Midnight at the Double Douche chapter 3

We pulled up behind the vehicle that had been leaking propaganda posters as stealthily as a classic Aston Martin powered by an Audi V-10, piloted by some sort of super powered uber being and containing two people whacked out of their skulls on unknown substances can.

Thankfully the guy who was piloting it paid us no mind. Which seemed like a good thing. I had horrible plans in mind for his cargo, his vehicle and him as well. How dare this man disturb my hallucination filled evening with his propaganda!

I stumbled out of the car and wondered why I was having trouble using my legs. I looked to Jon who seemed to be having the same problem, his face had the consistency of a stretch Armstrong doll in the midst of a napalm attack. Flesh seemed to drip down his face as his muscles relaxed in a manner one could charitably describe as unhealthy.

He stared back at me and we communicated by way of telepathy. "Don't worry." he said in a mental monotone.  "it's a side effect it'll wear off right about .....now."

Suddenly I was standing and feeling refreshed. Sure the world had turned the sort of colors one usually sees when you give a three year old day glo paints. Of course there was also the fact that a man sized pink dragon was flying after a laughing nymph through the parking lot but once you got past that everything was pretty much back to normal.

Kat meanwhile was looking over the whole scene of the parking. Overloaded with pickup trucks, Camaros of various vintages the odd Toyota and overloaded with the scents of bad cologne, mixed perfumes, high levels of testosterone and advanced Stockholm syndrome.

"Clearly we have come to the right place." Jon said. "I think it's likely we might find the true America here."

"Sadly I believe you're right but first let's set that fuckers truck on fire." I replied reaching into my pocket for a lighter and anything flammable.

Kat intercepted me. "I think that lacks subtlety, let's investigate."

"Your point is valid, if a little less fun." I said and walked up to the truck.

The back of the truck was a marvel of jury rigged engineering. The truck had two large rollers and a feed mechanism for them, behind them was a sloped piece of metal that fed posters into the rollers from a hopper. The whole system seemed to be gravity or momentum fed.

"What are you doing?" Kat asked as I examined the mechanism.

"I'm studying it's hoof prints. I think I have a plan." I said and grinned.

"Is this going to involve the need for fissionable materials again?" Jon asked hopefully.

"Sadly no, and besides that guard at the plant said he's shoot us if he caught us within five miles of it again." I said and got off the bed of the truck.

"Ohh yeah what was the guys name again?" Kat asked.

"I think it was Barry." Jon replied as I walked back to the truck.

"Never mind that." I said having retrieved tools of a dubious nature. I set to work making an addition to the mechanism that rolled out the posters.

"Do I even want to know?" Kat asked. I ignored her question as I set to work, sure some people might find it difficult to weld old type writer letters onto a rolling mechanism while plastered as fuck on purple pills of an unknown nature, but I'm a professional dammit! Don't try this at home.

"Just adding a friendly message to the posters each time they roll through." I replied adding a touch to the last letter I was pressing into the metal wheel with a small gas welder. I waited a moment for the new addition to cool down then ran one of the posters through the device and looked at my handwork. Holding it up for the others to see.

"That's incredibly tasteless." Kat said.

"It's a complete affront to decency and moral order." Jon said.

"So considering the context of all this, what you're saying is, it's perfect." I said and left the poster on the ground.

"Yeah pretty much." Kat said. "Can we go now?"

"Of course not, there is a fine American institution for us to go and examine!" I yelled. "Here we will find all that is good and right in this country right underneath a seedy underbelly created by pathetic monsters." I walked and put the welder back into the car. This being a great American state they would allow me to bring my portable arsenal of weapons with me into an establishment full of liquor, half naked women and men amped up on red bull, testosterone and shattered dreams, but they'd likely frown on a portable acetylene torch.

"You just want to go in and see in and see naked women fleecing the general public." Kat said.

"And you don't?" I replied.

She shrugged. "Okay ya got me, let see what this place has in store for us."

