NE – Page 2 – HappyStinkingJoy

The Duplicity of a “Vacation” in “Omaha”… Part Deux…

After our fun-filled day at the Henry Doorly Zoo and the disaster at the Cheesecake Factory, we drove back to Mahoney State park and our camper for another good night of sleep. So far, our family’s summer vacation was getting off with mixed reviews. The wife and two boys were having a blast. I was having a moderately good time, but the stupid apple cider incident at the Cheesecake Factory had left a bad taste in my mouth (which I’m sure a refill of apple cider would have washed away).

Day three of the vacation was designated as our day to spend in the state park. Just a day to relax and maybe enjoy the park’s water park. We actually slept in this day, which was nice. After a late lunch at the camper, we donned our swimming attire and drove to the pool.

Mahoney State Park has a very nice water park/pool. We actually spent most of the day there, and we all got a little sunburned. There was a crowded wave pool, a kiddie area, a diving board and like three decent water slides. All of the areas were fun, but I learned to hate people on tubes. The wave pool was a blast when you weren’t dodging some idiot on a tube, and I can’t count the number of times I had some tubed jerkwad’s feet in my face. Apparently, when you are on a tube, you don’t have to display common courtesy to anyone. Everyone else is responsible for getting out of your way. Guess I should have forked over a few bucks and rented a tube myself so I could have been a rude jerkwad.

After a cooling day at the pool, we retreated to the camper and enjoyed another camper meal. In the evening, we played a round of mini golf (which is the only kind of golf non-rich people play). Earlier in the day, a group of college-aged kids walked by our campsite with golf bags on their shoulders, obviously on there way to the driving range.

“There go the rich kids,” I snarled as they sauntered past.

“How do you know they are rich?” asked the wife.

“Because they’re carrying golf clubs,” I pointed out.

“They look like college kids, and they are camping, so I doubt they are rich,” said the wife.

“Yeah, whatever… it is obvious they have rich parents,” I said.

“How can you know that?” asked the wife.

“Because they play golf,” I stated. Sometimes I just don’t understand the wife’s naiveté.

“And we’re camping, and we don’t golf, thus we are poor?” asks the wife.

“You’re starting to catch on,” I said, smiling with the knowledge that the wife was grasping a major life lesson. Apparently, she rolls her eyes as she learns…

Another night in the camper was followed by our fourth day of vacation. This day was another to be spent in Omaha. After a light lunch at camp, we drove back in to Omaha and straight to Fun-Plex. Fun-Plex is a small amusement park with both amusement park rides and a small water park. It was so stinking hot that we tried to include some form of water activity on any day we actually spent a considerable amount of time outside. Even the zoo had water misters placed conveniently throughout.

Fun-Plex was pretty okay. We bumper boated and roller coasted and tilt-o-whirled and go carted before the heat started to get to us and we retreated to the water park. The water was a little dirtier here than at Mahoney, and the waves in the wave pool weren’t quite as ferocious, but there were just as many little old men and fat ladies in tubes sticking their feet in my face. Again, there were also slides, and a nice “lazy river” that was fun to swim in.

Two days in a bathing suit surrounded by young people in bathing suits made me realize something: I am old and fat… and I’m not too certain I was ever anything different!

I’ve always been a fatty, and I don’t remember ever hanging out with shapely people at a pool anywhere. I think that’s because the shapely people all hang out with other shapely people, and they leave us fatties to ourselves. It’s almost a form of discrimination, I think. I’d see a bunch of shapely girls in bikinis walk by with a group of muscular young men, and then I’d see two fat kids walk by the other direction. And it’s kind of funny, ’cause the skinny people are always looking around and laughing and talking, while the fat people pretty much just stare at the ground. I would probably have other observations about how the skinny people discriminate against (and have more fun than) the fat people, but I spent a lot of time looking at the ground, so I’m sure I missed a lot.

Young people upset me. Especially young, fit people. Even my own kids are often the objects of my jealousy. Both of my boys are relatively fit and healthy. They are also pretty smart, and they aren’t ugly. Because of their fitness and intelligence, I’m sure they will have an advantage in life that my ugly fat belly and ignorance didn’t permit. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I want the best for them. I want them to be successful and happy with whatever they decide to do with their lives. I just wish that I would have been given the advantages of fitness and good looks and intelligence (or at least one of them), but apparently God wanted to put some hurdles in front of me to develop some sort of character trait that I wouldn’t have found if things had been easier for me. I’m sure God is now shaking His head as He realizes that I don’t learn from obstacles (I retreat like a Frenchman), but I think He’s still working with me….

So, after a fun yet somewhat degrading day at Fun-Plex, we let the youngest boy decide on what kind of restaurant to go to for supper. The youngest loves Chinese and Mexican, but he settled on Mexican. I found the closest decent-looking Mexican place and we ate. I don’t remember the name of the place, but it was pretty typical. We got chips and salsa, and the waiter was great at refilling our glasses. I had some sort of fajita-type-stuff, and it was good. Nothing out of this world (at least not enough to remember the name), but everyone seemed satisfied. And I didn’t get screwed on the refills…

The Duplicity of a “Vacation” in “Omaha”… Part 1…

As I last wrote, I was preparing for a wonderful week of vacation in and around Omaha, Nebraska. The wife and I packed up the kids and our travel trailer and headed east. We selected Omaha as our summer vacation destination for a myriad of reasons, all of which I touched on in my last post, but the major reason is: we’re poor and cheap.

The first thing I leaned about pulling a trailer to Omaha in an effort to save money on the old summer vacation is that pulling a trailer when gas is over $3.50 per gallon and you are lucky to be getting 8 miles per gallon is not really saving anyone anything. The second thing I learned is that summer on any interstate is going mean many, many, many road construction delays. So, yeah, our little drive, which should have taken around 7 hours, took more like 10. Ten hours in a vehicle pulling a trailer with outside temperatures of well over 100 degrees F and two kids who love to terrorize each other whenever they get bored spells F-U-N!

