're tellin' da troof), but there really isn't much to critique.

To start out, I drive to meet up with the ladies... well 1 lady, 1 teenager, 1 young lady (and her boyfriend). Then here is where the craziness begins.... I really still think that I give off a beacon that says "Craziness Welcome."

Let's see if you can follow this.... the young lady's boyfriend was going to pick up the teenager's friend... but she was not going to go to the concert with us. We were going to take her to where the concert was, and then swap her out for a teenage boy so that the teenage girl can visit with her boyfriend who is the brother of the other teenager. These 2 had driven up from Virginia. Yes Virginia... I take my hat off to this father that drove them up. Because... um... I would not. I'd be like, "look- if you can't find a girlfriend, boyfriend, any friend in the city... no fuck that... on the same STREET we live on... you are gonna be one lonely mofo because I am not driving 1000 hours just so you can just walk around and "hang out" with your girlfriend." Besides as teenagers, shouldn't they be focusing on school? I know I waaa... ok I'm not gonna finish that lie either...

At first I was like... great- teenagers... another reason I am going to be writing a blog from jail... I can't stand mouthy teens. Thank god these kids were scared of me. It was probably because I told them that I just got out of prison, and this was the first time my probation officer was allowing me around people under 18, because the last time... well, I learned that when you break someone's jaw for back-talking, that you also break your parole! Ok- no I didn't- but that would have been funny! They were actually really pleasant to be around.

On the drive to the concert (which was in Hershey, PA) a big Septic truck drove past us. It shit all over the front of the vehicle we were in. I guess that was the shitty-ist part of the entire trip... because it was .... well ... shitty!! I got a really good laugh out of it... all I kept thinking about was 2 things... my good friend I used to fly with and our "Sherwin Williams" analogy (I'll get to that another time) and Scary Movie, "I'll shit on these walls Ray!"

We arrive, we do the switch (like some crackhos exchanging crack for crack) and go to get lunch... but of course not before we go to the "Chocolate World" , or "World of Chocolate" or "Whatever the Hell its Called" - "Chocolate Tour." Even though I have worked in 2 of the major theme parks in the world... I was still scared. First of all, cows are NOT supposed to sing. I mean unless you are on LSD.. then I am sure they do a lot of other things too... but in most cases- they don't sing. Secondly, if you are going to have stuffed singing cows... PLEASE... please please please please occasionally send someone through the ride and have them at least dust off the dirt that accumulates on the bottom "lip that moves like some Chucky doll from a freaky-ass movie" of said stuffed cows so that it does not look like they have some strange form of rabies that makes them foam black at the mouth. Think about da babies.... think about da babies!!

We go eat - real quick - all I have to say... NO A/C... Um- you are a CHAIN restaurant... Red Robin- better get it together... I can't be sitting and sweating and eating. No Ma'am!

Meal- finished.

We ask the waitress (and her little prissy-ass attitude) where we should park. She told us- we go there.

......Now.... hmmm... how do I say this... Well... I don't know her story... but... why would she send us to park at the Rapin Ranch? No... not the ROPIN Ranch... You read right... the RAPIN' Ranch. I mean granted that is not what it was REALLY called- but it was obvious that is what this place was. You know on those scary movies where there is an old abandoned "store-front" with broke down cars all around forming a "wall" so you can't see inside the dirty windows where you can see victims have scraped with their little dingy fingers "help me" in the dust.... well, we were there. Except instead of broken down cars around it... there were busses. It was hidden in the corner of this "lot" we were in. As creepy as it was, my creative side still managed to get the best of me... I just started to imagine the marketing campaigns for this place:

"No means No, Except at the RnR where its opposite day!"

Then I thought... WAIT A MINUTE... I think they are working somewhat with Lowe's....

"You can do her... we can help!"

"The Rapin Ranch... A surprise in every van"

"Its like prison...without the guards"

Before I go on, I have to make a disclaimer, because it has become more apparent to me that even people who claim to be my friends are very sensitive to things (how they still talk to me is baffling because I find pretty much nothing offensive as long as its said in jest (not Zest the soap, although I appreciate it if they are saying it clean smelling)- and not with ill intent.

I am not trying to make light of rape... it is NOT ok.

Although I am really thankful for rape... because without it... some people could not eat, animals would be in turmoil.

Ummmm..... not rape as you think of it you evil hookers!!! Brassica Napus... Look it up... educate yourselves you up-tight bastards!

So we leave the Rapin' Ranch and head over to the concert... fast forward.

The concert starts.

Did I forget to mention that it was raining? Well it was.

The first band - I can't remember the name of the band... of course I spent this time standing in line for beer... errr I mean water... I don't drink. (when I sleep)

The drummer looked like the Kool-Aid guy. Now I have my share of "big" friends. And I love my big gup guhls and big boy friends... but they don't ever wear a shirt that makes me think when I see them, "HEY KOOL-AID"... "OH YEAAAAAAH"

There are 2 fat (now you know I only use this term when I can't stand someone... I usually use the term chunky) drunk hos in front of us. Fine. They are drunk. They are fat. So what right? WRONG. I don't care how big you are, or how drunk you are... just... please.... just... don't be farting when you are within "smelling" range of me. And I could tell it was them, because they would be dancing (if you can call that dancing) and they were clapping, then suddenly they would get a concentrated look on their face... they would kinda stop dancing, sway (off beat) and brrrrrrmp- let 'er rip! Then they spent most of the concert taking pictures of themselves. "Oh thats a bad one... let's retake it."

"Um, sweetheart.... this is not a concert... its an intervention. We just want to gather here today to tell you... you are addicted to thinking that you can take a good picture.... you are ugly."

Train was a very good performer. I truly was impressed. Even though I enjoy his music, I wasn't sure if I was going to enjoy Train's performance. I was wrong.

Maroon 5... as much as I love them. I was slightly disappointed. Not in the music. Adam sings great- in fact I LOVE his voice, but he spent most of the concert with his back to the audience.

Oh, oh, oh, oh... I almost forgot the Short Haired Electric Epileptic Shake Lady.

I do not think she was dancing. I think after about 64 beers, shots, and whatever else she was drinking mixed with the flashing lights on the stage... SHE, was not dancing. The people she was with were holding her hands as she was... well... shaking... just smiling. Of course it wasn't that "I'm happy" kinda smile. It was more like... well... when you see a baby, and they are smiling ear to ear... but its not a "I am a happy baby" smile, it more of a "I just shit myself" smile.... well... that was her smile. She kept pulling on the 2 guys she was with. I am assuming one was her husband and the other was her son. (Bless her heart) I wanted to be like.. HELP HER DAMMIT... but... I didn't want to be bothered.

