Oh Faithful Blog Readers
.....all four of you.....
I haven't given up on this blog. Please don't you give up, either. Each day goes by and I lay in bed at night thinking that another day's gone by without posting. I'm just so freakin busy. But I have pages and pages written about my amazing trip to California and I can't wait to get the stuff on here. I returned from the west coast, got a spotty three hours of sleep and then spent the following three days repainting the shop...making it bee u tifuuul. I'll post pics, along with stories of the process. So much to write.... so little time. Keep checking in. I'll get to it as soon as I can!
Monday, January 21, 2008
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
California
The only time I visited the West Coast I traveled by thumb.
I arrived in northern Oregon and took a bus through the night to Ashland. That would be the only public transportation I opted for on that trip. I arrived early in the morning and ended up sleeping on a couch listening to a Moroccan orchestra while my friend Jocelyn let her artist friend mold a plaster casting over her chest. I spent a few days there eating ripe avocados on seedy baguettes, riding a bicycle and sitting under waterfalls in the towns little park. Joc had a few days of work to finish up before she and I could do our traveling together so I figured I'd travel north to Eugene for a few days to visit some hometown friends while I waited. I found a sweet Hungarian girl at the local co-op in Ashland who didn't want to hitchhike alone either, so she and I gathered our gear and headed for the exit ramp together. In the back of the pickup, she took my hands and said a short prayer for safety in her native tongue.
After a few days in Eugene, I met back up with Jocelyn and we started our journey down the Pacific coast...eventually landing in San Francisco.... where we were convinced we could find Harrison Ford and convince him to take us to dinner and buy us pretty things. We walked from Mission Street to Chinatown, found some great second hand shops, Joc shaved her head in the upscale women's bathroom of the downtown Macy's department store.... but we never found Indiana Jones.
A few weeks ago, my good friend's very amicable ex called me to propose flying me out there for her 30th birthday....a surprise (until last night... which is why I can now write about it on this blog!)
You just don't say no to a free trip to northern California. I'd close the shop if I couldn't get the shifts covered. It's just that simple.
So, I leave on the 10th of January, landing in Sacramento around 5pm. From there, I'll drive some rental sedan five hours north to Windy Creek, California and smother Brandi with birthday love.
I arrived in northern Oregon and took a bus through the night to Ashland. That would be the only public transportation I opted for on that trip. I arrived early in the morning and ended up sleeping on a couch listening to a Moroccan orchestra while my friend Jocelyn let her artist friend mold a plaster casting over her chest. I spent a few days there eating ripe avocados on seedy baguettes, riding a bicycle and sitting under waterfalls in the towns little park. Joc had a few days of work to finish up before she and I could do our traveling together so I figured I'd travel north to Eugene for a few days to visit some hometown friends while I waited. I found a sweet Hungarian girl at the local co-op in Ashland who didn't want to hitchhike alone either, so she and I gathered our gear and headed for the exit ramp together. In the back of the pickup, she took my hands and said a short prayer for safety in her native tongue.
After a few days in Eugene, I met back up with Jocelyn and we started our journey down the Pacific coast...eventually landing in San Francisco.... where we were convinced we could find Harrison Ford and convince him to take us to dinner and buy us pretty things. We walked from Mission Street to Chinatown, found some great second hand shops, Joc shaved her head in the upscale women's bathroom of the downtown Macy's department store.... but we never found Indiana Jones.
A few weeks ago, my good friend's very amicable ex called me to propose flying me out there for her 30th birthday....a surprise (until last night... which is why I can now write about it on this blog!)
You just don't say no to a free trip to northern California. I'd close the shop if I couldn't get the shifts covered. It's just that simple.
So, I leave on the 10th of January, landing in Sacramento around 5pm. From there, I'll drive some rental sedan five hours north to Windy Creek, California and smother Brandi with birthday love.
Saturday, December 29, 2007
Bathroom Acoustics
I haven't posted any of the daily play-lists lately.
I started the day with mellow. A little Eldridge and Dizzy jazz to start, followed with Bebel Gilberto, followed by Ustad Zakir Hussain, and repeated over and over again with Louis Armstrong's Definitive thrown in.
It stayed that way all day. Some folks bitched because it was rainy and they thought I should have more upbeat tunes playing... but if I was home (which by all rights, at 2pm, I should have been... but my help was sick and so I opened the day.... and then closed it, too).... but if I was home, I'd have played those same tunes, maybe tidied up my house and then taken a bath with a glass of wine. Music playing and rain hitting the windows. Lovely.
But I was here and that was the play-list.
Then 5pm came and it was time to close. I still had tons to do and the single shot americano wasn't quite cutting it. So I changed the play-list. I started with some Del McCorry bluegrass, followed with some Old Crow Medicane Show bluegrass and finished with some classic Grateful Dead.
I was just about done with all the little details and as I was pulling the floor mats from the bathroom hallway back to behind the counter, I decided to stop and take a quick wizz before I locked up that section of the cafe.
While I was in the bathroom, Ripple started to play.
' If my words did glow
with the gold of sunshine
And my tunes were played
on the harp unstrung,
Would you hear my voice come thru the music,
Would you hold it near as it were your own?'
When I was pregnant with Ella... and pretty much fresh off of Dead tour.... I used to sing this song to her while she lay...curled up in inside my belly. I'd find big rocks to sit on and sing. I'd sing by ponds or sing while I washed dishes. It became our lullaby.
