March 2008

here…

Unfortunately all I had today was candy.

Have you ever made cotton candy? I love cotton candy. I always wanted to know how to make the stuff and I got to find out how the last two days.

I’ve seen much more complicated setups but the one I used yesterday and this afternoon was pretty simple. Basically it’s just a motor with a small bowl with holes in it sitting on top of an axle. Around that goes a big old metal pan to hold the candy. Cotton candy is just plain old sugar with some flavor added, pretty much. You let the bowl heat up (there’s a little heater in there) and then turn the wheel on and it starts spinning and out comes the spun sugar which you put your little stick in and twirl it around while going around the bowl in a direction opposite the spinning of the bowl holding the sugar. It’s actually pretty neat. No cover or anything but I suppose if you are inside or in a stall at some freakshow that wouldn’t be an issue.

Hangin’ round downtown by myself
And I had so much time
To sit and think
about myself
And then there she was
Like double cherry pie
Yeah there she was
Like disco superfly
I smell sex and
candy here
Who’s that lounging
in my chair
Who’s that casting
devious stares
In my direction
Mama this surely
is a dream Hangin’ ’round downtown by myself
And I had too
much caffeine
And I was thinkin’
’bout myself
And then there she was
In platform double suede
Yeah there she was
Like disco lemonade
I smell sex and
candy here
Who’s that lounging
in my chair
Who’s that casting
devious stares
In my direction
Mama this surely
is a dream
Mama this surely
is a dream
Yeah mama this must
be my dream

Try using it in a field with the wind blowing. Yesterday wasn’t a real huge day but today we had a great turnout.

I suppose I should tell you what we were doing and how I got roped into being the cotton candy man.

We had community easter egg hunts at two of our restaurants this weekend. One in Bremen yesterday and the other in Villa Rica this afternoon. Nothing fancy, just the egg hunt, plenty of sugary sweets and cake and cookies along with popcorn and one of those air jump things. The kids loved it. We had them at four p.m. so yesterday wasn’t a huge turnout. Four is sort of early for a Friday afternoon what with traffic and school and whatnot but today… today was an entirely different beast. People started arriving at our store 30 minutes before it was to start and we ended up with at least 200-300 people. It’s a good fucking thing I like my job. I made fucking cotton candy for an hour and a half solid before I got a break and then they all just sort of melted away. I had so many ‘cobwebs’ hanging off my arms and back and hair I asked the lady making popcorn next to me to get me a butcher knife so I could be ‘cotton candy man’. I’ll probably have nightmares about it tonight.

So here I sit eating my healthy dinner of McDonald’s, sun burnt and covered with a pink sugary substance.

At least I didn’t have to dress up as the easter bunny!

I never want to see any more fucking cotton candy as long as I live.

Shower and a nap. In that order.

While you aren’t doing anything of import why don’t you do send your condolences to Fat Hairy Bastard, whose father has passed away. Thanks to Holder for letting me know.

So I get this call about 7:30 this morning from one of my managers. Apparently Meredith from the Today show and film crew were at one of my restaurants. Of course the only though going through my mind at that time was ‘fuck!’

Apparently they were wanting to interview a truck driver or something. I don’t even know what it was about. Obviously since I leave the house by 6:30 every day I don’t watch a hell of a lot of daytime TV. I’ve looked on the web site but haven’t found anything there yet.

Anyhow, apparently they showed up around seven this morning or so and of course does my manager call me or my boss or even his boss? Fuck no, she calls the senior vice president. TWICE. Told him she was sorry for calling him but figured she would cut through the red tape and new that before anyone could shoot inside the store she had to get permission from the communications department.

That’s all fine and dandy except that he wouldn’t know who to call. As soon as I found out about it I called the person at the corporate office that had to OK it, and he did. Real simple and it could have happened when they showed up if the damned girl had just called me like she was supposed to. Now I have to put up with shit from above with my SVP wanting to know why the managers are calling him. It’s about par for the course with this manager though, she’s been doing stuff like that to her old district manager for the last five years. Her hearts in the right place but she’s just not willing to do the things we pay her to do, the way we pay her to do them.

