Christmas Island, Conn Fon Poppin & Christmas 2012!

It seemed to have all started right here:
http://releasethedark.blogspot.com/2010/12/oh-weather-outside-is-frightful-but.html

2010 it was.  I remember it well.  Sort of. ... I remember it.   ...  I vaguely recall something about that season..  ....  

2010.  Frankly I can't remember shit about that Christmas, but my ramblings seemed to have entertained someone that fateful day.  So, I now bring to you a 2012 Christmas Rambling!  And man oh man there's some stuff to vent over!

In my attempt to get in the spirit this year (which I'm still struggling with!), I did a search on DISH for one of the two classic Christmas Carols that I enjoy; Reginald Owen (1938) or Alistair Sim (1951).  I finally found ONE viewing of the 1938 Owen classic, but if you want to see it, you'll have to get up at 4:00 a.m. on Christmas day!  Its on AMC, and that's the only broadcast this year!  You won't find the Alistair Sim classic. 

Oh, and if you're in the mood for the fun-filled musical Scrooge... Scratch that off your list too.  Its not showing anywhere.

So go enjoy your Patton plays Scrooge version (1984), which they're showing all over the place!  When you stick your hand into a bunch of goo, that was someone's figgy pudding... You'll know what to do!

Right!

On we go...

So we have our Christmas party at the Courthouse Corner Cafe', and there was a traditional round of Secret Santa... followed by several rounds of pass the rum!  Someone ("D!!!") thought it would be clever to bestow upon mine self... a big ole' honkin' jar of...

Ayuh!  Conn Fon Poppin'!!!  (AKA Corn For Poppin)  Soooo just like that offensive song we reviewed some two years ago... why... two years ago this very eve!, I am now expected to pop this shit all over the house!  THANKS!  THANKS A LOAD!!!

So!  We like Ella's Conn Fon Poppin do we?  Oh yeah... OH YEAH!!!!  Well how bout this one...

CHRISTMAS ISLAND!

How'd ya like to spend Christmas on Christmas Island?
How'd ya like to spend the holiday away across the sea?
How'd ya like to spend Christmas on Christmas Island?
How'd ya like to hang a stocking on a great big coconut tree?

How'd ya like to stay up late, like the islanders do?
Wait for Santa to sail in with your presents in a canoe
If you ever spend Christmas on Christmas Island
You will never stray for everyday your Christmas dreams come true

How'd ya like to stay up late like the islanders do?
Wait for Santa to sail in with your presents in a canoe
If you ever spend Christmas on Christmas Island
You will never stray, for everyday your Christmas dreams come true
On Christmas Island your dreams come true!

Cute aye?  Sure it is.  Especially if you listen to the fruity Andrew Sisters belt it out.
Yessir, nice and tropically 40ish sounding... I'm all aglow with some Christmas Spirit now brutha'. 

NOW!... Lets listen to the Ella version!
BOOM BOOM BOOM!  The BITCH is BACK!!! ... and THIS time she's psychotic!!!

This chick is threatening to send your ass across the fucking ocean to some remote island! 

If you listen to the correct version, you'll even hear the poor sap she's trying to lure in to her web of holiday-hell crying out for release!  She teases him with taking his turkey away.  The guy notices there's no mistletoe!  He panics!  She smiles!

If you listen carefully, you hear him cry to the Lordy above that he doesn't want to be on that island.  He's not falling for that bullshit line about Santa rowin' his fatass on shore either.  This poor bastard is in a cold sweat of sheer panic, mindlessly nailing his socks to a tree in the hopes that the next time she walks by, she'll take him back to the mainland. 

Don't you get it people?  She just keeps walking past him singing that shit over and over, then retreats into the jungle, only to reappear in the dead of night.  She's dirty and gets dirtier as the days go by.  The madness in her eyes have a scream of their own.  Her hair is disheveled, and soon he smells her coming long before he hears her; now croaking the same line, "On Christmas Island your dreams come true!"

Its day 37, and there's barely any resemblance to a female human being.  Her tattered clothing hangs on her like rags; stained of her own excrement, blood and fish scales.

