Three Years!

And Now We Wait

I told David, "assume that you are being watched." Not in a paranoid way, and it's not like he has anything to hide, but I told him to drive like there's a cop behind him, because there probably is now that he's turned in his paperwork for the background investigation. Okay, so it's not really the FBI who is doing the investigation, it's a special department at the CHP, but either way it all spells p-a-r-t-y v-a-n to me. I've been teasing him, pointing out vans and saying "look, there's your investigator." He'd say "No it's not, quit it," and I would keep at it. "Seriously, the back of that Verizon van is full of cops and listening devices." What's really funny is that when we went to drop off his background investigation packet at the CHP station, there was a big Verizon van in the parking lot right next to the door. I had to laugh. "I told you so!"

Remember those first few episodes of COPS where a bunch of cops would hide inside of a big cardboard box, and they would put the box of cops in the back of a pickup truck and drive around, and they would jump out and surprise arrest people for various offenses? Was that not the funniest shit you ever saw?

No no, wait. The funniest shit you ever saw on COPS was when the cop dressed as a clown and drove around in a van and picked up prostitutes, and he even squirted one in the face with the daisy on his shirt. THAT was the funniest shit ever.

But we both have a really really good feeling about this CHP thing. I happen to believe that things are pre-planned, that there's a storyline that you're supposed to follow, and that circumstances sort of fit together to set up the next chapter. Then again I'm a writer, so my perspective is a bit influenced by that.

It really sort of hit me when there was a part on his background investigation application that asked him to list any applications he had with other agencies, and he had to call Beaumont PD to find out what the date was when he applied for dispatcher. He applied for it back when he was out with his broken clavicle, and when he called the other day to ask about it, it turns out that they actually wanted him to come in and interview, and that they called him the very next day after he turned in the application in January. David never got that message. There was no reason for him to of not gotten the message, but he didn't get it.

Almost like he wasn't supposed to take that job because he had to be available for something else.

And did our rickety old geezer of a Civic get stolen so that it would force us to buy a more dependable vehicle so that he could drive out to these tests and what not? Okay, it's costing us an arm and a leg in gas because the car gets like 20 miles to the gallon, but the car wont leave you stranded. With the Civic in those last few months, it was always a question. Nancy is pretty and not very economical, but there is a dash light for every single error that the car could ever think to have, so at least we are in the know in case something does go wrong.

It seemed that as soon as he got that background check application and he needed to round up five references who are not related to him, nor have ever been employers or co workers, nor school teachers, that's the week that his friends in high places (federal agent, fire captain, cop from Orange County, and a regular bloke who knows him well) showed up to recycle. And he was able to get ahold of the homicide detective and the private investigator who used to be a homicide detective to ask them, and they said yes.

Then there's the thing that is going on at The Cans. The zones got split again, and the two Beaumont sites are now considered Desert so he lost his awesome supervisor...almost. His supervisor, the guy who put his job on the line to protect David's when the computer was stolen, and who gives him paid vacation days so that he can go take his CHP tests, fought to at least share David with the Desert supervisor. You know you're special when your supervisor cant stand seeing you in someone else's zone. I was there when Rick introduced the new supervisor to David. Rick was practically in tears as he told Sal that David should have been promoted long ago and the only reason that he's still working in the little metal box is because he doesn't have a car. He promoted David's brother (David got him the job) as a second choice, and if he had 10 more guys like David he would hardly have to work at all. Rick's theory on David leaving is that he's too good to be a can man forever, and that it's great that he's pursuing his career. But Rick says, "Well, that's great that you're leaving, but you need money now, right?" and gave him a raise and permission to leave just whenever he needs to in order to take care of CHP stuff.

Yesterday, when he turned in the application out in San Bernardino, we got a call from the Sergeant when we got back to Beaumont saying that he forgot to turn in the permission to release information forms that he was supposed to have notarized. He had them, he just completely blanked and forgot to turn them in, and he is lucky that the sergeant called him because yesterday at 5:00 was the deadline. So yeah, we drove all the way back out there to turn them in. But the thing is, that could have been an automatic fail. They could have seen it as irresponsible, forgetful, and not how a cop would do things, but the sergeant gave him another chance to get those papers turned in. That is probably just lucky, is what that probably is.

Then I was contacted by the same literary agent who sent me The Middle Place by Kelly Corrigan to review, and they asked me to review a book about looking at life changes in a positive light, and how to both cope with and ease into change. Um, like the change that I could possibly endure when I am uprooted from the area that I have lived in for 24 years to live in Upper Upper Upper California while he's in academy?

Are the pieces falling together?

And David, I've always loved how pale and doughie he is, and he's still quite pale but his doughie marshmallowness is slowly transforming into delicious steak. And I swear to god that Petie is at least an inch bigger. Yeah, I said it. On the internet I said it. That's where I say everything.

I don't want to make any serious predictions, because neither one of us really knows for sure, but it feels like it's going to happen.

Questions And Answers From Ty

Here are some of the recent bits of wit and ponderings from my 4 1/2 year old who has an IQ of 132.

• If you eat too much, you will splode.
• There could be a spaghetti that is so long, so long, soooo long that it goes out the door, but if you ate it, you would splode.
• What is inside of a cucumber? But what is it made of? There is something inside of cucumbers that isnt cucumber.
• If you cook chips and cheese you get onchoes.
• What is inside of a cow?
• If you had no tongue you couldnt talk, and if you didnt have any teeth you would have to eat applesauce all day long.
• What is behind my eyeballs? Springs maybe?
• What is that lady doing to that man? (this is why we got rid of our TV, because the lady was doing the man on the cable television, and I do not approve of tele-porn, only internet porn, and dusty VHS tape porn.)
• When Wade says "A-agay" it means that he found food on the floor.
• Tr-aaa-ff-ic...Traffic. That word says traffic.
• Why is it called a drain pipe?
• Why do the numbers start over after 9?

Feel free to give him some answers if you can come up with any. I am getting a little run down from the follow ups.

The Strange Life I Lead.

I just got done watching Across the Universe. You know, the musical where they made a bunch of Beatles songs into a two and a half long acid trip? Sure beats the musical we watched last weekend, Sweeney Todd. You know, the movie where Johnny Depp cuts peoples necks open and Helena Carter uses their bodies to make pie and they sing about it.

I am also knitting a purse, a sweater, and a very bright and colorful blanket.

I am writing a book about a stripper.

I interviewed myself about my other book and sent it to the local newspaper. They'll publish anything, even crazy Jessie talking to herself.

And, I am reading the bible. New Testament. The Gideons gave it to David about a year ago, and he was uninterested so he gave it to me, and I put it on my shelf because it said "This Book Is Presented To: the recycle guy" and I thought that was funny. And my to be read list is alphabetical, and Im in the N's, so New Testament it is.

I told David that I am reading the bible, and he laughed at me. He said "Good luck," and I said why because of the language, and he said "no because it was actually sitting and reading the bible that made me ultimately decide to leave the church."

I have completed the book of Matthew and I am in Mark now. I really like the part in Matthew where Jesus goes nuts because there arent any figs on the tree and he totally destroys it. He's all "NO FIGS? HULK SMASH!!!" Oh and I also like the part where Jesus made other people steal for him. You remember when he told the decipels to go over the hill and take the ass and the colt, and he said "if anyone questions you, just say that I need it and they'll leave you alone." I think it's kind of wrong that Jesus got around the whole "I cant sin because Im the son of god" by making other people do his dirty work. Steal your own damn ass, Jesus.

Also I had no idea that the bible mentioned zombies so much.

Also I think I know why David left the church.

So this is what I do pretty much all day. I havent had internet access in my home for over a month now. Got me reading the bible and shit. I hear tell that my mothers day gift will be the internets, so I will no longer have to borrow from open networks, which would be nice.

And tomorrow, he is going to turn in his background investigation paperwork to the CHP. The FBI is going to follow us around and possibly dig through our trash.

Am I not like the most interesting person you know?

So Here's What I've Been Working On

This is chapter four of the book that I most recently started working on, the one that David says will be the crown jewel of my novels. This isnt even spell checked, so dont look for errors, just enjoy the content. The working title is Bombshell.

Marina recognized her right away. It was Annie Stone, her ex best friend. She came walking into the club wearing a floor length black sequined gown, her arm wrapped around the arm of her husband, who was the owner of some chain restaurant franchise out in Calimesa. There were a few men with them, no doubt managers of his restaurant who he had taken out for drinks and lap dances. Annie already looked half drunk.

Shimmer was working the floor, walking through the crowd and sitting at random tables making chit chat, hoping to interest someone in a dance. She tried to slink past Annie’s table, but Annie noticed her, and gently grabbed her arm.

“Rina? Is that really you?” Marina rolled her eyes, and turned toward the hand that held her arm.

“Actually my name is Shimmer, it’s a pleasure to see you here at the club.”

“Oh, Shimmer,” Annie snorted behind her hand. “I didn’t realize that you had a stripper name. Actually I didn’t realize that you were a stripper!”

“At your service,” Marina said snidely.

“Oh my god! Can I get a lap dance? How much are lap dances? Oh oh, and can you get the DJ to play that song More Human Than Human? I want a lap dance from you, but not now, later, when I'm more drunker.”

“Sure Annie, just let me know when you’d like me to come back,” Shimmer said and walked out onto the balcony. She didn’t have time to waste on letting Annie gawk at her unless she was going to pay. After she was handed the cash, the girl could gawk all she wanted, it didn’t matter. Silver was sitting out on the bench having a cigarette.

“Hey,” Silver said when she saw her come out. She chuckled, “I spilled a bit of my drink, can you get me a napkin?”

Shimmer got the joke right away, as corny as it was, and laughed along with her. “Ugh, my boyfriend was pissed that I got sent home early and didn’t finish my shift,” she said as she sat down.

“What’s he got to be pissed about? Doesn’t he work?”

“Yeah, for Papa Johns.”

“Well those guys make good in tips, why is he worried about how much you make? He doesn’t even live with you.”

“Yeah, I know. But he spends his tip money on coins mostly. He’s a coin collector.”

“Wow, uber nerdy,” Silver teased.

“Yeah, but the guy is sitting on over $700,000 in rare coins. He’s a rich nerd.”

“Damn girl!” she said as she leaned into Shimmer playfully with her shoulder. “What’s a girl with a rich boyfriend doing in a place like this?”

“He wont sell any of them, his mommy wont let him,” she said sarcastically.

“It’s too bad,” Silver said as she put out her cigarette in the nearby ashtray. “I used to work out at that club Incense And Peppermints, and I was making a sheeeeeeit load of money there. But then this guy came in, Atom Smash he calls himself, and he bought the club and renamed it The Rhinestone. That’s when he moved in a bunch of prostitutes so he could make more money, and if you weren’t willing to give at least a hand job, you were out of a job.”

“Oh my god! Atom Smash is the guy who bought La Infidel and turned it into Skin! Oh I knew that guy was a creep!”

“He sure is. He’s trying to get as many clubs as he can to run as cat houses, hardly any of them left that aren't owned by him. But then I met Asia, and she told me about this place. So, I came and applied, and Armando hired me right away.”

Shimmer was glad to hear that Silver was a good girl, and that her gut feeling about her was right in that she was not a hooker. She could tell that she and Silver would become fast friends.

Just then, the guy who she hit in the face with the napkin holder appeared in the doorway. He didn’t come out, but he stood shyly and partially inside. He whistled a sharp and high pitched whistle call between his teeth, like a person does to call a dog, in Shimmer and Silver’s direction.

“Shit…that’s the guy,” Shimmer muttered.

“You mean napkin face?” Silver whispered back.

“Yes!”

Again, he chirped at her, beckoning her to come to him.

“Ignore him,” said Silver.

“How did he get in? Gordon wouldn’t have let him back in the club!”

“Gordon isn't here tonight, it’s Jeremy.”

“That little pip squeak? Oh god I am so screwed.”

“Ok, just act like you don’t see him. Until he comes up to you and talks to you or whatever, just stay out here with me. Hopefully the DJ will call you up soon and you can blow right past him.”

Shimmer thought it was a good plan, so they just kept talking about stripper things. Shoes, bra sizes, piercings. Tattoos; of which Marina had none. Finally, the DJ called for Shimmer to “stand by,” meaning that she would be dancing at the next song. The Mexican guy was still standing in the doorway, and she walked past him as fast as she could, only for him to follow after her. She walked quickly through the bar past the tables, and she felt him grab the back of her bra. She turned and grabbed his arm.

