Back in the day, and I can’t specify the exact one, but it was in the 80’s and my new roommate had gone out of town. In her place she asked her friend to stay at the apartment since I was the new roommate moving in.

Who knew that almost 40 years later, that “friend” is still in my life, and gave me my life long name the Witqueen.

At first I was unsure of moving in with people a bit older than me, but it didn’t take long that, at times, I was the responsible one, as shenanigans abound. We lived right down the street from the Square Bar, so we were in walking distance and didn’t have to worry about driving. I found that my other BFF Janet, was definitely a part of the crew as well.

Michael is and was a fabulous dancer. While my dancing was relegated to a once in a while trip to Pulsations, but mostly spent dancing at WEB, at out church, there came those special times when I got to dance with him.

Dancing in the basement of a church for 3 hours, was fun and entertaining, but nothing could compare to dancing with, as we lovingly called him The Pig King. Or Drama Queen depending on the amount of alcohol consumed that evening. I remember one of my favorite evenings, Michael, Janet, and myself ended up at the Treadway Inn. I don’t remember who was playing that night, or if it was a DJ, but I do remember getting pulled onto the dance floor with Michael…and we owned it. People actually stopped dancing to watch us, and we worked it. Honestly it was, to this day, the best dance night of my life. (Freshette night excluded, but that’s another blog for another time)

As we went on with our lives, mostly good, some completely silly (drunk) when Michael insisting “You can’t throw me out of my own house!” when quite frankly our drunken butts were in front of Janet’s house. Jesus we still make reference to it, to this day. I still can’t listen to Dream Girls, without reliving seeing it with him and Janet. I still have the album, and was beyond pleased when it came back out on Broadway and a movie.

Out of all of this, lifelong friendships were born. But one day, Michael told us that he was moving to California. We understood, you have to follow your dreams, but we were losing our Drama Queen to the Hollywood Hills.

Wanting to show Michael how much we loved and were going to miss him, I convinced the girls to go to Olan Mills to get professional pictures done. Originally the plan was to be in lingerie holding a banner and props, but Jennifer was pregnant, so the Sexy Ladies of Pigmology as we named ourselves, came up with props and fully clothed. The photographer was totally into it, because if you day after day, take normal studio shots, and 8 women walk in with smiles and a twinkle in their eye, game on.

Michael made his way west, and was very successful. But we missed him, so Jacquie and I decided that we would go visit him.

It’s easy enough to assume that in the 80s you can get in just as much trouble out west as you could back east. Nothing too terrible, but I certainly learned that a policeman will stop you in Beverly Hills if you jaywalk. Really? We flashed our boobs at midnight on the corner of Hollywood and Vine, and nary a care. But cross Rodeo Drive in the middle of the day, and well that’s a ticket! Well I talked him out of it being from out of town and all that, but phht. Get over it already…

We returned home and I don’t think I ever got back there, but we kept in touch. Life continues and we lost touch with the girls, Jacque ended up relocating to California, Jennifer got married, and had kids, but I still had her do my hair. Most of the S.L.O.P moved on with their lives and got married, and we lost touch. Janet and I are still best friends, even though my life kept me moving on, but I would find myself moving back to West Chester to be where I loved it most, and friends were close.

Before you realize it, decades pass, friendships remain, and you just want things to remain as you fondly remember.

But life is four letter word too. Most people don’t think of it like that, but I’ve kept in contact with Michael as he continued his adventures on the west coast then finally Viva Las Vegas. Apparently it’s not like Elvis made it out to be, and he regaled me with stories of the strip. Who knew working at Walgreens could be so harrowing? No thank you.

Michael and I kept in touch over the years, and thankfully it is one good thing about FB and knowing your friends are just an odd ringtone away. Sure there is a time difference, but normally its not an issue, because this woman is not known as the Sleep Queen. Actually we coined the phrase “Sleep is for Slackers” when playing an online war game. I may have missed a call or two but last week, my message dings with the familiar, Call Me Darling from the King of Queens himself.

