“Why do people watch these awards shows? Everyone looks the same in their black tuxes and the women in white dresses and diamonds. They thank their lawyers and agents, you don’t learn anything about them as people, I don’t get it,” I said.
“I watch this to make sure the people I hate didn’t win anything,” Jeff said.
It made sense finally.
Rus made it back from Florida with only one extra tractor. A low profile John Deere.
Anyone watch Alice in Wonderland in 3D after eating pot cookies Saturday night? Then not want to talk to anyone the next day because your body felt weird? And you drank 4 cups of coffee and didn’t feel like you’d ever really wake up? Are you the one that was overwhelmed with confusion and violent thoughts when the guy at the flea market told you not to bring your coffee inside? No coffee at a flea market? Yeah, that was you. Cantankerous old fool.
Doug was working in the city, next to Washington Park. He had a large block of ice and wanted to slide down the hill while sitting on it. While the rest of the crew sat on the steps eating lunch we took turns pretending it was 1800.
Ask a white guy. He’ll tell you, “The sandwich is king.” But my lady, she isn’t white. She don’t like a sandwich as much as she likes noodles and rice. We go out to eat all the time, and I keep hoping she’ll decide sandwich is king and we can go eat meatball subs. She is hoping it won’t be long I’ll start craving a bowl of noodles in broth.
Who would have guessed the sandwich wasn’t king around the world?
Stopped for lunch at Wolfes diner on 16th. Mustard and ketchup, good old American flavorings, Mexican hot sauce, Vietnamese hot sauce, and Chinese/Japanese soy sauce. Must be a melting pot.
Me: is that the name of your blog?
Dude: I hate blogs.
Me: Thats funny. Can I take a picture of it?
Dude: ok
Me: I’m gonna blog about it!
Seemed like innocent fun: rolling a matress home on a skateboard. What they didn’t consider was my God is an angry God. 8.8 Chile? And a typhoon rainstorm for you skateboard movers.
The sea wall is eroding at Ocean Beach. I backed the truck up and stood inside as wind whipped the rain against the box and the waves rolled in.
This month has been busy, working a lot if unpaid hours trying to get my business stepped up a level and struggling to control my pack rat tendencies.
It has led to a peculiar existential crisis: an online identity crisis. What is the purpose of blogging? What’s this blog for? The answer can’t be “fun”. Sometimes I go to bed rather than upload a post. Other times I press “publish” and wish it had been “delete” instead. It seems uninspired. But I wordpress on.
Have psychologists been contacted for help from a patient who is adjusted in offline life but can’t figure out where they belong in cyberspace? Am I getting to the age where I should be blogging about my children instead of myself? Should I concentrate more energy on rolstonhauls.com instead of this space? I have my career to consider after all and MRIP is a money loser.
It’s a way to share, a form of bragging, a stab at fame, an illusion of immortality. Some part of all that.
the white car appears to be going the wrong direction. That’s the problem with cameras. They can’t show you the guy driving backwards down Bayshore Avenue at 35 miles an hour.
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