So, our first day ends setting up camp (or camper) in Mahoney State Park just outside Omaha. Neat place, except it looks to me like making a reservation was kind of like inviting the State of Nebraska to gently screw us. We made reservations to make sure we had a spot to camp, but the portion of the campground that was set aside for reservations was definitely the suckier part of the campground. If we would have just showed up and grabbed a spot, we would have been in the shaded area next to the bathroom/shower house and we would have been able to pick up the WiFi. Instead, we were in pretty much direct sunlight all day long and were like a quarter of a mile from the shower house (and nearest bathrooms). Sure, we have a toilet in the camper, but there were no sewage hook-ups at this park, and a camper with a sewage storage tank full of poop and pee sitting out in the 105°F sun isn’t somewhere anyone could really spend a week. Needless to say, we spent a lot of time driving to the pooper on the other side of the campground… you know… where the WiFi and shade were.

So, after a decent night sleep, we drive into Omaha and head to the Henry Doorly Zoo and Aquarium. The wife was there as a little girl, but none of the rest of us had ever been there. Heard it was cool, so we thought we would check it out. It was cool. Best zoo I have ever been to… not that I’ve been to that many. The Denver Zoo, a zoo in Memphis, and our local excuse for a zoo in Scottsbluff (which isn’t really too bad for a zoo in a town that is way to small to have a zoo). The Omaha Zoo was (according to one of the volunteers that wouldn’t leave us alone) recently named the “best zoo in America”. Apparently, Omaha’s Zoo is always in the top three, but this is the first time it has been named number one. I don’t know what agency ranks the zoos or how credible the volunteer was, but I will admit that I don’t have a hard time believing that the Henry Doorly Zoo is the best zoo in the nation.

For lunch, we ate at one of the cafeterias in the zoo. Overpriced burgers and fries, but not bad food. The zoo took us pretty much the entire day to get through, and it was a lot of walking. By the time we left, we were starving again, and I had special plans for supper.

My family members are big fans of iCarly, and there was an episode where the show kind of poked fun at the portion sizes at the Cheesecake Factory (although they gave it a different name). Ever since that episode, we have wanted to try out a Cheesecake Factory, and Omaha happens to have one. I didn’t tell the family where we were going, so when we pulled up, it was a surprise. We were all excited.

We got seated and the waitress took our drink orders. The oldest boy ordered a pop, and the wife asked if there were free refills on the strawberry lemonade.

“Oh, yeah, all the drinks have free refills,” said the waitress.

So, the youngest boy and the wife got the strawberry lemonades. I, after hearing the waitress make her statement about all of the drinks coming with free refills, decide on the $3.50 glass of chilled spiced cider. Usually, I would have just ordered a pop or an iced tea, but cold apple cider sounded kind of good.

The waitress brought the drinks, and the pop and lemonades are in these monster glasses. My cider is in a much smaller glass, but I’m thinking “guess that means she’ll just have to refill it more often.” The oldest boy and I finished off our drinks before the waitress returned to take our food orders (walking around the zoo all day in the heat makes a guy thirsty). She asked the boy if he would like a refill to which he replied in the affirmative. She then left. She returned shortly with a new pop for the kid and… a glass of water for me. She leaned over and whispered, “I thought you might like this. The cider is the only thing we don’t have free refills on.”

What the…

So I’m going to be drinking freaking water with my Cheesecake Factory meal? I must have had a look on my face that indicated to the wife my displeasure.

“Just order a pop or something,” said the wife.

“No, I’m good,” I pouted.

The waitress hurried away.

“Don’t get all pouty and ruin this for everyone,” said the wife.

“I’m not pouty,” I pouted. “They already got my $3.50 for that little glass of apple juice. They don’t need any more money for drinks from me.”

For your information, apple juice is the cheapest of the juices. I have no research to back that up (because I’m incredibly lazy), but I’m pretty sure it’s true. Whenever you buy a juice that is “100% juice”, it usually isn’t really 100% juice of the kind advertised on the label, especially if it has “cocktail” or “blend” in the title. Usually, it is mostly apple juice with a hint of whatever kind of juice you think you are buying. This is because apple juice is the cheapest juice they can add, yet they can still put “100% juice” on the label. Yet, I gotta pay $3.50 for one tiny glass of cheap apple juice with no free refills! Needless to say, my entire experience at the Cheesecake Factory was ruined at that particular moment. I don’t even really remember what I ordered (some kind of burger I think) or if it was any good (but I know it would have been better with free refills on the cheap apple juice).

By the time the waitress had come around to take our dessert orders, I was so pissed that I skipped dessert entirely. Everyone else ordered cheesecake (because that’s what you do at the Chesecake Factory, right?) and I just sat there being all kinds of pissed off. Myself excluded, I think everyone enjoyed the Cheesecake Factory. My youngest said it was the “best cheesecake ever”… and he doesn’t even like cheesecake… but I personally will never set foot in that particular chain again. Screw me on the apple juice, will you…

Stinking Summer Vacation…

Last summer, the family and I went on a cruise for our summer vacation. It took almost 3 years of scrimping and saving to accumulate enough money to go on this cruise. It was an awesome experience and we had a good time. However, since we went on the expensive cruise last summer, our plans for this summer’s vacation are a little less… well, less.

I had really hoped that by the time I reached my forties, I would be in a financial position to be able to take a decent vacation every summer. Life and the panhandle of Nebraska had different plans for me, and we have to save up for a decent vacation every two or three years. But, with our oldest son entering high school this fall and our youngest not really that far behind, we want to do something fun over the summer to create some memories before the boys are all grown up and far away from the panhandle leading their own successful lives.

This summer, for our family vacation, we are going camping. Camping vacations are kind of our go-to vacation during the summers where we are saving up for a real vacation. Now, we have been camping in Yellowstone National Park and Tetons National Park in Wyoming. We have been camping in Estes Park, Colorado. This summer, we thought we might do something different than a beautiful mountain retreat. This summer, we are going camping near… Omaha.

Okay, we really didn’t plan on going to Omaha on purpose… not really. The oldest boy is in this AYSO soccer thing and the one tournament that it looked like he would actually be able to participate in was in North Platte, NE the same week we were planning our vacation. We still wanted to take a vacation, but we wanted the boy to be able to play in this tournament, so we decided to go camping in Mahoney State Park outside of Omaha. We figured we could visit the Omaha Zoo and whatnot and stop in North Platte on our way back so the kid could get his soccer on.

