OZ MOVING COMPANY SUCKS ASS!!!!!!

OZ MOVING COMPANY SUCKS ASS!!!!

Let me repeat that…

OZ MOVING COMPANY SUCKS ASS!!!!

I have moved 21 times since 1987.

21 times.

I have moved myself.  I have had relatives move me.  I’ve had friends move me.  I’ve had friend’s of relatives move me.  I’ve had movers move me.  I thought the moving company that moved me in California, but this weekends was the worst.

Let’s see

1.  They showed up an hour late.  The reservation was for 9:00 a.m.  I didn’t get a call till almost 9:30 a.m. telling me there was a problem.  I was told then that they’d be there in 20 minutes.  They finally arrived at 10:15.

2.  The first person into my apartment had the social skills of a rock.  He walked in, didn’t introduce himself, didn’t apologize for being  late.  He barely acknowledged me at all.  He was a mumbler.  He had to repeat himself for me to even know what he said when he finally started speaking.

3.  I was scolded because I hadn’t emptied a trunk.

4.  I asked them to use my boxes before they started using their own but they didn’t.

5.  I clearly explained to him what needed to be moved and what was staying and yet he didn’t communicate any of that to his crew.  Every time someone came into my apartment I had to explain everything all over again.

6.  I became a little concerned when he carried a piece of furniture out by it’s legs.  The furniture was not light.  I was also concerned that he only asked for help a couple of times getting things out of my apartment.  Not everything I own is light.

7.  They left a mess of tape, tape rolls and empty coffee cup strewn about the apartment.

8.  There was no concern for the wooden floors as Peter the foreman shifted and scooted furniture around the room.  Clearly none of their customers are high end clients.

9.  They took the drawers out of a chest of drawers in my bedroom and then placed them in a box without wrapping them or adding any extra padding.  It’s the most expensive piece of furniture I own and is quite nice.

10.  When they finally finished the driver told me that he’d be leaving in a few minutes.  I tidied up some things in my home and then looked out the window to see if they were gone yet.  I saw the following two things.

a.  One of the crew pissing on the street in front of my apartment building.

b.  The foreman of the crew drinking a beer from a paper bag.  (How did I know it was a beer.  Because I saw him throw it away and then went downstairs and checked).

10.  I called to complain about the drinking and then driving with my stuff across town and was pretty much told that I could call the next day and file a complaint.  I was also told that the dispatcher would be told that I’d seen the crew drinking.  What that translated into was having the dispatcher call Peter, the foreman, and tell him that I’d seen the crew drinking and driving.  Which then translated into Peter confronting me telling me that if I had a problem I should have just called the cops.  Which then led to very tense next 90 minutes as I watched Peter bring things into my house.

11.  The drawers were pulled out of a box that turned out to have other things in it, and that none of the items had been wrapped in any way.

12.  Once again they left, leaving a swath of tape remnants behind.

13.  And the reason for this post.

I have moved 21 times in the last 22 years.  21 times.  I have things broken.  A marble table top.  A dish here and there.  What I have never had happen is entire boxes being broken.   In one box of dishes 50% of the stemware in the box was broken.  I had a large salad bowl wrapped in newspaper, then wrapped in bubble wrap that was in pieces.  I had a column that was anything if not sturdy and solid that was left crumbled in a million pieces.  I no longer have a complete set of stemware in any pattern.  They even broke a sandstone coaster that was in one box.  21 times, a few things.  One time, entire boxes.

I had decided that I was just going to let it all go but after opening all these boxes today I’ve decided against that.  First thing in the morning, I’m going to get on the phone and I’m not going to stop calling until I talk to someone.  I don’t actually expect them to do anything but they need to know that as a company they are anything more than reputable.az

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Moving Day 2.

You know.

The fantasy of moving in together is far more fun than the actual moving.  I avoided unpacking for almost five hours today.  I kept finding other things to do.  Shows to watch.  Cats to play with.  Naps to take.  Finally around 4:00 I couldn’t put it off any longer.  I got up, took a deep breath and started.

I emptied about 20 boxes today.  Of course nothing was put where it needed to be.  I got the stuff out, found a temporary home for it, and then moved on to the next box.  I tried to keep the chaos to a minimum.  Adam hates chaos and I don’t want the move to be any more stressful than it already is.  I think he was pleasantly surprised by how much I got done today.  I should be able to get all the boxes empty by the weekend, so that we can start figuring out where everything is going to live.

With any luck by the Saturday the 10th we should be just about done with the moving in and part and can get on with the fun part.

Moving Day

I’m exhausted.

Very.

Very.

Exhausted.

It took forever to fall asleep last night.  I was worried about the rain forecasted for today.  I was worried that it was going to take twice as long as predicted and I wouldn’t have the money to pay the movers.  I was worried that Adam would change his mind and tell me that he no longer wanted me to move in with him.  I was worried the movers would crash the truck and all of my belongings would be destroyed.  I was worried that…

You get the picture.

I am my mother’s son.

I worry about things a lot.

So it was very late, or very early depending on how you look at it before I went to sleep.  Adam’s alarm went off at 7:15.  My alarm went off 30 seconds later.  He snoozed his alarm and it went off nine minutes later.  I snoozed my alarm and it went off 30 seconds after Adams.  This went on for a while.  I finally got out of bed around 7:45.  Adam got in the shower soon after.  We left for my apartment about 20 minutes later.

It was raining when we got outside.  This was not surprising.  Weather.com had predicted 100% chance of rain for today.  They are usually pretty close.  First stop was for coffee and donuts.  Then we began the 20 minute walk to my house.  About two seconds into the walk, we decided that they bus was the way to go.  Luckily it came pretty fast.  We got to my house somewhere around 8:30.

I was still worried.

