I just finished a small chapter in life. Yet another job to provide a little financial stability has come to a close. Sussex School lost their music teacher during the summer and contracted YMusic to provide music instruction for it's middle schoolers. Being an employee of YMusic and having teaching experience, myself and 3 others signed up to split up the school year and take on the challenge.
I got the mid-January to April slot. 2 days a week I stood in front of 6th, 7th, and 8th graders teaching everything from Guitar, Drums, Bass, Piano, to Recording, "Being in a Band", Wilco, Led Zeppelin, and Stravinsky. Which brings us to what I learned...
The "Mighty Travis' Guide to Middle School"
1. Shut Up.
I know they can't control it and I love 'em to death, but they do not shut up. Nothing stops them. You can't bribe them and you can't trick them.
2. Plan all you want.
No lesson plan that I made, was what we did that day. I would walk in with a listening activity and end up teaching them to play a Cake song. Then we would write songs in small groups on the day that we were supposed to watch "Stop Making Sense". We even had a whole day of "how did he/she die?"
3. Hate.
You and I know what hate it is. We use it everyday and we know how to use it. They have just discovered/acquired this feeling/ability. They point it in every direction. They have no ability to control it and it is either on or off. No middle ground with a couple dirty looks or smart ass remarks, no, it goes straight to yelling and crying.
4. "Dating"
It is fucking weird when that age group "dates". That is all I have to say.
5. Drumset
If you have a drumset or percussion item set up, each student will walk into the classroom and immediately beat the living shit out of it. With anything. As loud as they can. Then if it happens to break and fall to the floor, they walk to the next thing to hit with out missing a stroke.
6. Choices.
If you don't assign instruments and you give them a choice to play what ever they want, they will choose either Guitar, Rain Stick, or the shitty-out-of-tune-toy-steel-drum. A lot of them can play guitar really well and have great rhythm, but the others will beat the holy hell outta that stupid steel drum or mindlessly turn a rain stick over and over.
7. Surprise.
Everyday they will surprise you. Everyday someone said something that blew me away. "Is it OK if I put away all the chairs?" "Can I just finish the project today?" "Will you teach me how to play like John Bonham?" "I just want to write a song today" "Thank You" "Can we do that again tomorrow?" "I want my guitar to sound like THAT"
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Instincts are amazing.
I love my dog. He is turning 4 years old in a couple of days. He is one of the most friendly dogs on the planet and loves everyone. But if you come around the corner while he is eating and move slowly towards his food bowl...
He's so cute when he's mad, but wagging his tail...
He's so cute when he's mad, but wagging his tail...
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Give me back my $8.25
We are living in age where the 3rd and 4th sequels are coming out for all the huge late 70's and 80's blockbusters. There is nothing better then sitting back and watching the same characters from 20 years ago, do the same shit, the same way, with the same clothes, and the same one liners. There are 4 men to blame for the majority of this sequel-prequel-shmequel-money-grubbing-bullshit.
George Lucas, Steven Spielberg, Bruce Willis, and Sylvester Stallone. From now one I will refer to them as one, known as.....SpeilLucaBruVester.
SpeilLucaBruVester will try to fool you with some horseshit about how they couldn't make this script back then because they didn't have the technology, or the money, or the time. SpeilLucaBruVester will entice you with promises of closure or the final chapter in the saga. SpeilLucaBruVester will bring in the same actors out of their comas and coffins, but also add your new hip and favorite stars. But in the end, all you are watching is a scaled down rip off of the original movie and its sequels.
and now..."The Mighty Travis' Guide to making a Shitty Sequel"
Step One-
Set the script in a time that is about 10 or 15 years later then the last movie. Put the main character in a "they didn't have these back then/fish out water/show the new rookie the ropes" time of his life. He might be sore and his back ain't what it used to be, but he'll still put together the "plot turn" and "have a few tricks up his sleeve".
Step Two-
We are living in a post 9/11 world and you need to tap into that by making the main character serve his country or a veteran of serving his country. By god, you are going to salute him when he first appears on screen or want him to lead you into battle by the end credits. Flag waving is perfect, but don't stop there, make sure to mention his hate of the Cold War Russians, Vietnam's Charlie, or Nazi Germans. He may be a rebel, but he still bleeds red, white, and blue. But who do you fight now? Don't use Iraq directly, make the enemy some ambiguous terrorist with a beard and turban. Better yet, someone that could be your neighbor or friend, someone who would violate our own system of homeland security, just to get his hands on the gold.
Step Three-
If the first movie has a car chase with the enemy climbing all over the truck and trying to get to the driver's seat, the 2nd movie with a roller coaster ride, and the 3rd a tank chase in the desert, then the 4th has to have a car chase with 6 tanks careening through the jungle maze with a sword fight and a helpful clan of wild monkeys.
Step Four-
Any actor that was in the original that says "no" to doing the shitty sequel, is discovered to be dead in the first 10 minutes of the movie. If they don't do the movie because in real life they are actually dead, make sure they are discovered to be dead in the first 10 minutes, but with some sort of plaque, statue, or even a framed picture of them and the hero arm in arm at a party, possibly sharing the last fun moment of their youth.
Step Five-
Save the big catch phrase for the final scene. You remember that one, I think it was something like, "I too old for this may the force be Adrian yippie ki yay he no nuts he crazy frankie says relax live for something or die for nothin'"
Step Six-
All weaponry must remain the same. If a hand made knife, a bull whip, 9mm, a punching bag, or a light saber, got them out of a jam 1-15 times, then it will work for another 16-23 times.
Step Seven-
Treat the audience like they will believe anything.
...Now sit back and wait for the 5th installment of those crazy LA cops, Riggs and Murtough, because nothing has dollar signs all over it like a bad sequel with Mel Gibson, Danny Glover, and Joe Pesci.
George Lucas, Steven Spielberg, Bruce Willis, and Sylvester Stallone. From now one I will refer to them as one, known as.....SpeilLucaBruVester.
SpeilLucaBruVester will try to fool you with some horseshit about how they couldn't make this script back then because they didn't have the technology, or the money, or the time. SpeilLucaBruVester will entice you with promises of closure or the final chapter in the saga. SpeilLucaBruVester will bring in the same actors out of their comas and coffins, but also add your new hip and favorite stars. But in the end, all you are watching is a scaled down rip off of the original movie and its sequels.
and now..."The Mighty Travis' Guide to making a Shitty Sequel"
Step One-
Set the script in a time that is about 10 or 15 years later then the last movie. Put the main character in a "they didn't have these back then/fish out water/show the new rookie the ropes" time of his life. He might be sore and his back ain't what it used to be, but he'll still put together the "plot turn" and "have a few tricks up his sleeve".
Step Two-
We are living in a post 9/11 world and you need to tap into that by making the main character serve his country or a veteran of serving his country. By god, you are going to salute him when he first appears on screen or want him to lead you into battle by the end credits. Flag waving is perfect, but don't stop there, make sure to mention his hate of the Cold War Russians, Vietnam's Charlie, or Nazi Germans. He may be a rebel, but he still bleeds red, white, and blue. But who do you fight now? Don't use Iraq directly, make the enemy some ambiguous terrorist with a beard and turban. Better yet, someone that could be your neighbor or friend, someone who would violate our own system of homeland security, just to get his hands on the gold.
