Now a week and more has passed since my last post. I have to wonder what's going on. To some extent, I think having a job again is a little overwhelming. It doesn't help that the hours have suddenly started much earlier on one end, but at the other end, the one that sees me going to bed, the hours have not gotten any earlier to adjust for the earlier rise.
I did mow the grass recently, and it already needs it again. I neglected one part of the yard and have been complained about. Someone learned that if they go to the city, the city will send a man out to remind me that they can make me mow my grass. Also, I will now have to finally fix the truck, but considering the main problem with that has been lack of money, it won't be a problem suddenly.
Oh, there's also that, the fact that we got our income tax refund late yet just in time finally. In the same week we also got paid from the new jobs, and I'm still awaiting a check from the most recent of the short lived jobs. While we're certainly not suddenly wealthy, we can fix the truck.
Back to the grass for a moment, we may be out of our drought with all the rain we've gotten this spring. It seems to have rained two or three days a week on average the entire year, and our weather has continued to fluctuate insanely, possibly due somehow to this. We were supposed to be near freezing temperatures last night, though I didn't actually measure. I can agree that it was quite cool. Today is supposed to be low seventies, and while I'll agree it's still cool out, the sun is doing a superb job of warming.
I'm waiting now for that call/text from Momma alerting me that she's off work and that we'll soon be making the children/job exchange. While she's worked a number of days and nights, having started at the g-pub two weeks before I did, this is only my second night shift. Thankfully it's a Wednesday and likely to be slower than not, but my last night shift was sort of a pain in the ass.
Momma is slightly more available than I am to work shifts, and she's ahead of me as well with that two weeks head start coupled with the variety of shifts she's worked. I still don't really know the dinner menu having only seen it once. I'm getting a handle on lunch, the shift I'm much more likely to work, so I'm approaching some amount of comfort in the daytime. I need to pick up more dinner shifts, but with soccer still taking up two nights I could get in, once more coupled with Momma's experience at the place, and you get the picture. Also, I'm a little nervous because that's apparently how I roll.
Speaking of the new job, my gaydar has so far been off at least once, and it isn't pointing at anyone else in the meantime. There was this Hispanic looking guy that I think was applying for a job, but I haven't seen him since, which is sad as he was definitely easy on the eyes. I thought till Sunday that one of the bartenders was gay, but he was out with a girl for brunch in a holding hands and obviously not gay sort of way.
I don't think there's much else to say. I'm quite sorry, both for you and for me, that I've failed at making time to blog lately. I really have quite too much to say, as any regulars know, especially when given the soft ball of a good rant topic. I had two such softballs this past week, but I failed to act in a blogging type way and let them go.
You should visit the Thinking Parents wiki and read what other people have to say. The topic this time around was a pick between two upcoming events, National Day of Prayer and National Spank Out Day.
I don't pray, so prayer day would have certainly been a fun baby seal to club, and taking the reference to violence to the other option, I also don't spank. I still don't feel I'm a great parent, but I do feel I'm trying. I never realized the lifetime of spankings I lived with would set me up to be such a bastard of a father, but the farther I step from the spanker I was, the more I'm able to fix these issues. I can confront the way I've allowed my childhood to continue to infest who I've become, and I can allow myself to give my children the sort of freedom I never had. As I do this, I still have to confront the sort of expectations that I don't need to dredge from my past and smother them with, and that's really hard, throwing away so much of what you learned about parenting and trying to reinvent who you are.
Update complete, we now rejoin our regular features already in progress.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Sunday, April 20, 2008
the roof, the roof
The roof of my mouth, while not on fire, has a certain hurtiness about it. I'm quite sure I know why this is. I spent a large portion of yesterday yelling and or talking loudly.
As per usual for our eight week spring soccer season I was at the fields only slightly late. Along with The Boy one other of my U6's showed up for the game, and the opposing coach was happy to agree that we'd play two versus two. We made it through two thirds of the game before The Boy decided he'd had enough. No amount of urging would compel him to continue playing, and once again the opposing coach was obliging. His team was being absolutely creamed by my guys, though to be fair, The Boy never does really give an entire shit about playing soccer as opposed to just playing, so the other team was actually being quite handled by only one of my guys. I was doing everything in my power to slow him down, and by the end of the game he was doing everything in his power to get the ball to The Boy, however, as I've mentioned, The Boy just doesn't have it in him.
Game two, U10's. We had enough time between games yesterday to run to Burger King (no need to point out the ridiculousness of fast food on soccer day thank you very much) and speed back to the fields.
Where to start on this game? Most of the goals score by the other team were goals my guys should have stopped. How do you get eight and nine year olds to be more aggressive on defense? We certainly could have won this game if I could instill in my team the usefulness of working on passing and shooting with your left as well as right foot, and perhaps this game will be a good way to work on that in our practices this week. We missed at least three goals because the shot was from the left of the goal and taken with the right foot. The kid that missed them has an excellent foot on him and is the same kid that could have scored from the half line earlier in the season.
To their credit, my U10's mostly stayed nearly in position and bunched up much less than usual. They actually passed the ball a number of times and showed us some beautiful plays involving multiple passes. I was immensely proud of the work they did and the fact that they are slowly starting to learn.
We had a couple of hours between soccer and roller derby, too much of which I spent taking a nap. I may have mentioned in the past my disdain for naps as well as my need to not take them. I only ever wake up disoriented and slightly irritated, not exactly the purpose of a nap, and they never seem to be the least bit restful to me.
The bout was exciting even if Hard Knox lost to Memphis 110-55. I'll try to only say nice things, and this is generally my goal as an announcer, to only say nice things. Last night was just hard on a person who attempts to say only nice things.
The highlights of the evening-record ticket sales, record merchandise sales, new location proved we can bring a good crowd of mostly new fans. Word of mouth should make our next bout even bigger. The new location issues that were of concern seem to have been handled handily by support staff/volunteers/husbands and boyfriends and girlfriends of our derby girls. Several of our new skaters are a little less new, perhaps one could say even a little less virginal in that they've skated in a bout against a truly powerful team.
The not so highlights-someone didn't seem to have brought their B team to play our B team. I'm not sure exactly what makes ours a B team because we did have a few of our stronger skaters on the track, but for the most part we seemed to be giving some of the newer and less experienced skaters their chance. As someone pointed out at the after party though, no one drives six hours to lose.
A final highlight-derby is awesome, and I love the way it brings people together. As I mentioned at some point in my announcing, there's nothing like derby to bring the two ends of our lovely state together. And there's a certain something special when, during a timeout for the referees to huddle and discuss referee stuff, watching as the pack dances to the music, girls in Memphis red and Hard Knox green doing a family friendly bit of bump and grind. And they call it derby love.
