This is another episode ofTales From the RV Park, life in the RV parks I’ve been camped at. Disclaimer: These stories are fictitious, happened in nightmares, are hearsay, and/or are what others recounted to me. I am part Irish, so there is likely a good deal of exaggeration. The names have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent. There is no relation to persons living, dead, or in jail, even if you think so. In other words, don’t bother trying to sue me, and I have no money.
It’s a shame you can’t buy common sense like you can buy deodorant.
Remember Tush? She’s a tad on the friendly side – if you’re a man. If you’re a woman, she’s jealous and insecure, and has been known to threaten women who she thinks “looked” at Hatin’ – not that anyone in their right mind would.
Tush and Hatin’ fight all the time, and that’s what makes the following story all the more curious…
Another one of those anniversaries of my birthday is approaching. I’ve celebrated a few anniversaries of my 27th birthday, and even anniversaries of my 29th, but that may have to change.
Old house in Texas. I love photographing old, abandoned barns and houses.
I don’t feel (or generally act) my age and I prefer it that way. Life is what you make it, and I’m making mine young and fun as long as I can. In fact, after interviewing the centenarian a couple months ago and seeing the high percentage of centenarians in this area, I realize I may very well still be in my youthful “prime,” relatively speaking.
Well, this post is loooong overdue. (Yes, the extra vowels help. I don’t know why, they just do.) Be prepared for the possibility of more long overdue posts – I’ve got a new gig working as an editor/reporter at a local newspaper.
This car is made of spoons, forks, and other pieces of scrap metal.
Scrap Art Cars in Beeville, Texas
Beeville is a cute town, just on the edge of the Eagle Ford Shale (the big area of land running diagonally across the middle of south central Texas where most of the oil and gas come from). There was a fantastic art car and scrap metal exhibit at the Beeville Art Museum almost a year ago (that there is the long overdue part). The exhibit was one of the better museum displays I’ve seen, and this was in a small town with a population of about 13,000.
The artist, Mark “Scrap Daddy” Bradford, makes cars out of gazillions of shiny spoons and forks, or random metal scraps. He’s talented, artistic and a tad quirky. Not to mention he’s rather easy on the eyes.
And he lives in Texas, somewhere hear Houston, a few hours from my current location. I’d like to meet this man.
This is another episode of Tales From the RV Park, life in the RV parks I’ve been camped at. Disclaimer: These stories are fictitious, happened in nightmares, are hearsay, and/or are what others recounted to me. I am part Irish, so there is likely a good deal of exaggeration. The names have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent. There is no relation to persons living, dead, or in jail, even if you think so. In other words, don’t bother trying to sue me, and I have no money.
It’s a shame you can’t buy common sense like you can buy deodorant.
Southern Fried Hatin’ and Trailer Park Tush
There was a long-time tenant, a guy from the deep south. I never saw him without a drink in his hand. He was a nice guy, if you could overlook the blatant racism and sexism, which was hard to do. He never once held back a negative comment about a woman, or a non-white male – even if one was standing right in front of him. If you weren’t white and male, he would likely insult you within five minutes of talking to him. It’s a wonder he never got into a fist fight in all the time he lived at the park.
Before I get to the self-stroking RV stuff I fixed, I want to talk about something sort of important, for once…
My Yahoo! editor has fallen off the face of the earth which means I’ve been able to write more on this blog. Lucky you! (No contact in about a month now, and I’ve submitted a great story idea and an article in that time, along with a few reminder emails.Whatever.) So in between writing the next episode of Tales From the RV Park, I checked my blog stats on Google Feedburner and noticed I lost about 20% of my subscribers within the four days after this post: Online Dating: Oh my. Well, this explains a lot. The post may or may not explain a lot about online dating, but I can’t figure out why I lost so many subscribers. I thought the post about the hunter-gather principle would’ve been the one to turn folks off. Or, far more likely, this post,this post, or this post. Was it something I said?
I don’t try to offend anyone on this blog, but I realize it happens. Heck, I do it in my face-to-face life, too… I suffer from “Foot In Mouth” disease all the time. It’s probably that missing filter thing I mentioned in my About page.
