text:
Monday, 1 October 2007
Please Help Monks!!!!!!!!!!
Reports emerging from Rangoon indicate that the temporary detention
centres based in Yangon Institute of Technology and General Institute
of Technology (GTI) is currently detaining 500 hundred monks.
The monks are refusing to accept Sune (Alms food.....food offering given to monk
by layperson just before 12 noon as main meal of the day) from the
military junta. The local population approached these detention
centres to offer food and they have been turned away by the
authorities. Technically, the monks are unintentionally on huger
We contacted the International Red Cross's (ICRC) office and UNHCR in
Rangoon. The UN's office refused to help and ICRC bucked the
responsibility on their head office in Geneva.
Please write or Phone to ICRC, e-mail Foreign Secretary and Prime Minister
Gordon Brown. Every governments contribute funds in the running of
the UN bodies and therefore you persuade the PM and the Foreign
Secretary to pressure the UN organisations to take action on or least
ask them if they provide value for money service to the world
Please be professional when writing to PM Gordon Brown and Secreatarty
. You can thank the British Government for their efforts so on Burma
and persuade them succinctly with sound arguments. Contact details
ICRC headquarters in Geneva
Postal address
International Committee of the Red Cross
19 avenue de la Paix
CH 1202 Geneva
ICRC general: ++ 41 (22) 733 20 57
Production, Multimedia, Distribution Division: ++ 41 (22) 730 27 68
++ 41 (22) 734 60 01
UK prime minister office
10 Downing Street,
Montag, 1. Oktober 2007
Wichtig: Aufruf aus Burma!
Von Kto Htike (ausnahmsweise Vollzitat)
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Monday, January 31, 2005
Jackson Pollock vs. David Koresh
I got drunk last Thursday. Alone, to protect the innocent. I drank a twelver of beer and six or seven whiskey shots. I stubbed my toe on a coffee table. A sizable portion of the toenail on my middle right toe cracked and shot off like shrapnel. I didn't notice until the next day when I realized that I'd left blood blossoms all over the carpet. Normally I'd approve of this naturally occuring abstract art improvement of my carpet. Not so this time. It wasn't my carpet. So I cleaned it up. Since I didn't notice the injury right away I never got to soak another band-aid for my bloodstain collection. Just kidding. About the collection. Sort of. I only keep them when they qualify as art. Eventually I will display them, framed for classiness, within the walls of my mammoth monolithic compound.Saturday, January 29, 2005
What compound? Well....
Insert a rant about consumer culture and the idiocy of television here. More of the same, this time about the ubiquity of advertising. Cool. Next imagine an angry diatribe about the evil necessity of revolving credit here. Great. We're on our way. Finally, let's add something unprovable but likely true about the government. Excellent. Now we can skip straight to the part where I start a cult.
I will need the following people. Apply within the comments area.
Munitions expert. You must be missing a digit. This way I'll know you've learned the hard way to take proper precautions. Facial tics are a plus.
Heart remover. You get to rip still-beating hearts from the chests of screaming infidels. Chant composition skills are a plus. Bulging eyes, long fingernails, and bad teeth required.
Religious freak. You quote scripture to suit my devious ends. Hypnotism is required for brainwashing purposes. You also get to pick out the kool-aid flavor. I am partial to grape. Hopefully you are, too.
Pimp. Any good cult needs nubile virgins. Or approximations of them. This is your job. Promise cocaine and Jagermeister to female recruits. I will gladly supply these staples of cult consumption.
Blacksmith. As we grow my compound may need bars on the windows. You will also make crowbars for our roaming packs of hooligans.
Union contractor: As we grow my compound may need the windows sealed up with masonry. You are also responsible for maintenance of any secret underground chambers I decide upon, regardless of architectural prudence or village ordinance.
Politician. You know the deal. We don't have to discuss it here, right?
Now we all get to pick new names for ourselves. I got dibs on Jesus.
10:24 AM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm
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Vitriolic Misanthropy
I almost didn't go to the nightclub tonight. People are beginning to say nasty things about me. Things like: Steve is bitter, antisocial, uptight, grumpy, and judgmental. So I had to prove them wrong. So I went to this so-called mecca of young people having fun. This establishment bears the unfortunate name of Zentra and has a faux exotic theme with hookahs and buddha statues all over the place. And red lights.Friday, January 28, 2005
I arrived at 9:45 and had 15 minutes to quaff as many free vodka drinks as possible. My friends were at a table with drinks lined up in front of them untouched. In reserve. It was a bit pathetic. After 10pm, drinks cost money. I ordered a gin & tonic and was shellshocked by the $8 price tag. Fuck a duck. I paid, tipped, and morosely wandered back to the support beam I had adopted as my leaning post. I now understood the drink stockpiling.
Disclaimer: I hate house music the most of all dance music types, and I don't dance. I received endless shit for this all night long. "Are you having fun? I know you're dancing on the inside. Isn't this song great? Shake it, Steve!" Sorry, I drink, curse, belch, and bleed. No dancing. Tough shit.
Okay, so maybe I am antisocial. Either there's something wrong with me or everybody else, and I lose that one. I care not. Aside from the occasional attractive female with big round hips, everybody looks to me like retards trying to shake out a constipation problem. Epileptics suffering asthma attacks.
I just do not belong here. People kept asking me where to find the bathrooms because apparently I look like a bouncer. I tried not to scowl, but I wasn't grinning like a leprechaun getting a blowjob from Tinkerbell like most of the chuckleheads in that joint. I was trying not to disappoint my friends so I tried to stay relaxed and calm, say nothing cruel, and even smile every once in a while. I might've succeeded.
As the night wore on and midnight passed, the doormen wildly exceeded the fire code capacity. Claustrophobics would've ruptured vessels. People were dancing on me. Elbows assaulted my ribcage. Cigarettes were extinguished on my neck. The air was so foggy that I gasped and nearly collapsed from asphyxiation.
I left as the rest of my crowd were shivering in line outside, waiting to get inside. They looked at me in wonder. "You're leaving? It's only 1:30!"
"Yes. I like air. Have fun and goodnight."
2:44 AM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm
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No Good Deed Goes Unpunished
One of my longtime friends is a cokehead. Every so often I join him and indulge, but I'm not a daily user. I'm a casual sniffer. He's always been generous with me, and I appreciate that.Thursday, January 27, 2005
He called me on Tuesday asking for money. His phone had been turned off, so he borrowed one from his girlfriend's father. For emergency purposes only. (they have two kids) He used all the minutes on it in the act of setting up an elaborate multiperson cocaine deal. He needed me to call in and add some minutes using my debit card. He only had cash. He promised to bring me the money on Wednesday.
Never trust a junkie. Everybody knows that.
He's been a friend for ten years. I knew that this could spell trouble, but I couldn't say no. I'm nearly broke. I have just enough money for gasoline until payday. All luxuries involve free admission and free drinks this weekend. I'm teetering on the edge. If he were to fail I'd be stuck begging for loans. I've had to do that a lot lately and it burns. I feel like such a clown every time I do it. I feel defective and pathetic. Friendship means a lot to me, so against my better instincts I helped him out.
So Wednesday comes and goes with no word from him. He finally called last night, but didn't have the money. He had to wait for yet another deal to go down before he'd have the cash. I called every hour for the rest of the night, trying to figure out when I'd get this money back. He had to wait for his girl and the kids to go to sleep before he could sneak out and come visit. A grown man. Crawling out the window or tiptoeing down the stairs.
He never came, of course, and he isn't answering his phone today. Did I really expect any different? My other friends always tell me that I'm too skeptical about everything and should open up and trust people more than I do. They say I'd be nicer.
Yeah, right. Go buy a doormat.
4:47 PM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm
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Ballads About Food
Immediately upon arriving at work yesterday I was dispatched to go help install cameras and registers at a McDonald's on the west side of Chicago. There was a Jamaican guy that owns an electrical company there supervising his employees, and he told me to go eat at McCarty's. Translated sans rasta that means MacArthur's.Wednesday, January 26, 2005
I'd never had soul food before. They had liver & onions, neck bones, cube steak, different kinds of chicken, black eyed peas, red beans and rice, collared greens, and a whole bunch of other stuff. All of it was slathered in grease. The hot sauce was thin and looked like sweet and sour at first, but in reality it was the heavy vinegar base that gave it that appearance. Awesome and cheap.
I'll definitely return for more very soon. I don't care if I'm the only whiteboy within a five mile radius and the other customers look at me like I must've gotten lost. The food is just spectacularly great tasting.
Some of the food made me wonder. What exactly are collared greens? I looked up recipes online and all them just have a quantity of greens. It looked like spinach. Can I just go trim the hedges outside and make collared greens? Do I need to wear some leaves in a collared shirt for a day, and then cook them in ten sticks of butter? Somebody help. I feel like an ignorant fool. I'm sure the answer will amaze me as much as the time I discovered the oven can be pulled away from the wall for cleaning purposes.
And what about neck bones? I've found several recipes for pig necks. At first the notion sounds vile. But haven't you ever wanted to suck marrow? I sure have. Sadly, upon perusing these recipes the idea seems to be the same as my ham soup, which is boil and strip, strain stock and combine. There's no mention or instruction for removing bone marrow and turning it into a hot jelly spread. Or for stuffing it in wontons. I'll have to be a pioneer combining Afro-American soul food with Chinese if that dream is ever to be realized. Anyhow, I think I'll boil some necks tomorrow. Tonight I'm doing cajun.
I'm going from a Chef Boyardee guy to an accomplished multicultural autodidactic chef rather quickly. Well, I might, best not get ahead of myself. I haven't accomplished anything on those offensive t-shirts yet.
