A while back I wrote Ten Things: Ten Reasons Dating Sucks.
Because of my mixed feelings about dating vs. remaining single, I now have ten more reasons dating sucks. And because I’m apparently a glutton for punishment.
I’m on the “Single” side right now. Rather wary of the opposite sex at the moment.
MamaSteph, in her article Men… Ugh…, put it better than I ever could have…
I am not at all a stupid person, in fact, I like to think of myself as rather smart, but on occasion I do some very stupid things, most of which involve men. I love men, everything about them, wide shoulders, hairy chests, deep voices, big hands, the way they smell… anyway, where was I? Oh yes, for a relatively smart girl I have made some bad choices in men, bad choices, like if stupidity was a crime I would be a lifer with no parole. If I walk into a room with 100 men the ones who hone in on me first are the most unstable, I will then pick the worst one of them to date, it’s a character flaw.
I feel a kindred spirit to this woman, a complete stranger. But she knows me and I know her. Like her, I, too, am not desperate for a relationship, I am single by choice. However, I would welcome the opportunity to share my life and adventures with the right man. Emphasis on RIGHT.
If you don’t share this story, zombies will get you. (Just . . . → But wait, there’s more! : Ten Things: Ten More Reasons Dating REALLY Sucks
Like a cow pissin’ on a flat rock, it’s raining in Texas.
When they say “Everything is bigger in Texas” they mean the rain.
And the wind and hail stones! Forty m.p.h. winds?? Last. Night. I was scared shitless, y’all. I’m from California – I prefer earthquakes.
This morning when I woke up the weather report said there was a 50% chance of my area being hit by a tornado! A TORNADO WARNING! I was in my first ever official tornado warning. (This was NOT on my bucket list.) They were also predicting a possibility of giant hail for this afternoon, but so far it looks good here.
I don’t do tornadoes or monster balls of hail. I don’t even like regular windy days. Where I lived the last 30 years before getting my RV, hail is considered “cute”. It’s always little and never does any damage. We would run outside to try and catch some before it melted. Seriously. In California hail is “cute”. It’s a novelty.
I’m not used to this super-sized weather stuff.
When I heard about the high winds and hail, I wanted to make a run for it in my RV. I’m bordered on one side by the coast, and the storm on the other. The only way out is to go through the storm. You know, like how lemmings jump off perfectly good cliffs without parachutes.
Ya, that’s me. I’m sure I was a lemming in a former life.
Except for my tendency to panic in such situations, . . . → But wait, there’s more! : Severe Weather Alert: Like a cow pissin on a flat rock.
Calipatria, in southern California, boldly claims to hold such distinctions as possessing the “World’s Tallest Flagpole” and being the “Lowest Down City Below Sea Level in the Western Hemisphere”.
The population is around 7,700. That includes the 4,000 inmates at the Calipatria State Prison. If you’re as good at math as I am, you’ve already figured out more than half the population consists of incarcerated criminals.
I only take you guys to the best places.
While the library is the size of some apartments I’ve lived in, it still has several internet access stations.
As I walked toward the intersection, a young gal was leading her cow across the street. Yup, she was out walking her cow. On a leash.
Calipatria is known locally as “CowPat” because of all the cows, and more to the point, because of their numerous patties, the pungent scent from which is often blown all the way to Slab City, a beefy 12 miles away.
Calipatria, California: Lowest Down City and World's Tallest Flagpole – according to the local government. Who just may have escaped from the local prison.
At 184 feet below sea level,
If you don’t share this story, zombies will get you. (Just a . . . → But wait, there’s more! : I got down, way down, in Calipatria.
When I escaped (and we won’t go into how, but we’ll just say he let me go), I went to the Salton Sea Beach. And then I walked on the millions of dead fish that cover the shore. Lemme esplain… (and you might not want to look at the pictures or go any farther if you’re eating lunch.) Ok, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. The Salton Sea Beach is on the eastern side of the Salton Sea in southern California. It’s a wonderful park and campground full of amenities. And the birdwatching is terrific. . . . → But wait, there’s more! : I was eaten by a giant dinosaur, and then I found millions of Zombie Fish.
The scene: An empty two-lane highway at 8:30 pm on a Wednesday night.
My car: The nice tow car previously pictured, carrying two blond-haired white people (me and the aforementioned house guest) slowly driving back to their campsite in Slab City after a day at the nearby RV park pool, hanging with sober people. (The sober part will be of significance further in the story.)
Behind us: A car is tailgating. For almost 15 minutes.
They could easily go around us on the empty highway.
A couple extra white lights come on over their roof. Then the side spotlight as seen on cop cars comes out. Within seconds a red light comes on, so I pull over.
Two dimwitted Border Patrol agents creep up on the right side, stop about ten feet away, and peer towards the interior of the car, fear and suspicion on their face.
If you don’t share this story, zombies will get you. (Just a . . . → But wait, there’s more! : Border Patrol = Reno 911
I don’t even know where to start. Really, I don’t. That’s partly why this post is so late in coming.
Many RVers know about Slab City, some like it, some don’t, but everyone said, ‘You have to experience it at least once.’
I asked, ‘Why? What’s the attraction?’ No one could really say why, they just said it was ‘different’.