I drank my coffee.  Adam drank his coffee.  Chuck drank his Diet Coke.  And we waited.  And we waited.  And we waited.  I kept running to the window every time I heard a truck go by.  At 9:20…nothing.  The movers were due at 9:00.  Finally around 9:35 or so I got a call saying that there was a problem with the truck, that they were picking up a new one and would be there in about 20 minutes.

At 10:15 they got there and thus the move began.

First point of note.

The foreman of the move reeked of cigarettes and booze.  I assumed he’d had a late night and that perhaps that was the reason they were late.  He also wasn’t very nice, but as I reminded myself, he wasn’t there to be cordial.  His only task was to get my stuff from one place to another.

They started carrying out the boxes.  About 15 minutes later, Adam decided he needed to go home.  I just assumed that he was overwhelmed by it all and we’d already had a chat about sitting there, not helping while having work done for you.  Chuck told him that you are only comfortable with that if you were born with help.  The rest of us had been taught to help where you could.

Adam was off.

The move continued.

It went relatively quickly.

Two hours later, the truck was loaded.  I told them that Adam would be waiting for them.  I helped Chuck move a few things around.  Gathered up the last of my belongings.  Then, while in my bedroom I looked out to see if the truck had pulled away yet.

In fact it had not.

And the reason?

Because Peter, the foreman, was enjoying a cold one.  Yes.  A cold one.  A beer.  In a paper bag but clearly a beer.

I was a little taken aback.  Clearly the smell I detected when they arrived wasn’t from the night before.  Clearly it was from early that morning.  I was pissed off to say the least.  I’ve been known to take a drink or two at work.  What I haven’t done is downed a beer, in front of a customer, just as I was about to get into a truck and drive their belongings across town.

Finally the truck left and I took my stuff and left.

I called Adam and told him what had happened.  I wanted to know what he thought I should do.  My concern was the if something was broken that they would say that they weren’t responsible.  I didn’t want to wait for something to happen to then complain after the fact that I’d see him drinking.  So I called Oz moving to report it.  I felt like I was talking Spanish to the guy.  He actually asked me what I wanted him to do about it.  He then said he’d call the dispatcher and tell him about it.  I was not pleased but I’d done what I could.

So I call Adam to tell him about the conversation.  He interrupted to tell me that the foreman had already been called and that he was aware of my complaint.  That’s a perfect way to handle it.  Call the person who’s been drinking to tell them that I’m upset that he’s been drinking when I still need him to bust his ass to finish the move as quickly as possible.  I got to the apartment and things were more than a little tense.

I told Adam when I walked him that I was going to let him handle things from this point on.  Things were tense but I thought if I stayed out of the way it would be fine.  What I wasn’t expecting was the foreman to confront me about the call.  He informed me that if I had a problem with his drinking that I should just call the police next time.  I didn’t even know what to say.  By this time I was pissed beyond all measure.

The rest of the move went off without a hitch.  We paid, I tipped, less than I should have but I wasn’t sure that I should tip at all.  But as someone who lives off tips, I took the high road.

The rest of the day was just as busy.  Adam and I walked up the street to get lunch.  We stopped by Target to pick up a few things.

And then we stopped by Manhattan Mini Storage to rent a storage space.  As I mentioned last night, we have lots of things we don’t want to part with, but don’t have room for in the apartment.  The reason we chose Manhattan Mini Storage is that they are two blocks away and they have the best ad campaigns in Manhattan.  They are also know for being VERY liberal.  This is an ad from a couple of years ago.

closet-bush-agenda

This was one of my favorites.

So we looked at a number of options and discovered that the cheapest would work for us.  We signed all the papers, bought our lock, found our way back up to our locker, put the lock on and we were on our way.

Finally at 6:30 we were home for the night.  Exhausted.

First thing on the agenda was trying to get my clothes chest in to our bedroom.  The movers had given up pretty quickly.  It took us about 20 minutes, but finally we gave up as well.  We spent the next 20 minutes coming up with a plan “B”.  We spent the next two hours, moving things around so that we could use what was left of the apartment.

Now it’s 11:30 and I’m going to head to bed.

Tomorrow the real fun begins.

The saga continues…

The past two weeks have been insane.  I got home from Kentucky and had one of the most stressful jobs in front of me.  A job that everyone out there will agree makes people crazy.  Can make or break relationships.  Can bring out the very worst in people.  Can make you want to throw yourself in front of  an oncoming subway train.

Organizing.

Arranging.

Packing.

To move.

Tomorrow, Sunday, September 27, 2009.

I’m moving in with Adam.

Who would have thunk it?

After much discussion, fretting, stressing, worrying, etc. tomorrow is the day.

So for the past two weeks I’ve been trying to sort through my belongings.  I’m a keeper of things.  I have every letter I ever received all the way till I stopped receiving them about ten years ago or so.  I have every ornament I’ve ever been given, bought or borrowed.  Well except for the the two ornaments Adam broke today.  He’s going to have to make that up to me.  I’ve been trying to downsize.  It’s very hard for me to let things go.  I have props from the 1990 production of The Oresteia.  I have a big wooden tree stump thing that I have no idea what it is.  I have about 10 million candles.  And light bulbs.  And Sharpees.  And Post-Its.  And extension cords.  And dishware.  And wrenches.  And scripts.  Not to mention enough books to stock a small library.  It’s been very hard on me but I’ve managed to throw some of it away.  Not as much as I think Adam would like me to, but I’ve made an effort.  I have been better the last day or so.  Today I threw the prop away.  Three lamps.  A guitar.  A mirror.  A Pee Wee Herman Doll.  A stupid goblet that David gave me.  A clock.  A desk.  A filing cabinet.  Three book cases.  A CD rack.  Two bedside tables.  A statue of Buddha.  A pair of handcuffs.  (He might regret that one).  A computer.  A box of books.  All of my kitchen goods, including silverware, pots, pans, skillets, utensils, glasses, measuring cups, and bowls.  It was hard for me to let go of a lot of these things.  I do have to admit that it’s also very freeing.  Now if I could get rid of the other fifty boxes or stuff that’s being moved tomorrow I might feel even more freed from my materialistic goods.

