And yes, in the play neighborhood my friend and I always built on his gravel side drive, we ALWAYS had a Russian pimp, which was pretty radical given that it was the 1970s and we were six.
The third wheel is the giveaway, that's the status indicator. I'm assuming. There is nothing else in this photo that conveys money or status. By American standards.
-Depressing flat drippy gray locale, apparently a parking lot. -Locale features power lines, unkempt landscaping and prison-like metal fencing. -Too short fur coat. -Fur coat on a dude. -Fur coat of many colors. -Dude looking like a chauffeur. -Fucked up jacked up car of likely Detroitian origin. -Hey, is that Kid Rock's estranged brother-in-law car salesman?
Today I passed a young woman on the freeway who was driving a small sedan with a full set of moose antlers attached to the roof. They were mounted upright as on the animal. She wasn't just transporting them - they were mounted there, so she was sending a message. I couldn't translate the message.
Notice how the windshield was removed to enhance access after the spare wheels blocked the doors closed?
I hadn't. In fact, it looks like all the glass has been removed. All of a sudden I'm thinking this should be featured on a Top Gear episode, maybe another one where they try to create amphibious cars.
Icepick, I've seen more than one dog with chains or ropes like that embedded deep in their neck, often with the skin growing over them, a bloody mess of maggots and stench. Some people, who shall remain nameless, have been known to steal a dog in that condition to save it.
The first dog I ever saved was a Neapolitan Mastiff like that. The sweetest 130 lbs you could imagine, with a chain embedded in her neck. Now, she lives with some rich Hollywood people, and spends her summers on an island in Sweden. There is always hope for us all.
Yeah, if you take away the fur coat and turn the jacked up car into a lifted truck covered with mud and accessorized with a gun rack instead of a third wheel that's the neighborhood where I grew up. The great mysterious interior. So far off the radar I doubt we even got flown over.
Rabel, I think I paid that phone sex operator 4 bucks an hour to talk to me one night. I thought her voice was a little low, but I was imagining Lauren Bacall. I feel a little nauseous now.
Geeze Rabel, you could at least have put a warning on that link. Now I need eye bleach. I think I'll go look at some cute dogs and cats on the internet.
BTW: just got back from taking the stray cat that adopted us about 5 months ago, to the vet. He had an abscess forming on his ear, from a fight with another cat I suppose. I was not sure I should lance it myself since it is such a thin area, the ear, and was afraid he would end up with a punk rock hole in his ear and him with NO earrings :-) No problem. He was a prince at the vet since it meant getting petted a bunch by the vet and me. Purring like a chainsaw. Didn't care much for the thermometer though. Just some minor lancing, anti bodies and hydrogen peroxide.
On the way out I set him on the bench while I paid. He wanted to escape from the pet carrier and was hurling himself at the wire door and rocking the carrier from side to side. The people in the waiting room were watching. You would think that Zul the demon from hell was trying to get out. Then he lets out a little plaintive 'meow'. They all go...."That's a CAT?!?!?"
Yup. He weighs 18 pounds and is from tip of nose to end of tail 36 inches, at least. He loves to sit on your lap and be petted.
April, Does that award come with any swag? I can't make it to the ceremony, but I will send a lesbian handicapped Native American with Tourretts to read my acceptance speech. In short, I'm honored to accept your award, and save the whales ... or something.
I rescued a cat from a homeless man once. The guy couldn't keep it so I took it. The poor cat had ear mites and bad teeth. I spent a lot of money getting this cat healthy enough to adopt. Kept him for 6 months. Eventually I did find him a home. When I rescued the cat it was just a fluke. I was in Denver driving home stopped at a red light. The same homeless man who I see all the time at this particular corner was there with a pet carrier. hmmmmm that's new? He caught my eye and pointed down at the carrier. I rolled down my window and I asked him "what have you got in there." He said "I have a cat and I can't keep it." Oh crap. He found the right person. He could have had a Tasmanian devil in there and I would have taken it.
LOL. I don't need any more homeless men. One is enough. I've since adopted Ben, the homeless man. I buy him lunch on occasion. We chat when the light is red. He always asks about "Buddy". He misses his Buddy. Ben has diabetes, only a few teeth, and a nasty cigarette addiction. I gave him a few bucks once, but stopped that. Now I just bring him sugar free food. Actually I think it would be a great idea for a charity up-start. Adopt a homeless person. Just one.
@darcy: the ground rules would have to be that you chanced into the bar by accident. It could just be a weird bar. It can't be about a favorite that turned sour or vice versa.
Where am I? Who am I? These are all normal questions here at Lems.