There is no humanity here.  The popping corn is ages away and long gone.  This is Christmas Island and she's glad to have you here.

She's hell bent and outta control!

If you ever spend Christmas there... You won't stray!  You won't EVER stray!

Happy Holidays!

Glenn Beck Continues... and thankfully so...

Ok.. The verdict is in... The chin hair... ... (softly now) ... it is real.

Glenn's doin' some chin hair thing.

He also wears some crazy denim at times.  It fits his crazy, wacky method of passing on his message.  His message... and his teams message.

At times I would like to join in the masses and proclaim Glenn a paranoid madman; I think mostly because his team seems so totally "out there" and his conclusions and predictions are scary.  They are larger than life and often unbelievable.  However, Glenn (and his denim and chin hair) are tragically spot on.  You can make any excuse whatsoever to not watch, listen or research what his team is saying.  Frankly I don't care.  (My fucking blog and all that.)  I challenge my dear lurkers to perhaps take a look.  I try to keep my mind open, but find it difficult to at times. 

I almost tend to agree with a friend of mine who claims Chris Matthews is evil.... no... EEEVILL.  (Conservative democrat my nut-sak, baby!)  I don't think he's evil, just misguided and a little overfilled with hubris perhaps. Why bring up Ole' Chris here? Why now?  Well... ya know... my fuckin' blog and all that shit... annnnd I really don't like the creep... Not sure why... Jusssssst think he's a creep.  .... That's where he'll remain...here in the Darkgarden... a creep.  Chris Matthews da' creeep.  Nope!  Don't know him personally.  Frankly, wouldn't give him the time of day if he walked up to me.. Unless it was at my sister's and my cafe'... annnnd he'd have to be buyin something more than a fuckin' jar of our goddamn sauerkraut or strawberry-fuckin'-syrup!!!  Laws yes!!!  Hear dat Chris?!! Doya boy?!!!  BEST be buyin' you some mu-fuckin' Reuben Samich's n' large bag o Rt.11 chips and 5 mu-fuckin' Hispanic fuckin' COKES!... BITCH!!!  So... (I do digress often) ... until Chris Matthews comes over to the cafe and orders him some Reuben, chips and 5 fuckin' cokes... he won't be gettin' the time o day here!

(breath)

Hey... Look... I don't propose in any way to have the ultimate answer, nor do I think I've got the total picture on our nation.  I know what I feel... and what I feel is usually pretty fucking close to reality and the truth of a matter.  I'm using my own little personal forum here to offer a laurel and hardy handshake to one of my consistent heros.... You slay me, dawg!... Glenn (chin hair) Beck.

Rock on... with... that... chin hair and denim and shit....

The rest of you lurkers!....   (wait for it!!!).... .... .... PISS OFF!

Glenn Beck Back on Blaze

To appropriately celebrate the event, please click on this link and allow the celebratory music to play while reading!

Glenn Beck is back for our regular television viewing!!!  At least on DISH channel 212 - BLAZE!

From what I have found out thus far, BLAZE is being offered free for a limited time for some of DISH's packages, and will eventually go ala carte at some point for something like $5.00 per month (if you don't have whatever package it falls into).

Aside of wishing the individuals operating the television cameras would take a Valium before show time, I liked the initial show I viewed.  I can honestly say I preferred the flavor and flow of the method he used when he was on FOX, and his panel bored me at times.  There was a connection he used to make that was not present on the show I viewed on BLAZE.

I'm also not sure if my picture is a little off because BLAZE is not HD, but it looks like Glenn needs to shave his chin.  AGAIN!... It might just be a tv thing.... or...  maybe... ... ya know.... chin ... (clearing throat) ... chiiiiin...   chin chin chin... ahem... Jeezuscrise! Glen!  Shave that fuckin' thing!

(Author's note:  In reviewing the program extensively for analysis of Beck Chin Hair; I believe I was in error regarding said hair, and there is no presence of same.  This author apologizes for even hinting at the presence of unshaven Beck Chin Hair, but also realizes that this rather dry blog entry could use a little flavor... and thus we're gonna shoot the shit a bit 'bout that chin.