We walked to the door, feeling a bit out of place in my Kilt, bright green shirt and leather vest. Jon as always had dressed for any occasion in Khaki's and black button down shirt. Kat as always had the professional look going on. The black skirt and red top would go well anywhere. In this place she could do probably pull off a school girl look, or dominatrix depending on how she set her hair. Mind you if we could find a true pro to work on her she could go for the full on dreaded school girl dominatrix, but then we'd likely have to fight off hordes of people all trying to get to her and we'd had enough of that back in Salt Lake City.

Yeah you never forget the senior prom.

The doorman at the front looked us all over like beings from another world. "You sure you belong here?" He asked.

"Why wouldn't we?" Jon said. "We're just normal god fearing, folk like yourself."

The man looked dubious, but after a quick pat down and making sure we handed over at least one pistol to Kat (Who has some sort of issue with firearms.) took our five dollar per person cover and let us in.

The Double Douche was lit up on the interior like a Vegas casino designed by Salvador Dali after a long day of taking Xanax and Peyote buttons. The whole place was done in a mixture of red's and pinks. The three stages lit with bright spots to not miss any millimeter of exposed skin on them. The walls were curves reminiscent of sea shells, or maybe that was just the pills I took talking, they seemed to be breathing if I looked closer.

Currently several ladies of different sizes, colors and facial characteristics were dancing. Feigning some sort of sexual act in congress to the music that was playing.

Here we had found the basic format of the American dream mixed with the reality. Here you could pay your fee to see the objects of your own hormonal lusts turned loose in a confined environment where you could see them perform but any attempt to try and reach for them you'd likely get your arm ripped off by the large shaved gorillas masquerading as human beings at the front of the stage.  An angry bunch who lived in the shadow of armed men behaving like brain addled fourteen year olds. Caught in dreams forever denied, and wondering what they might do to change that.

Meanwhile we were surrounded by men of various ages, all openly carrying handguns and other weapons with their boners covered under layers of denim. Itself a metaphor for some huge flaw in our collective thinking which had made the last couple of millenia so exciting to read about but a nightmare to live in. It's always the old saying, kill a hundred people in popular culture and all is well, make the mere mention of someone having joyful sex of some sort and suddenly you're promoting unhealthy behavior, or ill morals and some sort of feigned moral decline.

The trade of the place was based on that near mythical sense of energy you feel at the height of arousal, where your mind could rationalize any act of fiduciary foolishness if it got you that much closer to the dream dancing on a stage or offering to bounce on your lap for a four minute classic rock song. Truly we had here American exceptionalism on stage and American Capitalist madness all over the rest of the bar.

Then I saw, her. I knew her, not in the biblical sense sadly, but somewhere in the back of my mind I could tell I had seen her before. If one were to solidify the concept of MILF she would likely be its avatar. She was of average height but with lush curves that spoke of experience she was willing to share. A walking smile of lust ready to show you the things you had been missing. Rich brownish blond hair framed a face made of pure Americana. A mixture of ethnicity's that created something staggering in their uniqueness.

She was finishing up on the center stage as the song from some nameless band lost to seventies over indulgence finished. She wiped down the pole she had worked to within an inch of it's life and walked past the huge shaved gorillas at the front to the dressing area in back.

Which is when I had the flash of memory that connected her face to an identity. She went by the stage name of Fiona, well film name. She had done well for herself in the adult film world back in the 80's. Never reaching the storied levels of fame achieved by others like Nina, Ginger, and Amber but still one of those ones who drew your eye to a box cover and made you take it home. Back then she was cast as the cute girl next door who would kill time between school and work showing some lucky neighbor boy all the things the prom queen would never do.

 We had met in the past when she was touring as a feature dancer. Back then actual humans guarded the talent and I was one of them. We talked and chatted back then and had a number of laughs. Then over time she fell off the face of the earth.

Is this the land where former porn stars go to retire? Surely not, she too had to be on some warped mission of chaos. She was far too talented to be working a dive such as this without orders from some higher power.

Clearly I needed to investigate.

"I need a distraction." I said to Jon.

"What?" He asked staring at a young lady who was peeling off a top that seemed to be made of liquid latex painted directly to her skin.