“Let go of me!” she yelled. Hearing this, Jeremy hustled over.

“What’s the problem here?” Jeremy asked.

“Gordon threw this creep out of the club last night, and now he’s over here grabbing me!”

“Okay, come on essay, let’s go.”

Only this time, the guy was staying put. He wasn’t intimidated by Jeremy at all, which is precisely why none of the girls liked him as a bouncer because they knew that he couldn’t protect them.

“I said let’s go,” he repeated, and the guy spit in his face. Jeremy swiped with one leg and knocked the guy to the ground, then twisted his arm against his neck until he cried out in pain.

“Are you ready to go now?” Jeremy asked as he picked the guy up by the twisted arm and a belt loop. “You leave my girls alone now, understand?” and he carried the man outside and tossed him down the stairs. He crashed into the security gate with a loud bang, and Jeremy opened the gate and kicked him through to the other side of it. The guy rolled down a few stairs before getting up and running toward his car. Shimmer and everyone on the balcony cheered for Jeremy, who had finally shown why Armando must have hired him as a bouncer! None of them had ever seen Big Gordon do anything like that before, it was awesome!

Without having time to check her makeup, she stepped up onto the stage, just as the beginning notes to Hollaback Girl were starting. She enthusiastically threw her leg around the pole and spun around before reaching down on the pole with one arm and kicking her legs upward along the pole so that she was upside down, supporting herself with her one ropy arm. She clutched the pole with her other hand and made her way up the pole backwards, spreading her legs wider as she got closer to the ceiling, until her butt was touching the black tiles of it. Then she spun down the pole with her legs out, a move that she called The Helicopter, until she got close enough to the ground to put her palms down flat on the floor carefully and one at a time. She let her upright legs slowly bend down backward over her body, what she called The Wilting Flower, then carefully laid her head and back down on the floor, her knees up and her feet touching the floor.

The show that she did on the floor was just as impressive as the one that she did on the pole. She spread her legs so that the audience could see her crotch, which was covered with a lime green pair of panties that matched her lime green bra, and slowly she pulled one leg up close to her head, the tip of her toe and her thigh touching the stage, as the back of her other thigh and ankle touched the stage out in front of her. She ran a hand daintily from her crotch to the back of the calf by her head, then pulled both of her legs together and snapped her heels in a fast motion. The snap was always so loud, a real attention getter, and it scared the shit out of anyone who wasn’t paying attention to her dance.

She continued her stage show with the regular moves, the back flips, handsprings, The Fireman, Razzle Dazzle, and the like. In the beginning of her second song, she untied the front of her bra, and her tiny yet round and muscular breasts were only partially distracting from her amazing gymnastics. By the end of the song, she was a little tired, and she could tell because she knew that her Flag was a little droopy, and her legs weren’t sticking out as straight as she would have liked them to be.

After the song changed to the next, the DJ announced her name once again, and she tied her bra back on and walked over to pick up her tips off of the stage by the rail. Some were tossed onto the ground, and some were tucked into the garter on her leg by patrons as she walked past them. A few of them rubbed her smooth skin and smiled in delight as they tipped her.

As she walked off the stage, she saw Armando standing in the back corner by the bar wearing a suit. He was looking right at her, and he curled his finger to let her know to come to him. She gulped. She began walking toward him but Annie grabbed her garter and tucked a few ones in it.

“Hey, I still want a dance,” she said, a little more sloshed than before.

“Okay, just tell the DJ what song you want and when it comes on I’ll be over, okay?”

Annie laughed in excitement and also because she was rather liquored up as Shimmer walked back toward Armando.

“Hi Armando,” she said, trying to be cheerful.

“Marina, I has to has a word with you again, darling.”

“Okay…”

“Do you know what this is already about yes?”

“About the napkin holder…”

“Yes, about the napkin holder,” he said in his thick accent, which sounded something between Middle Eastern and Spanish. “I tolded you before about the hitting customers, it is not allowed!”

“I know Armando, I'm really sorry.”

“You’re one of my top girls. What is gotten into you?”

“I just lost my temper.”

“Well losing temper is not allowed, okay?”

“Okay,” she said as she began to turn away, thinking the talk was over.

“No, I is not through with you yet,” he said. “The man had he’s brother come here, big man. Big big man. And he is upset! I don’t have Gordon here tonight, and Jeremy cannot handle these man, I am in trouble here, trying to talk to the man but he is not listen. I got it under control but you need to know that you cause too much trouble for me. One more outburst and I sorry but I have to let you go.”

“Armando, please,”

“Please nothing! The guy is outside in the parking lot waiting to talk to me, and I am actually scared to go down there!”

“Just call the cops!”

“The cops? What the cops going to do, eh? You just get back into dressing room and stay there until you are called onto stage. No lap dances tonight for you, you only dance on stage, then you wait in the dressing room. That’s final!”

She was angry, but she had no choice. Her job was on the line, and maybe it was best that she stay away from the customers. She stormed off to the dressing room, and considered for a few minutes just calling it a night and going home, but even if she wasn’t giving lap dances she was at least going to make a few tips on the stage, so it was better that she stayed.

She listened to the music, and the DJ telling the different girls to stand by. Autumn. Candy. Misty. Then she heard More Human Than Human start to play. Oh crap! Silver came running into the dressing room all out of breath.

“This drunk girl out here is looking for you!”

“I know! Look, just tell her I cant do any more dances tonight.”

“Why not?”

“Armando told me I couldn’t.”

Silver grabbed her hand and pulled her up out of her chair. “Armando is down in the parking lot hashing it out with some guy, he wont see if you come out and just do one dance, you need the money don’t you?”

“Well…yeah…”

“Then hurry!”

The girls scuttled through the hall back out into the bar, and there was Annie, shitfaced and ready for her dance.

“Did you try to get away from me Sparkles?” Annie slurred.

“No, lets just get this done really quick.”

“I WANT MY FUCKING DANCE!” Annie yelled, and Shimmer tried to hush her.

“Psst…” she heard Annie’s husband say. He looked a little embarrassed at his wife’s behavior, but he held out two twenty dollar bills between his fingers for her to take. She nodded slightly toward him, and he turned back to his friends and continued to chat.

“Okay, Annie? Just sit down in this chair right here,” Shimmer said as she pulled a chair over for her. Annie slumped into it and laughed as her head rolled around on the back of the chair. Shimmer straddled her legs with her feet on the floor and slowly shimmied her breasts at Annie. Annie coughed and then hiked up her dress, revealing that she was wearing even less than Shimmer.

“I want you to fuck me, Glitter, fuck me right here in front of everyone,” Annie yelled. Shimmer tried to pull her skirt down, and hoped that Armando wouldn’t come in and see her socializing with this drunken wench. Annie’s husband held out another twenty without even looking.

“Oh Glitters,” she moaned and put her hands on Shimmer’s ass. Just then, Jeremy walked up and warned her about the no touching rule before Shimmer had a chance to.

“Alright, alright,” Annie hissed, and flopped back into her chair, lying motionless as a doll with her arms hanging down at her sides as Shimmer bounced on her lap gently. Suddenly she sprang to life again and hoisted herself up. She started dancing with Shimmer, with her arm up in the air, slowly rolling thrusts of her hips at her.

Jeremy walked back over and touched Annie’s arm. “No dancing with the girls either ma’am, please stay seated.”

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do!” Annie shouted, and sloppily shoved Jeremy.

“Alright, that’s it, you’re outta here!” Jeremy said, holding her by the arm pits. She twisted and struggled.

“Let go of me! Jesse! Help, he’s going to take me!”

Her husband stood up and tried to reason with the bouncer, but Jeremy politely told him that she was too hammered, and that they would have to leave the club. Jesse decided that it wasn’t worth the fight, she was pretty drunk, and he should probably get her home.

“Fuck you!” Annie yelled at nobody and everybody, and pulled her dress down to reveal her tits. Several hoots and hollers came from the crowd of men, along with encouragement from a few for her to get on the stage. Jeremy wasn’t about to manhandle her like he did with the Mexican guy, especially since she had her high beams on and her husband was right there. Though he didn’t try to control or console his wife at all, which irritated Jeremy. He ended up carrying her with one arm wrapped around her rib cage, her legs flailing behind him and her bare breasts facing the floor. Her hands tried to push him away from her, but to no avail.

Meanwhile, Armando had come back into the club, and had seen the tail end of what went on between Shimmer and the drunk girl.

“What did I got done telling you?” he reprimanded. “No dancing on the floor, and you did it anyway. I want you out of my club!” he shouted, but before she could say any words of protest, the brother of the napkin holder guy, who Armando had sparred with briefly in the parking lot, had pushed his way through the door. Since Jeremy was dealing with Annie, he wasn’t there to stop him from coming in and running toward Armando, who knocked over several tables as he ran out to the balcony.

The big dude was pissed, and mean looking. Shimmer backed up to the stage as the guy angrily and hastily made his way after Armando, who had not quite made it outside before the guy grabbed him and charged out onto the balcony and pushed him violently up against the railing, which unexpectedly gave way, and the two of them fell straight down onto the asphalt below.

“Oh my god! Somebody call 911!” a girl called, and everyone in the club ran out to see what happened. Shimmer was among the group, and there she saw Armando and the big guy lying side by side on the pavement with blood coming from their heads.

“Oh god,” she said as she tried to choke back tears. Everybody stood in silence, staring down at the bodies of the fallen men, Armando with his obviously broken neck.

“Should we go down there and see if they’re still alive?” a man asked.

“No,” said Jeremy, “Nobody could have survived a fall like that. And if they did, the paramedics will be able to do more than any of us could.” Suddenly he realized that in the commotion of the fall, he had somehow lost hold his topless maiden, and he looked around to see where she had gone. Then he spotted the drunken woman as she staggered around in the parking lot a few feet away from the bodies.

“I gotta piss like a race horse,” she snarled, and everyone watched in horror and amusement as she hoisted her skirt up to her midsection, where the top had already been pulled down to, and she squatted and shot a hot stream of golden piss right onto the ground. The first ambulance arrived as her river met the puddle of blood by the big man’s head.

This Is My Impression Of Racket Ball

I almost had a Word Salad Lady story for you today because she bagged my groceries (in my awesome eco-friendly canvas bags, no less) but she didnt go all crazy on me today. So instead I am going to do my impression of Racket Ball for you...or...is it Raquet Ball? Whatever. You know what it is, it's the game with the paddles and the little rubber ball, and you hit it against the wall, yeah...that one.

Ok, but I have to set this up first, or else it's going to look retarded. Actually, it will look retarded no matter what, but like I said, Word Salad didnt deliver so Ive gotta do something else here. Look, Im short on material because I started writing again, and Ive not much creativity for blog time. I cant exactly stretch "Ty saw a midget and it confused him because he didnt understand how a person can be big (adult) and little like him at the same time, and he asked me if he lived with a mom and dad or if he drove a car, and why it was okay for him to smoke cigarettes since he's little but big" into a blog entry, so just take this today, it's all I have to offer. If you're good and you leave me lots of lulzy comments, I'll let you read what I have been working on. David says it's my Fight Club.

Ok, so my impression of Racket Ball. To explain, David has the running thing under control, not quite to the distance that he needs, but he also needs to bulk up and do weight training because he doesnt want to have to sit at the special "weight loss" table in academy, so he wanted me to go with him to check out this gym here in town. He's never been inside of a gym, and I used to be a regular at the Bally's in San Bernardino, so he wanted my opinion on this little place. So yeah, it's actually pretty decent as far as gyms go, it has lots of weight machines, the second floor is all cardio machines, there are free weights, and it has two Racket Ball courts. Now, I like to swim so I wont join a gym that doesnt have a pool, but for him this place is perfect, and very inexpensive. Plus, because he's paying for it he will be a lot more motivated to get up in the mornings to go than he is to run in the park. Also I will stab him if he does not go at the very least three days a week, we already agreed on that.

Right, so the Racket Ball. You can hear people playing Racket Ball throughout the gym because it's small, and Racket Ball makes quite a racket. Har de har har.

Note that itallics represent sound effects, and regular is people talking/making noises.

So this is my impression of Racket Ball:

Thoom!