This time, there was no laughing, just heartbreak. I knew Michael had been having some health issues, but this time, the news wasn’t good. The doctor’s diagnosis was terminal and he has a couple of months left to live. I took it all in, asked questions, googled what he was telling me, trying to find a different answer, a different solution. But reality does suck at times, and there was nothing I could do to “fix it.” So we talked and tried to make sense, and you come to the realization there is no upside, its just preparing for the end, and that sucks. Big chunky wads. The kind you don’t swallow, because your mind is racing while you try not to let your friend know that life isn’t going to be the same without him.

I love you Michael. You gave me so much, your crowned me your Queen of Wit. I wouldn’t be me, without you. You’re in my world forever, and though you’re far you’re always close in my heart. So thank you for the years, the laughter, the tears, the joy your friendship brought to me, and to all of us. You mattered, and no one can take that from you.

*rips open envelope*

Me, Myself and I!!!

I’ve spent too much time, effort and energy not to complete my courses and get my real estate license. I started last year, did the required 75 hours, and then..nothing.

I scheduled my proctored exam from home, and on the day of my test, they couldn’t read my license. Seriously, I know my camera was working correctly. I offered my Notary Public license to prove my identity but they couldn’t accept that. You know, another license from PA. So in disgust I let it go.

But this pandemic is brutal. Not just lives lost, but the job market as well. I’ve never been unemployed for this long in my life. I’m not saying I can’t adjust to “stay at home” but even with 5 cats now keeping me up all hours of the night, you miss having things to do during the day.

So I’ve applied to jobs and was hired as a Business Office Manager at a local nursing home that was rife with Covid 19. I started on a Wednesday, and they had a table set up in the lobby and reviewed all the steps to follow from temp screening to how to handle the residents. They were all to stay in their rooms, and not be in the public areas. However, they had a nice old man named Martin, who refused to stay in his room. There’s always one in the crowd. I sat with the receptionist day 1 afternoon and day 2 to grasp the overall functions of the front office as it were and the additional duties she did on top of greeting guests, Covid screening and answering the phones. Fast forward to day 3, I come into work on her day off. I check the Covid Screening and not one employee had been screened. I look at the thermometer on the desk and the batteries died. Goodbye.

So needing money I applied to be an Enumerator for the 2020 Census. Did the training, took the tests and received all my supplies and the Iphone 8 (thanks Government) to perform the NRFUs. I had 52 houses on the first day. Got to the 4th house (my neighbor) and at the end of the very different census questions from the one I answered, I threw my back out. They helped my up, I hobbled home and called my supervisor. Done

Now a year has passed, my unemployment was denied because I didn’t have a doctor’s note saying I couldn’t perform the Census before I started. WTF, PA, so I lost my appeal and my benefits.

The pandemic is still going strong, and the job market is hell. If you apply for a job, guaranteed anywhere between 100-500 people have applied for the same job. Except for the job I’ve now interviewed 3 times for. You know when you see the job reposted as “new” after you’ve interviewed, they haven’t picked you. But I did my 2nd interview yesterday and 3rd interview today, with the acknowledgement of a 4th interview in the making.

The job pays what I need, its local and a small company I actually enjoyed the interview yesterday and today, but I have a feeling that it’s just not what I want or need. So I reached out to another Real Estate Agent who I’ve known for the past couple of years.

When I called him to tell him what was going on he laughed and stated that he didn’t know how I lasted 20 years with my boss ,when he couldn’t stand him for 20 minutes. Saying that, I told him where I was mentally and job wise and before I would lose my house to forbearance, I’d list it with him. His kind response was that he would rather hire me on, and its the worse time for agents right now, even though its a seller’s market, they are losing out on bidding wars for the lack of inventory out there. We got into discussing new builds and everything that I loved about real estate and construction in general. So at the end of the call I told him I would reach out when I had my license.

I booked a refresher on 5/22 for a 6 hour course to help my pass my test. I’m confident I’ll be able to do this and that they’ll be able to confirm my ID. I know who I am and even after 4 trick questions on my interview today, I solidified my choice for my future.

Now where are those dang cats?

The saying most known is “If you don’t stand for something, you’ll fall for anything.” Which technically has a different connotation than the original statement.

The original statement reads: “It is easier to fall for anything than to stand for something.”  This was printed circa 1926 in a Methodist Paper in Iowa. Which does come across as a preachy religious context, but it makes a point as preachers are want to do.