Well, now I have to go learn what exactly is done to make pig's feet and ox tongue not only edible but delicious. I also must learn just what the fuck a chitterling is.
Tomorrow I'm going to some nightclub for free vodka drinks from 10-11pm. A friend sent me an email consisting of "CLUB BOOBIES VODKA BOOBIES FRIDAY CLUB BOOBIES VODKA."
Well, okay.
1:25 PM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm
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One Utopian's Assorted Marginalia
I love posting comments to people, and since I'm a lazy shit today with no intention of summoning freshly baked commentary, I'm going to assemble my favorite comments into a Voltron entry.Tuesday, January 25, 2005
On Gulf War II: Imprudent Son
I support the war because everybody knows Saddam Hussein came here and used robot hijackers to destroy the twin towers. I also support the war because everybody knows that Osama Bin Laden is from Saudi Iraqia, the same place as Saddam. They are practicaly the same person. I also support the war because of the WMDs in abundance that they were going to use on Kansas and Idaho. That sneaky fella Saddam fed them all to his cats before we found them to make George look dumb, but I know better.
On a story published in the Algona Register (Iowa) on Thursday 1/13/05
I, for one, am opposed to keg registration. What else is there for teenagers in Algona to do besides drink themselves blind? I reckon if people start getting busted for contributing to delinquency because of that law, they'll stop buying beer for kids.
Therefore, the kids will take their fathers' corn scythes and hold up liquor stores. They'll plant marijuana crops in all the secret kid places that are instantly forgotten by people when they turn 18. They'll eventually become Satanic and kill their parents, take over Algona, repeal that law, and turn the place into a Logan's Run type society except that execution takes place at 21 not 30 and the method of death is alcohol poisoning. It sounds pretty cool actually.
On murdering pop stars named Simpson:
Can you just turn off your TV and end your exposure to the both of them if they bother you so much? Do your peers spend endless minutes discussing them? If that's the case, I understand your hatred.
I just don't think a knife to the jugular is good enough if your hatred burns so brightly. Maybe instead you should have them immolated in gasoline one limb at a time, broadcasting their facial expressions in slow motion in a sidebar window with football commentators announcing it. That would do your hatred justice. You might even make money if you started a weekly series on TV like American Idol, except the public gets to choose which celebrity dies/gets maimed and what method is used.
Anyways, I'm just trying to help. I really think you should read a book instead.
On horrifying celebrity plastic surgery results:
If only some genius would just kidnap Stephen Hawking and force him to create a facial hologram projector that could be worn as a necklace, we wouldn't have these disturbing melted visages. People could grow old gracefully underneath their holomasks.
Eventually this would lead to some sick psuedo-utopian society, and if your holo broke down and your true age was revealed in public, the pretty police would shotgun you out of existence, and life would suck and be more superficial than it is now. But in the short term, somebody could get really rich.
On parents finding your site:
My parents would never find my site, but if they did, they wouldn't read about how I covered dad with sliced cotto salami when he was passed out naked and drunk, or how I found those nude pictures from their honeymoon at Pike's Peak Colorado, or how often I peed out my bedroom window because I didn't want to let the the smoke out of my room, all because I never wrote it down. You should brain your dad with a skillet and then repeat a new madeup word over and over, one you never used here, and maybe he'll forget everything and you can be his special little angel again. When he gets home from the hospital I mean.
8:54 AM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm
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Bad Recipes
So. This quitting smoking thing. It has a few side effects. Before, I would light a cigarette to occupy my hands and focus my nervous energy. It was punctuation for living. Now I pace in the kitchen, peppering my meals too many times. I'm oversaturating.Monday, January 24, 2005
I'm going to teach myself to fold origami without watching my hands or the paper. I can make a crane bird currently, but it's time to reteach myself the frogs and flowers and so forth. Right now my hands are on their way to sentience and I'd hate to have them commit a crime. Like strangling a person.
Another side effect is social. As a cigarette smoker, I was a happy, huggy, "I love you guys" drunk. Not so any more. Now I'm an argumentative drunk. Last night I disagreed with anything my friends said because for some reason I had to let them all know how wrong they were about anything that came out of their mouths. I was a dickhead. Sorry, Pat. I even yelled at him for a half hour for adding a pinch of rosemary to the already disastrous soup we cobbled together.
I think part of it is the lowered marijuana consumption as well. My brain is no longer impeded by a daily intake of mental novocaine. The brain is in overdrive and I can't stop myself from talking. Once I start. I need to learn to control my mouth. Apparently I never learned this and the drugs were taking care of it for me. Now everything just pours out sans filter or prudence. The result is that I'm an asshole.
My previous soups were good because they were broth based. Last night's was made with 1 can of Campbell's sausage gumbo and 1 can of chicken w/ wild rice as the base with all sorts of veggies thrown in. Let's face it, that can't hold a candle to a boiled hambone broth. Everyone but me liked it, to be fair. I think I've just eaten too much celery and carrots in the past few days and I'm sick of soup. Maybe I was just peeved at the soup because I kept drunkenly sampling it and burning the bejesus out of my mouth.
I need a good bloody steak to gnaw on. That ought to help with these frustrated aggressive tendencies cropping up. Temporarily. This entry is boring shit. Fuck.
11:01 AM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm
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Of Mice And Vegetables
My weekend began on Saturday with a kitchen experiment. Two meaty hambones, lots of garlic and black pepper, and a few hours of boiling resulted in a hearty broth and lots of loose meat. Add half the garden, and I actually made a decent soup.Friday, January 21, 2005
So I repeated the process several times over the weekend, with variations. When the hamfat ran out, I switched to giardinara mix to provide the oil. Fast forward to Sunday night.
I'm watching my older sister's apartment for week while she vacations in warmer climes. She has a large television, and I don't mind feeding fish.
I was in the kitchen boiling an assortment of hapless vegetables in some Campbell's tomato soup when a mouse hobbled out to the middle of the kitchen floor. Generally one would expect a mouse to dart, scamper, or zoom. Not this mouse. Nor was it fleeing, hiding, escaping, or otherwise attempting to travel without attracting notice.
It stopped in the middle of the floor and began to roll on it's back like a cat with an itch. Then it convulsed, tail flailing, and the tiniest sqeak emitted from it's whiskered maw and finally it lay still. Rodent epilepsy, or the throes of death?
I grabbed a glass bowl and covered it so it wouldn't escape. No reaction. It seemed dead but I wasn't sure. I stared at it for five minutes, and then I slid the bowl around and the mouse was pushed with the edge. No resistance. It was dead. As I pinched it in a paper towel and put it inside an empty box of potato skins, fluid escaped. Yuck. I threw it in the garbage.
I called my sister to ask if there are traps to be checked or poison to be refilled. No answer. I expect she was percolating in a jacuzzi, out shopping, or perhaps deliberately avoiding me. It is her first day of vacation, after all. I left a message.
I felt sorry for the mouse. I like rodents. Unlike cats and dogs, they universally shun attention, don't smell bad, and make tiny, tiny poo. Truly a wonderful pet, especially caged. This particular mouse was polite enough to die in plain sight instead of underneath the refrigerator. Had it died there, no doubt at the end of my housesitting week I would've had to tear the kitchen apart to find the source of the stench. I would've been lucky to discover the critter's tiny, dessicated carcass decaying into soupy puddles of dead flesh with hairy pelts floating atop.
I meant to take out the garbage this morning but forgot. I'll get it tonight. If it was faking it, a mouse playing possum, I have a problem. I don't know how to check a mouse pulse, and maybe it was just passed out from labor pains, and it's splashing out little pink hairless mouse babies into my sister's garbage bin right now. They might even be swimming in the remaining tomato giardinara soup that I poured in there this morning.
8:58 AM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm
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Dogs In A Blender
I saw a commercial for a dog breeding championship on television last night. There was the requisite dramatic voice over intoning "the finest dogs from the world over come together for one special event, and from hundreds of specialty breeds, only one will emerge triumphant, etc, etc." The background music was Europe's "The Final Countdown." I recognized it from a VH1 Least Metal Moments program.Thursday, January 20, 2005
It struck me that the band Europe look like poodles. Standing on their hind legs. They sound kind of yippy. I banished this thought.
Another angle might be less disturbing. The Final Countdown, that's another heavy metal armageddon reference, right? I'll assume so. I'm not willing to read the lyrics to verify that. Some things even I won't do. What kind of violent end-of-the-world flavor could be added to a dog show to make it palatable?
What if this Westminster Kennel Club event, or whatever the fuck it is, was converted to a Running Man style show? I know dog fights are illegal, but euthanizing them isn't. So fuck the humane society. Instead of having these slobbering shedding beasts prance in circles, let's have them bobsled! Let's make them bungee jump! I'll watch that dog show! Poodles on the trapeze! Splat!
Yeah, so I don't like dogs, and you think I'm a cruel sicko. Fuck you. If the animal was ugly you wouldn't care. I don't think you give a tin shit about maggots, hyenas, or pythons. It's that doggy's glowing wet idiot unblinking eyes that create that reaction in your maternal underbrain. Those eyes don't make me say "Awww, how cute." Not at all. I think dogs are foul, disgusting creatures.
And no, I don't actually harm animals, but my loathing for certain ones allows me to entertain myself by imagining comic pratfalls befalling them. Think of it as America's Funniest Home Videos. Like people skiing into trees and accidentally racking their testicles, except with dumb pets.
My favorite would always be the gimpy three-legged dog that keeps falling over.