[This has nothing to do with my future blog post which I would limit to real bars versus "virtual bars"]
I will never forget the time that Freeman Hunt stumbled into Trooper's (before it became speakeasy requiring a password). She was looking (I think) for news/rumors on the budding Meade/Althouse romance (this being early 2009)
"Who am I and why am I here?" she wrote. I think Ruth Anne replied something about James Stockdale. I always liked Freeman and thought she was straight shooter. Same with Ruth Anne who is never around. I miss them.
April, that's a wonderful thing, adopting one homeless guy! If only more people were as giving as you are. Fixing broken people, one at a time. Miracles would happen, for both fixer and fixee. Everyone is broken in some way, visible or otherwise.
@ Haz Sadly, I'm not really fixing him. I'm aiding him at the farthest of margins. I wanted to get him into Step 13, but he refuses to work. He bristles at the mere mention of the word "work".
@ Pollo (You'll always be Pollo to me) I don't recall Ruth Ann - maybe the name rings a bell? I imagine Freeman is busy raising her children in the very best of children raising ways.
I think work can be sneaked on people, even clever people suspicious of having work sneaked upon them.
If there is a trace of desire for association.
Forgive me, I'm thinking this up right now, pulling it out of my... well you know, expressing what I think of it spontaneously.
You associate with them, your broken bird as it were. Do things together. Occasionally even productive things. Do regular somewhat productive things together, develop a pattern, habitualized (<--underlined in red), ritualized, regularized and then, surprise, paid. Bonk. Paid for doing a regular thing. Bonk bonk bonk, Dude, you're not actually working at a job, we don't want that, few of the regular demands and responsibilities that are so unbearable, but still (whispers) rather somewhat steadily productive nonetheless, and paid on a reliable basis to boot.
The thing about addicts is they get addicted to things more easily than most like habits. Even lame little non-job like habits that are productive, valued and paid. It's rewarding, getting payment just for doing a regular thing.
You notice how often they'll find clever ways and expend a lot of energy to avoid work. Such as recycling.
My attitude about this arises from my own avoidance of being paid for doing any type of regular thing.
It's hard.
You show your mad skills at catering somebody's party and all of a sudden people are angling to get you do that for reals.
You interpret for a few blokes and all of sudden you're being corralled into doing that to the point of having W2 forms.
Modeling, Jesus Christo, what a lot of energy doing a regular thing.
Painting. Art or interiors. Show you can do that and suddenly everyone want stuff painted and willing to pay for it.
With my brother it's mechanics and plumbing and electrics. Useful skills, if he's not careful he ends up being called up to do that for work. All day.
If there is honestly no desire for association then I'd say you're uckedfay.
"Modeling, Jesus Christo, what a lot of energy doing a regular thing."
Tell me about it.
Your post reminds me of an old Humor in Uniform from Readers' Digest, about a soldier in an office complaining to his boss about being assigned all the hard jobs. The NCO replies, 'you're the laziest guy in the office, so you find the most efficient way to do things.'
Chip - I understand what you are saying. The trouble with Ben is that I actually thin he takes delight sitting on his bucket with his happy sign taking money from strangers. That is his work. His job.
60 comments:
LOL!
Looks like one of my old HotWheels, except for the middle set of wheels.
And yes, in the play neighborhood my friend and I always built on his gravel side drive, we ALWAYS had a Russian pimp, which was pretty radical given that it was the 1970s and we were six.
Notice how the windshield was removed to enhance access after the spare wheels blocked the doors closed?
Mite e fine enjineering.
The third wheel is the giveaway, that's the status indicator.
I'm assuming.
There is nothing else in this photo that conveys money or status. By American standards.
-Depressing flat drippy gray locale, apparently a parking lot.
-Locale features power lines, unkempt landscaping and prison-like metal fencing.
-Too short fur coat.
-Fur coat on a dude.
-Fur coat of many colors.
-Dude looking like a chauffeur.
-Fucked up jacked up car of likely Detroitian origin.
-Hey, is that Kid Rock's estranged brother-in-law car salesman?
Speaking of bars. I think that THIS is probably the coolest mobile bar for a catering event ever.
another view
Today I passed a young woman on the freeway who was driving a small sedan with a full set of moose antlers attached to the roof. They were mounted upright as on the animal. She wasn't just transporting them - they were mounted there, so she was sending a message. I couldn't translate the message.
Locale features power lines, unkempt landscaping and prison-like metal fencing.
Dude, you're describing my whole neighborhood.
...
Hey Bagoh, what do you think of leashing a dog in this manner?
I mean, can you decipher the message?