A part from throwing/giving things away we are also renting a storage place for some of our things.  I have one bookcase of nothing but theater design books.  These are books that I don’t want to get rid of but I don’t need in the living room.  Between the two of us we have about 25 boxes of Christmas decorations.   Once I arrive there will be no place to store them.  I also have a pretty extensive collection of  California Franciscan dishware.  I started collecting it when I lived in Cincinnati.  I’ve been picking up more and more over the years.  I get most of it from Ebay and sometimes you buy several pieces just to get the one piece that you want.  So I’ve had to do things like buy three plates to get the butter dish in the collection.  Long story/’short, I have about 20 plates.  So I’ve pulled out place settings for 10 and the rest is going in to storage.  In the spring I’d like to get rid of the extra pieces on Ebay and then take the money to get things I’d really like for the apartment.

So Adam and I over the past few weeks/day have been stuffing my belongings into boxes, labeling them as to whether they go to storage or the apartment, what room they are assigned to and trying in all that time to make sure that none of it’s going to break in the trip.  We finished around 6:00 p.m. tonight.  About six hours ahead of what I’d expected.  Adam was pushing for 8:00 but I thought I was being more realistic.  Turned out we were both ahead of schedule and by 8:00 we were sitting in the cozy restaurant down the street having a glass of wine.

Also in the last month we’ve painted all the rooms in the apartment but that bathrooms.  Yes, bathrooms, we have one of the only not-upscale apartments in the city that I know of that has a second bathroom.  I’ll give you guys more details about what things look like in the next few weeks.

The other thing I’ve done over the past month or so with Adam’s help is to figure out where all of our furniture is going to go once it’s all here.  It was also the deciding factor on what I was going to keep and what I was going to throw away.  So about six weeks ago, while Adam was baking a cake I took out my trusty tape measure and I did measurements of all the rooms in the apartment.  Then I dumped all the information into my computer drafting program and what would you know I had a scale ground plan of the apartment.  Then I took rough measurements of all the furniture in the apartment and spent a couple of days tossing around ideas as to its placement.  And except for a couple of exceptions everything has worked where I planned for it.

Here’s our new apartment.

Floor Plan

So.

You enter the apartment through the upper left hallway, and enter in the foyer.  The brown box is cabinet/counter that Adam created years ago.  We spruced it up by replacing the cabinets and adding shelves.  The blue box is a long table that I’m bringing that’s blond wood.  Next to it is a chair and across from it is a fake shelfy fireplace that Adam has had for years.  To the far left, the very, very small room is the kitchen.  Thus the reason for the added cabinets and counter.  Our bathroom is actually bigger than our kitchen.  That being said, we did just get a brand new fridge so it’s not all that bad.

In the upper right corner is our sunken living room.  It’s a fairly large room.  You can see the sectional sofa, chairs etc.  The brown table in the lower left corner of the room is our dining table.  It fits perfectly in the corner and when we have dinner parties we just move the chair on the corner of the rug a little, rotate the table and there you go a dining room.  You may see the little red lines on the top and bottom of the room.  Those are huge paintings Adam painted on to the walls of the room.  They are beautiful reproductions of famous paintings.  They also dictate where the furniture has to go so it can be a challenge.

Down the hallway from the living room, below the kitchen is the bathroom.  It’s peach.  Let me repeat that.  It’s peach.  It has all the original ceramic tile, floor tile, and fixtures from when the apartment was built.  As tacky as the color seems I love that it’s all original.

The little square below to the left of the bathroom is our second half bath.  It’s tiny but as I said I don’t have any friends who have second bathrooms unless they have “real” apartments.

The room the half bath is attached to is the second bedroom.  It’s tiny but it holds a bed, my desk and Adams chest of drawers.  It’s perfect for guests and is functional for us in as well.

The last room is our bedroom.  It’s my favorite room in the house.  It has A LOT of deep dark natural woods and the paint color is my favorite.  It’s very comfortable and cozy and as I’m fond of saying it looks like a grown up bedroom.

The other thing worth mentioning is that it has four HUGE closets by New York standards.  One in each bedroom and one in the hallway and one if the foyer.  It also has a little pantry in the bathroom.

It really is going to be a wonderful home.  I can’t believe that in 9.5 hours the movers are going to arrive.  They are going to take the boxes out of mine and Chuck’s apartment and put them in a truck.  They are going to drive ten minutes.  And they are going to take the boxes from the truck and put them in my new home that I’m sharing with the best boyfriend ever.

Adam.

Maddog’s Ramblings…

I’m not even sure what to say tonight.  It’s not often that I don’t have something to say.  As you know I have an opinion on just about everything.

Let’s see.

I didn’t hear back from Ronnie.  I didn’t expect to really.  Of course I hit reply all so it wouldn’t have surprised me if someone I didn’t know that he sent it to, would have replied.

Do not decide once you get the bill that the service was bad because a 20 percent tip is going to be 30 dollars.  Tonight I had a table tell me that they were figuring out what to tip me, but they were a little concerned because I hadn’t been very attentive.  I didn’t even know what to say, so I just walked away.  Here’s how attentive I wasn’t.  They were from Canada.  The woman on the left’s name was Diane.  The woman on the right’s name was Jackie.  Her husband called her the “Little Trouble Maker.”  I was so inattentive that they each got three drinks in the hour they were at my table.  If you are going to complain about me, then do it before I drop the check, when I’ve actually done something wrong.  Not after the fact.

Don’t get upset with me when you point to an item on the menu and I bring it to you.  That’ my job.  I can’t really know that you meant to point at a different item on the menu.

Don’t yell at me in a foreign language.  I don’t understand you and it just means that I’m going to ignore you for the rest of the meal.

