Goddamn Hippies!!

Phase II of Operation: Sayonara Santa Cruz has to be expression of my fed-upness over hippies.

My open letter to you 'O lame Hippie:

Over the near seven years I have spent in your sacred city of Santa Cruz, I have had many experiences. I would like to discuss a few here as I prepare to depart one of your flag ship towns.


To the UC Santa Cruz Tree Sitting dorks: Get the fuck out of the trees hippies! With everything going on in today's world, that is the best you can do? Really? Just sit in a tree. Riiiighhhht. We are in a war, world hunger is a growing problem, we still have orphans. Find something useful to do! How about getting a job?

[note: bird crap from the skies above is annoying enough, but if enough of you start hangin out up there all the time, someone is going to catch some hippie shit. Eww!

On that note: Get a freakin job! Working and paying taxes is a refreshing way to contribute to the economy. You can sit in the trees on your days off.

To the smelly guy with the Jesus hair and beard but not the divinity glow: I resented being stopped in front of the grocery store while you tried to explain to me how you are teaching The Man a lesson by being homeless, and then in the same I-haven't-brushed-my-teeth-in-two-years breath ask me if I can buy you some potato salad. No, I will not buy you potato salad! It's made by The Man. Get a job!

To the dude that parked next to me at Safeway last year in the old beater Ford truck: Your cat looked miserable in there man. Why in the hell did you think it would want live in that conversion contraption of a camper shell?! The lethargic little eyes peering at me through the chicken wire window holes you made, sort of smacks of ......... oh wait........you are living in there too aren't you? Yikeys! Get a job!

To the wandering Sir/Maam with the full blonde goatee and pendulous breasts: You make me uncomfortable. You are nice enough, but I have to admit that you startle the fuck out of me every time I see you. The day you asked me if I could buy you some shoes while in the store left me fighting the urge to offer a bra instead. Although judging by your attire, "new" is probably not the look you are going for. Maybe I should have offered you mine. I think we might have been the same cup size. Again...uncomfortable. And I am not sure where you are going to be able to get a job. You look like a little bit of an HR issue.

To the two topless girls that were wearing just the flannel pajama bottoms and Uggs. It was wasted on me that day in the cafe window sisters - sorry. And you looked really cold, if you know what I mean. I did immediately call my bf though with a full description and he really wished he could have been there.

In parting, suck it hippies -- and I don't mean the peace pipe either!

Sincerely,
daniella

A few links that help to make my point:

http://www.southparkstudios.com/episodes/103815

Once again, South Park saves the day but putting things out there so perfectly. Short on time? All I ask is the first 1:52 on this one.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zSEaHyzbqTA
Creepy, tree-mourning hippies....a very unsettling variety.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PyBj2WZIw_I

Once you let them form a drum circle, it's all over.

Hey Vince, One More Thing

Now that I know you get a little butt-hurt when you find out about things that are going on with me via the blog, [before I have called you] I have a moral obligation to exploit that to the fullest extent.

So on that note my friend, I forgot to tell you when we last spoke that I am not going to try and dye all the new gray hairs I have. Instead, I am just going to embrace my premature introduction into looking like Mama. Fuck it.

Call me if you need further info on this, or would like to share your thoughts.

Happy Thursday!
dani

Normal Thoughts...with Daniella

I like to think I get my feistyness from being conceived in the Reverse Cowgirl. Maybe I should ask my 73 year old father if he remembers.

Do It Like They Do On The Balloon Animal Channel

Yeah baby -- balloons animals are hot!

Dog Shit Man

As I prepare to move out of Santa Cruz, I wouldn't be doing my time here justice without a look back at my initiation into this little community; spearheaded by none other than Dog Shit Man.

About six and a half years ago, I came over the hill as we call it, from San Jose to do some house hunting here in The Cruz. I find this little condo I like, and I decide to buy it. I'm excited! A new little town by the beach, a cute little place that is all mine - fun! After a 30 day escrow, it's move in day -- yea!

I get here about lunchtime that day, but the place is already hoppin. One of my uncles has come from Gilroy to let in the guy that is doing the laminate flooring, and another who is repairing a small leak in one of the wall pipes. I had been babysitting the movers at my apartment previous, so now they are here as well going in and out the front door (with everyone else) with all the boxes and furniture.

Also present is non-human participant lil Ruthy. Lil Ruthy is a Toto-esque terrier mix, about 15lbs. She's not helping the movers, or even the flooring guy............she's just cruising in and out with whomever is doing the most interesting thing at that moment.

Things are going smoothly for the most part and it is a long, busy day. You know how moves go.

With floors tore up and boxes everywhere, me and lil Ruthy crash somewhere else. I don't even remember where now.