Ayuh... CHIN!  Gonna shoot the mutha' luvin' shit o'er some Chin Activity.  Like the Tet Offensive... The Chin Offensive... Chin O' Beck!  
Chin With A Frown! 
Don't POKE at that body on the way down!

See how quickly a concept can dissolve into an utterly alternate bizarre paradigm?

We are now all chillin' with chin. 

Chill with Chin. ...

Chill with Chin O' Beck!

The... Creme Fraiche Controversial Chin O' Glenn! .... Glenn....  Glenn Beck, baby...

...annnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnd ....

that's all I got...

piss off

To Sleep... At The LeWitt Bog!

I’ve been neglecting writing for far too long. Far too much bottling up in the process. Bad and good.


What brings me here today?

Well, we must take a trip back to 2009… .and much much farther into the past.

It is the LeWitt Bog. The model railroading version of the LeWitt Bog, that is.

I actually sat down here to write on the subject, forgetting that I ever even wrote about it in the past! Apparently I did back in 2009. I tried to search for any information about the project, and ended up with a link to my original post on Darkgarden! That gave me quite a laugh. What led me to today’s writing was coming across “Trains & Locomotives” on RFDTV (DISH channel 231). I was feeling nostalgic and thinking of days and mistakes gone by, and came across a familiar wish of wanting to experience the quiet solitude and comfort of model railroading once again. Evidently I felt similarly in 2009, and recall a brief attempt at getting back into the hobby – hence the article I wrote I imagine. … Didn’t work out though. … Also another familiar conclusion to many a dreamt up plan.

This makes my mind wander to other thoughts…

Dreaming is ok. Pipe dreaming is dangerous business. Genius lies in navigating the line in between and prospering in reality. Successfully doing so without harming anything in your path is the stuff of saints. Walking that line is folly for the majority.

So we’re talking about the LeWitt Bog here. The LeWitt Bog; a (to most) simple basement, model railroading endeavor that engrained a memory both haunting and harmful in its wake. All it was about was a simple comforting project that involved a little dreaming, and the bond between a father and his boy. A little project that meant a mountain to one, and went completely unobserved by another.

The boy was just tryin’ to make himself a model to impress his father.

So in tuning into “Trains & Locomotives” my mind wandered back to that basement.

It wasn’t gloomy and pathetic back then. It has only grown so when looking back upon it now.

There is a comfort in model railroading, and I guess this is true with most hobbies. We all have our own reasons for doing them. …Ben makes kites. “Johnboy’s gonna read her a book.”

I think a trip to Roadside America is in order soon, and if it wasn’t for the need to spend a small fortune on my driveway, I’d probably visit it one day this week. I checked the locations website and it still seems to be open!

I think I still hope one day to be able to model railroad again. Like Needful Things, I have that hunger for nostalgia and creativity that many of us harbor inside.

I wonder if this is why my brother wants to drive trains and buses, and why my sister loses herself in old movies and old tangible items… (also sort of like my brother… who hordes a multitude of nostalgic items all around him for daily use… They’re on display every day at his place on the mountain!).

This hodge-podge of a writing really hasn’t went anywhere, but I’ll probably publish it anyway, as I’m way overdo.

Some interesting updates:

Some may recall this goofy festival that took place in/around Toms Brook, VA a year or so ago… Someone actually found my post on that event (which didn’t exactly commemorate it in a good light!) and was inquiring about it!

The great Titty Lady of Hank Toms Brook remains Darkgardens most visited topic!

There is no evidence to this date that I have found regarding a LeWitt Bog.


…Devoutly to be wished. To die to sleep,

To sleep, perchance to Dream…


…Now piss off!

America's Got Talent ... but the show's a bomb!

I was able to get a night off and as luck would have it, after forgetting/missing the first America’s Got Talent featuring Howard Stern, I was able to watch the following (Tuesday) night’s show.

I was pretty excited and had been patiently waiting to see the show after listening to Howard Stern on Sirius for the past several months describing the upcoming season of America’s Got Talent. I was looking forward to a show better than it had been in the past.

What a letdown! I mean MAJOR letdown!