So.....

That was my last day of school. I will be in Chicago next week for my book signing... Got ya!! I still have a little bit before I get to do that... one day though.

I will be in Chicago next week though. An entire week of me wandering around a big city... look out world!! Then I will be in Tampa, FL for a wedding. I smell something... and no this time its not the Offbeat Fat Farting Twins in front of me... its ADVENTURE!!!

"Always do sober what you said you'd do drunk. That will teach you to keep your mouth shut" ~Ernest Hemingway (1899- 1961)

Hills Brown Like Cow Caca

This is truly going to be a ranting- so if you are easily offended (more than likely if you read my blog you are not), or don’t like negativity (hey, sometimes it even happens to me)… then you probably should stop reading now. I will let you know when I am back to talking about bubblegum, rainbows and sprinkles on cupcakes!

So I don’t know what has been up with me lately- I have been in the foulest mood. So unlike me. I usually have a way of just letting things roll of my back like a nickel placed on a jheri curl… just SLIDE right off… not so much lately- the smallest things aggravate me.

I would like to be able to pinpoint what exactly it is… I just don’t seem to have time. My schedule seems to be school, work, cook, clean (sometimes),school, garden, cook, work, school, cook… Luckily work has cut back my hours pretty drastically, so that is giving me some more free time… but even that free time is taken up by something else.

School… well… I said I was still forming my opinion about this session- I officially have one. IT SUCKS!

I think I was terribly spoiled with both professors and classmates during my last session. I sadly admit that even though I was reluctant about Algebra- I finished up with a B. He was a very good professor, a little strange- but hey, who isn’t? The classmates all were… interesting. There was at least some kind of talking- about more than just finding X.

My English class (session 1) – well everyone knows how much I really loved that. The professor was as crazy as the rest of the class- which made it a fun learning environment. Plus, with the professor being a freelance translator- of course I naturally held her a lot higher than all the other professors considering I hope to one day do that as well.

Now this session….. :::deep breath:::

I try to approach everything with a clean slate. I really do.

Sociology- took it in high school- loved it.

Now in college… I still love the subject- I even really like the professor… but the class!! Where do I begin? Day 1- well… I walked in- no one was sitting next to each other. No one talking. Bad sign for Mr. Mouth of the South here… I like to talk- and hello dammit- this is SOCIOLOGY! The one girl that works my nerves the most is this really sloppy chunky…no FAT girl that sits right next to the door with her really short- half nappy, half dry, half greasy jheri curl. Of course I only knew this is how her hair was by about the 3^rd day because the first couple days she had a plastic bag on her head… yes… plastic bag- not a doo-rag, not a shower cap…a plastic bag. Like the kind from the grocery store. Then to top it off, this big blob of afro-sheen has the audacity to sit there and either text, or play games on her phone most of the class. On roughly the 3^rd day (I think) our professor – who usually jokes about drinking 40s and smoking crack on High Street (now y’all see why I like him) – was talking about some statistics sociologists did on abortion. Well apparently this stank skag whore didn’t like what he was saying and made a point to say how it was wrong. Um- excuse me ho- but this ain’t your class- so shut up! For one- he was not trying to say if it was right or wrong- he was just reading statistical analysis. (Probably a word too big for her jelly belly to understand) So she gets up and walks out of class. Just walks out. BYE!! Don’t let the door hit ya where the good lord split ya- ya fat ignorant COW!

I have no time for bullshit like that! I am sorry- this is an adult learning establishment…there are going to be some topics you do not agree with- that’s the point in learning!! If we spend our entire lives stuck in a tiny little narrow-minded tunnel- then yes… you might as well pack up your shit, and crawl underneath the stall at the local Wawa, and spend your life there among the bacteria growing on the tile.

On a side-note- I have still never been in a Wawa- so for all I know- they probably have clean bathrooms- I was just using them because I like to say Wawa… even though in certain Spanish dialects- that’s how it sounds in slang for “Bus”, and in Quechua it means “Children”- so now you can take your Wawa on the guagua to the wawa (however they are properly spelled)… back to my bitterness….

I guess if I had to pick a class I liked the best out of the 2 I have now… it would have to be Sociology- because at least I like the professor, and the subject matter… where my next class- I just like the subject matter.

English… :::sigh:::… I have never wanted to take a bucket of hot bacon grease and dump it on someone as badly as I want to on my professor. Then top it off with a pot of hot cheese grits… extra cheese so that it sticks, and slooooooowly drips and burns. On the first day- I could tell there was something… not right. I tried… LAWD KNOWS I TRIED… to approach the situation with an open mind and a clean slate… why- because that’s what I do! Even after introductions (which we all did for each other- and he didn’t even volunteer any information about him- big surprise) – I knew there was something… I couldn’t put my finger on it… but as they say in Hindi- Dahl-me kuch kala hain (there’s something black in the dahl). His syllabus… vague… He might as well of just wrote “___” on a black paper- at least then it would be less confusing. And don’t ask for clarification… well you can, if you want to have someone make you feel like you are the stupidest person that walked the face of the earth! I STILL tried to have an open mind- even after a couple of other class-mates were saying how they had friends that had him before and how shitty of a professor he was – I still was like… “well, we should give him a chance.” Yeah… fuck that- he is a shitty professor. Now I love to write… obviously – otherwise I would not write this blog, or write music, or write poetry… however, I do not claim that I am the next Stephen King. I know I am no Hemmingway, or sadly I am no Khalil Gibran. But- I enjoy it. After my first essay in this class (which by the way he was so vague about his expectations, I would have had a better chance squeezing an apple and getting orange juice than getting a straight forward answer from him in class) I got the LOWEST grade I have EVER received on an essay. A C+. The plus was because it was not TOO painful to read. Really? Fuck you! You know what is painful? Well, even if you do not want to know I will tell you… your class! Sitting there dissecting literature to the point that it is no longer artistic. I said it before, and I apologize to those that also follow me on the book of facing (to quote my “adopted brother”) – Dissecting literature is like trying to appreciate the beauty of a rose by reading its molecular structure. Then you have the NERVE to say that you do not agree with my opinion… AND take points OFF… really? If we want to talk about disagreements… I disagree that you want a “professional” classroom, yet you feel that you can come to class in jeans and an un-tucked t-shirt. In addition to that- you enjoy telling people that you do not agree with their opinions so they are not correct. Well… I hate to break it to you… Opinions are like assholes my friend- everyone has one- and everyone’s stink! Get over yourself!

Now you may be like “oh my god Myke, you’ve gone too far… it’s just a grade, why not take it like a man.”

