Thursday, September 8, 2011

Green Beans and Toilets

Trying to keep up with two blogs is kicking my ass. I can barely manage one. Oh well. Must keep this one going to preserve my sanity. That and to tell you guys the funny shit that comes out of Papa D's mouth. I mean, I understand getting some words mixed up, but photographic and pornographic? Yeah, I'm still a bit befuddled by that one.

His latest though, is that he was trying to say that K's bro is a chick magnet. Instead, he said, that K's bro is a chick maggot. LOL

Last night at dinner, my grandmother forced me to eat green beans. *shudder* She prepared to dish them onto my plate, asking, "Green beans?" I politely refused, and she comes back with, "Excuse me? You will eat a vegetable." And that's when I realized that those nasty little green things were the only vegetable on the table. She put six green beans on my plate and told me I would eat them. The pasta rice and the grilling tenders covered in BBQ sauce couldn't drown the horrific taste of those nasty little green things. I ate five of them.

I gave the sixth one to the dog.

I was actually concerned that I would get caught. But the dog charged out the back door causing K, Papa D, and K's bro to get up and chase her. I tossed one onto the floor, and then spent ten minutes trying to get the damn dogs attention under the table - discreetly. I finally managed to get her and pointed a finger to the floor and she found the disgusting green bean.

Thank God for dogs, is all I say.

Now, I found this sign above a toilet in a restaurant. I can't remember which one, but yeah, it was only slightly disconcerting. If you have to have signs telling people how to flush toilets, there may be other more serious issues that need to be discussed. Are there too many automatic flushing toilets out there?

Monday, August 15, 2011

I'll never have a husband?

How do you mention to your grandfather that he has offended you or hurt you in some fashion? I mean, without possibly hurting the good relationship you have with him? In my situation, I won't. I shall just let it roll off my shoulders and try to remember his "filter" doesn't work at all like most people's.

Last Friday I went with him on a special delivery - putting a rack in a new location and to fill it with our papers. He'd been driving around northeast California for 3 days picking up ad copy, so I offered to go with him on Friday, since I didn't have to work at Job 3. That way someone besides him knew where the new location was. Plus I was really hoping he'd want someone else (like me) to drive since he'd already been on the road for 3 days. Luck, as it were, was not on my side.

We left around 7 a.m. and stopped in Town to get gas. After we got back on the road, he suddenly panicked that he'd forgotten the bank deposits that he was supposed to take care of later that afternoon when we got back. I looked around the floor between the seats and he told me that they should be in his briefcase. In the backseat. I turned out and realized it was just far enough of my reach to make it difficult, so I told him we could check later when we stopped. Instead of agreeing with me, he instead - while driving - to reach back there to retrieve it. And wound up heading for the other lane. I scolded him . . . okay, I kinda yelled . . . "Not while your driving!" So, I reached back to get it, and it flipped off the backseat and twisted my left wrist. From that moment on, I was not in the best of moods.

Oh, and the bank deposits were in there.

Later when we got to our destination, his friend B was there waiting for us. B is kind enough to keep a few bundles of our paper in his garage and redistribute as our locations in that town become empty. We put our rack in the new location and put papers in it. Took all of 5 minutes. So B and Papa D decide to go to a cafe for some coffee. It was there that my mood got worse.

At some point in the conversation, we began to talk about food. B asked me if I like lamb, and I told him no. Well, that got Papa D going on and on about all the foods I don't like. And then said something - basically the gist was this: I will never have a husband because he won't like putting up with a picky eater.

Slap meet face.

I actually wanted to cry.

For starters, it's none of B's damned business how picky of an eater I am. I've eaten in his presence twice and everyone had burgers.