And so I shouted and hollered and yelled and spoke loudly into a microphone all day. I'm sure I spent some amount of time at the after party being a vociferous bit of an ass. It's cool, but damn if the roof of my mouth isn't just a little hurty today. My throat is tiny bit raspy, but having been an announcer and slightly less a fan, at least I wasn't screaming then and voiceless now.
Oh, and the final, final highlight, the beefcake card. Being a boy, I'm obviously not allowed to join in the coo tag game our skaters so love to share, so when one of our skaters gave me my beefcake card I felt inclined to share. She had brought and was passing out a deck of playing cards which featured mostly nude male models. She was kind enough to let me pick my own, so I was lucky enough to end up with the one that wasn't wearing bondage apparel.
The trick is to not make a huge point of the card but to hold it just obviously and wait. Soon enough the victim looks over and aaaaaaaagggggggghhhhhhhhh they realize they've just seen a cock. Is it only gay men that enjoy seeing cock? Straight men and lesbians I can understand, and they are obviously the most fun targets of this game, but one would think at least a couple of the straight ladies would mind a little less.
As per usual for our eight week spring soccer season I was at the fields only slightly late. Along with The Boy one other of my U6's showed up for the game, and the opposing coach was happy to agree that we'd play two versus two. We made it through two thirds of the game before The Boy decided he'd had enough. No amount of urging would compel him to continue playing, and once again the opposing coach was obliging. His team was being absolutely creamed by my guys, though to be fair, The Boy never does really give an entire shit about playing soccer as opposed to just playing, so the other team was actually being quite handled by only one of my guys. I was doing everything in my power to slow him down, and by the end of the game he was doing everything in his power to get the ball to The Boy, however, as I've mentioned, The Boy just doesn't have it in him.
Game two, U10's. We had enough time between games yesterday to run to Burger King (no need to point out the ridiculousness of fast food on soccer day thank you very much) and speed back to the fields.
Where to start on this game? Most of the goals score by the other team were goals my guys should have stopped. How do you get eight and nine year olds to be more aggressive on defense? We certainly could have won this game if I could instill in my team the usefulness of working on passing and shooting with your left as well as right foot, and perhaps this game will be a good way to work on that in our practices this week. We missed at least three goals because the shot was from the left of the goal and taken with the right foot. The kid that missed them has an excellent foot on him and is the same kid that could have scored from the half line earlier in the season.
To their credit, my U10's mostly stayed nearly in position and bunched up much less than usual. They actually passed the ball a number of times and showed us some beautiful plays involving multiple passes. I was immensely proud of the work they did and the fact that they are slowly starting to learn.
We had a couple of hours between soccer and roller derby, too much of which I spent taking a nap. I may have mentioned in the past my disdain for naps as well as my need to not take them. I only ever wake up disoriented and slightly irritated, not exactly the purpose of a nap, and they never seem to be the least bit restful to me.
The bout was exciting even if Hard Knox lost to Memphis 110-55. I'll try to only say nice things, and this is generally my goal as an announcer, to only say nice things. Last night was just hard on a person who attempts to say only nice things.
The highlights of the evening-record ticket sales, record merchandise sales, new location proved we can bring a good crowd of mostly new fans. Word of mouth should make our next bout even bigger. The new location issues that were of concern seem to have been handled handily by support staff/volunteers/husbands and boyfriends and girlfriends of our derby girls. Several of our new skaters are a little less new, perhaps one could say even a little less virginal in that they've skated in a bout against a truly powerful team.
The not so highlights-someone didn't seem to have brought their B team to play our B team. I'm not sure exactly what makes ours a B team because we did have a few of our stronger skaters on the track, but for the most part we seemed to be giving some of the newer and less experienced skaters their chance. As someone pointed out at the after party though, no one drives six hours to lose.
A final highlight-derby is awesome, and I love the way it brings people together. As I mentioned at some point in my announcing, there's nothing like derby to bring the two ends of our lovely state together. And there's a certain something special when, during a timeout for the referees to huddle and discuss referee stuff, watching as the pack dances to the music, girls in Memphis red and Hard Knox green doing a family friendly bit of bump and grind. And they call it derby love.
And so I shouted and hollered and yelled and spoke loudly into a microphone all day. I'm sure I spent some amount of time at the after party being a vociferous bit of an ass. It's cool, but damn if the roof of my mouth isn't just a little hurty today. My throat is tiny bit raspy, but having been an announcer and slightly less a fan, at least I wasn't screaming then and voiceless now.
Oh, and the final, final highlight, the beefcake card. Being a boy, I'm obviously not allowed to join in the coo tag game our skaters so love to share, so when one of our skaters gave me my beefcake card I felt inclined to share. She had brought and was passing out a deck of playing cards which featured mostly nude male models. She was kind enough to let me pick my own, so I was lucky enough to end up with the one that wasn't wearing bondage apparel.
The trick is to not make a huge point of the card but to hold it just obviously and wait. Soon enough the victim looks over and aaaaaaaagggggggghhhhhhhhh they realize they've just seen a cock. Is it only gay men that enjoy seeing cock? Straight men and lesbians I can understand, and they are obviously the most fun targets of this game, but one would think at least a couple of the straight ladies would mind a little less.
Friday, April 18, 2008
feed me coffee
The last of my last cup of coffee for the day sits mostly finished in the kitchen. I'm on to beer now, though drinking slowly as I still have to get out and pick Momma up, hopefully soon.
This week that began so . . . less than spectacular, has ended with me feeling better than I have in ages, yet I'm physically worn down to a state we in the south refer to as plumb wore out. I tried to post earlier, while I was drinking number one of my evening cups of coffee, yet for all my effort, I was unable to stay awake while sitting at the computer, my attempt to blog completely in vain.
My two week notice at the bar was cut short by management. I secretly wonder if my tales of cooking glory at the gastropub had them concerned that their other cooks would revolt and leave the ship. Perhaps they really didn't need me anymore with their acquisition of two new cooks who would be quite able to fill out the schedule. Perhaps it's a bit grandiose of me to even imagine the former when the latter is quite likely the truth.
As it happened, one of the managers, on what became my second to last shift, informed me that, if I wanted, I could cut the two week notice in half, but she also admitted that if I needed the shifts I'd be welcome to them. The fact is, the g-pub coworkers had earlier suggested that I need not work out the full two weeks as they could very easily find shifts for me to pick up. My decision originally to work the two weeks was driven as much by my desire to act in an honorable manner as well as my complete lack of desire to anger the people that feed me my beer when I get that rare night out.