Well, it turns out that the oldest boy’s age group didn’t have enough kids that could go to North Platte… that and the fact that they didn’t really have a coach. I, being Johnny on the spot, already had made non-refundable reservations at Mahoney, so it looks like eastern Nebraska is our destination for this summer’s vacation.

Omaha…

Nebraska…

Does anyone really take a vacation in stinking Omaha?!? Well, Adventurer Rich and his family are. We’re trend setters like that. Oh, who am I kidding…

Okay, so I’m sure we will have a good time on our vacation. Any time spent with the family is fun… until the boys start fighting… and I lose it and yell at everyone… but there will be good moments. Still, a vacation in Omaha seems a bit oxymoron-ish, but it is what it is. It is an eye-opening exclamation that I need to make more money.

So, Adventurer Rich is looking for a way to make some additional income. I need to do something so the family and I can take real vacations every summer. I’ve thought about delivering pizzas in the evening or something like that, but I’d like to make more money doing something that doesn’t completely suck. I’ve tried a couple of different multi-level marketing things, and I just don’t have what it takes to be successful with those (people who are successful with MLM seem, to me, to be a touch annoying). I don’t mind making people mad, but I really don’t want to annoy anyone…

I’ve messed around on Mechanical Turk, and the work there is kind of fun, but I really need to make more than a couple of bucks an hour or it’s really not worth my time doing it. I’ve thought about writing articles for eHow or about.com, but I don’t really know enough about anything to be able to write any articles that would benefit anyone. “How to Put Your Walmart Shopping Cart in the Cart Corral, You Flipping Moron” probably wouldn’t get a lot of hits and, thus, would not really be a money maker.

sigh

Well, I’ll keep thinking on it. Something will come to me, I hope. In the meantime, I need to go pack. Omaha awaits…

sigh

Gering and Terrytown UNITE: Boycott Jimmy John’s…

Jimmy John’s sucks, and residents of Terrytown and Gering, Nebraska need to boycott it. (I wrote this intro sentence after I actually wrote the blog post because I’m working on my SEO 🙂 )

A couple of days ago, the wife was looking for some fast food for supper. It was one of those crazy hectic evenings where there really wasn’t a lot of time to cook. She had a rough day and was looking to have something (other than the standard pizza) delivered. “Hey,” she says to herself (because she talks to herself when she is losing her mind), “Jimmy John’s has good, relatively healthy food and they deliver!”

So, the wife calls Jimmy John’s, orders some grub, pays for said grub with a credit card, and then (thinking it strange that delivery was not offered) asked to have the order delivered.

“Uh, you live in Terrytown,” says the fast food genius on the other end of the line.

“Yeah,” says the wife.

“We don’t deliver out of Scottsbluff,” says the minimum-wage-earning superstar at Jimmy John’s.

“Huh?” says the wife.

“Yeah, we don’t deliver anything south of Beltline,” says my new favorite person in the whole entire world.

“But we’re only like 1 mile south of Beltline,” says the wife.

“Uh, you are gonna have to pick up your food,” says, I believe, Mr. Jimmy John himself, and can’t you just imagine him picking at a pimple as he’s talking?

So, the wife rubbed down the horses, pulled the irrigation line, pulled the milkers off the cows, rounded-up the sheep, put down our rabid family dog, pulled the fevered baby from his crib, loaded the crew into the sled and mushed the dogs all the way to Jimmy John’s. Okay, that may be slightly exaggerated, but it was a pain in the ass. Thanks for being a buttmunch company, Jimmy John’s!

Jimmy John’s does not deliver to Gering or Terrytown?!? How have the noble citizens of Gering not taken to the streets en masse to demonstrate against this monstrosity? How has this not made the cover of the Gering Citizen (a Gering-based tabloid that is pro-Gering… so extremely pro-Gering that its reporting often makes FOX News’ reporting on anything conservative and the Huffington Post‘s reporting on anything liberal actually seem fair and balanced), or at least the topic of a scathing editorial? I cannot comprehend how one of the loud-mouthed, opinionated citizens of Gering (and Gering has a plethora of those) hasn’t started a boycott of some sort against the tom-fool shenanigans of Jimmy John’s! Let me say that, as of this point in time, I shall lead the call for a boycott of the ridiculousness that is Jimmy John’s!

For those not from the panhandle of Nebraska, please let me explain the ridiculousness of that which I just wrote. See, Scottsbluff and Gering are two communities separated by the North Platte River. Terrytown is a village that occupies a sliver of land between Scottsbluff and Gering and is only a “village” at all because some guy named Terry with a lot of money wanted a town named after himself. For all intensive purposes, these three municipalities are one community.
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Photobucket — Terrytown is so stinking small, it isn't even on this map...

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Most everyone in this area would agree with that except for the residents of Gering — they tend to be anal and think they are better than everyone “north of the river” (which is how they refer to the unwashed masses in Scottsbluff).

See, part of me blames the residents of Gering for the whole Jimmy John’s debacle. If Gering would merge with Scottsbluff, we would become like the 7th largest “city” in Nebraska. Instead, we are two puny little communities (three, if you count Terrytown… which no one does) who have issues attracting not only decent-paying employers (wanna work at Walmart, anyone?), but we have issues getting in amenities and businesses that many in the area would like to see come in (Red Lobster — the lower-middle class’s fancy seafood place). If we were merged, I bet Jimmy John’s would deliver to Terrytown and Gering.

However, I’m not going to blame this one on Gering (mostly because I wouldn’t rule out a vehement Gering resident trying to murder me in my sleep). I blame this one on the cheap-ass who owns the Jimmy John’s franchise. I’m guessing one of two things is happening:

The franchisee only bought the rights for the Scottsbluff zip code and is therefore contractually prohibited from delivering outside of the stated franchise area. See, the franchisee doesn’t really care about the residents of Gering and Terrytown (whom I’m guessing provide a significant amount of business to the restaurant). I guess the franchisee wouldn’t care if we all just stopped supporting the business? I say we give it a try!
The franchisee or management of the restaurant all come from an alternate reality where people in Scottsbluff look at people “south of the river” with the same contempt that Gering residents currently look at “northies” in our reality — because I could see some diphole actually opening a business in Gering and making deliveries to Gering only just to spite people from Scottsbluff.