10:01 AM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm
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Packaged Rebellion
I have my shitty maroon dodge intrepid back in semi-operational order. I still owe a bunch on the loan, and I just spent a gargantuan amount getting my transmission rebuilt. I could've had it cheaply replaced instead of rebuilt, but the weaker warranty would've expired right before it took another crap on my cringing face. By my calculations.Tuesday, January 18, 2005
So I have a dilemma. I need more income. It's time to begin my assault on cafepress. Important questions to ask: Why is my t-shirt design special? What sets me apart, puts me a step above, elevates my product's worthiness? I shall focus with laser beam precision until the above are answered throroughly and excessively. Time for a list. I hate lists. It will probably be full of words I hate, too, like snark and blog. I'll try to stick to versions I prefer like sarcasm and journal. See, I'm already losing focus and getting sidetracked by my brain-abrading irritations.
#1. Art. I draw pretty damn wonderful tribal art. I've been tattooed on two people. Their idea, not mine. Time to get the scanner kicking. The roomie Tom has one. He's also a far more accomplished artist than I, with natural talent and formal education. I know he needs money, too. He'll eat this idea up like peppermint candy. He can open up shop, too.
#2.Wit. Punk shirts are full of things like upside-down flags, sneering politicians, swear words, and commerially hawked anti-commercialism. I can blend my sour stew of juvenalia and skin-peeling hatred to create some truly offensive paraphrenalia. The first will have a yellow ribbon on it and read "FUCK FAKE SYMPATHY" or maybe "FOR NODDING APPROVAL IN CHURCH PARKING LOTS." Maybe that's too subtle, and I should go with something heartwarming like "FUCK THE TROOPS." If people can make fun of Jesus in public and get away with it, why not American soldiers? Although really, it's not them I'm aiming for, it's the gullible domestic public. Perhaps a red ribbon shirt with "SUPPORT PRESIDENTIAL LITERACY." Hmm, Presidential Grammar, there's a good band name. There I go getting sidetracked again.
#3. Promotion. There's the standards of URL stickers on tollbooths and flyers at clubs, but if I want to get some really big attention, I need to piss off a large segment of the American public. I remember watching cable news during the Democratic National Convention and Planned Parenthood made a huge splash of outrage and publicity over their "I LOVE ABORTION" t-shirts. I need to think like them. O'Reilly can fellate me in the green room and I'll boost his ratings and dodge angry sniper assassins in return.
This is gonna be great.
11:24 AM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm
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Crumbling Smokestacks
I finally get my car back today. The final assraping payment of $875 for the transmission rebuild will keep me nearly broke for two more weeks, but I'll have my own car. Ambrosia.Sunday, January 16, 2005
Because I'm returning the loaner car to it's current owner, a tank-fill-up, car wash, and vacuuming is in order. The problem is the weather. It's below ten degrees. Any cleansing I attempt will freeze to the car. It'll have to wait for thirty-five plus weather. I have my footprints on the inside windshield from last weekend's parking lot free coke bender, dark dried scum from muddy slush staining the mats, and a lovely tar coating on all interior surfaces.
The biological effects of quitting smoking are very strange. It's been 15 days now. For the last two days I've had a gurgly foamy mucus bubbling up from my lungs. I think some sort of cleansing process has begun. Each time I talk I sound as if I drank a gallon of milk since I last spoke. It's gluey and no amount of throat clearing or hot beverages alleviate this disgusting muck. My skin complexion is slowly improving. The perpetual blossoming of tiny pink pimples on my upper cheekbones seems to be subsiding, and I have a flesh tone face now instead of an unhealthy grayish pallor.
I am becoming a human.
3:10 PM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm
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Paul For Mayor
I live in a small community on the edge of Chicago. Our mayor died recently. I don't have the whole story, but apparently there's some fierce rhetorical throat slashing happening in the race to become the king of shit hill.Thursday, January 13, 2005
My introduction to this fiasco was a mailer I received late last week. Paul Collurafici sent me an exclamatory letter that unfolds into a billowing American flag with a yellow ribbon superimposed upon it. It's the most hideous display of patriotism I've yet encountered. I love how his letter on the flipside states that "Please know, this flag is a gift. This is in NO WAY meant to endorse me as a candidate." Of course not. I only accept bribery in cash.
I'll be the first to admit that I know fuck all about local politics. I'm here to go. As soon as the opportunity presents itself, I'm moving the fuck away from this place. I can't wait to go. Nonetheless, I'm morbidly curious about this groupthink perversion of good will. That might sound cynical, but when I think about schools, infrastructure, traffic, and good old-fashioned petty gossip, I want to puke all over my own shoes and neglect to clean it off. These people are at war with one another over the decision on whether to use yarn or rubber bands to suspend those tinfoil angel Christmas decorations from lampposts next year.
These people live here, and they are building their lives in this place. I do respect that. At the same time, the sick urination upon one another and mutual eyeball scratching that both sides gleefully participate in alleviates any guilt I have for my lack of sympathy. Just look at this. Here, allow me, as a resident, to invite you to our parochial snitching club:
I also recieved an invitation to attend a meet and greet next Thursday. I'm seriously considering attending. I'm assuming that both Paul and his competition will be present in one form or another, and I have some parking tickets I need cancelled.
When Paul's brother died, he took over operation of the family tattoo parlor. I'll probably vote for Paul on this merit alone.
P.S. I am writing this while very drunk. I like cheap gin. G'night. If you are in River Grove and found this, please don't kill me. (or ticket my car again fucker)
1:32 AM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm
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The Horse I Rode In On
My grandmother is in a nursing home and becoming senile. In the past five years she's shrunk from grossly overweight to a skeletal husk. I went to vist her last Thanksgiving and we talked for a while. Sort of. The times she couldn't attain the volume needed to reach my ears, I just nodded. I hope those weren't questions. I hate hospitals and hospital-like places. I hate the defeated sadness of the abondoned elderly and the demeaning, patronizing tone spoken by the nursing staff. I realize that some of the old are childlike and it's necessary, but... It's a kick in the face to feel powerless before the passage of time. Just the way things are.Wednesday, January 12, 2005
My father is impatient and short with her. I know he cares, though. It's his mother, after all. I think he's uncomfortable because he's so much closer to that state than I am and he feels just as powerless, but also afraid. Of her death, and of his.
I'm afraid of his death, too. My dad and I used to be bitter enemies, back when I was a teen. Now we're great friends, although I only call him once a month or so, and visit less. I've made sure to say all those things that people regret never saying. Several times. So there's no regret. My problem is this: for all he's done, strived for, methods right and wrong, he's not getting his reward. He raised four children. We all love him, but the other three barely manage to tolerate him sometimes. They have little sympathy for him. To me, he's a hero. I've said so, whenever I think he should hear it.
More background is needed before I continue that thought. After the fourth child in 1983 my mother had a hysterectomy performed. Her sex drive was destroyed by this. I don't know whether permanently or temporarily as it's not something we discuss. It's a moot point anyways. My father turned to bourbon rather quickly for companionship. A fifth a night. This continues to this day.
We four children became critics of our father. We'd laugh at his naked and passed out form, probably as a defense mechanism. We joked about his drunkeness to friends to show we didn't mind or care. I remember one night my older sister and I put salami slices on his face. That made his snoring louder. It was the height of hilarity at the time. I remember another instance in the cold of winter when he ripped my Nintendo off the television, stomped outside in his underwear, and threw it in a pile of snow. He slipped on ice and fell on his ass. That one wasn't so funny. Actually, yes it was.
This made him an ineffective disciplinarian. We didn't have to respect him or take him seriously. My mother is a sweet woman but a pushover. She tried to make life as painless as possible for us. While I appreciated this easy comfort in the short term, in combination the two parents allowed me to slack off far longer than I should have. I didn't learn to drive until I was 22. Not so long ago. I moved out at about the same time.
Anyhow, my father did try to take charge of me, unsuccessfully. As a teen I was at war with him, until I was 21 or so. I was a textbook rebellion case. I dropped out of high school to smoke pot. Mainly because he wanted me to be in school. So he forced me to go back. I had to drop out three times in less than a year before he gave up. The few times I did show up sophomore year I would get applause upon entering my English class.
I managed to blame him for so much that my mother and the rest of my siblings slowly came over to my point of view, that he was the bad guy and that everything wrong with our lives was his fault.
Meanwhile, he had his career. He came home every night for almost two decades to a family that resented him, even loathed him in some instances. He wanted to repair the emotional damage but he was too goddamn busy being drunk to do it. He tried kicking me out many times. The fifth time, instead of allowing my mother to intervene, I decided that it would be good for me. A growing experience and absolutely necessary if I was ever to become an adult. It was and is the best thing he's ever done for me.
A year after I moved out, he lost his job.
At this time, only my mother, younger brother, and younger sister were still living under his roof. He had been a sales engineer selling specialized electronic hardware and components to goverment defense contractors and pinball machine companies. When that career ended, he tried selling insurance and a few other things, but nothing that could put him back into the 70k-110k annual range he was accustomed to earning.
As that awful year ticked on I moved back under his roof for six months while I was between jobs. There were fleas. I was literally itching to get out. Eventually eviction came. My family turned into sharks, and dad, the provider, was the bleeding meat. There was no love or sympathy for him, and my family members were perfectly willing to leave him forever. There was no gratitude for a lifetime of financial support. They could care less if he croaked frozen in a dark alley. So it seemed at the time. They weren't really that bad.
He was trying to rally everyone to pitch in and help pay the rent. They wouldn't. Instead they squirreled away money for their eventual escapes. He grew bitter and resentful. By this time I had come to appreciate him. We'd become friends. We are so alike in many ways.
In the end we all split. Although I had pitched in some money, my income was sparse and could not make much diference, and so came eviction. My longtime friend Tom and his mother Sandy graciously allowed me to move in. My dad rented a string of rooms in depressing places, delivering auto parts and borrowing money left and right from my sisters and I to get by. His drinking even slowed down a little. My mother got a place with my little sister and filed for divorce.