Uhn!

Thoom!

Urrrrgh!

Thoom!

FUCK!

Thoom!

Urgnh!

Thoom!

Oh YEAH BABY!

Thoom! Boin...boin...thoop thoop

FUCK YEAH! FUCKING TAKE THAT SHIT!

Damnit.

Ok, you serve.

Sweerp, thoom!

Ugh!

Thoom!

Aw balls!

Thoom!

Ehn!

Thoom! THUDSMACK!

OW! CHRIST THAT HURT, YOU FUCKING NIGGER!

Dude, why are you calling me a nigger, Im Mexican...

Fuck you! You're a fucking nigger! AAAAAOOOOOOOWWW! Fuck!

See you tomorrow?

Yeah yeah...

Then a guy walks out of the Racket Ball room holding his hand to his face. Close curtain.

Thank you, thank you. But folks, we arent done here. For my encore, I shall do Curling. You know what Curling is, right? The sport where Canadians push hot water bottles across the ice with push brooms.

*Clears throat*

HARD! HARD! HAARRRRD! Woooah, woooah...yep yep, woah, yep, yep, HARD! HARD! Yep! YEP!

Klink

audience cheers

For $5, I will do your choice of drunk turkey, droid thing from Star Wars that goes donk donk chink donk donk oyie oyie! (that was a sample, not the whole impression) or Roomba when he has an error. You cant get this deal anywhere else! Act now and I'll throw in a bunch of swear words in Spanish sung to the tune of "Shenandoah."

Victim's Rights

Outside of Stater's for the past several weeks have sat a group of people with tables and clip boards who ask you three or four times if you would like to sign their petitions before you even get in the door. I generally ignore them, I don't have much respect for the people who bother me while I am shopping, yes bother, I said it. They're standing right next to the damn sign that says "Sorry these people are here, just ignore them and they'll go away -Stater's." They aren't like protesters, they're just annoying, especially when they keep asking you if you want to sign even though you already said no.

I walk by the table, which is strategically placed at the entrance so that you cant get away from them, and a woman says "Sign for victim's rights?"

This perplexed me.

"What do you mean by Victim's Rights?"

"We have a petition here that you can sign, and it helps pass a law to protect victims."

"Protect them from what?"

"Well it gives them rights," she says.

"But, what rights? Everyone has rights. Victims already have rights. And everyone is a victim. What kind of victims are you trying to get rights for? Murder? Identity theft? Rape?"

"It's for the families-"

"That doesn't answer my question though," I say. "I don't understand what rights you mean, because like, 'victims rights' is pretty vague, and I guess it sounds good in theory, but it doesn't really explain much about what it is."

"Well what it does is it keeps criminals behind bars."

"But criminals are already behind bars. I thought this was about victims, not criminals. Is this about preventing re-victimization?"

"Uh, hold on," the woman says and leans over to the guy next to her, who is running through the brief and vague explanations of the various petitions to an old woman in a visor. "Jerry...Jerry...Jerry," she says to him. "Hold on a minute, I gotta ask Jerry," she says to me.

Jerry told Muriel to be quiet because he "got one."

So Muriel turned to me and just sort of looked at me open mouthed for a minute. "Well if you don't want to sign it you can just say no, I mean-"

"But I don't know if I want to sign it, you haven't told me what I am signing yet."

Again, she looks at me blankly.

"This is the part where you give me information and explain in detail what it is that these rights are, and convince me to sign it. Obviously it isn't very important because you just tried to get me to leave without signing it. If the rights were so important, you'd of done some kind of research so that you could get my signature."

Then Jerry says "Hey lady, we don't need your signature if you're just here to hassle us!" And at this point, a small crowd starts to form.

"But you're the one sitting here at the table holding out clip boards and pens to people who are just here to shop for food! All I asked was what I was signing, and your friend here couldn't give me an answer."

"Oh just get out of here, we don't want you to sign it, get out of here!" he grumbles.

"But she asked a valid question," a woman behind me says to him. "What are victim's rights? She just wants to know what she's signing."

Jerry, who looks like the guy from those diabeeeeeeeetus commercials, spouts off something like "for the families, criminals behind bars," along those lines.

Everyone just kind of stood there. Jerry and Muriel looked like they had just been caught having sex or something. The security guard stood idly by twisting a toothpick between his teeth.

The five or so of us just walked inside.

When I walked out, Jerry and Muriel were on some sort of lunch break, leaving the empty table and chairs behind.

Interview With Author Jessie Terwilliger On Her Upcoming Novel

Tell us a little bit about your novel, The Fight for Golden Dawn.

Well, it's the story of a little girl who is taken from her parents and placed with her aunt, who finds that it is not as easy as she thought it would be at first because of the conflict between herself and the girl's father, who is her brother. He turns out to be obsessed with conspiracy theories left and right, and concludes that his daughter is the second coming of Christ, and that she was not taken by Child Protective Services but The Freemasons, who he believes are out to destroy her.

Is this at all like your first book, Eat Your Colors?

Not in any way. Eat Your Colors was an instructional guide on getting children to eat healthy foods, which didn't do so well because it happened to be released in the same month as two other books that were written on the exact same subject, one of which was written by a celebrity. The Fight for Golden Dawn is my debut novel, a work of fiction.

Do you find it easier to write fiction than non fiction?

Yes and no, in some aspects it is. My first book was based on a lot of research and fact checking. This book had more leeway for creativity and I was able to have more fun with it.

How long did it take you to finish writing it?

About six months off and on, on mostly.

Are the names of the characters significant in any way?

Significant? No, but symbolic yes. My main character Brooke and her husband have the last name of Singleton, which is of course a street name in Calimesa where I grew up. The social worker is named Tiffany White because she is supposed to be almost gleamingly innocent and an astonishingly beautiful woman, sort of like an elegant wedding gown. Though in actuality she is a very sinister character.

Why Freemasons? And why the religious undertones?

Because there is a lot of room for conspiracy theories with the Freemasons, and they are often an easy target for theorists to obsess over because they are so secretive. Remember that the father of the girl is insane, so many of the things that he believes in the book are not necessarily true, just something that he read on a website or heard from another theorist. He's also going through a rough time after losing his mother, which is often when people find or seek religion, so it seemed to go hand in hand.

Whose writing style does yours most resemble?

My own, actually. Early in my writing I tried to model my style after Chuck Palahniuk, author of Fight Club and many others, but then I sort of grew my own sort of voice to write with. I've had my writing classified with the word "wry" before, meaning that it is clever, sarcastic, and humorous, but the basis overall is probably just very descriptive and easy to relate to for any age.

Concerning the subject matter, is the book appropriate for all ages?

I don't believe that books should be censored, but it does deal with rather heavy subject matter and emotionally disturbing themes at times. But considering the sort of things the public sees on television, I don't expect my story to be a heavy shock on all who read it, but the reader should be prepared for a bit of a rollercoaster ride.

What will the readers like most about it?

The fact that there will be a sequel.

Is it difficult to be a self published author?

Actually, it's a lot easier. You don't have to face deadlines, and you're free to keep the rights to your work. However, getting your name out there is hard, and getting the publicity isn't easy. I don't have an agent, it's just me and my husband David. Most agencies who help promote authors wont touch the independently published people like myself because it's too new, and unfortunately the few of us who are good and deserve the attention are lost in a sea of excitable do-it-yourselfers and dismissed as part of the fad. But at this point I still prefer it to mainstream publishing. If I do get really well known, I want to be the one who got me there.

If this book doesn't do as well on the market as you hope for it to, will you give up your writing career?

No. Even if it flops, I will continue to do what I want, when I want to do it.

Do you have any other works on the backburner or already in progress?

Yes, I finished a manuscript for a sort of young adult book called A Powdery Tattoo which takes place at Yucaipa High. I also have about a third of another one written that is about a woman who lives near a cemetery, and I just started another one about an exotic dancer who has hopes of becoming a deputy sheriff for San Bernardino County. I also have the notes and outlines written for three other novels that I haven't started on.

Where can we find out the information on The Fight for Golden Dawn regarding its release date and where to buy it?

You can go to Jessie-Terwilliger.com and find the up to date information on the book, as well as take a sneak peek at the first five chapters of the book.

1% Chance Of Relocation

His shoes were fine by the way, nobody even noticed. Or if they did, they didn't care. He walked in and the Sgt said "Hey, wait a minute. I know you..."

And the other officers said "Hey I know him too," and "Yeah he looks familiar."

Sgt says "Oh I know! You're my can man!"

And they all go "And you delivered my pizza."

He was among friends at the station.

So the point of the highway patrol is to reduce the number of casualties on the road. Their main goals are speeders, no seatbelt, and drunks. And generally, even though they seem rather intimidating and kind of like The Real Deal, they are friendly and there to help. Basically, don't speed, don't do speed, don't drink and drive, and always wear a seatbelt, and you'll never hear from the highway patrol. And if you break down, stay in your car, because one of them will be along to help you eventually.

I wont go into detail about his ride along, that's private, but he was well educated on the basics of the job by his officer. Here are some random quotes from the lulzy officer:

"Lean forward! We have to go faster!"

"Want to go to IHOP?"

"I cant write tickets to grandmas."

"If that car doing 87 were to swerve and hit us right now, you'd shit your pants, right? Well, we'd probably live, but we'd be hurtin', we would be hurtin'."

David remained very professional and inquisitive, and they met a retired LAPD guy at the IHOP who is bicycling across America. He just started from LA, which is why he was in Beaumont...which is rather impressive considering that it is at least a two hour drive, and who knows how long it takes on a bike.

They all said "If you don't get in the first time, try again." You have to realize that out of all of the applicants across the state, which is thousands of people, they only hire 1%. That's less than a handful. I'll put it this way, 1/2 of the people who he saw at the written test showed up to the physical, and after the physical test only 1/3 of that half remained.

The officer who gave him a ride home did give him some advice though. He said that when he goes up to Sacramento for academy for six months, he should take us with him. He said that it doesn't matter how good your marriage is, it's hard. It even says in the pamphlets that the number one reason why cadets drop out of the academy is being homesick/having marital issues. He said that he drove home every weekend, and his family lives here in the IE, so that's quite a drive. The guy who he carpooled with ended up dropping out because he missed his family.

Yes, I know that military families are torn apart for months and years at a time, but the thing is that he's not going into the military. The only problem that I had with moving is that I don't want to move Ty around and switch schools on him. But David said that at his age, he's resilient. If we did that when he was 11, yeah, that would mess him up. But he's going into kindergarten, possibly the only grade that it's easy to make friends in. He should be okay.

Oh my god, and did you know that the CHP in Sacramento are on horseback? Isn't that charming? And David says that they train those cop horses to bite. That is the awesomest. Not that he would end up there, actually you don't find out your assignment till graduation, but being there and seeing the biting cop horses, that is win. You just don't mess with a cop on a horse, you just don't do it.

So apparently if he gets in, I am moving. But then maybe I will be able to visit my peeps in Oregon and Washington! The only thing is that academy is apparently backed up, so even if he does get hired, we wont be leaving right away.

First things first, we have to get this background investigation application turned in.

The Business Casual Argument

When David scheduled his CHP ride along (which he's at right now) his only instructions were to come dressed in business casual attire. I am no fashion expert, particularly when it comes to men's clothing, but it is my understanding that business casual is like how you dress if you're going golfing with your boss. He agrees, he knows that a polo with khaki pants is pretty much as business casual as you can get, right?

The basic point is not to wear a t-shirt and jeans, and to look presentable, but not to the point of where you might look like you're going to an interview or something.

So he finds one of his polos, a nice blue one, and he puts on the khaki dress pants that I bought him for his written test. Only there is something seriously wrong with the pants. Not only do his pockets look like elephant ears, but it appears that he has a large, and quite bulbous, erection.

"Ok...what the hell is going on with your pants?"

"They don't fit."

"They fit you like three weeks ago, what is the issue here?"

"I lost weight, and they don't fit, and I cant be riding around in the cruiser looking like Dirk Diggler here."

"Nice reference to Boogie Nights there."

"Thanks."

"So what else do you have?"

"My pizza pants." Which are khaki, but not dress.

"Cha, joo know vat? Uh uh. They smell like perma-pizza and the laundry room is broken."

"Actually I found that pair that you bought several months ago that were mismarked and ended up being too small, so these not only fit but they also don't smell like pizza."