"For fucks sake snap out of it man!" I said and nudged him with an elbow. "We're on a mission here."

"Ohh yeah right, what do you need?" Jon asked looking not at all sheepish.

"I need to get into the dressing room. Get those animals looking the other way."

"On it." he said.

I turned to head toward the dressing room. Where I saw Kat, surrounded by a group of the ladies who worked this club. She was reclining on a couch being fed grapes by one while the other handed her a glass of wine. "Seriously how does she do that?" I asked myself and continued my trip.

Jon meanwhile passed by several young ladies who began to follow him as if he were some sort of pied piper heard above the Foghat song blaring from the speakers. Just as the arousal addled minds of the men gathered here were beginning to wonder where all the girls had gone. The gorillas meanwhile just stared into the crowd waiting for the next chance to snap an arm or bust a jaw.

Which meant no one was watching me as I hit the dressing room door.

Midnight at the Double Douche Chapter 2

"Holy shit! Someone get that fat ignorant fucker off of my car!" I screamed. The image of the shill man for all that is wrong in the world leered at me through the window.  His smiling happy visage, the sort of thing that made me think of a man who sold used cars and liked it. Who might violate a puppy if there was a dime in it for him. The kind of person who lived in Pittsburgh but was a Cowboys fan.

What was this man doing on the windshield of my car?

Kat being the most sensible and sane of us solved the riddle and the problem of not being able to see while she's driving by pulling what I now saw was a poster for that horrible creatures new book off the windshield. She passed it back to me and continued driving as if this was the most natural thing in the world.

I looked it over as Jon peered over my shoulder. "Apparently his latest piece of agitprop comes out tomorrow." He said as I studied the print, the red white and blue colors of the page, and the subliminal  messages hidden in the ink telling you that this man would make all your worries go away. His publisher had no shame.

"Well then he must be stopped!" I yelled.

"God dammit!" Kat yelled and swerved to avoid yet another poster.  Then another. "Apparently they have cut out the middle man in advertising."I said seeing even more of the dangerous paper objects flying at us.

"True, why bother with a street team and tape when you can speak to his audience so much more effectively with simple littering." Jon agreed reaching into his pocket and pulling out a pill bottle. He looked at it absently then pulled out a specimen and knocked it back.

"What do you have there?" I asked.

"I'm not sure." He said. "They're purple though."

"Oh good I'll take two." Jon was kind enough to hand over two of the little capsules and while I waited for it's effects to take hold I drew my pistol and stuck myself out of the window. Taking aim at a passing piece of paper with that horrible mans image on it. Firing a quick round I caught him right in that pig like furrow between his eyes.

Remember kids the trick to hitting a moving target is to lead it some. Oh and hate. So. Much, HATE.

"Screw you, you festering bag of ignorant puss!" I screamed to the night sky and fired another round.

"What the hell are you doing? Get back in the car!" Kat yelled. Too late though, I saw another poster flying through the air and pegged it on the fly. Paper exploded in all directions and I was momentarily blinded by the muzzle flash. Jon took the opportunity to drag me into the car.

"Dude why would you stop me on such a holy mission?" I said to my partner in crime.

He simply jerked his thumb behind us. Looking I saw a set of red white and blue lights swirling and following us.

"Is anything we're carrying illegal by any chance?" Kat asked.

Suddenly I remembered with startling clarity the provision run John and I had made before hitting the road. We had stopped for burgers, booze and ammo, then stopped by a friends place for other items more exotic. I was pretty sure we could explain the Gatling blow gun, but the two ounces of mushrooms and large Halloween sized bag of bubble hash might take some explaining.

"Ohh only most of it." I said.  Imagining some back woods judge who would likely sentence us to five years of Fox News for bringing such dangerous items into his beloved land.

"Well then let me do the talking."Kat said harshly and Jon and I did our best to behave like rational human beings for a short period of time.

The cop pulled up behind us and blasted the interior of the car with his screaming bright spotlights. I slipped on a pair of shades and noticed the lens flares on the insides. Perfect, what a great time for Jon's pills to kick in. Truth be told I was beginning to sweat a little.