Since I brought up the online dating, some of you may be wondering about what’s going on with the Online Dating Chronicles. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Nada. Ziltch. Zero. Concerned I might say something “sans filter” – like I do on this blog - I have been extra cautious when writing back to the few men who’ve sent me a normal email. The conversations always seem to go quite well… and then nothing. They just stop replying, or send one random sentence in reply to our regular email exchange – a sentence that contains no question in which to reply. And, no asking to meet or to talk on the phone.
I do live about an hour and a half (or more) from the ones writing. Maybe that has something to do with it – in the end they just don’t want to bother with the distance. I don’t know, that’s just a guess. Maybe I’m offending the crap out of them, too.
So,I’m done with the online dating thing. The endless emailing that goes nowhere has taken its toll on my level of interest.
Which means I will continue offending and/or boring the crap out of the few of you dear readers I have left…
Self-Stroking Post RV Stuff I Fixed All By Myself
There is a dichotomy to the RV lifestyle: A lot of stuff needs fixing or regular maintenance, which sucks. But when you fix it all by yourself, it’s an awesome moment of pure pleasure. SPOILER ALERT: If you can tell someone about it and they make all the appropriate facial expressions and comments, the moment of awesome lasts even longer.
Maybe it’s just me, but I get a real thrill out of fixing some, often random, item on my RV. Is that feeling why men love fixing stuff?
*light bulb goes on above my head*
Ohhhh, I totally get it, guys. It makes me want to get frisky, too.
I will now tell you about Stuff I Fixed All By Myself because you are a captive audience that’s really nice to me.
Well, it’s this or you could go back to the work you’re avoiding. Ok, we’ll compromise – I’ll keep it short, kind of. To help with keeping it kind of short, just know the links below are all to previous posts so long-time readers can skip those. Everyone new has to read them. Why? Um, you might learn something. Yeah, that’s it.
Now that we’ve got that settled, I shall commence with the list of Stuff I Fixed All By Myself:
Tales From the RV Park is now a sporadically posted series. Yes, “sporadically posted” just like “Ten Things Tuesday” is a sporadically posted series when I remember it. Do you realize how hard it is to come up with ten related things for a post?
In the past, I’ve posted several stories about the goings-on at RV parks where I’ve camped. These stories are now grouped into the “Tales From the RV Park” category. Those are listed below, as well as an update on attention-getting Butt-Crack (aka “BC”), and a new resident nicknamed Studly. Someday, I plan to turn “Tales From the RV Park” into an e-book of the same title.
Disclaimer: These stories are fictitious, happened in nightmares, are hearsay, and/or are what others recounted to me. I am part Irish, so there is likely a good deal of exaggeration. The names have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent. There is no relation to persons living, dead, or in jail, even if you think so. In other words, don’t bother trying to sue me, and I have no money.
Some stories you may remember:
“Don’t make me get my gun out. Again” There is a slight problem with living and working at the same place. I learned that the hard way during my first workcamping gig in an RV park. Now I’m VERY cautious about mentioning the name or location of the park where I’m camped or workcamping. Thanks, No Boundaries Dude.
“In Loving Memory of Checkers…” is a tribute to my first co-pilot, and about the kindness of rangers, one who built a beautiful box for Checkers to be buried in, and the other who let me bury her in the park.
Editor’s note: I wrote this a long while ago (two years??), but just now found it in my files. If some references seem old, that’s why. I’m still quite surprised I forgot a whole, almost finished post. God only knows what other things I’ve forgotten.
This is probably what happened when I forgot the post.
For “Ten Things Tuesday” (on a day that probably isn’t Tuesday), I present Ten InformativeUseless Random Things About Me:
1. I can’t find my way out of a paper bag, even with GPS. It’s true. Why I thought I could travel the country with maps and GPS and not get lost is beyond me.
2. I forget where I parked my car every time I go into the grocery or department store. Every. Time. If I remember to make a conscious effort to mentally note where I parked before going inside, I can usually exit the store, stand there for a minute while I recall the mental note, and then locate my car – without pushing a shopping cart all over the parking lot for ten minutes before finding it by accident. Not that that has ever happened.
