I really hate this question. I don't mind if my close, dear friends ask me what my intended plans are for the weekend, but I hate when my boss asks me this. I don't want to reveal my secrets. I want to cherish the approximately 48 hours that I am not obligated to respond to you. I also, for lack of any other way to put, don't want you to know what I am doing.
No, I am not planning on getting arrested or committing an act of treason. No, I simply don't care to share with you what I intend to do. I could simply plan (which is usually the case) to lay around all day long and think about life. I could be planning on watching the Sex and The City marathon that E network shows all day on Saturdays.
The point is, I am going to make up some incredulous tale of what my weekend plans are and I am going to make sure it is nothing like what I really have planned. I just hate the question, "So what are you weekend plans?"
I hate this question sooooooo much that I have come to the conclusion that I need an obligatory response. So, I have decided to have a generic script that goes as follows:
First, I plan on stopping by Quik Trip on my way home. I will then purchase a twenty-four pack of Natural Ice beer, seven scratch off tickets and one philly blunt. I will also grab a buffalo chicken stick and an orange fanta.
Next, when I arrive at my castle I plan on running a half marathon. I will run in nothing but a wife beater and a pair of denim cut-offs. I also plan on tweeting the same time as I run.
Finally, I will spend the next 48 hours locked in my casa doing nothing but consuming copious amounts of cheap beer and watching Anderson 360 on my DVR. I don't plan on bathing or changing clothing articles.
Yes, those are my plans for the weekend. And yes, I am serious.
Friday, July 1, 2011
Friday, June 17, 2011
Unicorns and Hard Work
Anyone that knows Thug Scout knows I love Unicorns. I have always been obsessed with them. I watched The Last Unicorn for hours and hours as a child. I loved it because it was very macob and magical all at the same time.
Getting to the point...I have been in a rut for the past few years. When I graduated college I had no plans except a)have fun and b) pay off debt. What I didn't realize is that a does not equal b nor are they positively correlated. The more fun I had (and ask anyone about Thug Scout's adventures circa 2008 and beyond and they'll ask if you've seen the hangover) the more debt I accrewed.
I was stupid, sure. I was suddenly an adult, single and naieve. I thought that the day you graduate college there are companies lining up to employ you and asking you to be creative. Well, I graduated May 2008 around the same time the housing bubble popped, Obama started "Change" and well everything went to hell in a handbasket. Unfortunately for me, I didn't have a backup plan.
I worked for CAM Cosmetics (Name has been changed to protect those evil gremlins) and I made great money. I thought that I would become CEO one day and run the most prestigous cosmetics company in the world. I worked hard, but rarely was rewarded for it. I met a boy who would change my life. I didn't have it all and I knew it, but I WAS HAVING FUN.
Fast forward two years, I was wrongfully terminated and the boy of my dreams dumped me on Valentines day. My world fell apart. I began the painful process of not knowing who I was and not knowing how to find who I was. I still loved unicorns though. No matter what evil lay ahead of them they always won. I used that scenario (as eight year old of a perspective as it is) to fight. I went to therapy. A lot. I landed a new job with the help of a former friend and I thought I was on the right path. Unciron horn guiding the way.
But...life is no fairy tale or poorly animted Unicorn tale. I have found myself feeling more sad, lonely at time and miserable more than I even want to admit. I feel like my life has no direction and every time I gain a foot, God sends me back a mile. Now, no, no,no! Do not think I want pity. I have my health (most of it anyways thanks to years of smoking cancer sticks, which with the help of a loved one I finally quit) and I have a boy, GB.
GB had it rough growing up. He doesn't tell me a lot and he doesn't open up (imagine that a boy not opening up), but he does have a good perspective. He worked his ass off and has a job doing what he loves and making good money. He reminds me that hard work does produce results. But, why oh why hasn't my hard work paid off? What the hell am I doing wrong. Why hasn't a hot pink Unicorn appeared (well a plush one did for my birthday)?
Answer- I have to put on the big girl underoos and figure as the homies say, "Ish", out. I know I want to do something creative and fun and travel. I want a pony or a Unicorn, whichever is less costly. I know I want the GB to ask me to marry him someday and have little GBs. I know none of this is going to happen until I become the person God wants me to be. Right now, he's been telling me hot pink and glitter are my answers. I just wish I knew the questions...
Getting to the point...I have been in a rut for the past few years. When I graduated college I had no plans except a)have fun and b) pay off debt. What I didn't realize is that a does not equal b nor are they positively correlated. The more fun I had (and ask anyone about Thug Scout's adventures circa 2008 and beyond and they'll ask if you've seen the hangover) the more debt I accrewed.