It didn't help that the cop looked like a mountain of sculpted muscle and uniform who radiated a sort of dark authority as he walked. Literally back lit with the power lights I was expecting to hear a sound like Darth Vader's labored breathing as he got closer.

The purple pills gave him a dark aura with a life of it's own. following behind him like dark shadowy murder doll.

"Ignore this terrible drug." I thought to myself.

Kat to her credit handled it without so much as a mussed hair and handed the officer her license, registration and insurance card with a pleasant smile. The cop scowled down at her like he had never seen anything that pleased him on any level at any time... ever. He struck me as the sort of man who ground glass into lube to masturbate with just to make himself a little meaner in the morning.

"Can I help you officer?" Kat asked.

"Do you know why I pulled you over?" He asked.

"Was I speeding?" She asked with happy smile.

"No, you were driving at normal speed with a passenger hanging out a window firing a pistol."

"So that's illegal?" She asked. Giving him a sad look like a puppy. "I'm so sorry I didn't know that."

That actually brought him up short. Like no one could have ever taken such a massive refuge in that level of audacity. "Ummmm." He said.

"We're really sorry about that." She said. "We just got excited driving the roads and exercising our 2nd amendment rights. I promise we'll keep it down from here on out."

The cop seemed a little dazed then handed the paperwork back to Kat. "That would be appreciated. Mam, I'll let you go with a warning but I had better not see you driving along firing weapons blindly into the night again."

"Ohh we won't." She said. The cop nodded gravely and walked off back to his car.

"You saw that too right?" Jon asked me.

"Yeah but we better double check." I replied. "It could be some unknown purple pill side effect."

"Good point." Jon said nodding. "Kat did you just talk us out of a possible multiple felony arrest by telling a cop you didn't know what we were doing was illegal?"

Kat put the old car in gear. "Yes, I did, and don't make me do it again anytime soon, the batteries need to recharge." She stomped on the gas and we were thrown back into the seat so hard we couldn't follow up on the question.

The car itself was a marvel of modern tinkering. It started life as a 1986 Aston Martin Lagonda. Which if you want to know looks like a limousine stuck in a three way  with either end of a Ferrari.  The engine had been replace with an Audi V-10 a while back and the electronics kept getting tinkered with.

Now the weird part is I didn't do or contract any of this. I swear parts just keep appearing in this car. Usually after Jon and I try some new concoction in the basement bar and...

Wait a minute.

I turned accusingly to Jon. "Are you the one whose been fucking with my?..." The question was cut off as Kat took a sudden turn into a bar parking lot. "Holy shi...."

"IT seems like I found the source of all the Rush Limbaugh propaganda."

We saw the truck designed to litter posters across America's roadways parked in front of a seedy dump of a bar called the Double Douche.

Jon and I looked at each other and smiled the warm predatory smile of the lion as it walks through the grass and sees all the Gazelles ahead of them at the watering hole.

"I see a sacred duty." Jon said.

"Let's go to work." I replied.

Kat merely sighed as we stopped off into a parking lot full of wrangler jeans, cowboy boots, pickup trucks and prom queens turned strippers.

It was time to do the world some good.

Midnight at the Double Douche

(I'm in a goofy mood and frankly the allegedly real world is far too terrible and weird of late for me to get a mental line on. So today I give you a moment of strange fiction that passed through my brain, so I figured I would pass it on to you. I'm giving thought about doing a fictional stories blog, if there is any interest let me know.)

(One more note, some people might think my take on the Republican primaries is a bit mean, but after the audience in 2012 yelled "let em die!" I am allowed to make fun of the mind set of their "base" however much I wish.)

How do you explain the reasoning behind the terrible events of that evening? Well I could rationalize my behavior and tell you all about how it made sense at the time, but I respect you dear reader far too much to insult your intelligence in such a way.

If the truth be told it all began as it always has, at home. There I was, too high to move without assistance. Relaxing and watching the second round of the Republican primary debates. The previous contender for the role of Republican presidential wanna be had answered a question about healthcare issues by dropping puppies onto spikes, not to be outdone the next candidate was kicking a homeless person in the nuts for a nickel a shot. Ahhh appealing to the base, such a fun thing to see.

