going green...or not

i would say this is a few years late, but my employer finally has decided to "go green". and how were we made aware of this? well, for starters, the big posters that were printed out and hung throughout our building, on each floor. and in case you didn't see those, the bulletins with tips on "going green" that are hung in the bathrooms and cafe will surely catch your eye.

we have a company blog. it's the centerpiece of our homepage, and to stick with theme of "going green", the feature blog this week expresses why it's important for us to "go green". take a look at tip # 2: Don't be a Paper Pusher - the average U.S. office worker goes through 10,000 sheets of copy paper a year. Make it a habit to think before you print: ask yourself , "could this be read online?" Make it a habit to print on both sides or use the back side of old documents for faxes, scrap paper, or drafts. Avoid color printing and print in draft mode whenever feasible.

so here's the comment i posted on the blog. because i mean, this is just ridiculous.

In light of our office's movement to "go green", I think it would be beneficial if the information and alerts came via email. Monday morning when I arrived on the 3rd floor and saw the "going green" poster, I immediately had mixed emotions. My initial thought was, "yay…finally!". But that was quickly followed up with me wondering why this announcement was being made on a PAPER POSTER. Today I have noticed more paper bulletins posted in the bathrooms and cafes.

While I understand that these things will grab everyone's attention, I think it is counterproductive. Using paper to notify people of way to "be green" is somewhat hypocritical, don't ya think? I am not going to act as though I am 100% paper free, but I can say that (since my teenage years) I have made a conscious effort to reduce the amount of paper products that I use. Restricting the amount of paper we use is just one of the many ways to make sure that we are friendlier to our environment, but in my opinion it's the easiest way for us to cut back.

The paper printouts are already there, so unless one of you owns a Delorean, I am expecting that they will remain. The intent of this is not to shun the efforts that are being put forth, but just to shred light on how much we mindlessly use paper. Perhaps for the remainder of the week, the tips can come electronically only?

so apparently i am the only person at this company who wasn't blind and deaf in the 80's because the reference to the delorean has confused everyone. jesus work sucks.

how i know i am getting fucking old

for starters, the majority of my mail now consists of wedding invitations, baby shower invitations or baby announcements. i mean, i am glad to not have as many debt collectors wasting paper on my ass...but still.

the fact that my car broke down during my last trip to nyc, and has had other problems since, has prevented me from driving anywhere i want to go...even the beach, 3 hours away. had this been 2002, i would fucking drive it anyways, never thinking about how much it would suck if i was stranded on the side of the interstate or the fact that i need to get something for a trade in. i mean shit, when i had my old altima i drove that shit until the wheels practically fell off. by the time i traded it in, the grill was gone, the back windows wouldn't roll down, the ac hadn't worked for 2 years, the oil had been leaking for 4, the sunroof was leaking...you name it. it cut off more often than it cranked (i know that's not possible...just making a point here).

more time is spent reminiscing about good ol' times than creating new ones. for example, last night my friend laura lee and i had a long ass discussion that mostly consisted of stories from nights like when we got kicked out of a condo and moved 14 people into a hotel room where the keg found a home in the shower. or when a night at the bar turned into a night of complete chaos where everyone ended up showered by beer, stoned, and off to another place to take icy shots of tequila. now everyone needs a written invitation 8 months in advance to participate in a weekend of insanity. it sucks.

i actually feel like i need health insurance. i am getting old.

yeah...so, this could go on, but i am going to stop here because i am starting to depress myself. getting older is inevitable, but becoming a boring creature of habit, not willing to take any chances doesn't have to be. there must be some other people out there like me who aren't willing to give in to the endless cycle...maybe?

i fucking suck

sorry to those 23 of you who come here everyday. i have been busy doing stuff like traveling, missing weddings and trying to find a new car. oh, and working. i had a minute (actually an hour) to enjoy a thunderstorm this weekend. i tried to add that video but blogger is being fucking retarded and i don't have the energy to deal with that right now.