Fast forward to 2020 and almost everyone is falling for the Floyd guilt trip. I don’t.

While the police used excessive force, this wouldn’t have spurred the world gone mad if Floyd had been white.

Let’s look at the facts: His criminal past started with small felonies, and more recently his release from jail. https://www.tigerdroppings.com/rant/politics/george-floyds-rap-sheet-from-texas/90308692/

From his autopsy results says Floyd had heart disease and a history of high blood pressure. It includes a more complete toxicology report that said Floyd had evidence of several drugs in his blood and urine, including morphine, fentanyl, cannabis and methamphetamine, although not all of the tests were reliable.

Did his family love him? Sure ,since they still stand for him, but they don’t want the world to fall for him. But that’s exactly whats going on, after the world was contained at home during a continuing pandemic.

Now we have protests, riots, looting, all going on globally. White guilt and privileged is running rampant on social media, television, and everyone is taking a stand. But they shouldn’t because they are falling into a trap that there is no release from.

Personally, I treat everyone equally and the way I want to be treated. I try to do a good deed every day, or at worst I don’t interact with anyone, and stifle my urge to kick my husband’s ankles for when he doesn’t clean up after himself. But nothing to set the world on fire and the National Guard at my door. But I won’t feel guilty over the acts of others, and having no ability to rewrite history and change the past.

Stand up for yourself, for your actions, but falling into the guilt of the masses won’t change anything. It’s not how human nature works. We’re just a speck of time in this universe, better and worse people have come before us, and will come after us. Maybe future generations will look back on this time and based on the mores of the future will have their own reckoning of our history, and teach a whole different lesson according to their experience and how the future stands. But for now, I’m not falling for it, and I’ll continue to make my little part as best as I can for those around me.

And on and on and on it goes. Progress and enlightenment, the 60s we landed on the Moon, and now we have a Mars Rover. We have made progress in all areas that we take for granted, that our grandparents only dreamed of, and cartoonist drew from their imagination of wearing a telephone watch.

But now, two words set our back against the wall. “Ok Boomer.”

I take it for what it is, a lack of having any real response to the statement at hand, so they attempt to dismiss their elder with a snarky retort. We honestly have to see it and dismiss it for what it is, a childish response to the conversation at hand. We are at a monumental crux with our planet collapsing around us, politicians who refuse to stop destroying the Amazon, countries who continue to pollute the oceans, and it is beyond concerning the air pollution. Just take a look at this report from 2016. https://www.weforum.org/agenda/2016/10/air-pollution-the-true-cost-in-numbers/

A Goodwill Ambassador is described as “ a person who advocates for a specific cause on the basis of their notability. Goodwill ambassadors generally deliver goodwill or promote ideals from one entity to another, or to a population”

If there ever was a person who deserved such a designation on all levels of life, it would be Don Bigler.

Our family came to West Chester in the early 70s and settled into life here and at the United Methodist Church of West Chester. Back then it was Reverend Flood and Rigby, but the more familiar faces were the members of the congregation. There were the Bassets, the Biglers and  Werners, as well as the Haydens, Foss’s, and Ruth Gotwalls who taught us all to sing in three part harmony.

Based on where we lived we went to different schools, but what kept these friendships together to this day was the church. Make no mistake, that even if we did go to Sunday School  (for a while, but then not so much, and held our own meetings in the Nursery) we had MYF and canoe trips, mission trips to Kentucky and WEB.
We were trusted because of said parents (disclaimer:not mine) but the Bigler and the Werner family for sure. Regardless of shenanigans that we may embroiled ourselves in, we were still good kids.

Kids who grow up and mature, but come home from college and invite me over to dinner at their homes. By this time, my home had long been broken, and my present living situation was not the best. But I had my friends and their families who basically were my surrogates, and I celebrated holidays at their tables and I will forever be grateful for that.

These were old school parents, the type that are known today as the Silent Generation. Perhaps, in name only, as they were just as active and fun as we are now, at their age back then. Not only did they know how to have fun, they also knew how to give their time and energy.

Don Bigler, was at the door every Sunday with a firm handshake, a giant grin because he genuinely was glad to see you. Then he and the aforementioned ,would march down the aisle every week to pass the collection plate, and reverently remove the linen on the communion rail, even though one time we cringed inwardly. Don ran the show behind the scenes, quietly, but we all knew it.