Adam and I are in apartment hell right now.  I’ll fill you in tomorrow with photos.  Let’s just say that our management company told Adam today that his job was not to “manage” our appointment with the plumber, the delivery man, the carpenter and the super.  I just gave my dictionary away.  Perhaps someone out there in Internet land can tell me the definition of “manage.”

Did you know it’s next to impossible in NYC to donate goods to a charity.  In a city of 8 million people I’ve only found three organizations that will come and pick up stuff.  Housing Works is a great organization but they are upscale.  They will only come and get “real” furniture.  The other two charities I don’t like but I figure it’s better than throwing the stuff away.  The Salvation Army (doesn’t like gays) will come and pick up the stuff.  In November.  And Catholic Charities won’t come pick up the stuff because it’s on the third floor.  Clearly the recipients of their charity only get help if it’s easy.  I now have 13 bags of clothing, all name brand some of which has never been worn that I don’t know what to do with.  I have a truck full of furniture I have no idea what to do with it.  And I’m moving on Sunday and I need it all to go away by then.  Any suggestions?

Did I mention that I was moving on Sunday?

Did everyone out there hear that “All porn makes you gay?”  Yeah.  It’s true.  I read it on the Internet.  Actually Micheal Schwartz, chief of staff for Senator Tom Coburn (R-OK) said it at the Focus on the Family, Values Voters Summit.  I’ve pondered this for two days since reading about it.  According to Blazing Grace in 2002, 1 in 4 people admitted to seeing a porn movie in the last year.  And that’s only the ones who admitted it.  And a movie is very different than viewing porn on say X-Tube, or Manhunt, or any of the other sites that one can see porn.  Not that I would know anything about this.  So if I’m following all this correctly 25% of the population was gay in 2002.  Clearly we are every where.  As someone posted on one site, if everyone who looked at porn was gay there would not need to be a fight for gay rights.  Everyone you know would BE gay.  We’d be the majority and it wouldn’t be an issue.

Now I must go to sleep.  The plumber is coming at 9:00.  I have to spend the day packing.  And it’s 4:30 and my boyfriend is asleep in the next room and as much as I like all of you, I’d much rather be snuggling with him.

Oh dear.  Oh dear.  Oh dear.  I just checked out Blazing Grace as I was starting to close it.  It’s a font of information.  You can be cured from your sexual addiction through the love of our savior Jesus Christ.  You can also be cured of your attraction to the boy down the street.  If you are a boy that is.  You will learn the dangers of masturbation and how it “robs the wife of himself.”  My favorite is comparing Gollum’s love of the ring in Lord of the Rings to Man’s need to masturbate.   How can you not laugh out loud when you read on a website, that’s trying to be serious, “Like Gollum, I was blind to what my precious was doing to me.”  I rest my case.  Go check it out.  You’ll be cured, before porn makes you gay.  PS.  Based on what I read, you girls have no need to masturbate, look at porn or be attracted to the girl down the street.  What boring lives you lead.

A Letter to the Family…

I got the following two emails from my cousin’s common law husband.  The father of her three children.  The family of five that gets it’s medical coverage paid for by the state.  Who’s rent is subsidized by Section 8.  Who’s family is fed by food stamps.  My cousin who received gastric bypass surgery paid for through medicaid.  Who’s pregnancies were all covered by medicaid.  The same cousin who never graduated from high school even though she only had one more semester to go.  The same cousin who’s not had a job in almost four years…for various reasons.

From Ronnie:

> “I BET YOU DIDN’T SEE THIS
> IN THE NEWSPAPER OR
> ON THE 6 O’CLOCK NEWS”
> ~
> The Sailor Pictured Below Is,
> Navy Petty Officer,
> PO2
> (Petty Officer, Second Class)
> EOD2
> (Explosive Ordnance Disposal, Second Class)
> “MIKE MONSOOR”
> April 5th, 1981 ~ September 29th, 2006
> [cid:1.1542176882@web112512.mail.gq1.yahoo.com]
> [cid:2.1542176883@web112512.mail.gq1.yahoo.com]
> Mike Monsoor,
> Was Awarded “The Congressional Medal Of Honor” Last Week,
> For Giving His Life In Iraq, As He Jumped On, And Covered With His Body, A Live Hand Grenade,
> That Was Accidentally Dropped By A Navy Seal,
> Saving The Lives Of A Large Group Of Navy Seals That Was Passing By!
> ~
> During Mike Monsoor’s Funeral,
> At Ft. Rosecrans National Cemetery , In San Diego , California .
> The Six Pallbearers Removed The Rosewood Casket From The Hearse,
> And Lined Up On Each Side Of Mike Monsoor’s Casket,
> Were His Family Members, Friends, Fellow Sailors, And Well-wishers.
> The Column Of People Continued From The Hearse, All The Way To The Grave Site.
> What The Group Didn’t Know At The Time Was,
> Every Navy Seal
> (45 To Be Exact)
> That Mike Monsoor Saved That Day Was Scattered Throughout The Column!
> ~
> As The Pallbearers Carried The Rosewood Casket
> Down The Column Of People To The Grave Side.
> The Column Would Collapse.
> Which Formed A Group Of People That Followed Behind.
> ~
> Every Time The Rosewood Casket Passed A Navy Seal,
> He Would Remove His Gold Trident Pin From His Uniform,
> And Slap It Down Hard,
> Causing The Gold Trident Pin To Embed Itself
> Into The Top Of The Wooden Casket!
> Then The Navy Seal Would Step Back From The Column, And Salute!
> ~
> Now For Those,
> (And Me)
> Who Doesn’t Know What A Trident Pin Is or What It Looks Like?
> Here Is The Definition And Photo!
> ~
> After One Completes The Basic Navy Seals Program Which Lasts For Three Weeks,
> And Is Followed By Seal Qualification Training,
> Which Is 15 More Weeks Of Training,
> Necessary To Continue Improving Basic Skills And To Learn New Tactics And Techniques,
> Required For An Assignment To A Navy Seal Platoon.
> After successful completion,
> Trainees Are Given Their Naval Enlisted Code,
> And Are Awarded The Navy Seal Trident Pin.
> With This Gold Pin They Are Now Officially Navy Seals!
> It Was Said,
> That You Could Hear Each Of The 45 Slaps From Across The Cemetery!
> By The Time The Rosewood Casket Reached The Grave Site,
> It Looked As Though It Had A Gold Inlay From The 45 Trident Pins That Lined The Top!
> [cid:3.1542176883@web112512.mail.gq1.yahoo.com]
> This Was A Fitting End To An Eternal Send-Off For A Warrior Hero!
> This Should Be Front-Page News!
> Instead Of The Garbage We Listen To And See Every Day.
> ~
> Here’s A Good Idea!
> Since The Main Stream Media Won’t Make This News.
> Then We Choose To Make It News By Forwarding It.
> ~
> I Am Proud Of All The Branches Of Our Military.
> If You Are Proud Too, Please Pass This E-Mail On.
> ~
> If Not,
> Then Delete This E-Mail.
> But Rest Assured,
> That The Fine Men And Women Of Our Military
> Will Continue To Serve And Protect Your
> Freedom And Right To Do So!
> <>
> “GOD BLESS AND KEEP OUR TROOPS SAFE!

