Spring! It’s Hobo time in Reno

ittle Nugget Reno

the famous (and infamous)Little Nugget in Reno. NOTE: guy in picture NOT a hobo

Not sure if you’ve noticed but the increase in hobos? At least here in Reno . It’s Spring-time!

Sadly not trampoline-spring-like but season-Spring-like.

The sewer grates are no longer frozen closed and the parking garages have already had cars broken into. Not to steal a stereo. To piss in. Maybe take a nap as well. Hopefully the latter first. At least when I lived in Brooklyn they just stole your stereo and broke your window. Which is why only a cretin has a car in New York City.

Please pay attention to the examples of Springtime for Hobos and Germany as  there will not be a test later. These are the finest in Reno Hobo quotes of the last few days.

1.” Can I mow your lawn? If it gets any longer it’s very bad for the yard ” Lawn? Are you fucking kidding me? Big-ass Weed patch is a kind description. Then noted that the hobo has no lawn mower or shears. Pretty sure this guy was the ACTUAL Green River killer. Told him that the herd of hobo-eating goats would be here within 24 hours.

2. “You do realize that your house number has to painted on your curb to confirm to law? I’m willing to splash water color numbers using paint from my filthy, inbred, homeless F student’s paint set using this stolen stencil from the Dollar Store . For $5.00.”. Almost fell for this one.
Too bad for this guy; was going to trade him a can of Sterno and a piece of white bread but I’d already used those items to trade for a car wash by another hobo. You should have seen him. Hauling buckets of water from the back yard.Told him the hose was broken and the only water was around back of the house,then through the mud, and out on to the street. Heh. There are actually three spigots along the front of the house. They’re hidden by the weeds that I refused to pay Hobo Number One to cut down.

3.” KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!” There’s a sign on the door (placed Prominently) that says Please Ring Bell. If you are that illiterate yet are still able to find Thunderbird and a shopping cart  to perambulate along the boulevard you are a hobo. And I’m not getting off of my beautiful little ass to answer the door for stupid people. This includes family. Hell, hope it wasn’t Zombie Ed McMahon with that 10 Million dollar check. Hmmmm.

4.  The pathetic alkies in front of the ‘Little Nugget’ downtown. Home of the  famous Awful Awful burger and BEST burger in town. Normally there are a group of hobos collected here, only because the Little Nugget (yes there is a big Nugget but that’s another blog) can’t afford the outside security available ta Harrah’s, The El Dorado, Circus Circus  or any other of the more upscale casinos in town. Actually the Little Nugget Hobos are off about 10 feet from the front door of the Casino.
I give these hobos my left-over burger and fries. Trust me, these are the  high-end Hobos. Well-fed. Usually have a little booze, a kind word (as opposed to the usual grunt or attempted wolf-whistle; difficult with 7 teeth). Speaking of which I’ve noticed a higher ratio of teeth-to-Hobo on these guys.
Have a  good friend that gave them $5.00 one time; to split between them for some booze. Have no idea how many were killed that night in the melee.
No not really. There was no fight. Above mentioned friend TK asked which among the group was their leader. After some head lice scratching, beard fumbling, apparent concentration one of the men stood tall and announced ‘I’m the leader.’  TK handed the Hobo the fiver and told him to get a bottle to split amongst he and his friends. A cheer went up and we made a lot of Hobos very happy that night.
That man, leader of the Little Nugget pack, truly is…..King of the Hobos.

So one day, if you’re in Reno looking for a dive to play slots at, the best burger for a 100 miles and good strong cheap drinks remember me. No really. At this rate I’ll be there (outside) with my melodica, flute and a hat to collect tips.

Don’t feel sorry for me. Just save some fries and half of your burger; easy to do. An Awful-Awful can feed two easily.
Really, anything for a half of an Awful-Awful.
Especially after 2: 00 a.m.

And maybe, just maybe, someday I’ll be Queen of  The Hobos.