In an absolute orgy of work-Tuesday night, closed the bar, leaving at nearly four a.m. Arrived home for a couple of last winding down beers and two hours of sleep. Wednesday morning, popped out of bed manically, quite ready for my first g-pub shift, which I must admit I loved. Left the g-pub shortly before three, walked around the corner to the pizza place in which I used to be kitchen manager, ate a hamburger while downing two beers and walked back down the street to the bar where I was scheduled to work at four. That shift lasted till eight and was the shift during which I was informed that I could be quit of the place as an employee a week early. As the shift ended I drank my two shift beers and a third beer I happily paid for before walking back to the g-pub, both to enjoy yet another beer as well as to inform my new overlords of the change in my fate which allows them to work me to death beginning a week sooner than we'd previously thought. With that I was on my way home to Momma and a couple more beers and stupidly keeping myself up later than makes sense. Thursday was full of yard work, mowing the grass twice as it had already grown too tall to reasonably manage followed by soccer practice where I, contrary to what I'd promised myself, did run around, work up a sweat, tire myself, get my ankle stomped harder than a nine year old should be able to land. Practice ended at seven thrity giving me just enough time to make it back to my final shift at the bar ten minutes late, yet another closing shift, and yet another moment of finishing at nearly four in the morning. This morning was back to the g-pub at nine, a slightly late start, and non stop slicing and dicing and toting and mixing and done in time to run home in time to bring Momma back for her shift. That in turn was followed by a trip to the bank, the food co-op, the free air at the gas station and then the grocery store.
At some point in all this I have to tell you about the feeling, the thought that didn't occur to me till some random time between that first g-pub shift and earlier tonight. It's a moment that I tried to include in the ill fated posting from earlier, the post during which my chin couldn't seem to stop attempting to kiss my chest, my heavy eyelids dragging themselves and my head down into the sandman's own domain.
This isn't a feeling I had once in my three days at the sushi bar, if you remember that ill fated experiment. It never once came to me at the bar. It came to me at the g-pub but was unrecognized. I think it may have happened to have been in the air or was some sort of pheromone like thing I exuded but only to heighten my own senses as opposed to those around me. Perhaps it began as I tied the apron around myself, getting it just so in its old place below my belt while I tried to pinch my boxers through my jeans to ease them back down, getting that just right alignment of pants, apron and underwear that only lasts as long as I can avoid reaching the least bit upward. Perhaps it was the also familiar tucking of the towel into my back pocket. I'm not sure exactly when or where or even how, but I realized later what it was. It was a feeling I haven't had in all the years of attempting to be a stay at home dad. It was a feeling I didn't realize I missed till I realized it was back. It was a recognition of my place in a kitchen. It was a recognition in that kitchen that I was finally back home.
Home! I'm a lifer. The back aches for the feel of standing perched between keg and shelf as I finagle that box of bread off the top shelf just close enough to realize it's the wrong bread. It's the tap tap tap of my knife turning an onion into slivers. It's the feeling of the dressed salad not cooperating with my attempt to get just a little more height. The only feeling even close to this lately was my coming out not so long ago.
I think I'm finally unslumping myself, and it feels good. It also feels good to once more know that I've earned being this tired. I won't see the kitchen again till next week, and I think I might be getting a wee bit impatient.
This week that began so . . . less than spectacular, has ended with me feeling better than I have in ages, yet I'm physically worn down to a state we in the south refer to as plumb wore out. I tried to post earlier, while I was drinking number one of my evening cups of coffee, yet for all my effort, I was unable to stay awake while sitting at the computer, my attempt to blog completely in vain.
My two week notice at the bar was cut short by management. I secretly wonder if my tales of cooking glory at the gastropub had them concerned that their other cooks would revolt and leave the ship. Perhaps they really didn't need me anymore with their acquisition of two new cooks who would be quite able to fill out the schedule. Perhaps it's a bit grandiose of me to even imagine the former when the latter is quite likely the truth.
As it happened, one of the managers, on what became my second to last shift, informed me that, if I wanted, I could cut the two week notice in half, but she also admitted that if I needed the shifts I'd be welcome to them. The fact is, the g-pub coworkers had earlier suggested that I need not work out the full two weeks as they could very easily find shifts for me to pick up. My decision originally to work the two weeks was driven as much by my desire to act in an honorable manner as well as my complete lack of desire to anger the people that feed me my beer when I get that rare night out.
In an absolute orgy of work-Tuesday night, closed the bar, leaving at nearly four a.m. Arrived home for a couple of last winding down beers and two hours of sleep. Wednesday morning, popped out of bed manically, quite ready for my first g-pub shift, which I must admit I loved. Left the g-pub shortly before three, walked around the corner to the pizza place in which I used to be kitchen manager, ate a hamburger while downing two beers and walked back down the street to the bar where I was scheduled to work at four. That shift lasted till eight and was the shift during which I was informed that I could be quit of the place as an employee a week early. As the shift ended I drank my two shift beers and a third beer I happily paid for before walking back to the g-pub, both to enjoy yet another beer as well as to inform my new overlords of the change in my fate which allows them to work me to death beginning a week sooner than we'd previously thought. With that I was on my way home to Momma and a couple more beers and stupidly keeping myself up later than makes sense. Thursday was full of yard work, mowing the grass twice as it had already grown too tall to reasonably manage followed by soccer practice where I, contrary to what I'd promised myself, did run around, work up a sweat, tire myself, get my ankle stomped harder than a nine year old should be able to land. Practice ended at seven thrity giving me just enough time to make it back to my final shift at the bar ten minutes late, yet another closing shift, and yet another moment of finishing at nearly four in the morning. This morning was back to the g-pub at nine, a slightly late start, and non stop slicing and dicing and toting and mixing and done in time to run home in time to bring Momma back for her shift. That in turn was followed by a trip to the bank, the food co-op, the free air at the gas station and then the grocery store.
At some point in all this I have to tell you about the feeling, the thought that didn't occur to me till some random time between that first g-pub shift and earlier tonight. It's a moment that I tried to include in the ill fated posting from earlier, the post during which my chin couldn't seem to stop attempting to kiss my chest, my heavy eyelids dragging themselves and my head down into the sandman's own domain.
This isn't a feeling I had once in my three days at the sushi bar, if you remember that ill fated experiment. It never once came to me at the bar. It came to me at the g-pub but was unrecognized. I think it may have happened to have been in the air or was some sort of pheromone like thing I exuded but only to heighten my own senses as opposed to those around me. Perhaps it began as I tied the apron around myself, getting it just so in its old place below my belt while I tried to pinch my boxers through my jeans to ease them back down, getting that just right alignment of pants, apron and underwear that only lasts as long as I can avoid reaching the least bit upward. Perhaps it was the also familiar tucking of the towel into my back pocket. I'm not sure exactly when or where or even how, but I realized later what it was. It was a feeling I haven't had in all the years of attempting to be a stay at home dad. It was a feeling I didn't realize I missed till I realized it was back. It was a recognition of my place in a kitchen. It was a recognition in that kitchen that I was finally back home.
Home! I'm a lifer. The back aches for the feel of standing perched between keg and shelf as I finagle that box of bread off the top shelf just close enough to realize it's the wrong bread. It's the tap tap tap of my knife turning an onion into slivers. It's the feeling of the dressed salad not cooperating with my attempt to get just a little more height. The only feeling even close to this lately was my coming out not so long ago.
