Red Hat ladies at Baltimore's Flower Mart lask week.
Old ladies love me. You have no idea. They always have. During my first year of college, I worked in the dining room at an upscale retirement community where the residents had semi-formal dinners each night. Despite my long red hair (I'm talking 90s rocker locks), blue fingernails (long story) and heavy smoking, the old ladies loved me. They used to call me "a gentleman and a scholar" which is funny coming from people to whom you just brought cranberry juice and ice-cream. Oftentimes, at cook-outs and parties, I can be found hanging out with the old ladies and the old men who would probably flip if they got a wiff of my religious or political views.
I got drunk with some old Army guys in the fall of 2000 at a crab feast, and one old fella told me that it was my "duty" to vote for Dubbya because he would keep the United States military out of the affairs of other countries(!!). As long as you tell the old vets that you are an Eagle Scout before you tell them that you firmly believe in gay rights, married a black chick and are pursuing various degrees in the impractical [sic] field of philosophy, you can get along wonderfully and drink weak American beers -- and drink them under the table to win some respect for the "college boys." Too bad I can't hold my beer like I used to. Excuse my WWII vet stereotyping. I know, I'm a jerk sometimes.
So this is my too-much-coffee and round-about way of putting something out there. Out here. Okay, so Blog Collective started around the time this here bloggy did. It used to have a lot of people, but not everyone had the time or motivation to do much blogging. The blog has dwindled down to Chris and myself. It's a damned shame, since it had some potential there for a while.
So what? So we are working on getting it back together. And to do that, we'd like to have some select members participate. And a delicious re-launch. If you're cool enough to be reading this blog, you're almost definitely what we're looking for. Veteran bloggers and newbies are equally welcome. Check out the old archives (early 2004) for the potential awesomeness of Blog Collective. We bitched about stuff like old ladies and made the internet better. You know it could be awesome. Collective blogs are good things.
If you are interested, please email me directly for details and such (see the link above). Please no "Dude, pick me" comments here. I'll delete them and add you to my "jackass" list in a Moleskine somewhere. And we'll say bad things about you on Blog Collective for everyone to read (not really). You don't want to be in that evil notebook of mine. When the end comes, you'll be glad to be one of my favorite people. I am a hugger. Yeah, you want a hug. You know you do. And some delicious homemade cookies and French press coffee from your favorite hairy-footed guy.
May 22, 2005
Chilling like old ladies.
Red Hat ladies at Baltimore's Flower Mart lask week.
Old ladies love me. You have no idea. They always have. During my first year of college, I worked in the dining room at an upscale retirement community where the residents had semi-formal dinners each night. Despite my long red hair (I'm talking 90s rocker locks), blue fingernails (long story) and heavy smoking, the old ladies loved me. They used to call me "a gentleman and a scholar" which is funny coming from people to whom you just brought cranberry juice and ice-cream. Oftentimes, at cook-outs and parties, I can be found hanging out with the old ladies and the old men who would probably flip if they got a wiff of my religious or political views.
I got drunk with some old Army guys in the fall of 2000 at a crab feast, and one old fella told me that it was my "duty" to vote for Dubbya because he would keep the United States military out of the affairs of other countries(!!). As long as you tell the old vets that you are an Eagle Scout before you tell them that you firmly believe in gay rights, married a black chick and are pursuing various degrees in the impractical [sic] field of philosophy, you can get along wonderfully and drink weak American beers -- and drink them under the table to win some respect for the "college boys." Too bad I can't hold my beer like I used to. Excuse my WWII vet stereotyping. I know, I'm a jerk sometimes.
So this is my too-much-coffee and round-about way of putting something out there. Out here. Okay, so Blog Collective started around the time this here bloggy did. It used to have a lot of people, but not everyone had the time or motivation to do much blogging. The blog has dwindled down to Chris and myself. It's a damned shame, since it had some potential there for a while.
So what? So we are working on getting it back together. And to do that, we'd like to have some select members participate. And a delicious re-launch. If you're cool enough to be reading this blog, you're almost definitely what we're looking for. Veteran bloggers and newbies are equally welcome. Check out the old archives (early 2004) for the potential awesomeness of Blog Collective. We bitched about stuff like old ladies and made the internet better. You know it could be awesome. Collective blogs are good things.
If you are interested, please email me directly for details and such (see the link above). Please no "Dude, pick me" comments here. I'll delete them and add you to my "jackass" list in a Moleskine somewhere. And we'll say bad things about you on Blog Collective for everyone to read (not really). You don't want to be in that evil notebook of mine. When the end comes, you'll be glad to be one of my favorite people. I am a hugger. Yeah, you want a hug. You know you do. And some delicious homemade cookies and French press coffee from your favorite hairy-footed guy.
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14 comments:
As you return from "Chris and yourself" at Blog Collective, what kind of content are you looking for? All the "dude, pick-me" folks out there gotta know what to show off from their portfolio.
Mad props on drinking with the "Greatest Generation," by the way. Maybe when they're really loaded, you can slip them a copy of the New York Times, or something else sufficiently subversive.
-R.M. from Hooper
You waste Moleskine pages on jackass lists? Damn!
R.M.~
Hooper? I have nothing but fond memories of my time in Hooper, culminating with the cops waking me up on graduation day. Are you still there, or were you there 2000-2001?
Content-wise, everything. Everything. The workings of the brains involved are more important to us than actual content at this point. Send me an email, dude or dudet:)
I'll only waste a tiny Cahier on that jackass list, Lorianne. No one's on it right now, though.
lol
Rach,
Is she the crazy lady you were talking about that time? If so, I just might have some more photos of her from that day. You know, if you wanted to have some fun with them. Not that I would condone doing mean things to people. Yeah, I would never [sic] do that:^P
John,
No, I'm not still there. I did have to graduate eventually, you know.
If you're still having difficulty, I was the ex-philosophy major who kept a keg of Guinness in his closet that year... and lived across the hall from you.
Sheesh. :)
-R.M.
Nicola,
That's them:) I think my aunt's a member, but I've never seen her hats yet!
Ridg Baby! You should join us again at B.C. You know you want to:)
Give me a ring, sucka. Let's get together soon.
EH, that blog collective sounds like an interesting venture.
Perhaps when I write better.
Revenge friends make the best friends, Rach -- at least, I think so.
What in god's name is a moelskine? Is it like oilskins, such as captain haddock once wore?
I waited...and waited...but no one has pointed out the irony of a black & white photo of "red hat" ladies. How do we *know* that's what they are?? Maybe you just *wished* they were red-hat ladies? Hmmm??? LOL... ;-)
Gary, I'm glad someone finally noticed:)
Irony aside, those hats with the dark purple and red might blow up some monitors in color, lol.
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