Gramma,
Moonshine had a strange Uber customer yesterday--a set of keys.
We got so much rain yesterday, two rivers are flooding. Tornado's of destruction, threw people's shit around. But, today is a top ten gorgeous Minnesota day. There's a nice breeze cloudless skies, low humidity and 84 degrees. I regret that I was too exhausted to take advantage of it. I had planned to continue work on an outdoor peacock sculpture.
Spent much of the day in bed, too tired to even watch TV. I hope this is not Lyme's disease. I've had it before and was down more than a month, plus lengthy after effects of body aches and bouts of no energy. My friend's dog just tested positive. Mercy was limping and had tender joints. I treat my dogs monthly with a preventative. Why isn't there prevention for people?
Poor Eddie has blue balls. Princess is in heat and he can't reach. I would get him some help, but I don't want winter puppies. Next time. Spring puppies. Ready for summer homes with kids. I am looking forward to making Auggies, an Australian Shepherd, Corgi cross. They are herding dogs. Mine are both mini's.
Don't know what I will do with the revenue. It will not be enough to take the grandkids to Iceland and sleep in an igloo under the northern lights. Maybe my sister and I can go through the Keyes in a rented convertible. I would like to go to Cuba with Dave before McDonald's gets there.
Tomorrow is an unplanned day with lots of options. Hopefully, I will have double energy, which sometimes happens. Dave is working late tonight. I will meet him at the fixit shop with his antique truck. First gear has a rattle. There will be room in the shed for me to dig out the plates necessary for my peacock sculpture. It's time for a beer. Hope I can sleep tonight.
Showing posts with label Uber. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Uber. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 12, 2016
Saturday, May 14, 2016
Family Tradition
Gramma.
The other day, Dave was behind an Uber car with "Whiskey" plates on it. The WU prefix is used for drunk plates. A friend of mine just got a DUI. She likes her Jamison and lots of it. Dave has it figured out that by the time you are done paying the ticket, attorney fees, higher insurance and the cost of mandatory classes, it comes out to a good ten-thousand dollars. That buys a lot of beer.
I will admit that I have done my share of drunk driving, but never got caught. Dave doesn't drink a whole lot, as it gives him a headache. I can drink a case of beer and not get a hangover. I like when I can be the designated drunk. Since I do not have a spare ten-thousand dollars, I like that my girlfriends have spare beds in case my alcohol content gets too high.
I love beer, especially craft beers. I like my beer so cold it's just starting to form ice crystals. I'm always looking to broaden my knowledge base on the subject. The first thing I do in a new locale is to ask for a local beer. I have made my own beer, but I drink it so fast that it really doesn't pay, unless you enjoy the process.
My drinking began in utero. One of my earliest memories is of watching the bubbles in my grandfather's beer glass rise to the top. It was mesmerizing to me. As I kid, I toured plenty of Wisconsin breweries with relatives. I was never denied samples.
I remember going to Drive-In movies with my dad. He always brought beer. If he didn't want me to drink it, he shouldn't have left it in the backseat. So I come by my habit honestly. Drinking was a family affair.
Wisconsin tradition is not dead. Not all that long ago, we were in a rural Wisconsin bar when some grade school boys showed up on a snowmobile. They handed a note to the bartender, who sent them home with a paper bag full of beer. Well then.
My brush with a DUI came after a night of drinking in small town Wisconsin. "Why aren't your headlights on?" asked the officer. The streetlights were bright enough that I hadn't noticed they were not on. "Get out of the car," commanded the big, burly woman. I painstakingly pulled crutches from the passenger seat and attempted to get out. I was pathetic, She told me to get back in the car and turn on my headlights. I slowly drove away. They weren't even my crutches.
This is my favorite childhood picture. I think it should be the photo for an ad promoting high achievement.
The other day, Dave was behind an Uber car with "Whiskey" plates on it. The WU prefix is used for drunk plates. A friend of mine just got a DUI. She likes her Jamison and lots of it. Dave has it figured out that by the time you are done paying the ticket, attorney fees, higher insurance and the cost of mandatory classes, it comes out to a good ten-thousand dollars. That buys a lot of beer.