I think I'm finally unslumping myself, and it feels good. It also feels good to once more know that I've earned being this tired. I won't see the kitchen again till next week, and I think I might be getting a wee bit impatient.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
proves how little i really understand taxes
Relative to the services that you receive from the government, do you feel you pay too much in taxes? Explain.
So begins the project known as Thinking Homeschoolers in which participants blog concerning the current question. You can read other entries HERE.
The following is my rambling, probably often disjointed, view of the question. I will admit openly and up front that I'm almost the last person to ask for an intelligent discourse on taxes, how they are collected and how they are spent. Where I lack in knowledge I overflow in opinion.
In a sense I don't feel that we are getting certain services that we should be getting that would be paid for by our taxes. In many areas I feel that we do get adequate services for the taxes we pay. At the same time, I feel that many of the services for which we pay through our tax dollars should be completely changed.
Many of the other posts that have already been added to the Thinking Homeschoolers project mention schools, a service for which most of us pay without getting any of the benefits. Some of the homeschoolers use online charter school options, so it's arguable that they are getting those benefits. The utopian ideal of school that festers in my brain would first of all not be mandatory. It would exist to provide education for those that choose to use the service, and it would be available for anyone at any age to use the service when they were ready for it. That's a system I would happily pay for.
Medical care in our country is a very unfunny joke, and I don't only mean for the people like my family who have no medical insurance. My ideas would certainly cause many people to scream socialism, but I don't understand why anyone could think we don't have a right to basic medical care. Just being born, to me, should provide the right to be able to have regular medical, dental and vision screenings giving us the ability to spot potential problems and fix them early enough to avoid the high prices we face when something is allowed to grow worse.
The continuously failing war on drugs is a sponge that can never be full of our money no matter how much we throw at it. The very idea that we are ever going to fully prohibit people from finding ways to self medicate and/or tilt their brain a little is laughable. Since the very first human first drank the intoxicating grain brew and liked the effect we have tried to duplicate it, and along the way we've found increasingly interesting ways to achieve a broad array of highs and drunks.
It would be stupid of me to not recognize that many of the drugs people choose to use are extremely dangerous and addictive, but I don't believe our government should be using our money to address this particular moral issue. By decriminalizing most drugs and legalizing others we would free up a huge cash resource that is currently being spent on more cops, more weapons used by the cops, more jails and would allow that money to flow into programs designed to study, understand and treat addiction and the people who become addicted. We make criminals of people who need help, and we incarcerate them, insuring that they will not only not get help but will exit the system in worse condition than when they entered, more likely than not to reoffend and reenter the system.
Legalizing certain drugs would also allow for their sale, much the same as with alcohol and tobacco. Taxing these would create new tax revenues that could help to fund medical care for all as well as our new school system.
Corporate subsidies just don't make sense to me and never have. If you have a solid business plan and run your business intelligently and provide a product or service that people want or need then you don't need the government holding your hand and slipping you money to stay afloat. Having said that I do feel that it is often a good idea for government to look at taxes and business and help when it's appropriate.
My town is in long range discussion of TIF's or Tax Increment Financing which basically allows certain businesses, usually developers, to temporarily hold onto some of what they would be paying in property taxes in order to feed that money back into the business. Because of well used TIF's our downtown has, in recent years, seen a number of new businesses open. We have several buildings that were once sitting empty and abandoned and are now newly remodeled as condos and stores and restaurants. We have a growing population downtown that is breathing new life into what was once a dead area, pretty to drive through with nothing to do. There is now excitement and reason to go downtown more than once a year. The TIF's were part of what helped all this to happen, but now other developers want a piece of the pie, and they want to do an end run around how business should operate in order to line their pockets and increase their own profit. I'm happy that my tax money can help revitalize our downtown, but I certainly have no interest in helping someone pave over a wetland or flatten yet another ridge in order to build yet another mall. I certainly am not interested in allowing yet another big box to abandon their big box in order to build a bigger big box down the street. We already have enough empty big boxes.
In the interest of keeping this from growing too much larger and keeping me from talking even more nonsense out my ass I'll try to bring all this into a tight little bundle. Do I think we are getting our money's worth? Sort of, but I also think that all too often the taxes flow into the wrong hands. It's not that we pay too much in taxes for too little service, it's that we are paying too much for all the wrong services and too little for what would really benefit your basic, average tax payer.
So begins the project known as Thinking Homeschoolers in which participants blog concerning the current question. You can read other entries HERE.
The following is my rambling, probably often disjointed, view of the question. I will admit openly and up front that I'm almost the last person to ask for an intelligent discourse on taxes, how they are collected and how they are spent. Where I lack in knowledge I overflow in opinion.
In a sense I don't feel that we are getting certain services that we should be getting that would be paid for by our taxes. In many areas I feel that we do get adequate services for the taxes we pay. At the same time, I feel that many of the services for which we pay through our tax dollars should be completely changed.
Many of the other posts that have already been added to the Thinking Homeschoolers project mention schools, a service for which most of us pay without getting any of the benefits. Some of the homeschoolers use online charter school options, so it's arguable that they are getting those benefits. The utopian ideal of school that festers in my brain would first of all not be mandatory. It would exist to provide education for those that choose to use the service, and it would be available for anyone at any age to use the service when they were ready for it. That's a system I would happily pay for.
Medical care in our country is a very unfunny joke, and I don't only mean for the people like my family who have no medical insurance. My ideas would certainly cause many people to scream socialism, but I don't understand why anyone could think we don't have a right to basic medical care. Just being born, to me, should provide the right to be able to have regular medical, dental and vision screenings giving us the ability to spot potential problems and fix them early enough to avoid the high prices we face when something is allowed to grow worse.
The continuously failing war on drugs is a sponge that can never be full of our money no matter how much we throw at it. The very idea that we are ever going to fully prohibit people from finding ways to self medicate and/or tilt their brain a little is laughable. Since the very first human first drank the intoxicating grain brew and liked the effect we have tried to duplicate it, and along the way we've found increasingly interesting ways to achieve a broad array of highs and drunks.
It would be stupid of me to not recognize that many of the drugs people choose to use are extremely dangerous and addictive, but I don't believe our government should be using our money to address this particular moral issue. By decriminalizing most drugs and legalizing others we would free up a huge cash resource that is currently being spent on more cops, more weapons used by the cops, more jails and would allow that money to flow into programs designed to study, understand and treat addiction and the people who become addicted. We make criminals of people who need help, and we incarcerate them, insuring that they will not only not get help but will exit the system in worse condition than when they entered, more likely than not to reoffend and reenter the system.
Legalizing certain drugs would also allow for their sale, much the same as with alcohol and tobacco. Taxing these would create new tax revenues that could help to fund medical care for all as well as our new school system.