It’s almost like the Hatfields and McCoys around here… except Gering is the Hatfields and they are out for blood, and Scottsbluff is the McCoys and they gave up on stupid, ego-driven feuds years ago.

I can almost guarantee that some ninny from Gering will read this post and think, “Adventurer Rich, as smart and well written as he is, just doesn’t understand the ramifications of a merger between Scottsbluff and Gering and how that merger would diminish the “voice” of the people of Gering. Our opinions would be lost in the cacophony of noise coming from north of the river. Not too mention the fiscal determent to our community and the … blah blah blah. Come on, folks, we all (by choice or not) live in Nebraska. Nobody gives a rat’s sittin’ spot about any of our voices. The least we can do is try to come together with a unified voice so that we can all grow together.

Of course, I live in Terrytown. Neither side of the river gives two cares about what Terrytownians (dibs — I claim credit for making that word up!!!) think.

Residents of Gering and fellow Terrytownians, let’s show the powers that be in the world of Jimmy John’s that we are not going to be subjected to their abuse. I propose that all Gering and Terrytown residents refuse to purchase anything from that despicable restaurant until the day when we can have our orders delivered to our doorsteps. All three worthless little communities making up the Tri-Cities of the panhandle of Nebraska deserve equality!!!

Stinking Hunger Strike…

I’m on a hunger strike! I have been on a hunger strike since yesterday. The last time I actually ate anything was Sunday evening, and it is currently Tuesday evening. I am approaching the 48-hour mark. I felt a little light-headed last night. Tonight, I’m feeling okay.

Why, you may ask, am I on a hunger strike? Well, I figure I’m going to do the hunger-strike thing until Nebraska quits sucking. In other words, I’m going to starve to death.

Last year, about this time, I posted about my experiences with the wonderfully craptastic County of Scotts Bluff. See, the county commissioners and the county assessor are in cahoots and regularly pull random property valuations out of their asses in order to charge more for property taxes for the abused residents of Scotts Bluff County. Last year, my taxes inexplicably went up. I filed a formal protest and appeared before the county commissioners. I intelligently stated my case and was quickly talked-down to and brushed off. I wrote a post about my experience last year.

Well, last year’s increase was like 2%. I filed my protest, appeared before the commissioners, was shot down and humiliated, and wrote a blog post about my experience. This year, the jackwads at the county decided to increase the value of my property by 6%. SIX FREAKING PERCENT! How can they keep doing this?

They can keep doing this because they are government — and government sucks! All forms of government suck, which is why I can’t understand liberals. Liberals want more government. Liberals think the government (through more taxation of those who work for what they have) should take care of those in need (those who don’t work for what they have). Screw that noise! I used to be a conservative… until along came Bush Jr. Seems to me Bush Jr. talked a good conservative game, and his tax cuts seemed like the conservative thing to do… then he created all of these billions of dollars in debt with all of these stinking bail outs. Bush Jr. was nothing more than a liberal in a Texan’s clothing.

All politicians suck. Period. There is not one person who is serving in politics who is doing it for 100% the right reasons. Every politician alive is doing it for:

Money
Power
Influence
Personal agenda
Attaching his/her name to a legacy

People will disagree, but people are idiots. There is not a politician alive who is serving for the good of all people. There is not a politician alive who truly puts the best interest of whatever he/she is representing (country, state, city, county) based on his/her actions. These jerkwads always have an agenda. These jerkwads are always looking to help either themselves or help whatever constituent provided the most kickbacks. I hate politicians. And Scotts Bluff county commissioners are politicians.

So, let’s see, what new and great things are happening around Scotts Bluff County that would justify a 6% increase in my home’s value (and, of course, the obligatory tax increase associated with that hike):

New employers with great new high-paying jobs? Hell no! Walmart may be hiring… The only people making good money are people in the medical field and trust-funders. Even teaching is considered a good paying job in the craphandle.
New amenities? Are you kidding? I suspect the newest round of tax-gouging is just to maintain the infrastructure at its current level. I guess there may be a new drug dealer in the trailer park in my neighborhood. Drug dealers = idiot drivers looking to score = a not very safe neighborhood for my kids to play. Yeah, increase the valuation of my property based on that…
Strong existing economy? I don’t think so. Gering recently had a new grocery store open, which replaces the grocery store that Walmart drove out of town years ago. I don’t know how long that new store in Gering will stay open, but if it were publicly traded, I wouldn’t buy its stock. In just the last couple of months, our local bookstore (Copperfield) has gone out of business, as has a pottery store downtown (Create Away). JC Penney recently announced they will be closing their store in our joke of a half-dead mall. I know about businesses closing. Closing businesses don’t seem to be the kind of indicator that point toward the kind of strong economy that would justify a 6% increase in a property’s value, does it?
The county figured out a way to block the wind, filter the allergens, get rid of the feedlot/sugar beet smells, or make the stinking old Germans drive faster? Of course not.

The pile of crap that falls from some county administrator’s mouth and gets printed in the local newspaper is that we aren’t being hit as hard by the housing crash as the rest of the country. We don’t have the big rises in real estate, and we don’t have the big crashes in real estate.

Really?!?

Yeah, I guess if my property value is increasing with me making no improvements to my property, it would be hard to say the market here is crashing. Stupid Nebraska.

I know, I know… I should be happy that the value of my property is increasing. A small part of me is happy. The rest of me is afraid that (if the local economy continues to sucktastically slide, and my wages remain stagnant while the cost of everything — property taxes included — continues to rise) I will find myself in the near future not able to afford my stinking house. That thought pisses me off beyond all comprehension.

So, I am not eating. I am not eating as a way to protest the suckiness that is Nebraska. I am not eating to showcase my displeasure in the idiots who run stuff around here. I figure I will probably make it about 2 to 3 weeks. And I will happily die knowing that my tombstone will read:

Here Lies Adventurer Rich.

He Died Because Nebraska Sucked…

The Life Right Out of Him!

Oooh, what’s that smell? Is that chocolate chip cookies? Damn it, I think the wife made chocolate chip cookies! She knows I’m on a hunger strike! Can she not stand behind just one of my attempts to show my displeasure at life in Nebraska?!? DAMN IT!!!