I should have kept count as to how many actual acts the viewers in TV land were actually able to see. Most of the time they (the show, and the staff thereof) shoved annoying canned music over confusing snippets and clips from various performers in some sad attempt at showing the best-of…. something. I don’t even know what it was the best of!

The writers had Nicholas “Nick” Cannon way over the top in his cute shenanigans with failed acts, and the trash that should have been cut from the show were given more air time! I recall two occasions where Nicholas drug people back onto the stage to act foolish with him. It literally had me physically cringing and grabbing my chin in response.

The view gets no feel of chemistry between the judges. Perhaps there was none at this early point in taping. Perhaps the lack of chemistry was filled with loud annoying music and snippets. If I had the time I would almost like to go back and analyze all the judges’ body language. In general, the impression I was left with was that Howard and Sharon were tolerating the moment, and Howie was almost minimized if not somewhat withdrawn. Nicholas… just acted like a complete fool.

America’s Got Talent, I’m sure. This direction and production of this show does not.

I’d blast Howard Stern for being a part of it, but I’m sure there’s nothing he can do at this point.

I don’t get much time to view much of anything anymore, and I believe that America’s Got Talent will be removed from my DISH cue.

Garbage, people. The show is a mess and it is shoved in your face with gale force winds… only the wind contains fecal matter, spit and farm leavins.

FLUID IN THE CRUST

FLUID IN THE CRUST

I wander-crawl through a labyrinth of old stone passages.

Scared with heart pounding, I don’t turn back.

Emerge from an old stone fireplace that smells of dusty age.

This place has phantoms so thick they infuse you.

I’ve been here before, and return again.

Won’t you come along?

It won’t be long,



It’s a castle, a mansion, a cabin.

In a marsh, the woods, the field,

The mountains, the hills, the plains.

It has stood for ages.

It has encompassed all dread.

It has absorbed all fear.

It has distorted and fucked every joy.

Won’t you come along?

It doesn’t care if you do,

But you’re welcome to.



The rooms are bare

They feel full

Air thick with phantoms

So thick you can’t see

Like a dry fog.

The wooden floors are rotted and soft

But the dry moisture only whispers your footfalls.

Each step dreadfilled and heavy.

Each direction a rusted dagger into your brain.

Through a doorway we go again.

Another room, another time, another memory.

I’m feeling fine and relish the pox

The curse that floods over you warms a trembling soul.

Come on along. Won’t you?

It won’t be long.

We won’t be long.

Its never long.

Climb a set of stairs that should hold no weight,

But always does.

No, you can’t run! Just try!

See? Same speed every time,

And always

Dread behind

Dread ahead.

This room housed a corpse.

Dying horribly and decaying slowly.

Its almost gone now

A sinister potpourri.

Ignite that shit like incense and hang out.

There are more rooms and more levels

More passages and more halls.

Great halls!

Where the dead had a feast!

Where servants toiled with yeast!

The special pies were a must.

There’s fluid in the crust.

I’m on a blow-back mission, man.

Got 54 rooms to go.

Don’t be scared.

Come on along.

Even the ghosts are gone.

The phantoms though remain.

Always thick as thieves.

They’ll become dear.

They’ll coat you like sweat.

They’ll drive you mad if you let them.

Wander with them and suck in the pain.

Stabs your brain, dares to make you insane.

So come on in sane.

Won’t you come along?

It won’t be long. I promise an oath.

It’s a journey and adventure

A revelation and consternation.

Come on along!

It won’t be long.

It’ll be forever.

PAST WRITING

Originally titled: One Month Away
Originally written:  Circa 3/1/2012
Just discovered 4/21/2012.
Justtification for dragging it out now:  Looking around my fucking blog site! GEEZE!  Bet I could throw this fucking laptop over that mountain.



Groundhog day has sort of taken a turn. For me it now includes the addition of my regular job coming back into the picture. It was a mildly difficult adjustment. I had to quickly teach myself to completely turn off any type of worry or thoughts of the restaurant so I could use all my mental resources where they belong at the time. I have that balanced out pretty good now.

I figure Sis must still feel trapped in the land of Groundhog Day; as the cafe is the ONLY thing she still must focus on day in and day out. Everyone else has an escape.