and then there was this one:

> U.S. Marine
>
> A U.S. Marine squad
> was marching north
> of Fallujah when they came upon an Iraqi terrorist,
> badly
> injured and unconscious. On the opposite side of the road
> was an
> American Marine in a similar but less serious state.
>
> The Marine was
> conscious and alert and as first aid was
> given to both men, the squad leader
> asked the injured Marine
> what had happened. The Marine reported, “I was
> heavily
> armed and moving north along the highway here, and coming
> south
> was a heavily armed insurgent. We saw each other and
> both took cover in the
> ditches along the road. I yelled to
> him that Saddam Hussein was a miserable,
> lowlife scum bag
> who got what he deserved, and he yelled back that
> Ted
> Kennedy is a fat, good-for-nothing, left wing liberal drunk
> who
> doesn’t know how to drive. So I said that Osama Bin
> Laden dresses and acts
> like a frigid, mean-spirited lesbian!
> He retaliated by yelling, “Oh yeah?
> Well, so
> does Nancy Pelosi!” “And, there we were, in the
> middle of the
> road, shaking hands, when a truck hit
> us.”

I’ve been getting these emails ever since they got a computer.  One every eight or nine days.  I started a reply to one, and finally decided that it was a losing battle so deleted it.  I think I’d had enough today.

Here’s my reply:

Ronnie,

You need to realize that the reason very few of our soldiers who die in Iraq are represented in the mainstream media is because George Bush realized before the was in Iraq started that he’d loose support for it very fast if Americans got to view planes full of coffins as they did during the Vietnam War.  Until reporters filed for access under the Freedom of Information Act there were no photos taken of the remains of soldiers coming home from Afhanistan or Iraq.  Following along that train of thought, very little information was given about how or why the soldiers died.  And while we are on the subject of funerals for fallen soldiers, did you know that George Bush is the only US president that never attended the funeral of a fallen soldier.  He was afraid of how it would look to the media.

As per the email about Osama bin Ladan and Ted Kennedy.  The joke is in bad taste.  Let me repeat that…BAD TASTE!  If you really think that Osama bin Laden and Ted Kennedy have the same view of our country then it’s high time you do some reading on what Ted Kennedy did for America.  Do you know he was a huge proponent and supporter of Medicaid and Medicare?  The whole reason my mother has health insurance is because of people like Ted Kennedy.  Do you know that the reason your kids are able to see a doctor when they are sick when you don’t have the money to pay for it is because of people like Ted Kennedy.  The conservative right would tell you that President Obama’s health care plan will lead to socialized medicine.  I don’t know how to break this to you, but you get treated through socialized medicine.  Your rent is paid through social services.  My mother gets her healthcare paid through social services.  I got every vaccination I ever received as a child through social services.  My family got food stamps when I was a kid through social services.  And all of these things are through great people like Ted Kennedy who fought for the little guy even though he was rich beyond both of our imaginations.

It’s one thing to disagree with someone politically.  It’s even okay to get heated about it and sometimes even yell about it.  It’s wrong on every level to equate someone who thinks differently than you as a “terrorist,” unpatriotic,” or “evil.”  Every night on Fox News they have someone preaching that Obama is trying to destroy the country.  That Nancy Pelosi is working for Al Queda.  Do you really believe these things?  Do you really believe that when Barack Obama gets up in the morning his number one goal is to do all the damage he can do to our country.  George Bush did a lot of things I thought were stupid.  The Iraq War for one.  There were never weapons of mass destruction and it’s been more than documented that Saddam had no ties with the people behind 9/11.  I have no idea what his reasons for going to war were, but I think he had them.  I don’t think he got up one day and decided to destroy our country as we know it.  I disagree with him.  I wish he’d never been president.  I don’t wish him dead.  There are many people out there who would love to see Obama dead.  They scream that he is the anti-christ.  It truly believe that any person out there who wishes our president dead is UNPATRIOTIC.  We live in a country where are leaders are elected through a political process.  People run for office.  The people vote and the person with the most votes wins.  So whether you like it or not, we had an election…Obama won.  If you don’t like it, then get out there, find out who’s running against him, sign up to volunteer, and then do all you can to see that he isn’t elected again.  That’s the American Way.  Shooting the man might sound great to you, but it undermines the very essence of the democracy laid out in our Constitution.

