Maid Service?

A few years back I moved into my good friend Jake’s new house. There were just we two strapping young bachelors living there; not a lot of cleaning got done. Our main goal seemed to be meeting new girls; we put a lot of energy into that. Well, one a beautiful sunny day I returned home in the afternoon. I just happened to be in the driveway as two lovely young ladies drove by in a jeep. I was feeling particularly polite that day so I gave them a little wave; a little “how you ladies doing.” Jake’s house is on the corner of a cul-de-sac, which the girls turned into (his driveway is off the main road). So, I go inside the house and take a quick peek out the window to see where these lovely young ladies happened to be going and they had stopped right in front of the house and had got out of the car. Well, now I obviously move away from the window assuming that they are on their way up to the house. Nothing happens. They disappeared; no idea where they went. But, their car was still there. What the hell was going on? So, I eventually went out to my car and what did I find? On the windshield of my car was a little note (obviously from the hotties). They were advertising a maid service. SCORE! (Not Actual Blondes)

I present this opportunity to Jake. “We can have hot girls over and they will also clean the house. WIN WIN (for us at least)!” It is agreed that I should call them in two days. So the two days go by and I give them a call and make an appointment. The call was not necessarily smooth, this never happens to me. It was not my fault though; the beautiful blonde that I happened to be talking to had a fairly strong, Latin accent. So, being the small talk professional that I am, I ask where they are from. The conversation went something like this:

Me: So, if you don’t mind me asking, where are you two from?
Hottie Blonde Maid: Guatemala.
Me: Beautiful, blonde and from Guatemala? Must be my lucky day, how about you two come over tomorrow and we can talk about the cleaning.
Hottie Blonde Maid: Ok.

Slam! Homerun! Now all I have to do is casually jog around the bases.

6pm the next day arrives with a knock at the front door. (We also happened to be preparing for a photo shoot that night so Jake was off with the model and the make-up gal prepping. So, there are about to be four hotties in the house at one time with two jack asses. Those are good numbers). I answer the door, and much to my dismay, there are no hottie-blonde-maids to be seen. What the flying hell is going on! There are two, not cute Guatemalans. One of which is about to go into labor. What the Hell! Well, I invite them in and show them the place. As we talk with them I learn that they speak very little English. Jake comes down to meet the maids and stops dead in his tracks, like he had just seen a ghost. He immediately returned to prepping the model, good move on his part. I struggled with the maids for a few more moments, got a quote for cleaning and sent them on their way.

What the hell happened!? Where were the hotties?! Where did they go!? Did the Guatemalans send the hotties to put the notes on the cars? It doesn’t seem very likely. I still have no idea what happened to the hotties.

New Rule!

I decided to make a new rule. If you are going to leave feedback on someone’s blog that pretty much judges the writer and tells them that they are living a sad life; then you are NOT allowed to do anonymously. I think I will quote a friend, who shall remain anonymous: "If you're going to be big enough to say it, be big enough to say who you are."

Take a look at the specific instance I am referring to from an entry I placed in January 2007 titled Nice Dream: Getting Baptized? Me? . Seems pretty judgmental; I should not be too surprised though. I spent 18 years going to church as a child and young adult, watching people judge each other. Luckily I have been on parole since I was about 18 and I plan on being good so that I never have to go back to that hell.

I cannot believe I am about to do this, but here is a scripture reference.

Matthew 7:1-5

7:1 Judge not, that you be not judged. 2 For with the judgment you pronounce you will be judged, and with the measure you use it will be measured to you. 3 Why do you see the speck that is in your brother's eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? 4 Or how can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when there is the log in your own eye? 5 You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother's eye.

The last thing I will say is that I am who I am. I am happy with the decisions I have made in my life. I like being the captain of my own ship. If you choose not agree with me, that’s fine, I don’t care, I can respect that. Feel free to comment and say whatever you want. But if you are going to judge me and the life I live; go right ahead. But, if you choose to do it, grow a pair and leave your actual name. Then I won’t judge you for being a pussy.