A funny aspect of this wild ride is how Sis and I tend to slide into our own panic modes when business is slow for a day or two, and how we're ready to unfurl flags and strike up the band when the tide turns toward the better.

The cafe itself is way too small for what we would like to be doing. Dreadfully small. ... Actually... So fucking small that I find myself just short of screaming to be able to implement what I would like in this business. I have a better bead on what we are now truly capable of accomplishing, though I still have my doubts on occasion that we'll keep up this momentum. I find those doubts slowly fading though.

Everyone brings something to the table. What is brought to the table by everyone is almost always for the passion of making the business a success. Literal blood, sweat and tears have been invested. The exhausting work feels good though. Pure. Our attitudes are in the right place in that our goal is to provide for and be a part of the community that sustains our business. It is a pleasure and a priority to serve to the best of our ability.

Now... All of this I mention ...

(I do not know the original text that followed this.)

Come listen to a story 'bout a joint that's dead...

Poor Mountaineers
Won't keep their belly's fed.

But every day
They're lookin' for some gruel,
And over to Mt. Top they run like fools!

Swill, that is.
Black canned shit.
Texas toast.

Well next thing you know
The gang's dyin' over there.
Last sibling cries
Whatchoo doin' over there!

New Jersey remains
The place I oughta be!
One day I'm loadin' up the truck
And fucking this HILLBILLY!

LAND that is!
History!
ADIOS!
Soon to be His Story!
... ... ... why... Certain-LEE!

GREETINGS!!!! YOU CRAZY SUM BITCHES!!!

Hangin' in there.
I like that.
Don't care what I say or what its about.  Just diggin the shit.  S'cool.

I didn't plan on doing a song parody or poem or anything when I sat down here... Just planned on doing some old school writing as it comes to mind and then posting it.  Damned if that loose stool above isn't what came right the fuck out!  HEE!  Yaya!

The followers on here now must surely be few and very far between... That's ok though... because I also know a straggler or two also pop on here from time to time by accident... and thats also cool.

So let's see where this goes shall we?  I've got a nice Guinness Stout and a freshly cracked bottle of Jack... sipped slowly over ice in the most perfect cocktail glass (Thank you Grove's Harley Davidson of Winchester, VA!)... an evening off and a mind full of backed up shit a heavy duty plumber's snake couldn't budge!

First off... Couple shout outs for bad or worse:
1.  Cee-Lo, stick w. the Gnarls days.
2.  Dollar General - I haven't forgotten your shit charcoal.
3.  Big Purple lives!
4.  Fruit O The Loom Womb Flume DOOM!... I ain't never had so many fucking white t-shirts in my life!
5.  Snow - Go fuck youself.
6.  Cats n' females... (see #5) ... sorry.
7.  Ice Cream!  Yeah boyee!!!
8.  Mr. Death... yeah... you see #5 too, m'kay!

Right... enough of that.... I could keep on going.

OH!  There's so fucking much up here! 

I was outside raking earlier... which is a rarity because I AM NEVER FUCKING HOME ANYMORE!!!  (My own choice... my own choice...)  ...and, there was this really cool vision (imaginative I do believe) where something came strolling (always strolling... strolling is so cool... so BOSS) out of the woods and interacted with me.  It was pleasurable, but unfortunately I can't recall what the fuck went on... I'm just mentioning it because it was special.  (Note:  It was not any of the gang who live back there.)

SO!

I got this cafe'.  Got this little ditty of a cafe in Romney, West fucking Virgin-I-AE!
COULD be a gold mine of a place... MAYBE even where its at!  I doubt it, but I think it could.
Ain't happenin' though.
Lets say you're an aspiring painter, and all they give you to work with is:
Berries
Snot
Poo-Poo (from humans and various animals)
Spinach
Cottage Cheese
Now you have to create works of art that people in Romney, West fucking Virgin-I-AE will appreciate.

Not gonna happen.

Not getting it?
Need s'mo' comparisonsesisez?
Ok...

So, like, you're this engineer... but all you have to work with to create Rome's sewer system is:
Rotting badger head.
Burnt stick.
Red herring.

You getting this?

Suppose we build this large wooden badger...