"Ok great."

He's clean shaven, he smells like a cowboy on Christmas morning, he no longer has a party in his pants, and he looks business casual. Now for the shoes...and this is where we argue.

He puts on his Etnies, which are quite frankly just skater shoes. They are solid black, including the laces, but they have orange flamie E's on the sides. Very cool shoes, but a bit too casual and not enough business says I. I suggest the dress shoes, and he says no to that because "What if some crack head runs at us and I have to get away? I need to be in shoes that I can run in."

"David, the skater shoes make you look like a kid. Wear the dress shoes, and don't get close to any crack heads."

He was quiet for a long time, and a package arrived from Florida at that time and we were distracted. Thank you, Just A Girl, for the random assortment of items that you sent. I will find a use for some of them. Anyway, after a while he says "I am also thinking about wearing my running shoes."

I'm like "No, no, you cannot wear running shoes!"

"I need to be fast like a cheetah, I need my running shoes."

"David, you don't know enough about business casual to be making these decisions."

"YOU don't even know what business casual is YOURSELF!"

Right.

And it doesn't help that he's a guy, so he only owns three pairs of shoes. Not that I own more than three pairs myself, but I don't have to go anywhere that requires business casual attire.

When it came down to it, he wore the Etnies. They're black, they're comfortable, and if he has to run from a crack head he can. And considering his business outfit, adding a pair of rather casual shoes wouldn't hurt. And it wasn't like they wouldn't let him go on his ride along for wearing the wrong shoes...or maybe they could have done that but I'm pretty sure they didn't because I dropped him off at 1:30 and I haven't heard from him since.

Can anyone maybe recommend to me a book that explains how to dress men? Even if it's one of those For Dummies books, I don't care. We just need to decode all of this which buttons on the suit jacket don't you button and when do you not wear a belt kind of thing. Maybe something that gives a good idea of what shoes to wear with a business casual outfit. And none of that Queer Eye for the Straight Guy shit, those guys are way over the top with the moisturizers and $900 suits. Walmart/Target budget here people, that's what we have to work with. School me, people.

Castle Park

This is one of those little rinky-dink parks in the Inland Empire that never really made it, and hasn't really changed since the 70's. But we went because my sister was able to get us in for $8 a person because she's a teacher. Who cant pass up that deal? It's all for the kids, anyway...

















Sorry ladies, he's spoken for...



There is something so lonely about a broken ferris wheel





Maybe this was a bad idea...



Maybe not!



Old old old ride













FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! WHY???



Then we came home and ate fried chicken and watermelon. LOL all you want, but mmm mmm MMM! Love that chicken from Popeyes!

dying maybe?

i wasnt feeling well so i took a couch nap after the kids went to bed.
when i woke up just now, i realized that i cant feel my skin. is
this a sign of my impending death? (yes or no)

Usurped By Crack Heads AGAIN.

I went to look for a new microwave yesterday. Ours should have been replaced months ago when the food was taking longer to cook, and after that when the little Y shaped thing with the wheels that makes the plate turn broke somehow in the dishwasher. I don't even know why it was in the dishwasher to begin with, so don't ask. Now, it doesn't start when you hit start. Well, sometimes it will. Most of the time you have to kick start it by hitting the defrost button, and if you're lucky enough that it starts up when you do that, you have to stop it and then start it again on the regular cooking power. Sometimes, you think it will start, but then it will just shut off. You'll go "Damn, where's my chili? I put it in there like 10 minutes ago and I never heard the ding!" Then you'll look and there's your chili with 2:57 seconds left on the clock.

You put it in for 3:00 by the way.

Or me, I did. I put my chili in and got disappointed when it wasn't cooked. Your microwave probably works.

I tried to get one on Freecycle a while back, but nobody had one. So I finally decided to look for one at the store. Did you know that there are $200 microwaves out there? Why? Who owns those? I looked at one and it just has more of those pre-set buttons for "coffee" "popcorn" and "fresh vegetables." And the buttons have pictures of the food like the registers at McDonalds. My microwave that just crapped out had buttons like that but I hardly used them, except for popcorn. I am not a monkey. I can use the numbers and guess how long it will take for the shit to get hot.

I don't need anything fancy, just something to recombinulate the molecules of my chimichangas or whatever. And it cant be too big because I have limited counter space, and I am pretty sure that management wouldn't let me install one of those cool ones that has the exhaust on the bottom so you can mount it over your stove. Plus those are like $200, and who spends $200 on a microwave?

I kept going down the aisle, watching the prices go down and down and down. I found the last price, which was $46. That isn't so bad, but there was another one there that looked cheaper, and it was farther down the aisle, but it had no price. I didn't want to heft it into the cart and then wander around the damn Supercenter looking for a price scanner only to find out that it was some $200 jobby, because I am lazy and I don't like to lift things, so I left without a microwave. It's not like I could have just bought the $46 one if there was one there for less, but it's not like I was going to try very hard to find the price of the other one.

Then today, I picked David up at lunch to give him a ride to the police station. He's gathering references for his application right now, and he wants them all to be law enforcement type people. Right now he has a retired (retired because he was seriously injured in the line of duty) federal Fish And Game guy, and a fire chief with 30 years in, both people who he met at The Cans. He has a few more people who he is trying to get ahold of, but he also wanted to use a guy here in Beaumont who he was an Explorer with back in the day, and who was also my partner in dance class. Yeah, Officer Two-Step, you remember. Damn decent fella, he is. He was chasing a perp one time through the parking lot and he dropped the keys to the cruiser, and David found them. David was a big halper. I think Two-Step gave him one of those junior officer badge stickers.

So as we are driving to the station, we see this yard sale. And he goes, "MICROWAVE!" and I'm like "AWESOME!" I slow down to stop and he says "No, police station first." Fine. So he goes in, gets his thing that he needs, and he says "lets go get gas," and I said "No, lets go get microwave."

Well, then he threw in my face the fact that I totally bitched at him for leaving me without any gas earlier that day. People, he is the man, he takes out the trash, unclogs icky things, and puts god damn fuel in the god damn Oldsmobile. I do laundry, putter, and look pretty. Not pump gas.

No, I'm not really that spoiled, I just don't like to get gas when I have the kids because of the fact that I don't want to take them out of the car just to go 10 feet to pay the guy inside (lazy,) but I don't want to leave them in there because I am paranoid of some jackal stealing my car with the kids still inside (crazy.)

Normally the car has gas, he's really good about it, but the one time that it didn't, yer damn right I was all whiny about it.

So he went to get gas. And then we came back to the yard sale, and he gets out and asks "How much for the microwave?"

And this guy comes running up and wraps his arms around it and shouts "IT'S SOLD!" Woah, woah! Calm down turbo! Christ, the neighborly thing to say is like "Oh yeah, I already bought it, sorry man." But no, this guy was like "OH MY GOD! DID YOU JUST SAY MICROWAVE? THAT'S MY MICROWAVE! I AM GOING TO PUNCH YOU IN THE FACE FOR TRYING TO TAKE MY MICROWAVE!"

Basically, someone got there a few seconds before us and got our microwave.

Oh what are the odds, right?

Crackheads. Crackheads got my god damned microwave, just like they got my god damned bed. We called him a douchebag from the safety of the car and then drove off fast.

And it's all because I am both crazy and lazy. If I'd of just filled my own tank, we would of had it. If I'd of just checked the price on that other model, it wouldn't have mattered.

Another one will come along. There are plenty of microwaves in the sea of random happen-upons.

The Word (salad) Of God

People always tell me, "Oh Jessie, I love your blog. You can turn anything into a story, you even make grocery shopping interesting."

I am not the one making it interesting, it's these freaks that I run into.

My store, Stater's, sells canvas grocery bags for $1. They started selling them late last year, and I've always eyeballed them. They're nice, pretty big and sturdy, with a big Stater's logo and everything. This week, because of Earth Day, they are on sale at buy one get one free. Perfect! So I intended to get some today.

The point of the canvas bags is to reduce, reuse, and recycle, but also I like them because we have to carry our grocery bags pretty far. We live on the other side of the building from where we park, and we live upstairs. Many a jars of spaghetti sauce have broken through the thin plastic bags and splattered all over the pavement. Plastic bags are the bane of my existence. Of everyone's existence. They don't work well, they don't hold as much as paper (which is just contributing to tree killing or something to that effect,) and then you feel bad about just throwing them out so you collect them, swearing that you'll use them, but the fact of the matter is that you bring in at least 10-15 bags every week and you only find a use for maybe one or two in that time.

God bless the people who figured out how to turn the plastic bags into yarn.

Plus, we live in a very very windy place, and plastic bags go flying through the air and they get stuck in the trees. Winter time doesn't bring snow covered branches in So Cal, but it does reveal the stuck plastic bags whipping around in the tree tops.

So canvas bags? That's something I can get on board with. And at buy one get one free, pfft...try to keep me away from that deal.

The bagger girl asked me if I wanted paper or plastic, and I said, "Actually, can I get canvas bags?" She said sure, and went and grabbed eight of them, which of course cost me only $4. The lady in line behind me is buying booze and cigs, and she likes the idea of the bags too, so she asks to buy three so she can have six.

The girl bagging my groceries congratulates me on my purchase...I think. This is pretty much word for word what she said to me.

"I'm glad they be selling these now. Lord. People all up in here, they're about to start charging for everything! Everything you buy they're going to charge for! The government comes in here, all them responsible for the alcohol and tobacco, and all of that, they're charging for the plastic grocery bags, and it aint our fault. It's hard enough to get money as it is these days, then they gotta take it away by charging. But God will be in it, he will. I will tell you this much, my grandmother didn't have no bags, no. She didn't even have no store! Heaven Christ. She lived on a farm, so they just had everything they needed right there. Cotton fields. It's hard to get money these days, HARD! I cant believe the government and how it goes in and does this with the bags and the charging and that's my money and this shit my grandmother didn't have to pay, whooo! My grandmother have to pay, I swear something is wrong with the wicked world. But they had a farm. You can really fit a lot of stuff in these bags, I'm gunna have to get me some. My grandmother would have to get some sept she's with our Lord now, so now the farm aint got nobody running it. I like these bags a lot. God is going to rain down upon them all. Upon them all."

It was amazing. I had no idea what to say.

I call her Word Salad Lady. I am not sure if she is crazy or just a talker, or both, but the only way that I can describe what she said is word salad. David said that I should call the manager because of it. He says he knows her, and that she's always preaching the word salad of God to customers. I would think about it, but she probably needs the job.

Anyway, she only used seven of my eight bags, and I was buying my regular amount of stuff today so I think that they were a good purchase. The checker lady told me to write my name on the bags because people steal them. I don't know if she means that people will steal them from me or they steal them from the store and try to use them. But I came home and wrote TERWILLIGER on every bag.

Maybe I should take a Sharpee with me to the store every week and have my bagger sign them, and add a little quote or something, just to see what they write.

But then I would look like the crazy bag lady when I carry around my groceries in bags that Word Salad Lady wrote "GOD WILL RAIN DOWN ON YOU ALL!" all over.

Terwilliger's fine.

Oh, and then I went to the yarn store to get the yarn that I need to fill the order of thongs that I need to ship by Monday, and I said "I need some sock weight yarn, possibly silk or cotton. For underwear," and I pulled the Blow Pop thong out of my purse. I think I embarrassed or offended the poor lady. I mean she was very helpful and everything, but she shut the door to the shop, which was wide open when I came. And when other people came in and she started helping them, they got to talking about the Bleu Cheese sweater that I brought in to show her, and they asked her what project I was buying yarn for. She just said "Oh she's just getting sock yarn. Lots of sock yarn. Anyway, did you see this alpaca that we just got in?"

And for those who inquired about the thongs, yes they are very comfy and they can be made for just about any size, because they are draw string. And the butt floss part is more like butt rope, so your bum wont get hungry and eat your underwear. If you are interested in a pair, and you aren't particular about color (because I have what I have and I wont be going back to the yarn shop unless you pay me to) they are $10 a pair. Email me if you want to talk sizes, baby. TeamTerwilliger At Gmail Dot Com

The Yarn Is Cursed

I swear to god that I am not crazy.