I’ll leave you with this one point.  I watch the news on CNN, Fox News, and MSNBC.  They are all biased.  They all say they aren’t but I think they are.  I do know this though.  Fox News preys on people they think won’t bother to do the research on the points they make.  Do some research on line and you’ll discover that they play to people they think are too stupid to know the difference.  People who are poor and unemployed and worried they are about to lose their house, their children, and their well being.  So I say this.  Believe what you want.  But listen to what the other side has to say.  Turn the TV to CNN.  Or NPR.  Or MSNBC.  Do some follow up online.  Read what’s out there.  Then make a decision.  Don’t believe what they tell you because they think you are too stupid to know the difference.  I don’t think that’s the case, don’t let them think it either.

Maddog Goes to Church

Hold on a second.

I have to get my soap box.

I’ll be right back.

Okay.

I’m back.

I saw this photo on line to day at Joe.My.God.

QuoteTheBibleToo

Hmmm.

Makes a girl wonder.  So I googled Deuteronomy 22:13-21.

This is the passage as it’s written in the King James Bible.

13If any man take a wife, and go in unto her, and hate her,

14And give occasions of speech against her, and bring up an evil name upon her, and say, I took this woman, and when I came to her, I found her not a maid:

15Then shall the father of the damsel, and her mother, take and bring forth the tokens of the damsel’s virginity unto the elders of the city in the gate:

16And the damsel’s father shall say unto the elders, I gave my daughter unto this man to wife, and he hateth her;

17And, lo, he hath given occasions of speech against her, saying, I found not thy daughter a maid; and yet these are the tokens of my daughter’s virginity. And they shall spread the cloth before the elders of the city.

18And the elders of that city shall take that man and chastise him;

19And they shall amerce him in an hundred shekels of silver, and give them unto the father of the damsel, because he hath brought up an evil name upon a virgin of Israel: and she shall be his wife; he may not put her away all his days.

20But if this thing be true, and the tokens of virginity be not found for the damsel:

21Then they shall bring out the damsel to the door of her father’s house, and the men of her city shall stone her with stones that she die: because she hath wrought folly in Israel, to play the whore in her father’s house: so shalt thou put evil away from among you.

I’m no biblical scholar and don’t want to be for the matter.  But a third grader could figure out that if a man discovers his wife is not a virgin after he marries her, then she shall be put to death.

I also found these verses:

Leviticus 20:10 “If a man commits adultery with another man’s wife–with the wife of his neighbor–both the adulterer and the adulteress must be put to death.

Proverbs 6:32But a man who commits adultery lacks judgment; whoever does so destroys himself.

How about some New Testament:

Matthew 19:9 “I tell you that anyone who divorces his wife, except for marital unfaithfulness, and marries another woman commits adultery.

I didn’t spend hours tonight looking for references in the Bible about homosexuality.  What I did find shows that it’s discussed far less than adultery is.

So here’s the thing.  Who the fuck do these people thing they are?  You know, the Ted Haggards of the world who preach and spew hatred to thousands of people daily in the name of Jesus.  It would take about ten seconds to find a list of a thousand “Christians” who have cheated on their spouses.  Their Bible which condemns me to hell, seems to let them go on TV apologize and be forgiven.  I love the hypocrisy of “THEIR” religion and their bible.  It’s funny how they pick and choose the verses which work for them.  Maggie Gallagher of National Organization for Marriage was an unwed mother.  According to her bible she should have been stoned to death.  Anita Bryant one of the loudest opponents of gay rights has been married twice.  She should have been punished for divorcing her husband and stoned to death for not being a virgin when she married her second husband.

As I said I’m no biblical scholar but I do know a few versus by heart:

Matthew 7:12.  Do onto others as you would have them do onto you.

John 3:16  For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.

The first one is for me the most important one of all.  Who the fuck am I to judge.  As long as you are not hurting anyone or anything then go for it.  If you want to enjoy having sex with a pumpkin then just clean up after yourself.  If you are into scat and can find someone to do it with you, then go for it.  You enjoy having a fist shoved up your butt then go for it.  As long as you don’t force me to do and don’t make me hear about your escapades I don’t care.

As for the second verse.  In the two seconds it took me to look it up I found this:  It’s the most widely quoted and is considered the most important verse of all because it is a summery of most of the doctrines of the bible.  It doesn’t say unless you are gay.  Or an adulterer.  Or even a killer for that matter.  It just states that if you believe in Jesus then you have a path to heaven.

It’s late and I’m not sure any of this is making any sense.  So I’ll end on this.  Fuck you and the bible you use to condemn me.  I’ve said this for years and I will say it again.  There is a special place in hell for all the Christians out there who teach hate and intolerance.  I don’t believe in the rapture, but if it ever does happen there are going to be a hell of a lot of upset people when they are the ones left behind and all the heathens who have lived their lives in a forgiving, loving mannerr are taken away.  And besides if I do end up in hell, just think of all the fabulous parties we can have, because all the fun people will be there.




A Man of the Cloth…

I assume that you know you are supposed to tip because you tipped me 10 bucks.  Then I also have to assume that you know that 10 bucks is not 20% of 157.00.  Actually it’s not even 10%.  Perhaps the education system in the UK is worse than the education system in Alabama.  If that’s the case then I guess I can forgive you.  You were too stupid to know better.

THE MINISTER.

THE MINISTER.

THE MINISTER.

He was the pastor of some mega-church in LA.  I know this because he told me at least 12 times.  I also know he’s charismatic.  Why…because he told me at least 12 times.  I also know that he’s good at engaging people when he speaks…because he told me at least 12 times.

What I really find interesting is that I can’t find him on line at all.  I can find pastors with his name, but not him.  You’d think if you were the pastor of a mega church in LA that you’d be out there on the Internet somewhere.  But what do I know?

I do know that he’s a freak show.  ONE GINORMOUS FREAK SHOW.

Adam and I met him at the rehearsal dinner.  We arrived late and the only place to sit was next to him.  We introduced ourselves.  And thus started his intense need to make sure we knew that he was as special as he thought he was.  He bragged about his church.  He bragged about his taking over the church.  He bragged about telling his replacement exactly what he needed to do to succeed in the church.  And then bragged about how he laughed when the guy didn’t do so well.