My cell phone rang but I was busy. The next contestant was bringing a leper on stage which of course bode well for all manner of family entertainment. My assistant Kat was kind enough to grab it for me and answer. Her sensibilities are a bit sensitive for this sort of thing but I'm working on getting her to see the joy of low brow humor. Where the key is not to laugh at the joke but the people who think it's funny.

Kat extended the phone to me. "Call for you."
"I figured as much." I replied and watched as the next icon of conservative family values whipped the leper to the over amazed joy of the rabid crowd of deranged family values voters.
"Answer the phone it's your editor." I extended my hand and Kat dropped the phone in it, rolling her eyes as she turned away.
I held the phone six inches from my ear and waited.

"WHERE"S MY FUCKING COLUMN!!" Came the voice on the other end.

"Hi Shelby." My Erstwhile editor had managed to track me down to yet another pre pay cell phone. Her sources were amazing.

"I need 2,000 words on anything, and coherent words. Something that forms a narative and tells a story, not like that time you sent recipes for Hash Brownies and fish cakes."

"Or You'll what?" I asked.

"I will come down there with three hot chicks have them tie you down and mass ignore you. You know me I'll do it." She said. It's such a shame when people know your weaknesses.

"When do you need it?" I sighed.

"Two Days." I sighed deeply.

"I'll have it for you." I replied and hung up.

Slumping I was thought hard about the pressing issues this presented for me. I was too stoned to drive, not stoned enough to think properly, under equipped and severely under motivated. To my warped and twisted mind there was only one solution to this problem.

I looked up at Kat. "Gather the crew. We're going on a road trip!!"

Kat looked me over. "So what you mean is grab Jon and the car."

"Well yeah if you want to be all matter of fact about it. We are about to embark on a great adventure."

"So I should also have the lawyers on speed dial." Kat said and walked off.

"It's scary how fast she's getting the hang of this place." I thought and watched her go. The view was pleasant. Kat was short for Katherine, but truth be told she looked more like what her name sounded like. lean and graceful with a head of reddish brown hair that framed features one might call refined or  She had arrived here as a result of orders from on high and it took about five minutes for her to assume the essential role of Wendy to my Lost Boy. She had far too much sense to be around here, yet stayed out of some sort of warped notion of pride or duty. She wouldn't be driven off and she was too good at what she did for me to get mad at her and fire her.

"What will I need for this trip?" I thought and rifled through my pockets which were woefully short of Cash, weapons of any destruction, drugs, or even pieces of aluminum foil left overs.

This clearly needed to change.

Looking up I saw the crowd at the primary debate about to go into a ravenous drooling fit over the clearly inbred son of a well known political family. Sitting there smiling to the crowd as if he wondered why all these people were so happy to see him and when he might get his next meal.

It's all a bit of a blur after that,  I remember rescuing Jon from a pack of people of various gender identities all of whom wanted to do some sort of horrible carnal thing to him. For some reason he didn't seem to be all that happy to be rescued.

If you were to take an image of the former angel Lucifer I bet he'd look like Jon, he had a face best described as somewhere between handsome and pretty. With Blonde shoulder length hair that gave off an image that reminded me of paintings of angels from my days where I went to church. Mind you he made up for all of that in his desire to figure out all things technological and a stronger desire than most to attempt to mate with anything that could walk on two legs.

But the less said about the goat incident the better.

Kat had decided she was the only one sober or sane enough to drive and off we went.

Everything was fine until we ran into Rush Limbaugh.

Really?

So sometimes you see a piece of news and your brain just simply refuses to process it on the first try. Today had one for me. A group of anti abortion protestors calling themselves "Operation Save America" decided to crash the service at a Unitarian church, taking an opportunity to speak their beliefs while the congregation was observing a moment of silence for a member who had passed away.

The story in a nutshell.

Because ya know I always feel like I might change my spiritual path when confronted by ranting half wits who crash my community.

