I hate the days I leave the house unsure of whether I put on deodorant.
I'm pretty sure I did, somewhere between brushing my teeth and spraying on some perfume, but there is a bit of doubt in the back of my mind.
Kind of the same as did I lock the door? did I turn off the stove? did I turn off the hot iron?
Except not putting on deodorant will not get me robbed or burn the house down.
I'm pretty sure I did put on deodorant and this weird little lady I sat next to on the bus DID NOT which lead to my self-doubt. I mean, I am pretty hobo so I wouldn't put it past me, but I should really consider my environment.
A man just turned around and stared at me and I stared back for at least a minute until he looked away in defeat. Then he looked again and nodded. We either just made non-verbal plans to go on a date or he noticed that my clothes don't match.
I should really just rename this blog "Things That Happen To Me On The Bus."
I am having a serious good music drought. I feel like I have no time to listen to new music and all the old stuff is boring me.
This is indicative of a greater problem in my life in which I feel like all I do is go to work and go home. This is clearly not true, but I am feeling stressed out so all the islands of fun in between work are distant memories seconds after they end.
The exception is this week as RF is here, but last night I was pretty much the most boring person ever while hanging out with GZ. I have nothing to say.
I need 12 hours of sleep in a row. Not spread out over three days.
I cannot wait for camping. It is my oasis. If I can just make it to September 17th, I will survive.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Wherein Bry is a tennis groupie.
I am currently sitting in Washington Park, adjacent to the Rose Garden. I can smell the roses, their sweet, soft scent wafting through the air. In the distance, a perfect view of the Portland skyline serves as a nice background to this peaceful setting.
But for the screaming bitches in front of me, throwing insults with the same velocity as their tennis swings.
RF has been in town less than 24 hours and I am already court side. In this case, it is not a real match. Just RF and three bitches trying to out bitch each other.
JM and AA picked RF and I up at 1:30 and we headed to the courts at the Rose Garden. They are hitting with their friend T.
I am sitting on the grass watching, as per usual. I have been reading Mockingjay, but RF asked me to blog about him, so I've turned to my trusty Blackberry.
Last night we went to CC's for drinks, dancing, and debauchery. RF and I barely had anything to drink, despite the availability of $1 whiskey sours. More sour than whiskey. And this morning we both had headaches!
Last night we watched AA grinding on some girl. Suddenly he is straight. I'm a little worried he has gone and lost his damned mind.
RF looks really good. He has been working out a lot and looks pretty hot. I think the tennis boys at the tournament next week are going to get up in his business now that he is single.
Later we are headed to dinner, and then who knows. I go back to work tomorrow and RF leaves for the Hood to Coast race.
But for the screaming bitches in front of me, throwing insults with the same velocity as their tennis swings.
RF has been in town less than 24 hours and I am already court side. In this case, it is not a real match. Just RF and three bitches trying to out bitch each other.
JM and AA picked RF and I up at 1:30 and we headed to the courts at the Rose Garden. They are hitting with their friend T.
I am sitting on the grass watching, as per usual. I have been reading Mockingjay, but RF asked me to blog about him, so I've turned to my trusty Blackberry.
Last night we went to CC's for drinks, dancing, and debauchery. RF and I barely had anything to drink, despite the availability of $1 whiskey sours. More sour than whiskey. And this morning we both had headaches!
Last night we watched AA grinding on some girl. Suddenly he is straight. I'm a little worried he has gone and lost his damned mind.
RF looks really good. He has been working out a lot and looks pretty hot. I think the tennis boys at the tournament next week are going to get up in his business now that he is single.
Later we are headed to dinner, and then who knows. I go back to work tomorrow and RF leaves for the Hood to Coast race.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Wherein Bry continues to lead a glamorous life.
Tonight I went to Duncan's birthday party. All of his little dog friends came (Floyd, Trucker, Digsby, and Jag). First we went to the dog park in Tigard and then to Max's Brew Pub on Main Street in Tigard.
At the park, I attempted to throw a ball and it went really far! A perfect throw, until the landing when it, well, landed on someone. She was not happy that I hit her. She was probably less happy that I laughed nervously. I feel as though it is hard to tell the difference between nervous laughter, and a rude cackle, at a great distance.