During all this he drank.  And drank.  And drank.

Finally he got up to say a few words.

And made a few off color remarks that were totally inappropriate for a room full of people you don’t even know.  And especially inappropriate for a wedding.  And VERY inappropriate for a rehearsal dinner with four small children present.  Someone stopped him mid sentence in the middle of his “sex” joke about the bride and groom.

And he drank.

And drank.

And drank.

Okay.  Perhaps we are just over reacting.  We are tired.  A bit cranky.  And he’s a minister.

Tune in to the wedding.

From the moment the wedding started I didn’t like him.

He had no sense of decorum or occasion.  He made jokes when he shouldn’t have.  He made REALLY off color jokes when he really shouldn’t have.  He was sexist.  I repeat SEXIST.  I MEAN VERY SEXIST.  He made jokes about the groom having to take the bride shopping.  He made jokes about the groom promising to listen.  He made jokes about this and that that the groom would have to do.  He made no jokes about what the bride would bring to the table.  It was a very 1950’s approach to the role of the man in the relationship.  He didn’t allow for one second the ceremony to have any seriousness to it.  I don’t think we should play up the emotion…fuck it.  I do think you should play up the emotion.  It’s a big deal, at least it should be a big deal, to stand up in front of your friends and family and declare your undying love for someone.  To say that you will love, honor and obey someone till death do you part.  Anytime the sentimentality of the ceremony started to come through he killed it.  I felt like I was watching a stand up comedian perform.  At one point I leaned over to Adam and asked him whether the wedding was about the bride and groom or about him.  I couldn’t tell which.

I mentioned yesterday that the mothers of the bride and the groom went to a table and poured wine from two different bottles into a common cup.  During the actual ceremony the bride and groom also poured wine from the two bottles and drank from the single glass.  A bit heavy handed if you ask me, but I’ve seen it done before and it makes it’s point.

At the end of the ceremony the minister presents the bride and groom.  They start up the aisle.  Then he goes to the table, picks up the wine glass they’ve taken a drink from, downs it in one gulp, holds one of the wine bottles over his head and shouts, “Let’s party.”

I was done with him at that point.

He finished the first bottle before the reception started.  He was well into the second bottle by the time dinner was over.

He managed to flirt and hit on every single girl in the place.  He even hit on the redneck girls at the bar down the hill.

And he drank.

And drank.

And drank.

When I last saw him the father of the bride was taking his keys away from him so that he wouldn’t drive away drunk in his BMW convertible sports car.  I thought if not for the fear that he’d kill someone that it might make for a fun story if he spent the night in jail for drinking and driving.

The next day the mother of the groom continued to express her unhappiness with him.

The mother of the bride could not express more her love of him.

I didn’t get it.

I still get a bad taste in my mouth when I think of him.

He’s the kind of man who goes to the play ground after school  to “talk” to the little girls.

Here Comes the Bride…

If you say you are not ready to order when I come by for the 15th time.  Don’t get pissy when you have to wait for me to come back to order.  I was patient.  How about a little patience on your part.

The wedding.

We arrive back at the Inn for the wedding around 4:10 or so.  The day is beautiful if not a little hot.  There is not a single cloud in the sky.  The sky is that color of blue that if I put it on stage people would say the sky would never be that color.  The grass is that perfect shade of green that can only be obtained in Southern California by watering the hell out of it.  The windmill is turning, the flowers are in full bloom.  Iced tea, lemonade and water are being served on the lawn as the guest mingle.  The day is damn near perfect.

We are exhausted, tired and thirsty.  We head toward the lemonade, but we are ambushed.  The mother of the groom catches us.  We exchange our hellos.  Adam and I both comment on the day, the place, the flowers, the wedding.  She is having none of that.  She clearly wants to discuss something…the minister.  She was pretty much appalled at his behavior the night before.  The inappropriate jokes.  The drinking.  The smarminess.  She wanted to know if she was the only one not drinking the kool-aid.  (Actually she may have said that after the wedding but I know she did say it).  Adam and I stood their and listened to her.  Nodding appropriately.  Saying…”right”, “I agree”, “you don’t say.”  At one point she told us that she’d really like to tell us what she thought of him, but she was too much of a Christian to say it.  The Wizard of Oz reference did not go unnoticed.

We were both amazed at how much she went on and on about this.  Of course neither of us were drinking the kool-aid either.  His behavior was inappropriate.  He did drink too much.  He was smarmy.  He had no sense of decorum.  He had no sense of occasion.  We knew all of this and we’d only had dinner with him the night before.  All three of our opinions were confirmed during the ceremony and the reception.  But the minister gets a whole post of his own.

By now it’s 4:45.  We still don’t have lemonade.  And the wedding was supposed to start 15 minutes ago.  I excuse myself and go get Adam and I lemonade and the mother of the groom water.  I make my way back to give them their drinks.  By this time other people have joined them and luckily the topic of conversation has changed.  I enter the conversation as they are discussing what time the wedding will really start.  I tell them it’s actually okay.  The vows are never supposed to start when the minute hand is falling.  It’s bad luck.  So she has about 15 minutes to get out here.  My guess is early.  Someone actually says they don’t think she’ll appear until 5:30.  We excuse ourselves and go to find a seat.  By this time of course everyone is seated and there aren’t two chairs together.  I whisper to Adam that after the work we’ve been doing we are NOT standing and we are NOT sitting apart.  Someone gets up and comes over and after some moving around we get two seats together.

By now it’s after 5:00 and the ceremony hasn’t started.  I think it finally began around 5:15, 5:20.