Corporate subsidies just don't make sense to me and never have. If you have a solid business plan and run your business intelligently and provide a product or service that people want or need then you don't need the government holding your hand and slipping you money to stay afloat. Having said that I do feel that it is often a good idea for government to look at taxes and business and help when it's appropriate.
My town is in long range discussion of TIF's or Tax Increment Financing which basically allows certain businesses, usually developers, to temporarily hold onto some of what they would be paying in property taxes in order to feed that money back into the business. Because of well used TIF's our downtown has, in recent years, seen a number of new businesses open. We have several buildings that were once sitting empty and abandoned and are now newly remodeled as condos and stores and restaurants. We have a growing population downtown that is breathing new life into what was once a dead area, pretty to drive through with nothing to do. There is now excitement and reason to go downtown more than once a year. The TIF's were part of what helped all this to happen, but now other developers want a piece of the pie, and they want to do an end run around how business should operate in order to line their pockets and increase their own profit. I'm happy that my tax money can help revitalize our downtown, but I certainly have no interest in helping someone pave over a wetland or flatten yet another ridge in order to build yet another mall. I certainly am not interested in allowing yet another big box to abandon their big box in order to build a bigger big box down the street. We already have enough empty big boxes.
In the interest of keeping this from growing too much larger and keeping me from talking even more nonsense out my ass I'll try to bring all this into a tight little bundle. Do I think we are getting our money's worth? Sort of, but I also think that all too often the taxes flow into the wrong hands. It's not that we pay too much in taxes for too little service, it's that we are paying too much for all the wrong services and too little for what would really benefit your basic, average tax payer.
Monday, April 14, 2008
derby hits downtown k-town
This should have made it to the blog when I first learned about it, but negligent blogger that I've become, I'm just now finding my way to posting.
Hard Knox Roller Girls have had a couple of homes, each with their pros and cons. We're now looking forward to a bout this Saturday, April 19, and the ladies are hitting downtown, literally.
HKRG will be playing Memphis, I believe the B teams from both leagues, and it's happening in the old convention center under the Days Inn on Henley Street. You heard right, down-frickin-town.
Visit Brown Paper Tickets to preorder tickets for ten dollars or show up at the door for fifteen dollar tickets. Better yet, show up with five cans of food for Second Harvest Food Bank and get five bucks knocked off your ticket price and help feed some families that could use a little help. Kids under three are free, while kids three to five are only five dollars. Afterward, join the ladies at Sassy Anns to, hopefully, celebrate yet another win.
As usual, yours truly will be doing the announcing with a little help from Memphis' announcer. I haven't worked with another announcer before, so I look forward to meeting her, and I hope working with her can help me be a better announcer.
So, friends and neighbors, and anyone within the sound of this broadcast, put on your girdle, glue in your weave, pull out your big foam fingers and come on down.
Hard Knox Roller Girls have had a couple of homes, each with their pros and cons. We're now looking forward to a bout this Saturday, April 19, and the ladies are hitting downtown, literally.
HKRG will be playing Memphis, I believe the B teams from both leagues, and it's happening in the old convention center under the Days Inn on Henley Street. You heard right, down-frickin-town.
Visit Brown Paper Tickets to preorder tickets for ten dollars or show up at the door for fifteen dollar tickets. Better yet, show up with five cans of food for Second Harvest Food Bank and get five bucks knocked off your ticket price and help feed some families that could use a little help. Kids under three are free, while kids three to five are only five dollars. Afterward, join the ladies at Sassy Anns to, hopefully, celebrate yet another win.
As usual, yours truly will be doing the announcing with a little help from Memphis' announcer. I haven't worked with another announcer before, so I look forward to meeting her, and I hope working with her can help me be a better announcer.
So, friends and neighbors, and anyone within the sound of this broadcast, put on your girdle, glue in your weave, pull out your big foam fingers and come on down.
Friday, April 11, 2008
keep on moving?
Momma has been raving about her new job almost non stop since her first shift. I've let it get to me a bit, not wanting to hear how happy she is when I've been feeling like such shit lately. I want to support her, but her joy ends up making my own lack seem more glaring.
It hasn't helped that, since day one, I've been pretty sure I wasn't going to like my new job. There's a distinct lack of morale among the cooks. Each shift has only one cook on the line, and the place opens at five pm. The opening/prep shift is four to eight while the closing shift is eight till whenever you finish cleaning, around two in the morning if you've been there long enough to have your tricks and techniques and assuming you don't bust your ass and do six hundred dollars in sales on your first solo shift.
A little brag here. Last night was my first solo shift and I did do around six hundred dollars in sales. After three years of being out of kitchens, I walked into that place and owned it. The worst crime I committed was burning bacon, but in my defense they use shitty precooked bacon that you basically warm and crisp on the flat top grill, and if you aren't hovering it burns very quickly.
Momma has mentioned the likelihood that I could get a job where she works, but I haven't really felt that I could do it. I should have known that I could, but the ol' self esteem has been lower than a caterpillar's balls lately, and I felt as if reaching too far or trying too much is going to see me getting knocked down yet again. It's an issue I'm trying to work on, and taking the job is just an early step.
So yeah, I'm already going to put in notice at my new job, after a week, and take another new job. I'll be working with Momma, though not quite with her as we will work opposing shifts as we always have. I'll be taking several steps up in terms of food quality, and I'll have a much better chance to learn and hone my technique. I'll also step a couple dollars up in hourly pay, which is definitely going to help.
And though I'm not sure exactly how it came about, Momma was nice enough to inform some amount of the staff that I'm gay. It seems kind of nice going in without having to wonder how to go about treating that bit of info, but again, it's not something you're ever sure people will take well. In the end I can only care/worry about that so much, and I don't intend to bother.
So we turn another page, this one a short one. I hope not to burn the bridge as the job I'm leaving remains my favorite bar to drink at and the bar at which I'm most likely to meet friends without planning to meet. I'll be working both places for a couple of weeks, and I'm certain that's bound to add to the thrills.
Finally, I'll link HERE to the website of a certain restaurant, but in the interest of blogging and working and not sure about how much info needs to be shared and not wanting to fuck up before I start, I won't share any more just now than that. I've been a stay at home dad the entire time that I've also been a blogger, so I've never blogged, before now, about a place I was employed at while writing. Again, in the interest of not fucking things up, I'll be sure to keep a sensible separation between the two. Any advice from fellow bloggers about this sort of thing is more than welcome.
It hasn't helped that, since day one, I've been pretty sure I wasn't going to like my new job. There's a distinct lack of morale among the cooks. Each shift has only one cook on the line, and the place opens at five pm. The opening/prep shift is four to eight while the closing shift is eight till whenever you finish cleaning, around two in the morning if you've been there long enough to have your tricks and techniques and assuming you don't bust your ass and do six hundred dollars in sales on your first solo shift.