I have NO problem accepting a grade if I did a shitty job, OR , if the points being taken off are indeed fair points. Ding me for grammar, spelling, punctuation- SHIT THAT MATTERS! Don’t tell me you think I took a way to “abstract” view on the piece and feel that just because I won’t be able to get people to “argue” my “argument” that it is not good. AHHHHHHH- He is so lucky I am not a man of revenge, otherwise I would find his car, and shit in his windshield-wiper fluid… but I would wait until a nice HOT day to do it!

It’s no wonder people do not like Literature. Probably the same reason I hated math until I had the professor I did last session- the teachers!

I have always loved English. I love languages. I love words! How else can we express ourselves? But when you get a pompous jack-ass who feels that HIS standard is only inferior to that of… oh wait.. NO ONE… then how the hell is anyone ever going to become a great writer?

OH OH OH… and to top it off… the one person that DID get an A in the class- happens to be a Literature major (big surprise) and she told me that she “paraphrased” a story, and didn’t have the book- so she wasn’t able to cite it- AND she mentioned this to the teach (according to her)… AND STILL GOT AN A!! Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME?? I get counted off because my opinion is abstract, yet you get praised for plagiarizing?

I talked to my best friend about this (who has really been the only one that has not been like- ok Myke- just shut up, I’m tired of hearing about this- but then again- she gets me better than anyone in the world sometimes I think) and she said that she had a professor like this once too. She said that all I need to do is follow is rubric and put nothing more into than that.

Then I talked to my mother… good ol’ mom. That crazy lady (bless her heart). She said, “just remember you look at YOU in the mirror, not him. Be true to yourself, and true to your writing. I know you are worried about your grade, but don’t sell yourself out.” I was like- wow- Gangstah Mammy is back!

Now I have to figure out how to put the advice of my best friend into place, and still doing what my mom suggested and not become a lil punk bitch and sell out my style and way of writing simply because the professor doesn’t like it.

I mean- I don’t like the stupid freaking religious poems we had to read, and how they are compared to Jesus and God and stuff… but I still have to read the pieces of shit… so he should be able to deal with mine…

OH – and another thing- he doesn’t even read them BEFORE you meet with him. You submit it online- and then go into his cubicle at your “set time” – even though he was 20 minutes late… but does he get points off… NO! Then after you go into his cubicle- you sit and wait for him to read it. “mmm… ugh… no…hmm- yea, this is wrong- you want to say this” … um No mother fucker, if I wanted to say this I would have- I wanted to say THAT for a reason!

Ok ok ok ok ok… I will shut up about this- otherwise I will go on too long!

On a side note… I went to the podiatrist today. Thank god nothing was broken. He said that it looks like I either tore or stretched the hell out of a tendon (or maybe it was a ligament, who knows)… all I heard was NOT BROKEN, so that’s all I cared about.

This just shows the power of writing- after firing off at the mouth for these some 2,000 words… I actually feel a lot better. Therapy. Free therapy.

Now I have to go into class- and present my Annotated Bibliography about “Hills White Like Elephants” … because THAT was not an abstract piece of writing. Of course I couldn’t write anything on my OWN opinion, I just had to go and read what other critics said- and summarize their opinions… because after all, why would I have an opinion- I am just a student – (but at least I have a male’s name).

Hopefully next blog will be filled back again with roses and candy and a side of fried chicken (which by the way I still haven’t had since I moved to Pennsylvania)….

“The truest characters of ignorance are vanity, and pride and arrogance” ~Samuel Butler (1835-1902)

An Ankle in Hand is Worth a Puke in the Bush

It's 4am - what the hell am I doing awake?

There has been a lot going on lately; time neither stands still, nor passes quickly. It just seems to be a never ending day that lasts for weeks.

I finished out my summer 1 session of school. I am so happy to rid myself of math homework. Now granted if you know you, this will come of no surprise to you. I do not like math. Never have- probably never will. I do not understand it. There is nothing within math that can "move" a person... I mean unless you can refer to "moving" as "annoying the SHIT out of someone"... I guess a bowel movement can be considered a movement... but in my case- not movement enough. I am mathematically constipated I guess. I don't mind solving for "x"- actually I sometimes like that... but don't ask me to find the damn equation... ummm, hello- this is math not Jeopardy, you're supposed to teach me how to find the answer... if you already know the answer, than we don't need to work out the problem... YOU HAVE THE ANSWER- why the hell do you need to know the question? None-the-less, I am so extremely happy that is over with!

Now my first English class on the other hand. I am very sad to leave. Not just because I had an awesome professor who really made me challenge myself in my essays, but because the class itself was really fun. We had a very interesting mix of students- as you probably previously read about Ronald McDonald and Strung Out Little Orphan Annie's love child- Ronald McDonald for short.

Side Note: Before I forget- I saw her today while waiting on my second English class to start. I was sitting in the hallway, and another girl from my previous class (who is taking the same English II as me) was standing in front of me chatting. Ronald McDonald walked by and looked at me- said nothing, and then said "Hi" to the other girl. I mean granted I didn't expect her to go out of her way to be nice to me... I mean I did pseudo-accuse her of being a prostitute after she said that she expected if she was giving a man her time at dinner that he would pay for it. Sorry! Isn't that what a prostitute expects... She gives you her time, you give her the dollars!! - General rules of "Pimpin and Ho-in." Anyways- back to my regular blabbing....

The point is I really enjoyed that English class.

After I finished out the summer 1 session- I had about a week of before I started session 2. What to do? Why not have an adventure? Why not immerse myself in something cultural? Why not do something I have never done before? Why not go to the Daytona Races..... Adventure- yes, cultural... well... that depends if you consider the race culture, which I would like to talk about for a minute.

When I think of culture... I think of... well... something more in depth than camouflage; more than an overweight, toothless, stringy-haired women in a tube top with a cigarette hanging out her mouth and a "youngen" on her side. When I think of culture, I don't think about a guy in cowboy boots, frayed cut-off jean shorts, a mullet with a permed top, and a shirt from the local flea market that was air-brushed "Dale Earnhardt Fan Forever" - as culture. However- it is amusing to say the least!

I am leaving out a minor event that happened before I embarked on this journey. Two days before I left for Florida- I twisted my ankle. True Myke style. Clumsy as all get out! I was going out to check on my garden- missed the bottom step of my deck- came down on the ground (which was soft) and rolled my ankle. I couldn't have hit it any harder. I hit the ground- and after I heard the POP, all I could do was cuss. I am surprised that the neighbors didn't have a prayer circle that night for me- simply because of the words that were coming out of my mouth. I never knew that I knew so many cuss words in so many languages... hell I think I even invented some. So- during this adventure- please keep my ankle in mind.