Have you ever found yourself completely unable to do something even though you've done it fifty million times? You forget which side of the car the gas tank is on, or you attempt to balance your checkbook and the numbers just don't add up. Not because you forgot to put in a credit, but because of something stupid like how you forgot to carry the 1. The bread wont rise. In extreme cases, you completely forgot how to use the coffee pot.

I once worked at a polling place in the March Primaries, and my job was to ask people to state their name and address. 90% of these people would say "Um..." and then look at their sample ballot to read their name and address off of it.

You actually once asked "What's the number to 911?"

I cant tell you how many times I've been to Disneyland. But I also cant tell you how to get there. Every time we went, which was practically every weekend and sometimes during the week, we couldn't find the place. Yes, there are many ways to get to Disneyland, but we always went the same way, and for some reason we never found it on the first try. We would drive around Anaheim trying to spot the Matterhorn so we could use it like the ships use lighthouses.

Sometimes it's just a slip of the mind, like you cant remember the name of that song for the life of you, or you have to write down your social security number and you completely draw a blank. And then there are the reoccurring ones, like when you yell "T...Dav...FUCK! WHOEVER YOU ARE, GET YOUR ARM OUT OF THE TOILET!" You know what I mean. Anyone who knows my kids that their real names are Wty and Twade. It's probably the same at your house.

I have started over I don't know how many times on knitting this hat. It's for an individual who traded me knits for cash back a few months ago, and as the weather gets warmer I find that I am without a knit to trade. He wanted a nice manly color, so I went with a greenish tweed that I have leftover from David's Cigar Gloves.

If you'll recall, those gloves were nearly the death of me, and I was almost in tears over them. They sat half finished for months until it started getting cold and he started bitching I got brave one day and finished them. They weren't perfect, they weren't even very well done, but damnit I finished them. And just as I was finishing up the last finger on the second glove, David called me from the side of the road saying that he broke his collar bone and that he needed to go to the hospital.

Of course I didn't make the connection, because I'm not crazy.

But this hat that I have been trying to make, using the second ball of the same yarn as the Cigar Gloves, just will not happen. I will mess up on the ribbing. I'll knit instead of purl. I will miscalculate and make it too small. And all of the times in between where I mess up on something or drop several stitches. The hat was clearly not happening. I've probably started it 20 times in the past month, and I can never finish it without making a huge mistake on it and having to rip it all apart.

Now, I'm not an idiot. I know how to make a hat. That isn't to say that you are an idiot if you don't know how to make a hat, but people, if there is one thing that I can knit it's hats. I've knit probably 100 hats. Hats are my charity knit. Hats are easy as pie to make, and I have my own basic pattern memorized. So what is the bloody hold up?

It's that yarn I tells ya. It be carrying a curse. You cannot convince me otherwise.

Yarn did clavicle. Yarn made bad fail gloves. Yarn made me look like a deadbeat to guy in England who paid for a hat months ago.

Yarn will be sent back to hell's half acre where it probably came from.

Then I switched to some chunky brown wool and I had the hat done in an hour. Granted the yarn is very thick and the needles were big, but the point is that I finished the hat once I got better/uncursed yarn to work with. So Solomon, expect a package from California soon.

And now I am knitting thongs for an old cougar of a woman who will probably look better in them than most people who wear thongs do. The one I made for myself last week is called Margarita because it is lime green. I decided that thongs are my new favorite things to knit. They're fast, and they're lace work but easy lace work, and totally gratifying. I am currently working on my third, which is the pink and yellow one on the needles that I call Mischief, and the rainbow one is called Blow Pop. Because seriously? A thong named Blow Pop? Yeah.

All Very Hush Hush

Yes, he went to the interview. No, I cannot tell you anything about it, he cant even tell me anything about it. All I can tell you is that yes, he went. So if you wanted to say something nice or encouraging to him today, just say "Good job for going to the interview" and leave it at that. And that means don't email or call me for details because I simply don't have them. He was told not to talk about it and he hasn't.

But something that isn't all hush hush secrecy and silence is the first five chapters of The Fight for Golden Dawn, which you can now read at Jessie-Terwilliger.com. The book will be released on May 28th, and is my debut novel. The back cover description is this:

Rachel and Steven Kade’s two-year-old daughter Danica has been taken by Child Protective Services for what Rachel believes is a mistake. Dani is placed in the care of her Aunt Brooke, Steven’s younger sister. In the beginning of the ordeal, Rachel is panic stricken and desperate to get her daughter back, but Steven has other “priorities,” including smoking pot with his friends, telling anyone who will listen to his conspiracy theories about anything from aliens to the Freemasons, and he and Brooke’s mother who is dying of liver disease in a nursing home after a life of alcoholism.

Brooke attempts to sort through the resentment that she has for her brother while caring for his daughter, but finds it almost impossible to even entertain the idea that the man is even sane and stable enough to be a father in the first place! She soon finds that even Rachel is not as concerned as she first appeared to be in fighting to get her daughter back, as she seems more interested in shopping on her mother’s dollar and forgiving Steven for his courtroom outbursts, outrageous antics, and his desertion as a father and husband.

After his mother’s passing, Steven delves deeper into insanity, and tries to convince Rachel and Brooke of his belief that Danica is the second coming of Christ and that the Freemasons were the ones behind her detainment. Steven believes that if he doesn’t save her they will kill her. Now everyone is headed their separate ways, Steven trying to save Dani from the Freemasons, Brooke trying to protect Dani from her unfit parents, Rachel trying to save her marriage to Steven. Meanwhile, a shady and deceitful social worker is trying to pull Danica away from everyone she’s ever known by placing her with some hopeful adoptive parents.

In this cautionary tale of the fate of a small child, you will find yourself questioning parental rights, and you’ll be torn between anger, fear, and sympathy for all who are involved. The Fight for Golden Dawn is a story that will give you a new perspective on foster care and parental rights, and just how much the government should or shouldn’t be allowed to intervene in a child’s life.

The $50 Lint Roller And Why I Was Escorted From A Building Today

Today was busy. He has a 30 page packet to fill out and a list of like 12 different papers and such that he needs to go with it that he needs to turn in by the 28th, so we have been trying to track them all down.

The to-do list today looked like this

1. Call Selective Services and have them send card
2. See a man about a horse
3. Get high school transcripts
4. Get Social Security work history form
5. Schedule CHP ride along
6. Get DMV driving record
7. Get copy of drivers insurance policy
8. Buy black ink for printer
9. ????????
10. Profit!

We got most of it done, the stuff that doesn't cost anything anyway. Did you know that Social Security wants $35 for your work history print out? Aye che wa wa. He did get a ride along scheduled for next Monday, that's important. They told him to schedule a ride along before his interview (which is Tuesday.) This also helps to answer the question that they might ask, "What have you done to prepare?" He's done a ride along with the local police, and he's scheduled one for CHP. Turns out that he gets to go to the shooting range on his ride along, which is great because he's never shot the Smith and Wesson 9mm that they use, he's mostly practiced with the Glock that most Sheriff and police departments use around here. You can only schedule a ride along with CHP if you are applying for Cadet and you've passed the written test, so I will not be going. But I might try to get a ride from Beaumont some time.

Then we went to the high school to get his transcripts. The security guard out front was working there when I was there. Name's Fred, and he is blacker than midnight and he loves sunflower seeds. I loved that guy, along with Big Red and Chihuahua. I know that they didn't like being called Big Red and Chihuahua but I don't know their real names. The school looks different, the hills are a bit more overgrown than they used to be and there is a road up behind the school now. There is a building in the spot where my friends and I used to walk in circles in the grass in an attempt to make our own crop circle, like making a bike trail. It started to work around February, but I think they caught on to us. The fountain that Seth used to stand on while the six of us would yell "FEARLESS LEADER! FEARLESS LEADER! FEARLESS LEADER!" looks crooked in the ground and abandoned from ever being fixed up and running again. We saw a man...and that man looked a hell of a lot like David. I said, "David, is that man related to you?" and he said "That's my cousin Bradley."

Bradley is the brother of the boy who we saw at the pumpkin patch, the one who I took a picture of because he looked like David, and we sent the picture to David's mother for identification.

Why this man was at the high school we don't know, he's older than David.

Anyway, at home the maintenance guys brought us a new dishwasher. Yeah, I know! I was surprised too, but they said that the part that keeps going out on it was just as much as replacing the unit, so we got the sweet end of the deal. The racks are better on it and it has a water saver mode, which I will never use, because I am more of a hot prewash option and heated dry kind of girl. Don't hate.

We went to the Social Security office to find out if we had to pay for the work history thing, and it turned out that we did, so we didn't get it, but we will be back. What's important here is while we were waiting, I pulled out some knitting, because I always have a bit of yarn in my bag for times when I am sitting doing nothing. The security guard asked me to leave. Yeah, because I had weapons. Knitting needles are weapons. I'm not disagreeing with that, because you could really stab a person good with one of these things. I have never been asked to leave anywhere, especially for knitting. I've heard that many airlines will not allow knitting needles on board, and apparently the armed guards at the Social Security office wont let you sit and knit a few stitches while waiting for your number to be called. What a world.

He tried on his suit, which fits perfectly and comfortably, but it was linty. But we didn't have a lint roller, so we wrapped tape around my $50 rolling pin and used that. Note that I did not buy the $50 rolling pin, it was a gift. And I mention the price because it's like, wow...a $50 rolling pin. Amazing. And it works really well as a lint roller too.

I did two loads of laundry, including our sheets, because Wade got in bed with me this morning and pissed everywhere. Why do kids do that? Piss in your own bed, leave mine alone!

I made cookies, did dishes, had some leftover chili (but David and the kids had salads, because David cant eat chili or else he will be spending his interview trying not to fart) and I turned the heel on a sock for David while he watched some movie where they swear a lot.

Then, at about 10:30 at night, we hear a woman scream bloody murder, followed by "Call 911! Call 911!" It was the kind of scream that you might let out if you found your baby floating face down in the tub, or if a guy with a knife (or knitting needle) were in your house. "David! GO GO GO!!!" I yelled, and he bolted outside with the phone, following the sound of screams until it stopped. He's on the phone with 911 giving the address and the building number, telling them that a woman was screaming at the top of her lungs to call 911 and that she stopped.

Three cop cars come racing in and he directs them where to go.

And do you know what all of this commotion was about?

A mom and her teenage daughter were fighting, and the daughter screamed "call 911" because the mom hit her.

Cops were pissed.

Tomorrow is another day.

OMG BAB1ES!!1!!

From these...


To these...











I named one of them Chocolate and one of them Joe, but I cant remember who is who.

David's Run

He had to run 500 yards in 2 minutes.

He made it in at 1 minute 45 seconds.

He passed.

And he took a 1,500 question pysch test.

Thank you thank you thank you for your encouragement. I am sorry that I cant reward you by telling you about the questions that he answered, but I regret to inform you that I am going to have to ween you off of giving out the details about what he's up to. I will still update you on what he's doing, but not so much detail. (The FBI is watching my blog.)

But trust me, he did very well, and he interviews Tuesday. Please tell us the hardest interview questions you've ever been asked that stumped you. Like those dooseys, "Why shouldnt we hire you?" and "What are your weaknesses?"

Run David.

Just run. You still have a few seconds to shave off your time, but don't even think about it. Just run.

Run like how Wade eats: aggressively, then lick the plate and ask for seconds.

Run like the bloody wind. Run like Blowmont.

You decided that you wanted to be a cop back when you were little and you were watching that show COPS with your Grandpa Twig, who laughed whenever the crack heads weren't wearing shirts.

You've been preparing for this for years. You lost 75 pounds in four years and you got out of bed at 6:00 (most of the time) to work out.

You told anyone who doubted you, and anyone who told you to do something easier to get into like Military, Corrections, or factory work to cram it with walnuts.

Or maybe that was me.

I only did that because I have supported your dream from the day that I met you...or...actually I thought you were a little shit when I met you, so lets just say that I have supported your dream from the day that I found out what it was. And you shouldn't have to settle for less.

You go after what you want, and you don't let anyone or anything stand in your way. Period.

A woman stopped at your recycling center and waited for you to finish up with all of your customers just to say "I don't have anything to recycle, but I wanted to stop and tell you that I am glad you're okay and that you're back at work," months after you broke your collar bone. And while you were out with that injury, people flooded The Can's 1-800 number and demanded to know where you were and why you weren't at work. People were leaving gifts with the guy who took your place to give to you. You're just the guy who takes their cans. But it's obvious that it isn't about what you do, it's who you are that mattered to them, and why they cared that you were hurt.