A little brag here. Last night was my first solo shift and I did do around six hundred dollars in sales. After three years of being out of kitchens, I walked into that place and owned it. The worst crime I committed was burning bacon, but in my defense they use shitty precooked bacon that you basically warm and crisp on the flat top grill, and if you aren't hovering it burns very quickly.
Momma has mentioned the likelihood that I could get a job where she works, but I haven't really felt that I could do it. I should have known that I could, but the ol' self esteem has been lower than a caterpillar's balls lately, and I felt as if reaching too far or trying too much is going to see me getting knocked down yet again. It's an issue I'm trying to work on, and taking the job is just an early step.
So yeah, I'm already going to put in notice at my new job, after a week, and take another new job. I'll be working with Momma, though not quite with her as we will work opposing shifts as we always have. I'll be taking several steps up in terms of food quality, and I'll have a much better chance to learn and hone my technique. I'll also step a couple dollars up in hourly pay, which is definitely going to help.
And though I'm not sure exactly how it came about, Momma was nice enough to inform some amount of the staff that I'm gay. It seems kind of nice going in without having to wonder how to go about treating that bit of info, but again, it's not something you're ever sure people will take well. In the end I can only care/worry about that so much, and I don't intend to bother.
So we turn another page, this one a short one. I hope not to burn the bridge as the job I'm leaving remains my favorite bar to drink at and the bar at which I'm most likely to meet friends without planning to meet. I'll be working both places for a couple of weeks, and I'm certain that's bound to add to the thrills.
Finally, I'll link HERE to the website of a certain restaurant, but in the interest of blogging and working and not sure about how much info needs to be shared and not wanting to fuck up before I start, I won't share any more just now than that. I've been a stay at home dad the entire time that I've also been a blogger, so I've never blogged, before now, about a place I was employed at while writing. Again, in the interest of not fucking things up, I'll be sure to keep a sensible separation between the two. Any advice from fellow bloggers about this sort of thing is more than welcome.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
it's true
I don't pay a lot of attention to my statcounter, but I do look at it every couple of days. It's nice to see the number of visitors, and sometimes it's fun to see the different ways people get to me.
I am more than a little gratified to find that I come up first in a particular search, and a good number of visits I get are because of this search.
I am the number one hit when people google Robin Williams sucks, and it feels good.
I am more than a little gratified to find that I come up first in a particular search, and a good number of visits I get are because of this search.
I am the number one hit when people google Robin Williams sucks, and it feels good.
aarrrrrgggggghh
The IRS is a bunch of idiots. This is at least the ninth year that Momma and I have filed our tax returns together, each year filing as married filing jointly.
This is the ninth year they have fucked up Momma's name and in doing so delayed our refund.
When we got married, we did the normal thing, Momma changing her last name to mine. She did the normal thing of keeping her middle name and adding her maiden name as a second middle name. We went to the local office of the Social Security Administration and did it all correctly and legally.
Every year at tax time (nine if you remember correctly) we have had delays in getting our income tax return because the IRS doesn't have her name right. Every year we end up calling them and explaining the issue and telling them how to fix it.
Every single fucking year this happens.
And it's happened again. Possibly it happens because some dumb fuck in a cubicle doesn't update the information. I don't know why it happens.
I'm absolutely sick of this shit. We planned things rather poorly I'll admit, but we've been counting on the refund being in our checking account by a certain time, and we are so close to the edge financially based on this that we may end up completely broke.
And it's all the fault of the idiots at the IRS who can't manage in nine years to stop fucking us over. So thank you IRS. Don't bother fixing it this year, because by next year I can only imagine where our lives will be, and besides, I'm sure it's not your problem. You don't care if my kids are hungry. You don't care that some people don't have the money falling out their ass to deal with this kind of setback.
Fuck you, IRS!
This is the ninth year they have fucked up Momma's name and in doing so delayed our refund.
When we got married, we did the normal thing, Momma changing her last name to mine. She did the normal thing of keeping her middle name and adding her maiden name as a second middle name. We went to the local office of the Social Security Administration and did it all correctly and legally.
Every year at tax time (nine if you remember correctly) we have had delays in getting our income tax return because the IRS doesn't have her name right. Every year we end up calling them and explaining the issue and telling them how to fix it.
Every single fucking year this happens.
And it's happened again. Possibly it happens because some dumb fuck in a cubicle doesn't update the information. I don't know why it happens.
I'm absolutely sick of this shit. We planned things rather poorly I'll admit, but we've been counting on the refund being in our checking account by a certain time, and we are so close to the edge financially based on this that we may end up completely broke.
And it's all the fault of the idiots at the IRS who can't manage in nine years to stop fucking us over. So thank you IRS. Don't bother fixing it this year, because by next year I can only imagine where our lives will be, and besides, I'm sure it's not your problem. You don't care if my kids are hungry. You don't care that some people don't have the money falling out their ass to deal with this kind of setback.
Fuck you, IRS!
credit
I posted yesterday about words without giving some credit to a blogger Mike who posted a blog along similar lines which was part what put the subject on my mind. I meant to thank him then for the blog fodder and to tip the ol' hat in thanks.
He posed a question concerning whether calling people certain things was okay in the office environment. I personally assume offices are generally quiet, passive aggressive places, but most of what I assume I know about them comes from tv or movies, most notably the movie Office Space.
I've never in my life worked in an office. My very first job was busing table in a restaurant, and since then, probably 90% of the jobs I've held have been in restaurants. There have been brief forays in light construction and the several months I worked as a DJ in a titty bar, but really, I'm a restaurant lifer.
Restaurant culture is totally different from any other job. I'm not going to point out how different or why different, just accept that I'm right. We are a different sort of folk, and I feel that the very nature of the work demands something so different from other work that it really does require a different sort of folk.
And part of that is the ability to at least accept the foulness and vulgarity if not the ability to deal it out as best you can. It's generally good natured and often has extreme homoerotic overtones if not a little bit of homophobia. Again, I'm not really going too deeply into that either.
Really, the whole point of this post is to give Mike credit for planting the seed of the thought that became yesterday's post and to send him some link love.
He posed a question concerning whether calling people certain things was okay in the office environment. I personally assume offices are generally quiet, passive aggressive places, but most of what I assume I know about them comes from tv or movies, most notably the movie Office Space.
I've never in my life worked in an office. My very first job was busing table in a restaurant, and since then, probably 90% of the jobs I've held have been in restaurants. There have been brief forays in light construction and the several months I worked as a DJ in a titty bar, but really, I'm a restaurant lifer.
Restaurant culture is totally different from any other job. I'm not going to point out how different or why different, just accept that I'm right. We are a different sort of folk, and I feel that the very nature of the work demands something so different from other work that it really does require a different sort of folk.
And part of that is the ability to at least accept the foulness and vulgarity if not the ability to deal it out as best you can. It's generally good natured and often has extreme homoerotic overtones if not a little bit of homophobia. Again, I'm not really going too deeply into that either.