Must Go #2

1. West Coast Chopper Stickers/Shirts/Belt Buckles and all things related: This includes the billion varieties. Can just anybody put whatever they want in that stupid symbol? I think the printing companies could save a lot of money and instead of printing a thousand versions they can just all say “Douche Bag.” Isn’t that really what they are all saying anyway? I suppose it can these symbols can be effective in assisting in the identification of Douche Bags. That way you don’t have to spend those five minutes in talking with that person before he tells you about his Jeep and you realize that he is a Douche Bag. You will never get those 5 minutes back. Recently I saw a Douche Bag with one of these images on his shirt. It had a scripture reference. I looked closely to make sure that it was not a real cross, and it wasn’t. It was a douche symbol.

2. One parent, one toddler, McDonalds to go: If you are going to spoil the family with McDonald’s then that is just fantastic. But, try to plan a little better. How do you expect one adult to go into McDonald’s, order 6 super value combo meals to go, fill up all the beverages, and get the order out to the car with the assistance of a clumsy 4 year old. This was not a very thought out plan. Go through the drive though! I need my Coke! And quit yelling at the kid! It is not their fault you are retarded. It will be your fault though that they are retarded.

3. Coupon Books: Maybe I should call them coupon novels. I get like five of these a week. I live in an apartment with a little mailbox. They do not fit and my important mail gets mixed into the pages offering me deals on new windows and carpet cleaning. It is a waste. These companies should pay for the recycling costs in Davis County (if you want curb side recycling in Davis County you have to pay for the service). This came to the boiling point for me when I was looking for my power bill mixed into the pages of this distributed. I came across the most valuable coupon I have ever laid eyes upon. It was, I shit you not, “Buy 2 spools of thread, Get One FREE!” FUCK YOU! Fucking waste. How many people can this coupon possibly benefit? Two? Maybe three? Send the coupon to the relief society president to pass out. Or just have that policy at your store. That coupon is not going to bring in new customers. Assholes.

4. House > Cubicle: It is common for my co-workers to refer to each others cubicle as their “house.” I am sorry, but my house is not a dull, life-less, asbestos coated, dwelling surrounded my obnoxious neighbors that listen in on phone calls and tell me how to run my life. But then again, I do work for the government, so in a way I guess the listening in on calls is kind of like home.

5. Me, Messing up Lyrics: Lately I have noticed that I have been screwing up the songs that I sing to myself while I am driving around. What the hell; I know these songs; I have been listening to them for a long time. Why do I still screw them up?

6. Short handle window squeegee things at gas stations. I love it when I clean off my windshield at the gas station with a squeegee that has a handle the size of a Popsicle stick. It is usually ok, because I like it when I lean in to get the middle and my shirt gets all that really clean water on it. I am obviously not busy because I am just out getting gas. Surely I must be on my way home where I can easily change my shirt. This one is really not a big deal; maybe I will remove it from the list.

7. When Kids get hurt because the parent was not paying attention, and then blame the kid for it: The other day I was at the park with my son and we were playing on the swings. Next to me there is a woman pushing a little girl, maybe 5 years old, on a swing. She gets the little girl going and then proceeds to walk away. The girl almost immediately falls off the swing. The adult swiftly walks back and instead of asking the girl if she is ok, she says “I asked if you were comfortable, and you said you were!” She is on a fucking swing! Of course she is comfortable! She is 5 years old, make sure the kid is safe, and then don’t blame the child because your lazy fat ass wants to go sit on a park bench and he a bag of Doritos’s.

8. An A- for a grade: There should be no A-. There is no A+, why should there be an A-. You cannot make up for it in any way. You can make up for any other grade, except the A-. If you earn 90-93% out 100% in any class it should be an A.

9. Strippers at Self-Checkout: Ok, first there are way worse things to be behind at the self-checkout than a stripper. They are usually OK to look at (though they never look as good as they do in a dark gentleman’s club after a few cocktails) and at least they are not incredibly obese. But could you please use your damn debit card. Those soggy-ass-nasty dollars are not going to work in the little cash machine. Soggy-dollars are only good for one thing; giving to strippers.

10. Myspace Bulletins: First off, Myspace sucks ass. But lately I have been receiving these bulletins telling me that if I love God then I must repost this. Really, is God keeping close watch on Myspace? If God has a Myspace, why hasn’t he added as a friend? That is kind of rude.