Yo yo!!!  Hold on... I'm sick of even talking about that fucking cafe'... I'm tired. Dog tired. I'm cursed with a hyper-sensitive inquisitiveness that never consciously shuts down... So all I can do is teach myself to ignore observances constantly.  No shit.  Its fucking crazy.  It has perhaps gotten worse over the years.  So when you invest your soul into something (ain't no other way to do it, baby!) and things start looking askew to you, you often have (for the better good) to just look away ("just walk-away").  The stress of that act, however, builds... as stress has a tendency to do... Unless you're a boring moron who dwells in it...  complacency. 
Such a silly place... complacency.  I've personally contemplated it.  ... No, dear reader(s).  Venture not into that fucked up fetid lair!  (Yeah yeah... I used "fetid"... sometimes you just gotta pull it out... overused or not.)

What is coooool about the cafe?  (It sure as fuck ain't the non-existent ventilation!):
Saturday mornings with the boyz and Siruis XM's BPM.
Jam packed tables and a frantic cooking area (snicker).
Turning off the OPEN sign after a Becks and a day of +$$$ (undisclosed amount)!
Courthouse Corner Cafe' After Dark!

So that's about it bru's and sis's...

Bru's...

Got a few of them still...
Don't see my real one (brutha) much anymore...  That's totally fucked up.  Don't  blame him much.  I'd run for the fucking hills too from our bunch.)

So frankly.. The evening didn't give much in the line of entertainment did it?

Here in the Darkgarden... It often doesn't.
It often brings forth shit you'd rather keep in the shadowed corner with the dust bunnies, and the shit that lurks, always lurks, in the dead of night over your thoughts...

For now... Take this and go...  Perhaps more lata'... Perhaps not... (Mayhap it is... Mayhap it ain't!)...T
That's it friend(FOE) (s) ... Take one...

Hike... Long Pier... Tall cliff... Go...

and...

ya know...

say it with me...

PISS OFF!

The Cafe' Opening

I don't know how long I'll write here, but feel I should ramble on a bit for posterity in this short documentation of a minuscule business opening in a small insignificant (except for us residents) town in the middle of nowhere.

Stress and sleepless nights leading up to the opening were ridiculous for me, and because of the excitement (for bad or good) there was hardly any sleep on the opening eve.

What followed was a complete nightmare - for me, personally.

Its funny as I write this - and I spoke with Sis last night about this on the way to my house - I realize how much my mind has shut out from the first day. So I'm not quite sure I can capture the nuances of the day in whole.

Overall the day went extremely well from a business perspective. By the end of the day, however, I found myself spent physically, mentally and emotionally. I mean 100% emptied-the-fuck OUT! I observed my sister's fatigue as well, which only led me to further dismay.

Opening day sucked.

Then it became Groundhog Day. (The movie... not just the date.)

Every day its a wake up at 3:30 and in to the restaurant until 8 p.m. or later. Then the drive home and a straight crawl into bed (after kicking the cat and cussing out the bird, of course). Wake up and do it again.

I've personally discovered (as I feel Sis, Dirt and Snowboyz have) a new level to fatigue hitherto unknown to most of mankind.

I feel today is almost party day - though a lonely one - as we shut down early due to a strange combination of weather, Sunday and Super-Bowl. (This ended up being a mistake as after the last group was leaving and everything was shut down, cleaned and sterilized, more people started to wander in! So lessons learned on that one. We now know to stay open almost as late on Sundays.

So tonight I'm sitting here trying to make sense and catch up while watching Super Bowl commercials (I write during the game). I'll be in bed in a bit anyway, as I'm dying for a full night's sleep.

Now... A special SHOUTOUT to the Snowboyz who have donated countless hours in order to help get this business off the ground. They say they're having a good time (actually, everyone has indicated they are having a good time except me), but I don't think they realize the amount of labor and just plain morale they bring to the cafe' environment. Their presence at the front counter is more than pleasant and I'm sure they have greatly added to the appeal of the place as much as the great food and stupendous management! (HEEE!)

No pics... and no send-off sarcasm for you this time.

Countdown sequence...