At dinner, KT brought out the treat bags she made for all the dogs, complete with homemade treats made with dogs in mind. Then after dinner, she had cupcakes for the dogs and cupcakes for humans. So cute.
Then I went to Powell's again. I am almost physically unable to pass with out going in. I love it. Then home to catch up on Project Runway (one more episode left. The hat episode from last week).
I tried to explain Project Runway to GZ and she was completely uninterested. Especially when I said "Well nothing really happens. They make clothes and then whoever has the worst gets kicked off. And half of them are gay so they are bitchy and queeny."
Whatever. At least we agree on Bones.
At the park, I attempted to throw a ball and it went really far! A perfect throw, until the landing when it, well, landed on someone. She was not happy that I hit her. She was probably less happy that I laughed nervously. I feel as though it is hard to tell the difference between nervous laughter, and a rude cackle, at a great distance.
At dinner, KT brought out the treat bags she made for all the dogs, complete with homemade treats made with dogs in mind. Then after dinner, she had cupcakes for the dogs and cupcakes for humans. So cute.
Then I went to Powell's again. I am almost physically unable to pass with out going in. I love it. Then home to catch up on Project Runway (one more episode left. The hat episode from last week).
I tried to explain Project Runway to GZ and she was completely uninterested. Especially when I said "Well nothing really happens. They make clothes and then whoever has the worst gets kicked off. And half of them are gay so they are bitchy and queeny."
Whatever. At least we agree on Bones.
Wherein Bry continues to lead a glamorous life.
Tonight I went to Duncan's birthday party. All of his little dog friends came (Floyd, Trucker, Digsby, and Jag). First we went to the dog park in Tigard and then to Max's Brew Pub on Main Street in Tigard.
At the park, I attempted to throw a ball and it went really far! A perfect throw, until the landing when it, well, landed on someone. She was not happy that I hit her. She was probably less happy that I laughed nervously. I feel as though it is hard to tell the difference between nervous laughter, and a rude cackle, at a great distance.
At dinner, KT brought out the treat bags she made for all the dogs, complete with homemade treats made with dogs in mind. Then after dinner, she had cupcakes for the dogs and cupcakes for humans. So cute.
Then I went to Powell's again. I am almost physically unable to pass with out going in. I love it. Then home to catch up on Project Runway (one more episode left. The hat episode from last week).
I tried to explain Project Runway to GZ and she was completely uninterested. Especially when I said "Well nothing really happens. They make clothes and then whoever has the worst gets kicked off. And half of them are gay so they are bitchy and queeny."
Whatever. At least we agree on Bones.
At the park, I attempted to throw a ball and it went really far! A perfect throw, until the landing when it, well, landed on someone. She was not happy that I hit her. She was probably less happy that I laughed nervously. I feel as though it is hard to tell the difference between nervous laughter, and a rude cackle, at a great distance.
At dinner, KT brought out the treat bags she made for all the dogs, complete with homemade treats made with dogs in mind. Then after dinner, she had cupcakes for the dogs and cupcakes for humans. So cute.
Then I went to Powell's again. I am almost physically unable to pass with out going in. I love it. Then home to catch up on Project Runway (one more episode left. The hat episode from last week).
I tried to explain Project Runway to GZ and she was completely uninterested. Especially when I said "Well nothing really happens. They make clothes and then whoever has the worst gets kicked off. And half of them are gay so they are bitchy and queeny."
Whatever. At least we agree on Bones.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Wherein Bry crosses the street to get to the other side.
I have mostly gotten over my bell jar moment that can otherwise be known as Wednesday August 18, 2010.
My friends and family have been somewhat indulgent, with offers to beat people up. Mom said "All men are Ashleys."
I am so excited for a return to my spinster ways. I sat in my Snuggie for 3 hours! And I now have the pedal for my sewing machine which means I can start making my clothes. I will look to Romy and Michelle or possibly Dawn Wiener as muses.
I am starting a new band. It is called Walk Sign Is On. First single, "Hey Ashley, That's a Oneway."
