Awz. Well - thanks for your service. On a happier note - the Pasadena police were very helpful when my friend's car stalled out in '94. They were helping us push it into a parking spot on Colorado when some chick stole the spot. The officers tried to reason with her; she wouldn't budge. They told us they wrote "BIP" (bitch in public) in their computers, so... the next time she was speeding, etc. she'd be sure to get a ticket. Yay! To this day, I love that story. You guys have a really, really hard job, SM. And a lot of us appreciate your humanity, humor, and kindness in the line of service.
Call a windshield company and get an estimate for replacing the windshield. Safelite - or someone like that. Year/Make/Model is all they need, etc. The plumbing company knows one of their workers (and who) was in your neighborhood at that time. 3pm means on the clock.
I think it will all be okay, Bens. Windshields aren't as expensive as they look (as it were.) I think I replaced my last one for, like: one or two hundred dollars. Pardon - I can't remember the price. And it had that special antenna stuff in it and, like: anti-glare, rain sensitivity, etc. and all kinds of modern stuff.
You're doing great! Was it on this site I saw the image of a man with a sign reading (paraphrased) 'fire those greedy teachers with their 1993 Nissan Sentras' or something like that. Broke my heart.
Oh... you made my night, Salome. Thx very much for the laugh. Fonzed, my love.
Pension investments are not controlled by union members. They are controlled by banks/investment banks/investment funds. Hence, the disappearance and/or reduction of those funds when invested in... mortgages ca. 2008.
Furthermore, a freeze in salary (re: Federal employees) is done to circumvent early retirement and/or laying people off. We have a candidate running for mayor (here in my hometown) with a platform of firing public service workers and outsourcing their jobs - no negotiation. Not cool. And they'll probably get voted in by people who think like yourself, and *then* you can help pay their unemployment. Win!
I wish I could help, tactics-wise. From a psychological standpoint, I suggest wearing an excellent suit (or whatever makes you feel good) speaking in measured tones (and only when necessary) and Xanax.
I'm going to give this a shot - and think of different types of groups. Hmn.
Air shows: Pilots and plane owners are cool people, generally. Sometimes old, but definitely cool. Aerobatic pilots make bad boyfriends - they are always on the road.
Vintage car shows: Vintage car owners sit by their restored cars and will LOVE to talk to you about them. Easy pick-up - and the (2) I went out with before Mr. Boxy were both great in bed.
If I think of anything else, I'll let you know. But generally, the moment I moved away from the artsy-intellectual type (who usually only whined, like me(!) was the second I was not dateless for months at a time.
"And it doesn’t include much about other refinements we have in the pipeline."
Nice grammar there, babe. And random pluralization drives me fucking insane. Having written that - I don't read Gawker because *you people* are why I read Gawker. Denton sucks hind tit.
Pardon my language.
I dunno. I've had baby boomer men chasing me since I was 16. It's a salient (and controversial) point that times were very different in that brief time frame of post-pill, pre-HIV - particularly regarding older men and younger women.
I've always dated men who were at least 5 years older than me - on up to over 30 years. I've never been able to figure it out, actually. Of course, Mr. Boxy is - um - ten years younger than me. And I can't figure that one out, either.
Lovely post Ms. Salome - and I adore Woodstock! I have some excellent friends up there, miss it dearly, and am disappointed to write I've never had tantric sex up there. Yet!
Oh, dear. The skills do get a lit-tle rusty, I think. Print design for commercial application isn't easy, either. Best of luck in finishing the menu, and good for you for figuring out where you want to go w/ work. That might be half the battle. (Pardon, Cookies...)