One of your customer's dogs, who was very sick with cancer at the time, whimpered at the sight of you and ran up to you and licked your hand feverishly, only for the owner to tell you that the dog hasn't been affectionate with anyone but her since he got sick. Homeless people offer to share their food with you, and you turn around and work out a deal with your manager to get them free pizzas in exchange for light work.

You are exceptional.

There is no doubt in my mind that you were made To Serve And Protect. But first things first, you have to run like a bat out of hell to make it in under two minutes at the physical agility test.

I suggest you book it like a shirtless crack head on COPS.

But don't worry about following up with a barrel roll and hiding in the bushes, you just need to run like you have a crack pipe on you.

Fast. Fast like a crack head. Fast like a cable modem. Fast like the news ticker on CNN.

Go as fast as your $10 running shoes will take you.

Run David.

-JT

I Am So Much Bigger Than This Apartment

I have very simple requests.

I dream of a dresser that has drawers that don't fall out onto my foot when I am putting away my pants. I dream of a microwave that starts when you hit the start button. I dream of having a dishwasher that doesn't break every two months, and maintenance people who wont say "It'll be a few weeks before we can fix it, we don't have the part." I dream of having my own washer and dryer, and not having to double check to make sure that nobody peed in the fabric softener compartment before I put my clothes into the washer.

I want to be able to go to the store and buy my Top Ramen and not have it be assumed that I am buying it because it's all I can afford. Because who buys Top Ramen? Poor people. Even though I am buying it with a cartful of meat and vegetables, people still assume that I buy it because I am poor. No. I like Top Ramen, that's why I buy it. And I want to be in a position where people will say, "Hey, she must really like Top Ramen for lunch," rather than "Oh the poor dear probably eats that for lunch every day."

When I tell people that we don't own a TV, I don't want them to think that it's because we cant afford one. They offer us the one that they have just sitting in the closet, the one that they had before they bought their new one. They don't get that we had a TV and we got rid of it because we didn't want one in our home. We used the space that we freed from getting rid of the TV to put in more bookshelves.

I don't want my sister taking me to car lots to pick out a used car on a shoestring budget forever. Yes, we did pay her back in full a month later, but the point is that I don't want to have to depend on someone to help me get a car if something should happen to the one that I have. Hell, lets go nuts. Maybe I would like to have two cars. Not Hummers, Corvettes, or Lexuses, just like a good reliable Mazda or something. Something that comes with a powertrain warranty and a CD player that doesn't skip.

Is it too much to ask for a bed that isn't shaped like a U?

Can it not be a choice between pizza or burgers because there's nothing else to make back at the house apartment?

I want to have a yard for the kids to play in. I want to be able to take them outside to dye Easter eggs without every stupid little snot faced kid coming up and asking if they can do it too. And I don't want the only neighbor kids Ty's age to play with being that bratty little redheaded girl who swears and hits.

I don't want it to be like how it is with the parking situation. If I park one spot over, I don't want Mustang Sally revving her stupid American Made piece of shit engine in anger because I parked in her spot. There are no assigned spots here, I can park wherever I want. But more importantly, I don't want to live somewhere that has a parking lot. I want a driveway, and I want to subscribe to the paper.

I think I want to finally pay for my own internets.

I want to be able to give away copies of my book for free to people who I like.

I don't require much. I like shopping at Target for clothes and buying the kid's socks at the Dollar Tree. But I want all of those other things too. I am sick of living with this crap that doesn't work. I don't need a lot, but I would like more than what I have. Think I am selfish? Come sleep in my bed some time and tell it to my face...which will be inches from yours because we will be pulled into the hole in the middle of it. Hope you like to cuddle.

I've always been a "good enough" kind of girl, but I'm ready to start that whole part of our life where we own working stuff and we don't need to wait to replace things till we have the money to.

Goodie Goodie Gumdrops!!! Ok Now Don't Fuck It Up

He passed the written test! That's him there wearing the Bleu Cheese sweater that we made together. I made the front and back and he did the sleeves, collar, and sewing. It said that his score was a 49.6, but it didn't say out of how many, but we are assuming 50, because if it was a 49 out of 100 he wouldn't have passed, right? What's an F going for these days? I wouldn't know, my school district got rid of the D so it was either a 70 or you failed. Whatever the score, he passed, and he goes for his physical and psychological tests on Saturday.

What's cool is that his boss is letting him have these days off with pay. The last test cost him his last "floater holiday," so Rick is digging into his vacation days to cover the next two...which is rather generous considering David doesn't technically get those vacation days till August, but whatever. They ended up forgiving him for the second stolen computer (the one that was taken with the car) and they are letting him have his bonuses and his raise now, even though they know that he is applying for CHP. That's how much they like him there, they're paying him to go try to get a better job. Rick's whole outlook on it is "Well, you're leaving soon, but you need money now, dont you?" Why restrict their best worker from moving forward? He's earned this respect, trust me. Remember the time that he got in a fist fight with a dungenous crab in the parking lot? He's the man.

He is prepared for his physical test on Saturday, he can more than run the distance that they need him to (because he's been going above and beyond by shooting for the academy requirements, not just the test stuff) and do the pushups, pullups, situps, throwups, and even pop a tennis ball in his fist. The psychological test, from what we hear, is 700 questions long and the letter he got said to be prepared to stay for eight hours to finish it. It said that they need to test to see if there is any mental or emotional reason that he could not be an officer, and if there is even a shred of reason they'll find it through these questions. We dont worry, we know that he is basically a law enforcement machine with a hunger to enforce the law like the law enforcement machine that he is.

Someone recently said to him, "Be sure that you dont tell them that you've ever smoked pot, that will ruin your chances."

He said "I've never smoked pot, so why would I tell them that I did?"

"Well be sure that you dont."

"But I haven't."

"Don't tell them that you did."

"I didn't though..."

"Really? Not even pot?"

"Not even pot."

And then they wandered off in confusion.

I'm still waiting for the setback though. This seems like it's gone too easily, and with us? There is ALWAYS a setback. Oh, you guys are finally making enough money to be very comfortable and you think you'll have a good Christmas? SNAP goes the clavicle. Oh sorry, did you say you needed Disability? Shit! Thingy got lost in the mail, too bad. You'll have to wait another three weeks for a check. Oh you're back to work now? Yeah? You think you're going to just get back on your feet that easily, huh? Dude! Where's your car? Where's your car dude? Dude, where's your car? That's right, it was stolen! Stick that in your exhaust pipe and smoke...oh wait! YOU DON'T HAVE ONE ANYMORE! LOLLERCOASTER!!!

We thought that maybe his test results had gotten lost in the mail, in fact he was planning to call Thursday morning if they hadn't shown up. Something getting lost in the mail is so likely to happen to us, but that wasn't the setback. Obviously we dont want this potential setback that we are dreading, so we are trying hard to work around it. He showed up to his last test an hour early and this test he's going to do the same, meaning he's leaving the house at 6:00. We just want to be sure that even if a tire blows out he will have time to change it, or if a cow blocks all four lanes of traffic heading through Yucaipa, he will have time to drive around it and maybe pet its head.

Well, there was that thing about him trying on his nice test taking clothes the night before the test and all of them being too big, and I had to panic strickenly go buy new ones at Wal Mart at midnight, but that probably wasn't it.

For David's sake though, lets hope that it was, and everything just goes smooth as butter or silk or baby butts or whatever from here on out. Come on, please let this be it. Mama needs a new microwave.

Always Had The Eye

I spent 14+ hours working on the final touches of my manuscript for The Fight for Golden Dawn (it's almost here!) and I am short on blog motivation. So you get photo journal today, BUT these pictures are very special All were taken in 2001 and 2002 on a very crappy $90 point and shoot camera. So the quality isnt great, but they still have that same look to them that I strive for in my pictures today.

My sister in law Kathy and I were recently discussing my dear old Grandpa Bob who was a WWII photographer. She said, "He's probably who you get your eye from."

I said, "Well yeah, it's genetic," referring to the fact that I am almost completely blind in my left eye, along with my late father, my brother, two of my nieces, and probably Grandpa Bob.

"No, I mean your eye, for photography."

Maybe, I thought. Or I have a really good camera. The only way to tell is to delve deep into my older stuff that I did back when I didnt have a good camera. Have a look.

This is my friend Lani. I have lots of pictures of her because she's pretty and she was willing to let me take pictures of her. Lani is from Hawaii and she can hula. And she has the best hair. She's holding something that I made in my commercial floristry class, a sparkling cyder bottle all wrapped up.



I forget their names, but it's cute.



I took portraits for the band once. Most of them were really good and cute like this one.



Then there's this guy. He is the win. You know that he had all the chicks.



This here's the Golden Gate. We walked the whole thing and spat over the sides. I wish the quality was a little better on this camera, this might have had some real potential.



I now dislike this person a lot, but look at him bounce. And I snapped at just the right time.



This is my brother "Ice Blocking." Yes, you know which brother. The king. Anyway, all there is to do in Yucaipa is sit on blocks of ice and ride them down hills, so this is what we did. This was taken back when we were, dare I say, friends.



San Francisco from Alcatraz Island



Taken at the house that we spend our holidays at. And I made that floral arrangement, that's why I took this picture.



This is the old cafeteria at my high school. It is haunted, and very creepy at night. This picture is actually closest to the style of the kind of pictures that I take today.



Yeah, she's biting her neck. These girls inspired my book to be released next year "A Powdery Tattoo."



This is a garden at the Winchester Mystery House, and so is this (taken through a spider web window...)



And look at this car. Very awesomeness.

Staring Girl: Illustrating A Point

A Word Problem *Updated With The Answer!*

Answer at the bottom

Remember back in grade school when they had you do those word problems? You know, "Paul's bag has four puppies, and Sally's bag has negative two puppies. How many puppies do they have combined?" Well I have one for you today, but dont worry, I will do the math for you. You have a different question to answer.

Multiple Choice

The pizza place that David works at has been open for one year. Their most frequent customer has ordered pizza 90 times from them in that year. This translates to a pizza every four days and over $1,800 spent. Who would be most likely to order that much pizza?

1. The Beaumont Fire Department
2. A fat guy in a trailer on 6th
3. The security guard who sits out front of a gated senior citizen community
4. Chinese immigrants who have never once tipped on one of those 90 orders because it isnt customary where they come from
5. A cute little emo girl and her brother the sweet and tender hooligan
6. Dominoe's Pizza
7. The old couple who cant remember that they JUST FUCKING ORDERED PIZZA FOUR DAYS AGO AND EVERY FUCKING WEEK FOR A GOD DAMNED YEAR!!!
8. A well known stoner party house
9. Mostly naked Asian woman
10. Le Sex Shoppe

Use your deductive reasoning skills to find the answer. Show your work.

**Answer!!!**

Update! Here's the answer, working backwards from 10 to 1.

If you guessed...

10. You are wrong. Beaumont does not have a Le Sex Shoppe. Google it, smarty.

9. You are wrong. Mostly naked Asian woman doesnt even like pizza, she just orders it so she can expose herself a little more every time David brings her pizza. She doesnt want the pizza, she wants the cock, which she wont get, so David wins because either way he gets to see a mostly naked Asian woman every time he goes there. Sometimes just seeing a mostly naked woman is good enough, that's why God invented strip clubs (praise Him!!!)

8. You are wrong, stoners cant work telephones very well.

7. You are wrong. The old people ordered pizza once and they couldnt remember ordering it for the life of them, but then they remembered and they got the check that they had already filled out off of the kitchen table.

6. You are wrong. His place sometimes orders from Dominoe's whenever they have some new promotion, like that Oreo Pizza thing they were selling a while back, just to try it. It always confuses the Dominoes guy, and once they pay for their stuff they tell the guy "See ya later, chump!"

5. You are right. The cute little emo girl and her hooligan brother have ordered pizza every four days for the past year and have spent over $1,800 of what we assume is their parent's money on pizza. This is also most logical, because I said that she was cute and little, and we all know that person who can eat and eat and eat pizza and never gain a pound.