Step Three-
If the first movie has a car chase with the enemy climbing all over the truck and trying to get to the driver's seat, the 2nd movie with a roller coaster ride, and the 3rd a tank chase in the desert, then the 4th has to have a car chase with 6 tanks careening through the jungle maze with a sword fight and a helpful clan of wild monkeys.
Step Four-
Any actor that was in the original that says "no" to doing the shitty sequel, is discovered to be dead in the first 10 minutes of the movie. If they don't do the movie because in real life they are actually dead, make sure they are discovered to be dead in the first 10 minutes, but with some sort of plaque, statue, or even a framed picture of them and the hero arm in arm at a party, possibly sharing the last fun moment of their youth.
Step Five-
Save the big catch phrase for the final scene. You remember that one, I think it was something like, "I too old for this may the force be Adrian yippie ki yay he no nuts he crazy frankie says relax live for something or die for nothin'"
Step Six-
All weaponry must remain the same. If a hand made knife, a bull whip, 9mm, a punching bag, or a light saber, got them out of a jam 1-15 times, then it will work for another 16-23 times.
Step Seven-
Treat the audience like they will believe anything.
...Now sit back and wait for the 5th installment of those crazy LA cops, Riggs and Murtough, because nothing has dollar signs all over it like a bad sequel with Mel Gibson, Danny Glover, and Joe Pesci.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Summer's On!
Winter is over. Bring on the short rainy spring, the hot early summer, and the nasty-ass-smoke-filled August. Bring on the shirtless guys and nearly shirtless girls, all watching the same 5 local bands, down at whatever culture/nationality/food/beverage/drug/suffering they are celebrating at Caras Park. I didn't have much to write (complain) about during the last few months, unless you want to hear about how much I love Netflix. Anyway, put on your sunglasses and your cutoff jean shorts and keep checking back, because this blog is BACK!
Sunday, March 16, 2008
I Love Seattle
Setting: Laundromat, sunny day, 55 degrees, Missoula
Cast of Characters
-Seattle Lover: Girl who just returned to Missoula after living in Seattle for a couple of months.
-Friends 1 and 2: Didn't just go to Seattle, stayed in Missoula
-The Mighty Travis
Friend 1: So how was it, how was Seattle?
Seattle Lover: It was so great! I love it there. There are so many things that Seattle has that Missoula doesn't!
Friend 2: Like what?
Seattle Lover: There is so much to do, so much culture, it is beautiful, the ocean is right there, live music all the time, tons or art galleries, great places to live, all my friends are there now, great food, way cooler bars and nightlife.
Friend 1: That sounds great!
Seattle Lover: Yeah! You know what else Seattle has that Missoula doesn't?
Friends 1 and 2: What?
Seattle Lover: Let me tell you! More thrift shops, better used clothes shops, awesome grocery stores, better recycling, better bus system, amazing independent record stores, tons of places to buy vinyl, and even more amazing wilderness and outdoor activities. It is so much easier to go on a hike out there, then here.
Friends 1 and 2: Wow!!
Seattle Lover: Yeah! There is so many things there that Missoula doesn't have!
The Mighty Travis: So, why in the fuck would you ever move back to Missoula??
Seattle Lover: It costs too much to live there, it is hard to find a place to live, rent is too high, beers are 8 bucks, it rains 98% of the time, it costs too much to own a car, you can't afford to live with in walking distance of those great thrift stores and most of the time you still have to pay for recycling. But, that's what you have to put up with to live somewhere that is so cool!
The Mighty Travis: Wow! Tell me more!
Seattle Lover: Well, most of the "ocean" access is dominated by ferries, factories, oil tankers, fishing boats, and just general pollution. You just have to drive for 3 or 4 hours to get to the actual ocean.
The Mighty Travis: Awesome! It must be easier to live "green" there!
Seattle Lover: Yeah! All those really cool grocery stores have some much better produce and lots more organic products. It's just a lot more expensive, but that is because it is better.
The Mighty Travis: So, why in the fuck did you ever come back to this shit hole Missoula??
Seattle Lover: I moved back in with my parents and I'm working to save up enough money so I can eventually move back out there! Maybe I'll get to stay in Seattle longer this time. Maybe I'll try Portland, I have a friend down there that says that it is like the best place to live.
Cast of Characters
-Seattle Lover: Girl who just returned to Missoula after living in Seattle for a couple of months.
-Friends 1 and 2: Didn't just go to Seattle, stayed in Missoula
-The Mighty Travis
Friend 1: So how was it, how was Seattle?
Seattle Lover: It was so great! I love it there. There are so many things that Seattle has that Missoula doesn't!
Friend 2: Like what?
Seattle Lover: There is so much to do, so much culture, it is beautiful, the ocean is right there, live music all the time, tons or art galleries, great places to live, all my friends are there now, great food, way cooler bars and nightlife.
Friend 1: That sounds great!
Seattle Lover: Yeah! You know what else Seattle has that Missoula doesn't?
Friends 1 and 2: What?
Seattle Lover: Let me tell you! More thrift shops, better used clothes shops, awesome grocery stores, better recycling, better bus system, amazing independent record stores, tons of places to buy vinyl, and even more amazing wilderness and outdoor activities. It is so much easier to go on a hike out there, then here.
Friends 1 and 2: Wow!!
Seattle Lover: Yeah! There is so many things there that Missoula doesn't have!
The Mighty Travis: So, why in the fuck would you ever move back to Missoula??
Seattle Lover: It costs too much to live there, it is hard to find a place to live, rent is too high, beers are 8 bucks, it rains 98% of the time, it costs too much to own a car, you can't afford to live with in walking distance of those great thrift stores and most of the time you still have to pay for recycling. But, that's what you have to put up with to live somewhere that is so cool!
The Mighty Travis: Wow! Tell me more!
Seattle Lover: Well, most of the "ocean" access is dominated by ferries, factories, oil tankers, fishing boats, and just general pollution. You just have to drive for 3 or 4 hours to get to the actual ocean.
The Mighty Travis: Awesome! It must be easier to live "green" there!
Seattle Lover: Yeah! All those really cool grocery stores have some much better produce and lots more organic products. It's just a lot more expensive, but that is because it is better.
The Mighty Travis: So, why in the fuck did you ever come back to this shit hole Missoula??
Seattle Lover: I moved back in with my parents and I'm working to save up enough money so I can eventually move back out there! Maybe I'll get to stay in Seattle longer this time. Maybe I'll try Portland, I have a friend down there that says that it is like the best place to live.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Travis Sings?
Not really! Go here and check out what I did tonight! At least I remembered the words.
http://youtube.com/watch?v=OHgUYo96lcY
http://youtube.com/watch?v=OHgUYo96lcY
Monday, February 25, 2008
Cell Phones
I love my cell phone. Chances are, I hate yours.
I'm all about technology. I love the little gadgets that make life a little easier. I love the digital age and all the shit your have to buy to participate. I've owned palm pilots, iPods, laptops, ebook readers, cameras, GPS, and tons of other shit with touch screens. I buy and sell electronic devices more often then Liquid Planet hires new employees. All I can say is...the cell phone thing is out of control.