I was stupid, sure. I was suddenly an adult, single and naieve. I thought that the day you graduate college there are companies lining up to employ you and asking you to be creative. Well, I graduated May 2008 around the same time the housing bubble popped, Obama started "Change" and well everything went to hell in a handbasket. Unfortunately for me, I didn't have a backup plan.
I worked for CAM Cosmetics (Name has been changed to protect those evil gremlins) and I made great money. I thought that I would become CEO one day and run the most prestigous cosmetics company in the world. I worked hard, but rarely was rewarded for it. I met a boy who would change my life. I didn't have it all and I knew it, but I WAS HAVING FUN.
Fast forward two years, I was wrongfully terminated and the boy of my dreams dumped me on Valentines day. My world fell apart. I began the painful process of not knowing who I was and not knowing how to find who I was. I still loved unicorns though. No matter what evil lay ahead of them they always won. I used that scenario (as eight year old of a perspective as it is) to fight. I went to therapy. A lot. I landed a new job with the help of a former friend and I thought I was on the right path. Unciron horn guiding the way.
But...life is no fairy tale or poorly animted Unicorn tale. I have found myself feeling more sad, lonely at time and miserable more than I even want to admit. I feel like my life has no direction and every time I gain a foot, God sends me back a mile. Now, no, no,no! Do not think I want pity. I have my health (most of it anyways thanks to years of smoking cancer sticks, which with the help of a loved one I finally quit) and I have a boy, GB.
GB had it rough growing up. He doesn't tell me a lot and he doesn't open up (imagine that a boy not opening up), but he does have a good perspective. He worked his ass off and has a job doing what he loves and making good money. He reminds me that hard work does produce results. But, why oh why hasn't my hard work paid off? What the hell am I doing wrong. Why hasn't a hot pink Unicorn appeared (well a plush one did for my birthday)?
Answer- I have to put on the big girl underoos and figure as the homies say, "Ish", out. I know I want to do something creative and fun and travel. I want a pony or a Unicorn, whichever is less costly. I know I want the GB to ask me to marry him someday and have little GBs. I know none of this is going to happen until I become the person God wants me to be. Right now, he's been telling me hot pink and glitter are my answers. I just wish I knew the questions...
Thursday, February 24, 2011
The Randomn Swat Team Practice
So I decided that as part of my 2011 "improve thug scout" regimine, that I would start working-out. This sounds simple enough. With the exception of my drinking, smoking, and intense desire to eat as much fried food before thirty that I possibly can, it would be. I, however, am one of those people who has to be shot in the ass by the AK-47 of life before I make any decision. Working-out doesn't sound like a tough decision, but when you factor my nine to ten hour workday, my boyfriend, and the fact that I am as broke as window in the ghetto-well you get it. Working-out isn't as simple as those drill sergeants on "Biggest Loser" make it out to be.
This is where I get to the point. I decided that on my lunch break everyday I would do some sort of physical activity. The weather here in Thug Scout Land has been beautiful lately and wouldn't you know there is a park near my office. The park is not like any other that I have ventured into. It appears to be a clandestine offshoot of the property near an old abandonded Jewish school. I love the Jewish people (they are God's chosen people after all) and I figured the park would be a safe place to run/powerwalk/leisurely listen to Deathcab for Cutie for thirty minutes.
So I venture to said park. I begin to stroll, boyfriend's old iphone in hand as a substitute for music and I notice what appears to be a gaggle of well-armed polic officers. I see them scaling down walls, shooting their guns and participating in what appear to be a reenactment of the 80s holiday favourite "Christmas Vacation" house raiding scene. Now, instead of running back to my car or finding a place to duck-and-cover, I do what most people would do when weapons are being fired and attack dogs are lined up. I try to call my mom. Naturally, at this point of intense excitement in my life, Judy does not answer. She often complains I never answer my phone, but she calls when I am at work, in the middle of a labatomy or sex. I assume she is participating in the second activity as option one and option three are more likely than santa claus coming down my chimney and hand-delivering a newborn African baby to me.
I am in such a panic by the fact that I don't have anyone else to call about this event in my history that I continue to run while keeping my head cocked to the left and staring down this police scene all together. After pulling a muscle staring down the scene, I quickly realize that the officers are participating in training. I find this out by reading the large sign that states "Police Officer Training". I am a genius.