Jew-Child Guilt Wins Again

Guilt!
It’s what for breakfast lunch and dinner.
Eat! Eat! why don’t you call? What they don’t have telephones in California?

You know I was positive I’d get out of the whole college registration day hell and 5 hour drive (each way) to San Fransisco.  Not to mention the cost of a hotel, parking and (okay this is a plus) tasty food in The City. Just for registration, which she’d cunningly managed to miss all three times it was offered in southern California.

My absolute certainty was crushed by my delightful brilliant daughter today. How could I even doubt the power of organic Hebrew guilt? Foolish mother.

Original Plan (in my dreams apparently): Lovely brilliant daughter would arrive here in Reno about a week before starting at San Fran State. We’d go shopping and get her sheets, towels, a toaster, hot pot and all of the college dorm necessities.

Then (in this increasingly idiotic dream world) I would drop her and all of her crap at some front gate, give her a kiss, some cash, cry a helluva lot, and drive back to Reno in tears. Then I’d go see her, when she actually wanted me to, at undetermined intervals. It would be worth the drive to see her even if it were every 2 weeks.
I miss her a lot when she’s  gone.

Not so much when she’s home; she and her friends drinking all of the beer and me (the cool parent) lying to the other parents about exactly what their precious snowflakes were up to. Of course I DID force her to call in every hour to check on the hellions. Just to humiliate her in my own parental way.

No! We’re following a John Hughes movie script. Which was outlined to me this afternoon in a phone call.

The Demon Seed (see lovely brilliant daughter above) will arrive, with a year’s worth of crap, in Reno. Four days later I’ll drive her in SFSU for registration…which I will attend with her.
This was her First Guilt punch, for which she was awarded max points. After all, what kind of parent wouldn’t do this? (ummm mine?)

A week later I will drive her and her buttload of school necessities back to school (Where is Rodney Dangerfield when you need him? You back there? Shut up. I know he’s dead).

We’ll unload above mentioned 4 cords worth of dorm room filler, I’ll meet her room-mate. With my luck the room-mate’s uptight right Wing born-Again Neo-Fascist Overly Friendly parents will want to go for coffee. When all of us really need a stiff fucking drink at this point. My daughter to me today: ‘Mom! You wouldn’t leave me there and not want to meet my room-mate? What kind of parent would do that?!’ -mine-.
I replied that her roomie should be the one to worry. After all, who stashed a machete under her bed in Junior High School?
Her answer: Mom that was a long time ago.

This was Guilt Punch Number Two. A Knock-out for the Demon seed. Mom on the floor reeling with confusion.
How the hell did this happen?! My dreams. My fantastic dreams all crushed by a goth (I am NOT a goth mom), 4.0, self-aware, nutcase of a child who has spent her life attempting to prove her self-reliance.

I blame myself for two reasons:

1. Allowing her to watch John Hughes movies as a child
2. The Amazing Power of the Guilt inherent in all Jewish Children. Where do they get it?
Dear Yahweh where!

~Miss R

Politics in America: a view presented by Libby


So I’ve been watching the hellish/physical overthrow in Egypt. As well as the moments of bravery and hopefulness.

Especially since I once said that a political overthrow like this would never happen in the US but maybe it should. Am known as ‘Libby’ by all of my boyfriend’s friends. Note: My first name does not begin with an ‘L.’

Yep I’m tired of it. Tired of the verbal abuse and trying to make a cogent point in conversations. It’s always a battle of cherry-picked facts…. taken from some talking head that makes a billion dollars or a delusional mentally ill personality who glories in attention. Sometimes you can combine the two!

Saw a great blog today that gave some direct and insightful points about being a ‘liberal’ i.e. Dem as opposed to ‘conservative’ i.e. Repub.