Notice how the windshield was removed to enhance access after the spare wheels blocked the doors closed?
I hadn't. In fact, it looks like all the glass has been removed. All of a sudden I'm thinking this should be featured on a Top Gear episode, maybe another one where they try to create amphibious cars.
TGIF.
That was Natasha Fatale's car. If you look closely you will see a squirrel tail hanging from the car antenna.
So much for stupid Moose and Squirrel.
This is Russia? I coulda swore it was the outskirts of Buffalo.
And seriously, didn't Leonid Brezhnev usually look like the Tsar of all pimps?
Icepick, I've seen more than one dog with chains or ropes like that embedded deep in their neck, often with the skin growing over them, a bloody mess of maggots and stench. Some people, who shall remain nameless, have been known to steal a dog in that condition to save it.
The first dog I ever saved was a Neapolitan Mastiff like that. The sweetest 130 lbs you could imagine, with a chain embedded in her neck. Now, she lives with some rich Hollywood people, and spends her summers on an island in Sweden. There is always hope for us all.
For Icepick
"Dude, you're describing my whole neighborhood."
Yeah, if you take away the fur coat and turn the jacked up car into a lifted truck covered with mud and accessorized with a gun rack instead of a third wheel that's the neighborhood where I grew up. The great mysterious interior. So far off the radar I doubt we even got flown over.
Thank you, nameless person, for rescuing maltreated dogs.
!!!! Give a person some warning next time, Rabel!
Rabel, I think I paid that phone sex operator 4 bucks an hour to talk to me one night. I thought her voice was a little low, but I was imagining Lauren Bacall. I feel a little nauseous now.
we got served by Crack ;)
If a guy with Brezhnev eyebrows told me to do something, I'd do it.
Geeze Rabel, you could at least have put a warning on that link. Now I need eye bleach. I think I'll go look at some cute dogs and cats on the internet.
BTW: just got back from taking the stray cat that adopted us about 5 months ago, to the vet. He had an abscess forming on his ear, from a fight with another cat I suppose. I was not sure I should lance it myself since it is such a thin area, the ear, and was afraid he would end up with a punk rock hole in his ear and him with NO earrings :-) No problem. He was a prince at the vet since it meant getting petted a bunch by the vet and me. Purring like a chainsaw. Didn't care much for the thermometer though. Just some minor lancing, anti bodies and hydrogen peroxide.
On the way out I set him on the bench while I paid. He wanted to escape from the pet carrier and was hurling himself at the wire door and rocking the carrier from side to side. The people in the waiting room were watching. You would think that Zul the demon from hell was trying to get out. Then he lets out a little plaintive 'meow'. They all go...."That's a CAT?!?!?"
Yup. He weighs 18 pounds and is from tip of nose to end of tail 36 inches, at least. He loves to sit on your lap and be petted.
If a guy with Brezhnev eyebrows told me to do something, I'd do it.
Or as I know her, Mom.
Bagoh wins my favorite person award.
Some dude sent Obama some rice in a letter. Big trouble.
April, Does that award come with any swag? I can't make it to the ceremony, but I will send a lesbian handicapped Native American with Tourretts to read my acceptance speech. In short, I'm honored to accept your award, and save the whales ... or something.
Right on, DBQ.
I rescued a cat from a homeless man once. The guy couldn't keep it so I took it. The poor cat had ear mites and bad teeth. I spent a lot of money getting this cat healthy enough to adopt. Kept him for 6 months. Eventually I did find him a home.
When I rescued the cat it was just a fluke. I was in Denver driving home stopped at a red light. The same homeless man who I see all the time at this particular corner was there with a pet carrier. hmmmmm that's new? He caught my eye and pointed down at the carrier. I rolled down my window and I asked him "what have you got in there." He said "I have a cat and I can't keep it." Oh crap. He found the right person. He could have had a Tasmanian devil in there and I would have taken it.
It's a humble award. No frills.
I once rescued a homeless man from a cat. We should talk.
I need a hug. Where am I?
I may bid on the Pope's Harley. It comes with mechanical infallibility, right?
He's a Jesuit, so his gang was probably the Sons of Opverty.
Hugs, Darcy!!
In jail?
LOL. I don't need any more homeless men. One is enough.
I've since adopted Ben, the homeless man. I buy him lunch on occasion. We chat when the light is red. He always asks about "Buddy". He misses his Buddy.
Ben has diabetes, only a few teeth, and a nasty cigarette addiction. I gave him a few bucks once, but stopped that. Now I just bring him sugar free food.
Actually I think it would be a great idea for a charity up-start.
Adopt a homeless person. Just one.