The Mighty Travis' Suggestions for NOT being the asshole of society:
A. Your friend's joke wasn't that funny, stop laughing so hard.
B. I know that it's cold out, why are you telling me?
C. Your cell phone is not like the phone you grew up with.
Just a few years ago, when you heard the phone ring, you arose from the couch, answered the phone and had a conversation with your friend or family member while in the privacy of your own home. Since the telephone doesn't include a studio quality microphone and speakers, both parties spoke quite loudly so you didn't have to keep saying "what" or repeating yourself. You also talked about everything from the tedious and boring to the most disgusting and unreasonable, because it is a private conversation being shared by 2 consenting adults. The only difference between that phone and your cell phone is that you are now screaming to your friend about how pads with wings really are better while I'm sitting here trying to enjoy my razzleberry pie and coffee. I cannot stand to hear the bullshit that husbands and wives say to each other during the "please let this all end, make sure to pick up the dry cleaning" phone call. I actually don't want to hear those conversations so badly, that I don't break into your home and hide naked behind your shower curtain and spy on you. I'm doing you a favor. So why in the fuck do you choose to bring that phone call to me. I'm talking about the stupid college blond, squawking about how she got so drunk that she didn't mind having 3 dicks in her the night before. I'm talking about the guy who thinks the world is his office and that nobody minds him yelling about his roofing business. What about the kid who must do the "wander-stumble-sideways-backwards-one-footed-touch-everything-I-think-I'm-alone-because-I'm-on-the-phone-dance" right in front of the deposit slips at the bank. Do you ride your bike in your house? No? Really? You mean you never rode your bike in the kitchen while talking on the phone? So what made you think it is OK to talk to your sister while you swerve in and out of the bike lane? Are you really that busy and get so many calls that you can't stand in line at the cashier and not scream about your last doctor's visit? Why are your arms so tired that you need that stupid-ass bluetooth headset hanging off your ear? So you can drive safely? So you can order your McDonald's latte and still talk on the phone? How did industry, business, and boring-daily-family-affairs ever get taken care of before the cell phone? For you big-purse-carrying-the-world-on-my-shoulder-with-cute-straps-ladies...you have a decision to make. You can either carry the phone in your pocket with the vibrate on or turn it off and leave it in the bag. Because if I have to hear the shitty ringtone version of "I Will Survive" while you rummage through your "tote of denial", I will set you on fire with the magnifying glass, tissue, and hairspray you found during the second verse. Your call from Mary-Kay-Avon-Arbonne-Pampered-Chef can wait.
I'm no king of etiquette, but if the call is so goddamn important, answer with a quiet, "Hi, just one second" and either call them back or excuse yourself to the sidewalk or your car. Heaven forbid you miss a call from your buddy who was asshole enough to call when he only had 2 minutes spare.
The best thing about technology making things smaller and more portable is people being able to take their hobbies into public. I hope the coffee shops enjoy some of my really intense drum solos.
I'm all about technology. I love the little gadgets that make life a little easier. I love the digital age and all the shit your have to buy to participate. I've owned palm pilots, iPods, laptops, ebook readers, cameras, GPS, and tons of other shit with touch screens. I buy and sell electronic devices more often then Liquid Planet hires new employees. All I can say is...the cell phone thing is out of control.
The Mighty Travis' Suggestions for NOT being the asshole of society:
A. Your friend's joke wasn't that funny, stop laughing so hard.
B. I know that it's cold out, why are you telling me?
C. Your cell phone is not like the phone you grew up with.
Just a few years ago, when you heard the phone ring, you arose from the couch, answered the phone and had a conversation with your friend or family member while in the privacy of your own home. Since the telephone doesn't include a studio quality microphone and speakers, both parties spoke quite loudly so you didn't have to keep saying "what" or repeating yourself. You also talked about everything from the tedious and boring to the most disgusting and unreasonable, because it is a private conversation being shared by 2 consenting adults. The only difference between that phone and your cell phone is that you are now screaming to your friend about how pads with wings really are better while I'm sitting here trying to enjoy my razzleberry pie and coffee. I cannot stand to hear the bullshit that husbands and wives say to each other during the "please let this all end, make sure to pick up the dry cleaning" phone call. I actually don't want to hear those conversations so badly, that I don't break into your home and hide naked behind your shower curtain and spy on you. I'm doing you a favor. So why in the fuck do you choose to bring that phone call to me. I'm talking about the stupid college blond, squawking about how she got so drunk that she didn't mind having 3 dicks in her the night before. I'm talking about the guy who thinks the world is his office and that nobody minds him yelling about his roofing business. What about the kid who must do the "wander-stumble-sideways-backwards-one-footed-touch-everything-I-think-I'm-alone-because-I'm-on-the-phone-dance" right in front of the deposit slips at the bank. Do you ride your bike in your house? No? Really? You mean you never rode your bike in the kitchen while talking on the phone? So what made you think it is OK to talk to your sister while you swerve in and out of the bike lane? Are you really that busy and get so many calls that you can't stand in line at the cashier and not scream about your last doctor's visit? Why are your arms so tired that you need that stupid-ass bluetooth headset hanging off your ear? So you can drive safely? So you can order your McDonald's latte and still talk on the phone? How did industry, business, and boring-daily-family-affairs ever get taken care of before the cell phone? For you big-purse-carrying-the-world-on-my-shoulder-with-cute-straps-ladies...you have a decision to make. You can either carry the phone in your pocket with the vibrate on or turn it off and leave it in the bag. Because if I have to hear the shitty ringtone version of "I Will Survive" while you rummage through your "tote of denial", I will set you on fire with the magnifying glass, tissue, and hairspray you found during the second verse. Your call from Mary-Kay-Avon-Arbonne-Pampered-Chef can wait.
I'm no king of etiquette, but if the call is so goddamn important, answer with a quiet, "Hi, just one second" and either call them back or excuse yourself to the sidewalk or your car. Heaven forbid you miss a call from your buddy who was asshole enough to call when he only had 2 minutes spare.
The best thing about technology making things smaller and more portable is people being able to take their hobbies into public. I hope the coffee shops enjoy some of my really intense drum solos.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Where's the new blog?
Shut your mouth. How about that?
Just joking. If your reading this, than you have been waiting weeks for a new blog from the brain of the Mighty Travis. So a few updates...
I've been sick for the last 2 days. I've been hurling worse then the morning after a $100, guilt ridden night of underage girls and Stockmans Bar. Really, I have been able to hold down the Gatorade for about an hour before I get to experience the thrill and excitement of such extreme flavors like, Glacial Frost and Fierce Berry yet again. Before you jump on the "Oh God, you have the flu!" bandwagon, I can assure you the culprit is actually a certain burrito joint well known for it's use of aluminum foil. I'm not going to stop going, I will just stop ordering the fish. Now that I'm 7 pounds lighter and feeling a little better, all I want is a burger from the Mo-Club.
Next.
Outside of my front door is a tiny spot of gravel surrounded by my neighbor's fence and my driveway. It is where my lazy ass chooses for my dog to shit when it is the middle of the night and I stand shivering in the doorway. Throughout the winter it is also where I piled most of the snow from my driveway. Picture a couple months of dogshit with 10 to 15 major snowfalls in a spot that only gets like 30 minutes of sunshine. It is a little archeological dig of dogshit. As the snow melts it leaves the dogshit behind like boulders trapped inside a glacier. With the new layer of snow each week my dog could always find new spots. Now my dog won't even leave the cement to walk on it and refuses to shit until I walk him to the alley. Soon the snow will melt and all will be left is the memories of a frozen Missoula winter.
