Wednesday, July 25, 2007

gone fishin'


It's actually just a little over 1000 miles from where I sit right now and in less than 7 hours I'll be a mere 37 miles away. Yippee.


I'm off to spend a week of sun and fun on the beaches of Cape Cod and the taxi comes in about 1 1/2 hours. Why the hell is it that before you leave for vacation to do basically absolutely nothing, the week before is loaded with enough miscellaneous crap to keep you busy from morning til night. This is the first 'free' time I've had for awhile. (and it's not really free because this is the last thing I should be doing-I still have to finish packing).

Anyway, I'm off to Harwichport for a few days and then Brewster for a few more. In between is P-town. It'll be family time, beach time, fresh fish time, National Seashore time and so much more I can't even describe. If you've been there you totally understand and if not... I'm sorry. I'm out!- Later.

Tuesday, July 17, 2007

curb it

The other night I came home from work and sat down at my dining room table with a beer; that little picture is not anything that I haven't done a thousand times before but for some reason the beer that night had a really bad aftertaste. As I sat there thinking about the day, I heard some loud voices coming from the park across the street (this also is not so unusual) and noticed a group of people sitting on the curb with their feet in the street. There was a cute little girl around age 3 with awesome pigtails that stuck straight out from the side of her head, a boy about age 7, and three women around 30 ish or so -oh and a little chiuaua dog. They were just hanging out talking but my 'spidey sense' told me something wasn't right with them and sure enough I was correct.

Even though they may have looked and sounded completely out of place in this neighborhood, I was trying to tell myself they were probably just "having fun", so I sat back down and finished my beer. Soon enough they got louder and louder and began to create a scene for everyone in the park. Since they were pretty much right outside my window, I stood up to see what the hell they could be doing; again, they weren't actually doing anything- just hanging- strangely on the curb. Then I heard someone yell " you gotts go the to da bafroom?!" the little 3 year old voice whispered back "yes" (as if she was sorry). I watched as the mother immediately grabbed the little kid by the arm, practically lifting her off the ground saying "come on, we'll go over here" but looking around realizing there was no place to hide. No place but behind the trash can that is- the trash can that is practically on the sidewalk. Now I've peed in my share of strange and public places in my lifetime but not when I was three and not because my mom had taken me to an unfamiliar neighborhood without a car to take us back home with. (I'm just saying there was a bunch of bushes a mere 20 feet away) Ok, whatever. The little kid proceeded to do her thing behind the trash can as the 7 year old boy did his best to alert the public that this was happening. Now I understand this event won't scar her at all and she probably didn't really care where she peed but for some reason it bothrered me; then I heard her mother yell, while dragging her over to the trash can, " she's gots to learn somehow- this will make her a woman". Ok, now I could feel my anger coming up through my chest. Ahhh, learn what first of all- that her mom is an idiot or that it's ok to pee on the sidewalk in public- what exactly is the lesson here. I don't think peeing by a trash can has anything to do with womanhood but that's just me-I let that comment go but the whole scene wasn't sitting well with me- again, spidey sense...

I decided to leave the dining room at this point because it wasn't doing me any good watching this. As I tried to settle back down with another beer, I heard the little chiuaua dog barking incessantly and then heard my neighbors voice- what the fuck. I grabbed my beer in frustration and looked out the window to see what was going on, again nothing- still just sitting on the curb, talking to my neighbor who was walking her huge Siberian Husky. That's why the chiuaua was freaking out. I watched for a minute because I wanted to see the husky and the chuaua interact, it would have been funny but I never saw that- the strangers didn't want to get off the curb. What transpired was horrible to see: the woman holding the chiuaua was choking her dog with the lease and continually whacking it with her shoe because it wouldn't stop barking. Yeah, that's right the dog was barking... duh. I'm telling you she was whacking that dog non stop. With every swat the dog flew a couple inches and it went on and on and on. Watching someone violently hit a dog, really hard kills me. I honestly don't know what stopped me from physically going outside to ask her politely what the fuck her problem was, but I didn't.
Witnessing the abuse of a dog or a child is the one thing that could potentially turn my own anger into uncontrollable rage. Most of the time I have to quickly turn away from the scene for fear of what I could say or do, but mostly I turn away because it upsets me so much. I can't physically stand it. If I actually sensed any child or animal was being abused to the point of no return believe me I would intervene. This particular event wasn't all that horrible, it wasn't good but we've all seen much, much worse. I'm just saying if she's treating her little mini dog like that I don't want to know what's going on with pigtail girl- no thanks, can't go there.
After seeing this, the next day I read a very disturbing post by maria out there in Nebraska- not a good way to relax with a beer on a warm, sunny summer day.




















Friday, July 13, 2007

butt ugly

The one and only reason I can't wait until January 2008 is because this is when the Smoke-Free Illinois Act will take effect. I'm so fucking tired of coming home after a night out smelling like smoke; it's bad enough that I reek of alcohol but couple that with stale cigarette smell and It makes me feel like a big fat bar boozer.

I hate smoking. I hate smoke, the smell of smoke, the look of a cigarette, ash trays and smokers breath. Unlike so many people, I don't find smoking to be sexy or "cool"- believe me I could name about a thousand other things that I would allow the coolness label to be attached to. I also find it annoying and somewhat rude when smokers file outside during a party (regardless of the weather) because they need a hit- and they never seem to go alone. Smoking seems old school, totally addictive instead of enjoyable, dirty and just plain stupid if you ask me.

I don't care that people smoke as long as they never come out of their house or car to do it. Now if I could only get a loud talking act to pass, I'd be good to go.

Sunday, July 08, 2007

NOT sexy

Can someone please enlighten me and explain why 9 out of 10 women who wear thongs are overweight and insist on either wearing pants that are too low or too tight for their bodies? It can't be comfortable, right? Plus colored thong, white pants?- what the fuck is this?!

I don't get it, I mean it's not sexy or attractive to see the thong sticking up 6, 7, 8 inches higher than the jeans... what's the deal?

Tuesday, July 03, 2007

summer's soft spot

I seem to be completely saturated in the haze of summer lately. Ever since that Summer Solstice weekend my mind has completely gone on break, as it did years ago when school would let out. The only difference now is that instead of flagging the ice cream truck down or playing 'kick the can' until dusk I'm watching time go by as if I have nothing else to do for the rest of my life.

I've been lost in the moment of what it's like when the morning light turns to afternoon sun or when early evening turns into full fledged night time-that time period when you happen to be just talking or watching or reading or sitting and in what feels like a split second, the world outside has completely changed. Lost in the moment. I'm worried that in two months from now I'm going to wake up and be blindsided by the fact that the calendar now says September. Summer is like a drug, but in addition to the natural intoxication it gives me, add on top of that my usual consumption of alcohol and I'm pretty much checked out-period.

Being lost in the heat of the sun and heat of the moment, whether the moment consists of lust, love or time is all good. I can't quite figure out why blogging has gotten lost in all of this haze though. What always felt like such a concrete force seems to have melted away - temporarily...