To this day he's lonely. This brings me back to the beginning of this longwinded entry. It strikes me that for all he's done, good and bad, life has not rewarded him. As time passed, each kick in the balls struck a little bit harder. Between watching the slow withering of every hope and dream in his life and the state of his mother in the nursing home, I can't help but be struck by the first lesson he tried to teach me. The one I've resisted with my every fiber as long as I can remember: Life isn't fair.
I couldn't bring myself to write about this until now. I didn't even know what I was getting at until halfway through that first bit about grandma. Here's why I can put this down:
Perhaps there is some consolation to be found. He's finally landed a decent job at about 50k, and he should be able to afford his own dwelling very soon. I'm glad about that. He tells me that in order to be at work at 8am Monday through Friday, he needs to severely curtail his drinking. He also says he needs to do that anyways or no woman will ever have him. He's actually looking forward again. So we'll see. 5:00 PM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm
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Fencepost Chode Indentations
Before I begin, I'd like to say that I'm not sure if this is satire yet. I'm in a mood.Tuesday, January 11, 2005
I've always been a big booster of dreams. Of optimism. I happen to be a person that's very concerned with this country's political direction and the effect it has on families of all incomes and locations. My father just found an electrical engineering job two years after his last was outsourced. Eviction and divorce punctuated the years between, so it's personal.
My friend Steve, the fake policeman, espouses exploitation of every loophole available to get over. He looks down with contempt upon any fool he can convince to open their wallet. P.T. Barnum is his spiritual godfather. Several months ago we got into a shouting match over this.
My position grew from my involvement in the Nader 2000 campaign. My notion was that if one million people imagined a better world and tried to make a difference and only one succeeded that all of the effort was worth it. I namechecked Martin Luther King as one example. Steve said that I was an idiot sacrificing myself and that any sane man would look after himself and spend less energy on futile causes. He said such energetic altruism would eventually leave me broken, bitter, and poor. He said I shouldn't try to help people who don't want help. The election results of 2004 seemed to vaildate that, if only by a slim margin.
Since then I've been thinking about that. I dislike struggling to pay my bills. I want my own apartment. Can I make any discernable difference if I can't even support myself?
This leads back to exploitation, selling out, and getting over. I want my slice.
I hate those goddamn magnetic yellow ribbons. I don't believe for a second that much, if any, of the profit goes towards buying body armor or phone cards for US troops. It is exploitation of Joe American's goodwill. Exploitation much the same as cheaply mass-produced American Flag pins were an abuse of Joe American's grief and desire for consolation via false temporary illusions of unity back in 2001.
The truth is, I don't hate the ribbons for their tackiness. Nor do I hate them for their false profession to help. I hate them because I didn't think of them first. I need to save money to prepare for my merchandising assault on Joe American's emotional vulnerability. By my calculation I spent $2,407 a year on cigarettes. I've been quit for eight days now. There's a start. I need to find out whoever is responsible for distributing this asinine garbage to gas stations across the continental 48.
All I need is for something terrible to happen in this country. Like a terrorist attack or a war. Something new, because those ribbons and flags are pretty much whored out and overwith at this point. This time I'll be ready, I'll be first, and I'll get mine.
So, Joe American, fuck you one and all. You like to be stepped on, patronized, and abused. You keep buying it. I'm registering Republican.
10:55 AM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm
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Sorry Chuck
I had a whirlwind weekend. It started Friday with Bombay Sapphire Gin (a fifth), two limes, and a bottle of tonic. I remember little or nothing. According to reports, I danced with a Chucky doll, broke a glass, poured a drink over my head intentionally, hit on a gay guy, and fell asleep on peanut brittle I was attempting to eat. I crushed it. It was tracked all over the house. (I am straight by the way, there's a definite perception gap somewhere.)Friday, January 07, 2005
Saturday I was far more respectable. I didn't even start drinking until 3am. I even got a chance to apologize to mostly everyone present the night before, although I'd recieved good reviews and nobody was actually upset. There were drugs consumed, and I did drink late/early, but I did nothing extremely embarrassing. There was one guy I consider a friend who was pressuring girls and halfway molesting them, and he heard me talk about what a creep he was and confronted me. So I told him straight up. He was mad. I felt bad for making somebody feel like shit, but everybody else approved. I still am not comfortable with the whole thing. I got a chance to speak with him Sunday and clear the air somewhat.
I also got a change to discuss fjords, lutefisk, Norse mythology, and Scandanavian culture in general, particularly Norwegian, with Travis. I got to discuss a hospital residency and infectous diseases with Dr. Jenny. Her boyfriend Polish Tom, a longtime friend of mine, had a good birthday. The two of us did an early coke run before people arrived and made it from almost downtown to Rosemont in 12 minutes. More cool people arrived in the wee hours to help us party and pimp a nightclub. (Hello Jessica!)
Sunday I slept through the football games. I ate lots of celery.
I'll get back to commentary soon, instead of this mundane diary crap I've been shitting out in the past week.
11:38 AM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm
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Crossover Drugs
Work has been hectic due to the departure of our closed circuit camera expert, so we've all panicked. We're hopping around like those proverbial decapitated chickens. Combine that with no cigarettes, and I've been gibbering like a monkey under shock torture resistance experimentation. When anybody asks me a question I talk for five minutes straight without a breath and explain the origin of the universe to help give my answer context.Tuesday, January 04, 2005
No, I won't tell YOU the origin of the universe. It's a secret.
It's like using cocaine, except I get intermissions. Jibber jabber yada yada this that, pause for thirty minutes. Repeat. No nose problems, either, alhough shortness of breath and a flushed face are natural side effects of longwinded oxygen deprivation syndrome. I'm hyperventilating just typing this. My keyboard is crying.
So..... there are these machines. They combine hot water and powder to make syrup drinks at gas stations. French vanilla capuccino. Hot chocolate. Pumpkin spice. I found one today that makes hot liquid toasted marshmallow. I think the intention is that you pour a little at the top of your hot chocolate. Not me. I got a 20 oz. cup of pure toasted marshmallow.
I think it made me deranged.
6:06 PM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm
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I know I have something to say. Whatever I type, I should erase all of it and try again. I noticed that when my computer explodes and I have to start a post again, it's always much leaner and more coherent the second time through. I believe these are called drafts by writers. I am not. I vomit forth and press publish with nary a reread. The next day I come back and correct my spelling errors. This will be a first and only draft. Apologies.
Last Thursday I felt strange. I came home from work at eleven, with nothing much to do. I felt dirty, so I got into the shower, set it to its hottest, and sat under the stream in fetal position for an hour. I felt like a dumpling. I could not get dry when I left it. Despite a frantic towelling the water kept running from my forehead and pooling at the nape of my neck, right inside my collarbone. For an hour. I thought about breathing for a long time.
New Year's Eve was also off kilter. I borrowed ten bucks to get into an "all you can drink eight kegger," which turned out to be an "all the $3 beers you can afford you broke worthless fuckface" two-kegger. I am fortunate to have genrous friends. I spoke to the promoter about the lie on their flyer and info line. He said "if you don't like it you can fucking go home." My buddy Pat wanted to call the cops and bust the fuckers. We didn't. I was in a bad mood, but I had a nice time. We had an afterparty drinkathon at a friend's house afterwards. I was a jackass. I drank a lot of somebody else's liquor, laid on my back, and then I laughed at the ceiling for a while. Really. I was glad to get home and sleep it off.
The rest of the weekend was spent recuperating in bed. I watched every romantic comedy that came on TV. You've Got Mail, Sleepless In Seattle, When Harry Met Sally, Someone Like You, Only You, Runaway Bride, and probably something else I've mercifully forgotten. I should've killed myself instead. I tried to make up for it Monday by watching Man On Fire, The Chronicles Of Riddick, and The Punisher but I'm afraid a part of my masculinity has permanently been scorched away and no amount of revenge fantasy flicks are going to bring it back.
After the humiliation of buying cigarettes with dimes and nickels two days in row, I finished my last cigarette yesterday. I spaced the last two apart by about 12 hours. I'm not going to buy any even if I get my paycheck today, nor am I bumming them from people. I'm not going to tell anybody I quit. They will play with me. Taunt me. Blow smoke at me. Stuff like that. If they notice anything I'll just say I'm having a lung break. Or something. They would never believe it. I've always said that I'll smoke until I keel over dead. I like smoking, fuck my health, etc. A virtual cancer advocate.
I talked some shit about exersize a while back. I'm going to bring that dusty Tony Little Gazelle thing inside and set it up. Anytime I want a cigarette, I'll just hop on that thing until I get an embolism. So far I haven't had a bad craving, but from what I've heard it'll take a couple days to really cave my brainpan.
This morning I cracked and ate mixed nuts. It took me ten tries to crack open a praline without shattering the nut into shards. The pecans I always broke. Almonds are easy. So are some other ones. I don't know what the hell they are. I still like in-shell salted peanuts the best, and you don't need tools for those. You can squirrel them.
I am a squirrel. Yes.
1:10 PM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm
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subset: commoncrawl


text:
from The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, 4th Edition
- n. A low neckline on a woman's garment, especially a dress.
- n. A dress with a low neckline in front.
from Wiktionary, Creative Commons Attribution/Share-Alike License
- n. A low neckline on a woman's dress, especially one that reveals or emphasizes her cleavage.
from the GNU version of the Collaborative International Dictionary of English
- n. The upper border or part of a low-cut (i.e., décolleté) dress.
- n. the exposed upper parts of the breasts of a woman wearing a low-cut dress.
from The Century Dictionary and Cyclopedia
- n. In dressmaking: The state of being cut low in the neck: said of the bodice or waist of a dress.