Next.
Be sure to check out my camera phone blog. The link is up in the corner and don't worry there are no pictures of my wee-wee.
Just joking. If your reading this, than you have been waiting weeks for a new blog from the brain of the Mighty Travis. So a few updates...
I've been sick for the last 2 days. I've been hurling worse then the morning after a $100, guilt ridden night of underage girls and Stockmans Bar. Really, I have been able to hold down the Gatorade for about an hour before I get to experience the thrill and excitement of such extreme flavors like, Glacial Frost and Fierce Berry yet again. Before you jump on the "Oh God, you have the flu!" bandwagon, I can assure you the culprit is actually a certain burrito joint well known for it's use of aluminum foil. I'm not going to stop going, I will just stop ordering the fish. Now that I'm 7 pounds lighter and feeling a little better, all I want is a burger from the Mo-Club.
Next.
Outside of my front door is a tiny spot of gravel surrounded by my neighbor's fence and my driveway. It is where my lazy ass chooses for my dog to shit when it is the middle of the night and I stand shivering in the doorway. Throughout the winter it is also where I piled most of the snow from my driveway. Picture a couple months of dogshit with 10 to 15 major snowfalls in a spot that only gets like 30 minutes of sunshine. It is a little archeological dig of dogshit. As the snow melts it leaves the dogshit behind like boulders trapped inside a glacier. With the new layer of snow each week my dog could always find new spots. Now my dog won't even leave the cement to walk on it and refuses to shit until I walk him to the alley. Soon the snow will melt and all will be left is the memories of a frozen Missoula winter.
Next.
Be sure to check out my camera phone blog. The link is up in the corner and don't worry there are no pictures of my wee-wee.
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
Put on some damn pants!
It is cold out. Before I go outside I usually put on a hoodie and my light down jacket with some gloves. Maybe even a hat. While I'm out in the valley it might get colder, it might snow, you never know. If I arrive at my destination, I might take the coat off, but it there is not a chance I'm taking the hoodie off.
So what the fuck is with these guys with shorts on???? What sort of uber-macho-masculin-bullshit is this??? Listen tough guy, I know it's only a 10 foot walk from your SUV to the IronHorse, but you look like a douchebag. The "chicks dig tough guys thing" only works in High School and maybe some parts of Canada. It is cold out and you should be acting accordingly.
Next...
Neighbor Update!!!
He moved out of the artist space/garage next door! He was using that space as his studio and he was living across town. Guess what? He moved out of both places and found a new house that he uses as both....3 doors down the alley...I see him even more now. Even better? He even has started to show up at Cleric's shows...I'm in hell.
So what the fuck is with these guys with shorts on???? What sort of uber-macho-masculin-bullshit is this??? Listen tough guy, I know it's only a 10 foot walk from your SUV to the IronHorse, but you look like a douchebag. The "chicks dig tough guys thing" only works in High School and maybe some parts of Canada. It is cold out and you should be acting accordingly.
Next...
Neighbor Update!!!
He moved out of the artist space/garage next door! He was using that space as his studio and he was living across town. Guess what? He moved out of both places and found a new house that he uses as both....3 doors down the alley...I see him even more now. Even better? He even has started to show up at Cleric's shows...I'm in hell.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Finally, a blog about bathrooms
Alright! We have some shit to get through. This blog is not for those who don't like to talk about poopin'. Topic to cover:
Using Public Restrooms
My biggest issue with leaving the house is, "What if I have to use a public restroom?" OK, if I have to take a piss, most bathrooms will be fine. Take a shit? It is easier for Mayor John Engen to fit into his Mini Cooper. (or an african american into the oval office) It is all about cleanliness and privacy. I have a very short mental list of acceptable places to shit in Missoula. Now you could be in the most typical of Men's restrooms with a couple of urinals and a couple of stalls, or you could be in the single toilet, locking door situation. Let me run you through an average visit. First thing when I walk in, I inspect the "wetness" of the bathroom. If if looks like a dog was bathed or a children's pool party happened, I will wait. If the bathroom does not have adequate ventilation and I can smell the last 10 uses, I will run screaming. I now inspect every open stall. I'm looking for "clean". I mean flushed, no urine on the seat, or spray on the back of the bowl. The approved stall must not be directly next to an occupied stall, I'm not here to enjoy someone's presence 13 inches away from my naked ass. The stall must have a full roll of toilet paper and the lock has to keep the door locked. I now proceed to be as quiet as possible. I don't want people to think I'm just sitting in there, but I also don't want them to know the consistency of my download. I think the most disturbing thing for other bathroom users is the amount of toilet paper that I use. I do most everything I can to save the environment, but when it comes to the cleanliness of my ass crack, fuck the environment. I sling out 4 to 5 foot section which is then crumpled into a "wipe flower", for coverage of the entire hand and wrist. I repeat 5 to 6 times. Flush with the foot and head for the sink.
If I'm in the single toilet, door lock situation, the process is the same. Except, my paranoia of the next person walking into the war zone that I created usually makes me wait for a better situation.
So, what the fuck is with the unflushed toilet? Who is the person that fills the bowl, wipes, then leaves this surprise for me to discover. Other then toilet operation failure, there is no reason to leave anything behind. Even stranger is the full bowl with no toilet paper. What sort of magic asshole does this person possess. Also, who thinks it is OK to urinate all over the seat and the flush handle. We all know what a "pee shiver" is, and there is now shiver big enough to make you spray urine all over. That is the kind of shit that makes me not want to get out of bed in the morning.
John Sporman, this one is for you.
Using Public Restrooms
My biggest issue with leaving the house is, "What if I have to use a public restroom?" OK, if I have to take a piss, most bathrooms will be fine. Take a shit? It is easier for Mayor John Engen to fit into his Mini Cooper. (or an african american into the oval office) It is all about cleanliness and privacy. I have a very short mental list of acceptable places to shit in Missoula. Now you could be in the most typical of Men's restrooms with a couple of urinals and a couple of stalls, or you could be in the single toilet, locking door situation. Let me run you through an average visit. First thing when I walk in, I inspect the "wetness" of the bathroom. If if looks like a dog was bathed or a children's pool party happened, I will wait. If the bathroom does not have adequate ventilation and I can smell the last 10 uses, I will run screaming. I now inspect every open stall. I'm looking for "clean". I mean flushed, no urine on the seat, or spray on the back of the bowl. The approved stall must not be directly next to an occupied stall, I'm not here to enjoy someone's presence 13 inches away from my naked ass. The stall must have a full roll of toilet paper and the lock has to keep the door locked. I now proceed to be as quiet as possible. I don't want people to think I'm just sitting in there, but I also don't want them to know the consistency of my download. I think the most disturbing thing for other bathroom users is the amount of toilet paper that I use. I do most everything I can to save the environment, but when it comes to the cleanliness of my ass crack, fuck the environment. I sling out 4 to 5 foot section which is then crumpled into a "wipe flower", for coverage of the entire hand and wrist. I repeat 5 to 6 times. Flush with the foot and head for the sink.
