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Thu, Jan. 21st, 2010 | 07:11 pm  slavezombie


Don't Fight the Dandelions, Drink Them
slavezombie

I think this is what I might've been thinking the day this picture was taken of me in the tenth grade. It is a school picture dating back to the early eighties. I look a bit stoned. To tell you the truth, I can't remember if I was stoned that day, erm, at that particular time of day. I was at that level of study where science class required discecting critters like rats, embryo piggies, worms, and smoking cannabis.



Dandelion Wine Recipe

This is what you will need:
o 2 gallon crock, but I am sure that a glass jars will do as well
o 3 to 5 quarts dandelion blossoms
o 5 quarts water
o 3 lb sugar
o 1 orange
o 1 lemon
o 1 package live yeast
o whole wheat bread toast
Directions:
Pick the flowers without stems. Put them into a large bowl, not metal. Boil the water and pour over the flowers. Cover with cheesecloth and stir daily for three days. On the fourth day, strain the liquid. Boil the liquid with the sugar and citrus rind for 30-60 minutes. Return the mixture to the crock. Add the citrus juice. When the liquid has cooled to room temperature, soften yeast and spread on toast. Float the toast in the crock and cover for two days. Strain on the third day. Return the liquid to the crock and cover for one more day. Then filter into clean bottles and cork until ready to use. Drink after six months. I prefer to use screw-top wine bottles. They are more convenient and just as good.
Don't Fight the Dandelions, Drink Them


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Thu, Jan. 21st, 2010 | 07:59 pm  slavezombie


I get so angry
slavezombie

My boss has dropped the bomb on us workerbees. The biggest change that I'm still having difficulty coping with is the restriction of Internet. Work used to be so cool because the computers all had Internet access, but that's probably sufferable. What gets me is that everyone is feeling the brunt of the boss' wrath: 30 minute lunch breaks, no friends or family visitors, no personal laptops. So everyone who used to be on friendly terms with one another is now going at each others throats. What I mean is, a co-worker who happens to be at the same level as I am makes remarks about me not being appreciative of the working conditions.

That bullshit made me feel like I was the cause for the boss coming down on us. The boss had stipulated to her librarians that nobody is allowed to have a 15 minute break on Fridays if the employees don't take their breaks the first twenty minutes of starting work. WTF‽ This doesn't make sense, and yet, when I ask for a break, the dunce–in–charge says "I don't know about your union regulations. All I know is the MY boss said that nobody gets a break after the first 20 minutes of work."

Another remark from my co-worker who should be seeing things my way since we're both at the same pay rate, had to do about the Internet restrictions. She saw me take a peek at this video I blogged yesterday. Her snide remark was, "aren't you going to document that?" She said that because I've been bitching to the boss about how I was ordered to do something a certain way, but when my co-worker took over the project in question, the boss was okay with going back to the old way of doing things. Fuck that shit! That's 100% grade A baloney. I tell my co-worker she's mean to me, and blah blah blah. In the end I suggest that I'm going to have to stop speaking to her and her reply is "Promise?"

*bitch*

So I get home from work. I don't say goodbye to anybody. My only friend at work seems to have an image to sustain, and if she's seen listening to any suggestions I might have which others might interpret as giving her orders, she rolls her eyes at me and not in so many words tells me "fuck off!!" So, I'm all alone there now. I can't trust a soul. There's too many daggers sticking out of the lump on my back. I pour myself a small glass of Cap'n Morgan's Long Isl. ice tea with a bowl of peanuts. It isn't long before I'm pealing peanuts and fumbling them into the trash bag, as I sit and scrutinize Ana Garcia's ring finger to see if she's married or not. At least I'm still hopeful. I may not have any faith left in anybody anymore, but I still have hope that one day I will sweep Ana off her feet and live happily ever after. The following should be preceded with the word BITCH when reading

  1. You asked me what the fuck I had for your "volunteer" worker to do.
  2. Now I know what it must feel like to retire. Everything you learned thru me is thrown back at my face.
  3. Good, you know your a bitch then.
  4. I don't need to hear you pretending to be on the telephone talking to your boss's boss explaining to you that workerbees earn a 15 minute break after having worked for two hours, you crazy psycho.
  5. There is no god.
  6. I don't need a shrink. That's what bartenders are for. When have you ever mixed me an impressive concoction of hard liquor?


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