*hugs*
I need a hug. Where am I?
Working at the office.
*hugs*
Quarantined in Antarctica.
Oh! I'm among friends. Thank you. :)
*hugs*
I am still trying to figure it all out and sometimes you know it just sucks. Not tragic. Nothing to really whine about. Just general life suckitude.
But hugs help. Thanks! I stumbled into the right place.
Didn't care much for the thermometer though.
Would you?!
*hugs*
But hugs help. Thanks! I stumbled into the right place.
Warm hugs, darcy!
You gave me an idea for a future blog post: what's the best or worst bar you ever stumbled into.
Thanks, Chick and Lem.
I already know my response to your post. lol Best and worst were the same place but I will share more.
@darcy: the ground rules would have to be that you chanced into the bar by accident. It could just be a weird bar. It can't be about a favorite that turned sour or vice versa.
Oh and sometimes people just feel better when they're together.
I can play by the rules. Lay them on me.
And yes I agree, they do Chick. Sometimes...often, even. :)
'Night, all. Going to sleep it off...
Night Darcy.
'Night darcy. Sleep well!
Where am I? Who am I? These are all normal questions here at Lems.
:)
New info babe at Fox used to be a fighter jet pilot.
nice.
Where am I? Who am I? These are all normal questions here at Lems.
[This has nothing to do with my future blog post which I would limit to real bars versus "virtual bars"]
I will never forget the time that Freeman Hunt stumbled into Trooper's (before it became speakeasy requiring a password). She was looking (I think) for news/rumors on the budding Meade/Althouse romance (this being early 2009)
"Who am I and why am I here?" she wrote. I think Ruth Anne replied something about James Stockdale. I always liked Freeman and thought she was straight shooter. Same with Ruth Anne who is never around. I miss them.
April, that's a wonderful thing, adopting one homeless guy! If only more people were as giving as you are. Fixing broken people, one at a time. Miracles would happen, for both fixer and fixee. Everyone is broken in some way, visible or otherwise.
"I miss them."
Same here.
@ Haz
Sadly, I'm not really fixing him. I'm aiding him at the farthest of margins. I wanted to get him into Step 13, but he refuses to work. He bristles at the mere mention of the word "work".
@ Pollo (You'll always be Pollo to me) I don't recall Ruth Ann - maybe the name rings a bell? I imagine Freeman is busy raising her children in the very best of children raising ways.
@ Darcy ...Just general life suckitude.
Life does indeed suck sometimes.
I hope you feel better, whatever it is that's troubling you.
I think work can be sneaked on people, even clever people suspicious of having work sneaked upon them.
If there is a trace of desire for association.
Forgive me, I'm thinking this up right now, pulling it out of my... well you know, expressing what I think of it spontaneously.
You associate with them, your broken bird as it were. Do things together. Occasionally even productive things. Do regular somewhat productive things together, develop a pattern, habitualized (<--underlined in red), ritualized, regularized and then, surprise, paid. Bonk. Paid for doing a regular thing. Bonk bonk bonk, Dude, you're not actually working at a job, we don't want that, few of the regular demands and responsibilities that are so unbearable, but still (whispers) rather somewhat steadily productive nonetheless, and paid on a reliable basis to boot.
The thing about addicts is they get addicted to things more easily than most like habits. Even lame little non-job like habits that are productive, valued and paid. It's rewarding, getting payment just for doing a regular thing.
You notice how often they'll find clever ways and expend a lot of energy to avoid work. Such as recycling.
My attitude about this arises from my own avoidance of being paid for doing any type of regular thing.
It's hard.
You show your mad skills at catering somebody's party and all of a sudden people are angling to get you do that for reals.
You interpret for a few blokes and all of sudden you're being corralled into doing that to the point of having W2 forms.
Modeling, Jesus Christo, what a lot of energy doing a regular thing.
Painting. Art or interiors. Show you can do that and suddenly everyone want stuff painted and willing to pay for it.
With my brother it's mechanics and plumbing and electrics. Useful skills, if he's not careful he ends up being called up to do that for work. All day.
If there is honestly no desire for association then I'd say you're uckedfay.
Hugs, Darcy!
"Modeling, Jesus Christo, what a lot of energy doing a regular thing."
Tell me about it.
Your post reminds me of an old Humor in Uniform from Readers' Digest, about a soldier in an office complaining to his boss about being assigned all the hard jobs. The NCO replies, 'you're the laziest guy in the office, so you find the most efficient way to do things.'
Chip - I understand what you are saying. The trouble with Ben is that I actually thin he takes delight sitting on his bucket with his happy sign taking money from strangers. That is his work. His job.
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