Hi, remember me? I’m that gal who used to blog here. Yeah, yeah, so I’m flaky when feeling overwhelmed. But I make up for it with my vivacious personality. Heh.
Another leap of faith was in my near future, and this time I was afraid to jump. Yes, I gave up my stick-and-brick (read “apartment in-between the city and the suburbs”) – before getting my RV – and that leap of faith felt more comfortable than this one. I was super excited about it, but I was also nervous about temporarily relocating to the panhandle from the start – something about it never felt right. My friends and fellow workcampers knew all the details and none of them thought it was a good idea, either. But I really wanted this to work – it would mean I could travel all the time!
It was for that commission-only sales job for which I’d get to travel all the time. This is the same job I already tried it out in two neighboring towns… the one that didn’t sell (100% commission = no pay if there are no sales), but I got to meet some of the rudest people in Texas. Oh joy.
This time the owner was willing to pay for me to go up there and provide $200/wk as a base for the first two weeks. After my last experience of working for a week and a half without making one sale, I decided it was too risky to try it again that far away from civilization. I already burned up resources when I tried it the first time and couldn’t risk it happening again.
The funny thing is I was all set to go, but was nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs But, wait! There’s more…
Last we left off, my coworker “Spiderman” found someone to whom he could pimp his spider out for a long weekend in Dallas, was requesting transportation to Dallas for his horny male spider.
You new folks may still not realize I do not make this stuff up. Hang around a while and you’ll see little corners of the world you did not know, or perhaps ever wanted to know, existed. You’re welcome.I consider this a service in line with Public Service Announcements.
Back to the pimpin out of one of Spiderman’s numerous (30+ and growing) spiders.
We may rejoice! The spider is getting laid. The ride for the horny spider to spend a long weekend with a female of the same species has finally taken place.
As I mentioned in a previous post, Spiderman was quickly able to find a nearby mate for his spider through Facebook. Facebook is the place to hook your spider up for a weekend away with other spiders.
Mark Zuckerberg must be proud. When he helped create Facebook, he was probably thinking it would be a great arena for humans to hook up. Little did he know…
Fear not, my dear Kernutties, fans of Breaking Bad, Walter White is alive and well and living in Texas… posing as my boss.
But before we get to that, let’s recap what the new job has been like over the last few months:
In my first couple weeks there, I was quarantined with Roscoe the Racoon. (The update to that post is here.)
Also living in the office was a giant (pet) katydid, Cletus. In addition, one coworker, Spiderman, has over 30 pet spiders, six pet snakes, centipedes, lizards, gekkos, and probably a bunch of other stuff it’s better I not know about.
For those of you following the Spider Prostitution ring, as of a couple weeks ago the spider had not yet been pimped out for the hot weekend in Dallas, nor the trip to New Mexico. (I have no idea what the delay might be, but I’m starting to feel sorry for the little guy. He just wants some lovin’.) I will keep you posted should he get laid.
This is another episode of Tales From the RV Park, stories from the RV parks where I’ve camped. 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.
It’s a shame you can’t buy common sense like you can buy deodorant.
It’s too soon for any wild tales from the new RV park, but not from the new job…
I arrive at the new job this morning, where I’m doing marketing, editing, and office administration for an oilfield services company at which I’ve worked only a couple weeks, and see this notice posted on the door:
It might as well say, “Rabies inside your new office.”
It says: ATTENTION: Do not let Rozko (“Roscoe”) out of office. He must be quarantined for 10 DAYS! If he shows signs or dies, I have rabies. Open door carefully in case he is loose! (signed by the boss)
It might as well say, “Rabies inside your new office, but don’t worry about it – you can keep working.”
I thought to myself, “The guys are joking with me, this can’t be serious.” Then I noticed the office dog, a sweet black lab (“Sadie”) is also outside of the office with me. She’s rarely outside alone.
Ok, maybe that’s only one reason I’m not “all here”.
Me and my ride.
*shameless self-promotion alert*
In between working, sightseeing, and writing for this blog I write a little travel series for Yahoo! called “Strange RV Encounters”. It’s a bit hard to believe they let me write for them, isn’t it? Yeah, for me too.
Some of my long-time readers may recognize a few of the destinations, but I’ve had to write the articles a little differently. Unlike this goofy, poorly worded blog, Yahoo! is a proper, mainstream website — they prefer I keep my articles professional. In order to amuse myself, I sneak in a little phrase or word when I can, just to see if I can get it published.
I used the word “poop” in an article, and it’s published. Out there, on the web, on a proper and popular mega-website. But, wait! There’s more…
It’s in town because I made the Squirrel Circus here.No, this isn’t another story about that ex-boyfriend who went off to join the circus. You’re welcome.
This post really is about squirrels I got to jump through hoops, sort of. It’s more like running through tubes and boxes than jumping through hoops, but close enough.
At the state park I’m camped at, my volunteer job (in exchange for free RV parking) is to sell permits, help customers, stock shelves, tidy up the place, etc. In the downtime I started building a Squirrel Obstacle Course.
When Park Officials come to check how the park is doing, I tell them it’s our Squirrel Enrichment Program. One asked if I had a degree in Animal Psychology.
The squirrel acrobats are: PeeWee (a tame-ish female, currently pregnant again, and mother of at least one of the following squirrels), Jr. (aka “Hangin'” <— ahe name the Rangers gave him), Rocky (a male, very skittish), and Cinnamon (a female, also very skittish).
The Squirrel Obstacle Course/Habitrail is perched on a picnic table, right in front of the office entrance. You can’t miss it when you walk in.
The Squirrel Obstacle Course in an early phase. That’s a squirrel in the cantilevered tube on the right.
As you can see it’s made from used drink bottles and cardboard boxes. And a LOT of tape.
Nevertheless, people that don’t read this blog asked me to play a normal person (well, they called it “playing myself”, but I know what they meant) in a television commercial.
Holy Famosity Batman! It’s true my dear Kernutties, I’m going to be on TV!
And not on an episode of COPS.
I can hardly believe it myself.
Playing “myself”, the first customer at their new store, I recently filmed a 60-second commercial spot for the dealership where I bought my RV. (I really was the first customer at their new location.) The commercial spot is online now at Best of the Bay and will air in September on KRON or ION (September 18 at 10:30 am?). Follow the link to see how much I need a facelift. There are several spots on the website, I’m in the first and last, maybe others.
When we left off in part 2, Martin Sheen and I were parked with driver’s-side windows together, our cars blocking the small neighborhood street. Meanwhile, the stalker in the white pickup was slowly coming up behind my car, most likely realizing I’d just obtained A-list mother-fucking help.
Oh, …and we learned that I’m as bright as a cliff-jumping lemming when panicked.
As the white pickup approaches our cars, he pulls over to the side of the road as – if waiting for me to finish my conversation – so he can then continue on with terrorizing me.
Martin says to me, “Turn your car around and pull up behind me. I got through to the Sheriff’s office and they’re going to meet us at the old Malibu station.” He said ‘US’ !!! 🙂 Yay Martin!
(It’s important to note two things here: A, The police agreed to come out for Martin Sheen – not when it was just little old, not-famous me calling, but for Martin. And B, The lazy cops still only agreed to meet us so far – at a station closed years before, in an empty parking lot about 15 minutes away from where we were now.)
I do as Martin says, and the stalker also starts to maneuver his car as if readying to make a u-turn like I did.
But then Martin Sheen, A-list megastar and rescuer of blond-haired lemmings, starts yelling at the stalker!!