i also got a chance to play the best game ever...circle of death. there are a ridiculous number of versions so if you don't like the game it's because you haven't played the right rules. i would like to thank the manual settings on my camera, and jeremy for holding the flashlight.

i am also occupying my time making some very important mix cd's for some very important people...and obviously am neglecting my blog. you will get over it hopefully.

torturing my mother

I called my mom this morning and this was the conversation…keep in mind that she as work…at a daycare

Me: hey
Mom: what's up?
Me: did you not win the lottery last night?
Mom: it's tonight
Me: oh, well I hope you win it tonight
Mom: why, what's going on?
Me: I hate my life and my job and I am feeling somewhat suicidal
Mom: BROOKE…are you serious? Don't say that!
Me: okay, okay…I am feeling a little HOMICIDAL…my bad. You know I love myself too much to take my own life.
Mom: I am at work and you are bugging me with this
Me: I am just sayin…you need to win the lottery or things could get ugly. People with fat asses have no business in orange jumpsuits so I would hate to end up having to wear one for the rest of my life.
Mom: (laughing) God you are crazy
Me: Well I am a product of you and dad
Mom: well you are just like your dad
Me: Really I just wanted to say happy Wednesday!…have you checked out Bonnie and Adam's wedding registry…why the hell do they need all those knives?
Mom: Brooke…I have got to go
Me: Wait, mom…I think I am going to marry a Mexican for money.
Mom: Jesus.
Me: that's his name!!!
Mom: bye brooke
Me: I love you!
Mom: uh, huh

your wildest dreams

here's an email i sent a few friends...apparently i feel the need to share it with you guys.

subject line: story time

Well, it wasn't really going to be story time but I just can't stand the fact that none of my friends are with me on this. The song "Your Wildest Dreams" by the Moody Blues came out in 1986. Growing up my parents belonged to a country club-not because we were hoity toity, but because my dad wanted to get wasted and go golfing all the time, and because my mom wanted to get a tan by the pool while smoking her 100's and "watching" the kids. So that was the during 80's. The lifeguards were high schoolers. So what music was always blaring from the boombox at the pool? 80's pop. So…I hear this song the other day on the way home from work and was like, "oh my god…I LOVE this song…I have to remember it so I can download it!" But of course, my A.D.D. got the best of me and by the time I got home I couldn't even remember one line from the song. So…this morning a song angel whispered in my ear, "hey brooke, turn off your Willy Mason CD and put on 95.7". And what do you know…that song was playing! So I found it, but have yet to find anyone who even remembers it other than me. Anyone? Oh…and listen past the long ass intro…before you go…what the fuck is this crap?? God I am so gay.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mP6-j9pxTGI

much to my excitement, caroline responded saying that she has home videos with this song in the background. and matt responded saying that it's in his itunes library. we were destined to all move together.

nkot-b-arf me

i remember when i was 9 or so and the new kids on the block were hot on the scene. i LOVED them. don't quit reading...please let me try to redeem myself after the gayest sentence ever. i was fucking NINE YEARS OLD. i had a crush on joey. i had a poster of him in my room, and when i had collected enough NKOTB cards i formed a heart around the poster of joey with them. it was disgusting, and every young girl's dream back in 1988.

my brother would always give me shit about them. he was 10. he thought they were gay and verbalized his disgust with every breath he took. i defended them as though they were my babies' daddies. my friends and i would swoon over the fab 5 and argue about who was the cutest. and still to this day, i know that i have absolutely nothing in common with anyone whose favorite was danny. i mean, he looked like a fucking monkey with his long ass face and big ears. it's kinda like now when i meet someone who never really 'got' the simpsons or doesn't have any interest in the family guy. we just weren't meant to come into each other's lives.

