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Yesteryear

Saturday, January 31, 2009

January 31, 2009


           Living dangerously. This is an ad for a homemade barbeque. You can see it is made from an old propane bottle. This one is smoking away. The ad specifies the maker is looking for used propane bottles, presumably those that no longer hold propane. The ad is posted on a local bulletin board read mostly by ESL types.
           I like the concept for a great recycle idea and the metal is probably safer than the tin models sold at WalMart. I’ve never barbequed anything in my life. As I once heard a man named Reynolds say, “I remember when we at inside the house and took a dump outside.” And he was elected mayor.
           Lesson learned at the office. Don’t try to get any intellectual work done on weekends. There are too many interruptions. Not one word-sync came out of today. It turns out each tune requires at least twenty minutes, even one distraction and you have to start over. I view such things as a positive distancing with any potential competition but it would still have been nice to get some mileage done today.

           Besides the laundry, I mean. I got the laundry done despite the fact the coin-op dryer up the road was out of service. That meant I was over using Teresa’s dryer. We visited for a few hours and confirmed we are decent company but quite different people than could have been imagined. One thing she mentions repeatedly is how I don’t hesitate to explain certain aspects of my personality. She insists this is not only unusual because I’m “open”, but because “most men don’t appear to have even thought about that”. The part I’ll agree with is that men don’t question what they don’t think about. Teresa has clearly been on the receiving end of that.
           During this process we watched a TV program called “Two And A Half Men”. I didn’t realize it was supposed to be funny because it was pathetic. For that brand of comedy, The Simpson’s moves twice as fast, and can claim occasional flashes of creativity. But the other show is just more of that mines-bigger-than-yours crap some men never grow out of.

           We also talked about income options. She is an advertising salesperson, what I consider to be a tough, stressful hard sell. Cold-calling for the newspapers. Still, she seems to have a knack and does speak of starting her own registered charity. I am all for that, I think it is a single provision in tax section 500. In case of that, I am elected to do the paperwork.
           She also knows people who have done the walkaround security work at the casinos, mentioning this pays $8 per hour. Piecing this together, that means anyone who runs the system that the security walkarounds follow must make twice that. It is the American way. So when Pete the Rock mentioned he knows the people who do the hiring at Gulfstream, suddenly I’m interested. I used to work in a control booth type situation. You’ve seen them on TV, the operators behind the overhead cameras that blanket casinos. Check in later because Pete the Rock says they hire part time.

           [Author’s note: yes, this is the first mention of Pete the Rock. He is a dude from New York who seems to know everybody over 60 in Broward County. That loud and booming voice you hear in parks and cafes while you are trying to talk on your cell phone? That’s Pete the Rock. He crashed here for a couple of weeks last month. Gets a big check once a year, prefers second-hand clothes, takes taxis everywhere.]

           I got up to the Barn after closing time and read an odd book about some of the dumb things that happen in crime investigation. Like the dog who pushed 911 on the phone by accident. When the police heard no voice, they traced the call. Then found 1500 marijuana plants at the address.

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