Back to Florida. We depart Philly. Flying on my least favourite airline in the world. Air-Trash as I like to refer to it. The airline with no seats, no room. And even though the planes have 2 classes - business, and economy- the truth is the airline itself has NO class. We have a stop in Atlanta... of course because these days you can't go to hell first without stopping off in Atlanta. I have learned that between my aviation 'career' and just my experience in traveling- that Atlanta is aviation's purgatory. No problems on that leg. The flight attendants were friendly. Ghetto, but friendly. "Um exshooze me ma'am... yea, um-arr-aa, I know'd that you jus' got on the plane all late and stuff.. but Ima ax do NOT turn on yo phone... thank you!" Yes, that is what one said. I loved it!

Atlanta to Orlando... now that is another story. We circle Orlando, and can't land because of weather- then we get low on fuel... redirected to Tampa. MOTHA FUCKA!!

Then once we get to Tampa- the weather there gets bad...so we can't leave there.

We finally arrive in Orlando after they release and blah blah all that garbage- about 3 hours late.

I will skip the "welcome back/ birthday party" at Red Coconut... only because I really don't remember too much of it. I learned quickly that pain medication and Jack Daniels do help you forget that you may have a fractured, or sprain ankle and allow you to dance; however, they do NOT mix well.

I do want to apologize publicly however, to Perkins, for passing out in my breakfast, telling the waitress "it is ok you fucked up my order, I feel sorry for you because you are white", and puking in their bushes. Apparently this is what happens when I hang out with my West Indian crew. God I miss them!!

The following day- I was hurting. I looked ROUGH. I mean bad. I am talking like I rolled down a mountain of shit and landed in a sea of stank! My eyes were red, my head hurt, my stomach... lets not even go there... and did I mention my ankle? I looked so rough, that the devil himself would have taken pity on me. If I were a dog, you would have put me to sleep- kinda rough!

Our group drove to Daytona from Orlando.

On the way- we had to stop to get pickles for the tailgate party. When we pulled into the Publix (God how I miss Publix) parking lot- I had to abandon ship. I jumped out and ran- rather walked extremely fast- into the store. Every step I took my mouth filled more and more with saliva. That feeling that tells you- WARNING WARNING- YOU ARE ABOUT TO PUKE! Of course this is the ONE damn Publix where the restrooms are NOT in the front of the store. Oh no... "lets put them in the back of the store. Let's put them there so that the people who think they are still 21 and go out partying the night before will have to come in, and panic with they see they are not in the usual spot. Let's make it so that they have to pass all the vendors that are trying to give you a free sample of their greasy food that smells up the entire aisle. Let's put it in the back so that when said person finally makes it to the back of the store, where the restrooms are hidden in a far corner, they can puke in a bathroom that is so private, no one will notice that there is already a couple in the stall next to them having sex." ...... yes..... I said it, and I meant it.

I get into the bathroom, bust into the only open stall. Bend over the toilet (there is no way I am going to kneel down and put my knees on that nasty floor), and I hear moans in the stall to my right. Now either the person next to me had the same kind of night I did, and miraculously grew an extra set of feet (I eventually noticed 4 feet), or they were fucking! So while I was saying "oh god" begging for mercy... the other stall was saying "oh god" bawling out in ecstasy. I was bending over puking.. and the other was.... well, you get the picture. Why does this shit only happen to me?

The races were better than I thought- a little long- but I won't bore you with details- other than there were a lot of mullets, a lot of camo, and not that many teeth. The excitement of the race was when they started the engines, when they crashed, and the last 3 laps. I can sum it up : vroom, boom, yay!

The flight back- SUCKED. I was delayed 2 hours; they made me check my carry-on because there was no room because the bastards coming out of Orlando had all their Disney shit crammed into the overheads like sardines. ONE CARRY ON AND ONE PERSONAL ITEM you selfish fucks!! 4 Disney bags is not ONE personal item. THEN- I got to sit next to a heavy-set lady with constant flatulence. I mean CONSTANT. I think the only way that ho could have passed more gas is if a Chevron tanker sailed out her ass. NASTY. And to top it off... she would occasionally reach down and fan her skirt... NO HEFFA, NO!!! No one wants to smell your stank-ness... Don't be fanning it out so everyone else can bask in its glory- that's YOUR funk- keep it to yourself.

I get back to Philly- there is a delay getting my checked bag. I finally get it. The shuttle to go pick up the car.... late. I get to the parking lot. I forgot where the car was parked (big surprise). Finally find it. Get to the exits to pay. The gate won't go up. So I have to wait for them to raise the gate. It was HELL. I just wanted to be home!

I finally get home.

Finally.

Praise Geebus....

I get to sleep. Wake up early- and go to my first day of class for Summer Session II.... that adventure, will be another blog!

"Etiquette tip: More people will get out of your way if you say "I'm gonna puke!" than if you say "Excuse me." ~Unknown

Kickbox-Salsa + Clowns = Crazy

Here I sit.

It's 12:41am...

The dining room table is covered in books, paper, pens, pencils, highlighters. Did I mention that they are pretty much scattered from hell to breakfast? I have finally finished 2 chapters of homework, I still have 3 more chapters to finish.

Why the HELL did I ever decide to go back to school?

I have been wanting to update this blog for the longest... but... I haven't - get over it!

School is coming along fine. Algebra... well... its math, what do you expect. The professor is good - a little strange - but he's a mathematician what do you expect? The other day in class I actually got a little scared. Out of no where he starts talking about staying away from "Happy the Clown"... really? Now I know I was sitting in class on only roughly 2 hours of sleep... but did this man just mention a freaking clown named "Happy?" And then...yes folks, it gets better... after I space out a little bit -remember I was tired- I am brought back to earth with "if it looks like a monkey- smack it". WHAT THE HELL?? So I can officially say what I have learned in algebra is about masturbating clowns named Happy. WOW! I don't know what was scarier, the fact he was talking about it, or that it actually related to the lesson. Way to go PA schools!