Over the years I would run into Don in numerous places. Ringing the bell to collect donations, White Cane Day, selling fruit, making wreaths as he was a firm believer in helping his community. The last time I saw him, and to the confusion of my husband, he was standing outside at Wendy’s drive thru. I rolled down my window, and leaned out to give a nice gentleman a kiss. Toddy was looking at me as if I had three heads, when I simply explained, it was Jay’s dad.

Even after Jay and Heather had moved up north, I was still in contact with his parents, as I had sold them their computer and offered support on those occasions that they needed it.  It always came with a lovely visit and meal, and I truly miss those times. They always made me feel like I was part of the family.

The way he went wasn’t what we thought, and he always showed good will to his family, his church and his community. He was more than an ambassador, he was the church, the biggest giver of his time, his talents, his unending devotion to the causes he believed in.

The most we can do is honor him, and if we all do half as much from this day on, to every day thereafter, we may almost do as much good, as he did his entire life. Its a tragic loss, but I’m pretty sure if I do get to the Pearly Gates one day, he’s going to be there with a firm handshake and smile to greet me.

Yesterday started off well enough, and found out by mid day that the boss was giving all of us a week off and closing the office for a week. Wow, I thought as I know I would still have to work from home, but what to do with all the spare hours in the day over the next week?

The feeling didn’t last long as I hadn’t stepped inside, and took a seat at my desk when I heard a ping and Toddy’s son was reaching out to me. A moment later, a very firm knock on my door and an Officer standing on my porch.

They had received a call from the UK that my father in law had died, and no one could reach us. I explained to the officer that yes I am my social media name, and thought to myself, good thing I had changed it.

I first met my father in law George back in 2010 when I went to the UK the second time to meet Toddy. We shared the same birthday, as well as Toddy’s other son and a friend of mine and another relative of his. Let’s just say July 28th is a popular day in the Todd households. But he immediately nick named me American Lil and it stuck. That’s who I was to him and I treasured hearing it. Its one thing to choose an online name , another to be gifted an online gaming name (thanks Shadowspawn) and simply another to be given a new “family name.” I did use to use it on FB but changed it at some point to just my first and middle name, which was confusing to Officer Friendly.

I told him that I was in contact with my (step son sounds odd) but legally that’s what I am, though I prefer Step “lil”. He took our names and my phone number which I assume for his log. I found out only today it was Toddy’s mother who called, while I was reaching out to his sister to find out what we could, which was not much.

George like any typical English man of his day, was nothing if not modest and self deprecating. He was wheel chair bound but that didn’t stop him from enjoying life. I remember meeting him and seeing his fly fishing awards, and he spent most of his time in Thailand with his “Pippa” a lovely younger lady who cared for him deeply. George would spend 6 months with her, then off for a day to Cambodia, then back to Thailand. Apparently health care is 100x better in Thailand, than the NHS and I can vouch for that with my own dealings with them for Toddy.

While I was speaking to the Officer, I told him my husband was still at work, and he told me to let it wait until he got home, but I know my Toddy, so I let him know that his father died, but we don’t know anything more. I tried to find his brother to no avail, even though I had 8 years of old messages to go through.

My best friend had called me to let me know about her meeting with her divorce lawyer and I filled her in, so she switched gears and went to the State Store to grab a bottle of wine, and headed over.

Toddy had a rough ride home, but I figured he needed the time to grieve privately before he walked in the door. I got him settled, food ordered, and poured everyone a glass of wine while we tried to sort out what the plans were. All I knew was there was a slight problem, as Toddy had misplaced his passport, and in times of crisis it doesn’t take much to set someone off.

Toddy was hesitant to talk to his son, because he said he wasn’t allowed. Phht, I told him Aydon reached out to him, so he could talk to him as I have kept in touch with him over the years. It took a while, and with a 5 hour time difference I handed him my phone with the messenger app going and he went off to his man cave to talk to him and heal both their hearts.