Last night, I was downtown, innocently trying to cross the street to get a burrito from the cart near Ash Street Saloon, when here comes a firetruck racing down 3rd Ave. At the same time, some douche in a Sentra tries to turn up 3rd Ave, wrong way on a oneway, and almost hit the firetruck, which luckily was slowed to make the Burnside crossing. The car does a slam-on-
the-breaks-do-a-U-turn number to get out of the way.
I guess if you have to get in a head-on collision, a firetruck is your best bet. Though, the truck was already lit up, headed to an emergency, so the car full of Insane Clown Douche-bags would have had to wait in line.
Right before they caused this holy mess, the car full of fools was driving down Burnside blasting 90s rap (No Diggity!) and harassing all the women and bikers they passed. So staring straight at death was just a little karmic bitch-slap to sober them up.
But most importantly, the burrito was delish. A Teriyaki Steak Burrito. Seriously The Best Burrito Ever. You should all be jealous of this burrito.
My friends and family have been somewhat indulgent, with offers to beat people up. Mom said "All men are Ashleys."
I am so excited for a return to my spinster ways. I sat in my Snuggie for 3 hours! And I now have the pedal for my sewing machine which means I can start making my clothes. I will look to Romy and Michelle or possibly Dawn Wiener as muses.
I am starting a new band. It is called Walk Sign Is On. First single, "Hey Ashley, That's a Oneway."
Last night, I was downtown, innocently trying to cross the street to get a burrito from the cart near Ash Street Saloon, when here comes a firetruck racing down 3rd Ave. At the same time, some douche in a Sentra tries to turn up 3rd Ave, wrong way on a oneway, and almost hit the firetruck, which luckily was slowed to make the Burnside crossing. The car does a slam-on-
the-breaks-do-a-U-turn number to get out of the way.
I guess if you have to get in a head-on collision, a firetruck is your best bet. Though, the truck was already lit up, headed to an emergency, so the car full of Insane Clown Douche-bags would have had to wait in line.
Right before they caused this holy mess, the car full of fools was driving down Burnside blasting 90s rap (No Diggity!) and harassing all the women and bikers they passed. So staring straight at death was just a little karmic bitch-slap to sober them up.
But most importantly, the burrito was delish. A Teriyaki Steak Burrito. Seriously The Best Burrito Ever. You should all be jealous of this burrito.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Wherein Bry cried.
Today I cried. At work. It was absolutely horrible. No one actually saw me crying, but the thing about crying is that you can't hide the traces of it. It's on your face and in the sound of your voice for hours.
At first I wasn't even sure I was crying. I thought I was sniffly which is something that happens sometimes the day after I've gone out drinking (not an inappropriate amount of drinking, but a departure from my normal 1-2 drinks over an extended period of time). And then I realized I was sniffly because water is leaking out of my eyeballs.
At this point, I head to the bathroom where I hide out for a bit before getting over it and going back to work.
It is a very long and stupid story that I don't want to delve into the details of but can be summed up in these main points.
1. I am now most definitely single (not a cry-worthy occurrence because as I said, "You can't dump me! I'm dumping you"). But being told you are mean and inconsiderate is never a great thing when you already feel like an asshole because ...
2. Some other people in my life told me I'm rude and selfish.
3. I miss my family and they miss me.
4. I don't like it when people who are important to me are sad and I can't fix it.
Here are my responses.
1. I am not mean nor selfish. I was honest and blunt.
2. I'm pretty sure I always miss my family and they miss me, too.
3. Crying helped none of the above because none of it is fixed and crying just made me feel worse.
Also, I realized today that I am so busy being independent that I forget that it is actually a perfectly normal and acceptable human quality to rely on other people.
Side note: my spell checker changes Asshole to Ashley. This makes me laugh every time. Not because I know any Ashleys that are assholes, but because I'm immature.
I cry so rarely, I thought I should own up to it. And now you know how to make me cry.
Call me an Ashley, make me feel completely incompetent and stupid and then mean-girl me out of your life.
Boom. Done.
At first I wasn't even sure I was crying. I thought I was sniffly which is something that happens sometimes the day after I've gone out drinking (not an inappropriate amount of drinking, but a departure from my normal 1-2 drinks over an extended period of time). And then I realized I was sniffly because water is leaking out of my eyeballs.