There is a hush.  The guitarist changes his song and plays the first song listed on the program.  The program that Adam designed, printed, I punched holes in, and strung ribbon through, that Adam tied in a bow.  That program.  According to said program the wedding was starting.  We get the first song.  Then a friend gets up and sings a song that no one can hear because I think someone told him to whisper.  I’m a little annoyed because he’s an actor.  The first thing you learn in action class is how to be an “ice cream cone” and how to project.  As he sings father of the groom comes in.  The mother’s of the bride come in.  The go to the table behind where the wedding is taking place, and pour wine from two bottles in to one glass.  Then they take a drink.  (We are not sure what this was about.  We get the pouring of the wine, but not the drinking).  They sit.  The flower brats girls come in.  Actually they were quite beautiful.  Then the maid of honor.

The music shifts again.

And finally.

Finally.

The bride.  She is beautiful.  Adam saw her in the wedding dress on the previous Saturday.  I wanted to wait until the wedding.  She is beautiful.  Stunning.  Of course one could ask if there are ugly brides.  I once thought the same thing about babies, until my cousin Tony was born.  He was the ugliest child I’d ever seen in my life.  He was ugly till he was about three and now he’s very handsome.  I digress.  She is beautiful.  Her father escorts her down the aisle.

The vows begin.

The exchanging of the vows in theory should have been wonderful.  They included a number of different elements that I liked.  The traditional vows.  The love, honor, obey stuff.  They actually left out the obey part.  They had an exchange of vows they wrote themselves.  And several other things.  Yes in theory it should have been great.

EXCEPT FOR THE FUCKING MINISTER.

FUCKING.

MINISTER.

I just wanted to slap him.

I digress.

Again.

The ceremony is over.  The bride walks back up the aisle as two of their friends sing.

It’s over.

Adam and I jump up and head over to the reception area.  We want to make sure everything is ready to go.

Everything is under control.

We light the lanterns.

We light the luminaries.

We both get glasses of wine.

We plant ourselves just inside the door of the reception hall so that all the fucking guests will keep their goddamn asses out of the reception until the house is open.  They keep poking their heads in, to see how it looks.

IT LOOKS FUCKING GREAT.  MY BOYFRIEND AND I HAVE BEEN WORKING AROUND THE CLOCK FOR FOUR DAYS AND IT LOOKS FUCKING GREAT.  NOW GET YOUR GODDAMN ASSES OUT OF HERE BEFORE I GO ALL BALLISTIC ON YOUR ASSES!!!!

While we are standing there, Adam decides we should reserve our places at our table.  The tables have been assigned but not the chairs.  We want to make sure that we can sit together and be facing the front of the room  He picks out chairs for us.

And thus begins the waiting.

Does it really take 90 minutes to take photos.

I could remove your appendix and give you a boob job in the amount of time it takes to take photos after a wedding.  I’m hungry and I don’t get to eat until you get your asses in here.

Finally we get the word that everything is ready to go.

We open the house.  (Opening the house is a theater term.  It means letting the audience into the theater).

Everyone mingles and finds their seats.

Turns out we are at the kids table.  Two of the flower girls, and the ring bearer are at our table.  Did we piss someone off.  I look up and discover the minister is sitting with the groom’s parents.  His mom must be loving that.

Finally after 27 hours.  The door to the hall is opened and the bride and groom are presented.  Thank fucking god.  We can eat.

The rest is pretty normal.  There were toasts.  And toasts.  And toasts.

Adam was in charge of making sure the music was the right volume in the room.  So when someone got up to speak, he would run in the other room and turn down the music.  When they finished he would get up and turn it back up.  It had been prearranged that when the best man got up to toast a certain song would be played and the volume would be turned up a little.  Adam had no more than sat down after starting the song and turning up the volume that someone turned it down.  Seems an old man on the other side of the room decided it was too loud.  Ugh.  Ugh.  Ugh.  We compromised and turned it up a little.

And the toasts continued.  Their was crying.  And photos.  And gossiping.  And chatting.

The food was good.  There was alcohol.

Finally dinner was over and it was time to dance.  There was a dance floor set up in the entry to the reception hall.  (The dance floor was laid crooked which still bothers me.  Would it have been too much to make sure it was parallel to the wall when you were laying it?)  And we all stood around hanging out.

Adam and I were exhausted.  But all of our hard work had paid off and everyone seemed pleased with the outcome.  I leaned over and asked Adam if perhaps when we got back to the hotel we could build a fire in our fireplace, crack open a bottle of wine, and just relax.  He said he thought that was a great idea but didn’t know where we were going to get wine.  I told him I’d take care of it and I went to Bethany, the hotel lady, and asked her for a bottle of wine.  She not only gave us wine but gave us a cork screw and glasses.  I love Bethany.

And the dancing continued.

And then it was 10:00.

And the dancing stopped.

The lights were turned on.

The reception was over.

So everyone began to gather up their belongings and move back to the hotel to change clothes so they could go the bar down the hill.

Adam and I lingered.

And lingered.

And lingered.

WILL YOU FUCKING PEOPLE GO AWAY SO WE CAN GO HOME????

Finally everyone was gone.

I thought we were just going to close up and go home.

Adam thought we were going to clean up.

He won.

So we spent the next 30 minutes after everyone else had gone, picking up, blowing out candles, throwing away luminaries, bringing in our stuff from the outdoor tables.  I did as I was told.

I WAS PISSED THOUGH.

We’d spent five days doing this and not a single person offered to help.  NOT ONE SINGLE FUCKING PERSON!!!!

We finished.

And we went to the bar.

The father of the bride bought us a drink.

We chatted.

We finished our drinks.

We got in our car and made our way back to the hotel.

Where we promptly fell asleep.

No fire.

No wine.

No sex.

I’m really starting to not like this trip to California.

Maddog’s back from KY.

Got back from KY last night.  The whole weekend was awesome.  I had one of the best times at home that I’ve had in forever.  Full details will follow this week.

Tonight I must make it short.  I’m exhausted from my weekend activities.  And even more exhausted from the drive back yesterday.  Not to mention that I have a boyfriend who is waiting for me in bed.

So I promise…

tomorrow night:  The wedding.

Thursday night:  The minister.

Friday night:  My trip to Kentucky.