when i was in 5th grade we had to perform for music class. me and 4 other girls decided that we were going to be NKOTB and i think the song we chose was step by step. talk about bridging the social gap. i mean...you can't determine who you have music class with, but for the sake of performing as our favorite (and the one and only) boy band, we made it happen.

i'll never forget the useless 4 hours during which we were supposed to be practicing. what we actually did was argue about who would be who, who should sing what part, and who couldn't dance worth shit and needed to stand in the back, until finally our little bitchy selves had had enough of not getting our own way, and called it quits. i ended up singing one of stevie wonder's songs. i sat behind the piano with shades and swayed my head back and forth. and, although the singing was actually pretty good, my teacher thought of it as more of a comedic routine...like i was making fun of stevie. little did she know i was actually a fan and trying to be true to the part.

anyways, the nkotb craze fizzled after a year or two. i owned all the tapes and listened to them forward and back. then finally, i realized that i was a fucking douche. i mean, these guys fucking sucked. there is a lot of music from the 80's that you listen to know and go, "god, what the fuck was everyone thinking?" but when i listen to nkotb i think, "i am seriously, seriously a fucking retard."

so, why am i strolling down memory lane and bringing up such a terrible time in my life during which i betrayed all of my male role models? well, because they are back at it again. and quite frankly, i think it's disgusting that there are probably so many fucking dumb bitches who are all about them, all over again. of course, there are also girls who graduated high school in the 80's or early 90's who can't let go of the big bangs...so i guess i shouldn't be surprised.

the point is, we all have a time in our lives that we are ashamed of. the time during which i adored this disaster of flaming teenage boys would be mine. ban the boy band!

about a fart...

perhaps you read this post which gives you a slight background of why farts are funny to me...not rude or disgusting. well, wait, they can be disgusting...but whatever.

well today, when i arrived at work i had separate emails from my mom and dad. it was one of those emails with a bunch of random questions, that you complete and send and the idea is for people to respond with their answers.

one of the questions was "what is your favorite sound", to which my dad responded, "a good fart". i laughed until i cried, then i called my mom to tell her and she was like, "um, i'm at work".

then later, i came across this site, and well, all i can say is that's fucking hilarious. whenever i am missing my dad (or my friend jeremy), i can just go there and pull a finger all day long and listen to the sounds of flatulence.

not so slack, just retarded

so i know for those of you who stopped by the last 3 days it appeared that i was being slack again. really, i was just being retarded again. as you can see now, there were posts that i had written but just never hit the little 'publish post' button. wow...the brain swims in the booze...swimmy, swim, swim.

that just reminded me of this really fun local band called the alternative champs. they always dress in theme and their songs are retarded and catchy. i think one time i saw them they were all dressed as astronauts, then another time they were dressed as gorillas and i think one guy was tarzan??? oh, how my memory fades me.

the song, swimming in the pool, is one that i always laugh at. i can't find the lyrics, but here's something else about them that will give you a better idea about them. so yeah...they say swimmy, swim, swim in that song...so that's how we ended up here.

adam sandler

okay. i am drunk. i just happened to come across this article while i sit and wait for my lean pocket to cool to a temperature that won't burn off my tongue.

and let me just say...i hate when ANY shit is talked about this actor. let's be realistic people. he's a saturday night live-er. what is up with the people who judge him so harshly? what is up with people analyzing the character THAT HE PLAYS? hey, have you ever heard of a thing called comedy? have you ever heard of a thing called entertainment? that is why we have people like adam sandler (and jim carrey). if you're worried about his depiction of american men then go fuck yourself. i hope you make it long enough to see us all go down in a nuclear fury.

okay...i am getting out of control. but seriously...when did people get so fucking serious? if you want to critique take a look at someone like jack nicholson. i mean...i know that he has had his fair share of laid back roles more recently...but his career didn't start off in the lime light of saturday night sketch comedy. and you know what this bitch said to me at the gym the other night? as good as it gets was on one of the tv's...and she literally was like, oh, this is a cute movie but he is such an asshole in real life. REALLY?? oh, so you know him? you have had a dinner party or two, to which he was invited, and i guess he showed up and shit on your floor and used your doily to wipe his ass with? and even if he is an asshole...who the fuck cares. guess what, johnny carson was quite the douche and he had no problems raking in the ratings for his late night show. guess who else is a douche? our president. okay...i am going to leave it at that.

