So in a nutshell these two geniuses used PERMANENT markers to disguise themselves in order to commit burglary. Note the artistic thought processes that went into these brilliant masks, the bigger one (McNelly) actually went with a Batmanesque theme while the thinner one (Miller) did a very contemporary art piece by only decorating one eyelid. Although by looking at them I am not all that sure they did not allow a couple of three year olds to do the work for them. I think maybe these two should be introduced to other disguise alternatives. Construction paper masks, paper bag masks (making sure to cut holes for the eyes), still going with the marker idea only using Crayola WASHABLE markers, or gluing macaroni or cottonballs to their faces. ALL of these would be on the same age level as their original idea while being a bit more effective.
The brilliance did not end with their disguises, ooooh no, it gets way better! Their getaway vehicle? A very inconspicuous 1994 Buick Roadmaster in what else but WHITE! Now I am thinking they should have considered using those permanent markers to color that black. Or maybe in the same attention drawing fashion as their failed disguises they should have written on the car things like “HEY THIS IS THE GETAWAY CAR” or “YO, POLICE, HERE WE ARE, HERE WE ARE!”
Now for the grand finale of this entire tale. These two were NOT arrested for burglary! They were arrested for attempted burglary because these Einstein’s could not even successfully manage a simple breaking and entering. I mean come on, my Grandma could manage a simple B and E! But I think that possibly my favorite part of the story besides the obvious enjoyment I am getting from looking at their mugshots is, that McNelly, who was driving the needle in a haystack 1994 WHITE Buick Roadmaster, was drunk and was charged with driving while intoxicated!
And I cannot help but love their monikers “The Marker Pen Burglars” in which there are some truths and some lies. Yes they did use marker pens, well, sorta, but calling them burglars is an afront to all other burglars who are able to successfully at least commit the crime, they may still get caught but it would be because of deep investigation. These guys did everything short of walk into the police station and turn themselves in.
This is Red Canyon, a movie Co-Written, Co-Produced and Directed by my very dear friend Giovanni Rodriguez and Co-Written and Co-Produced by another new, but dear friend as well, the very talented Laura Pratt. It is being released to video on Tuesday, October the 20th 2009 at Hollywood Video and Movie Gallery, with a limited theatrical release Halloween weekend!
I want you all to know that I really love my job. I have not always been able to say that about jobs in my past and I think many of you are shocked that I am a waitress by choice and that I love doing it! It is really no mystery as to why I love the job, the restaurant is great, the customers are diverse and interesting, I get to talk and laugh, and have fun all freakin’ day and get paid for it.
Recently, through a series of fortunate and unfortunate events I worked a 19 hour shift. It was a night full of adventure, pain, laughter, pain, lots of money, and lots of, you guessed it, pain. I thought you might enjoy a little glimpse into what 19 hours on your feet and serving customers would be like.
HOURS 1-6 This was my normal shift, and though 6 hours on your feet can be tiring especially when you stay busy as I often do, I am used to this. These hours are very similar to when I get my naughty bits waxed, these first six hours were like the outer parts, slightly annoying but not really painful. Towards the end of hours 1-6 is when I find out that two people from the night crew have called in sick, so I jump on the opportunity to earn a few extra hours and a few extra bucks (yes the first agreement was only until 8 or 9pm just 3 or 4 hours passed my shift.)
Hour 7 Hour 7 was not so bad really because one of the stipulations I gave to the night crew manager was that I had to go pay a bill. It had to be paid by 8pm and I did not want to take a chance. So this is where I got to sit down in my car while running said errand for about 20 minutes….ahhhh, never thought of my P.O.S. Chevy Cavalier as the most comfortable thing but at this point…yeah…good stuff.
Hour 8 This was the hour in which I agreed to the torture I was about to endure. This may sound dramatic, but as you will see when the hours march on, not so dramatic….reality….it is a bitch and that bitch likes to inflict pain!