4. You are wrong. The Chinese dont tip, that is true, but they dont order that much pizza so it balances out.

3. You are wrong. The security guard doesnt like pizza, he prefers to bring his lunch from home.

2. You are wrong. I wouldnt have made it that easy for you.

1. You are wrong. Firemen are gourmet chefs and they love to cook. Pizza is way below them, and the only time that they will break down and order is if they've had a busy night and they are starving and they dont have time to cook. Just like regular folks. Except that regular folks dont look that damn good in suspenders. Holy Jesus. Holy frickin Jesus.

Bikes, Corn Poop, And Something That's Like Nostalgia But It Isn't...And Also Psychic Dreaming

Today was the Redlands Bicycle Classic. Hundreds of bicycles race through a set route for like medals or candy or Applebee's coupons or whatever. This year, Beaumont hosted for some unknown reason, and part of the route was right up the street from me.

Oh Jessie, why didn't you take pictures of all of those bicycles?

Because SCREW the fucking Bicycle Classic, that's why.

Look, I know that it's one of the Inland Empire's biggest events, but I don't care for it. It messed up my travels, and not just moderately. My five minute drive to Ty's school took me almost 20 minutes because I had to go down over to Pennsylvania to try to catch 6th, only 6th was blocked off all the way down there too! So I ended up taking 1st over to the 79 and taking funky backroads till I got to where I needed to be. Then on the way home I couldn't turn onto Beaumont ave, I had to cut through David's parking lot. Only there was an accident (mini van vs. RV 20 mph) so it made it even harder.

It's not like I'm not standing for the National Anthem or something, I just don't give a shit about hundreds of bicycles impeding traffic. Redlands bikes need to stay in Redlands. Go back to the fucking orange groves and get off of my Beaumont lest you fall and break your clavicle on the same stretch of road that David did.

So that is why I don't have any pictures of the stupid bicycles. Oh! I know, lets start the Beaumont Pedestrian Classic! Everybody jay-walk at once!

Wait...we already have that, they just haven't made it official yet by giving it a name.

Calimesa Cocksucking Classic.

Yucaipa Y...YYYYYYYY...fuck Yucaipa, they don't get one.

Yes, I am bitter. Don't mess with my routes, I am a creature of habit and I like to stick to my routine without the delay of this nonsense and cockblockery.

In other news, I fixed Roomba, he had a clogged cliff sensor which made him forever back up because he was scared of phantom cliffs, but now he is in perfectly good working order, but the dishwasher is broken. We smelled burning plastic and realized that there was no water getting in there, so it was that stupid timer thing that they just replaced. They said they cant get it done till next week. So all of the time that I am saving by having Roomba take care of the floors I am going to spend on hand washing dishes. But still, this is why the Roomba is so cool. At least I don't have to do dishes AND vacuum.

Then I fixed a stopped up sink using vinegar, baking soda, and a turkey baster. And yes, it worked. It appears that someone fed it steak and corn...or at least I hope to god that's what those brown chunks were, because there is only one other thing that I can think of that is brown and hangs out with corn. Either way the turkey baster has been demoted from the kitchen to the cleaning cupboard. Because everyone keeps a turkey baster with their Mop N Glow, right?

I had a strange feeling all day too. Not nostalgia, that would imply that I were longing to be back in this time, but I was remembering the first time that David showed me off to his big family. We were dating, I was unknowingly knocked up and not yet showing, and smiling politely at people who basically didn't give a shit that I was there. Yes, Shitcake's wedding. I had previously met David's brother Matt one afternoon a few months prior. Promptly after we were introduced he grabbed David and threw him in the pool and then held him under water for quite some time. I decided that he was batshit insane and that I would never like him, but when the chick he was marrying said that David could have a guest at the wedding and he chose me, I smiled politely. The caterers never got me anything to drink, and a lady stopped me to tell me that my dress was stunning. It turned out to be Matt's step mom.

I remember something about one of the vows, about living in the fear of god. It struck me as odd. But I smiled politely.

And then his parents drove us home from Apple Valley in the van that they later gave to us, and we later drove to Vegas to get hitched, and that I gave to David's other batshit brother Steve who fucked up the transmission to where it would only drive in reverse and he crashed into a tree while trying to drive in reverse from Redlands to Yucaipa.

I kept thinking about it the whole day long, thinking about how David told me in the parking lot of the country club that he "isnt one god damned thing like any of those people," and "When we get married, and I mean when, not if, it wont be anything like that." Nothing had previously been said about us getting married...I'm not sure if that was a proposal or just one of those things that you say. But he was right. Our wedding was nothing like that one.

And then I wondered why I kept thinking about it, why it was stuck in my mind, until I realized, that particular wedding was exactly five years ago. What's funny...or interesting I should say because it's not funny "ha ha" more like funny interesting, is that Matt and Shitcake are either divorced or in the middle of it, and his other brother is divorced or in the middle of it. (Steve doesn't count, he's not really a person, more like a pet, nor is he married.) This means that I am the last of the daughter in laws. Bet nobody saw that coming. Hey, I may not be the kind of girl they imagined that David would marry, but I do love him and I would never hurt him. And he isnt one god damned thing like any of those people.

Oh, and David woke up in the middle of the night screaming. He said there were bees everywhere and he couldn't get away, and he was in a horse corral. Ok, now get this. One of his customers tells him this morning after he had that nightmare that African Killer Bees were attacking his horses and he tried to save them but the bees came after him and he had to run in the house, and the poor horsies were stuck out there getting stung.

David is like Quantum Leaping into distressed horses now in his sleep.

And now you have the theme song from Quantum Leap stuck in your head. You're welcome.

Not much going on today other than that.

What I Mean By "My Life Hasn't Been Very Exciting Lately."

This is pretty much exactly what my past few weeks have been like, and why I have been clogging the blog with David stories.

I got up. I nuked a beer braut that was leftover from dinner last night and ate it with syrup instead of ketchup. I have found myself a new breakfast of champions, people. No, I am not pregnant. Beer brauts just taste really good with syrup, and I got the idea to try it because the scented candle I am burning right now sort of smells like syrup, so I put two and two together and it was win.

Then Wade pooped on the potty. He's been peeing on the potty a lot, but this was his first nugget in the pot. Ty is the one who has been doing all of the training, I don't know why but Wade wont listen to me about that stuff. But Ty tells him to go on the potty and he does it. They're best friends. Wade also talks now in sentences. "I don't want to lay down," and "I have to let it cool down" have been some of the more lengthy ones. And Ty sings Hey Jude in his room.

I took Ty to school and on the way I was behind a big black SUV with California Highway Patrol emblems all over it and a big "Now Hiring" sticker across every window. CHP is all about recruiting right now, they've got radio commercials, and a billboard on the 10 toward Banning that has a bike cop making a turn like a bad ass and the CHP Camaro totally peeling out. This is of course promising. Then Ty tells me "I'm not lovin' my name today, no. I'm not lovin' it. I think I will tell the teacher to call me by my other name." His other name is of course Tire, which he decided on his own. I have to keep explaining to him that pretend names are fun when you're at home but you cant tell your teacher and your friends to call you Tire. School is not the place to be called Tire.

Then I came home to make spaghetti for lunch. Who makes spaghetti for lunch? I do. I make big pots of it and it is delicious. But then my chub of meat felt puffy, so I drove down the street to have David feel it to see if it was bad. It still had two days till it expired, but you never know. Turns out it was still good, so I used it. I had to make spaghetti because David says that he's constantly starving, like he just cant eat enough food. He ate cereal out of one of my mixing bowls this morning and he said that he had hunger pangs only an hour later. I looked into it, and because of the work that he does, and the training that he's doing, he actually needs to be on a 4,500 calorie diet in order for him to get enough fuel to run on. But they have to be good calories, useful calories, so unlimited spaghetti lunch seemed like the way to go.

I took him back to work and because I am finished knitting both the Editor Sweater and Brownie and I am just waiting on him to sew them together for me, I started a new project. It's a shawl, and the pattern is called "Snakes and Ladders," but I named this project "Garbage Lace." This is because the yarn I am using for it came from a bum who found it in a dumpster. One of his homeless buddies saw him knitting one day and he said "Oh, you..." and made the little knitting gesture with his hands. "I have for you something." And that's how I got the dumpster yarn. It was in a bag and it was totally clean, it's just that it came from the dumpster, but the pattern is really pretty lace work and this was the only lace weight yarn that I had on hand. There's not enough of it yet for me to take a picture, but trust me, Garbage Lace is going to turn out really nicely.

Then I got Ty, and they played in their room after their snack of cucumber slices, crackers, and golden grape tomatoes.

Then Wade ate a belt. You know how dogs will like eat leather things? This was like that, only Wade is a boy, not a dog. It was a braided leather (or fake leather) belt that I had bought two of a while back because they were on clearance. Now we only have 1 1/2 belts. I don't know what the hell is wrong with him.

I performed surgery on Roomba that seemed to be unsuccessful. It's giving me an error beep that I've never heard before. I was saving up for a birdie friend but I might have to use it on a new robot friend, which I also wanted because the new Roomba talks and has tassel avoidance technology, so no more picking up the rug before letting Roomba down for me. But hopefully we can fix it because I was in the bird store last week and there were some cockatoo's sharing a fish taco and saying "Oh wah wah wah." David almost got in a fight with that bird because he was calling him a crybaby, and David wasn't having it. Birds are funny. But Roombas are needed, because I've gotten used to not having to vacuum. I wouldn't want to get back into doing it myself.

Then I got David from work. He was upset to hear that Wade ate a belt, and ordered them both into the bath. Then he left, and I had to put the kids to bed. Normal for us. I ate more spaghetti while going through some old old old pictures that I took back in like 2001 and 2002 that I plan to upload.

I did laundry. And dishes.

And blogged about it.

But David, he met the two time president of the Los Angeles chapter of the Freemasons, saw an Asian woman almost completely naked, and he witnessed a bum fight today.

See why I keep blogging about him?

Beaumorons On A Fucking RAMPAGE!

Yesterday I referred to the strange/retarded people of Beaumont as Beaumontites. I would like to retract that word and hereby coin the phrase "Beaumorons" to refer to the strange/retarded people of Beaumont.

Today I have another David story, and I know that there has been a lot of blogging about David lately, but it's because nothing exciting is happening with me at the moment. He's been out doing this CHP thing, hanging out with cops named Strappy, and working his lulzy jobs, where as I have just been knitting and being quiet mostly. So you will sit there and read David stories and fucking like it or you will not have a daily blog post to read from me, okie dokie?

So there was some drama down at the cans today. I know, there was drama at the cans last week but we think that maybe the Drama Llama has been peeing on the walls of his bin at night and it is attracting the Beaumorons. You should be pretty familiar with David's job at the cans by now, but to refresh, he's the guy who you take your CRV beverage containers to and he buys them off of you by weight. If your cans are wet, or packed with sand and rocks, he will either take a percentage off of how much he's going to buy the cans from you for, or he will go "Hey, you're trying to cheat me by planting cans full of sand in your stuff to weigh it down, get out of here!" The sand thing hardly ever happens, and in the 1 1/2 years that he's been there he's only permabanned one guy for it. But the moisture thing happens all the time, because lots of people forget to empty the cans completely.

There is even a great little sign that shows you the ratio of wetness to percentage off of your ticket. (He prints tickets, he doesn't give real money. But the tickets are worth real money if you take them to Stater's.)

Well here comes the crotchety old man. He's got five barrels of cans, and as David weighs the third barrel, he realizes that it's wet. He politely tells the guy that he's taking 10% off for moisture.

"The hell you are! You just pay me for my cans you little punk!"

Funny, more people call him punk now that he's clean shaven and buzzed than when he had facial hair and bushy hair.

"Ok, well it's company policy-"

"The hell it is! What's your name?"

"You don't need my name," he says.

"I said I need your first and last name, punk!" Crotchety yells.

"And I said you don't need it!" David yells back.

"Call your boss RIGHT NOW you little asshole, I want to talk to him!"

"Ok," so David starts dialing. He tells Rick, and of course Rick says that it's company policy to take a percentage off for moisture. David relays this to Crotchety.

"I don't give a SHIT what your boss says!" Which is funny because, you know, why did he want David to call him if he didn't care? "Give me back my cans!"

"I cant, they're already back there in my bins."

"Oh, so you're stealing my cans! That's it! I'm calling the cops!"

"Go ahead, they'll just escort you off the premises."

"The hell they will!!!"