the point is...these people are actors. they are famous. adam sandler is the shit. i don't care what anyone says, he is funny, but also very capable of playing a diverse role...just take a look at punch drunk love and reign over me. so for everyone who wants to be the judge and criticize and downplay someone's success...go fuck yourself. who are you anyways? play the lead in one...JUST ONE role, and then tell us how sorry of an actor everyone else is. and let us know when you have found your personality...we would be much more fond of you if you had one.

way to take it back!

myrtle beach is a dump. there is no reason to go there unless you are a yankee who doesn't know any better, from ohio and have never been on a beach and when you google 'cheap spring break locales' it's the first search result, or you enjoy watching chubby 20-something year old men fondle chubby 16 year old girls. don't get me wrong...i spent a spring break or two in cherry grove which is just north of myrtle, and took my fair share of trips down the main drag, and spent plenty of time hanging over balconies of hotel rooms that belonged to male strangers that were out of high school. but fuck, i was 16...what the hell did i know? oh yeah...and now it's overcrowded as hell.

if you want to go to a beach in sc hit folly or edisto. leave myrtle beach to the nascar fans, harley riders, ghetto ho's and crotch rocket-ers...they absolutely LOVE it and will be happy without your kind there.

okay, but wait, what? what happened? is it so that south carolina's main tourist attraction of the 70's and 80's is taking it back? no...that's dramatic. but they did give me a reason to go down there. shit...i could even stay with my alcoholic yankee aunt who moved down from ny (see...i even make fun of my own people).

i want to ride this ride. i mean, led zeppelin + a roller coaster MUST equal magic. i don't see how it could be described as anything less. so, out goes the old pavilion that was an eye sore for way too long...and in comes a rock n roll thrill ride. sounds good to me!

i need side rails for my bed

did you know that you are more likely to be killed by falling out of bed than by freezing to death? i just find this really hard to believe. i mean, do that many people fatally fall 2-5 feet to the floor? is there are secret underworld of people who require homes with cathedral ceilings so their beds can stand 25 feet tall?

okay, so your chance of falling out of bed and dying are only 1 in 2 million, but with 6.7 billion people in the world that means that 3350 have been killed by falling out of their beds. that just seems a little ridiculous to me. maybe the "fall" was actually a little push by a frustrated nurse? perhaps the father of a toddler had just had enough and "forgot" to reattach the side rail for the top bunk?

so...you have the same chance of death by tornado or death by lightening as death by falling out of bed. i just can't wrap my head around this one. and wouldn't you think that more people would freeze to death? i mean, think of all the hikers and campers and ice fishers. think about avalanches and children who climb into refrigerators (like that one episode of punky brewster). think about people who go to saranac lake without a sleeping bag and get so wasted that they pass out in the cold air. oh wait, i survived. maybe it is harder to freeze to death. but think about all the mother's who freeze their babies. it seems like that would occur more often than rolling around during a nightmare, falling off the bed and hitting your temple on the corner of the bedside table hard enough to take your life. bedrooms should be big mattresses. beds are so freakin dangerous.

on vacation

camping in upstate ny. i could have save scheduled postings to come out each day...but well, that's kinda stupid. see ya wednesday!

this drives me batty

my roommate sent me this link today and said it would drive me crazy. he was right. the fastest i have gotten so far on average is .19 seconds. fuck the sheep!!! oh wait, that's not funny, some people actually do that.

i'll post this tomorrow

along with my already identified psychiatric disorders, a.d.d. and alcoholism, i am now aware of a third: procrastination. i have always known that i was a procrastinator, but didn't know that this was an actual psychological disorder.