The best part about the whole incident is the girl walking her dog in front of me. She is around my age, very pretty but immediately I can tell she is one of "those" girls. She is wearing very short shorts, has her hair down, and is walking her doberman with a large, spikey collar. Now, what does this enable me to conclude. Well, I wear short shorts too so that just makes me think. Second, she has her long hair down at the park walking a dog when its seventy-five degrees out. Unless you are doing a photo shoot for Hawaiian Tropic, who wears their hair down for excercise/walking the dog? Third, only girls that are 100% complete attention whores have giant dobermans with large spikey collars. I have a general rule. If you are a young female walking a giant dog breed usually reserved for junkyard protection or biting legs of intruders, then you are really just trying to garnish male attention with your mutt. That is it. Now, I happen to have a pit (or my parents do, but we did coexsist at one point) and there is not one part of me that thought "Hey wouldn't it be cool if I put a brass knuckle looking collar on Buddy and pranced around the park because that will look totally harmless", but hey to each his own.
Now, this girl, we shall refer to her as "I don't have any girl friends because I get along better with guys" kept walking past the same area where the cops were scaling down walls and shooting firearms. She wasn't just walking by, but rather she appeared to be doing "suicide drills" that involved running the lenth of the cops periphreal view. "I don't have any girl friends because I get along better with guys" kept looking to see if cops were noticing, which made me keep looking at her with the look of pure admiration and disgust. Now, if "I don't have any girl friends because I get along better with guys" had spent time tracking down the training schedule and roster for the county and knew that this training was going on and purposefully came with Kujo for the purpose of picking up a dude, well kudos to her.
Me- I just skulked back to my car and slowly drove off while watching "I don't have an girl friends because I get along better with guys" did her 100th trek past the officers.
This is where I get to the point. I decided that on my lunch break everyday I would do some sort of physical activity. The weather here in Thug Scout Land has been beautiful lately and wouldn't you know there is a park near my office. The park is not like any other that I have ventured into. It appears to be a clandestine offshoot of the property near an old abandonded Jewish school. I love the Jewish people (they are God's chosen people after all) and I figured the park would be a safe place to run/powerwalk/leisurely listen to Deathcab for Cutie for thirty minutes.
So I venture to said park. I begin to stroll, boyfriend's old iphone in hand as a substitute for music and I notice what appears to be a gaggle of well-armed polic officers. I see them scaling down walls, shooting their guns and participating in what appear to be a reenactment of the 80s holiday favourite "Christmas Vacation" house raiding scene. Now, instead of running back to my car or finding a place to duck-and-cover, I do what most people would do when weapons are being fired and attack dogs are lined up. I try to call my mom. Naturally, at this point of intense excitement in my life, Judy does not answer. She often complains I never answer my phone, but she calls when I am at work, in the middle of a labatomy or sex. I assume she is participating in the second activity as option one and option three are more likely than santa claus coming down my chimney and hand-delivering a newborn African baby to me.
I am in such a panic by the fact that I don't have anyone else to call about this event in my history that I continue to run while keeping my head cocked to the left and staring down this police scene all together. After pulling a muscle staring down the scene, I quickly realize that the officers are participating in training. I find this out by reading the large sign that states "Police Officer Training". I am a genius.
The best part about the whole incident is the girl walking her dog in front of me. She is around my age, very pretty but immediately I can tell she is one of "those" girls. She is wearing very short shorts, has her hair down, and is walking her doberman with a large, spikey collar. Now, what does this enable me to conclude. Well, I wear short shorts too so that just makes me think. Second, she has her long hair down at the park walking a dog when its seventy-five degrees out. Unless you are doing a photo shoot for Hawaiian Tropic, who wears their hair down for excercise/walking the dog? Third, only girls that are 100% complete attention whores have giant dobermans with large spikey collars. I have a general rule. If you are a young female walking a giant dog breed usually reserved for junkyard protection or biting legs of intruders, then you are really just trying to garnish male attention with your mutt. That is it. Now, I happen to have a pit (or my parents do, but we did coexsist at one point) and there is not one part of me that thought "Hey wouldn't it be cool if I put a brass knuckle looking collar on Buddy and pranced around the park because that will look totally harmless", but hey to each his own.
Now, this girl, we shall refer to her as "I don't have any girl friends because I get along better with guys" kept walking past the same area where the cops were scaling down walls and shooting firearms. She wasn't just walking by, but rather she appeared to be doing "suicide drills" that involved running the lenth of the cops periphreal view. "I don't have any girl friends because I get along better with guys" kept looking to see if cops were noticing, which made me keep looking at her with the look of pure admiration and disgust. Now, if "I don't have any girl friends because I get along better with guys" had spent time tracking down the training schedule and roster for the county and knew that this training was going on and purposefully came with Kujo for the purpose of picking up a dude, well kudos to her.
Me- I just skulked back to my car and slowly drove off while watching "I don't have an girl friends because I get along better with guys" did her 100th trek past the officers.
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