I went back to discussing the other aforementioned discussion, as I’ve been friends with both of them and took care of their kids, and her husband use to joke that I was his “other wife.” But I also know the reality of their marriage, so I do help her with the necessary financial analysis to take to her lawyer. While this was going on I started to hear some laughter coming from the other room. Underneath it all his family is a wreck, his brother is lost in a drug addiction to MDMA, Toddy’s ex wife , his son’s mom is in an institution, his other son, from his first marriage is on the streets after a college project to spend the night like a homeless person, and he finished the assignment, per se..but stayed. Things are not going well for the family unit, and I could see the hesitation to return to the UK rise.

I finally had to break up the family reunion, as I reminded Toddy that Aydon (at 17) is a primary teacher, and it was 3 a.m. and he is going to end up taking a nap with the kiddos. We finally stopped for the night, wished my friend well, and we went to bed.

But I wasn’t quite done, and I reached out to Pippa on FB to thank her for all she had did for George. Suddenly my phone rang, and all I heard was heart breaking sobbing from Pippa. Fortunately her English speaking neighbor from the UK was with her, who use to reside in the US for a while.

He told me that Pippa had just returned after spending 6 months with George just 2 weeks prior and she can’t get a Visa to return for his funeral as she isn’t married to him. He told me if I spoke in short slow sentences she could understand me. So I once again, thanked her for everything, and put her on with Toddy as well. I hope what we said helped and could ease her pain for the moment, but we all heal in our own time. Her neighbor John got back on the phone, as he knew George well, and said it was just a shame about his accident back in the day that put him in the wheel chair. At that point I told him that it happened at work, and George had saved his friends life, by pushing him out of the way of the falling machinery and took the hit himself, that paralyzed him. He said he never know that, as he didn’t talk about that part of the story. I didn’t have the heart to tell him, that the friend drank himself to death out of guilt, because you never want heroic actions to be for nothing, but in my heart and knowing him, he would have done it all over again regardless of the outcome. He was just that decent of a man.

While his death is devastating, it is healing rifts that have gone on way too long. Toddy is nervous about seeing his ex-family, but I reminded him I’m his family and he has a lovely life here. But I’m also letting him work through this on his own, and he’s coming to the conclusion between bouts of not knowing what to do, but then wanting to see his son, and me finding his passport finally, that has set the wheels in motion.

So as I sat at home alone today, doing what I do, and cleaning up from the night before, there was a small bit of wine left in my glass. I toasted George, his life, his legacy and said good bye to American Lil, but she’ll still be there in my heart.

I’ve been away from writing far too long. But at 5:19 a.m. some things remain the same. Toddy is snoring beside me, I’m surrounded by 4 cats now, and in a weird deja vu we saw the PG13 of Deadpool 2 tonight thinking it was a different movie. It’s not.

Toddy’s 46th birthday is tomorrow, and he was just laid off from work Friday. It’s going to be odd for me, having him work with me for the last seven years, yet I can’t seem to get out of that place. I tried resigning June 2017, only to have the boss cry and guilt trip me into staying. Fast forward to January 2018, he’s asking me if he thinks I’m worth my salary. I reminded him he thought so last year. So now, with him laying off Toddy & George, we’re down to 3 employees and himself. The writing is on the wall, thankfully my resume has been written and updated, and I feel better about Toddy as I wrote his resume yesterday. Now over the next 2 weeks, I have to make sure he gets his drivers license (finally) and a new job. The boss said his layoff was temporary, as he “loves Toddy” but we aren’t building anymore, and financially we’re a wreck.

So we’re heading into a new year with a questionable future. If it were just me and two cats, I’d sell and start packing for move #28. But I love my home, I’ve still have a few projects to keep my occupied, and I’m close to all  my friends. Four cats preclude us from renting and the weather in Texas, stops me from sending my resume down south. The longer I stay here, the harder it is to leave, and lord knows I’m not getting any younger and my health needs improvement.

So Diary, I need to get my shit in gear, get the bathroom installed in the basement, so that becomes a rental suite as well, and worst case scenario, take on more sign routes to supplement income. I wouldn’t have to worry about finding another 6 figure job, and I’m positive that Toddy will get a much better paying job in the new year.

So instead of ending on a bad note for 2018, I remind myself that everything is for a reason, my goal is to figure out what that is, and in lieu of winning the lottery, keep us all safe, healthy and home.

2017- Glad it’s over.