Anyway, the next morning I come back to the condo and I am going up the walk to the front door, as I note two things: 1. A black garbage bag to the left of the door. (The cleaning lady the realtor sent must have left it when she finished.) 2. A small, clear plastic bag leaning at the base of the screen door, knotted at the top. So my brain has already answered the question of what is in item #2. As I bend and pick up the bag, I am confident it is the shelf pegs for my bookcases. I'm thinking the movers forgot them in the truck yesterday and dropped them at the door. Now the bag is in my hand and I can see it better....I note some condensation inside the bag and then small-scale horror as I realize now -- it's a gift bag of dog shit! I'm thinking, "What the F***?!" As I quickly ditch the awful housewarming present in the garbage bag leaning there. I am unlocking the door eager to get in and wash my hands when I see a 50ish looking man coming up the main walk, headed by the front of my place. As I look at him he says hello to me and I say the same in return. But that's not all I say, because my intuition has already told me that this guy carries the mark of the tool. So I ask, "Do you know by chance who put a bag of dog poo on my doorstep?" I swear to god a slight beam of pride crosses his face and he replies, "Oh, that was me". Are you f ' ing kidding me dude?! I pause in total shock and say, "I'm sorry, but I thought the tradition leaned more towards cookies." Crickets. He totally doesn't get it; just starts some rambling bullshit diatribe about how he saw my dog follow the movers out and park one near the bushes yesterday afternoon and we all have to be really careful or we will get notes from the association. Blah...blah..blah -- Whatever dude! A dozen people in and out all day, new neighbor......don't cut me any slack by just letting me know. Nooo, go for the gold and literally choose to make a shitty first impression. Good times.

Dog Shit Man was born that day!

I love to mess with him, and now have built a 6+ year legacy of doing so on a regular basis. He always tries to say hello and chat -- sometimes I do, sometimes I don't. Now he is all twitchy when I walk by him because he doesn't know if I will return his wave or say hi when he does. Or he will comment on something he sees me doing like near my garage or whatever, in the hopes that I comment back, and most of the time I just look at him with a little smile on my face because I am loving how much of a tool he is. A few times he has seen me headed out somewhere dressed up and he will try to compliment me and I tell him something like "I'm going to a funeral" in the hopes that he feels like a jerk afterward. Last but not least, I NEVER use his birth name -- he will forever be known by his self-christened name Dog Shit Man. Friends, family, pizza guy-- you name it -- when they come over and his nosy ass is milling around the complex, I never hesitate to tell them who that douchebag is. Most of my friends and family (even my 72 yr old father!) call him Dog Shit Man. He earned it!

Afterword: Lil Ruthy's Revenge

DS Man has a dog named Benny. Benny goes everywhere with him and his wife has the most obnoxious habit of introducing herself as "Benny's Mom" [insert anti-anthropomorphistic gag here].

Anyway, Benny used to occasionally find lil Ruthy out in the front area and try the ole Wax That Ass! on her. Well, the other day Benny went in for a Who-who sniff, [pre-wax] and got his face bitten. Take that you little ugly Robin to your annoying human Crapman counterpart! I will admit that I was slightly disappointed to find that the big girly squeak that came out of him was not accompanied by a flesh wound. Oh well.

Poo and You

I am swinging the door open on my outhouse of shame and admitting that I am fascinated by all things bathroom. Poo and You is a tribute to......well......poo.

This blog is co-created with two of my cousins and is open to fellow poopers who would like to post.

Let's learn, laugh and love our butts together!

When Good Gifts Go Ra -- I Mean Bad

I like to consider myself one of those adults that is regarded as semi-cool in the discerning minds of teenagers. This need stems primarily from a lack of understanding that I am indeed not a teenager myself, and haven't been for quite a while. Ahh -- seems like just yesterday I was 16, and plastic wrapping the freshman toilets before stupid Miss Schlotzhauer's (sp) stupid history class.

She was one of those teachers that literally droned through her lectures. Out of all the lame things about her though, I am going to have to go with the fact that on a regular basis she accidentally tucked the end of her skirt into her stockings and never caught it as my fave. She would also match her stockings to the colors in her skirts. Good times. So when her ass was hanging out veiled only by mustard hued nylons, I would hold vigil threatening fellow classmates if they insisted on calling this to her attention.

My golden era I tell ya!

But I digress....

So out of this sophomoric need to be a Sophomore, I made sure I got my boyfriend's 16 year old son a gift certificate to put towards this bad-ass Freebord he had on his Christmas list. I hit the gift giving nail on the head with this one [which is so tricky when you are working off of a wish list] and said Freebord was designed online and ordered by the end of Christmas day.

I helped pick out the deck color and design, by the way. Yeah, that's right Semi-Cool Adult called up and put in to action baby!

The anticipation was almost too much to bear. Were they working through the holiday to make this extra special, super-sick board? When would they ship it? How fast exactly is UPS ground going to be on this?

Finally it arrived about lunchtime on the 5th day of anxious nail biting. It gets busted out of the box ricky-tick, and Freebording commences! Woo-hoo!




And about two and half hours and one long wait at Urgent Care later......





There is nothing like the feeling you get when you try to make someone's day by getting them something they really wanted.......and they end up with a broken wrist -- in two places.

I should have stuck to my original plan of observing Hannukah this year -- Damnit!

Where The Hell Have You Been?!

In case any of you are wondering why I haven't posted in a while........the rape van pictured above offered free candy not free wifi.

By the way, dude had cheap-ass stale sweets in one of those polished wood salad bowls. I doubt he could go back to serving salad in this one though, because it had a hole toward the base of it. Odd, huh? I guess that is why he isn't dishing free greens!

Happy New Year!