Really, the whole point of this post is to give Mike credit for planting the seed of the thought that became yesterday's post and to send him some link love.
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
things we say
Language warning. The following screeching contains a very few words of questionable offensiveness. Read it anyway. Be a damn grown up.
My poor little blog seems to be slowly dying from neglect. I'm not intentionally neglecting the thing, but trying to write has not gotten any easier lately. If anything, my willingness to write has stayed the same, sort of, while my desire to post what I come up with continues to decline.
What you haven't gotten nearly enough of from me lately is a nice healthy rant. I've kept my ire entirely to myself for far too long. While I was off being unhappy, I was still finding targets for anger, but they don't nearly affect me lately as much as other issues I can't stop over-pondering. So what has been bothering me?
I've thought lately about words. Certainly I've considered words before, but lately I've noticed more of an ability for words to have impact, often an impact that the speaker has never considered, and there is often no way to explain, no way to make someone understand that how you hear their words is far removed from how those words sound to them.
One word, cocksucker, and a phrase, that's so gay, have stuck out in my mind lately. There are plenty of variations on these two, but these two are enough to start my little conversation. The suggestion is that enjoying fellatio as a giver or being gay are inherently demeaning to one's manhood, so it follows that they are great words to use to insult people. Cocksucker/gay=undesirable trait
What really bothers me with these words are the inability to explain to people in a way they understand why it might bother me or others to hear them used in this manner. I've only been able to explain to one person, and though she isn't black, when I compared her use of the word gay as a negative adjective to someone using the word nigger, she seemed to at least get for a moment why it might not be okay. She's a good friend and not someone who would intentionally be hurtful, but she also couldn't accept that in might bother me that she would use gay in such a way.
So how do you make the average person understand? What compares, in each individual world, to gay or to a racial epithet? What word has enough power to offend? I can't really think of any. While many women abhor the words cunt or bitch, they don't quite seem to have the same power for as many people. The bother is more a personal issue on an individual level.
The only tool I really have when confronting this is to turn it around, to make the situation lighter through disagreement, yet people often don't get it unless they also know that I'm gay. And while I might have made a show of announcing it in certain locales, not everyone reads the blog, and I don't wear my "Hello, my name is Gay" convention sticker everyday.
So I disagree. I hear the tired phrase and tell the speaker why they are wrong, why the situation or the thing is in fact not gay. "Andre champagne is the gayest? No sir. In fact it isn't gay at all. It's of low quality and has a poor taste and is in fact not even champagne. Andre may well be quite heterosexual," to use a conversation that took place recently. But all that gets is a laugh at the perceived joke or a blank stare of not understanding.
I do have friends, including the young lady mentioned above, who are quite able to use the word gay as a description and in a non negative fashion. These are people who are quite accepting of me and quite unconcerned with the homosexuality of their friends. They're the best kind of people, and I'm slowly building a network of friends for whom gayness is no more or less important than any other aspect of who you are. When you know that someone doesn't look down on the sucking of a cock you don't mind hearing it so much, and when those same people can just as easily describe the same situation as comparable to licking cunts it seems more easy to hear it.
So where have I arrived with all this? What great lesson have I learned? Not a fucking thing. All I know is that it used make me pause when I almost caught myself suggesting something was gay, and now it bothers me on some level to hear it, and I'm quite willing to point it out and to deny someone the chance to use it with impunity. I will in fact call you on it and at least try to make you see. Does it always work, or more accurately, will it ever work?
Feel free to comment about this with your own thoughts. I'd really like to hear what others think. Feel free to remind me of words I've used that make me a hypocrite.
My poor little blog seems to be slowly dying from neglect. I'm not intentionally neglecting the thing, but trying to write has not gotten any easier lately. If anything, my willingness to write has stayed the same, sort of, while my desire to post what I come up with continues to decline.
What you haven't gotten nearly enough of from me lately is a nice healthy rant. I've kept my ire entirely to myself for far too long. While I was off being unhappy, I was still finding targets for anger, but they don't nearly affect me lately as much as other issues I can't stop over-pondering. So what has been bothering me?
I've thought lately about words. Certainly I've considered words before, but lately I've noticed more of an ability for words to have impact, often an impact that the speaker has never considered, and there is often no way to explain, no way to make someone understand that how you hear their words is far removed from how those words sound to them.
One word, cocksucker, and a phrase, that's so gay, have stuck out in my mind lately. There are plenty of variations on these two, but these two are enough to start my little conversation. The suggestion is that enjoying fellatio as a giver or being gay are inherently demeaning to one's manhood, so it follows that they are great words to use to insult people. Cocksucker/gay=undesirable trait
What really bothers me with these words are the inability to explain to people in a way they understand why it might bother me or others to hear them used in this manner. I've only been able to explain to one person, and though she isn't black, when I compared her use of the word gay as a negative adjective to someone using the word nigger, she seemed to at least get for a moment why it might not be okay. She's a good friend and not someone who would intentionally be hurtful, but she also couldn't accept that in might bother me that she would use gay in such a way.
So how do you make the average person understand? What compares, in each individual world, to gay or to a racial epithet? What word has enough power to offend? I can't really think of any. While many women abhor the words cunt or bitch, they don't quite seem to have the same power for as many people. The bother is more a personal issue on an individual level.
The only tool I really have when confronting this is to turn it around, to make the situation lighter through disagreement, yet people often don't get it unless they also know that I'm gay. And while I might have made a show of announcing it in certain locales, not everyone reads the blog, and I don't wear my "Hello, my name is Gay" convention sticker everyday.
So I disagree. I hear the tired phrase and tell the speaker why they are wrong, why the situation or the thing is in fact not gay. "Andre champagne is the gayest? No sir. In fact it isn't gay at all. It's of low quality and has a poor taste and is in fact not even champagne. Andre may well be quite heterosexual," to use a conversation that took place recently. But all that gets is a laugh at the perceived joke or a blank stare of not understanding.
I do have friends, including the young lady mentioned above, who are quite able to use the word gay as a description and in a non negative fashion. These are people who are quite accepting of me and quite unconcerned with the homosexuality of their friends. They're the best kind of people, and I'm slowly building a network of friends for whom gayness is no more or less important than any other aspect of who you are. When you know that someone doesn't look down on the sucking of a cock you don't mind hearing it so much, and when those same people can just as easily describe the same situation as comparable to licking cunts it seems more easy to hear it.
So where have I arrived with all this? What great lesson have I learned? Not a fucking thing. All I know is that it used make me pause when I almost caught myself suggesting something was gay, and now it bothers me on some level to hear it, and I'm quite willing to point it out and to deny someone the chance to use it with impunity. I will in fact call you on it and at least try to make you see. Does it always work, or more accurately, will it ever work?
Feel free to comment about this with your own thoughts. I'd really like to hear what others think. Feel free to remind me of words I've used that make me a hypocrite.