Face it America: No matter how pissed we get about the abuse and defacing of the Constitution no one will actually begin a physical rebellion. Doesn’t matter who is president either. Yep, let’s keep that Patriot Act going folks.
The People will be voted down by the same government that they have elected:  Un-Natural Single Parent Families, Goddmaned Greens, Those Homosexuals, Lazy-Ass Disability recipients, and the Stupid Welfare Unemployed because the economy is in the tank.
Yes there ARE swine that reproduce and expect government help. Don’t get me wrong. They are in the minority.
And we should use them as a food source.

I have one child and have made up to six figures (gross) in the past and paid the taxes. With NO loopholes or money knocked off. Because I didn’t make enough to take advantage of them, according to Reagan and Bush and their work to fix the tax system.
Just a small business. I paid 30% taxes off my the gross. When Clinton was president I made enough to buy my first house. These days, am below the poverty level of the government standard. And oh yeah: After a
successful run Bush economics forced me to close after 10 great and profitable years.

Despite the fact that the Constitution was instituted to make changes or correct wrongs the Repubs are ignoring that. Let’s go backwards.You know, so our grandparents can keep eating Alpo.
Apparently Roosevelt is now a socialist bastard. As opposed to the president who pulled us out of the Great Depression. Yep Sucks to live in Norway, Denmark or Sweden. Hmmmm I don’t hear any of those so-called Socialist countries yelling Help Help I’m being repressed!

Is it me or do the rabid conservatives (particularly teabaggers) JUMP on anything that they feel is a negative about the Dems or progressives?

Here’s a bit from a guy who used to be a rabid Con then switched to Dem

    Let me quote from his blog today: 

    “Then, in June of 2009, I read a Media Matters post about Michael “I’m ashamed to be Jewish” Savage, nee Michael Alan Weiner.  The day before, Mr. Weiner stated that “The white Christian heterosexual married male is the epitome of everything right with America” Oddly enough, I was disgusted by this.  And yet, Mark actually defended this piece of filth.  I believe his words were “What did he say that was wrong or untrue?”

    My mouth was literally hanging open that someone I was friends with could not immediately denounce this as one of the most offensive things a person could say.  I confronted him, with a great deal of hostility, about the underlying premise of the statement.  If the white Christian heterosexual married male is the epitome of everything”right with America then anything not fitting that description was automatically lesser.  With me being an atheist of Puerto Rican and Jewish descent, I asked him, did he think he was better than me?  And how, exactly, was he better?  He was instantly offended and avoided answering the question.  When pressed on the point he became hostile and abandoned the thread.’

    Wish that I could be as articulate as he is on the subject.

    I Get it.
    Moved to Northern Northern NORTHERN Michigan with PsychoFuck aka ex-husband Number 2.
    At Thanksgiving dinner Psychofuck’s cousin said to me –in front of my Jewish daughter- “Oh MY GOD YOU MARRIED A JEW?!!!!”
    Why yes. You inbred dimwit.

    Here’s the deal: Hate spreads hate. Ignorant people –who only read what they themselves espouse- are killing us.
    Do we need a revolution? Yeah politically. Scary despite Jefferson’s quote. But hell, can’t we all just use some kind of rational discourse? At least for 5 minutes a day?  Try it first with your pet, then move on to a sentient being.  Baby steps.

    I’m certainly not advocating the escalating -and many times cruel- situation in Egypt. But it’s surely a daydream to believe I’ll see any real change in my lifetime. I’ll keep trying in my own little ways though.

    Wish I was a Dirty Hippie. Peace dude. Even Burning Man can’t make me think that this kind of change will ever happen in this country.

    ~Miss R

It’s Nipple Piercing Day!

nipple piercing needle

Have any piercings? Tats? Bones through your nose?  Surely you’ve thought of having at least one of these artistic additions added to your body.

Or maybe you’re just confused about the entire process. But you HAVE thought about it. Don’t lie to me.

Tattoos?: I have one tattoo. It’s self-designed, inconspicuous, will always mean something to me and… 18 years old. At the time I was the only woman in town with a tatt.