Crap…

I’m gonna go get me a cookie. Then, it’s off to McDonalds and its dollar menu… ’cause that’s what we have here for affordable fast food that allows me to STILL PAY MY FREAKING PROPERTY TAXES…

From Meth to Nikki Minaj: Low-Stress Careers in the Panhandle…

I originally started writing this blog to capture my journey through turning 40 and the pain that journey entailed. I wanted to, at least somewhat humorously, document how much turning 40 sucked. Well, I turned 40, it did suck, and now here I am at 42 and things get no better. People always say crap like, “Just give it time, things will get better,” or “At least things can’t get any worse.” Well, I have come to a realization: people lie. The only thing my future potentially holds is turning 50; I’m sure that will be a joy ride.

If you are down in the dumps or have a touch of the blues, people say ‘things will get better’ to prevent you from jumping off of a bridge or walking through the local Walmart with your hunting rifle a’blazing or something. There is no real guarantee that anything is going to get any better. In fact, things run a pretty substantial risk of getting worse. Still, you should not jump off of a bridge or take out the entire population of a Walmart (believe it or not, there may actually a few good people in there).

When I start feeling down about the suckiness that life often dishes out, I blog. It makes me feel better. It might piss some people off, but then maybe they need to start their own blogs. A small part of me has always thought that if I sit down and practice writing on a regular basis (i.e. blog), I might improve my writing skills to the level where I can actually making a living writing.

“Why would you want to make a living writing?” you may ask.

I don’t like dealing with people. Any form of conflict stresses me out to a degree that I can barely function, and you cannot deal with people and avoid conflict. What really amazes me are people who seem to thrive on conflict. You know them, the people who can take a completely calm situation and turn it upside down by inserting a touch of drama… which always leads to conflict. These people need to be locked away on their own island… hey, Total Drama Island!

I have not always been like this, but over the last several years, the degree of my anti-social thoughts and feelings has multiplied to the point that I really am pretty miserable a lot of the time. This is mostly related to time when I am actually earning a living. At home, and even in the occasional social setting, I am happy and pretty comfortable. I have tried to think of a job where I would have very little personal contact with people in the realm of the method I use to earn an income, and writing seems to be an excellent choice. There are additional choices, but none of them seem to fit quite right:

Methamphetamine Manufacturer

Oh sure, making the meth sounds like a great way to make a living.

*You can work at home.

*You make a very high (no pun intended) return on investment.

*All of the simple instructions are easily accessible online.

*The only people you would have to deal with would be your dealers.

*I’ve seen some of the people who make this stuff… you don’t have to be a rocket scientist.

*You are making a product that is in demand and makes people feel better about their miserable lives.

However, if you really look at the consequences of making meth, you find that there may be some drawbacks.

*You can burn down your home.

*Meth may make people feel better, but it has been discovered that it may not be good for them.

*Apparently, making meth is illegal.

*The only people you would have to deal with would be your dealers.

So… meth is out.

Pornography Actor

Okay, so you would have to deal with people, but I’m sure there wouldn’t be much conflict. Even if there is conflict, who cares?. Three words: female porn stars! This doesn’t sound like a bad choice…

And then reality sets in…

CPAP — Yeah... no one is going to pay to see that...

Crap! I think the wife may have an issue with me being in porn… as would God. Porn is out.

Let’s see… what are some more jobs that would either be enjoyable or have limited conflict…

Bookstore Owner/Employee

I love books and used to think working in like a Barnes & Nobles would be a blast. I mean, who in their right mind would be unhappy in a bookstore. I used to think that way, until I saw some poor information booth employee at Barnes & Nobles get chewed up one side and down the other by some jerkwad who was bent out of shape because the store didn’t have a copy of some obscure philosophy book. Jerkwad was upset that he would have to wait a couple of days for the store to get in a copy of Larry Fleitzerhinie’s Mans’ Walk on an Impartial Plain of Reason in the Twilight of the Mountains of Contradiction… or something like that. “What kind of bookstore is this,” Jerkwad yelled. Seriously… is there not a job on this planet where jerkwads are not present? So the bookstore idea is out.

Working with Children

I used to work at Discovery Zone (a Chuck E. Cheese-like place with tubes and tunnels and ball pits and video games and birthday parties etc. etc. etc.). One would think that a fun place like that would be reasonably stress free… but one would be wrong. Parents become absolute imbeciles when it comes to the happiness of their children… especially when they are paying for it. And these imbeciles love to yell at whatever employee is closest to them when their child is for one second not having the ultimate in fun (like the kid just got reprimanded for biting another kid in the butt).

“You have no right to discipline my child, you minimum-wage piece of $@#&!”

Meanwhile, the parent of the child who was bitten is screaming, “You need to keep better control of the kids in here. I should sue!”

Of course, neither of these parents say a word to each other… let’s just take it all out on the minimum-wage piece of $@#&!

So it is becoming relatively clear at this point that there is no such thing as an enjoyable job… or at least a job that is stress-free. I understand that stress is supposed to be a good thing in small amounts because it helps us make decisions and whatnot… but I’m getting too old to deal with the stress crap anymore. You know, if I had the money flowing in that I expected to be making in my “prime income-earning years”, the stress probably wouldn’t get to me as much. Sounds silly, but it’s true. If I was making six figures, I think my tolerance for all things stressful would be a little higher because I’d be able to put a sizable amount of that away for retirement and I’d have the knowledge that I would not have to deal with the crap forever. However, given my current situation, I will be dealing with some sort of crap for every single workday for the rest of my natural life.

Go ahead, say it. I know there is someone out there who is wanting to say it…

“Suck it up! Quit your whining and do what you need to do!”

“Nobody ever said life was going to be fair, so shut your mouth and get busy working!”

“People who complain like you need to be thankful they aren’t a starving child in Africa!”

“If you worked as hard as you complained, you’d be making more money!”

“Quit feeling sorry for yourself! We all gotta deal with it and you don’t hear us complaining, do you?”

Oh my… if I had a nickel for every time I was the recipient of one of these comments, I’d already be able to retire. I have never stated that I am not thankful for what I have. I just want more out of life than being a working stiff who begrudgingly works a job until the day he dies. I think it is best stated by Drake in Nikki Minaj’s song Moment 4 Life:

“I’m really tryna make it more than what it is, cuz everybody dies but not everybody lives!”