in high school and college i seriously waited until the night before a 10 page paper or science project or art project was due to even start it. there just seemed to be no need to before that. i knew that i didn't have the discipline or concentration to force myself to read old man and the sea or write a paper about rosa parks until i had absolutely no other choice. when i was in college this "disorder" really took its toll, clearly because the assignments were more difficult. i would stay up all night popping ritalin like candy and finish up an art project as the class was showing up at 9 in the morning, then never get to sleep because i had a speech to make that afternoon at 3 that i hadn't started yet. so it was an endless cycle. but it's the only way i functioned.

just like this might be crazy for you to understand, it's crazy for me to understand that there are people who work on things slowly, over a couple of weeks, and never have to rush to get done. if there is something, ANYTHING to do other than what i am REQUIRED to do, that's what i would rather be doing.

don't get me wrong...i am not lazy. i just can't stand doing things that i HAVE to do...like pay bills. it's almost as though i can make them temporarily not exist. then when they HAVE to be paid to prevent the power being cut off, it makes sense to pay it.

so, here it's wednesday. i am at work until 5. i have to be at the airport by 8 am tomorrow morning to leave for my 6 day camping trip in upstate ny. i haven't packed. i haven't done laundry. i haven't found my flashlight, or charged my camera batteries. there are still a few things i need to buy for the trip. the point is, i really wish i wasn't at work today. and obviously right now, instead of doing actual work, i am writing this stupid shit about how much of a procrastinator i am. imagine that.

so now it's hours later, and i found another article about procrastination. it breaks procrastinators down into three types, and i am definitely this one: arousal types, or thrill-seekers, who wait to the last minute for the euphoric rush.

today on my lunch i went to the mall (about 10 -15 miles from my work) and made purchases at two different stores on opposite ends of the mall, then got gas, and made it back to work within 55 minutes. it was fun. like, i got the euphoric rush. i got excited about my trip all over again. sounds lame...but that's just how it is.

something else interesting in this little article-Procrastination predicts higher levels of consumption of alcohol among those people who drink. Procrastinators drink more than they intend to—a manifestation of generalized problems in self-regulation.

i really need to stop reading shit like this. i mean, how many other things can be wrong with my fucking brain?

what were they thinking?

my friend, eve, sent me this link today of the 50 worst album covers. let me just say that it's too funny not to share. they are all random and heinous as all fucking hell. i went through them several times to try and pick my favorite...but how do you choose between a hand less organist and old ladies covered in sour cream?

oh, bush on the big screen

in case you don't know me or have never read any of my blog or are an idiot, i should inform you that i loathe our president. but unlike several millions of americans, i didn't wait until his 6th or 7th year in the white house to start harboring this disgust for him.

i can't wait for this movie to come out, and i hope it's an honest view of what a completely dissapointing leader W is/was.

in related movie news, michael moore is working on a sequel to farenheit 9/11. can't wait to see that shit either!

randomness

the day was pretty normal...ya know...work sucks, god i wish it was friday, oh, tomorrow is friday (yay). then i left work and was surrounded by randomness.

on my way home traffic was backed up. people kept moving over to the 2 left-hand lanes. when i got up on what should have been a dead child, i saw that it was actually 30 pairs of shoes lying in the road. i guess someone lost a trash bag on the way to goodwill. i wanted to take a picture but didn't want to be one of those people that i hate. but why the fuck can't we run over a few sneakers? if my car can't handle that then maybe it's only designed to drive on clouds.

i stopped at a gas station to get some smokes. there was a long line. when there's a long line i think certain idiots should be forced to remove themselves from the line. like the guy in front of me who got TWO DOLLARS WORTH OF GAS. okay, gas is $3.79 a gallon. so this guy just wasted our time counting out nickels and dimes for .52 gallons. hopefully he wasn't driving anywhere further than the parking lot. douche.