I admit, I am a pretty picky eater. I will say that I've improved a lot in the last 15 years. Trust me. But, unfortunately, I don't see it changing too much in the present. I don't like being a picky eater; it can be relatively embarrassing when others find out just how much I don't like. For many things, I think it's a texture thing, others it's because I just flat-out don't like the flavor or lack there of. But at 31 years of age, my eating habits are not bound to change much more. My grandparents, well my grandfather, has lectured me a couple of times already that I'm doomed to have medical problems later in life. My grandfather had the fucking balls to tell me two days after my Granddad passed about how poorly my Granddad must have eaten to have wound up a diabetic. (Unfortunately, stupid medical professionals never relayed that message to my Granddad). My Granddad wasn't a poor eater - the older he got the more salt he'd put on his food. He deserved some salt after living through being shot and a plane crash that literally killed him, 3 times.

If I hadn't been sitting on the inside of the booth at the cafe, I would have left the table. I think B saw the lightening flash in my eyes and after Papa D beat a dead horse, the topic was discarded. But my foul mood didn't improve.

The funny that did happen was this: on our way out of town, we were stopped at an intersection. A big ass truck was hauling one big ass 5th wheel. Probably a 45 footer. As it's pulling through the intersection -

Papa D: Wow, that's a really big motor home.

Me: *trying not to laugh* Um, that's what we call a 5th wheel.

Papa D: Because it doesn't have a motor in it, right?

Oh dear.

Thursday, August 4, 2011

Toot your own horn much?

I'm all for tooting my own horn once in awhile, but there are people that go too far with it. We all like having recognition for things that we've done; being recognized, thanked, and appreciated for our hard work makes us feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I would say that the average person forgoes most recognition and just plods along.

What is annoying, however, are the folks that have let everyone know everything they did. It was their idea. It was their brain power. It was their planning. It was their actions.

K's brother is a decent example. Every day at lunch and or dinner, I have listen to this alcoholic toot his damn horn. He's got all these great ideas, he does all this hard work. And he'll detail every job, not just list it. That's great. But I'm sick and tired of hearing him talk.

Anymore, I'm hardly talkative at the table during lunch or dinner. Why? Because K's brother is talking about how fucking awesome he is. I'd almost go so far as to nickname him Captain Awesome, but he really isn't awesome. He's a loser. He just got out of jail for his third DUI and doesn't get paid for any work he does. Why? Because he'll wind up falling off the wagon yet again.

Now, part of me is glad he's back because he can do a lot of work that my grandparents and myself can't do. Sober, he's a decent worker. But either way, he's annoying because he's constantly tooting his own horn.

These kind of people are everywhere. Every job has at least one. It's okay to want to be recognized for your hard work.

But no one likes to hear how fucking awesome everything you do is. Besides, more than likely it's your job anyway, so . . . what's the big deal?

Thursday, July 28, 2011

Just another day, hangin' with my grandfather . . .

I was on the road delivering papers with Papa D this afternoon after Job 3. And as usual, hanging out with my grandfather can be interesting. Someone really ought to get me a digital recorder to take on the road with me, because this shit is priceless. Some of the things that he says, you just roll your eyes, while others make your jaw drop, and other times you just shake your head in wonder. As in, if the DMV knew about his memory, would they have just renewed his license?

As we started to deliver in Town, he mentioned at least three times (in the first 30 minutes), that tomorrow (Friday) we'd be delivering to Fall River and Burney, plus 4 other places.

I politely asked, "Aren't I doing those stops this weekend when I deliver?" (meaning the 4 other places)

He replies with an inhaling hiss, and a face that says, 'I don't think so, Tim', and says, "Well . . . I guess you could . . . I just wanted to get them out before all the events this weekend."

We go through this every month. My guess is that because he did the routes his way for so long, he just doesn't remember the changes that were made when I came to Sticksville. Plus, I had no idea what events he was speaking of for this weekend. There isn't anything big going on this weekend in NorCal . . . at least not our section of it. I let it go.

Later, as we were driving over the pass to get home, he mentions this weekend again.

PD: "Well, I just really want to get these delivered before the 4th."

I was a wee bit confused . . . the 4th? Of July? It's nearly August.

Me: "The 4th?? It's nearly August 1st."

He started laughing, "Oh jeez. Well, there's a thing at Eagle Lake. What is it?"