Word! … does anybody really say “word” anymore? Yeah, probably not. I’m kind of out of the loop. I am 42, after all…

Good gravy – I’m quoting a Nikki Minaj song?!? ‘Bout time to wrap this post up.

Anywho, writing is about the only job I can think of that would have the limited public contact necessary to eradicate a large portion of the work-related stress from my life. Of course, I only enjoy writing as a way to bitch. If I had to write how-to manuals or reviews of laundry soaps or something like that, writing would suck.

So, if anyone knows of a good writing gig that requires a whiny writer who loves to bitch, give me a shout out. Word!

Summer Break…

My boys have only one day of school left before embarking on their annual summer breaks. Ah… summer break… remember those? I sure do.

One of the completely crappy things about growing up (one of, I assure you, many) is the the loss of the summer break. I mean sure, kids need a break to let their minds reset, to spend some time outdoors, and to just be a kid. But seriously, do we think that adults don’t need the same kind of break? And a week of vacation here and a long weekend there just don’t stinking cut it.

I never feel refreshed and ready to tackle the monotony of the work-a-day world after a typical adult vacation. In fact, the last day or two of any break I take from work (including most weekends) is usually spent dreading the fact that I have to return to work in a day or two. Weekends consist of two parts for me:

Saturday, the day or relaxation.
Sunday, the day of dreading Monday.

As sick of I was of school by the time summer break rolled around in May, I never felt the dread in August (when school started again) that I feel after a week off from work. In fact, I always looked forward to the challenges of the coming school year.

I know that I have written of this before, but I really should have been a teacher. It’s pretty amazing how 20/20 that stinking hindsight can be, isn’t it? I like kids. Most kids respond well to me. Teaching young people skills that will help them be successful in life (… yes, skills they will need to get crappy jobs of their own 🙁 …) seems like it would be a fulfilling way to spend a day. In the craphandle of Nebraska, teaching is one of the best paying gigs around for an average schmuck like me. And… summers off!

According to wiseGEEK, only about 2% of the population in the US takes advantage of a career in teaching. I guess it probably does (or should) take a certain temperament and personality to be a successful teacher, but it seems like there would be more of us who wouldn’t want to give up our summers off. Of course, many people are probably like I was when I went for my post-high school education. I had it stuck in my head that I could make more money with a business degree than I could a teaching degree. I was an idiot. I was an idiot not only because I have not been able to make more money in the stupid business world than I could have teaching. I was an idiot thinking that making a lot of money (which I have not been able to do) is somehow more important than doing something that doesn’t make me want to gouge my brains out every day.

Marketing guru Seth Godin, in a blog post today (“Dancing on the edge of finished”), writes about the uber-busy society of today. His post struck home with me. In the glory of days past, there was a time when we could actually complete something and call it done. According to Seth, in today’s world, there really is no “done”. Seth refers to it as “the dance,” this constant go-go-go that is life today.

Seth writes:

“Facing a sea of infinity, it’s easy to despair, sure that you will never reach dry land, never have the sense of accomplishment of saying, ‘I’m done.’ ”

Oh how I agree with that! It is very discouraging to feel like each new accomplishment doesn’t really get you closer to an end goal but is only another tick-mark on a checklist that never ends.

Seth, in his always-optimistic way, follows with:

“At the same time, to be finished, done, complete–this is a bit like being dead. The silence and the feeling that maybe that’s all.”

NOOOO, Seth Godin! It is nothing like being dead! Well, not that I have accomplished a lot of goals, so I really don’t know… but it can’t be like being dead! Being dead is like being dead, and actually accomplishing a goal to the point of completion would (in my fantasies of actually making that happen) have to be one of the most satisfying things ever! Don’t spin the lack of ever finishing to be something good! It’s not! In fact, never being able to actually to say “It is done” makes life seem an awful lot like a grind. If life is nothing more than a daily grind, where is the joy? Of course, Seth has an answer to that:

“It’s a dance, not an endless grind.”

Great… a dance… and me with my two stinking left feet.

See, teachers get to finish. When the final bell sounds at the end of the school year, they are done. Whether good or bad, happy or sad, when those kids leave the school for the summer, the teacher’s job is complete. Whether the teacher can look back on the last nine or ten months of effort and be satisfied with the results is often dependent on the efforts that teacher made over the previous period of time, but it is done. And, in August (barring a near-total failure on the part of the teacher), a fresh start is guaranteed. The teacher can learn from the mistakes and victories of the past and carry what was learned forward into the next year. Each year is a goal completed. Each year has a resolution. Each year is followed by a summer break… BONUS!

In the world of endless tasks to be completed, to avoid the “grind”, I can only conclude that you have to be doing something you absolutely love in order to make the toil more resemble a “dance.” Settling for a grind and trying to make that grind somehow resemble a dance just doesn’t work — not if you want your efforts to seem like they have some sort of meaning.

Or, if for nothing more than a sense of closure on a previous period of time, maybe we all need a summer break every year…

Once Every Blue Moon Or So, Something Nice Happens Here…

Last night, the wife and I took our youngest boy and two of our nieces to see the local high school’s rendition of The Wizard of Oz. I’ve been to a couple of high school plays here locally (Beauty and the Beast and High School Musical), and they were both very enjoyable. Good acting, great singing, a good testament to local talent destined to find futures somewhere outside of the panhandle where their talents will be useful. Last night’s performance, however, was something really special.

The wiring that caused the Wicked Witch and her monkeys to fly was cool, but that wasn’t the reason this performance was so special. The pyrotechnics made me jump on more than one occasion, but they weren’t the reason the performance won’t be soon forgotten. The reason I found Scottsbluff High School’s performance of The Wizard of Oz so endearing was… they got it right!

The original movie starring Judy Garland is over 70 years old. I grew up watching that stupid old movie once a year, every year, throughout my adolescent years. It never got old. It was always exciting. And last night, I felt like those teen-aged kids up on the stage had seen that stupid movie even more times than I had. All of the kids in this play were excellent. Even the tiny munchkins, played by a bunch of little kids who were up way past their bed times, were absolutely amazing. It was a few of the leads, though, who stole my heart.