If I'm in the single toilet, door lock situation, the process is the same. Except, my paranoia of the next person walking into the war zone that I created usually makes me wait for a better situation.
So, what the fuck is with the unflushed toilet? Who is the person that fills the bowl, wipes, then leaves this surprise for me to discover. Other then toilet operation failure, there is no reason to leave anything behind. Even stranger is the full bowl with no toilet paper. What sort of magic asshole does this person possess. Also, who thinks it is OK to urinate all over the seat and the flush handle. We all know what a "pee shiver" is, and there is now shiver big enough to make you spray urine all over. That is the kind of shit that makes me not want to get out of bed in the morning.
John Sporman, this one is for you.
Monday, January 14, 2008
More People I Hate
Now that we've gotten the 4-way stop issue out of the way...let's talk about parking and the people that park that way.
"The Mighty Travis' Rules of Parking"
1. Don't be a dick.
2. The lines painted on the ground are not "suggestions".
3. Parallel parking is back-in ONLY.
4. Waiting for another car to pull out is not allowed.
I don't give a shit if there is 3 feet of snow on the ground, you know where the lines are. Use any method necessary to find where the spot actually is. Use the parking meter on the sidewalk, the cement "car stopper" at the end of the parking spot, or get out of your car and LOOK. I'm sure you can figure it out, use common sense.
Punishment for taking up 2 spots: I throw up on your windshield.
I don't care if you have a PhD or it took you 3 years to get a GED, pulling in to a parallel parking spot head first is dumb. It takes longer and is completely ridiculous. If you have to put the car into reverse more then 3 times, you are wasting my time. If you have to drive on the curb, you are a failure in life. We all learned how to do it correctly.
Punishment for pulling in head first: Spouse and 3 kids. Got those already? Now you have 2.
We've all been to Costco. We've all driven around the first 2 rows or spots nearest to the door, hoping the 4 people in front of us just happened to miss the one open spot. That is where it ends, you give up and go to the side of the building or back by the gas pumps. You DO NOT sit and wait for the family of 12 to load children, bulk items, and grandma's wheelchair. Just remember there are people like me, that start the car, put my foot on the brake, car in reverse...while I eat my Polish dog, piece of pizza, and "very berry yogurt delight". Is there really that much difference between a 100 foot walk and a 300 foot walk. Grow up, life sucks, walk a little. Bonus: Parking in the back puts your closer to the exit.
Punishment for parking-spot-hovering: You die alone and angry. There is nothing better then being impatient with death.
"The Mighty Travis' Rules of Parking"
1. Don't be a dick.
2. The lines painted on the ground are not "suggestions".
3. Parallel parking is back-in ONLY.
4. Waiting for another car to pull out is not allowed.
I don't give a shit if there is 3 feet of snow on the ground, you know where the lines are. Use any method necessary to find where the spot actually is. Use the parking meter on the sidewalk, the cement "car stopper" at the end of the parking spot, or get out of your car and LOOK. I'm sure you can figure it out, use common sense.
Punishment for taking up 2 spots: I throw up on your windshield.
I don't care if you have a PhD or it took you 3 years to get a GED, pulling in to a parallel parking spot head first is dumb. It takes longer and is completely ridiculous. If you have to put the car into reverse more then 3 times, you are wasting my time. If you have to drive on the curb, you are a failure in life. We all learned how to do it correctly.
Punishment for pulling in head first: Spouse and 3 kids. Got those already? Now you have 2.
We've all been to Costco. We've all driven around the first 2 rows or spots nearest to the door, hoping the 4 people in front of us just happened to miss the one open spot. That is where it ends, you give up and go to the side of the building or back by the gas pumps. You DO NOT sit and wait for the family of 12 to load children, bulk items, and grandma's wheelchair. Just remember there are people like me, that start the car, put my foot on the brake, car in reverse...while I eat my Polish dog, piece of pizza, and "very berry yogurt delight". Is there really that much difference between a 100 foot walk and a 300 foot walk. Grow up, life sucks, walk a little. Bonus: Parking in the back puts your closer to the exit.
Punishment for parking-spot-hovering: You die alone and angry. There is nothing better then being impatient with death.
Thursday, January 3, 2008
Let's Have a Four-Way
Let the bitching begin.
4-way stops. When did the law change to allow for so many options? (It didn't) When did people decide that they would take the law into their own hands and do whatever they felt? The 4-way stop is the greatest example of the decline of society and the failure of democracy. If it turns out that hell exists, the 4-way stop is where I will spend eternity. Let's start with...
"The Mighty Travis' Rules of 4-way Stops"
1. First come, first serve.
2. BE STILL
3. Yield to the right. Give the "Right away".
4. Politeness is NOT allowed.
5. Use common sense.
The 4-way stop is based on a first come, first serve system. (just to get your mind where mine is, picture the 4-way stop on Palmer behind Target) If you get there before someone, you go before someone. No matter which way you are turning or not turning. Check. If you get there at the same time as someone, whoever is on the right of the other gets to go. Check. If someone is going straight and you are going straight in the opposite direction, you can go to just to save time, because you are the only one that can. Check. If you are turning right...get the fuck out of my way. Check. Check. The only other thing that I ask is...when you get to the stop sign and you are the next in line, STOP YOUR GODDAMN CAR...if I think you are going to pull in front of me, I will stop, then you will wave me on, then move your car again, then I will stop, get out of my car and jump through your windshield and steal one of your children for my labor camp. No kids? Fine, your cell phone, (that is making your decision making skills way harder then they should be) will end up in the middle of the 4-way stop, dialing a call to Jakarta, while I take a shit on it.
P.S. Bob Wire, don't worry about the "misprint", you'll just have to do some research and dedicate a blog to just how great the "Mighty Travis" is...and can be.
4-way stops. When did the law change to allow for so many options? (It didn't) When did people decide that they would take the law into their own hands and do whatever they felt? The 4-way stop is the greatest example of the decline of society and the failure of democracy. If it turns out that hell exists, the 4-way stop is where I will spend eternity. Let's start with...
"The Mighty Travis' Rules of 4-way Stops"
1. First come, first serve.
2. BE STILL
3. Yield to the right. Give the "Right away".
4. Politeness is NOT allowed.
5. Use common sense.
The 4-way stop is based on a first come, first serve system. (just to get your mind where mine is, picture the 4-way stop on Palmer behind Target) If you get there before someone, you go before someone. No matter which way you are turning or not turning. Check. If you get there at the same time as someone, whoever is on the right of the other gets to go. Check. If someone is going straight and you are going straight in the opposite direction, you can go to just to save time, because you are the only one that can. Check. If you are turning right...get the fuck out of my way. Check. Check. The only other thing that I ask is...when you get to the stop sign and you are the next in line, STOP YOUR GODDAMN CAR...if I think you are going to pull in front of me, I will stop, then you will wave me on, then move your car again, then I will stop, get out of my car and jump through your windshield and steal one of your children for my labor camp. No kids? Fine, your cell phone, (that is making your decision making skills way harder then they should be) will end up in the middle of the 4-way stop, dialing a call to Jakarta, while I take a shit on it.
P.S. Bob Wire, don't worry about the "misprint", you'll just have to do some research and dedicate a blog to just how great the "Mighty Travis" is...and can be.
