WHAT?!?!?!

How can this place even exist?? Don't tell me that the owners were unaware of what their name implied...

A Back Door Bead & Yarn Co
6174 E Speedway Blvd
TUCSON, AZ 85712 - 5127
(520) 745-9080

An Old Joke Made Better

A penguin is driving through the desert when his car breaks down. Luckily for him he sees a gas station; he hikes through the stifling heat and the dusty desert air for what seems like hours until he gets there. He arrives, desperately out of his element in this dry, hot environment, and gasping for breath he asks for a mechanic.

"Well, it just so happens we repair cars here, too" said the guy at the gas station. "Let me have a look at your car. And Jesus, you're a penguin, aren't you?"

"Of course I am," gasped the penguin, knowing that if there were a merciful God in Heaven above he'd be swimming in the cold ocean right now instead of being crammed into some stupid, meaningless joke which will be told so many times that eventually it will lose all humor value so that the person being told the joke will laugh nervously at the joke-teller like they've just raped the joke-hearer's grandmother anally with a shovel and say "haha yeah, it's just ice cream."

"Then you must be incredibly hot, what with not being in Antarctica. You should get inside, grab some ice cream from the freezer. Cool down, little man."

The penguin briefly considered correcting the mechanic, pointing out that he wasn't one of the species of penguin which lives in Antarctica, but he quickly realized the futility in such an action and decided against it. People don't ever really listen anyway; once they've made up their minds there's no way of opening them back up. Besides, correcting people just pisses them off, and the penguin could definitely see himself getting stuck out here in the middle of the desert with an angry mechanic who, knowing his luck, probably had a thing for anally raping penguins.

Instead he went in to get the ice cream. As he ate it he realized that he didn't really need ice cream, that he was already in possession of a little penguin gut. His weight, as his mother might say, was becoming something of a problem. He cried a little as he realized what a pathetic, fat fuck he was, and he cried even harder when he remembered his mother getting eaten by that killer whale just a few months prior. He'd never even had a chance to say goodbye to her, and now she was being gradually squirted out of some whale's asshole like yesterday's halibut, and it was technically all his fault. Maybe if he'd visited her more, maybe he could have kept her away from the whale's feeding grounds. If only...

As he sobbed harder his belly jiggled, and this made him cry even harder because he was coming to realize that no woman penguin could ever truly love a lardass like himself and that he'd most likely die alone, trapped between some killer whale's jaws and praying for a quick, painful death which would never come. He knew his death would be slow, painful, and miserable. It was what he deserved, after all. He'd basically killed his mother; why would he deserve better?

He sloppily finished the ice cream and, wiping the tears from his eyes with a flipper, he sauntered out to the mechanic to check out the progress on the car.

"How's it looking?" the penguin asked, sniffling.

"Well, it looks like you blew a seal," the mechanic said, turning around to face the penguin and his ice cream-covered mouth.

"Oh, the car blew a seal," the penguin said. "That's not too bad."

"No, it looks like you crammed a seal's penis into your mouth and sucked it until the seal ejaculated into your mouth, at which point he pulled out and shot his load all over your lips.

"Fuck you," the penguin said, fresh tears welling up in his eyes. "Who the fuck do you think you are to judge me just because I loved Stan? He loved me, too."

"Yeah, like any penguin would ever be able to love you and that fat ass of yours," said the mechanic, turning back to the car. "Your car will be ready in an hour, you sick little fat fuck."

"Oh God," sobbed the penguin, running back into the station to kill his fresh pain with more ice cream.

El Nino de Karate

Last night the Karate Kid was on. I absolutely loved that movie when I was younger, so I thought Robb might like it. We snuggled up on the couch to watch it over a frozen pizza. It was as endearing as ever, and of course Robbie loved it. He is currently practicing all the moves (you know... "Paint the fence. Sand the floor. Wax on wax off. Paint the house", and most especially the crane move) and really liked the stressing of the credo "fight for defensive purposes only".

As I watched it though, I began to wonder about a bunch of things that never caught my attention way back when. For example, when Daniel meets his friend as they're moving into the apartment complex, he tells the guy they moved there because his mom got a good job. A few scenes later, he goes to visit his mom at work and she is a waitress. Not knocking the waitressing profession, just wondering how good a job waiting tables would have to be to induce one to move across country.