Whoever organized this little excursion to loony land was well aware he wouldn't win any converts. Not by standing up in the middle of a service and acting like a jerk, or later when they pressed pictures of aborted fetus's to  the churches windows.

It's a simple rallying of the troops by engaging in activity to isolate them from social norms around them and unite them in a common drive toward their goal.

Kind of like what groups described as "cults" do to their members. Cut people off from sources of information outside of your own, indoctrinate them, and then train them to follow the leader.

As the world becomes less and less like a vision of America that coincides with what some remember, groups of people are trying hard to find anyone who will give them a vision of what they want. And these people are used accordingly.

So far these citizens of the far right have for the most part stayed non violent. Although there was that time someone shot up a Unitarian church. Or the time that guy shot the doctor in the doorway of his church. Those have been isolated incidents but I find myself worrying.

So if I may offer some advice, a vision if you will. If someone is telling that another group is totally wrong and needs to be adjusted to their way of thinking. Nod, smile and hit the back door as fast as you can. Soon this person will want you to be a mirror of their hates and desires. Acting as another appendage of their will.

I attend a Unitarian church, admittedly not often but I do enjoy sitting down and knowing that behind me there's a jewish couple, a christian beside me, and a humanist on the other side, with a muslim ahead of me. Afterword we'll all hang out and have coffee, and we'll talk to each other as people and as fellow travelers in this world.

I have no desire to change their views and they have no desire to change mine. Amongst us there's a belief that faith is a good thing but in the end our actions will determine how God (s) punish or reward us or not.

That people are different or something different from you does not make them your enemies, it does mean they know something you don't. So take the time to walk up and get to know them. Not only do you meet a possible new friend but in the end you also break the spell of the cult leader who spends way too much time looking for things to keep us apart when he should look for the things we can all agree on.

All too often we let ourselves fall prey to conflicts simply because we fail to understand the people around us. So take a few minutes, learn. And like I said if the nice leader wants you to go do something hateful to another group it might be time to go elsewhere quickly.

Todays add on is inspired by seeing the Talking Heads movie "Stop Making Sense" last night. Enjoy.

Burning Down the House

#jadapose or sometimes I wonder why the black death may not be a bad thing.

Social media in a strange way is casting a light on an element of culture that I, as a man had remained blissfully unaware of. Namely rape culture and just how awful people can be.

Background. A young lady goes to a party, has a couple of drinks, wakes up with a huge gap in her memory and naked with evidence that she'd been sexually assaulted. At least one of her attackers posted a picture of her naked. Then it went viral as people began mocking her by taking pictures of themselves posed like her with the hash tag #jadapose.

Now the first thing that comes to mind for me is, that this one of a now growing list of incidents where a woman has been victimized then mocked, harassed and belittled in social media for it.

My second thought is what sort of sub conscious group thing have we as a society developed that makes it seem okay to trash someone who is quite clearly the victim? Are there so many people in our world who are so insecure in themselves, so blindly hateful of others or uncaring that the notion of someone defenseless and damaged is a matter of amusement?

Maybe I had the meanness gene in my mind bullied out of me early but I can't quite fathom how it is people can see a person in that position and not feel for them. It baffles even more to consider that a lot of jadaposers were girls and women. Who could all find themselves victims of the very same crime and harassment.

It would be interesting to sit down and have a word with the ones I think of jadaposeurs, and ask them what made it funny? Do you simply enjoy the suffering of others or are you so afraid of seeming weak to the rest of the herd that you point to someone weaker than yourself to make the predators not notice you.

Do you follow in the wake of social predators picking up scraps left over like a remora attached to a shark, and when will you notice that it's simply a matter of time before the rest of the herd you have gathered under this banner would happily turn on you for their enjoyment.

I don't know how to convince others that part of becoming a mature rational person is moving away from acts like this. Or how doing things like this simply makes the rest of us look at the one who does it as if they are simply a small child occupying a body that's grown large. A tiny soul in an adult body, best avoided and passed over and left in their own little world where someday they too will be the victims of crimes they perpetuate.

I do my best to see the most incredible things in people. Their creativity generosity and good natures when they have them. Sadly Jadaposeurs and their ilk remind us that we as a people have a long way to go before we can declare ourselves mature as a species.