Let me tell you how it will be
There’s one for you, nineteen for me
’cause i’m the taxman, yeah, i’m the taxman
Should five per cent appear too small
Be thankful i don’t take it all
’cause i’m the taxman, yeah i’m the taxman
If you drive a car, i’ll tax the street,
If you try to sit, i’ll tax your seat.
If you get too cold i’ll tax the heat,
If you take a walk, i’ll tax your feet.
Don’t ask me what i want it for
If you don’t want to pay some more
’cause i’m the taxman, yeah, i’m the taxman
Now my advice for those who die
Declare the pennies on your eyes
’cause i’m the taxman, yeah, i’m the taxman
And you’re working for no one but me

Five percent, yeah right.

The Beatles had it right though.

I mentioned last night that the wife and girls went and had supper at church with some of our friends. They had a pretty good time. I ended up falling asleep on the couch while they were gone and it was pretty late when I woke back up and started writing more.

The daughter of our friend rides horses. She’s been doing it for a few years now and I guess she really enjoys it. Luckily that’s one of the things my daughter hasn’t asked that she be allowed to do as it is pretty expensive and while I spoil my children that just isn’t something that I want to deal with. Horses, stabling, equestrian clothing, you name it, it’s a huge expense.

I am rather glad that my oldest daughter just likes sports, art and singing. While it can be pretty time-consuming it’s nothing we can’t handle.

I hate it when there is something I want to post about but it takes me a few minutes to finish what I am currently working on and by then I forget what little tidbit of information I want to share.

fuck.

Ah, yes. Finally it comes to me.

I went to the gym today.

For those of you not in the know, I am the king of sloth. I am lucky in that I have an extremely fast metabolism and until my mid-thirties (and a desk job) I stayed at an average weight of 140 pounds. Hell, when the wife and I met I weight 128 and wore a size 28. I couldn’t get a 28 past my fucking knees now. For 28 years I’ve smoked two to three packs a day and until i married I survived off of Dr Pepper and Ding Dongs. I’m still pretty partial to Dr Pepper. I eat all kinds of nasty bad for you crap that is oh so good, one of the reasons I have to take Vytorin for my cholesterol now. I can sit and work on my computer for 20 hours straight.

So I am trying to quit smoking. I am down to anywhere from 1 to 15 smokes a day. Some days are better than others. I do want to quit but I can’t seem to get over the hump where I can just say ‘goddammit I am a non-smoker’ and just not pick one up. As alcoholics will tell you, one is too many and a thousand never enough. How fucking true.

The problem with quitting smoking is that I am currently 175 pounds and I am going to look like the fucking Goodyear blimp and I am already out of shape enough to where my fat little self has to wobble around the fucking restaurant. Nobody likes to have a fat guy cooking for them, all sweating bullets into their food. yum. How appetizing.

So I’m going to try working out at the gym.

The wife’s been doing it quite successfully, but she’s much more hard-headed than i am and once she’s decided on something not a fucking thing in the world is going to stop it from happening, right or wrong. I am much less decisive about stuff.

There’s a gym right behind one of my stores that’s open 24/7 and is only $30 a month. Not too bad. I would check out the one the wife uses, as it would be cheaper to do the family deal, but I am only in that area once or twice a week and it’s not terribly convenient for me. The plain old facts are that if it’s too fucking hard I’m not going to do it. The one behind my store (100 yards away) is also in the town we live in and one the way home from ALL of my stores. I stand a much better chance of actually stopping there. Not to mention the chick with the really nice ass that walked in right before I did…

No, really.
Whenever I am in that state where I just can’t function and just need a good laugh, there are a couple of sites I can go to that just cheer me up long enough to stumble back to bed. Mr Fab’s Neighborhood is one of those and right now he’s having a cleavage contest you should go check out.
19 bloggers have pictures posted of their tits, you have to match each blogger to the photo for a chance at $50. Sweet deal. Look at boobs, get paid. That’s the kind of job I really need. I keep telling my waitresses the same thing and for some reason they started jacking their jaws about sexual harassment. All that legal mumbo jumbo just takes the fun out of all kinds of shit.
Anyway, I may go over tomorrow and make several uneducated guesses. I do know that (or at least think) that V is Mr Fab himself. Not that I have ever seen Mr Fab’s tits or anything, mind you. At least not in public. There was that time though…
We are the perverts in your neighborhood
in your neighborhood
in your neighborhooood
we are the perverts in your neighborhood
blah blah blah I can’t remember the rest…
fuck it.