Now I'm off to get my bowl on. I cashed in my piggy bank today... $90 in quarters! Holla! So of course, I'm pretending I live the high life, and going to 99 cent bowling night.
Hasta luego!
Welcome, welcome. So this is my very first blog for iGalapagagoo, and interestingly enough, my very first blog ever for anything anywhere. I'm quite sure that it will take me a little while to get used to this blogging stuff, and I'm not quite sure what you'll find here, but I'm guessing you can expect random stories of my daily wanderings, perhaps some of my writings, complaints, pictures and miscellaneous other junk. I'll start off by telling you that I just found a totally awesome channel on Directv. I came home this morning with coffee and a breakfast sandwich in hand, planning to clean my room and do some chores. I settled down on the couch, figuring I'd treat myself to a terrible wedding show on WEtv or Style since no one is home to judge me, but the most interesting thing on the tele (pronounced tell-ee... I'm bloody British) was a documentary on Mondrian (the painter, fool). The show was surprisingly awesome, with interviews of art historians who traced the guy's life and discussed the inspirations for some of his paintings. Tonight they're showing a piece on Cindy Sherman (the photographer, fool) as part of their "Framed!" series, and I will probably not watch it because I'm bad at remembering to watch TV, but it does look pretty interesting. The channel is called "Ovation TV" and is dedicated to creativity in all media. You can check them out online, or if you're a sucker like me and you have Directv (I made a rhyme!), it's channel 274. Just watch a few minutes of it, you uncultured son of a gun.
A few days ago I was talking to some friends about traffic. We all live in a tiny community that has one road in and out of it. Often times the road will get backed up with non-residents tryingn to outsmart one another and circumvent some freeway traffic. They exit the freeway just south of our exit, come up a backroad, and then cram our road up with traffic to get back on the freeway, having successfully exchanged 30 minutes and 1 mile of freeway traffic for 30 minutes and 1 mile of side street traffic. These folks think they're clever. One of the girls in the car had dated a guy who drove a huge lifted truck and she said that when he was stuck in these lines, he would often get off the road and drive on the dirt shoulder to pass all of these freeway genuises. He wasn't getting on the freeway, so he figured it was no biggie. But let me tell you. It is a biggie, because after you pass everyone on the dirt, you have to merge BACK into the long line, making it harder for everyone else who waited honestly in line to get where they're going. This is a pet peeve of mine. I hate this sense of entitlement people give themselves. You're just like everyone else. Wait in line, and don't be a dick. It's not that hard.
So, yesterday I went to Disneyland with some friends for our darling Brent's 23 birthday. We had a long but fulfilling day of ride-riding, line-standing, and insulting one another-ing. The park closed and it was time to go home. We stood in line to catch a tram, and if you've ever been to Disneyland, you know this is the equivalent of the worst thing in the entire world. There is NOTHING happiest place on earth-y about those damn lines, unless you love the sound of tired, screaming and crying children, and the feeling of pushy, disgruntled parents jamming you in the back of the leg repeatedly with strollers. We had a first-timer with us, my roommate Xoch, and we led her towards the end of the tram queues because that's generally the best place to get on. Yesterday, however, was an exception. The first tram was full by the time we got in line, and we were about halfway in the pack by the time the second arrived about fifteen minutes later. It took a bit for the second tram to get on its way, partly because the tram folks kept yelling at people to get behind some yellow line so the tram could depart. One man stood solidly and politely, hands crossed in front of him, just ahead of the yellow line, and it was clear that he simply did not understand the things that were being yelled at him. Finally an employee came by and shoo'ed the man. He understood the universal sweeping hand gesture for "step back" and complied. The third tram finally arrived, and we were at the front of the line, ready to go. We hurried into a middle row, but I felt an enormous amount of pressure and pushing from behind us as we approached our seats. I turned to the side to see a stampede of renegade high school kids pushing through the crowd and jumping on the tram. One particularly large fellow sat next to my boyfriend and started shoving him over with his hips in an attempt to clear space for some braces-faced girl pal of his who still couldn't fit. She jumped on the lap of one of her peers, despite the voice on the intercom yelling, "No lap sitting! If you don't fit, wait for the next tram! Excuse me, no lap sitting, please!" These kids were out of control, and my already frazzled nerves were spent. My boyfriend tapped me on the shoulder and pointed to the yellow line where the quiet man still stood with his family, his hands crossed politely across his body. These bratty, disrespectful kids had pushed forward from the back of the line and fought their way onto the tram in front of this good, honest man. I was livid. I started making loud remarks about the rudeness, the lack of respect, but these kids weren't paying any attention. What bothered me the most was that their "leader" was there, a man about my age (early to mid twenties) named Mr. Nunez, and Mr. Nunez condoned this type of behavior. What sort of mentor would permit this? I was disgusted. "MY kids," I always say in these situations with reference to my hypothetical kids of the future, "would NEVER get away with behaving like this in public. They'd never DARE," and visions spring through my head of me assuming the role of the disciplinarian, wooden spoon in hand. These kids were in some sort of a choir and felt as if they were entitled to something because they could harmonize and because they fundraised. I wanted to get off and give the man and his family our bench, but Disneyland won't let you exit the tram on the driver's left hand side, and there was no way we were getting past Tubby and Metal-Mouth, so it didn't work.