So the dude gets on his cell phone, and David gets on his and calls Rick back. It's obvious that this isn't just some crotchety old man, more like Psycho Crotch! So Rick calls the owner, and they come to the conclusion that David should get a shovel and bash him over the head. No, kidding. Get a shovel and scoop out three barrels worth of cans.

So David tells the guy, "I'm going to give you back your cans, but they might not be your cans. I am going to give you three barrels of cans that you can take somewhere else to recycle, we don't need your business here today."

So Psycho Crotch counters "Well I'm not moving until you get me those cans, and I swear to Jesus that I will scare all of your customers off."

David says "You're getting your cans back, so just calm down, and call the police back and tell them to cancel."

"Oh no. Nope. Nope."

"Sir, look. I've written down the number to the company, and this site number. You can call in a complaint if you would like, but the police don't need to be involved," David says as he tries to hand him the paper with the information, but the guy refused to take it!

Crotchy chuckles. "Now you're scared, aren't you ya little shit! Fucking punk! I'll see your fucking ass in court!"

David shakes his head and works quickly to shovel the cans, while Psycho Crotch is outside screaming at anyone who pulls up "He's not accepting any business today!" He told one guy "He'll take percentages off for moisture! He's a god damned thief!"

Ok. This is obviously getting out of hand, and David calls Rick and tells him that the guy is scaring off his customers by yelling that he's not accepting any business. Rick says, "Well, maybe you're not. Close up and go to the store or something. You don't have to deal with that." So he does. He drops his shovel, and leaves.

"So now you're outright STEALING MY CANS?" David ignores him and starts walking toward Staters. The dude follows him! So instead he just kind of circles back up one of the aisles and stands behind his bins, when he sees the cop pulling up. As he's pulling up, the old man is screaming at another customer to go away. The cop doesn't even talk to David, he just walks over to Psycho Crotch, and he tells him the whole story. You know, about how David's stealing his cans, and he's trying to take a percentage off for moisture.

The cop goes, "Ok, there's nothing criminal going on here, I don't understand why I am out here."

"He's stealing my cans! He's trying to take money off for moisture that ain't even there!" he yells.

"Actually, I should say that there's nothing criminal that he's done," the cop says as he motions to David, "What IS criminal is you being out here harassing him and impeding his business. You cant do that sir."

"But! He's stealing!"

"Sir, it looks like he's giving you back the cans. Go get them, and then leave peacefully."

So the man goes over and snatches up the barrels, and straight dumps them into the back of his car. And yeah, all of that liquid came out and spilled all over the interior too. Classic. The cop is still sitting there, and the old man rushes back at David and gets out his cell phone camera. If he cant have David's name, he will have his picture!

"Oh, are you trying to take a picture of me?" David says as he puts his clip board over his face. "You gunna hang it on your wall?"

"Put that god damned thing down!"

David catches the cop's attention and points to the guy with his camera. The cop gets on his blow horn and says "Sir, stop doing that. Get back in your car and leave or I am going to arrest you."

"And don't ever come back. You are banned from recycling here."

"YOU CAN'T DO THAT!"

"Ok, well if I see you again, I will call the police."

Psycho Crotch grumbles and peels out of the parking lot. Meanwhile, Rick had called the Stater's manager, and three big buff Stater's workers came out with their chests all puffed going "Is there a problem?" Stater's people don't take crap from people like Crotchy. Any time you mess with an employee (or guy in the parking lot who used to work for the company) they will have a bunch of guys go out and strong arm you. Stater's loves the drama, in fact I think it might even be their llama that's causing the drama.

Also, Rick said that he handled the situation so well, and so full of win, that he's promised to buy him lunch. Twice.

Then later, he's taking his trash out, which he does by walking through Stater's with it in a cart so he can just toss it in their dumpster, and he hears over the intercom "Will the person who is stealing please come to the front of the store?" Classic. I've never heard anything like that before. One time when David was first working there out at the Rialto store, some 10 year old kids were stealing every bottle of syrup on the shelf by putting them up their pant legs, but the manager directly walked up to them and said "Put the syrup back, guys." And they did. Usually they wait till you're going out the door and they have a couple of goons waiting for you, I've never heard them outright say it on the intercom.

And then as we were coming home, we were walking up the sidewalk, and a Mexican lady was standing outside with a couple of jars. One was olives and the other was pickles or something.

"Hi," she says as we walk up.

"Hi," I say.

She reaches a jar out toward David and says "Can you help? I cannot open."

So he pops open both jars for her. "Oh gracias! Thank you sir!"

What the hell? Was she just like waiting on the sidewalk until a man walked by to open her pickles for her? Lulz. I will probably do the same thing when he goes up state for training.

I cant wait to hear about what happens tonight at the pizza place. After a day like this, you know something good is bound to happen.

Catch And Release

He didn't sign anything saying that I couldn't write about this, so I will. But don't get too comfortable with the idea of too many David on the Beat stories, because obviously I don't want to push the envelope too far with sharing these things when it's him behind the wheel of the cruiser. This is for edutainment purposes only.

So he gets there and they have him go to the briefing room. The officers are all sitting around a table and the Sgt. is briefing them on what's going on.

She says, "So I'm having a promotion party at my house," because she had just been promoted to Sgt.

The officers go "Cool! BYOB?"

"No, there's going to be a keg."

Straight out of Reno 911 right? So then she starts telling them about how the trains are getting robbed at night, because they park here and out in the canyons, and I guess people steal stuff off of them. Just as she's talking about it, a call comes in about a suspicious car parked by the railroad tracks down in San Timeteo Canyon. She says "Whoever's beat that is, take the rider with you."

So David meets his new mentor for the evening. We practiced handshakes and eye contact and "yes sir" before he left...waste-of-time. Then again, he figured that out after the kegger meeting. The officer is known as "Strappy." Isn't that the best cop from a small town name ever? It's a short version of his last name or something, but Strappy. I am so going to use that in a book. Anyway, Strappy is the nice cop. Lots of kids, decent fellah. Doesn't openly swear as much as the other guys.

They drive down the canyon till it's out of their jurisdiction, and they don't see anything. Blow.

They do rolling license plate checks, looking for people to pull over, but they all come back clean. So they park at this stop sign and they sit there and just watch people roll it for a while. You have to understand that nobody stops at stop signs here in Beaumont, in fact I have a video coming up about exactly what people do at stop signs, including the fact that there is no turn taking, you just all go at once and honk at each other as you're trying to make your way through the intersection. I don't do that, but Beaumontites do. Anyway, they decide to pull one guy over, and he parks at a house.

"Hi there, how are you doing tonight?" asks Strappy.

"Good, Officer, how are you?"

"I'm doing good. So the reason I pulled you over is because you rolled through that stop sign back there."

"No I didn't! I stopped!" he whines defensively.

Turns out, the guy was home, just got off of work, he was tired and nice and all. And he admitted that "maybe I didn't come to a complete stop." So they let him go, no ticket. But David learned that if he had written a ticket that the officer would write in the notes that the guy admitted to not coming to a complete stop, so that there would basically be no way to fight it in court. Lesson #1 learned!

David says that being in a cop car is totally different. When we drive down the street and we see a cop, we get all nervous and slow down, try to obey all laws. But when you're in a cop car, you wave at the other cop cars, and you stare suspiciously at the regular cars. Strappy was showing him the lights and buttons and what not, and a car drove by the intersection that they were "camped" at, so they stopped talking and eyeballed the car as it passed, then went back to their conversation.

He hung out with them at their hangout spot behind a school, told a guy who was sleeping in his car to get away from his wife at a park to move along, and pulled over a truck that pulled out of a field. At first he didn't stop, so David was like "Oh my god! Oh my god!" because he thought that things were going to get exciting. But the guy did stop, and even if he hadn't Strappy couldn't chase him because you cant do that when you have a rider. They got out and inspected the truck, broken tail light, no license plate light, minor stuff like that. They were going to let him go, until David pointed out his cracked windshield. Good eye! So they wrote him a citation and it was awesome.

There was a dead cat in the road call, but they ignored it go to have lunch. They ate in the Walgreen's parking lot.

A call came in about kids lighting off fire works, but he didn't answer it until it became "shots fired." He gets there and a drunk guy says "They're down the street lighting off M-80's." Well duh! No wonder people were reporting shots fired, those things are loud! But they couldn't find the kids, so yeah...nothing.

They drove around for a while doing nothing. Beaumont cops are bored...bored bored bored. This is why you'll sometimes see three or four cop cars on one call, and why they once reported to my loud party call with pepper ball guns. The good news is also that they're nice, and they pretty much let you go so long as you're cool with them and not a total dick. They let two guys who had warrants go because I guess it was like a misdemeanor or something. Also, they pulled over a lady whose ball trailer hitch was blocking her license plate and found prescription meds on her that weren't hers. "Oh I found those digging in the trash for cans. I didn't want the kids finding them and taking the oxyconton." Strappy told her that he could take her to jail, but he didn't. Also he gave back the pills.

Eventually they got really REALLY bored said "Lets go find something to do." So David points out a pedestrian. "That guy," he says. "He's walking at 11:00 at night and it's like 40 out. You KNOW he's up to something." Strappy agrees and they pull him over. Turns out the guy had a fight with his girlfriend and was out on a walk to cool down. Strappy always asks "So when's the last time you used?" This guy said he quit a long time ago, but when asked if he had been drinking tonight, the guy said "Yeah, yeah I have been doing THAT."

But he was cool, peaceful, so they let him go.

Are you noticing a pattern?

So here's what we know about Beaumont now. Most of the problems are domestic disputes, kids being kids, drunk but not belligerent people, people with crappy cars that they keep meaning to get fixed when they have the money, people who roll stop signs, and the worst you'll find here is robbery. Mostly car theft and stuff stolen out of cars. Lots of thieves supporting their drug and alcohol habits by stealing stuff to sell.

Except for the one guy who stole two 12 packs of Bud from the Thrifty Gas, but Strappy and David couldn't find him. He was cutting out the middle man and just taking what he needed directly.

Strappy says that our apartments are a favorite spot for car thieves. And the reason that they didn't dust for prints on my Civic is because it rained, and you cant take prints on a wet car. The thieves probably knew this when they did it.

But Beaumont is relatively safe, with the exception of the gang problem but that is mostly over on the other side of the tracks, and if you have no business going over there you just don't, so it's pretty much ok.

We also learned that the police here rather friendly, and also that their cars are not equipped with radar. Yes there are radar guns in the trunk, but they don't use them much. They don't look for speed here unless you're doing like 75 in a school zone. Mostly they want to get you on what's wrong with your vehicle. But these guys are bored, so they just might pull you over for the lulz, just to have something to do. But they'll more than likely tell you to have a good night and drive safely before sending you on your way.

Though there is one guy who is really gung-ho. Like "Fuck yeah! Lets fucking pull these fuckers over! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Another cop tried to tell David that they aren't normally like that, but then he brought up the Sgt's keg party and he was like "yeah um...yeah."

David went on a loud party call, which was dumb, and a "keep the peace" call, where you stand there and watch the pregnant woman scream at the man about how he cheated on her. But you have to be there in case she starts throwing punches...which she didn't, so it was just stupid fighting. They also lectured a young man about getting off the weed and doing something with his life. And they wrote him a ticket for being out past curfew.

CHP doesnt have to deal with these kind of things, CHP is mostly just vehicle codes and busting drunk drivers and finding weed on them. It's cop work without all of the domestic bullshit and drama, and it's more pay.

But if CHP doesnt happen, he's applying for Beaumont in June when he is legally old enough to. After all, he knows this town well. If you recycle, he knows your name. If you order pizza, he knows where you live. He's pretty much The Man.

But we should be hearing back about his test results soon, then the physical test is on the 12th, the psych test is also that day. That's where they ask you things like "So how's your relationship with your mother?" Then the interview is the 14th, and after that if all goes well the Party Van will follow us around town and spy on us through the windows and hang out in the store while we're shopping. They do this to make sure that he doesnt hang out around known crack houses or shoplift laundry detergent or anything. Monitor turn signal use. They might even follow me.

Luckily, neither of us have any reason to fear the Party Van. Except maybe if it turns out I am wrong and it is not ok to borrow internets from your neighbor's open network. If that's the case, I'm gunna be vanned.

For all I know, the Party Van could be reading this right now.

Oh, now who could be knocking on the door this late at night...