At this point, I head to the bathroom where I hide out for a bit before getting over it and going back to work.
It is a very long and stupid story that I don't want to delve into the details of but can be summed up in these main points.
1. I am now most definitely single (not a cry-worthy occurrence because as I said, "You can't dump me! I'm dumping you"). But being told you are mean and inconsiderate is never a great thing when you already feel like an asshole because ...
2. Some other people in my life told me I'm rude and selfish.
3. I miss my family and they miss me.
4. I don't like it when people who are important to me are sad and I can't fix it.
Here are my responses.
1. I am not mean nor selfish. I was honest and blunt.
2. I'm pretty sure I always miss my family and they miss me, too.
3. Crying helped none of the above because none of it is fixed and crying just made me feel worse.
Also, I realized today that I am so busy being independent that I forget that it is actually a perfectly normal and acceptable human quality to rely on other people.
Side note: my spell checker changes Asshole to Ashley. This makes me laugh every time. Not because I know any Ashleys that are assholes, but because I'm immature.
I cry so rarely, I thought I should own up to it. And now you know how to make me cry.
Call me an Ashley, make me feel completely incompetent and stupid and then mean-girl me out of your life.
Boom. Done.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Wherein Bry cried.
Today I cried. At work. It was absolutely horrible. No one actually saw me crying, but the thing about crying is that you can't hide the traces of it. It's on your face and in the sound of your voice for hours.
At first I wasn't even sure I was crying. I thought I was sniffly which is something that happens sometimes the day after I've gone out drinking (not an inappropriate amount of drinking, but a departure from my normal 1-2 drinks over an extended period of time). And then I realized I was sniffly because water is leaking out of my eyeballs.
At this point, I head to the bathroom where I hide out for a bit before getting over it and going back to work.
It is a very long and stupid story that I don't want to delve into the details of but can be summed up in these main points.
1. I am now most definitely single (not a cry-worthy occurrence because as I said, "You can't dump me! I'm dumping you"). But being told you are mean and inconsiderate is never a great thing when you already feel like an asshole because ...
2. Some other people in my life told me I'm rude and selfish.
3. I miss my family and they miss me.
4. I don't like it when people who are important to me are sad and I can't fix it.
Here are my responses.
1. I am not mean nor selfish. I was honest and blunt.
2. I'm pretty sure I always miss my family and they miss me, too.
3. Crying helped none of the above because none of it is fixed and crying just made me feel worse.
Also, I realized today that I am so busy being independent that I forget that it is actually a perfectly normal and acceptable human quality to rely on other people.
Side note: my spell checker changes Asshole to Ashley. This makes me laugh every time. Not because I know any Ashleys that are assholes, but because I'm immature.
I cry so rarely, I thought I should own up to it. And now you know how to make me cry.
Call me an Ashley, make me feel completely incompetent and stupid and then mean-girl me out of your life.
Boom. Done.
At first I wasn't even sure I was crying. I thought I was sniffly which is something that happens sometimes the day after I've gone out drinking (not an inappropriate amount of drinking, but a departure from my normal 1-2 drinks over an extended period of time). And then I realized I was sniffly because water is leaking out of my eyeballs.
At this point, I head to the bathroom where I hide out for a bit before getting over it and going back to work.
It is a very long and stupid story that I don't want to delve into the details of but can be summed up in these main points.
1. I am now most definitely single (not a cry-worthy occurrence because as I said, "You can't dump me! I'm dumping you"). But being told you are mean and inconsiderate is never a great thing when you already feel like an asshole because ...
2. Some other people in my life told me I'm rude and selfish.
3. I miss my family and they miss me.
4. I don't like it when people who are important to me are sad and I can't fix it.
Here are my responses.
1. I am not mean nor selfish. I was honest and blunt.
2. I'm pretty sure I always miss my family and they miss me, too.
3. Crying helped none of the above because none of it is fixed and crying just made me feel worse.
Also, I realized today that I am so busy being independent that I forget that it is actually a perfectly normal and acceptable human quality to rely on other people.