Also, the whole wax on wax off thing? I realize the point was to train him for karate, but didn't Mr. Miyagi want the cars clean, too? If you watch Daniel waxing on and off, he waxes on one area, and waxes off an area that has no wax. Sheesh.

Time sequencing was really weird too. It was most noticeable when Danial and Alli had a date on Saturday night. The next morning Daniel rides over to Mr. Miyagi's house and has a day of wax on wax off. At the end of the day, Mr. M. says come back tomorrow morning. Daniel does, and has a day of sand the deck. Next day he paints the fence, and day after that he paints the house. Then he's back at school. Did he seriously just take 3 days off to fix up Mr. Miyagi's house?

But who am I kidding, I still loved it and always will. I think tomorrow night I'll go rent part 2 for Robbs. Don't worry though, I won't subject him to part 3.

Other titles that were considered for this entry:

Mercy is for the Weak
Take a Worm for a Walk Week
Man Who Catch Fly With Chopsticks Can Do Anything

Have You Met mark?

In my relentless pursuit of not owing my soul to the company store, I keep looking for different things I can do to sustain my family without being a 9-5 slave for the rest of my life. I started school this semester, with the ultimate goal of being a teacher, and I really would like to be able to go full time instead of taking the next 10 years to finish up. To this end, I have been exploring other options for generating income. I'm currently doing the books part time for a friend of mine with a small business, and after the holidays I plan to do some networking to try and get a couple other similar sized clients. I've also been wracking my brain for other odd job type things that one can do.

Enter mark. mark (no capital M, if you please) is a new line from Avon. It's aimed at a younger crowd (younger than me, really), and it caught my eye. So at lunch time today, I met the Avon lady and officially signed up. I am now your mark Independent Sales Representative, happy to serve your needs.

It doesn't have a large product line like Avon, but what it does have is very cute and girly, and very low priced, too. Exactly the kind of stuff I like to buy, as I loooove to buy new makeup, lotion, jewelry and bathtubby things, which is why I decided that I wasn't too old to sell it (I'm not old, right? RIGHT?)

So this is my sales pitch to those of you in internetland. Which means Carrot, I guess (although Diji, I noticed a delightful shade of lip gloss for you, and Chimpo, the GardenBlu perfume has you written all over it. Kav, I think I see some shimmery face powder looking at you!). If you visit meetmark.com and see anything you like, email me and I will give you my phone # to put in as your rep on the site, so you get nice things from me, and I get a customer.

Oh, and any of you that may be dying for Avon, my ma sells that, just go here.

I Prefer OtterPops

I don't quite know how to preface this, so here, just click.

Isn't That Just Darling?

After our lovely weekend in Reno, we flew back into Phoenix to drop Shmee off, then Robb and I hopped in to our car to drive back home to Tucson. It's about an hour and a half drive, which isn't bad. It's just short enough that right about that point where you are suddenly tired to death of driving, you're just about there.

Robb of course got immediately absorbed in his Gameboy SP, so I was left to my own devices. I sang, I dozed, I had a couple shots. At one point, I looked to my right, and there was an SUV with a little girl frantically waving at me. When she saw she had my attention, she held up a sign that said "Honk for the Kid". I honked, and the whole family erupted in cheers.

It got me thinking, though, about all the things I did to amuse myself as a kid when we used to make that drive a lot. I of course didn't have a gameboy back in the stone ages, so had to make the best of what I had. I couldn't read, because I tend to get motion sick very easy, and even today reading in a car will make me sick almost immediately. I often would take my walkman, and as I love to sing, I would sing along softly (I thought). Of course, it turns out that everybody else along for the ride was smirking and winking at each other and trying not to laugh. I didn't say I was good at singing, just that I loved it. I also used to draw a lot. It seems that cows were a particular passion of mine; I used to draw them quite a bit. Always a side view, with the head turned towards the viewer. Sometimes with a few strands of grass out the side of her mouth, sometimes with horns, and almost always with spots.

But what the little girl with her sign really reminded me of was the time I took a piece of my drawing paper and made a sign that said "PLEASE HELP ME THEY'RE TAKING ME AWAY" and held it up for every car that passed. Finally, my grandmother asked what I was doing. I think my poor Grandad's head almost exploded.

I didn't get to draw anymore on that trip.

Your Roving Correspondent

Here today, coming to you live from Reno, NV where it's green, cool, and lovely.