Friday, December 28, 2007
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Sorry...
It is totally lame to write in my blog about how I'm not writing in my blog, but I need to inform y'all of the photo series that I'm putting up here in a couple of days....can you say bathroom art?
Monday, December 3, 2007
So Fresh and So Clean Clean
Tide, Clorox, Snuggle
washer, dryer, hangers, fold
waiting, sitting, hum
I love doing my laundry. I take great pride in the the separation process, the wash cycle, and the folding system. You know the feeling you get when you walk in to Rockin' Rudy's on a busy Saturday, that is what it is like inside my head. Just like my friends, family, coworkers, and neighbors, even I need a break from me. I value the 2 hours of laundry that I do nothing but stare at the clear window of drying shirts and jeans. I enjoy the time to sit on a running washer and kick my legs back and forth. I just want to relax and kick back with the hum of the machines.
excuse me, sorry?
are those your dryer sheets?
can I use your soap?
So, you're sitting at home thinking about all that laundry you have to do. You put it all in the baskets and bags, and put it into the back seat of the car. You've got quarters and your new book. You are about to start your car. Wait! Do me a god-damned favor and stop. Stop and think. What else do you need? What are you missing? Soap, Detergent, El Washero Fluido. Grab it from your house or pick some up on the way, because if you ask me for some, I will snap. I know you don't want to buy the single serving of soap out of the vending machine for 12 bucks, but neither do I, that is why I brought soap with me. Luckily, some of the laundry mats in town now offer free soap. The last time someone asked me for soap, before I could start the rant, the woman with 11 loads said, "Ugh!, I hate that kind of soap!"
sneak, tug, roll away
is this one yours? just a sec!
five to one baskets
There are 20 people using 40 washers and dryers, taking up 13 tables. All the while, watching ONE TV and "sharing" FOUR rolling baskets. There is no better social experiment then watching 20 people watch something on TV they all hate, at the risk that someone else is enjoying the program. Listen ma'am, nobody likes the 700 Club, but you. So, if you manage to tear yourself away from Fox News to move your laundry from the washer to the dryer, now you will have to find a basket with wheels. No one wants to use their own flimsy plastic basket for this job, it sits on the floor for god's sake! You've had that thing since freshmen year, it is for getting the clothes to and from the laundry mat and for moving your kitchen shit from apartment to apartment, only. Now, if you find a basket that is not holding (or being held by) someone's coat, purse, and laundry stuff, you grab that thing and don't look back. Throw your clothes in it, ride it around, put a bike lock on it. Every once in a while we make mistakes. I asked a woman if she was using a "free" basket, she said "Not right this second, if you need it for a minute, I don't need it for 10 minutes." She let me "borrow" the basket, only for her to follow me to my washer and dryer and watch as if suddenly I was going to "David Copperfield" the basket out from under her and she would be left to fend for herself. After the last trip, "Are you done?" She then took the basket back to her spot in front of "Family Feud" and the latest Mary Higgins Clark trash, where it sat unused for 20 minutes.
fold the t-shirts, hang
the pants, ball the socks, buttons
zippers, pockets, pink!
The next time I do my laundry I'm turning the TV to the local access channel and using 2 baskets for myself.
washer, dryer, hangers, fold
waiting, sitting, hum
I love doing my laundry. I take great pride in the the separation process, the wash cycle, and the folding system. You know the feeling you get when you walk in to Rockin' Rudy's on a busy Saturday, that is what it is like inside my head. Just like my friends, family, coworkers, and neighbors, even I need a break from me. I value the 2 hours of laundry that I do nothing but stare at the clear window of drying shirts and jeans. I enjoy the time to sit on a running washer and kick my legs back and forth. I just want to relax and kick back with the hum of the machines.
excuse me, sorry?
are those your dryer sheets?
can I use your soap?
So, you're sitting at home thinking about all that laundry you have to do. You put it all in the baskets and bags, and put it into the back seat of the car. You've got quarters and your new book. You are about to start your car. Wait! Do me a god-damned favor and stop. Stop and think. What else do you need? What are you missing? Soap, Detergent, El Washero Fluido. Grab it from your house or pick some up on the way, because if you ask me for some, I will snap. I know you don't want to buy the single serving of soap out of the vending machine for 12 bucks, but neither do I, that is why I brought soap with me. Luckily, some of the laundry mats in town now offer free soap. The last time someone asked me for soap, before I could start the rant, the woman with 11 loads said, "Ugh!, I hate that kind of soap!"
sneak, tug, roll away
is this one yours? just a sec!
five to one baskets
There are 20 people using 40 washers and dryers, taking up 13 tables. All the while, watching ONE TV and "sharing" FOUR rolling baskets. There is no better social experiment then watching 20 people watch something on TV they all hate, at the risk that someone else is enjoying the program. Listen ma'am, nobody likes the 700 Club, but you. So, if you manage to tear yourself away from Fox News to move your laundry from the washer to the dryer, now you will have to find a basket with wheels. No one wants to use their own flimsy plastic basket for this job, it sits on the floor for god's sake! You've had that thing since freshmen year, it is for getting the clothes to and from the laundry mat and for moving your kitchen shit from apartment to apartment, only. Now, if you find a basket that is not holding (or being held by) someone's coat, purse, and laundry stuff, you grab that thing and don't look back. Throw your clothes in it, ride it around, put a bike lock on it. Every once in a while we make mistakes. I asked a woman if she was using a "free" basket, she said "Not right this second, if you need it for a minute, I don't need it for 10 minutes." She let me "borrow" the basket, only for her to follow me to my washer and dryer and watch as if suddenly I was going to "David Copperfield" the basket out from under her and she would be left to fend for herself. After the last trip, "Are you done?" She then took the basket back to her spot in front of "Family Feud" and the latest Mary Higgins Clark trash, where it sat unused for 20 minutes.
fold the t-shirts, hang
the pants, ball the socks, buttons
zippers, pockets, pink!
The next time I do my laundry I'm turning the TV to the local access channel and using 2 baskets for myself.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
A Trivial Pursuit of the History of Violence of Bourbon
I'm not hip. I'm not really that up to date. That's 'cause I'm Old School. I like getting the boys together. I enjoy a cigar and a little bourbon. I enjoy the batting cages. I actually even enjoy some games...
I don't like playing cards. Games of luck and "skill" are not what makes a bulge in my shorts. I prefer any game that turns me into a pompus, irrational prick, mainly, Trivial Pursuit. Monopoly is OK, Poker is boring, I have never played chess, Risk takes a minimum of 2 years, Life is for little girls, Cranium is for newlyweds and their newlywed friends, Uno is for church camp, Yahtzee is what you play while writing a suicide note, and Pictionary is an acceptable reason for divorce. I like Scrabble and Scatagories...but...
...Trivial Pursuit.