Now tats are everywhere. There are at least 10 parlors here in Reno that I can name off of the top of my head. Or yours if you’d sit still.

I refuse to ever have another because they’re no longer a symbol of creativity or the outsider. Here’s a fine example of what I’m talking about: Really hideous tattoos. You’ll laugh. You’ll cry. I’ll wait.

really  bad tattoo

Bones through The Nose? Okay this never appealed to me. Let’s move on.

Piercings? My tongue was done five years ago. There’s a cute little cubic zirconium stud in there. Had it done one lonely Christmas Eve. Lost weight that holiday season. You try eating with a tongue swollen to three times the normal size. Had a fabulous speech impediment for those few days as well. The family couldn’t understand if I was calling to wish them a Merry Christmas or was simply calling to say Bwewyyy Ishhhhmush! Lub Yeuo Nuuuu Nommee!

Really wanted to have my nipples pierced that day, but couldn’t afford it. And had heard a lot of horror stories about infection, refusal for the wound to heal, bars and/or rings being torn out…-shudder-.

Decided to take the plunge yesterday. Or rather the needle. Know several people with nipple piercings and none of them had ever had a problem. What the hell. Made an appointment.

Yes I was devoid of any painkillers. C’mon. Some things hurt bad but some things hurt good. It’s all a matter of degree.

Went to Black Hole Piercings in Reno around the corner from my house. Great staff, and cleaner surroundings than any hospital I’ve seen. Besides, they’d done the tongue and I trusted them.
Do NOT Attempt this at home. Unless you’re a complete moron, then go for it. I love seeing Darwin win.
Luckily my boyfriend came with me. He likes to watch.  And take pictures. No I am not posting them, on the blog. If you would care to send a money order for $219.95 to my address then we can arrange something. Make it payable to “Iva B. Haad.”

First the technician wipes down the nips with betadine. Then she took a small pen to mark each nipple to make sure the piercings will be even on each side. At this point you get to stand up, look in a full view mirror, check for yourself, and conclude that you look like a retard wearing only a skirt with your nipples painted orange.

Following this you lay down, your boobies are adjusted, skin is stretched , you take a deep breath and OMG THE PAIN.

Then the tech slips the hoop through the hole (which has been attached to the end of the needle). This was actually more uncomfortable than the actual piercing. Not the pain, just the discomfort.

Hey that wasn’t so bad. Pretty rad actually. Serious endorphin rush.

Now the other nipple. Woo Hoo. Your body is slightly shocked by this point so it’s a more intense.

Have to say, that I left there within 20 minutes, in NO pain and with the list for follow-up care, etc.
It was great. Not for everyone of course, but there are advantages. You’re on your own contemplating the paramount one.

They’ll be healed (and I’ll get to stop the soaking  twice a day in saline solution) in one to six months. Seriously. Depends on your health, how well you follow up, and god knows what else. Just in time for summer, swimming and of course Burning Man. You can’t swim in a pool, hot tub, lake or any place else while these heal. So do it in the winter if you’re going to take the plunge.

The best part? When the piercings heal there is soooo much fabulous jewelry to choose from. And really, who the hell doesn’t need more jewelry?

musical dangling nipple ring

Very cool experience.
And I have the pictures to prove it.

~Miss R

RUN FOR YOUR LIVES: It’s Almost High School Graduation Time

In just a few months my daughter aka ‘Demon Seed’, ‘Goth Genius’, and ‘Goddamnit Cate!’ will be graduating from High School.

She’s a good kid. In fact no one could have a better daughter. No really. All AP classes, 4.0 grade point average, ironic, funny and vocal in her opinions and black humor.

Your kid sucks.

Anyway, she called to let me know that the invites are going out for the graduation ceremonies. She gave me the list of family to be invited. We all have something in common: Love of my daughter and pride in her accomplishments.