i was almost home, stopped in traffic, when this short ass mexican decided to jaywalk...in the direction of my car...staring at me...and screaming repeatedly, "BEAUTIFUL, BEAUTIFUL." i thought he was about to climb into my window. i am not a greencard...get the fuck away.

this has always gotten me: what's the deal with the fear of rain? it's barely trickling outside and people are walking around protecting themselves with oversized golf umbrellas. you could walk a mile outside right now and possibly be hit with 2 drops. what the fuck?

other than that i have an extremely overwhelming desire to get fucked up. but if i do that i won't go to the gym tonight or in the morning. bleh.

just kill me

this, folks, is when i would seriously have to amputate my own leg. not because i was hiking through the woods and stepped on a bear trap. not because i lost a bet on a potato sack race. not because one of my legs could save a million amputees. no. it would be this.

where the fuck are we again? oh...that place where freedom is all the rave. fucking forcing someone sober????

okay, for all you member of m.a.d.d...calm the fuck down. i don't drive drunk (anymore). and it is unfortunate when someone's life is taken by a drunk driver. i had a friend in high school who was. but it's also unfortunate when children are molested, yet you don't wrap a device around creepy old man's dick to alert you anytime he is aroused and has an increased pulse rate.

why not put the interlock in this guy's car? that seems to work for plenty. he didn't kill anyone. just because you are a terrible drunk driver doesn't mean you should never have the luxury of enjoying a brew. but then again, this argument is coming from the angle of a raging alcoholic...so go figure.

meadows vs bodegas

since deciding to move to nyc, friends and family members have questioned this decision. they just don't get it. and that's fine. i don't really get it either. i know i love it there. i know i (sometimes) hate it here. but with me it's somewhat of a catch 22 because i love the hustle and bustle, the millions of strangers, the ability to get everywhere you need to go by foot or through the use of public transportation. but, at the same time, i LOVE a big front porch, a lawn to lie in, camping, hiking, staring at the stars while having a somewhat philosophical discussion with anyone who will join in. so WHY move to the cluster fuck that is nyc?

i came across this article of why the author chooses to stay in the country. so, to clear up the confusion for those of you who wonder why the fuck i would want to move to a place like nyc, i will respond to each of his reason's for keeping it rural. maybe that will get you off my back.

Elbow Room

Living in a fishbowl is comforting to some, claustrophobic to others. Ask urbanites why they flee the city for the country and most will cite the reason folks like me have never left: open space. Ironically, open space is disappearing at an astonishing rate as people rush to grab their share of it. Despite that, there's still enough elbow room to easily walk in the woods with the dog, cross-country ski or sled with the kids, or run to the clothes line bare-assed before work—all, and more, because out here you can.

i don't really care about elbow room, unless we are talking about in my bed. most places that i like to hang out bring about a crowd, so i have just gotten used to it. if elbow room was that big of an issue i would never again attend a football game or concert, or go to a bar. not to mention, the adirondacks are not far at all. i can hop on a train and meet up with friends any time i feel overwhelmed by the shoulder to shoulder.

Slower Pace

You can tell someone's from the city by the way they drive. If they're on your bumper, bearing down, it's a dead giveaway that they're “not from around here,” or at least are carrying metro-baggage. On the old roads that rarely see traffic, you really can slow it down, take it all in. What, after all, is the rush?

i can't fucking stand the slower pace. the slower pace is for people who need walkers. it's not always that you are in a rush, just that there are thousands of things you could be doing other than driving your car behind someone in their old-ass ford truck who is winding down the 2 lane road slow enough to pass on bicycle.