Ooohh, Trivial Pursuit. (insert orgasm here) I'm not good at most things and my lifestyle is unacceptable to most, but I dominate at Trivial Pursuit. I'm loud, obnoxious, and violent when I play the game. Don't be surprised if when I come over to your house and you want to play, that I grab the back of your grandmother's head, kick you in the face, and break your sisters arm with my aggressive dominance. After years of small talk, Wikipedia, the History Channel, and just out-right-nerdery, I will have complete reign over your living room coffee table. I usually prefer some room for me to jump up suddenly, do a Tiger Woods celebration move and try to do a back flip off of your antique end table. I also like to keep my hands occupied with striking implements for hitting people's exposed thighs and your cat, if I haven't scared it away with my shrieks of joy and screams of pain. You want the big show? Add some bourbon to the situation. Even better? A bottle of Champagne to shake up and spray at you like I've just been drafted by the Calgary Stampeders. Heaven forbid we play the version that has a DVD, I might just "Elvis" your TV. Don't get me wrong, I might answer 20 straight questions right, then blow 30. Who knows? I just hope your neighbors are cool with having a emotionally driven trivia master prone to violence and tantrums rocking the shit out of you at 3 in the morning. Or getting rocked and sobbing uncontrollably. Wait! I can smoke my Cigar in your house?! Get the fire exstinguisher ready or cover your uncovered skin. I will set your house on fire, then hold you down, burning your face, just because I knew the difference between immigrant and emmigrant.
Make sure to invite me to your next game night.
I don't like playing cards. Games of luck and "skill" are not what makes a bulge in my shorts. I prefer any game that turns me into a pompus, irrational prick, mainly, Trivial Pursuit. Monopoly is OK, Poker is boring, I have never played chess, Risk takes a minimum of 2 years, Life is for little girls, Cranium is for newlyweds and their newlywed friends, Uno is for church camp, Yahtzee is what you play while writing a suicide note, and Pictionary is an acceptable reason for divorce. I like Scrabble and Scatagories...but...
...Trivial Pursuit.
Ooohh, Trivial Pursuit. (insert orgasm here) I'm not good at most things and my lifestyle is unacceptable to most, but I dominate at Trivial Pursuit. I'm loud, obnoxious, and violent when I play the game. Don't be surprised if when I come over to your house and you want to play, that I grab the back of your grandmother's head, kick you in the face, and break your sisters arm with my aggressive dominance. After years of small talk, Wikipedia, the History Channel, and just out-right-nerdery, I will have complete reign over your living room coffee table. I usually prefer some room for me to jump up suddenly, do a Tiger Woods celebration move and try to do a back flip off of your antique end table. I also like to keep my hands occupied with striking implements for hitting people's exposed thighs and your cat, if I haven't scared it away with my shrieks of joy and screams of pain. You want the big show? Add some bourbon to the situation. Even better? A bottle of Champagne to shake up and spray at you like I've just been drafted by the Calgary Stampeders. Heaven forbid we play the version that has a DVD, I might just "Elvis" your TV. Don't get me wrong, I might answer 20 straight questions right, then blow 30. Who knows? I just hope your neighbors are cool with having a emotionally driven trivia master prone to violence and tantrums rocking the shit out of you at 3 in the morning. Or getting rocked and sobbing uncontrollably. Wait! I can smoke my Cigar in your house?! Get the fire exstinguisher ready or cover your uncovered skin. I will set your house on fire, then hold you down, burning your face, just because I knew the difference between immigrant and emmigrant.
Make sure to invite me to your next game night.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Bus Trip/Absinthe
Because I wanted to go see a cute girl in Bozeman and I'm running out of Blog material...I took a Greyhound Bus Trip!
With the current gas prices, I found out that it is actually cheaper for me to take the Greyhound then it is to take the "Millennium Turtle". So I got online and bought myself a round trip ticket to Bozeman from Missoula. I've been on the bus plenty and I know what to expect.
1. Bored, loud children
2. Someone will freak out or make a scene
3. Someone will want to talk to me
I wasn't on the bus 15 minutes before a 20 something girl with bruises sat down next to me and asked, "Do you like Jeff Foxworthy and Larry the Cable Guy?" Believe it or not...I'm not an asshole right away. I got 5 or so hours to be trapped in this aluminum, tinted window hell and I don't need someone trying to stab me while I sleep with my head pinned between the window and the seat. I reply, "Sure, it's not really my thing, but it's kinda funny." According to the clock on my phone, she recited bits and pieces of "redneck" humor for over half an hour. From Bearmouth to Drummond. To move her away from the subject of the "Blue Collar Comedy Tour" I asked her where she is headed. In one breath, rehearsed from saying it to 100 people over the last 1000 miles....
"I'm on Parole and I'm heading back to Wichita to pick up my kids from my Mom's house, where they lived for the last 2 years 'cause I was in jail for stabbin' my ex-husband with a big ol' knife."
"No shit?" I even asked her to repeat it so I could write it down.
"Can I use your iPod?"
**********************************************************
Next. Absinthe has been made legal in the US for the first time since 1915. Now, I'm not a drug person. I drink too much and then I steal a drag off of someone's cigarette, but that is it. During the years of 2004 and 2005 I smoked pot 12 times and I hated it 11 times. Nothing else. There is way to much crazy shit going on in my head to add a reaction from a drug. I already have issues with reality.
but...
Absinthe.
The "green fairy" and I get along nicely.
Remember, End of the Year Giftgiving is right around the corner...
With the current gas prices, I found out that it is actually cheaper for me to take the Greyhound then it is to take the "Millennium Turtle". So I got online and bought myself a round trip ticket to Bozeman from Missoula. I've been on the bus plenty and I know what to expect.
1. Bored, loud children
2. Someone will freak out or make a scene
3. Someone will want to talk to me
I wasn't on the bus 15 minutes before a 20 something girl with bruises sat down next to me and asked, "Do you like Jeff Foxworthy and Larry the Cable Guy?" Believe it or not...I'm not an asshole right away. I got 5 or so hours to be trapped in this aluminum, tinted window hell and I don't need someone trying to stab me while I sleep with my head pinned between the window and the seat. I reply, "Sure, it's not really my thing, but it's kinda funny." According to the clock on my phone, she recited bits and pieces of "redneck" humor for over half an hour. From Bearmouth to Drummond. To move her away from the subject of the "Blue Collar Comedy Tour" I asked her where she is headed. In one breath, rehearsed from saying it to 100 people over the last 1000 miles....
"I'm on Parole and I'm heading back to Wichita to pick up my kids from my Mom's house, where they lived for the last 2 years 'cause I was in jail for stabbin' my ex-husband with a big ol' knife."
"No shit?" I even asked her to repeat it so I could write it down.
"Can I use your iPod?"
**********************************************************
Next. Absinthe has been made legal in the US for the first time since 1915. Now, I'm not a drug person. I drink too much and then I steal a drag off of someone's cigarette, but that is it. During the years of 2004 and 2005 I smoked pot 12 times and I hated it 11 times. Nothing else. There is way to much crazy shit going on in my head to add a reaction from a drug. I already have issues with reality.
but...
Absinthe.
The "green fairy" and I get along nicely.
Remember, End of the Year Giftgiving is right around the corner...
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
I'm a Silly Lazy Bitch
If you would've asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up when I was 7 years old, I would have answered, barber/drummer/pizza delivery guy. 15 years old, forest ranger/drummer/bartender. 18 years old, music teacher/drummer/writer. 23, drummer/radio DJ/barista. Now that I'm almost 26 I can tell you what I really want to be...Drummer/Housewife.