Like any family, we have our squabbles. Some haven’t spoken to each other for years, some literally despise each other and many are just apathetic towards the others.

Let’s put it this way. There will never be a Family Reunion Party in my lifetime.

Based upon the known familial facts, and using the Scientific Method, I have come up with a graphic representing what our family section will look like at the her graduation ceremony at the High School football field:

Edelstein-Black graduation seating

Of course the remainder of these seats will be full of more family and my daughter’s friends. This is just an illustration of the immediate family. My mom would be next to me if only she liked even one of us.

I’m going to keep that seat empty with her picture on it.

There’s nothing like the American Family Ideal.

Good luck Class of 2011.

~Miss R

Your Racist Friends

Part One of Two by She Who Never Gets Her Ass into These Subjects

Let me start by saying that guests in my home have to follow but one rule: No discussion of Politics or Religion at a party.

Don’t care if you make drinks and puke on the carpet, have kinky sex with a Beanie Baby in the back bedroom –please for godssake close the door- , discuss your fabulous precious snowflakes –you will be shut down quickly on this one- or build a mountain out of mashed potatoes.

Just no politics or religion.

Okay.

So, met a new guy. Like him lots, he makes me laugh, is tall enough to reach stuff in the kitchen on the higher shelves; brown sugar, baking powder, otter pops for summer and all the food items that are rarely used.

He can fix a car (the strange metal devices that cost me hundreds of dollars only to sit parked on the street for months at a time), build shelving out of metal (this whole metal thing is clearly an attraction) and like myself, is a total geek. More than a geek. An Uber Geek! Master of computer tech and hardware. And a nerd. Ah, to joke about I’m The Fucking Batman with someone other than my daughter.

Best of all he tells me I’m beautiful. Not sexy or cute. Beautiful.

Ask any woman and she’ll tell you that this is the sure-fire panty peeler line.

Weirdness Factor: He’s a Republican. I’m a moderate Progressive. Not a Dem. Not Indie. The point is that we don’t shove our beliefs own each other’s throats and even joke about them

Here’s the problem: Remember that tune by They Might Be Giants?

Your Racist Friends?

Well, my new honey has got ‘em. In droves. Not all of them, some are quite rational even if we do not subscribe to the same beliefs.

It’s the trolls. The righteous who post incessantly on Facebook, take over conversation at parties, online, and god forbid you’re trapped with one of them in a car for extended periods of time.

We’re not talking Republicans. Independents, Libertarians or even disgruntled Bush supporters. Teabaggers are afraid of these guys.

These friends of my new love are rabid Kill Obama (seriously), Kill and Deport ALL Muslims (seriously and hopefully in that order) and return all illegal aliens (oddly enough they only hate on Mexicans) to their home soil. Preferably in the same way they suggest disposing of the Muslims.

Beck is a god and ‘never lies.’ Sarah Palin is the most intelligent woman in politics and is the obvious choice for our next president. Harry Reid is a moron (well, I’ll go along with that one).

More tomorrow. I know politics bore you but I feel like a hypocrite talking to you

You and your racist friends

~Miss R

I am my favorite Ken Kesey Novel!

Found this fine quiz from via the awesome High Desert Girl.
Another day. Another laugh. Another Randomly Generated Yet Close to the Bone Observation.
What’s that Chief..?

You’re One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest!
by Ken Kesey
You’re crazy. This has led people to attempt to confine you to a safeplace so that you don’t pose a danger to yourself or others. You may pose a great danger to the man (or maybe the woman) or whatever else is keeping you down. But most of the time, you just end up being observed. Were you crazy before you were confined?


Take the Book Quiz at the Blue Pyramid.

***FYI: No. I was not this crazy prior to marriage number one. Or two. Or running a retail business. Or having a kid. They all take their toll don’t they.

Hell, I felt an immediate bond with Randle McMurphy the first time I read this book. Think I’ll save that tidbit for my therapist too. Cool. New fodder for shrinkage. Mercifully this guy is literate and interested in literature.

