This is not porn-related so stop reading now if that’s what you’re hoping for.
I was just trying to organize some file madness on my work computer. Organization makes me feel like I know what I’m doing, or at least I can more accurately fool people into thinking I know what I’m doing. Organized people don’t need the staff list from fall 2001 or the First-Aid kit inventories from 2007. These people have long since graduated and the Band-Aids are probably running low again. I’ve stopped at the picture folder labeled “Random” and am wondering why it exists. This must be a repository for things that went to facebook back before I started hoarding things on my own laptop (aka The Pocket Top, because it’s tiny). One or two things actually went on this blog, although why they didn’t come directly from The Pocket Top I have no idea. This folder would make the most fucked up Pinterest board. We need something on Pinterest to look at besides puppies and food. So for those of you killing the rest of your lunch hour like me (or killing actual working hours, shame on you) I bring you highlights of the “Random” picture folder, complete with explanation.
Fishing on Stock Island in the Florida Keys. We somehow scored an awesome waterside tent camping space at Boyd's one Christmas vacation. It is our only camping adventure together but was surprisingly awesome. Especially considering the Keys are not all I thought they would be. Lots of floating Styrofoam and homeless vets. I don't mean the homeless vets were floating; just hanging out wherever they could find tourists to ask for money. Although if I were homeless, I'd make a beeline for someplace tropical as well. Why the hell do homeless people stay in places like Buffalo or Chicago anyway?
The Eiffel Tower. No really - not that half-pint one in Vegas. During the day I can see why Parisians were like "WTF - do we have to keep this?", but at night when it lights up it is pretty cool. Incidentally, don't forget your high school French when you visit Paris. It took me at least 30 minutes to escape the subway system from the airport because I couldn't remember that "sortie" means EXIT. I'll never forget that again, but will now always associate Paris with the smell of stale urine.
At one time I was going to do a review of lip balms because I am a hard core addict. It can be boiled down to this: go to Wal-Mart's vitamin section and pick up a shit ton of .98 Vitamin E sticks. Never look longingly at another lip balm again. Cheap, natural, and won't make you break out along the lip line - which is more than I can say for that $45 Creme de la Mer crap.
A side by side comparison of two of my A/C units. Shortly after I moved in to my apartment in 1998-ish, one of my units had a total blowout from a rusty pipe that couldn't take it any more. Of course this happened in the middle of the night. Score one for having plumbers on call who like overtime. The FOLLOWING night, the other unit blew out. Sometimes I have enough foresight to think these things will be funny later (and they always are) so I remembered to take pictures. That's Andy with the FML look on his face. Over the years my stuff has been leaked on so many times by condensation on pipes and plumbing issues from upstairs apartments, I have no idea why I don't live out of Rubbermaid totes. Life would be so much easier. Facilities hint: if the water pouring out of your A/C unit is pinkish and kind of oily, CALL SOMEONE. That's not going to stop on it's own.
THIS is a butter lamb. Apparently only Catholics in Western New York know what this is, and even then mostly just Polish Catholics it seems. We "sacrifice" this lamb on our dinner rolls around Easter. By the way, I'm Po-talian so St. Joseph's day should be a big deal for me but no one ever celebrated it or even told me about it growing up. I feel a little cheated, especially since I'm in the buckle of the Bible Belt now where you don't find fun Catholic (and Po-talian) stuff like that happening all the time. Baptists are kind of serious.
While it IS okay to use some dish soap in the washing machine if you're in a bind DO NOT try it in the dishwasher. I shouldn't even have to tell you this. But my floor has never been that clean again.
Family members and I looking stupid at Disney's Animal Kingdom. I have since seen some very impressive stunt photos (on Pinterest of course) where people are doing things like reading newspapers or playing chess during these ride shots, so this feels really lame. We'll try harder next time.
My awesome Honda Rebel that I used to own. I sold it a few years ago because I felt I had mastered the whole "ride a motorcycle" thing. Plus, I had this awful fear of death every time I rode it. It wasn't the Honda's fault; I would just look around and realize how fast I was going and couldn't stop thinking about how easy my skin would all peel off if I hit the road. I also didn't have a garage to store it in so I'd feel bad that it got rained on all the time, but mostly the skin thing. Please note my cushy seat, custom tank paint and fishtail exhaust pipes. Oddly enough, I feel much safer on the scooter even though I wear absolutely no protective gear whatsoever, unlike the Mad Max getups I had for the motorcycle. I'll regret that one day I'm sure.
This would have been a cute picture of two hot Mardi Gras broads before their parade. Instead it's an AWESOME picture of a giant sock monkey crashing the party.
You know those animal parks where you can drive your own vehicles and feed wildlife out your windows? Don't take a car painted with multicolored leaves and vines. You'll be surrounded by scary-as-hell livestock trying to eat it. And if you think bovine aren't scary...
OH SHIT Y'ALL. This is what I was surrounded by. One wrong move and I was getting a horn through my skull. This picture was taken right as Big Boy noticed The Mighty Geo might be edible. I thought it was funny until we were surrounded and I realized we couldn't move the car forward without possibly hurting or spooking them all.
Late 70's or early 80's. My favorite thing to do was cut a square in a paper grocery bag, cut armholes, and then walk around pretending to be men from outer space. Not nearly as fun now when you try it with plastic Wal-Mart bags.
Me. In Cancun. The End.