- n. The low-cut neck itself of a bodice.
from WordNet 3.0 Copyright 2006 by Princeton University. All rights reserved.
- n. a low-cut neckline on a woman's dress
from The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, 4th Edition
French, from décolleté, having a low neckline; see décolleté.
from Wiktionary, Creative Commons Attribution/Share-Alike License
From French décolletage.
Sorry, no example sentences found.
This word has always seemed to me to be inexorably linked to embonpoint.
"As Mrs. Archer remarked, the Roman punch made all the difference; not in itself but by its manifold implications—since it signified either canvas-backs or terrapin, two soups, a hot and a cold sweet, full décolletage with short sleeves, and guests of a proportionate importance."
- Edith Wharton, 'The Age of Innocence'.


text:
The USA.Talking, talking, talking. SO much talking. Self-importantmen, harassing, trying to pick up, always trying to pick up, looking for sex. Women, walking, ignoring, harassment, stares. A feeling of being consumed.
Seattle passed in a blur of dancing and dubstep. Syncopated bass in my hostel dorm room, carefully applying eye liner, hair in bunches, tapping parts of my body to the dissonant beat. It's lunchtime and I'm getting ready to go to a boat party, where I will dance for 3 hours while cruising around Lake Washington.
I meet people- the woofing New Yorker, the new Dad with a constant smile and funky moves, the smoking photographer, the Oregon Burner with holes in her fishnets and purple sparkly eyelashes. Splashes of conversation, Facebook contacts exchanged. I see two of them again.
I spend my last day hiking, out on a windy bluff, heated just enough by late summer sun, jutting bluntly out into the Lake, with views of Mt Rainier on the hazy horizon. Eating peanut butter and Ryvitas I lie in blissful solitude on the shore of the lake, kick my shoes off and read a book about Vancouver's Downtown Eastside for over an hour. I hike almost the whole park, and feel bizarrely close to tears in the military cemetery. All these bodies. All for…what? An ongoing mess in the Middle East? Defending a country with high levels of unemployment and low levels of personal responsibility? I realize I'm being unreasonably cynical and leave the cemetery, silently kicking autumn leaves, taking with me lingering sadness and regret. I arrive back at the hostel and realize I haven't spoken a word to anyone for the entire day. Wonderful.
I dodge offers of socializing and travel plans from the hostel's resident alcoholic- Jesse, age 25, unemployed, never shuts up, reeks of hard liquor and resignation. I catch a ride to Portland with a wonderfully open and lovely female driver, a musician and a comedian. The car is filled with laughter and snacks, and when we arrive in Portland we go straight to see the comedian perform. It's a sparse venue, filled with Portland hipsters: plaid, skinny jean, long hair, nose piercings, inky dark tattoos. And that's the men. The show is more hit than miss, but the beer is cheap and I revel with my new found friends. We enjoy the novelty of only having known each other for a few hours, and that's enough to give a special sparkle to the evening. We bar hop: a hip hop club filled with hipsters and gangsters. It's incredibly eclectic, incredibly beautiful and incredibly trendy. I shimmy to the bathroom to tuck my white tshirt into my short, navy, 60s style skirt, push my hair up into a higher quiff and apply a bold coat of red lipstick. I may not be in heels and a sparkly dress, but I know I can dance.
Delighting in my body. Circling, gyrating, undulating my hips. Watching my body move with wonder and pleasure. Making love to myself, flirting, drawing myself in. Fuck, I am sexy! Closing my eyes, feeling my chest conduct a beautiful roll, opposite circle to my hips. It feels so good I draw out the movement, playing with the rhythm, almost off beat and then double time, opening my eyes, smiling slyly at my play. This- THIS- feels so good. I amaze at my body's ability to move so right, in such good time. I trust in it, and it moves, directed from a place within, rather than from my head. Different club, different music…dubstep! The syncopated, distressed, warped bass brings with it a rush of adrenaline, a high that makes me laugh out loud, grin broadly at myself as I ride the air with my hands, fingers twisting delicately with the electronic treble, feet planted widely and broadly on the ground, knees spread and hips grinding with the beat. I pick up and drop off at exactly the right points, feeling where the DJ is going, matching my muscular rhythms with the electronically produced beat, that blasts out and is absorbed by the seething crowd. My new friends head home one by one. The last one, the comedian, tries to kiss me and I shrug out of his embrace with a small smile and determined lack of eye contact. Then I'm free again, to dance completely alone in a crowd! Bliss! I'm aware of the stares of men, but there are always stares of men and in my alone state I view them from underneath half closed eyelashes, delighting that none of them will enter into this space, no-one will know how blissful it is to be in my gyrating, undulating, shimmering bubble. I am self-love.
Portland continues much in this fashion. The Wednesday night comedy and dancing combo turns into Thursday hookahs, Friday dubstep with acrobats added, Saturday MDMA fueled naked hot-tub and better than average sex with a hotter than average man ("So…you like it rough, do you?"), Sunday backstage passes to The XX and better than average foreplay with a more considerate than average man, Monday a dinner date with the smoking photographer from Seattle…followed by a collapse into bed with fever, chills, and a awful head cold. Wipe out. Portland kicks my ass.
After dosing myself up with rash-enducing amounts of Emergen-C, I grit my teeth and embark with cautious excitement on the next leg of my journey- the road to San Francisco. I hit road-trip gold, finding Adam on Craigslist, a dieting trimmer who is driving Jezebell, a green VW van. He's keen to make it a two day trip, sticking to the coast road, delighting in a lack of agenda. I'm not the only one attracted by this proposition and at the train station in Portland I meet Steve, the traveling, guitar playing Texan with a love for alcoholic Australians and Paul, an organic farmer from the East Coast. Again, as I'm discovering happens on the road, we connect instantly and intensely, and our two days blur in total delight at finding each other. We camp on a desolate, wind swept Oregon beach. Light a bonfire, play and sing nonsensical music, drink cheap local beer, laughingly kick up the sand to see the sparkling phosphorescence under our feet. Adam pops the top of the van and we fall asleep in Jezebel, sharing two sleeping bags and a blanket between us. No one propositions me. I'm thankful for that, for the first time in a month I can relax around men, not feeling their eyes silently watching and devouring me.
We enter California, and the majestic redwood forest. We turn off the destination focused main highway and drive parallel, though a story book road called The Avenue of the Gods. In a spark of traveler frivolity we throw open the side door to Jezebell. Paul and I lie on the floor of the van, our heads out the door, whooping with total delight as we watch the towering trees pass over us. The enthusiasm grows and Adam suggests we lie on the roof. He drives the twisting, empty road and I brace myself on the roof of this van, grinning widely, laughing and shouting with pure pleasure. I feel giddy with freedom and recklessness, passing slowly beneath these giants, the california-blue sky barely peaking through their ancient foliage. We swap, and I find myself in the drivers' seat, steering, braking and clutching while Steve beside me changes gears. The idiocy of me driving on the right for the first time is equal with Adam and Paul on the roof, and like two negatives, both cancel each other out and we're so, so positive. So glad.
We charge down the motorway and hit the Golden Gate bridge late evening. It's perfect. Paul tries to hold his breath, Steve is playing and singing, Adam leaning over the wheel like a trucker, baseball cap on backwards and I'm reclined in shotgun, painted toenails bobbing with excitement on the dash. I couldn't arrive in San Fran in more style, with better company. The night passes in a blur, a fitting end an epic road trip, in the true sense of the word. Parked in the gritty Tenderloin district, Hazzard, a friend of Adam's takes us from a grimy Korean bar with the giggling waitresses matching the drinkers shot for shot, to a transvestite strip club: a happening place on a Wednesday night in the Tenderloin. The boys are hesitant, and then with growing admiration, attraction, boners (and confusion) approach the stage. I smile a redlipsticked smile at everyone and enjoy the show and the blurring of gender and sex in equal parts.
I wake up early Thursday morning, in Jezebell, on the side of a Tenderloin street. My hangover, combined with the growing effects of my 'too-much-fun-flu', motivate me to do what's best for my body and in an organized half hour I find a train to my Uncle's in Northern California, where my own room in a hay bale house awaits.


text:
I got this months ago and used it on and off for a little while and it was one of those products that just fell by the wayside as I just forgot about it. Then about a two months ago, I saw it sitting all lonely on my shelf and thought, hmm my face could use you right now. Since then it has become a weekly if not twice weekly ritual in the shower.
Be Fine used to be sold at Ulta but they are no longer carrying it so you can find it on their website.
I prefer to use this mask in the shower as it is easier to work with. Its quite thick in texture and the warmth and steam from the shower softens it a bit. PLUS the best thing about this mask is that when you spread it across your skin it warms and I LOVE that feeling. It leaves your skin feeling so soft and healthy. It feels plumper and like its been pampered.
I love this mask and will continue to repurchase it which says a lot since I don't think I have ever repurchased a mask, ever.
If you go try this out, please let me know what you think as well. Id love to hear!


text:
Free up space after Windows creators updates.
Microsoft recently released the latest major update for Windows 10 but you may not know that Windows keeps a copy of the old operating system after it does feature updates, mainly to make it easier to roll back the update if issues are encountered, but that it means that the old installation of Windows takes up numerous Gigabytes of space on your HDD that can slow the system down.
It is recommended to remove the old installation files only if you are confident that you don't need to roll back to the previous version. If you are in doubt, create a backup of the main Windows partition so that you may restore it should the need arise to roll back the Windows version.
Whenever you update your system, Windows will automatically cache all its Windows update install files. Though this may seem strange, this does help if ever you are needed to roll back the Windows updates. Using the cache, Windows does the updates without needing to download them again. downside is that the Windows update folder can grow in size and take up GBs of hard drive space. If space is limited, clearing the Windows update cache can help you regain that lost hard drive space. Moreover, clearing the update cache also helps in situations where the update files are corrupted. Here is how you can clear the Windows update cache in Windows 10.