I will admit that I have done my share of drunk driving, but never got caught. Dave doesn't drink a whole lot, as it gives him a headache. I can drink a case of beer and not get a hangover. I like when I can be the designated drunk. Since I do not have a spare ten-thousand dollars, I like that my girlfriends have spare beds in case my alcohol content gets too high.
I love beer, especially craft beers. I like my beer so cold it's just starting to form ice crystals. I'm always looking to broaden my knowledge base on the subject. The first thing I do in a new locale is to ask for a local beer. I have made my own beer, but I drink it so fast that it really doesn't pay, unless you enjoy the process.
My drinking began in utero. One of my earliest memories is of watching the bubbles in my grandfather's beer glass rise to the top. It was mesmerizing to me. As I kid, I toured plenty of Wisconsin breweries with relatives. I was never denied samples.
I remember going to Drive-In movies with my dad. He always brought beer. If he didn't want me to drink it, he shouldn't have left it in the backseat. So I come by my habit honestly. Drinking was a family affair.
Wisconsin tradition is not dead. Not all that long ago, we were in a rural Wisconsin bar when some grade school boys showed up on a snowmobile. They handed a note to the bartender, who sent them home with a paper bag full of beer. Well then.
My brush with a DUI came after a night of drinking in small town Wisconsin. "Why aren't your headlights on?" asked the officer. The streetlights were bright enough that I hadn't noticed they were not on. "Get out of the car," commanded the big, burly woman. I painstakingly pulled crutches from the passenger seat and attempted to get out. I was pathetic, She told me to get back in the car and turn on my headlights. I slowly drove away. They weren't even my crutches.
This is my favorite childhood picture. I think it should be the photo for an ad promoting high achievement.
Be All That You Can Be
Wednesday, April 6, 2016
San Francisco
Gramma
Back from a week of debauchery in colorful San Francisco. Drank much, ate much and laughed much. Hiked up and down the hilly streets and stairways until I yelled "Biatch Stop all-fuckin-ready," Biatch is a former cheerleader turned personal trainer. "Look, there's a nice tour bus," I pointed out hopefully. "The upper level is open. You can still get the fantastic views." The voice of sanity fell on deaf ears.
It was disturbing that I couldn't keep up. I had resurrected my elliptical trainer, exercise ball and hand weights nearly three months prior. Yet, the steep streets of San Francisco defeated me. Every ten feet I stopped to catch my breath and rally for the next uphill battle. I felt old.
Moonshine and I waited at the bottom of Ziggy Zaggy Street as Biatch bounced up and down the stairway of many pains to get a "better view" of the city. I prefer a better view of beer. A source of alcohol was found six blocks downhill.
After the brewhaus, we stumbled into our first Uber experience, The driver was happy to share the details of his job. Raul was a college student driving a shiny new car Uber had financed. He could choose his own hours. We were on a tight budget and happy to be instructed as to how we could get our first ride free.
Upon return to a home base we had found on Craig's List, more spirits were had. It wasn't long before I excused myself for bed. Within minutes, loud snoring was coming from my room.
Back from a week of debauchery in colorful San Francisco. Drank much, ate much and laughed much. Hiked up and down the hilly streets and stairways until I yelled "Biatch Stop all-fuckin-ready," Biatch is a former cheerleader turned personal trainer. "Look, there's a nice tour bus," I pointed out hopefully. "The upper level is open. You can still get the fantastic views." The voice of sanity fell on deaf ears.
It was disturbing that I couldn't keep up. I had resurrected my elliptical trainer, exercise ball and hand weights nearly three months prior. Yet, the steep streets of San Francisco defeated me. Every ten feet I stopped to catch my breath and rally for the next uphill battle. I felt old.
Moonshine and I waited at the bottom of Ziggy Zaggy Street as Biatch bounced up and down the stairway of many pains to get a "better view" of the city. I prefer a better view of beer. A source of alcohol was found six blocks downhill.
After the brewhaus, we stumbled into our first Uber experience, The driver was happy to share the details of his job. Raul was a college student driving a shiny new car Uber had financed. He could choose his own hours. We were on a tight budget and happy to be instructed as to how we could get our first ride free.
Upon return to a home base we had found on Craig's List, more spirits were had. It wasn't long before I excused myself for bed. Within minutes, loud snoring was coming from my room.
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