English on the other hand is awesome. I am sure it's no shock that I love English. I can't even begin to tell you how I look forward to this class. I thought I was an English nerd before, but I am even more so now. At first I was a little unsure of the class. There is quite a mixture. (You know me, I always gotta talk about folk- so here we go) I managed to meet one person before the class even started. I can't remember if I mentioned her in my previous post... if I did- oh well, she's cool enough to mention twice. Let's just say shes about as right in the head as I am... I knew she was gonna turn out a great person to sit next to in class. Let's just say there is never a dull moment. There are, however, 2 people that we have given the nicknames of Ronald McDonald and the Hamburgerlar. No, not for the reasons you think. I would love to say its because she (Ronald) brings us french fries and milk shakes.... NEGATIVE! Its because she is as creepy as a clown, and actually looks like the love child of Ronald McDonald and a strung out Little Orphan Annie. I was trying to be nice- but this woman...::::sigh:::: I don't even know how to start. Well, let's just say that she is offended by the word FUCK; she thinks that her college aged daughter doesn't use language like that; and probably thinks that she (her daughter) is not having sex. Meanwhile she probably has the nickname Gangbang Betty! I don't get people who are so righteous. It must be nice to have such rose coloured glasses on all the time. I try to make a point to say shit and fuck and damn and bitch and whore and slut and anything else offensive around her. Why- because clowns scare me!!

I won't even get into the Hamburgerlar... ok- I lied, maybe I will. Now I know I talk... a LOT... but I like to think I have something to say... usually relevant to the topic we are talking about. This fool always starts with crap like: "I can relate... back in 1932 when the great depression was hitting most of America". :::blank stare::: um, did you just say you can relate and 1932 in the same sentence? No mofo, no!! You need to put that pipe down and shut the trap. No one wants to hear about your brother who was in and out of jail and married a homeless crackhead who has one nipple that's connected to her belly-button or whatever her ailments are- I really don't care. SHUT UP, SHUT UP , SHUT-THE-FUCK-UP! Meanwhile- it is rather fun to watch the classes faces when you start your rants and raves (usually talking over someone else)... because it proves that I am not just a mean ass bastard who can't stand to listen to your annoying vocables that you try so intelligently to say but always manage to fuck up - "that was the killer that killed people and developed narcolepsy"... no you dumb mother fucker, he did not fall asleep after he killed them, he had necrophilia and SLEPT with them after he killed them. Or that everyone should go into the army because it makes you a better person... so what if you go to war and see all your buddies killed- you come back with a sense of "meaning"... sometimes when he talks, I just want to cut his head off and shit down his throat... that way he would have a reason for all the shit that comes out of his mouth... ::::whew:::: I digress....

So onto happier things- like my friends visit. I was VERY happy to hear that a friend of mine had a layover in Philly! Finally I was going to get to see a friend!! Finally I was going to get to go out and dance. Latin dancing- here I come! Yea... NO! Let's just say that Philly's idea of salsa should stay in a jar and they should keep dipping chips in it.

side note: let me go get some chips and salsa...

ok I'm back! Where was I? Oh yea, salsa. ::shaking head:: why... please tell me WHY do people insist on mixing Beatles music with salsa music. NO! And the sad thing is- I have never had my ass beat so badly while dancing. These people were ruthless. We were tripping over the feet of people we were NOT dancing with. I felt like I walked into a kickboxing class instead of a Latin dance club. No one was enjoying the music- their faces all concentrating on "5, 6, 7 turn, 1,2,3 and spin, 5,6,7 and PUNCH" I mean thank you white people for trying to have some culture... but if you can't enjoy it... don't do it! We managed to have a great time anyways. Nothing says fun like doing the Latin-Robot in the middle of a club filled with overly serious people.

Other than that- not really much. I know that this blog was not as good as usual... my mind is so unfocused- however I did want to write something- at least to talk about the kickbox-salsa and the 2 people in my English class that annoy me!

"We should consider every day lost on which we have not danced at least once. And we should call every truth false which was not accompanied by at least one laugh" ~ Friedrich Nietzsche (1844-1900)

Water Repellent Mesh in a Parade of Stupid!

Whew... the first week of school done!

I really like the feeling of being a 'student' again. Praise da Lort that I am only taking 2 classes to start off with.

I was a little nervous my first week. I mean, being that I am :::cough cough:::: years old - its not like I am a spring chicken. But then again- I shoooole ain't no old yard bird just yet. The first class I had was Intermediate Algebra. I have it Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday. Yes, thats a lot of days a week for math!

The first day of class, I get an email from the professor with the syllabus, and necessary items for class, of which, one was a graphing calculator. Talk about feeling old. I pulled out the one at the house... well, lets say I was about 54 versions behind. I SHOULD have gone into class with that one- and an old school typewriter, and of course an old school bag phone! "Hollah!"

The class only has 14 people in it- and they are pretty mixed. I sit in the AARP corner with two ladies, one a few years older than me, and another who is a very attractive lady the age of my older sister. (Who was called a MILF in the elevator, and didn't know what it meant- so she asked someone and was completely embarrassed- but more about her later)

There is a guy who's name starts with a D (you know I don't like to use names)... who the AARP corner refers to as DTD... D(fill in the rest of name here) the Douche! He is... well, how do I describe him... I would say he has about as much personality and intelligence as watching dog crap turn white. No common sense, no book sense, no dollar cents, and hasn't had it since who knows when. Well- he has a thing for Ms. MILF. He randomly turns around and looks at her with those creepy white trash stalker-like eyes and grins. Needless to say- I make it a point to walk her to her car after class every day.

There are a few other people that I am still feeling out their personalities- but I am sure they will be written about. Overall- its a good class- even if the professor takes FOREVER (thanks to DTD) to get through a single lesson.

My second class is English Comp. I. This professor is off her rocker- I LOVE HER! She is Dutch, and speaks beautiful proper English- and she's not afraid to cuss! The class is VERY mixed with ages. From 16 (my God I forgot how immature 16 year old guys were) to 50 something. I am sitting next to a gal that has a great since of humour- I have a feeling her and I probably shouldn't sit next to each other because all we do is laugh all class!! Even the professor already commented how she wanted to move to my corner because of all the laughter... please gee-bus, hep da babies!

In addition to that- I am still working. People are still stupid and crazy there. Yesterday I had a guy come in and was upset because he thought he was supposed to get something with something that he bought. I told him that it didn't come with that. He looked me up and down and said "you don't know what the fuck you're talking about".... um... did he just say that... please lawd tell me those words did NOT just come out this big gorilla lookin wonky eyed black sock brown sandal wearing bastard. Yes, it did. So, I simply picked up the item he was referring to and shoved it right up his ass. OK- I thought about doing that- but I didn't for real- I just have to keep this interesting still. I reread it- because, don't tell anyone- but I have been known to be wrong sometimes... I mean, it doesn't happen TOO often... but I admit, it DOES happen on a rare occasion. Sure enough... this wasn't one of those occasions. I told him- "sir, I have read it, in English AND in Spanish- because I know que cono it says in Spanish too (ok I just ad libbed that part because looking back that would have been awesome to say) and it says nothing about it coming with 3 packages of the anchors, is simply 'suggests' using them." He then simply said "I must not have had my glasses when I read it." Thats it. No sorry, no my bad, no nothing. So I just said back to him... "looks like I do know what the fuck I'm talking about- now do you have anything else you need me to set straight?" - Bastard! That point in time I only had one good nerve left- which was prosthetic- and he was getting on it!