Me: "Eagle Lake? You mean the BBQ?"

PD: "Yeah, when is that?"

Me: "I don't remember. We can check at home."

Back home, we sat at the kitchen table, telling K about our afternoon delivering. Papa D checked a paper on the table and finds the ad for the BBQ at Eagle Lake - it's September 3rd. He pointed to it and told us, "That BBQ is on September 3rd; I really want to get these delivered before this BBQ this weekend."

K and I look at each other, a bit dumbfounded, and she said, "Honey, it's not even August yet!"

He laughed and said, "Oh jeez."

And the DMV just gave him another license.

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

Weather Reports

My grandfather kind of gets hung up on the weather report. Now, where we are, we don't have our own local station. Our "local" channels come from towns about 3 hours in any given direction. And all of them are somewhat messed up. At least, for our part of the country. Or so PD thinks. It's not like the weather guys get it right all the time every where else anyway.

This morning I went over to help feed, just like every other day.  There's a cool north breeze blowing making it a very nice morning. Although you still break a sweat pitching hay and the re-loading the hay truck with bales of hay. But there's still a promise of it being a warm day.

After feeding the horses, I climbed onto the back of the feed truck so we could go feed our weaned calves. On our way, he says to that it looks like it will be another warm day. I agreed. Then this conversation ensued:

PD: Did you see the weather report last night or this morning?

Me: No, I haven't.

PD: Well, you know that the reports we get aren't quite right.

Me: Yeah, I know.

PD: I was asking if you saw it to see if the report you saw was any different than what we saw.

Me: (trying not to laugh) Oh, um, I doubt it would be.

I had to turn my head away from the side mirror so that he didn't see me laughing. I just thought it was hilarious that he actually thought the weather report at my house was any different than the report at their house.

It just tickled my funny bone.

Sunday, July 17, 2011

Lectures are so last season

Why does it seem that every old person despises any type of curse word?

Yes, I curse. Sometimes it's too much. Sometimes I deem it appropriate.

I do have the right of free speech. So when I say something like, "re-typing my fucking story", and I was really annoyed about something at the time. Like, super annoyed. I don't need some older person commenting on such a thing with "Shame on you for using the f-word, now I need to wash your mouth out with soap".

Because I'm quite sure they've cursed. And I'm sure their kids curse. And quite possibly their grandkids.  I watch my mouth around people I don't know, when I'm at work, around family, and in certain situations or places where it wouldn't be appropriate to say anything worse than "crap".

Besides, I'm pretty sure they're not perfect either. So quit judging. I've already had my grandparents (who are also my employer) censor my other blog. Facebook and this blog won't be censored.

If I'm pissed, you'll know it. If I'm sad, you'll know it. If I'm happy, yep, you'll know it.

Judgers can get off their high horses.

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Bachmann and Santorum Can Suck A Fart.

There really ought to be a law that keeps douche-canoes from running for president. Or any political office of any kind. This is why I despise politics - there are too many fucking idiots trying to outdo each other and don't use the brain filter that keeps stupid shit from spewing forth. And the fact that someone, in this day and age, can have such prejudicial feelings and can make such fucked up statements is the front runner Republican candidate for president makes me want to move anywhere but here. Please click here to read the article I'm referring to.

A few days ago, Michelle Gagman Bachmann signed a pledge or vow or whatever the hell you want to call it, that had this in the opening statement:

"Slavery had a disastrous impact on African-American families, yet sadly a child born into slavery in 1860 was more likely to be raised by his mother and father in a two-parent household than was an African-American baby born after the election of the USA's first African-American President."

Now, anyone in their right fucking mind and running for political office (in my mind) should have steered clear of anything with such a statement. If I remember right from my history classes, slaves where bought and sold on a regular basis and it was extremely rare for a family to not be separated at any given point - because their master's didn't give a shit. Also, the women were raped on a fairly regular basis - how fucking healthy is that for a child to grow up knowing that their mother is nothing more than some asshole's sex doll? Then I saw this:

"It's not clear whether Bachmann was aware of the slavery passage on the first page."