Hours 9-12 These hours were busy for part of them and then a slow down. At the end of hours 9-12 I knew I was going to get a bit of a break! See on Monday nights from 10 to 1030pm I do an internet radio show on blogtalkradio.com it is a comedy duo type deal so obviously it cannot be done without both myself and my best friend Jason of jaysays.com and our comedy website ejoculation.com. The fact that I was going to do this show come hell or high water had to be agreed to or I was not staying on the overnight. This was agreed to quite easily as a. Noone else could stay overnight and the overnight person had called in sick and b. I was starting to look a bit frayed and fragile at this point and I think they were afraid to say no. Whatever worked!
Hour 13 30 minutes of this was spent sitting in my car (already established as comfortable) doing a very funny show and smoking a few cigs. All of which were going to be important more than I knew to the last 6 hours of this saga….and everyone who came into the restaurant in the middle of the night’s safety.
Hour 14 and 15 At this point I was thinking this was not so bad, really. I can do this, with little to no incident. As you will soon find out when I delve into the darkness of hours 16-19 I am totally speaking too soon.
Hour 16 This is the point of the evening eh morning, that I am now the only waitress, all others have been cut and sent home to do wonderful things like sit… lay down… pee without having to hurridly remove aprons and all other manner of stuff and do it as though you were a car driver in the effin’ Indy 500 only without the pit crew! I very quickly began to envy my cohorts in the serving industry, these obsessive thoughts would get much creepier in a bit, for now, just a mild jealousy.
Hour 17 Delusions are starting to kick in, I am managing to keep it from the endless parade of customers, but my own head, well it is impossible to hide from your own head. I am also realizing that muscles are burning, not a mild burning but a burn that feels like actual flame is being applied to various parts of my body. Also, did you know there is a muscle right behind your ear that does actually start to hurt when you have been waitressing for 17 1/2 hours? Finally at about hour 17 and 3/4 I went into our walk-in fridge, grabbed a cantelope, made him hair of parsley and a face of fruit and called him WILSON. He would be my companion for the rest of the ordeal, and really the only reason I survive it.
Hour 18 This was the hour in which I became very happy that my only customers on the 8 tables I had were one of two things, cops or drunk people. I was grateful for the tables of cops because I felt that if I were to pass out they would have the training and wits about them to save me. I was grateful for the drunks because my exhaustion at the this point was so severe, I was slurring my words and making no sense and this was going completely unnoticed. They also seemed to not care that what I was bringing them was not what they effin’ ordered but rather what I saw fit to put in, or not so much saw fit to but what I DID put in during brief blackouts.
Hour 19 Several things happened in hour 19. First I completed my hit list for those of my co-workers that were home and asleep, it was less of a list and more of a kill everyone I work with type thing written over and over and over again on my order pad and kids menus in crayon. I also realized I could now feel nothing below my waist. In a way that was a blessing for me but not really considered one by the customers when I did things like come walking up to their table dragging a leg behind me or using my good arm to throw my now dead arm on the table with the pot of coffee in hand. I also think it might have been slightly off putting when I started having arguments with Wilson, hey that melon head has some really strong opinions on things and I really just do not agree with his philosophies, he is kind of an asshole.
Also in hour 19 I cried real tears when I saw my replacement walk in the door. I might possibly have run to her and screamed out “MY HERO” and lunged myself into her arms and kissed her all over her face as though she were Richard Gere and I was Debra Winger in “An Officer and a Gentleman” but I don’t believe I did, though the survellience video kinda looks like I did, it was a bit grainy so not sure. I choose to believe it did not occur.
I have to say I think I handled the whole thing with grace and style. I don’t think anything out of the ordinary happened that I should be in any way ashamed of or worried about though I have no memory of anything after Malinda arrived. I also choose to believe that the ticket in my apron for driving erratically, the fact that my shoes were on the wrong feet, and the fact that I woke up in the fetal position on my front porch about six hours later in no way reflect anything at all of any kind whatsoever.
I have no idea what I did to deserve this great couple to sit in my section, at my table at the restaurant yesterday, but I have to say thank you to whatever power, supernatural or not that made it happen. As some of you know and some of you may not one of my jobs is waitressing at Jim’s, a family restaurant in San Antonio, and I happen to love this job very much and don’t really have a desire to do anything else at the moment. Now, in general I tend to use my sense of humor in my work, often giving my customers a hard time and joking, sometimes even being “on” like I were an aspiring comedian at open mike night. This particular day however, I found the one person that had no appreciation for this fact though my reaction to the situation had less to do with my sense of humor and more to due with his lack of one.