I make a great living with this whole bar musician thing and wish it would be much more and I'm very thankful for the career, but it is the service industry/food and beverage thing I want to stop. I have dated plenty of girls that are lost in the hopeless search for a career and have settled on the idea of a "man" to "handle" the "financial burden". That is 500 years of the "man of the house" bullshit that I'm up against. Recently I've discovered females that are more then willing to accept a 50/50 "dutch" way of living. That's great. That is fine. But, fuck that noise. I want a smart, balls to the wall, career minded woman that is willing to let me do the dishes, wash the laundry, cook the dinners, scrub the toilet, and play lots of gigs. (notice how I stuck that last bit in there? let me explain...) Think of a "man" with a job(s) and goals. He wants his new wife to stay at home and handle the "womanly" type things, while he throws money at her hobbies to make sure she feels some fulfillment in her little "extra bedroom of a life". THAT'S WHAT I WANT! Plus, you never know, the music thing might pay off and then we'll have even more money! As my life stands right now, I have only one real plan...win the lottery. Call it a 401K or a salary, but that is it, and most of the time I forget to even buy the ticket. I have zero money in savings and I only work in the service industry just enough to cover what playing music doesn't.
Keep in mind, I'm not looking for a "stay at home dad" title. NO kids. "Stay at home drummer." I would be so proud of my little home with the picket fence and mowed lawn. I'm already obsessed with a clean house (read my blog about cleaning) I could continue my Netflix obsession and play tons of shows and not worry about pesky little things like "Rent", "Debt", or "Doctors".
Put me in an apron and call me Suzy...I'm ready.
I make a great living with this whole bar musician thing and wish it would be much more and I'm very thankful for the career, but it is the service industry/food and beverage thing I want to stop. I have dated plenty of girls that are lost in the hopeless search for a career and have settled on the idea of a "man" to "handle" the "financial burden". That is 500 years of the "man of the house" bullshit that I'm up against. Recently I've discovered females that are more then willing to accept a 50/50 "dutch" way of living. That's great. That is fine. But, fuck that noise. I want a smart, balls to the wall, career minded woman that is willing to let me do the dishes, wash the laundry, cook the dinners, scrub the toilet, and play lots of gigs. (notice how I stuck that last bit in there? let me explain...) Think of a "man" with a job(s) and goals. He wants his new wife to stay at home and handle the "womanly" type things, while he throws money at her hobbies to make sure she feels some fulfillment in her little "extra bedroom of a life". THAT'S WHAT I WANT! Plus, you never know, the music thing might pay off and then we'll have even more money! As my life stands right now, I have only one real plan...win the lottery. Call it a 401K or a salary, but that is it, and most of the time I forget to even buy the ticket. I have zero money in savings and I only work in the service industry just enough to cover what playing music doesn't.
Keep in mind, I'm not looking for a "stay at home dad" title. NO kids. "Stay at home drummer." I would be so proud of my little home with the picket fence and mowed lawn. I'm already obsessed with a clean house (read my blog about cleaning) I could continue my Netflix obsession and play tons of shows and not worry about pesky little things like "Rent", "Debt", or "Doctors".
Put me in an apron and call me Suzy...I'm ready.
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Eating in the Car
Picture yourself on a road trip with some friends or family....after hours in the car and a stop at a road side gas station, you jump back into the car...
Passenger #1: "So Passenger #2, what did you get to eat?"
Passenger #2: "Just some Snickers and a donut, what did you get?"
Passenger #1: "Red Rope licorice and some Gatorade. What about you, Passenger #3?"
Passenger #3: "Some plain chips, Lifesavers, and a bottled water."
Passenger #1: "Hey Trav, did you get anything?"
Travis: "Yes! 2 corndogs, Funyuns, Ranch CornNuts, Gardettos with Rye Chips, a taquito, and a gallon of Coca-cola with a straw!"
I try not to be that guy. You know, crunchy loudly on whatever garlic and ass flavored gem I can find in a plastic bag at TownPump. Anything labeled "Italian Style" or "New Bold Flavor" are likely to make your trip with friends, stressful. So there I am, in the back looking at the hot dogs, polish sausages, and bratwurst, like a dog next to the family barbeque. "Wow! They even have little packets of Onions!" I have also never been afraid to try the corndogs, burritos, chicken tenders, or onion rings they have simmering for weeks next to the cash register. I've even tried the "Hamburger Link". Which, by the way, is a hotdog shaped hamburger they have turning in the machine with the other hotdog shaped hotdogs. I put that shit-shaped-delicacy on a bun and made noises like a prison rape in the back of the van. Before I go any farther, we need to address the Beef Jerky situation. Whether it is in a bag, in a self serve container (with or with out tongs), in a "puck", or in a six-foot-whip, I'm buying it. One of my greatest Montana-pit-stop finds, was the "4-foot-long-one-inch-thick-peppered-teryaki-He-Man-Monster-meat-stick". Thank you TownPump of Rocker, Montana. I actually had to hang it out the window to keep the driver from losing his jalapeno-chili-southwestern-style-corndog all over the dash. Now comes the time when I need to wash this all down. I will usually pick up the largest bottled water and whatever behemoth size of Coke they offer. The 96 ounce cup is the biggest I've seen, so far. Depending on the time of day, I will also pick from the selection of 24 ounce beers.
Grab a couple of straws and no napkins and I'm ready for the next stop.
Passenger #1: "So Passenger #2, what did you get to eat?"
Passenger #2: "Just some Snickers and a donut, what did you get?"
Passenger #1: "Red Rope licorice and some Gatorade. What about you, Passenger #3?"
Passenger #3: "Some plain chips, Lifesavers, and a bottled water."
Passenger #1: "Hey Trav, did you get anything?"
Travis: "Yes! 2 corndogs, Funyuns, Ranch CornNuts, Gardettos with Rye Chips, a taquito, and a gallon of Coca-cola with a straw!"
I try not to be that guy. You know, crunchy loudly on whatever garlic and ass flavored gem I can find in a plastic bag at TownPump. Anything labeled "Italian Style" or "New Bold Flavor" are likely to make your trip with friends, stressful. So there I am, in the back looking at the hot dogs, polish sausages, and bratwurst, like a dog next to the family barbeque. "Wow! They even have little packets of Onions!" I have also never been afraid to try the corndogs, burritos, chicken tenders, or onion rings they have simmering for weeks next to the cash register. I've even tried the "Hamburger Link". Which, by the way, is a hotdog shaped hamburger they have turning in the machine with the other hotdog shaped hotdogs. I put that shit-shaped-delicacy on a bun and made noises like a prison rape in the back of the van. Before I go any farther, we need to address the Beef Jerky situation. Whether it is in a bag, in a self serve container (with or with out tongs), in a "puck", or in a six-foot-whip, I'm buying it. One of my greatest Montana-pit-stop finds, was the "4-foot-long-one-inch-thick-peppered-teryaki-He-Man-Monster-meat-stick". Thank you TownPump of Rocker, Montana. I actually had to hang it out the window to keep the driver from losing his jalapeno-chili-southwestern-style-corndog all over the dash. Now comes the time when I need to wash this all down. I will usually pick up the largest bottled water and whatever behemoth size of Coke they offer. The 96 ounce cup is the biggest I've seen, so far. Depending on the time of day, I will also pick from the selection of 24 ounce beers.
Grab a couple of straws and no napkins and I'm ready for the next stop.
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