Maggie Hopp, who played Dorothy, pulled off Judy Garland’s pouty, defiant innocence with flair. She sang Somewhere Over the Rainbow to near-perfection. At times, I almost believed that the late-Garland’s spirit had possessed young Hopp. Watching her made me feel like a child again, sitting in our small living room in front of our small television, my brother, sister, mom, dad and me, wishing for Dorothy to be able to click her heels at least one more time and once again return to Kansas. If I had realized then what I know now (that Kansas is a lot like Nebraska), I would have wished for poor Dorothy to go to New York, or Los Angeles, or somewhere she and Toto could have a successful future… but I didn’t.

Carlos Santana (no, not the aged-musician who still rocks) was amazing as the Cowardly Lion. His no-holds-barred performance was hysterical. For a teenage boy to get up in front of a full auditorium and hold nothing back in his performance of the blubbering coward who slowly finds his courage… it was unforgettable in the best of ways. It takes someone with a lot of talent and self-confidence to get up on stage and play a chicken so well 🙂

Chris Brening pulled-off a convincing and very likable Scarecrow. Like Carlos, Chris didn’t seem to have an issue being a complete goofball on stage, and this character needs to be goofy…. and dance… and wobble around… without falling off of the small stage. There was more than one occasion where I thought the Scarecrow was going to fall into the orchestra pit, but he didn’t!

During the first half of the play, Aaron Aguallo’s microphone wasn’t working very well and he was hard to hear. After the intermission, Aaron’s voice brought life to the heartless Tin Woodsman. Once I could hear his voice, I had a very hard time believing that Jack Haley himself wasn’t actually up on stage instead of Aaron. This was what was so cool about this performance: the kids pulled off the characters so closely to the original casts’ rendition… yet each with just a hint of uniqueness that made them their own.

Karenna Booth was stunning as the good witch Glinda, and her singing gave me goosebumps. The only things that commonly gives me goosebumps in Nebraska are the chilly winter nights.

Emily Yanke was terrifically evil as the Wicked Witch of the West. She cackled like an old pro and seemed to relish her inhumanity. Kind of makes me wonder what this young lady does to small animals on the weekends… but her performance was superb… and that’s not a word I use much 🙂

I could go on and on… but I’m not really used to having nice things to say. Don’t get used to it! If you don’t already have tickets to tonight’s performance or the final performance on Saturday, you are probably out of luck. Both nights are sold out. However, if you know someone who has tickets and you don’t like them very much… steal them. This show is worth petty larceny.

Thanks to the cast and crew of the The Wizard of Oz. Old guys like me seldom feel young anymore, but all of you helped me feel a little younger for a couple of hours last night.

Next post: back to bitching, I promise…

The Hardest Job in the World…

What is the hardest job in the world?

Is it a rocket scientist — ensuring the trajectory of space bound thingies and other such sciencey stuff?

Is it a brain surgeon — holding all consciousness and memories (in essence, the entire “being”) of an individual between her fingers as she attempts to save a life?

Is it perhaps the President of the United States — deciding where to send our soldiers to die and who in our economy will suffer and how to make nice-nice with the rich and famous?

These are all good answers, but none are truly the hardest job in the world. The hardest job in the world recently had a vacancy, and it was recently filled.

Scotts Bluff County recently filled the hardest job in the world. Congratulation to Brenda Leisy…
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holder of the hardest job in the world. Brenda was hired by Scotts Bluff County as the county’s tourism director.

Tourism director: one who tries to get tourists to stop and spend their had earned money in our area by convincing said tourists that there is something worth stopping and spending money on here. Like I already pointed out, this is (in my opinion) the hardest job in the world.

Scotts Bluff County has little to offer. It’s kind of… what’s a nice way of putting this… boring here. There are many who disagree with me, but I’m sticking to my personal guns on this. There is nothing to do here.

“Oh, there’s a lot to do here!” scream the long-time residents who hate anyone speaking the truth about their beloved Nebraska.

“Like what?” someone may ask.

“Well… uh… you can go for a walk on the pathway by the river!” says the Nebraska-lover.

“I’ve done that before,” someone may say.

“Do it again,” says Nebraska-lover.

“Uh… why?” someone may ask.

“Maybe you’ll see a goose… or something,” says Nebraska-lover.

“I saw a goose the last time I walked the path,” someone may say.

“Well, go to the top of Scotts Bluff National Monument,” Nebrasaka-lover recommends.

“That’s fun to do about once every two or three years,” someone may say, “and I did that last summer.”

“Go fishing,” says Nebraska-lover.

“Fishing here sucks,” someone may say, “unless you like catching tiny trout and sunfish, which is all I ever catch. I suck at fishing, thus I don’t really like fishing, and can you imagine trying to get my 8-year-old son to sit still long enough to catch a stinking blue gill? Yeah, fishing isn’t for me.”

“There is good hunting,” says Nebraska-lover.

“No there’s not,” someone may say. “All of the good hunting is on private land, and landowners here would rather shoot you than look at you. You have to have some sort of backwater relationship with a landowner to access that landowner’s land, and I have no such relationships. Hunting here sucks.”

“Well,” says Nebraska-lover, a hint of doubt becoming evident in her eyes, “there’s always… uh… what about a trek in the Wildcat Hills?”

“Oh yeah, a hike through sage brush and cactus,” someone may say, “with the seasonal threat of rattlesnakes and the ever-present threat of mountain lions. Doesn’t sound like my cup of tea. Besides, you keep mentioning all of these outdoor activities, and Scotts Bluff County is notoriously bad for allergens. Spending time outside in the wind with snot running down my face and claw marks on my eyeballs from all of the scratching doesn’t sound very fun.”

“We have… uh… we have a mall,” Nebraska-lover says, as if she just remembered.

“Yeah, the mall,” someone may say. “The mall here is about, what, 1/4 empty? And it’s a small mall in the first place. Walking around the mall is good for about 15 minutes of wasting time.”

“Our downtown business areas in Scottsbluff and Gering…” Nebraska-lover tries to say.