How to spot a moron.

Just a quick post before work.

So got a comment from someone on IM who said. "You're only posting this pro women stuff because you're trolling for pussy."

No captain dumbass if I should get pussy for espousing a feminist view that's called a happy side effect.

I post thoughts about why it is we should re evaluate our societal attitude toward women because I take time to wonder how I would feel if I had to dodge land mines of social slights, possible sexual abuse, and often 2nd class citizenhood on a daily basis. Truth be told I'm pleased that a lot of women haven't freaked out and gone looking for a nice semi automatic rifle to straighten someone out.

If we're going to have a free, open and actually just society, then we have to address the notion that the role of women has been of subjugation for quite some time. So much now that it's something that we fail to notice as it's an everyday thing. And that really needs to change.

Next post is a request. #jadapose

Or seriously I am rooting for the zombies.

umm words...The quest for something to say.

Seriously I should not attempt anything that requires more thinking than say pouring coffee on a saturday morning. My fridays and saturdays are weird. It works like this.

I get up at 645 am. Which for me is kind of an accomplishment in and of itself. I've been working some variety of second shift for  20 some odd years with the exception of the five years I was going to school. For an associates. Yeah, look some of us take more time than others.

I then throw on some clothes, grab my goody bag. (Loaded with my macbook, ipad, microphone and other stuff and make it to my car. Then I do my best not to hit pedestrians, irritate cops or draw fire from soccer moms who are likely more stressed than me. After that I stop by Hy Vee for some truly horrible breakfast food substitute and a large mug of coffee. (Although sometimes Hy Vee has a plastic jar of Pineapple for sale at their gas station, and when they do the day is declared a win.)

I then arrive at school and help students or do what Bob Maas asks me to do, within reason. If none of this shit is going on I write. To date I have finished the first drafts of three novels here. Seriously I love this job, no sarcasm. I am either helping people with their projects or working on my own.

Then once this job is done I hop in my car and  drive a mile to women's hospital. Where I do my best to make sure the doctors and nurses all have what they need to bring new life into the world or keep the lives that all ready exist from floating away. It can be interesting but thats a story for another time.

So by the time I walk out the door at 930 pm I have pretty much been at work from 730 to 930. That's a 14 hour day for those of you keeping score at home. By the time saturday night rolls around I am underslept, usually a bit over stressed, tired beyond reason and kind of cranky.  Go ahead ask me if I want to go out for a beer, if I say yes prepare to enjoy the show.

Sunday is currently my only actual complete day off for reasons that are hard to explain. (The short version, Women's Hospital is experiencing an explosion of incoming moms. All of whom apparently need stuff, this stuff is provided and inventoried by yours truly.) Monday and tuesday I work half days.

At this point I am dead tired and looking forward to Sunday where I will meet friends, talk about video editing, and paint stuff for an upcoming project. (Anyone got old CRT monitors they want to get rid of for an art project?)

In other news I am working on a trailer for a book which seems pretty awesome. I was going to work on that today and do some voice overs but, the air conditioning wont turn off here, and that makes recording difficult. Unless you're seriously into the sound of buzzing as a duet with my voice then you can get all you want.

Ohh like I said I have three first drafts done. I was thinking of putting one or two of them up online for people to read but before then I would love to have some editing help. Anyone interested. Hit me up in the comments section.

So when people ask me why I rarely do things on weekends thats it in a nutshell. My days off tend to be odd ones. For example I got this wednesday off specifically to go see the Talking Heads Concert film "Stop Making Sense." Which in my humble opinion is one of the few concert films that works as an actual movie.

The fact that there's a new whiskey bar and shop opening the same day is merely a coincidence.

So hope you enjoyed the rambling. I figured I'd break away from the serious stuff for a bit. Next time we'll talk about music, or art or maybe rape culture, we'll see what kind of mood I'm in. If you have a suggestion hit me up with a comment.

As a final note I am about to take hostages if I don't get a nice long back rub soon.

Big Business from Stop Making sense.