My readers and fellow travelers have led me to some of the most interesting places so when they say I have to go somewhere, I usually go.
Plus, Me = Different.
While Slab City looks similar in some ways to scenes straight out of the Mad Max movies, it is unlike anything I’ve ever seen or experienced. I now understand why no one could muster an answer when I asked why I should go.
Rather than attempt a lengthy description, I’ll do a series of bullet-point descriptions occasionally accompanied by photos and a video. It’s that “A picture is worth a thousand words” thing. Plus, it’s easier because I’m swamped trying to get a new dinghy tow vehicle so I can get out of Dodge A.S.A.P.
For more detail about Slab City, read my two previous articles: one about the death in the hot springs, and one for Yahoo! News.
Slab City, Calif., A World Like No Other
If you don’t share this story, zombies will get you. (Just a . . . → But wait, there’s more! : Slab City is, umm, different. Very different. Kind of like me. Sort of.
Everyone told me “There’s a naked man in Quartzsite, Arizona. You’ve got to go there.”
Well, duh! Of course I do.
My friends, and folks I meet on my travels, give me some of the best tips. I love you people!
They were right, as usual; he was naked except for a hat, a necklace, and a small crocheted “sock” over his privates. (‘small’ is not a comment on the size of anything other than the sock)
I think there is a little satin bow on it, but I couldn’t look that closely without being accused of staring.
No, NO. On the sock.
Sheesh, I really have conditioned you all to go to the dark side first, haven’t I?
No, not his beard. (TMI? Sorry.)
The “sock” was held up by fishing line.
Nothing covered his back side.
If you don’t share this story, zombies will get you. (Just a . . . → But wait, there’s more! : I met a naked man in Quartzsite, Arizona.
I found Mollie’s Nipple on the way to Purgatory. I can only assume Mollie is walking around with one nipple.
“Mollie’s Nipple” in Hurricane, UT. I have no idea where the other one is. I hope Mollie still has it.
It’s a butte named “Mollie’s Nipple”. Makes you wonder if Mollie was a popular saloon gal back in the day. Or if she lost one in a bar fight.
Have you ever see a 100 year-old fruitcake? No, no, I’m not talking about an old gay guy. Geez, people. I mean an actual fruitcake. Found via RoadsideAmerica.com at the Hurricane Valley Heritage Museum, it was originally a four-layer wedding cake. Not sure when they ate the two missing layers, but unless they ate them with a hammer and chisel, it wasn’t anytime in the recent past.
If you don’t share this story, zombies will get you. (Just a . . . → But wait, there’s more! : Mollie Lost Her Nipple In Purgatory But I Found It
Ahh, what a lovely day. (UPDATED: This should say “week”.)
Ok, I’m lying. Totally fucking lying. (I apologize for the cussing, but sometimes only a cuss word will do. There are more, just so you know. I probably have that cussing disease today, you may want to leave now.)
You all know about the Droid X issue, which may, or may not be resolved. Some ex-boyfriends responded to the age-old texts as if nothing had changed and the conversation – and relationship – hadn’t ended LONG ago.
One ex asked, “So how you sleeping?” Much better without you’re nasty a$$ taking up the bed.
Learn from my mistake my dear Kernutties: Clear your text cache. Seriously. Do it now. I’ll wait.
And some of you know about the persistent MF who keeps trying to hack my blog. Seriously? WTF?! At this point, his persistence (12 attempts that I know of, plus three lock-outs) causes me to think it’s personal. There are two people whom I think sociopathically capable of this. I’m working on a post that includes one of them, and is about the time Martin Sheen saved my life. (Not a joke.)
The new job? Sucks balls. Well, some of it sucks balls. Big fuckin’ hairy balls. (The actual marketing parts of the job are great fun.)
If you don’t share this story, zombies will get you. (Just a . . . → But wait, there’s more! : God Grant Me The Senility
The oddness that was my week:
I work in a large office building with the standard Men’s and Women’s community bathrooms on each floor.
Men’s, and Women’s. Two bathrooms. One for each sex.
The other morning I grabbed the key and crossed the hallway to the Women’s room. Just as I got there a man (I think he was Mennonite), held the door for me as he exited.
He said, ‘It’s ok, my wife is just doing her hair.’
With trepidation and a nervous smile, I enter to find two Mennonite women in the restroom: his wife fixing her hair, and her attendant.
And no more men, thank goodness.
When I posted this on FB, most of my friends commented how they wanted an attendant. Umm sure, I want one, too. But can we not have men in the Women’s bathroom?
I’ve wanted a Droid phone for a while, and Friday I finally got one! Yippee!! I activated it, added two apps, and then tried to back up my numbers.
The screen DIED.
Not the battery (still had 80% power) – the SCREEN. I’d had it for ONE HOUR.
Ok, obviously I got a lemon, time to go trade it in for a good one. My Friday night: I drive down to the Verizon store, and (another) hour and a half later walked out with a second brand new Droid X. (BTW – these were not refurbished “pre-owned” phones.)
IT CAME WITH A VIRUS INSTALLED.
Oh, that’s NOT the . . . → But wait, there’s more! : Witness Protection Program Inductee