Side note: my spell checker changes Asshole to Ashley. This makes me laugh every time. Not because I know any Ashleys that are assholes, but because I'm immature.
I cry so rarely, I thought I should own up to it. And now you know how to make me cry.
Call me an Ashley, make me feel completely incompetent and stupid and then mean-girl me out of your life.
Boom. Done.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Wherein Bry meets a Mommie Dearest.
I see a lot of jackasses in the store. A lot of people treat the employees and their children horribly. It comes with the territory. People are assholes and the service/retail industry takes the brunt of it. But yesterday, I dealt with my worst customer yet.
I was called to the front on a supervisor call regarding the price of a book. I responded to find a tall, coltish girl with frizzy brown hair who was nervously shifting back and forth. She was on a cell phone and she had a stutter.
She bought The Great Gatsby, which we've sold a lot of because it is on the local school syllabus and the high schools in the area are broke so they require their students to buy their own books.
The website listed the book at $11, in store it is $15. The girl asked me why and I explained that our website advertises online sales we do not match in store and that it says that on the site. She handed me her cell phone and asked me to talk to her mother. Then she apologized and turned away, head bent, like an abused animal. If she had a tail, it would have been between her legs.
Her mother was a real piece of work, verbally abusing me before I could explain what happened.
She was nasty, nasty, nasty. I was horrible. We were engaging in false advertising. I have horrible customer service, blah, blah, blah.
I explained the situation, was polite and respectful. She finally said to just send her daughter home and she would deal with it. As though her daughter was now at fault.
I gave the girl the phone back, she apologized a few more times and then limped out of the store.
The yelling and complaining was nothing new. But this poor girl was an utter mess. I can imagine she is verbally abused on a daily basis.
KS told me later that when she found out how much the book actually was, the girl said she did not want a receipt because she didn't want to take the receipt home.
On a related note, I love it when customers create an utter scene and scream and yell and then tell you your customer service skills are poor.
First, good customer service begins and ends with being polite and respectful, regardless of the end result. Second, I refuse to give you what you want just because you are yelling at me.
Yes, I am just a bookseller. But I am a human and you can suck it if you think I will let you treat me differently.
I was called to the front on a supervisor call regarding the price of a book. I responded to find a tall, coltish girl with frizzy brown hair who was nervously shifting back and forth. She was on a cell phone and she had a stutter.
She bought The Great Gatsby, which we've sold a lot of because it is on the local school syllabus and the high schools in the area are broke so they require their students to buy their own books.
The website listed the book at $11, in store it is $15. The girl asked me why and I explained that our website advertises online sales we do not match in store and that it says that on the site. She handed me her cell phone and asked me to talk to her mother. Then she apologized and turned away, head bent, like an abused animal. If she had a tail, it would have been between her legs.
Her mother was a real piece of work, verbally abusing me before I could explain what happened.
She was nasty, nasty, nasty. I was horrible. We were engaging in false advertising. I have horrible customer service, blah, blah, blah.
I explained the situation, was polite and respectful. She finally said to just send her daughter home and she would deal with it. As though her daughter was now at fault.
I gave the girl the phone back, she apologized a few more times and then limped out of the store.
The yelling and complaining was nothing new. But this poor girl was an utter mess. I can imagine she is verbally abused on a daily basis.
KS told me later that when she found out how much the book actually was, the girl said she did not want a receipt because she didn't want to take the receipt home.
On a related note, I love it when customers create an utter scene and scream and yell and then tell you your customer service skills are poor.
First, good customer service begins and ends with being polite and respectful, regardless of the end result. Second, I refuse to give you what you want just because you are yelling at me.
Yes, I am just a bookseller. But I am a human and you can suck it if you think I will let you treat me differently.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Wherein Bry drinks a slurpy.
JG: What are you doing?
Me: Drinking a slurpy.
JG: What flavor?
Me: Cherry
JG: Where are you?
Me: I'm not really sure. I mean, 7-11, but I don't know where we are.
JG: Who are you with?
Me: Friends. Hey, Question. I'm about to eat a hot dog with this slurpy. What do you think the nutritional value is?
JG: Not good.