There are a few ways to do it, but this should be the easiest to follow for all users.
Hit the Windows key, then type "disk cleanup", and select the drive where Windows is installed (usually C:).
look for "Previous Windows installations". If it is not there click on "Clean up system files" & follow the prompts
You can also check other entries to free up more disk space if you wish.
Hit "ok" once you have checked all entries to start.
Confirm "are you sure you want to permanently delete these files".
Windows will remove files and frees up the disk space in the process.
Close the dialog box to return to windows.
The latest version update to Windows 10 comes with an automatic clean up option that you may wish to activate. Windows 10 will usually delete previous versions of Windows 10 ten days after installation of the update. This gives you more than a week to determine whether the new version is stable and functional before the old version gets deleted. The main advantage of this method is that it is automated. Set it once, and you never have to worry about cleaning up disk space manually again. The downside is that the previous installation files are deleted after exactly ten days. This means that you only have ten days to test the new version, and also that disk space won't be freed up earlier.
Clearing the update cache in Windows is easy, but probably not as straightforward as it should be in some cases. Although we can use the Disk Cleanup Utility, it may not clear the update cache completely, so if you are going to use the manual method, you may also need to stop the Windows update service before clearing the update cache. To do that, search for "Services" in the Start menu and open it. If you are using your system as a standard user, then open it as an administrator using the right-click menu. Once you have done a cache clean it also makes sense to a defrag of your drive if you are using an IDE or SATA based system as opposed to an SSD in a more modern or updated PC or laptop.
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text:
Well, 3am Porter wakes up and had thrown up. I think it was a fluke or something he ate but still, by morning his stomach still hurt. He stayed home, even though he was the most excited to go, and the one I figured would be most into it.
Let me tell you, the process of renting skis for 2 kids and all that jazz is such a pain! Not anyone's fault, just a lot of steps and helping the kids and keeping track of helmets and mittens and boots. Gah! I'm hoping that if this becomes something we do semi-regularly, we will invest in our own equipment and that'll make things easier. It took us almost an hour from getting there (early!) to checking in at ski school to getting skis and boots and helmets. Whew! I was exhausted by the time I got them outside haha!
The ski school was great, though I felt there were a lot of kids for the classes. The instructors were amazing- super encouraging, gave me detailed progress reports afterwards and I could tell they really got to know my kids in the class. As I suspected, their outlook at the end of class was totally opposite. Amelia was begging to ride the chairlifts and ready to conquer Black Diamonds, and Hudson was discouraged and determined to hate it. I adored one of his instructors who gave him a super sweet pep talk and really encouraged him. We had lunch and decided to give it another try on the easy slopes.
Amelia, during her class, had been on this itty bitty hill. We decided to move to the slightly larger bunny slope that Hudson's class had been on. Amelia hopped right on the magic carpet and was raring to go. This girl has no fear. She flew right down and was not interested in attempting to slow down. (Gotta work on that!!). I decided to rent skis for the afternoon so I didn't have to keep running up the hill to help them up or to talk them (errr Hudson) through navigating down the little slope. I have to say, I was SO nervous! #1 it's been a decade or more. #2 I'm so out of shape #3 I'm old. I was happy to find out it's slightly like riding a bike... kind of. I remembered things pretty quickly and felt at ease after a time or two down the hill.
While Amelia went down the hill the first time, Hudson had to use the bathroom and went by himself because I couldn't leave Amelia. At that point I had decided to go get skis, thinking I could do that in like 5 minutes. Ha! Well by the time Amelia and I got back out to the hill we couldn't find Hudson. We weren't sure if he was still in the bathroom or had gotten scared looking for us or was sitting somewhere waiting for us. I took Amelia down the hill once and then when we didn't see Hudson around, we went up to the ski school to look for him. This kid.... I love him. A lady walked out with him and said "I have to praise him to you... he couldn't find you so he knew to look for his instructor and to come in here and ask and sit and wait until you were found". Good job kiddo!! He was calm and wasn't worried (which is surprising for him haha!). We were reunited and he told me "I told that lady she looks kind of like our aunt in Georgia, Aunt Linda." Always so observant.
After a couple times down the hill Hudson caught on! He was so stinking proud of himself and declared he LOVES skiing (and on the way home said "I'm kind of like an expert skier now!" Haha). We spent from 1-4 skiing together on the "bunny hills" with the magic carpet. I am itching to go on bigger hills but I wanted to be able to go down myself to see how hard it would be for them to navigate and I couldn't leave them alone. Soooo maybe next time! I am excited to take them back, to get Porter on a snowboard and to hopefully have a new activity to do in the winter besides sitting in front of the tv. 3 more years and Lulu will be Amelia's age and we can plan a ski weekend up north at one of the resorts!
So, my (novice) review so far of Mt. Brighton:
-Group ski lessons were too large of numbers
So, my (novice) review so far of Mt. Brighton:
-Group ski lessons were too large of numbers
-Ski instructors were very encouraging, helpful, motivating and loving toward the kids
-In hindsight, I'd probably splurge for private lessons for them. I may, once they get a little more confident on skis, have them do a private lesson to learn more skills than I know LOL)
-Christmas break is busy (I'm assuming it was busy... because it FELT CROWDED!)
-Ski shop was helpful... I had an old pair of skis that were my mom's and I asked them to check them out for me and let me know if they were usable etc. The gentleman there was friendly, helpful and honest about what I should do with them.
-Food in the grill was decent but kind of pricey ($7.50 for a burger, $4 for fries, $4.50 for slice of pizza It was served in a cafeteria type line to get food and check out at cash registers)
-Everyone was super helpful and friendly- they have really good staff there!
-We only explored the 2 hills with the magic carpet so I can't comment on any of the ACTUAL ski hills HAHA!
-Ski rental employees were super helpful and friendly as well. (This was probably the most hassle with the 2 kids.... going through to get them fitted for everything etc. We're going to look into Junior Has A Fit program with Boyne Country Sports to avoid rentals in the future)
All in all... we had a great time and can't wait to go back again!
All in all... we had a great time and can't wait to go back again!


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The Jerome L. Greene Performance Space
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Spectate. Party. Vote. Be there!
Be a part of New York City's emerging music scene at the fourth season of Battle of the Boroughs in The Greene Space. Come hear great music and inspiring stories from a wide range of talented up-and-coming artists. Don't miss the chance to say "I saw them back when…" and actually mean it! See the full lineup of contestants here.
Did we mention it's also a party?
Friday nights at the Battle of the Boroughs, MC'd by WQXR host Terrance McKnight. are a great way to start your weekend. Come join the fun and enjoy wine, local beer and snacks on the house!
Staten Island Winner! Find out which act voters chose to represent the borough in The Ultimate Battle.
Watch on-demand video! See the entire Staten Island concert here.


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Pada masa prasejarah, ketika cuaca cukup dingin untuk membekukan permukaan sebuah danau, kolam, atau sungai, es akan langsung tenggelam ke dasar. Lalu ketika cuaca menghangat, kehangatan itu mungkin tidak berhasil melelehkan semuanya karena es tersebut ter-isolasi oleh air yang berada di atasnya. Musim dingin berikutnya akan menambah satu lapis es lagi hingga ke dasar, dan begitu seterusnya.
Bees are insects. There are about 20.000 species of kinds of bees. They live everywhere in the world exceept on high mountains, in the Arctic and Antartic, and on some small island in the ocean.
Some bees are as small as 0,08 inch (2 millimetres). However, some bees are as big as 1,6 inches (4 centimetres). Bees come in many colours, black, gray, yellow, red, green, or blue. Most bees live alone. They are called solitary bees. Meanwhile, some bees lives in groups called colonies. They are social bees.
Bees have three pairs of legs and four wings. Like all insects, they have a head, chest and abdomen. They have mouthpars and a tongue for collecting nectar. They carry nectar in an organ called a honey stomach.
Moreover, bees have special wings that let them fly like a helicopter. They can fly backward, fordward, sideways, or stay in one place in the air.
In addition, bees have three regular eyes and two compound eyes. Their compound eyes have many lenses. Furthermore, bees can see colours and patterns. This helps them find flowers.
Odd Australian Creatures
The emus are large birds but they can't fly. They live all over Australia in a grassland area. The emus eat grass, leaves and small insects. They weigh around 39 Kg, but some weigh as much as 50 Kg.
These birds have three toes on their feet and very long legs. They can run very fast - up to 50 Km per hour.
The female emus usually lay about 20 eggs. The eggs are large and dark green coloured. Meanwhile the male emus sit on the eggs in the large nest until the eggs hatch. They sit on the eggs for around 7-8 weeks. They don't leave the nest for this time. When the eggs hatch, the male emus look after the babbies for about six mounths. Therefore, the female emus do not care for the babbies.


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I tried another slow cooker recipe from my favorite crock pot cooking blog A Year of Slow Cooking . It really was soooo easy and I think I had everything on hand for the meal!!!!!
2-3 pound beef or pork roast
1 TBL dried onion flakes or 1 med yellow onion diced
2 TBL Soy Sauce
1 16oz Whole Berry Cranberry Sauce
In a 4qt slow cooker place meat (frozen is fine) and add onion and soy sauce. Pour in entire can of cranberry sauce over the top.
Cover and cook on low for 7-9 hours or on high for 5-6 hours. If you are cooking on high you may need to "help" the meat by taking it out 1 hour before serving and cut into chunks and put back in sauce. Serve with mash potatoes and a green salad!