So I have this 30 something couple come in, we will call them Mr. and Mrs. Joe Blow (it out your ass) for the purposes of the story. They sit at the table and I approach ready to take their drink order as per usual and then give them time to decide what they want to order to eat by the time I return with the drinks. In this case, however they are ready to go on with the whole shebang which suits me fine. Mrs. Blow puts in her order and asks for a glass of milk to drink, then Mr. Blow follows suit and decides he would like some coffee as his beverage of choice. Now what he asks me next will always lead me to wonder if he had killed some brain cells in his past and was really this stupid, or if it was a simple moment where you mean one thing and say another while still being a fairly intelligent human being. Judging by his completely childish reaction to my reaction to it I will go with stupidity.
The man proceeds to ask me if we have “any of those urinals” while holding his hands in such a way as to show me the sizing. I pause as I am thinking, surely I heard him incorrectly and I ask him to repeat himself. He asks again, “You know do you have any of those coffee urinals that you fill with coffee and leave at the table?” To which I bust out laughing hysterically! Not a giggle people, but a full on, from the belly, laugh! I know this is a mistake to keep laughing as I see he is not amused and really has no idea what I was laughing at. When I realize he does not get his mistake on his own I decide I shall tell him. I say, “Hun, a urinal is what men use in the restroom, now I believe you meant an urn of coffee and no this is not IHOP.” Well that went over like a lead balloon, only a lead balloon that was getting the most evil look possible as it thunked to the ground. I decide a bit too late for this idiots benefit to try to smooth things over and save his ego by saying, “Well, usually you don’t need a urinal until after you drink the coffee and if you don’t mind I would prefer you to do that in the restroom rather than at the table.”
This was just getting worse, especially because his wife totally had a smirk on her face until she realized he was totally pissed about what was happening. That woman wiped that grin off and feigned indignation at my gall to laugh at him in such a manner and then further go on to joke about it. I however, have now had a full on giggle box turning over moment and walk away still laughing at what he said. The situation was even FURTHER worsened by the fact that the other waitress working that area yells out at me as I was walking away, “WHAT ARE YA LAUGHIN’ AT, TAMMY?” And I am now frantically mumbling through clenched teeth, “It’s nothing, I will tell you later!” This was the moment I see out of the corner of my eye, Mr. Blow saying something quietly yet with some anger to Mrs. Blow, and the two rise and slink out the door.
At this point I think it prudent to take my boss aside and tell him what has happened just in case the dumbass calls corporate to complain. My boss is completely at a loss for words and of course laughs too. I tell him I highly doubt the ego bruised baby is going to call corporate because there is no way he can explain it to them without telling them that he asked me for a urinal at the table. A couple of hours later I approach my boss and say, “you know how the other day you were asking us if there were any other dishes, or cups and such we thought you should order, I just realized there is something we are short on.” He had forgotten of course and did not see where this was going. I tell him, “Yeah, I think you really need to order some more coffee urinals, we don’t have near enough.” He threw something at me.
In all honesty I have no idea why people don’t have a sense of humor about mistakes that are made. I make them all the time and if I did not laugh about it, I would be miserable as it is a daily occurrence that I screw something up. At this point I just hope that what I am screwing up is not important, like calling an urn a urinal, or messing up my kid for society to have to deal with in a couple of years, you know, the little things.
So lately I have been working a lot and writing a lot therefore I have been not wanting to be cooking a lot. Now don’t get me wrong I do enjoy cooking, it is just all the side work, preparation of the food, serving it and after dinner clean-up I detest. Anyway, I was talking to a friend one night when I declared that I was starving yet did not want to prepare anything. I also did not want to put upon my son, the Sandwich Artist to make me something at Subway (it would require me leaving the house.) So my oh so smart buddy said why don’t you ummmm order delivery! THAT MAN IS BRILLIANT!