3. I’ve never camped before buying my RV. Unless you count that one time with Chickenbone in our grandparent’s backyard. We were 11 and 9. I had fun (because food and a bathroom were nearby, obviously). But that night we found out my sister is “tasty”: If there is a flea within 100 miles it will find Chickenbone and bite her. She must give off a scent. She woke up with approximately 200 flea bites. I had three. One, two, three bites. I’m not tasty. (Zombies, take note – I’m not tasty.)
Got issues with your Norcold refrigerator? You’re not alone!
(Norcold is a brand of refrigerator in many RVs. Feel free to skip this post and go to the next one if you don’t have an RV or aren’t interested in all the crap you have to fix if you own one.)
A portion of the glacier of ice that once occupied my freezer. It’s about two inches thick here, but started as three inches in the center. Yeah, yeah, so I let it go for a while – what of it?
My Norcold fridge doesn’t do well in high heat, the current temperature in south central Texas. I’m hoping you have better solutions than what I’ve tried. Besides, I’m losing interest in the Online Dating Chronicles. Not even the “30 Boyfriend Rules” profile written by two little girls got a response. Perhaps potential candidates suspected my snarkiness in posting it in place of my original profile.
Issue #1: The back of the freezer has accumulated a glacier’s worth of ice.
I suspect the extra weight negatively effects my gas mileage. Global warming is not effecting my RV fridge. If there is such a thing as Global Warming, the world is welcome to use my fridge to help combat it.
I tried to thaw it, only to have my hairdryer die after about two minutes. WTF??? The hairdryer still works, but seems to over heat and shut down when trying to thaw the fridge. It wasn’t making a dent in the glacier anyway.
Next, I chipped at the wall of ice with a knife for another thirty minutes, switching arms, back and forth, as each arm tired out. Thirty minutes and two aching arms later, I had made such little progress it was depressing.
Issue #2: The small drip tray in the top, back of the regular cold area of the fridge freezes over and won’t drain.
This post is brought to you by the internet. Yes, that means I’m phoning it in. Why? Because two little girls wrote a better dating profile than I did. I should stick to blogging, and collecting cats.
Now I know what I’ve been doing wrong with this online dating thing — besides doing it at all. Two little girls, ages six and nine — YES, 6 and 9, — have summed up in 30 bullet points what I tried to do with several pages of (probably useless because most men aren’t reading it) text.
It’s funny, scary accurate, and insightful: “#4 not living with Parents”.Whoa. I sure could’ve used that line inthe past.
Go read it, I’ll wait.
And there you have it. These two girls have written a better profile that I did. I just might make it my new one, if I decide to carry on. However, I’ll change #10 to say “must like cats, and RV travel”, and #22 to “must love quirky blondes”.
UPDATE: I replaced my profile text with their 30 Boyfriend Rules, with only a few minor changes as noted above. We’ll see what happens!
You all are funny, and patient, and kind – and you are the reason I continue to slog through the junk in my online dating inbox. Your comments give me hope and encouragement there just might be a good guy among all the frogs in the online dating arena, and in the real world.
I thought you might enjoy reading a couple more of the less-than-stellar emails I got. These guys did not make it past what you see here, but the interaction makes for decent blog fodder – and as a warning to anyone considering dating again.
First up: Really hot service man, probable gym rat, 47 years old. Profile says he lives in Michigan. Bummer. (He’ll get a name in a few minutes; you’ll see why.)
Do a stranger a awesome favor please, would you take a moment to read my profile just as I’ve done here briefly yo yours beautiful
I’d like a opportunity to engage in one another’s meaningful and intellectually conversation and it be our basis of a refreshing friendship that may someday mature into a great friendship
A relationship that brought out the playfulness and amazingly smiles that truly emulates a great time
I’m the man that wishies to know you on a intellectual level now that you grabbed a whole of my attention and thoughts
May I someday compliment you by naturally generating a smile because not of the occasional and repeated holidays ie Valentine’s day approaching but because of the day’s in between
(Very American Name)
Have a peaceful nights rest tonight
Ok, at first pass, this seems like a really sweet letter, albeit riddled with poor English and grammar (not that I should talk). BUT, something about the treacly prose doesn’t ring true with me — it feels too contrived, too… something fake.