***CCG notes***** This was sooooo yummy. The cranberry sauce gave it a great tangy flavor and these are items that you can keep in your pantry/freezer all the time!!!


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At the beginning of this week's recording, Pastor Delle reads a poem written by a recently decease member of Rincon Congregational, UCC. Following the sermon, Pastor Delle shares a Daily Devotional from the UCC. You can sign up to receive the Daily Devotionals here
"So it is that the life force may take possession of a man-- so that in the end he may be possessed by something greater, no longer at all belonging to himself."
― Wendell Berry, "Jayber Crow"
Reading: Luke Luke 8: 26-39
Leave a Reply.
January 2019
The Rev. Dr. Delle McCormick
Senior Pastor of Rincon Congregational UCC, Spiritual Director, Reiki Master, CAPCITAR practitioner for Healing and Transforming Trauma, and Pace e Bene Agent for Non-violent Change, Tucson Clergy Against Racial Profiling.


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Perth: The on-pitch beer party by the WACA staff, hours before the Perth match, is an insult to Test cricket and a political disaster, a media report has said.
An Indian TV channel showed footage of a few men and women sitting and drinking beer on the WACA pitch, the night before the Perth Test between India and Australia.
The WACA curator had said it was just a customary celebration after a good work ahead of the match.
However, a report in `Daily Telegraph` slammed the behaviour by the WACA staff.
"Australians it seems will drink anytime anywhere without any respect or regard. Is there anything more sacred or central to a Test match than the pitch on the evening before the match?" the report asked.
"What an insult to Test cricket and the visiting Indian team," it added.
The report lauded Curator Cameron Sutherland`s stupendous job in preparing a lively pitch for the match but was critical of his and his team`s behaviour.
"Curator Cam Sutherland, who has done a terrific job rebuilding the WACA pitch into a fast and lively strip, went out into the middle and took the covers off for 10 minutes to check his handiwork. Staff having a traditional pre-Test drink followed him out there. No big deal they thought."
"But this was and is a political disaster." Malcolm Conn stated in his article that the incident would affect Australia`s image and also took a dig at the so called heavy security at WACA.
"The more hysterical, nationalist elements of a large and diverse Indian cricket media will jump on every opportunity to reinforce the undercurrent of Australia as an arrogant, racist country."
"So when overzealous and heavy-handed security at the WACA is imposed on those outside the fence, including the 100 strong Indian media corps, what are they to think of Australians allowed to wander around on the pitch drinking?"
The writer was also critical of WACA chief executive Graeme Wood`s remarks that his staff did nothing wrong.
"Wood should know better than most about international incidents. He was part of the Australian touring team to Pakistan in 1988 which threatened to return home because of perceived biased umpiring."
"Surely Wood can't honestly believe that vision of his staff drinking on the Test pitch leading up to one of the very few big days in the year at his ground is the type of image Australia should be presenting to the cricket world."


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Usted tiene derechos que nadie puede quitarle. Quien lo haga sería elegible para una demanda por su parte. Esos derechos incluyen comprar coches de segunda mano útiles. La ley le da derecho a cierta información crítica que necesita para tomar buenas decisiones. Muchas veces, sin embargo, el vendedor puede negarle el acceso a la información correcta. De hecho, algunos vendedores te alimentan con mentiras y medias verdades en un intento por convencerte de que compres el auto usado. Es por esta razón que necesita representación legal. Un abogado lo ayuda a conocer sus derechos y le ofrece la protección que tanto necesita.
A continuación se detallan algunos de los derechos que su representante legal ayudaría a proteger en su nombre.
Derechos al comprar en concesionarios de automóviles
La ley ofrece más protección a los compradores que obtienen sus automóviles usados de los concesionarios. Los vendedores privados son una propuesta más arriesgada, pero eso no debería disuadirlos de que les compren si así lo desean. La ley espera que el distribuidor venda autos de segunda mano que sean de calidad satisfactoria. Los coches también deberían ser aptos para el propósito para el que los necesita. Lo que es más, los automóviles deben coincidir con la descripción del distribuidor. Todo sobre el automóvil debe ser exactamente como lo describió el concesionario.
Si el distribuidor no cumple con ninguno de estos requisitos legales, entonces su abogado estaría perfectamente para iniciar una demanda. El propósito de la demanda sería obligar al concesionario a devolver el dinero que pagó por el automóvil. El coche no debe descomponerse al menos 30 días después de la compra. Sin embargo, algunas fallas pueden surgir después de un mes. Siempre y cuando no ocurran después de seis meses, se justificará que solicite un reembolso, un reemplazo o una reparación al distribuidor. Dado que usted no puede pensar en tales asuntos por su cuenta, el abogado le ofrecerá la orientación que necesita.
Derechos al comprar de vendedores privados
Puede comprar coches de segunda mano de vendedores privados. La ley le permite hacer eso a pesar de los muchos riesgos asociados con esta opción. Necesitas representación legal debido a esos riesgos. Aquí, sus derechos incluyen comprar un automóvil que coincida con la descripción del vendedor. Dos, también tiene derecho a un coche apto para circular. Por último, el vendedor debe ser el propietario. A diferencia de cuando compra a un distribuidor, usted es responsable de probar el automóvil y asegurarse de que esté en la mejor forma posible. Sin embargo, necesita un abogado para garantizar que todo el proceso se desarrolle sin problemas.
Póngase en contacto con su abogado para solicitar la representación legal que necesita para comprar coches de segunda mano en Mallorca.
How to Screen Potential New Housemates in Manchester
For a number of reasons, your current flat share in Manchester may be disrupted by a member leaving for new pastures. This leaves you looking for a replacement and because there are so many looking to house share, the main problem lies in finding the right person. How do you know who will fit in with you. Here are a few things when screening a new housemate to ensure the best experience.
What they do
This person will be sharing the bills and rent for the same house you do. As such, the first question you should ask is what they do for a living. If they are in between jobs, you have good reason to be skeptical. Otherwise, a 9-5 routine is good as it means that they will be able to pay rent and bills on time.
Their background
You don't want to ask too much about someone as it is rude and you may scare a good roommate away. However, there are a few things you are entitled to ask. You will want to know about their previous work, where they come from and if they have a criminal past.
Finding out about someone's hobbies can be a great bonding moment for both of you, since you may discover that you love live music or play sports. Maybe you both like to practice DJing in the early hours of the morning or play drums. Whatever the case, you want to make sure that their hobbies don't make your life difficult or yours difficult to live with for them.
Do they work from home?
The advancement of technology has made it possible for many people to work from home. They don't have to commute from the office as long they have internet, a computer and other tools. But in the confines of a snug house share, working from home may prove a challenge if a number of your roommates also operate from home.
This is a huge contention depending on whether other people in the house smoke or not. It is also important to note that many landlords don't allow smoking in their premises and if contemplating someone who does, it's worth considering where they could smoke if they lived with you. Rooms to rent Manchester may not seem easy to find especially to be smoking free.
Do they have a partner?
This is can be great or disastrous in a new housemate. Some may move in as a couple and ultimately crowd the bathroom, living room and kitchen. There is also the issue of extreme discomfort when arguments break out. Others will be easy going and pass by with their significant other from time, not bothering you at all.
Three Insurance Services All Adults in the US Must Have
Americans have access to various types of insurance services. Often, these options can leave them feeling confused, overwhelmed and unable to settle on a single choice. Nevertheless, some insurance services are mandatory for all American adults, even if they don't realize it yet. Some of the most popular ones with Americans are cell phone insurance, mortgage protection, longevity insurance, disability and whole life among others.
Insurance has so many advantages, but only if you choose the right policy.
Here are the three insurance services you must have today.
Renters/Home Insurance
This type of insurance covers you in your home. It covers loss of use, personal property and liability. Some insurers consider Renters Insurance a separate policy from Home Insurance, and that's true. They only share a few similarities. Where possible, get both of them. Alternatively, get it from insurers who lump the two policies together. Obtain this insurance the moment you decide to move into your own house.
You need this type of insurance for the liability cover it offers.
Expand the liability protection with personal injury endorsement.
Health Insurance
Health insurance is one of the most overpriced policies you can ever take. Nonetheless, that doesn't mean you should forget about taking it. As an American adult, you should never cruise through life without health insurance. Your personal net worth will take a massive financial hit from which you may never be able to recover. American adults have various ways of getting this insurance. They can obtain:
- Private health insurance
- Employer-sponsored health insurance
- Government-sponsored Medicare or Medicaid
Health insurance restores benefits and is open for lifelong renewal.
Car Insurance
Car insurance covers the vehicle you use. It also covers you in case of an accident. These days, American adults may face insurmountable difficulties trying to buy and drive a car without valid auto insurance. The authorities consider it illegal to drive a car without insurance. More importantly, the insurance must be valid and not expired. You have to keep renewing it every time it expires.
Lack of a valid car insurance can ruin you financially.
As a young adult, you have the option of being in your parent's auto insurance cover.
Therefore, purpose to take these three types of insurance covers. Without them, your life as an American adult can be quite complicated. Health insurance, car insurance, and renters or home insurance will always determine the kind of life you live as an adult. Without them, expect the unexpected, especially where your finances are concerned. Avoid falling into financial ruins by taking advantage of these insurance services in the United States.
4 Marketing Tips to Attract Tenants to Your Vacant Property
The way you market your property has a big influence on the kind of tenants you attract. As a landlord, you could be facing two choices in regards to your vacant property. You can let it remain vacant as you wait for your ideal tenant (often the right rent), or fill up the vacant fast with rents lower than you expected. But with the right marketing tactics, you could have both; attract well-paying tenants quickly. How can you do this?
Proper property preparations
First impressions matter. If prospective clients are not impressed by what they see, they may haggle for low rents, or look elsewhere. Good preparation involves making basic repairs, basic sprucing and working on curb appeal.
