With the end of the year now out of the spotting scope and clear to the naked eye it is time to start making some resolutions. I wouldn’t say I’m any better or worse at breaking them six weeks into the future but I do make an effort. Using public humiliation as a tool and posting my plans may motivate me as happened in 2005 when I lost 30 pounds on the KAC-KDM plan. Since my waist is growing again I’ve been mentally preparing myself for 12 weeks of rabbit food and raw flesh, hitting the gym after work, and cutting down on the PBR. I know can do the first two. I’d rather drive a Chevy than be fixed by Betty Ford.
Otherwise I’m perfect.
But ever since my October trip to the Pacific Southeast for what I call Discretionary Seahawks Leave I realized that as much as I love Kodiak, I’m getting no love back. By that I mean real love, not da love from da streets from my peeps, homies, and the hater haters.
I can handle movies coming six weeks after their national release.
I can handle $3.50 Miller Lite on tap when it is 75 cents a glass in Wisconsin.
I can handle 43 straight days of rain. (That begs the question; is there such thing as gay rain?)
I can handle the stink eye from the elders at the post office or Safeway who can’t handle me. Eat me.
I can handle a lot of things people 48-side could not.
But I don’t think I can handle “the ratio” anymore.
10:1. Ten to one. Sure, get census data, it is all crap. Any guy in this town will tell you they need to rename the Crab Fest the Sausage Fest and its 360 days longer than the one in May. They need to consider installing a bin at Threshold for some of the chicks in this town that have been recycled so many times. Technically it is reusing, which I guess is more environmentally friendly. Whateva. I’m sure it isn’t any better for the ladies around here despite “the ratio” due to quality over quantity issues but that’s not my problem.
My problem is I honestly thought I could beat the odds. I was so f-wording wrong.
So back to my resolution which isn’t a resolution at all but a decision. Do I stay or do I go? I’ve never been one to say the grass is greener but when it turns brown under yer feet you have to weigh the possibilities. Leaving would be a major sacrifice; my mom’s chicken curry for example. The Job-I-Can’t-Talk-About being another. JOTR, the Alderwood Penthouse, watching Paul cuss at the 67” TV at Tony’s when the Huskies Coug it…they don’t fit in a Bellingham bound Impreza wagon on the Al-Can. And if Al can’t do it no one can.
Plus two of my closest friends moved back in recent years. Taco Bell is coming too. Parks and Rec will be planting palm trees in five years. The future looks bright. But the present…. not so good. What are my options? Stay or go adds up to two.
Besides Portacouveattlempia (I need a network that works in….) I’m not sure where I’d be willing to venture. And it wouldn’t have to be permanent. I’d consider seasonal situations so I could bless Kodiak with my presence. I have never missed a summer here my entire life. Brett Favre can’t say that. I’d also consider The Slope if I could get one of those phat two weeks on-two weeks off deals but I’d feel like a whore working for the oil companies. I’m a slut, not a whore. OK, I wish I was a slut. Whateva.
So I’m considering a finders fee to anyone who can hook a brother up with a lady with long term sandinher***** possibilities. That finders fee would be my 2008 Alaska Permanent Fund check which I estimate will be around $1800.00 U.S. Of course I’m cheap and will probably scrap this idea when push comes to beat down. And there would have to be lots of requirements and conditions to dissuade those just after the dough and not the sourdough/tundrasexual.
Adopted Son of Wolfmother had an idea for a free website for all Island Boys looking for their own Miss 3B1-3B2 that has potential but right now I’m just looking out for number one.
I’ll be pondering this for a long while.
Otherwise I’m perfect.
But ever since my October trip to the Pacific Southeast for what I call Discretionary Seahawks Leave I realized that as much as I love Kodiak, I’m getting no love back. By that I mean real love, not da love from da streets from my peeps, homies, and the hater haters.
I can handle movies coming six weeks after their national release.
I can handle $3.50 Miller Lite on tap when it is 75 cents a glass in Wisconsin.
I can handle 43 straight days of rain. (That begs the question; is there such thing as gay rain?)
I can handle the stink eye from the elders at the post office or Safeway who can’t handle me. Eat me.
I can handle a lot of things people 48-side could not.
But I don’t think I can handle “the ratio” anymore.
10:1. Ten to one. Sure, get census data, it is all crap. Any guy in this town will tell you they need to rename the Crab Fest the Sausage Fest and its 360 days longer than the one in May. They need to consider installing a bin at Threshold for some of the chicks in this town that have been recycled so many times. Technically it is reusing, which I guess is more environmentally friendly. Whateva. I’m sure it isn’t any better for the ladies around here despite “the ratio” due to quality over quantity issues but that’s not my problem.
My problem is I honestly thought I could beat the odds. I was so f-wording wrong.
So back to my resolution which isn’t a resolution at all but a decision. Do I stay or do I go? I’ve never been one to say the grass is greener but when it turns brown under yer feet you have to weigh the possibilities. Leaving would be a major sacrifice; my mom’s chicken curry for example. The Job-I-Can’t-Talk-About being another. JOTR, the Alderwood Penthouse, watching Paul cuss at the 67” TV at Tony’s when the Huskies Coug it…they don’t fit in a Bellingham bound Impreza wagon on the Al-Can. And if Al can’t do it no one can.
Plus two of my closest friends moved back in recent years. Taco Bell is coming too. Parks and Rec will be planting palm trees in five years. The future looks bright. But the present…. not so good. What are my options? Stay or go adds up to two.
Option A: sandinanewplace
But where? Yer thinking I’d go to Seattle but not necessarily. I’ve never lived in Oregon and like Portland almost as much as my adapted city in Washington. Some people say Warshington. I hate that. I’ve never been to Olympia but I like its location between the two. About an hour to Qwest and twice that to the Rose Garden. Let them be known from now on as Paul Allen North and Paul Allen South. Remember, I never promised you a Trailblazer arena. I’d like to try Vancouver B.C. too but it is 2007 A.D. and I’m ‘Merican. My fake Alaska passport doesn’t work with them, theys educateds. Maybe I can sneak over the border in a wheel well and pick strawberries outside of Whistler.Besides Portacouveattlempia (I need a network that works in….) I’m not sure where I’d be willing to venture. And it wouldn’t have to be permanent. I’d consider seasonal situations so I could bless Kodiak with my presence. I have never missed a summer here my entire life. Brett Favre can’t say that. I’d also consider The Slope if I could get one of those phat two weeks on-two weeks off deals but I’d feel like a whore working for the oil companies. I’m a slut, not a whore. OK, I wish I was a slut. Whateva.
Option B: P.F.D.4.L.U.V.
The other option is importation which has a ratio too. In fact it is the same number. For every ten outsider human females that step foot upon thy Rock, only one can handle it. I’ve conducted studies on various types of East Coast Guinea Coasties and found this to be true. West Coast ones usually die before transfer season, particularly the ones from south of Salem. Not enough sunlight and tofu for them to survive on the Soggy Tundra of Floydbeau Field. I’m not making sense to nine out of ten of you now so let’s move on. So I’m considering a finders fee to anyone who can hook a brother up with a lady with long term sandinher***** possibilities. That finders fee would be my 2008 Alaska Permanent Fund check which I estimate will be around $1800.00 U.S. Of course I’m cheap and will probably scrap this idea when push comes to beat down. And there would have to be lots of requirements and conditions to dissuade those just after the dough and not the sourdough/tundrasexual.
Adopted Son of Wolfmother had an idea for a free website for all Island Boys looking for their own Miss 3B1-3B2 that has potential but right now I’m just looking out for number one.
I’ll be pondering this for a long while.