“… suck,” someone may finish. “Parking downtown is horrible, there are very few shops that interest me or are within my price range, and very few of the downtown businesses have public restrooms, so you end up peeing in the freaking alley if you gotta go. I have an 8-year-old boy. My son now believes that it is acceptable to pee in an alley… which I’m sure is going to benefit him in his adulthood. Thanks, downtown businesses!”

“Well… uh… we have… uh…” Nebraska-lover stammers, “we have a lot of bars and liquor stores.”

“Yes,” someone may say. “Yes we do.”

“I could sure use a drink,” Nebraska-lover says.

“I’m buying,” someone may say.

There really isn’t much to do around here. You have to keep your kids uber-involved in sports and other activities to keep them away from the drugs, alcohol and sex. The teen-pregnancy rate in the area is high, as are the teen alcohol and drug usage rates. Why? Because there isn’t anything to do here. Adult alcoholism and drug use also run rampant in Scotts Bluff County. Why? Because there isn’t anything to do here… and there are many adults who are trying to numb the pain of watching their hopes, dreams, and aspirations float down the North Platte River.

I know that in the past, the county’s tourism department has stressed how important it is for “front-line” employees (employees in low-paying jobs who actually deal with potential tourists) to present a positive, excited portrayal of the community to aid tourism. This may be hard for a hung-over, pregnant teen to do while she is trying to figure out where she is going to score her next hit of meth. The only positive thing many front-line employees can think about is how in the hell they are going to get out of here, so it may be hard to convince them to speak positively about their communities. Front-line employees can’t figure out what to do with their free time, so how can they be expected to help tourists find something to do around here?

Congratulations once again to Brenda Leisy! She has the hardest job in the world, and I wish her all of the luck I can muster. She’s going to need it…

NEXT: The Panhandle’s Social Elite…

There is an organization here in the wonderful panhandle of Nebraska called NEXT. NEXT is a group of “young professionals” who have taken it upon themselves to be leaders in the community. They have made it their job to promote the panhandle as a great place to live. Good for them.

On their website, the folks at NEXT make some very clear statements as to what they are… and what they are not. For example, NEXT is: “A group of the Panhandle’s future elite leaders, not the social elite.” What a great statement… too bad it’s not true. If you visit NEXT’s website and click on the “board” tab, you will see the leaders of this “leaders’ group”. Judging from the last names of these leaders, the names of the businesses they work for, and the dates those businesses were established, I’m assuming three of the five board members have parents or grandparents who started successful businesses… and these kids are able to ride on those coattails. Can you say “trust fund”? The other two board members are pretty faces, and we all know that the pretty people have a higher likelihood of success than us normal (or, in my case, morbidly disgusting) people.

I am not saying that these people didn’t work hard to reach their current levels of success. I don’t personally know any of them (we don’t hang in the same social circles — oh wait, I don’t have a social circle…) All I’m saying is that, in my opinion, being a pretty person or having rich parents gives you quite an advantage over the rest of the population when it comes to future success.

So, the rich and the pretty… how in the hell is that not the social elite? This is life in the panhandle: have parents or grandparents who were successful — or be pretty — and you have a shot at true success. It takes money and/or looks to make it here… which is why there are so many of us who can’t really make it. The rest of us work to serve the social elite. Maybe this isn’t a panhandle problem. Maybe this is an American problem…

The rich and pretty of NEXT have made one of their goals to retain and encourage potential leaders (i.e. other rich and pretty people who either leave after 2-3 years because they think it sucks here… or don’t become involved in community leadership roles because they are too busy pushing their slaves to make them more money) to become active in the community by stressing “the great life that the Panhandle offers”. Are they referring to the same panhandle that I live in? Maybe there is another panhandle (one that deserves to be capitalized) that I’m not familiar with. Or maybe if you are part of the social elite and have the rest of the community bowing down to serve you, life can be pretty good here. Who knows?

Another of the statements made by NEXT is that they are “A group using a social platform to accomplish objectives, not a Saturday night social club.” Really? Again, looking at their website, the last few events listed were a “Mardi Gras” event in February of 2009, a “Peacocks and Potluck” event (at the zoo, I’m assuming) in May of 2009, and a “Comedy on the Rocks” event in June of 2010. Those all sound an awful lot like “Saturday night social club” events to me… but what do I know; I’m not part of the social elite.

I think I need to start my own leadership group. You know, a group for guys and gals who once thought they could find some measure of financial success but have come to realize that just ain’t going to happen. We could get together on Saturday nights once every couple of months and sit around a keg of Old Milwaukee eating chicken wings and talking about how we can’t understand why we are all still living here. We won’t be able to stay up late, however, because many of us will probably have to get up the next morning to go to work (because we will all be working at serving the social elite until the day we die). We could charge all members a cover charge to cover the cheap beer and hot wings, and whatever is left over could be donated to a local charity… I’m thinking Habitat-for-the-Non-Social-Elite may be a good choice…

*****INTERESTING TIDBIT ALERT*****

You know the saying “piss poor”? Do you know where this comes from? In the olden days, apparently tanners used urine to tan hides. If your family was poor, often the family would all pee in a collective pot to be taken and sold to the tanner. Your family was “piss poor”. Of course, if your family was super duper poor, you “wouldn’t have a pot to piss in”.

How do I know this is true? I found it on the Internet. Everything on the Internet is true, right?

I kind of wish tanners still used urine to tan hides. Not that I would want to be “piss poor”, it would just be an easy way to make a little extra cash…

*****INTERESTING TIDBIT COMPLETE****

So, until I get my own leadership group together, I guess I’ll have to make do with making fun of the existing organizations. You know what, though? NEXT is at least doing something to try to make the panhandle a better place. They even recently participated in an event that benefited Special Olympics, and I can’t dog on that. I am, however, skeptical of their motives because I believe they are mostly looking out for themselves. They could give a crap-less how the ordinary citizens of the panhandle are doing (as long as they keep flipping burgers and mowing lawns and painting houses and controlling pests and collecting garbage or any job where some peon is available to be yelled at when the elite feel like yelling). They want more rich, pretty people in the area to hang out with so they can defend themselves when the unruly, unclean masses finally rise up! But still, they are doing something. I have to give them credit for that. People who sit around and bitch like me probably drive the elite absolutely insane… hahaha… and that’s why I do what I do 🙂