malty:
“You inspired me, and I just want you to know that I really like vodka crans.” He said.
I have never been prouder…. or more like the devil
My personal direct experience with Mormons was back in the days when I was gainfully employed. The company I worked for had a lot of Mormons on the sales team. I used to manage the trade shows, and the sales team would staff the booth. In the evenings we would all have dinner together.
So whenever it was two or more Mormon sales folk at the dinner, they were prim and proper. But if there was just one, well, here comes the drinking and smoking and hitting on waitresses, then lotsa coffee in the morning to fight off the hangover.
I’m not sure what that means in the big scheme of things, but to me, one Mormon = rabid hedonist, more than one Mormon = pretend not to be a rabid hedonist. Wouldn’t it be easier to just not be a Mormon?
4 months ago
dangerisrelative:
We are hauling out the fisherman, cannery workers, everyone else and their dog— literally and figuratively. These are the same people I flew in a month ago and I saw each time I picked up fish, dropped off someone else or their mail. These people think they know me. And every single goddamn one of them wants to tell how cool it is that I’m a girl pilot. I have zero patience for this. But that’s beside the point here. So I flew this one guy in particular into a cannery strip at the beginning of the season. He then saw me several times picking up fish and dropping off passengers. He thinks he knows me and he also thinks we’re good ol’ buds. He’s wrong, but when he offers to buy me a Widmer Hef at the bar, I accept. I then proceed to be his friend for about 3 minutes, which is coincidentally the same amount of time it takes to get my (free) beer. I left to join some friends in a game of pool.
After the free beer and a game of pool I left the bar. I was not entertained by the number of gross fisherman and the lack of my buddies in the bar. I’m out by my house-sitting truck trying to find the keys in my backpack. I am faced towards the truck and bent over at my hips. I hear a voice yell my name and a person in the corner of my eye running at me, more specifically my ass. Not recognizing the voice and not being accepting of people running towards my ass, I kicked my leg out, screamed and swung my leg around— ninja style. I kicked him in the gut. Then I realized it was that guy who had bought me the beer. He still deserved it. Not smart to run up behind some girl towards her ass. Not okay.
However, I did get to kick one of my passengers. Not necessarily on purpose, but I think everyone has that moment where they really can’t take anymore crap from the peanut gallery and they probably feel the urge to do this occasionally. Not that I would ever actually kick a passenger, on purpose. I just have a very vivid imagination. And after doing this, I don’t think I got the pleasure I thought I would. I even felt kind of bad. So I guess, in the future thoughts of kicking my passengers will be quickly vetoed instead of pondered and eventually forgotten about.
Nah. You’re being too hard on yourself. Enjoy it. Relish it. LOVE it.
:)
5 months ago