This is when a discovery was made for which I will always owe him big time! Though I will never tell him that because this particular friend would hold me to that and if you have not gathered I am in lazy mode at this point. Anyway, I set to work looking on line for food. It is when I am making a decision on www.pizzahut.com that I see a little tab that says “Desserts” hmmmm….. I of course think it is just going to be those cinnamon sticky breadstick things that aren’t all that great, frankly. But instead it is an oh so intriguing bit of chocolatey delightfulness for which I was not prepared. HERSHEY’s CHOCOLATE DUNKERS!!!! Ooooohhhoooohhhooohhh are you freakin’ serious?
At this point what I was having for dinner really mattered not, I think I ordered pasta or something, who the FRICK cares. I just wanted to get to that dunker thingy. Now let me give you a little description of these suckers tamfastic style. These are nothing less than soft strips of warm, doughy goodness with not just milk chocolate little beady looking things covering the top but the geniuses at the Hut added a wee bit of white chocolate into the mix. Now this on its own is similar to a chocolate covered donut only way gooder. BUT WAIT…..THERE’S MORE! They give you this Hershey’s melty dipping or dunking sauce that when combined with that other stuff I told you about, well, let’s just say I had a mouthgasm…make that multiple mouthgasms for minutes, neigh hours, after this piece of heaven hit my tongue. Now, you might find the butt of the after cig sitting in my trash with chocolate stains all over it and I think it is possible IT is even still smiling.
Just when I thought I had every accessory I needed for my iPod to make my life complete, I found out there is one more little add on a girl could really get down with. Yes, guys and gals, it is a vibrator in bullet form that pulsates to the rhythm of your iTunes. I think I can safely say that if technology keeps progressing in such a manner I may NEVER leave my house again!
The fact that this pretty little thing was the wet dream of a former Apple exec is in one way no surprise but in another way a bit of one. I mean I know they come up with cool ideas but this is quite possibly the best fusion of technology and pleasure to date. So in the very near future instead of playing with my BOB (Battery Operated Boyfriend) I will now have a bit-o-fun with my BOD (Battery Operated Dj.) Now somebody download me some Pantera and leave me to my OWN devices!
I am not one to complain about too many things but I have to give a little bit of time to something that has gotten to me lately. Mostly it has gotten to me lately because in the not too distant past I was dating someone that was 17 years my junior. I am a woman, this automatically lends itself to a tirade of titles and jokes that while cute and endearing at first become tiresome and old with time (yes, I see the pun I am choosing to ignore it!) Of course the most obvious title of “Cougar” was what I got hit with immediately. This gave me an interesting flashback of when I was in the 6th grade and our teachers name was Mrs. Coogan, for field day we became Coogan’s Cougars, little did I know how prophetic this would be. That aside, being labeled a Cougar made me wonder, where the eff did this title come from? Because it was not applied to me before I guess I never really thought about it. So me being me, I set out to do a bit of research on the worldwide web. Here’s what I found out.
The truest definition of a Cougar is a woman in her 40’s that goes “on the prowl” for men in their 20’s.” In just about every definition I found, there is no mention of a relationship. So, this certainly did not, nor does not, apply to me. I am open to dating adult men of any age and do in fact. Oh, by the way, what do they call a man in his 40’s that goes on the prowl for 20 something women? Yeah, that’s right they don’t call him anything. Have you ever heard of any such thing as a F.I.L.F (Father I’d Like to F&%K)? And when a 40 year old man says his girlfriend is 23 does anyone break out and sing “Mrs. Robinson”? No, because that would inappropriate to HIS situation, well it is just as inappropriate to mine! I do not have a daughter that is marrying the younger man, I am not seducing him, and I have WAY better legs.
So while I can appreciate the humor, especially at my own expense, give it a rest or at least some thought when applying the terms. Now if you will excuse me, I need to go put on my micro-mini, black strappy stilettos, clingy red top with the plunging neckline, and go meet with my son’s alegebra teacher, I heard he is 24 and single!
You know, while in theory dying your crotch hairs sounds like a barrel of laughs, I have a few problems with this. First off, it is hard enough shaving, waxing, and shaping that area do we seriously now have to slap some dye on it and make sure it comes out even? COME ON! Why did you do this to me Betty? WHY? You know of course I am gonna use this product, seriously…..
And though I see those few drawbacks, there are a few things about this idea I love. First of all, now when I dye my hair pink, when someone sees my naughty bits they will think I am a natural pink. Secondly, I honestly need something else to do on a Saturday night besides oh, I don’t know, having a life?