- Simple repairs include filling cracks, chips and dents on the floor and walls. Plumbing leaks should also be fixed.
- Basic sprucing jobs include applying a fresh coat of paint on the walls and ceiling if possible.
- Changing fixtures like faucets and bulbs can also change the look of your house.
For a property that has recently been vacated, you need professional end of tenancy cleaning services. This is the best guarantee that the house is cleaned from top to bottom right. Ensure that the cleaning services touch every corner including beneath furniture items. Any lingering smells should also be dealt with.
Work on Kerb appeal includes mowing the lawn, weeding the garden, cleaning the driveway and basic landscaping. A fresh coat of paint on the siding, window and door sills can alter the appearance of your house radically.
Write pulling ad copy
Catch the attention of your prospective tenants with attractive details. You should list the usual information including the number of rooms, rent, deposit, the location of property and contacts. Go a step further and include interesting details like ease of commute, amenities in the area, and any discounts you have. Something like free internet for the first 6 months would be very appealing to student tenants.
Take attractive photos and video
Use your smartphone to take high definition photos and videos. Ensure to highlight the strong points of the property, for example, a big living room. If you are targeting premium tenants, it would be advisable to invest some money in a professional photographer. A 360-degree video virtual tour of the property can be very appealing to prospective clients.
Know your placement
Place your ads according to your target tenants. If you are targeting students, free classifieds sites will work well. If you are targeting young professionals, you might want to put up Facebook ads. You can experiment with different ad copy for different places to get your desired tenants.
How Does a Green Cleaning Services Look Like?
Green places are increasingly more preferred by young and trendy tenants. As a landlord using green cleaning services not only makes you attract this clientele but also makes your units healthier living spaces. If you are looking for post end of tenancy cleaning services to do cleaning services, you will find plenty of cleaning services claiming to be green. How do you know whether a cleaning service practices green cleaning?
Green products
While green cleaning products are made from natural ingredients, it takes time to source these ingredients in sufficient quantities for whole house cleaning. If a cleaning company has taken the effort to formulate green cleaning products it is a credible green service, some of these products include:
- Baking soda for cleaning sinks
- Vinegar for washing away mold, fungi and water stains.
- Lemon oil for polishing furniture, chrome and other surfaces
- Bona for cleaning floors
- Green multipurpose cleaners – These are cleaners that can be safely used around the house. These cleaning products are usually formulated from vinegar, baking soda, salt and lemon. For bathroom cleaning, essential oils are added for fragrance.
Green tools and equipment
Green cleaning goes beyond using green products. A cleaning service should use tools that encourage sustainability and environmental conservation. A post end of tenancy cleaning services should some of these tools and equipment including:
- Microfiber mops and towels – This type of fabric is made by closely knitting natural fibres together. They capture dust and dirt, and microscopic organisms better than sponges. Using microfiber mops and towels is better than using sponges, which are made from petroleum products, and retain bacteria.
- Energy saving cleaners – check out cleaning equipment for energy saving rating like the ENERGY star. There is also the CRI green label that can be found on hoovers and vacuums.
Green business operations
The way an end of tenancy cleaning London service conducts its business operations can tell you a lot about its convictions on green practices. Some of the green business practices that you should see include:
- Use of recycled paper in the offices
- Reduction of paper correspondence and documentation, for example, your price quotes and invoices should be on email instead of conventional mail
- Carpooling for employees and using vehicles that are fuel efficient
There are several benefits of using green cleaning services, among them:
- Health reasons – Green cleaning products are less likely to trigger allergies
- Better fragrances – The natural fragrances of green cleaning products are softer than artificial fragrances.
- Environmental friendly – These products break down quicker in the environment posing less of a threat as pollutants.
Why Does Your Small Business Need Insurance Services?
There is no way of predicting the future, no matter how accurate business forecast may be. For a small business, predictability and stability are more important as the ability to absorb shock is low. If flooding occurred, for example, sweeping away the bigger part of the available stock, it becomes hard to bring back the business back to normal, and chances are that this will force closure. This is why a small business needs insurance services US providers to provide this guarantee of predictability and business stability. Why does a small business need insurance services?
For legal reasons
If your business has employees, you are required to have workers' compensation, disability or unemployment insurance depending on what you do and where you are located. This is to protect your employees as well as customers on the premises. Failure to take up insurance when legally mandated to do so can attract fines and penalties.
Protecting business assets
In an accident, for example, your business may lose all its movable assets. For a small business, replacing these assets can eat into the working capital such that it is not able to cover its cash flow adequately.
Taking up insurance guarantees that your business is able to bounce back from a catastrophic loss. Insurance compensation takes the place of the working capital that would have been used, and your business goes on with minimal interruptions.
Required for business
People doing business with a small startup may require a guarantee that it is able to deliver or meet its part of the obligation. Some contracts that often require insurance services include:
- Loan and other financial borrowing contracts
- Long-term supply of servicing contracts
- Equipment Hire
Having insurance even when it is not mandatory, adds a bit of comfort to your clients. They know that in any eventuality, they are covered for any loses, damages, or unfulfilled contracts.
Protection against suits
Accidents can and do happen on business premises. Your business could also be unable to complete a contract. If a legal suit is lodged against your business when it is clearly at fault, the compensation demanded can lead to a financial setback that is irrecoverable. By taking up liability insurance, your small business is shielded by the ability of insurance services US providers' bigger financial ability to raise the compensation.
Attract good employees
Many people will look at the benefits package that comes with the job. If you offer health, life or disability insurance, you are able to attract a good employee because the position comes with a measure of security for the future.
What Insurance Services Are Most Useful for a Small Business?
Every business is continually exposed to risks during its operations. These risks range from injuries of customers and employees on the premises, natural calamities, unfulfilled contracts to damaged assets among others. For a small business recovering when any of these risks actualizes, can become difficult, or force the business to close. A small business needs protection against these risks. Insurance services US providers have different insurance packages suitable for different risks. A small business would require the following insurance cover packages as a priority.
Workers' compensation insurance
If you have any number of employees, you should take up workers' compensation insurance. In most states, this is a legal requirement. This type of insurance provides cover for injuries in the workplace, disability, and death. Even low-risk workers can suffer illnesses such as eyesight failure or carpal tunnel syndrome which can turn out very expensive to compensate.
Property insurance
This type of insurance protects your business assets including the premises, office equipment, tools, inventory and whatever else that the business uses in day to day operations. This insurance covers fire, smoke damage, theft, and vandalism. It is commonly bundled with business interruption insurance.
General liability insurance
This type of insurance is needed to cover damages that may be caused by the business' services, assets or employees. If the company car is involved in an accident, for example, or if a business' employee damaged property when working for a client, this insurance would cover the compensation.
Professional liability insurance
Your business could commit errors or omissions in executing a contract. This type of insurance coverage protects your business from negligence claims arising from these errors and omissions. Different industries have different compensations schemes for this type of insurance.
Product liability insurance
If you are a manufacturer, you need this insurance coverage for your products in case there are claims from damage caused by your products.
Commercial Vehicle insurance
This insurance covers business vehicles carrying employees, assets, and products. You can also take up non-owned auto liability insurance if employees are using their cars.
Business owner's policy
This is usually a cover for common risks that face a business. Insurance services US providers will often allow a business owner to pick what is to be included in the package. A standard BOP insurance cover would include liability insurance, property insurance, business interruption insurance, vehicle cover and crime insurance. You can pick what you need depending on what your business does, where it is located and your clients.


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Bake Box comes with beautifully illustrated recipe cards, the baking equipment you will need to complete these six projects along with other important items such as the coloured icing for the cookies, silicon bundt-type baking mould to make the cake and loads more.
The boxes will be suitable for beginner bakers and more experienced as well. The subscription will make a great gift for a new mother with limited time to think of the ideas to bake but will guide her along. Also a newly retired mum or grandmother would love the time to get their hands on this subscription as well.
The subscription will cost £14.99 per month and will include more than £40.00 worth of equipment to help you build a fantastic collection plus you get membership to Bake Club.
Although I was excited to review this box, my daughter came to stay for the weekend and hijacked my first box. I said I didn't mind as long as she provided the review for you and here is what she had to say
My first impression was I couldn't believe how much was in the box! I had all the equipment to make 6 different projects.
There was also an envelope with the 6 recipes and pictures so you see what they should look like.


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The World's Largest Coalition of Nontheists and Nontheist Communities!
When I was watching this video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IxNP228FEso&feature=g-user-u and they were talking about derogatory it got me thinking. What's our derogatory term? Is it Satan Worshiper? If black people are like "hey don't use the "n" word", then maybe we should be like "hey don't call me a Satan worshiper."
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Other Industries
So many uses.
We've deployed SMS text messaging in some novel ways. Sometimes it's not about making sales. But it's always about cutting costs.
We've clients in farming related businesses. They use automated text messages to alert farmers of serious weather conditions. It's proactive claim management. Prevent the loss before it can happen. Farmers find about a flood before it arrives. Time enough to move stock and equipment to higher ground. Car dealers learn a severe hailstorm is coming. They can protect their vehicles and save their livelihood.
Schools use text messages for parent and student communication. They check up on pupil supplied notes to be certain the parent wrote it. Or alert parents their child hasn't turned up for school. Two-way messaging lets the parents tell the school the child is safe at home. Or quickly act if they're not.
Resource and mining companies use text messages for incident alerts, breakdowns and proactive maintenance.
The opportunities are endless. Productivity can always be improved. Costs can always be reduced. Talk to us. We'll help establish the business case. Show you great ROI. Help you integrate into your software applications as needed.
Use it, or lose it.