Shmee, the boy and I are here visiting the folks. They live right underneath Mt. Rose, over which is Lake Tahoe, so yesterday we piled in the car and went for a drive to see the lake. It's absolutely beautiful up there. Shmee took some great pictures that I'll post when I get home. We continued on into the California side and around to Truckee,which is a nice touristy artsy little town right by Donner Pass.

We walked around a bit, and found a sweet shop where you get to watch the guy in the window make fudge. I'm not sure if the guy enjoyed his job, but I'm pretty sure he didn't like doing it in front of an audience. Apparently it's quite hard work. It's all poured onto this big greased metal table, and he had to keep it moving while it sets. He was breathing pretty hard, and I can only hope he wasn't sweating too much into the fudge.

Today, my parents are taking Robb to Circus Circus to win ungodly amounts of stuffed animals, and Eli and I are going to go walking around downtown Reno. I really like it down there, it's very pretty and quaint, and the Truckee River runs right through it. I wouldn't mind living up here at all, in a nice little apartment house overlooking the river.

I'll let you know tomorrow if I move here or get married in the casino.

Colors

No, not the gripping portrait of life as an L.A. cop facing gang wars starring Sean Penn and Robert Duvall; rather, the colors in my blog.

I'm very happy with the new format, I think it's very pretty (shout out to Elementopia). I've gotten the comments page back on and running (although I seem to have lost the option to delete user comments. So someone either please tell me how to get it back, or just don't leave anything I may want to delete.), and I've got the hang of that nifty little menu over there on the left. You can now access my profile again, which I know was a huge concern of everyone's. (Hugo, mira, mis ojos!)

My last major question is regarding color. Chimpo says this pale green that it defaults with is too hard to read. I think it's pretty, but I can see his point.

The other option I think works nicely (and much easier on the eyes) is this brown. My only problem with that is that I have to do it manually, and around any links that I include, or else it screws with the link color and makes them hard to see. It seems there must be an easier way, but I haven't found it. No matter where I put it in the code, it overrides the link colors.

Anyone have any votes?

Also, Kav is now on my list of blogs worth visiting. He is a very amusing man, so pay attention.

Scratch a Salesman, Find a Guy that Makes You Want to Strangle Yourself Slowly

I love my job. I really really do. I don't like working, but as far as jobs go, as long as I have to have one, this is one of the best I've ever had. So I hate to bitch about it too much and ruin my karma, but I thought my boss was going to make me insane today.

This is the first time in many years that I've been doing something besides accounting. When you're in accounting, you sort of do your own little thing. Nobody quite knows what you do, and they are afraid to ask. When you tell them "no", or "this is the rule", they rarely argue. They may not like you, but they know you have some vague, unspoken authority behind what you say. I've always had a supervisor, of course. Almost everyone reports to somebody. But when you're in accounting, your immediate supervisors are often kindred spirits, and as long as you do things right that's about it. Your job description never gets shaken up.

Now of course that gets very boring, which is why I've been a bit of a job hopper the past few years. It's also why I was and am so happy to have found this job. I do different things all the time. Sometimes I'm in the back room in jeans putting together shipments, sometimes I'm helping close a sale, sometimes I'm helping the data entry department decide which customers we can delay just a little bit longer. And always, I'm answering that damn phone. I love almost all of it, and I especially love that just when I get bored, something else comes up (reading this, I'm wondering if some Ritalin wouldn't help?).

But my immediate boss, the one I really truly work for, is Tom the Salesguy. He doesn't keep me supplied with full time work, but he's the one who gets my priority when he needs it. Tom started this company way back when, and sold it to the current owner a couple years ago. He stayed on with us as the VP of Sales, as he knows this product better than anyone, and is the type of guy who never could have been anything but a salesman. Simply put, he's great at what he does. He's super nice too, and his strong resemblance to Kenny Rogers certainly encourages the affinity I feel for him (side note: I found this site that I may have to submit him to). He calls me "Hon", and I imagine that if we were 30 years ago he'd be slapping my ass when I walked by his desk, and calling me "that cute gal down at the office". But still I'm rather fond of him.