Me: Is that your professional opinion? Is that what you would tell a patient?
JG: Well no. I don't know the exact nutritional value. But high in fat and preservatives equals bad.
Me: Hmmm. Well what if it is really, really yummy. Does the joy you get in eating it lower the poor nutritional value?
JG: No. If its bad for you, its bad for you.
Me: But if it makes me happy, does the emotional benefit outweigh the negative?
JG: Emotional eating is detrimental.
Me: Right, but its a hot summer night, I'm with friends. We are having fun. I'm in a good mood. I'm happy. This food is delicious. I'm not sitting in a dark room eating my feelings here.
JG: Hon, its science. If its bad for you, its bad.
Me: But don't studies show that happy people tend to be more active and therefore less likely to see the detriments of poor diet because of their emotional well-being?
JG: [sigh]
Me: What?
JG: Did you call me to talk about the philosophy of 7-11 junk food?
Me: I didn't call you. You called me.
JG: [click. dial tone.]
Text message from JG:
Going to bed. Will call when not irritated.
Text message to JG: I just took my shirt off.
[Phone rings, call from JG]
Text message to JG:
Just kidding.
Me: Drinking a slurpy.
JG: What flavor?
Me: Cherry
JG: Where are you?
Me: I'm not really sure. I mean, 7-11, but I don't know where we are.
JG: Who are you with?
Me: Friends. Hey, Question. I'm about to eat a hot dog with this slurpy. What do you think the nutritional value is?
JG: Not good.
Me: Is that your professional opinion? Is that what you would tell a patient?
JG: Well no. I don't know the exact nutritional value. But high in fat and preservatives equals bad.
Me: Hmmm. Well what if it is really, really yummy. Does the joy you get in eating it lower the poor nutritional value?
JG: No. If its bad for you, its bad for you.
Me: But if it makes me happy, does the emotional benefit outweigh the negative?
JG: Emotional eating is detrimental.
Me: Right, but its a hot summer night, I'm with friends. We are having fun. I'm in a good mood. I'm happy. This food is delicious. I'm not sitting in a dark room eating my feelings here.
JG: Hon, its science. If its bad for you, its bad.
Me: But don't studies show that happy people tend to be more active and therefore less likely to see the detriments of poor diet because of their emotional well-being?
JG: [sigh]
Me: What?
JG: Did you call me to talk about the philosophy of 7-11 junk food?
Me: I didn't call you. You called me.
JG: [click. dial tone.]
Text message from JG:
Going to bed. Will call when not irritated.
Text message to JG: I just took my shirt off.
[Phone rings, call from JG]
Text message to JG:
Just kidding.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Wherein Bry does not operate on Hoeg time.
Hoegs take pride in being Hoegs much like a nation takes pride in its identity. Correction, Hoeg men take pride in being Hoegs to the point of a World Cup soccer riot. Hoeg women say "Eh" and shrug their shoulders.
Part of being a Hoeg is a phenomenon called "Hoeg Time" which should not be confused with Stoner Time, but is pretty much the same thing.
I do not operate on Hoeg time. In fact, Hoeg Time causes my blood to boil.
Here is a prime example of Hoeg Time.
JH texted me early on a Saturday morning to see if I wanted to float the river. MaH would hurry over and pick me up. We would get gas and pick up TH and TH's boat before getting back to meet everyone and then go float.
MaH picked me up. We get gas and buy three more tubes as we have also forced my cousins CH, PH, and RH to accompany us on this journey. We see TH at the Three Mile Store and say, Hey! we were coming to get you. He goes home and when we arrive 20 minutes later, he is out in the yard shooting the breeze with the neighbor. Then he helps his neighbor move some sprinklers. Then he pours himself a cocktail (this is what he calls the Pepsi he drinks constantly). Then he sits down and smokes. Then he spends about 10 minutes trying to decide what to bring to float (here is a hint: shorts, river shoes, maybe a hat, and get in the damn truck).
By this time, MaH (who is a new member of the family and also not on Hoeg Time) and I are exchanging What the Hell? glances.
We manage to make it out of there in just under an hour, a minor miracle.