I thought I'd take a moment and check in with my dear reader(s). Things have been extremely stressful and hectic regarding the opening of the Courthouse Corner Cafe'. If ever there was a food business focused on the correct concerns prior to an opening, it is this one.

Everything has been revolving around keeping the quality as high as absolutely possible, while maintaining an appropriately projected cash flow. Though it often times leads to verbal blows between Sis, Dirt and myself, the balance seems to be working as we all have contributions, views and concerns from different angles. Our skins get thicker and we trudge forward toward the dream.

Tonight has me in a different work-mode. Usually after my regular job in the evenings, I do research, crunch numbers, make orders and generally stress out. Sis has been keeping up with the test-kitchen and recipe side of things, which has been a God-Send! (Can I get a mu-fuckin' GAWD BOMB here?!! Laws yes!) I haven't had to do shit with the testing up to now... This evening, I had to break down my chili recipe, alter it some for regular people to eat (as opposed to those like my brother and I who like a little chili with our helping of hot sauces and spicing), and then ... (AHH!)... write it down.

Yeah! I had to write down how I make chili. Its usually one of those meals that is made different every time... So this was tough for me. (Especially making a mild recipe.) However, it was quickly done, and easier than I thought. It was also a nice break from the regular evening of figures and fretting.

There was an interesting side-incident that took place today that involved the arrival of the commercial Panini grill... It involved burning off the bees wax coating that is on the grill surface. I fired the bad-boy up and it was soon smoking like crazy. It was smoking like... well... like a commercial Panini grill with a shit load of bees wax on it.

Now not having a venting system... The entire cafe was soon engulfed in its own fog. I guess, in retrospect, after reading this as I type it, its really not that interesting. It was, however, GAWD awful funny at the time. Especially watching Sis and Dirt try to concentrate on a food order while I pranced around the cafe ever filling with fumes.

So, here we are, with about a week to go before the opening.

I feel I shall pee myself.

Can a brutha' get a mu-fuckin' Gawd-Bomb for peeing himself?! Laws yes!

Naa... No pics today... Gotta go play w. my chili now... So... Go on...

Shoo.

Licenses! Paperwork! ... Those sudden zoning costs!!!

I've read a couple books, talked to people, did a large amount of online research in order to prepare for the current adventure I'm sort of chronicling here.

The latest surprise was my quote for a monthly fee from the accountant.

$500.00 - per month.

Yeah. It even deserved its own paragraph. It is times such as that when one realizes the meaning of cliches such as "falling out of his chair" and "like a strike to the head" and the growing line, "He fell dead right there in front of the lady who just told him $500.00 per month."

It is at these sickening (for they truly are gut-wrenching, sickening moments) times that I wonder and become amazed at how perfectly and thoroughly the government and supporting businesses (undoubtedly driven by the same operation costs) suck you as dry as humanly possible as you try to succeed.

As one may view their journal, I hope to some day look or think back to this entry, and realize how silly I was being, or how weak I was. I've surpassed points where in the past I would have fled back into comfort, but I feel out of my element and quite defensive. (Yes, more than I usually am.)

Now this is strange too, as I think I'm on the verge of discovering (perhaps rediscovering is the correct word) what a positive attitude and approach to things is like, even in the face of anything to the contrary. I'm not there yet, and at times I feel it pulling my fucking head apart, but there is something happening upstairs in the noodle factory.

So with all that in mind (as I hadn't planned on rambling about my head), I now turn back toward those sudden accounting fees. I gave a shout out to Sis who should be able to take care of most of the accounting, and feel a little more comfortable that some medium ground can be had, and that the business will not have to fork out that ridiculous amount each month. A business that only has, really, one full time fucking employee, and that person is my sister, the co-owner! COME ONNNNN!!!!!!!!!!!

So I should be heading over to the cafe' shortly to meet up w. Sis and Dirt to do some more work on the place. I think I enjoy those times most. When I can just do some work and see something physical getting done, instead of writing checks and filling out forms and not seeing a goddamn thing for it.

So here was are reader(s). We're in the waning days before an actual opening. Things are starting to move quickly. Stress is rising as is some excitement. I will try to keep you (all) posted on the progression.

...K... ... ... go-on...

Piss off.