Off to the shock treatment.

 

~Miss R

Currently listening:
The Bens
By: Ben Folds
Release date: 31 December, 2003



Return of the Drunken Neighbors

drunk neighbor chick

This should really be Part Two: Return of the Drunken Neighbors. Unfortunately I never did get around to writing part one.
So, I sum up…..

Two weeks ago there’s a knock at my door. It’s about 11:30 at night so naturally I’m wide awake. I open the door and see Jenn and Adam, my neighbors. They are pretty close to plowed condition. I let them in.
I’m easily amused at the expense of others and it had been a boring evening.

The next thing I know they’ve found my stash of two (count ’em two) wine glasses and produce a bottle of wine. Yeppers they surely needed more to drink.
It was delightful watching someone else make total asses of themselves, after all.

Things quickly went downhill. Adam and Jenn finished the bottle off, broke one of my wine glasses, listened to every Prince CD I own at maximum volume, found the on switch to my Peavey amps (which they cranked to 11) and sang along with aforementioned Prince songs.
I have tenure in this building so no one ever complains about the music. Heh. Fucking Plebes.

Anyway, by 2:00 am I’m as amused as I’m gonna be. Particularly after Jenn finds my toy box (the bedroom is where the computer is) and asks about the accouterments and why do I have all that rope?
I make a witty comment and maneuver their asses to the front door, not letting it hit them in the ass on the way out.
At 3:00 a.m. there’s a knock on the door. Yes I’m still awake. Yes it is Jenn and Adam again. I let them in and get them back OUT within 30 minutes.
So that would be Part One.

Part Two: Return of the Drunken Neighbors

Last night I was contemplating walking over to XOXO to hear Mark and Mister Vague. Had already done the traditional Annual Solstice Celebration with TK and was dressed to hit the town. Instead I thought “aw screw it staying inside where it’s warm sounds pretty good”.
A foolish mistake.

Now mind you, I blog with one main credo:
Never let the truth get in the way of a good story
.
In this case every damned word is true. You cannot make this shit up.

There’s a knock on the door last night. It’s…. just Jenn;  asking if she could borrow my phone because her cell was dead.
Me, being an idiot, says okay. She calls her boyfriend and tells me he’ll be there in a few, can she hang out till then.
‘Okay’ says the idiot.
Oh wait, she AND her 8 year old daughter.

So, I find out that Adam is not Jenn’s one and only. Not to mention that she has a daughter who lives with her. Apparently the management company doesn’t know about the kid and Jenn is afraid they’ll find out.
Maybe she’ll have to pay a $100.00 deposit for having an ankle biter in her apartment. I had to do the same for the cat so I feel her pain.

After her inebriated boyfriend arrives I go in to check my email -because I have no fucking life- then come back out to the living room.
To witness those morons going to town on my couch. My formerly pristine couch. The kid is dead asleep on the floor.

Finally got the fuckers (literally) out of the house before midnight.

The finale took place this morning.
There’s a knock at the door (this is getting old isn’t it) and it is ‘the boyfriend.’ I’m sure he told me his name last night but since I didn’t care it was not stored in the memory banks.
“I need to get Jenn’s shoes.” says boyfriend
“Whaaaaa?” say I.
“She left her shoes here last night” he says
“Whaaaaa?” say I.

There on the floor by the couch are a pair of tennies, that are not mine.
WTF?!
I can only surmise that she and boyfriend and small child walked home across the frozen icy snow covered parking lot barefoot.
That’s some serious drinking there Lou.

Tonight I’m putting a sign on the door:
Rachael’s Home for Wayward Neighbors
Now please get the fuck away

Talk about the Surreal Life. Sheesh.
What did I tell you? You just can’t make this shit up.

~Miss R

Currently listening:
Gustav Holst: The Planets, Op 32
By: Gustav Holst
Release date: 25 October, 1990