Friday, April 04, 2008
my life . . .
. . . is like asking for Cherry Coke and getting flat cola with not enough grenadine in it.
I had an IM conversation with a friend today. He was talking about the girl he likes, explaining that he likes her more than she likes him. He explained that this is a problem that he's figured out about himself, that he too often sees more in a relationship than do the girls with whom he has the relationship.
I didn't tell him that that's the way I feel about him. It wouldn't have helped. He's made a point of explaining that he's not gay when I've messed with him about it. He doesn't know how I really feel, that I've actually had some amount of trouble getting myself over him. He doesn't need to know.
But I know, and our conversation, while helpful to him in figuring out the direction he plans to take, didn't help me at all. It merely served to slam me back into a place I thought I'd gotten passed. He's a great friend and someone I'm glad to have in my life, but it's hard to accept that I can't have him in my life in the way I want.
It makes me want to smash my head into the wall, but I learned years ago how little benefit there is in that. It's really too bad that, on some level, I'm still doing it, knowing all the time that it only hurts me. The wall doesn't give a shit.
edited to add: if you see yourself in the above, please understand that it really is okay and I promise I didn't tell anyone else. Also, I forgot that I told you about my blog, but I'm leaving this up anyway. I deal in melodrama like Republicans deal in lies and being assholes. It's just how I am.
I had an IM conversation with a friend today. He was talking about the girl he likes, explaining that he likes her more than she likes him. He explained that this is a problem that he's figured out about himself, that he too often sees more in a relationship than do the girls with whom he has the relationship.
I didn't tell him that that's the way I feel about him. It wouldn't have helped. He's made a point of explaining that he's not gay when I've messed with him about it. He doesn't know how I really feel, that I've actually had some amount of trouble getting myself over him. He doesn't need to know.
But I know, and our conversation, while helpful to him in figuring out the direction he plans to take, didn't help me at all. It merely served to slam me back into a place I thought I'd gotten passed. He's a great friend and someone I'm glad to have in my life, but it's hard to accept that I can't have him in my life in the way I want.
It makes me want to smash my head into the wall, but I learned years ago how little benefit there is in that. It's really too bad that, on some level, I'm still doing it, knowing all the time that it only hurts me. The wall doesn't give a shit.
edited to add: if you see yourself in the above, please understand that it really is okay and I promise I didn't tell anyone else. Also, I forgot that I told you about my blog, but I'm leaving this up anyway. I deal in melodrama like Republicans deal in lies and being assholes. It's just how I am.
Thursday, April 03, 2008
mmmmmmmmm vital fluids
Regardless of how much I eat lately, it seems I'm never quite satisfied. I think I may finally have come across the solution to this problem. Thanks go to Joel Derfner whose blog I recently staggered across. He's perfect for me to have a crush on as he's hot and completely unavailable, but it does help that it's not another straight guy.
Anyway, to learn more about my new diet click HERE.
Anyway, to learn more about my new diet click HERE.
job news
Momma and I now officially both have jobs. Money has not yet quite gotten tight, and according to IRS dot gov our income tax refund will arrive in time to keep us afloat long enough to start getting paid. We did at one time have other plans for the money, but that's how we roll I suppose.
Both our jobs see our return to the Old City, our absolute favorite place to be. I'll be working at the place with the awesome patio. I start training in the kitchen Saturday night and will soon be following a server around learning how to remember which drink goes where and how to tell the computer to tell the bartender to make four purple hooter shooters.
To be honest, it isn't especially my first choice of a job, but it also sort of is. The vast majority of my work experience is in similar sorts of places, so bar food won't be stretching my limits too much. After three-ish years of not working, easing back into it seems like a good idea. Plus with the cross training in front and back of house I'm only making myself a more rounded employee. Also I will obviously have to retake the ABC class for which my permit just recently expired.
Momma put in a couple of applications. What had been her top choice made room for her other top choice as I pointed out that, while either job would get her what she wanted, one was closer. She wanted to stay in a more high end sort of kitchen, and she was really leaning toward the French place that is only slightly out west. Perusing the menu at the closer place helped her realize that it's equally as high end and would give her the same opportunity to learn technique and that it's closer. She allowed the closer place to move into the number one spot, and she got the job.
So Momma arrived at the gastropub at ten this morning. She took one of our chef's knives as well as her sushi knives which may very well not come in handy. She has been excited and perhaps a bit nervous. I'm really happy for her and look forward to the two of us finally earning money and getting to eat there. The menu looks amazing.
And with that we are both employed again. Soon after we spend the last of our refund we will start bringing home checks. Hers will most assuredly be larger than mine, though it will likely not be as large as she was bringing home. Soon I should be serving and bringing home a pocket full of cash to supplement the meager amount the cooking side of my job will bring in. And though the sun isn't out today where I am, life is slightly brighter.
Both our jobs see our return to the Old City, our absolute favorite place to be. I'll be working at the place with the awesome patio. I start training in the kitchen Saturday night and will soon be following a server around learning how to remember which drink goes where and how to tell the computer to tell the bartender to make four purple hooter shooters.
To be honest, it isn't especially my first choice of a job, but it also sort of is. The vast majority of my work experience is in similar sorts of places, so bar food won't be stretching my limits too much. After three-ish years of not working, easing back into it seems like a good idea. Plus with the cross training in front and back of house I'm only making myself a more rounded employee. Also I will obviously have to retake the ABC class for which my permit just recently expired.
Momma put in a couple of applications. What had been her top choice made room for her other top choice as I pointed out that, while either job would get her what she wanted, one was closer. She wanted to stay in a more high end sort of kitchen, and she was really leaning toward the French place that is only slightly out west. Perusing the menu at the closer place helped her realize that it's equally as high end and would give her the same opportunity to learn technique and that it's closer. She allowed the closer place to move into the number one spot, and she got the job.
So Momma arrived at the gastropub at ten this morning. She took one of our chef's knives as well as her sushi knives which may very well not come in handy. She has been excited and perhaps a bit nervous. I'm really happy for her and look forward to the two of us finally earning money and getting to eat there. The menu looks amazing.
And with that we are both employed again. Soon after we spend the last of our refund we will start bringing home checks. Hers will most assuredly be larger than mine, though it will likely not be as large as she was bringing home. Soon I should be serving and bringing home a pocket full of cash to supplement the meager amount the cooking side of my job will bring in. And though the sun isn't out today where I am, life is slightly brighter.
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
bigger than
I feel as if I've posted this before. It almost quite seems as though I have. Whether or not I did or not, you really need to click on the triangle and turn this song waaaaaaaaay up. Way up! If you are reading this, this song is quite likely outside your normal sort of thing you would usually listen to. I suggest you play and listen to this song anyway. Even if it makes you a little uncomfortable go ahead and click the triangle.
best fucking bass line evar!
best fucking bass line evar!
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