I’m never particularly fond of odd numbered years, because it makes me feel older when my birthday is an even number. Don’t ask why, it’s just me.

But this year, I’m setting one particular goal, not resolutions, because lets face it, the best resolutions ever written, involved a bunch of fearless men getting together to take on another country and winning.

But last year I took a step to leave my job ( not career, no matter how long I’ve been there) but my resignation didn’t stick. I handed it in, he flipped out, cried, and guilt tripped me into staying. The reality is, I had it, but didn’t have another job. So I let him change my mind, and as karma would have it, I got a phone call three days later from a company I had applied to before the year prior, rescinded my application after a very good phone interview, and got the same offer again. Once more I had to refuse the offer and I’ve regretted it since.

The one thing I had left was my integrity and ethics, but my boss has stripped that away from me as well. One thing I remember a nurse telling me back in the day ,as I was visiting a friend/roommate in the psych ward where I had him admitted, was ” Don’t let him take you down with him.”

The same can be said now.

I was seriously considering selling our home and ditching it all to go to Texas. Toddy will go where I go, and after being an AirBnB host for a couple of years now, I’m pretty good at it. So I had found not one, but two homes for sale in Waco Tx for 140k for both. We would live in one, and rent the other (next door) and my plans were rolling through my head.

I reached out to my brother, to figure out how I would get a mortgage and he gave me a couple of ways to do it, but he did add that he was just in Texas in NOVEMBER and it was 114 degrees, in Austin that was only an hour away. Nope. In the Northeast it gets cold. Currently it is 3 degrees with a wind chill of -10. However, you can always put clothes on, but there is only so nakedy you can get. Also, I am a big fan of Fixer Upper, there were a couple of jobs I could apply to in their world, but as I was checking things out, I saw that most of the houses that they fixed up on their show, were actually rentals as well. Guess those lucky people who could afford the homes, didn’t move in, and decided to cash in as well. So strike that idea.

But as I was speaking to my brother, about the where to’s and why I wanted to leave, I filled him in on my current job, and he was pretty incredulous and flat out said, what I realize and that was ” You work for a crook!”

Crook, Desperate Man, label it as you will, but the truth is, I thought back to what the nurse had stated all those years ago, about not letting them take you down with them.

So as I’m trying to figure out where to go, and what to do, and knowing that 114 degrees just doesn’t work for me, I’m staying put.

My best friend, has been asking me about long term rental for a couple of people who are really in need, and with my love of decorating and projects I’m converting the basement into another finished area. A potential tenant is coming over today, even though I’m not quite done, but the house is zoned for student rental and bed and breakfast so I’m not breaking any codes.

So, knowing that I can offset the mortgage that I just refinanced down to 15 years, I’m feeling optimistic about covering that payment monthly.

But reality always steps in, and once again as I check the company bank balance at home just now, I don’t even think there is payroll this week ( again) and it gets old having to wait an additional week to get paid. Last year, hubby and I had to wait 5 times to get paid, and I had to loan the company money so checks didn’t bounce, and hand my boss cash out of my wallet so he had spending money. I get it back but I shouldn’t have to be in this position.

Last year, I decided to up my game, and got certified as a Home Inspector, and told hubby we could do that and make some money. We already work weekends with my advertising business, but that ebbs and flows with the housing market. So I also decided to become a Notary Public, but that isn’t exactly a money maker, but looks good on a resume. I also decided to get certified as a good Samaritan to administer Narcon if I’m ever in public, if someone od’s I can at least help until the ambulance arrives.

But since hubby is a self proclaimed professional procrastinator, I can’t rely on him to help with any home based business. Every year he tells me he’s going to get his license but lets face it, its been 6 years, so I’m scratching that off his “resolution” list for 2018.

But 2018 will be there year I get out of Dodge, find a new, less stressful job, that I can maybe actually put some retirement funds aside, beside the equity in my home. I know I can reach out to past employees, who he put in the same position that I’m in now, but he either fired them, or they quit as well.

So in retrospect, I’ll take a cup of kindness yet, for days of new lang syne.

I stopped writing a while back, life got in the way between work, marriage and lets face it, gaming is still my weakness.