Then we get back to JH and MaH's and discover the children messing around in the yard in dresses and not at all ready. The tubes are flat and no one is ready to go. MaH was gone for two hours and nothing got done. Then we stand around while they all smoke and drink soda.
Finally, I start being Bry the Bossy Dictator and make everyone get their shit together and we manage to leave the house almost 2 hours later.
In real person time, one might want to be on the river before 3pm so that one is not still floating the river 4 hours later when the weather is much cooler. When its not approaching dusk, and when you don't have to wait by the side of the road while someone drives back to the float start point to get the cars.
A person can accomplish a goal like this by managing their time, hurrying, and being productive.
I would like to say this is an isolated incident, but this is pretty normal for my family.
I do not like this Sam I Am. I do not like Green Eggs and Ham.
I try to be on time and when I know I can't predict my schedule, or the bus, I either make arrangements for that and/or explain this to others who may be affected.
"I get off at 7 and will meet you at 8. There is a chance I could be a few minutes late."
I've developed the ability to be ready for all kinds of environments and activities within minutes. I'm fairly flexible and do like to be spontaneous, but when there is a goal in mind, I like to "Get shit done."
I am very independent. I don't depend on anyone and have no defendants that I need to consider. There is no "Let me tell so and so the plan." I am so and so.
I like decisions.
I like plan and action.
I like completing tasks.
I like structure.
I like getting shit done.
This seems to be in direct conflict with "being a Hoeg."
I like being a Hoeg.
Go figure.
Part of being a Hoeg is a phenomenon called "Hoeg Time" which should not be confused with Stoner Time, but is pretty much the same thing.
I do not operate on Hoeg time. In fact, Hoeg Time causes my blood to boil.
Here is a prime example of Hoeg Time.
JH texted me early on a Saturday morning to see if I wanted to float the river. MaH would hurry over and pick me up. We would get gas and pick up TH and TH's boat before getting back to meet everyone and then go float.
MaH picked me up. We get gas and buy three more tubes as we have also forced my cousins CH, PH, and RH to accompany us on this journey. We see TH at the Three Mile Store and say, Hey! we were coming to get you. He goes home and when we arrive 20 minutes later, he is out in the yard shooting the breeze with the neighbor. Then he helps his neighbor move some sprinklers. Then he pours himself a cocktail (this is what he calls the Pepsi he drinks constantly). Then he sits down and smokes. Then he spends about 10 minutes trying to decide what to bring to float (here is a hint: shorts, river shoes, maybe a hat, and get in the damn truck).
By this time, MaH (who is a new member of the family and also not on Hoeg Time) and I are exchanging What the Hell? glances.
We manage to make it out of there in just under an hour, a minor miracle.
Then we get back to JH and MaH's and discover the children messing around in the yard in dresses and not at all ready. The tubes are flat and no one is ready to go. MaH was gone for two hours and nothing got done. Then we stand around while they all smoke and drink soda.
Finally, I start being Bry the Bossy Dictator and make everyone get their shit together and we manage to leave the house almost 2 hours later.
In real person time, one might want to be on the river before 3pm so that one is not still floating the river 4 hours later when the weather is much cooler. When its not approaching dusk, and when you don't have to wait by the side of the road while someone drives back to the float start point to get the cars.
A person can accomplish a goal like this by managing their time, hurrying, and being productive.
I would like to say this is an isolated incident, but this is pretty normal for my family.
I do not like this Sam I Am. I do not like Green Eggs and Ham.
I try to be on time and when I know I can't predict my schedule, or the bus, I either make arrangements for that and/or explain this to others who may be affected.
"I get off at 7 and will meet you at 8. There is a chance I could be a few minutes late."
I've developed the ability to be ready for all kinds of environments and activities within minutes. I'm fairly flexible and do like to be spontaneous, but when there is a goal in mind, I like to "Get shit done."
I am very independent. I don't depend on anyone and have no defendants that I need to consider. There is no "Let me tell so and so the plan." I am so and so.
I like decisions.
I like plan and action.
I like completing tasks.
I like structure.
I like getting shit done.
This seems to be in direct conflict with "being a Hoeg."
I like being a Hoeg.
Go figure.
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