I also had a 15 minute conversation with a lady who was looking for a mesh that didn't let liquid through it. Umm you mean plastic ho!! She was convinced that there was a mesh- like a screen with 1/2 inch opening (yes opening as in open to allow stuff thru) - but.... it will not let liquid through it. I am glad that this was ODH (one dumb ho) because if she had ANY sense at all- she would have known by the look on my face that I was silently cussing her out inside my head. In fact ALL my voices, in ALL my languages had something to say about this women. What is scarier is the fact that she procreated. The only way she has the intelligence enough to get pregnant HAS to be because the egg is stationary. If she was a man, her sperm would swim backwards- that how dumb she was. She still wasn't convinced that there was not a mesh that doesn't allow liquids through it. Bless her heart.

I'm not even going to start on the mean old bitter woman that was buying top soil to put in pots for her tomatoes. I tried to let her know that topsoil is not for pots- and she blew up on me. I suggested 'potting soil' because... well, I don't know it says RIGHT ON THE BAG- FOR POTTED PLANTS.. however, she was convinced that is what you use for drainage. Dumb ass old woman- I hope her tomatoes die! Just a waste of good oxygen!

I managed to survive Rapture. Apparently this past Saturday @ 6pm Eastern Standard time because you know thats the time zone God lives in (in case you were wondering) - all the chosen people were supposed to just vanish. Just "vloop" into thin air- with their clothes just dropping off. Then the rest of the sinners would be left for 183 days (I think) to get their lives skraight wit da Lort! Those that didn't would be sent to Hell.

Well- apparently I wasn't a chosen one... either that- or so was every other person around me- because the traffic was still terrible driving home. I wanted to go around the store and just place random piles of clothes down the aisles... then make random pages over the stores intercom for people to meet their parties at customer service. But I didn't ... only because I was so stuck in a never ending parade of stupid lead by a marching band of idiots in my area. "Why is it that when I don't water my plants, the leaves fall off"- "Do the flowers ever change colours at night" - "If I plant tomatoes and lettuce and fertilize it with pig shit, will it grow a BLT sandwich" - ok- so that last one wasn't a real question- but I am waiting for someone to ask me that!

So now I am sitting here- waiting on my first class to start- then I have to go into work... this is my first time doing school and work in the same day... can you say comatose??

On a side note- my garden is all finished and doing well. The weather has been strange, but to quote my brother and sister in law- LIFE IS GOOD!!

"Every thought is a seed. If you plant crab apples don't count on harvesting Golden Delicious" ~ author unknown

The Loneliness of the American Dream

Since my last post, I have been pretty down. I am not sure exactly what is contributing to it-I just know I have been down. I could get really philosophical, but I try to keep my blogs pretty light (for the most part) because I have learned that very few people actually really want to hear about your deep thoughts, and they just want to be entertained… I guess I’m ok with that.

I have pretty much come to an overall understanding of the ‘down-ness’. I have been alone for 2 weeks. I had one week off of work which I spent a majority of it in solitude at the house and minimal interaction with other humans (ok, with anyone, it’s not like I was talking to animals or aliens) other than facebook or messenger. I have also had a couple holidays (Easter & Mother’s Day) away from family. And though I am grateful to have ‘adopted’ family here- it still is hard to be away from my loved ones I have known my entire life. In addition to all this, I really do not have any friends, which if you know me, I think you understand how I need this interaction with people- even if I manage to dislike people more and more as I get older- I still crave that interaction. It’s hard to meet people when you don’t go out. Luckily I am starting school on the 17^th, so I am sure I will meet some people to just talk to.

On a happier note, the weather has been really beautiful here, my garden is starting to take hold, and…. I FINALLY got my grass cut. I do not understand, I called 3-4 places up here to get a ‘free estimate’ that they are so proud they give, and of those, 1 said they would be out that afternoon (never showed), 1 never called back, 1 came by while I was at work, left a drink coolie thingy and a card saying they couldn’t understand my number, call back… um NO- you came out here- give me an estimate and write it down how much its going to be fool!! Finally I was checking the mail, and someone had put a flyer in my mailbox (illegally)… hell, I didn’t care it was illegal; my grass looked like I was putting Rogaine and steroids in the fertilizer! I called the guy was really nice. Well it turns out that its 2 kids (I say kids like I’m 100 years old- but I would guess these guys were around 17). They were very professional over the phone and explained that they were trying to start their business, and they would be happy to come out for the estimate. He called me back a few minutes later and said they were going to be about 15 minutes later, because his ‘business partner’ had to do something real quick. I appreciated this. They got here, and it wasn’t the huge commercial mower on the back of an expensive trailer pulled by a huge gas guzzling truck. It was simply 2 kids, in a beat up mini-van, a push mower and some other lawn tools crammed in the back. Over the phone he had explained to me he had worked for a landscaper for 2 years and really loved it and was trying to get his business off the ground. I could tell how proud he was when he got there. Both of them were very professional, shook my hand, we walked the yard, he gave the estimate- which I agreed to- and off they were cutting.

Looking back this makes me feel good. I think that is a part of America that we have forgotten. We have become so commercialized with big names, that we forget the people that are living the “American Dream”. I remember that was my favourite part about living in Austin, Texas was that people insisted on supporting local businesses. That is what made it such a cool place.

So I helped a kid take another step towards his dream of a landscaping business, and I really hope that he makes it successful! Because where all these commercial places were too busy to return my call, or simply did not show up when they said they would, here a kid with a dream, was happy to take my business!

Wow do I know how to go off on a side note!!

Other than that, I have worked a few days, and people still amaze to shock me with stupid requests in a garden centre. “When I plant these seeds, do I have to plant them in dirt, or do I water the package” – “Do you have paint to paint the flowers a different colour, I wanted the colour to be a little darker” – “How about I take you home, and you can help me with my bush”….. ::::BUZZER::::: ok- stop right there… if your bush is so crazy that you need HELP with it.. .I am definitely NOT your man! You probably have roaches and rats and weasels living in that bush, and I want NOTHING to do with it…. Um, I am talking about an actual bush you nasty monkeys! Although I did laugh once because a guy came in and told me he wanted to see our selection of really thick bushes, and I told him he would probably be better watching some 1970s porn if he wanted to see really thick bush! He got a kick out of it… thank god, or I probably would have been fired!