But I find myself every once in a while coming back here, reading some of my old posts and wondering where my ability to knock one of these blogs out in the wee hours went to, even though I’m still *naked* when I write these.

I hang out on Reddit a lot in the wee hours, and while I disdain social media on the whole, it brings to mind the inability to capture readers if your statement is longer than 140 characters. The mind set is just not there. Based on any hashtag that crosses my path, and lordy do I hate the hashtag, but you can’t say anything deep and meaningful when you have the attention span of a flea, and a pack mentality. Every time I see or hear the hashtag for whatever has set the social media storm brewing, I picture the Coliseum and the mobs crying out for more blood or maybe the occasional hero they wanted spared. What once was the social collection of souls back in the day, it now sits empty and a tourist attraction.   I have to wonder what the next tech out there will be that reduces the masses to maybe just a sound , a grunt of approval or snort of derision, a 1 micro-byte of sound, when the masses can’t be bothered anymore to hashtag out 140 characters.

I miss the days when blogging was relevant, when you have to sit and think what will grab a readers attention , or just be able to write something relevant or humorous in the middle of the night.

There’s still a ghost of a chance someone still reads this.

I know I should have just let it go, but Toddy was sleeping, I was bored, and attempting to multi-task on the goings on here and abroad. This is so innocuous in comparison to what really matters in life, but this was all in response to McDonald’s posting that salad sales make up about 1% of sales.

Huffpost Super User comment that I felt the need to respond to: (name blocked) Just putting this out there, when I go to McDonalds, I go in knowing I am being a fat American, buying fat food that will make me fatter, I am not ashamed of it, nor do I want salads there. McDonalds is for fat people who like tasty food, and for parents whose kids are addicted to the chicken mcnuggets, “as was I when I was a kid.”

Selling salads at McDonalds is just a stupid idea, McDonalds is a fat people club, if you want a healthy salad then go find produce vendors on the streets, markets, or at the flea market, and make your own, GMO free, healthy salads. If you’re going to eat a salad at McDonalds you might as well get something that tatses good, the salads just taste like the color green…

Me:“Says the person who doesn’t eat salads. I love the Grilled Chicken Southwest Salad that they offer. Wendy’s does a Baja Salad that is incredible as well. If you don’t get much time for lunch, and the drive through is your only chance to grab something to go back to the office, I’m thankful that I can grab a salad. So yeah, I’m the 1%, and proud of it.”

Him:I don’t eat them at all on a daily basis, but I hate eaten a few of them. ?
Regardless or not of how many I’ve eaten, making a healthy GMO free salad with fresh market bought produce is lightyears healthier than eating them from McDonalds.

Honestly, if you even knew how to read the nutrition facts on what you eat, you’d know that a salad from Wendys or McDonalds is just as fattening as anything else on the menu. So, why eat some salad when there’s good tasting food on the menu instead? You’re not losing weight, or staying fit by eating a fast-food salad, you’re just being weird and wasting money.

When it comes to salads, please hear me out, “and with all other foods too,” if you have the time, make sure whatever it is you put inside your body is free of genetically modified organisms, (GMO’s). When you cut gmo’s, you will instantly see great changes to your health, which effects will only increase over time the better and better you get.

Me: LOL I’m not going to stop eating salads on your say so. That’s why there are choices on the menu. I do know how to read nutrition, and quite frankly, greasy food just does not agree with me. If I have 5 minutes to make a choice of eating or not eating I’ll take the salad as opposed to being sick within half an hour of eating fried foods. I would be more worried about pink slime chicken, than a 5.00 salad. Each to their own.

So at the end of the diatribe, I didn’t bother logging back in. It took me 5 minutes online to see about his Youtube channel stats ( not 1m hits by a long shot and its WoW related) He earned 279.00 is 2012 for ad revenue. I had his real name, no syndicated shows, but I knew every online game he played. I didn’t bother to call him out on it. I read other replies on other posts online, he just needed a gentle smack down. I could have ended it way earlier, by pointing out that the minute you call names, you’ve already lost the argument. He’s 19 and has a lot to learn in life. I’m 49, and I still have room to learn a little more myself. But the main point is not to be apathetic to what goes on outside our little worlds. We are all connected, what happens to one, can happen to all. But for now, I really, really, want a salad.