Neighborliness

With so many stores, public transportation, and hired help nearby, urbanites have nearly everything they need to live "independently." And even in the country, as technology creeps into our lives, more than ever people can drive right by their neighbors without ever knowing them. But when the chips are down, when the car is in the ditch, when you run out of firewood, when the power's out and you need a shower, it's your neighbor helping you out. You know them out here, probably because you've had to be there for each other numerous times, and will be many times again.

neighbors are what you make of them. i live in an apartment building uptown, reminiscent of a college dorm. i like to keep a distance, but when i am locked out, no one ever spits on my face because we live in an urban environment. and i like to keep neighbors at a distance anyway...if you let them get to close they will be at your door with every excuse in the book (um, i need a bobby pin) just because their nosey asses want a glimpse into your life. next thing you know (in this rural area with one church and one bar) the fact that you answered the door on a tuesday night with a glass of whiskey on the rocks will be turned into soap opera drama. it will be accompanied by hushed whispers and dirty looks each time you walk into the fucking grocery store. my grandmother used to tell us shit about people we had never seen before...ugh.

Air Quality

Sure, if you have pollen allergies and/or the smell of cow manure offends, maybe country life is not all deep breaths. But medical studies show that asthmatics fair much better withdrawn from urban environs, where vehicle pollution contributes to respiratory difficulty and a host of other problems. Breathe enough of our clean air—agricultural or natural smells aside—and you're bound to get used to it, especially when you open your windows to welcome a morning or evening breeze.

i will die tomorrow of an asthma attack before i will ever live somewhere that a cow-shit farm is in my nose's reach. and i have my window open right now...the breeze is wonderful.

Setting

Norman Rockwell has left the building, but his ideal of country life didn't expire with him. So long as rolling fields speckled with livestock or laid over with waving wheat remain, so too does the simple lifestyle built around them—or at least the illusion of that lifestyle. Enough so that aside from the cell phone in their pockets anchoring them to modern reality, country people can still fake being backwater. While texting the grocery list from home, of course.

when i think of the country setting i think of simple (minded) people. i know this is not always the case...but i like to walk outside and be on a sidewalk and mosey around uptown and have my choice of everything to do. driving 20 miles to the nearest grocery store, bar, or friend's house would drive me nutty-not to mention probably result in a dui. plus, people, no matter how fucking ignorant or brilliant, intrigue me. too much alone time (and i strictly mean time by myself, not time without a partner or friend) makes me crazy.

Star Gazing

Having trouble picking out Orion from Soldier Field? Where I live, the houselights across the valley sometimes blend right in with the stars, and most clear nights we can see the full band of the Milky Way.

this is his best argument as far as i am concerned. but it's just like the beach. when i lived there i walked to the ocean every single day, but it wasn't as fascinating as it had been my whole life. now, going to the beach to see friends is fun and more exciting than going to see land-locked friends because i don't get to enjoy the beach every day.

Crime

It's a problem everywhere, and meth and other drug-related violence is on the rise in rural America. Still you're more likely to get hit by lightning than be mugged while taking a nightly stroll down a moonlit dirt road. And even if you were to get hit, you'd spend a lot less time worrying about it beforehand.

if i was worried about crime i would live my life in a cinder block home with no windows and no doors, and then i would die within a week or so. and the really nutty fucks live in rural areas too...i would rather be mugged than throw into a cellar and forced to live off my toenails and dog urine while some psycho raped me thursday.

Roots

Roots are the real reason I'm here. My daughters are the eighth generation to live on our defunct farm. For some reason, it seems, roots penetrate better in warm earth than in concrete. The same goes for newcomers to the country. After all these millennia, it's somehow more permanent to make a stand in the dirt than in a 12th-story townhouse. But that's just my take.

i guess i should move to brooklyn or italy if it's a case of where your roots are. well, my dad grew up in the south but his parents are dead and they totally lived that extreme rural life on a farm that i can't stand.

a new marijuana

i don't know what is in the shit that kids are smoking these days, but back when i was lighting up with a few friends we didn't have the energy to rewind the vhs to rewatch our favorite scene in half baked...much less go dig up a body to make a bong out of it's skull. weird.