Anyways, I just wanted to write a short bit… nothing fancy happening in my life right now, just waiting for it to take off. Meanwhile I am still enjoying the change in climates and change in states- the people are slowly growing on me… kinda like moss I guess….

“Sometimes when you’re really lonely, you really feel alive and you feel like you know who you are” ~ anonymous

Memories of a Wildebeest's Life

Where have I been?

Let's see... I left flying, left Orlando, left Florida, my sanity (of which I don't really think I had much in the first place) , my friends (whom I miss terribly) - and moved up north.

The adjustment to a new climate, culture, house, and now job have been quite the adventure.

I have never lived up north... basically if Canada had an ass, and took a crap- I live right below where it comes out.... pretty far north.

I now live in a state where I actually have to THINK before I spell it... P-E-N-S... no .... P-E-N-N-S-I.... noooooo... P-E-N-N-S-E... dammit... I live in PA!

Since I have been here, I have learned a number of things. Number one... apparently I have an accent. I never thought I did, but apparently I do. I can only blame my mother for this one. The only person I have ever met (ok, not really the only person- but just go along with it to make my blog sound a little more dramatic and entertaining- I work for free afterall) that can double her syllables of every word. LAMP = Laa-yump. SOIL= So-wul. CHICKEN = Chyiiiiiiiiii-ke-yen

I have also learned that people up here use terms like 'yas' and 'yous'.... um... excuse me? Doncha mean y'all? "How are yas?" - Well I'd be happy to answer that if I knew what a yas wuz!"

It has also come to my knowledge that Collard Greens are... well... I don't want to say that they do not exist... because they DO exist. It's just how they exist. If you are from the south, you know that when you cook collards, a huge leaf, turns into nothing. So WHY is it that when they sell a 'bunch' (see in the south we have a 'mess') its enough for a spoonful!

Let's see what else... it snowed.... in spring..... twice! I have learned never believe the weather people up here. They may be better looking than the weather people in Florida, but thats about all. "It's going to be beautiful tomorrow- in the upper 60s" = 43 degrees and rain

All the boo-hooin is really not boo-hooin. I really do like it up here. I actually love the weather - minus the fact its hard to plan a garden. It is nice to be able to blink my eyes and not break out in a sweat. I know it will get hot eventually... but in the meantime- I am enjoying the fact I can wear a pair of shorts and a hoodie and be completely comfortable.

Also- though I miss southern food, I have learned a few PA things that I really like now. Birch Beer, and Potato Filling. There is something however that will never compare. Give me a sweet potato pie over a shoo-fly pie any day.

I have registered for school and classes which start May 17th. The school seems pretty nice- although they may be even a little too laid back for even me. I have been going back and forth with the financial aid department for a while, but I finally got an answer today, and now just have to bring in proof that I am po! Hello- don't they know I worked for an airline for the last 2 years... if it wasn't for those delicious... ok, even I can't lie about that- TERRIBLE crew meals, I would have starved. (Not really, just go along with it... remember, I work for free)

I also got a part time job at a hardware store in outside lawn and garden. The company is really a good company to work for... once again REALLY laid back- but the customers.... let's just say pray for them. Sometimes I look at these people and ask myself... how in the HELL were you the smartest sperm? Were you the only one that was not swimming in circles, but managed to get to the egg by accident? "Um yes- I am looking for some poison that won't kill anything" - " What kind of plant do I plant that will grow" - "Will it be ok if I plant an orange flower with a red on, or will the plants not like that".

Alright- now I know I have asked some pretty stupid questions in my life... but I'll be damned if I ever asked any that stupid. WILL THE PLANTS NOT LIKE THAT? Really Mister? Were you outside smoking the poppies and snorting the fertilizers? A plant is a plant is a plant... plant it- it will grow, it doesn't care if its neighbor is orange, red, purple, pink... or if its owner just fell out the back door of the short bus, was backed over, and got up and was plowed into by a midget driving an ice cream truck full of shitting chimpanzees.... just plant the damn thing!!

I guess I should be thankful for these idiots. They do after all make my blog more interesting to read about.

I miss flying. More than I thought I would. I keep having these nostalgic moments when I go back to my facebook photo albums and look at all the places I went. It's almost depressing. I miss SOME of the people I flew with. Ok- so I miss like 5 of them. I do have to say though, it is nice to wake up at a decent time, and go to bed when its actually dark. But I guess that part of flying is what gave me character- that sleepy delusion that creeps up on you after you have pulled an all nighter across the pond-15 hours on 3 hours of sleep on a bed made of burlap and chicken wire- in a hotel room that smells like musty old wildebeests that have been mating in a lake of chicken gravy- only to listen to the 70 year old newly-weds in the room next to you, where you don't know if they are crying out in extacy or from a broken hip...... yes - I miss it!

I am happy though... it is the things we miss the most that drive us to better ourselves to be able to experience those things again.

But I know once I finish school (if it doesn't kill me) I will be able to travel again. This time with a job that actually pays me more than crew meals, bed bug bites, fatigue, and of course a beautiful polyester uniform!

Hopefully soon, I will be able to make some friends outside of 'work friends'. After speaking to 2 of my dearest friends today- I know they will never be able to take the place of them... but, they can at least add some extra essence to my life.

This last month or two has been an adjustment... I now understand how women feel when they get a new bra...you get it because you need it- but its a bitch to get it adjusted just right so that everything seems to fit in correctly, and when you do, you feel all comfy and supported again.

I guess now at 32 - its time to conquer my life- take time to better myself, so that the future of my loved ones will also benefit. We have to leave somethings behind in order to be able to bear the weight of the future journey. That at least is how I am looking at this change in life.

"It is better to conquer yourself than to win a thousand battles. Then the victory is yours. It cannot be taken away from you, not by angels, or by demons, heaven or hell" ~ Buddha

Waiting in the World of Ghettodom

So here I sit…. back in Orlando

Sipping a cup of café con leche… made at home, not some small Cuban joint up the street where they came to know my name, and exactly how much sugar I like. The little café where they had the best breakfast is no longer within a 4 minute drive.

There is soft music from Pandora- “Before Sunrise” by Kiran Murti to be exact- not loud Celia Cruz “AZUCAR, AZUCAR” coming from the ancient Cuban lady next door. Yes, the lady that did some brujeria the day before I got down there to get the rest of my stuff. How do I know? Why else would there be a dead chicken, plucked, outside of her house?

I don’t know how to feel just yet.

I have been absent from most things that are ‘normal’ to my life. I suppose I do this as a form of exercise. We never know how far we can push ourselves, until we do it.