Um, what jackwagon signs something without reading it? Evidently, both Gagman Bachmann and some other douche nozzle named Rick Santorum signed some document about marriage vows.

"The Marriage Vow - A Declaration of Dependence Upon Marriage and Family,", their campaigns emphasized that the "candidate vow" portion of the pledge that they put their stamps of approval on didn't mention slavery. Instead, it condemned gay marriage, abortion, infidelity and pornography."

Now, if it was purposefully held from that, the whole bit about slavery, then that's one thing. Then the douche-baggery falls onto this Iowa group for witholding vital information from the jackwagon politians. However, while I understand that everyone has their own political view, their own familial views and all that stuff, is it really necessary to flat out say that your condemning homosexuality, abortion, infidelity, and pornography? Not everyone is into porn, I get that. So don't fucking watch it. Most people don't like infedelity (even though it happens a lot), so really, we didn't need to sign some vow about how much we hate it. Abortion is a woman's choice. It's a her choice what she does with her own body, whether or not anyone else agrees with her. I myself could not do it, unless perhaps there were extenuating circumstances, but I cannot tell another woman not to do it. It's her fucking right. Then I saw this at the bottom of the article about Santorum's view on abortion:

"He told the Christian Broadcasting Network that for decades, slavery allowed blacks to be treated like property. He said fetuses are denied the right to life because they are considered property."

I think smoke came out of my ears. For thousands of years across the globe (or what was considered the "globe" thousands of years ago), slaves were considered property. Bought and sold like any other commodity. Eventually people came to their senses and realized that those slaves are, in fact, people, too and perhaps should be treated as such. However, maybe it's just me, but I don't think that people these days think of a fetus as "property". I know I sure as shit don't. Nor does my family. Nor do my friends. While I realize there are women out there that, in a sense, give abortion a bad name by using that as their form of birth control, my bet is that a lot of women actually give it some thought. It's a big decision. I would hope that the average woman would make an educated decision about whether or not she's capable (financially, physically, emotionally, etc.) of raising a child and caring for it. I know women who have had abortions. Do I think any less of them? Nope. Not at all. They simply made a decision based on how their lives were. Some regretted it, or still felt sad about it, but in the end they know they made the right decision at that time. And that, folks, is what really matters.

 While homosexuality is not my preference, again, far be it for me to tell another how to live. If that's what floats your boat and makes you happy, then you have a right to pursue happiness. I cannot understand how people think that gay marriage is ruining the world and is a threat to the institution of marriage. Okay, then how many heterosexual couple make it these days? It's not the gays fault that hetero's divorce 50% of the time. Being gay does not make them bad people. People who love each other and want to share it with their families should have a fucking right to do so.

"She stands by the points that are outlined in the pledge," she said. "Particularly the ones for strong marriage. She's been happily married for 32 years. That's the focus of the pledge."

Should I tell her that my Granny & Granddad were married for 66 years? Kinda blows her 32 years out of the water. Yes, marriage has somewhat become a farce in a sense - as soon as it gets tough, someone files for divorce. It's sad to see so many marriages ending in divorce - I don't care if it's been 6 months or 40 years. It's terrible to see families split up and kids used as chess pieces so that adults can get what they want. But I'll tell you this - Gagman Bachmann signing this pledge isn't going to improve anything. The only way divorce will die down is if people try their absolute hardest to make it work.

If she gets elected, I'm moving to another country and say I'm Canadian. (note to self: find passport) Everyone likes Canadians. Not only that, but I'd be too fucking embarrassed to be from a country that elects such a fucktard. I'm embarrassed that she's a Republican front runner - because I tend to vote Republican. Please don't hold that against me - because I wouldn't vote for her if she were the last politician in the universe. Nor the other douche-canoe.

Sticking a fork in my eye would be preferable. Although I'd really hate for it to come to that. So therefore, these douche nozzles can suck a fart out of my ass.