Okay I love the idea of this product kind of a lot. But to tell you the truth it scares me a little that soon I will no longer remember what my natural hair color is on my landing strip….just like it is anybody’s guess as to what it is on my head! Thanks A LOT Betty Beauty (now where the hell is my credit card?)
Being the single mother of a teenager brings endless amounts of entertainment. Sometimes the entertainment is humor, sometimes it is more like something out of a horror flick, but always completely entertaining any way you slice (or stab) it. He is a good kid, with enough teenagerness to pay me back for the stupid crap I did to my parents, I mean I really should not get away with some of it. I too must continue to add to my gray hair collection as my parents did before me or should I say because of me. But this is not about an addition to the on going melodrama I lovingly titled “Hormones Effin’ Suck” (the musical.) This is actually a happy little moment that I shall cherish til death.
Now mind you once my bouncing baby boy grew to a 6′2″, 200+ lb gorilla for whom I have to take out small loans to feed, I thought the cuteness of his younger days was long gone. But I found out that this is not the case at all. My boy, now 16, was going after his first official job. He was vying for a highly coveted position at Subway as a Sandwich Artist. Now he had a lot going for him from the beginning, he knew several of the employees and the managers and they all like the kid, what’s not to like he takes after his wonderful, nurturing, hysterically funny mother….oh wait….that’s me…. hmmmm, they liked him despite the fact that I am his Mother and promised to never hold that against him.
Though the managers were ready to hire him, he had to pass an interview with the owner. So there was an interview set, and then it was “LET THE CUTENESS….BEGIN!” First he makes himself all clean shaven, removes his piercings (gauged ears and pierced septum.) Then he informs me that I am taking him to get a new “nice” shirt to wear for the interview. We picked out this black little number and he was set. The best part was that he basically hand wrote a resume of sorts that he restarted 5 times until it was “perfect” and to his liking. The kid called me later that afternoon super excited and spilling out the events of the interview as though it was necessary that he not draw another breath until I had the blow by blow.
He started the next day, and suddenly I had a hankerin’ for a Subway sandwich and made my way there for lunch. My sandwich was perfect, though without oregano, which he later told me he put on half the sandwiches he made before he realized it was NOT the pepper. I could see he was happy, and yes I cried, just like I did the first day of kindergarten. I am so proud of the man of my house. Now all I need is a bumper sticker that says “My Son is a Sandwich Artist” to proudly display on my car.
Okay, I am all about having drinks with friends and trying new things. Just the other night while out and about I tried a Cucumber Martini at a new spot in San Antonio called Rumi’s Lounge. It was fanfreakin’tastic but still I was not so sure about a drink that was gonna taste like salad. And now they come out with bacon in a glass? Seriously, I don’t know if I can be on board with this. Now I will give them some props, they have recipes in which they are suggesting it be put in Bloody Marys or used as a Marinade for steaks to be grilled, that I can get down with. But honestly when I first saw this all I could think is, shots at breakfast? Eggs, hashbrowns, Bacon Martinis with a side of toast? Better yet why don’t they just freakin’ come out with the whole breakfast buffet of Vodkas, who needs to eat?
The fact that this is not available across the nation is a shame because I think that this needs a try. Currently it is only available in Washington State, Oregon, Montana and Idaho, wow that is a bit underwhelming…. And though I am highly skeptical of a breakfast meat in liquid form, I need to bring home this bacon for a few reasons. A. I don’t have to cook it and anything I don’t have to cook is delicious to me B. If we make it really popular they may come out with something I could really dig, Pancake flavored alcohol….heh heh screw IHOP!
Being the single mother of a teenager brings endless amounts of entertainment. Sometimes the entertainment is humor, sometimes it is more like something out of a horror flick, but always completely entertaining any way you slice (or stab) it. He is a good kid, with enough teenagerness to pay me back for the stupid crap I did to my parents, I mean I really should not get away with some of it. I too must continue to add to my gray hair collection as my parents did before me or should I say because of me. But this is not about an addition to the on going melodrama I lovingly titled “Hormones Effin’ Suck” (the musical.) This is actually a happy little moment that I shall cherish til death.