Well… I’m doing it.

I put in my resignation letter for a job that I loved, to pursue something I love more- and of course someone I love more! The response from my company: “Ok- good luck”.

Not “is there anything to change your mind”. Not- “oh my, this is a shock”.

I think that was the hardest thing about leaving. The fact that I meant nothing, well, at least to the non-educated, stuck in the 80s dressing, ignorant, racist, Big Lot dye job, bark like a dog- bit like a toothless dead wonky-eyed hobo, fell off the top step of a double-wide bitch that used to manage me. Am I bitter? NOOOOOO, I’m past aaaall that now!

The saving grace is my direct supervisor and I had spoken close to a month before I made my decision to leave. She pretty much said I was wasting my talents there. That lady is an asset to the company. Not just because she has good taste- I mean, hello, she DID hire ME, but because she really is the one that runs that department. Everyone sees it- yet no one recognizes it. At least I did, and I was very appreciative of it.

Since coming to Orlando, I have gone into my shell a little. I know big changes are coming for me. I just can’t exactly understand what they are yet.

I had a friend once tell me- “sometimes you just jump, and the net appears.”

I wanted to tell her “ho, I am NOT in Cirque du Soleil” But I know what she meant.

So I jumped.

Now I am saying- “APPEAR DAMMIT, APPEAR!!”.

I have withdrawn from Facebook, my friends, my family- other than my crazy mother who there is no hiding from, she’s like a ninja, they need to send her crazy ass to find Osama!

I’m not depressed at all. I am just so calm- I think that’s what freaks me out the most. I just KNOW that everything will be fine.

The other day, I went to orientation for one school I will be attending.

I am glad to know that I still have my ghetto magnet!

Everyone always comments that I can walk into a room filled with 50 thousand people. If there were ONE ghetto girl… she would seek me out, and we would be best friends!

Apparently, this holds true in educational establishments as well.

For starters, the professor who was doing the orientation had her bowl of “ghetto-os” that morning. You could tell that was one educated lady- but ghetto does not mean stupid!

The professor said “ERRR-body up in here that don’t like ta read… well, dat went out da do da minute you stepped up in HURR…. up in dis establishment, they are hardcore on dat first ‘are-ah’ that you learned when you were little…. reading”

It was love at HELLUR!

As for the people in the class…. of course the girl with brownish hair and the 1B long pony-tail sat in front of me and had to turn around ERY moment she could to talk to me. I wanted to be like… um shoooze me, but we can tell dat shit aint yours (referring to her pony-tail). But she was PROUD of that pony-tail. She slung that thing around like she had been growing it all her life. Go’on guhl!!

Behind me, I had someone similar, except she had a short curly RED bun, with black hair… I don’t know who she’s trying to fool! I really liked her though- she was the loud one of the class, and was using words that I had never heard, so at least she kept it entertaining!

Afterward the orientation, I had to stand in line… for 2 hours (once again, am I bitter? On this one- HELL YEA)… to hand them 3 pieces of paper. Yes, you heard that right.. to HAND them 3 pieces of paper.

Not- oh, if you’re just turning in paperwork that needs to be collected and do not have any questions, just place them here. OH NOOOOOO! Stand yo butt in this line and listen to the coke-head (literally) talk about the best deal on a half ball, whole ball, basketball, whatever they call it.

I have to just say something about him. WHY? That’s really all, and I turned around once and actually asked him why he was wasting his parent’s money going to school.

If he is:

1- stupid enough to talk about doing cocaine, and all the other crap he mentioned (I must be getting old because I only understood the coke and marijuana references) in a line FULL of people he has never met before

2- mentioning the fact that he has been selling it

3 - mentioned the WHEREABOUTS of the guy he gets it from.

Yes, he didn’t just say “oh Jason is in the greater Orlando area”, he said “you know once you past that 7-11 on the right off (I can’t remember the name of the road he said, but he said the road), his house is that tan one there with the new jag in front.”

REALLY?

Seriously? You are really dumb... fo real!

I eventually got tired of him talking so loud, that I couldn't keep my mouth shut. But I did it in pure Myke fashion. I would smile, and just say things out loud.

I had temporary tourettes syndrome.

Off subject- kinda-Microsoft word does not recognize this word, so I had to actually do research to find out how to spell it correctly- and me being so damn curious, actually ended up reading about the disorder!. Rather interesting actually. I will admit I'm probably going to hell, because I still think there are times that this is one of the funniest disorders!

Back to my babbling-

So I had TTS ® (Temporary Tourettes Syndrome)- yes I made that up- get over it!

“We know who’s taking chemistry…crack-head”

No filter.

“I bet someone is mad tuition doesn't include a silver plated straw”

No patience.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut…the…fuck…up”

After that fiasco, I met up with my “Italian family” (just friends that have become more like family… not code for mafia) at Universal. I had an amazing time as always with them.

It’s going to be hard being further from them now…. but I know they will visit, and I can visit them. Besides, we always have our Pictionary memories of “Team Hitler” and “Team Ninja” – that will be a story for another time though.

At the end of the day, they all came and crashed at the house. There were Italians laying everywhere. On the couches, on the floors, on the tables, in the hall- all of them wearing togas and yelling in Italian about Julius Cesar and pasta and Roman orgies.

Ok, not the last part, but I wanted to be sure you were still reading, and awake!

The following morning, I got up early, made some rum balls- because I’m just that domestic!

Besides, I’m all about sharing my balls… my rum balls you dirty dirty minded monkeys!

The family left after several cups of coffee and tea- it saddened me a little… ok, a lot! The leaving, not the coffee and tea.

I had lunch later that day with someone very dear to me. I can say probably the one person that is going to be my saving grace through this trying time of mine.

It was a good bitch session. I bitched some, he bitched some, we saw a bitch, a bitch saw us, he said bitch a couple times, I said bitch a couple more times than that…. it was bitch-tastic!

I am now playing the game of ‘wait’.

My transfer status from my second job….. waiting.

My financial aid for school…. waiting

My start date for Chinese School (8^th)…. waiting

My realization that I am not getting paid to travel the world anymore….. waiting

I think the only thing I am not waiting to do… is exhale. Although that was a good movie!

I have no clue what is to come in the next couple weeks. I am sure it will all balance out.

Though I do not believe that everything is “written” for us- I do believe that everything happens for the right reasons, at the right times. (Except traffic in Miami… thank god I don’t have to deal with that anymore)

I guess I just have to remember that with every door closed behind you, is another hallway to explore!

“If you want to know your past- look into your present conditions. If you want to know your future- look into your present actions” ~ Chinese Proverb