Today I had to make hotel reservations for Tom. I spent literally 2 hours of my afternoon on this simple project, and was banging my head on the desk by the time I was done. I found what seemed to be a perfectly nice hotel on Expedia, one of the cheapest around, and it was just down the street from where he needs to be. I had his credit card number already, but when it came time to book the room, Expedia asked for a login. Here's where I made my mistake. Instead of just signing up and taking care of it, I decided to call Tom and ask if he already had an account (thinking that perhaps there was some kind of reward program). When he found out I intended to book him in a Travelodge, he became very unhappy. And besides, he said, he thought that was a pretty pricey rate and that we could do better than that. In downtown New Orleans. Ok. He told me to find something nicer, so I then found a room at the Radisson, fairly close to the event, for about $35 more a night than the first choice.

Too expensive. Find something cheaper, and don't worry about the location, in fact, get it out by the other place he's going to visit that's on the other side of the airport.

At this point, I ditched Expedia and called the Holiday Inn Reservations Center. Would you believe they have 18 hotels in the New Orleans area? My call was taken by a nice young man named Jason who listened to my plight and requirements, and set about finding me a good price at one of their hotels. He even took the addresses of both meeting places, so he could make sure that we got one in the middle. When all was said and done, my new best friend Jason found Tom a room directly between the 2 locations, right by the airport, for $30 cheaper than our first try.

Of course, Tom thinks that's too far from the first meeting.

But, he said just to leave it at that, and it will be nice for getting to the second meeting. After writing all this down and re-reading it, my head exploding rage has subsided, and I'm ok with Tom. It wasn't that many changes I suppose, but it took a huge chunk out of my very busy afternoon, and now I will be in bad shape tomorrow morning. But hey, he said next week when he gets back, he'll teach me some tricks to cheap rooms and cars that he's learned over all his years of travelling.

Oh Tom, what adventure will you send me on next?

You got to know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em,

Know when to walk away and know when to run.

You never count your money when you're sittin' at the table,

There'll be time enough for countin' when the reservation's made.

Crap on a Cracker

Ok, due to overwhelming response as well as my own annoyance with that comment page problem, I bring you this new, girlier blog.

Flowers are pretty.

Episode #8.17 "Carrier"

Law and Order sighting of the day: Michael Pitt, of Hedwig and the Angry Inch (Tommy Gnosis) playing Andy in Law and Order.

At the Gay Bar, Gay Bar!

I have been whining for weeks now about going out. I mean going out, spending ages getting ready, and feeling stylish and chic while I drink my vodka and soda and nonchalantly smoke (which, um, I am no longer doing. Except sometimes. But sometimes isn't often).

Anyway.

Shmee is a very accomodating guy, but due to timing, money, and other factors, we just hadn't been able to get dressed up and have a date night. Finally, though, last Saturday, we found ourselves in Phoenix in an empty apartment (his roommate was out of town) and no previous plans. Unfortunately, the majority of bars up there are filled with Scottsdale Snobs. Scottsdale is a fairly hoity toity area, with all the beautiful Barbie moms and Ken dads that you could ever hope to see, and I just can't stand to be around it. But Phoenix is a good sized city, and I know that every city has it's phreaks, so it shouldn't be that hard to find a decent club, really. We scoured the local rag and the internet, and came up with one that sounded good.

The Winner we selected is called Amsterdam, and it's a gay bar in downtown Phoenix. Shmee is not afraid of catching the gay, but I do understand that maybe a gay bar isn't the most fun place for a straight guy to be. He's a trooper though, and knew I was getting cabin fever, so he dressed up too and escorted me downtown.

It was a great place, absolutely posh and beautiful inside, with great music and beautiful bois everywhere. We managed to snag 2 seats at the bar (mind if I push in your stool?), where we met a very nice man named Richard. Now, I love gay bars, but I guess I've never gone with a straight man before last Saturday night. Many of them will say "I have no problem with gays, but I just wouldn't be comfortable", and I would scoff and say "whatever, that's ridiculous, they're not going to bug you". But within a few minutes of talking to Richard, he started asking my poor guy things like "Do you see yourself as a gay man?", and "What about that guy, you don't think he's hot?". We're a very affectionate couple, almost always holding hands or rubbing backs or something, so it was very obvious we were together, but Richard just would not let up on Eli. Eli was gracious to the end, just laughing and saying "no, sorry, I just guess I don't have the gay gene at all", and finally Richard said goodbye and left. I suppose it's no different from a woman being accosted by an obnoxious drunk man at a bar, but still I was surprised and more than a little taken aback.

Regardless, we had a really great time. I looked pretty and chic, Eli looked dashing, and it was just a lovely night all around. I can't wait to go back there, but I suppose I owe Shmee a night at a strip club now.