'Its a hand-me-down,
the thoughts are broken,
Perhaps they're better left unsung.
I don't know,
don't really care
Let there be songs to fill the air.'
I tend to sing under my breath alot while I'm working. Just kind of carry the song a little bit as I move from sandwich to latte to register. Sometimes I just mouth the words to keep me company and sometimes, if it's a really good song, I find myself dancing a little as I work. Thank god for music.
'Reach out your hand
if your cup be empty,
If your cup is full
may it be again,
Let it be known there is a fountain,
That was not made by the hands of men.'
I found myself standing there in the bathroom, eyes closed, singing all over again.
'Ripple in still water,
When there is no pebble tossed,
Nor wind to blow.'
And I realized a really great thing.
The bathroom has incredible acoustics!
'There is a road, no simple highway,
Between the dawn and the dark of night,
And if you go
no one may follow,
That path is for your steps alone.'
I don't know if it's because the bathroom is no bigger than your average Job Johnny but I can't carry a tune if it's in a bucket and I didn't sound half bad in there! Thanks for all the practice, Bean. Maybe tonight, when I get home, after we read a chapter of Harry Potter, I'll try it back on for old time's sake.
'Ripple in still water,
When there is no pebble tossed,
Nor wind to blow.
But if you fall
you fall alone,
If you should stand
then who's to guide you?
If I knew the way I would take you home.'
I started the day with mellow. A little Eldridge and Dizzy jazz to start, followed with Bebel Gilberto, followed by Ustad Zakir Hussain, and repeated over and over again with Louis Armstrong's Definitive thrown in.
It stayed that way all day. Some folks bitched because it was rainy and they thought I should have more upbeat tunes playing... but if I was home (which by all rights, at 2pm, I should have been... but my help was sick and so I opened the day.... and then closed it, too).... but if I was home, I'd have played those same tunes, maybe tidied up my house and then taken a bath with a glass of wine. Music playing and rain hitting the windows. Lovely.
But I was here and that was the play-list.
Then 5pm came and it was time to close. I still had tons to do and the single shot americano wasn't quite cutting it. So I changed the play-list. I started with some Del McCorry bluegrass, followed with some Old Crow Medicane Show bluegrass and finished with some classic Grateful Dead.
I was just about done with all the little details and as I was pulling the floor mats from the bathroom hallway back to behind the counter, I decided to stop and take a quick wizz before I locked up that section of the cafe.
While I was in the bathroom, Ripple started to play.
' If my words did glow
with the gold of sunshine
And my tunes were played
on the harp unstrung,
Would you hear my voice come thru the music,
Would you hold it near as it were your own?'
When I was pregnant with Ella... and pretty much fresh off of Dead tour.... I used to sing this song to her while she lay...curled up in inside my belly. I'd find big rocks to sit on and sing. I'd sing by ponds or sing while I washed dishes. It became our lullaby.
'Its a hand-me-down,
the thoughts are broken,
Perhaps they're better left unsung.
I don't know,
don't really care
Let there be songs to fill the air.'
I tend to sing under my breath alot while I'm working. Just kind of carry the song a little bit as I move from sandwich to latte to register. Sometimes I just mouth the words to keep me company and sometimes, if it's a really good song, I find myself dancing a little as I work. Thank god for music.
'Reach out your hand
if your cup be empty,
If your cup is full
may it be again,
Let it be known there is a fountain,
That was not made by the hands of men.'
I found myself standing there in the bathroom, eyes closed, singing all over again.
'Ripple in still water,
When there is no pebble tossed,
Nor wind to blow.'
And I realized a really great thing.
The bathroom has incredible acoustics!
'There is a road, no simple highway,
Between the dawn and the dark of night,
And if you go
no one may follow,
That path is for your steps alone.'
I don't know if it's because the bathroom is no bigger than your average Job Johnny but I can't carry a tune if it's in a bucket and I didn't sound half bad in there! Thanks for all the practice, Bean. Maybe tonight, when I get home, after we read a chapter of Harry Potter, I'll try it back on for old time's sake.
'Ripple in still water,
When there is no pebble tossed,
Nor wind to blow.
But if you fall
you fall alone,
If you should stand
then who's to guide you?
If I knew the way I would take you home.'
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
HO HO HO
My family came up for the holidays this year. Mom, Dad, brother(Jim), his new wife(Kristen) and their two dogs. The last time we had a full Harris Vermont winter Ella was six months old and way more engaged in eating the wrapping paper than enjoying the millions of gifts.
My mom and Jim went in on a new pair of cross country skis for my dad. Jim scored an old wooden pair of Tubbs snowshoes when they made the purchase so, since there's actually snow this year for Christmas, I pulled out my skis and we've been out there doing loops in the back pasture for the past few days.
I've eaten more food since last Friday than I have for the past three months and I think I'll need to do a diligent fast for the entire month of January to put things back in balance. We finally got to cooking up the 25lb turkey that we thought we'd use for Thanksgiving but didn't. I made up my foccaccia, fresh sage, pineapple, pecan, fig, shitake, shallot stuffing for the bird, cranberry sauce from scratch, roasted brussels, the old faithful mashed potatoes and a pumpkin cheesecake that we never even touched.
The little spot on top of my old wooden pantry, the spot that is reserved for the few bottles of booze we have at any given time... one or two bottles of red wine... sometimes a half bottle of Jack Daniels left over from a party.... usually placed with just enough room between the tea pots and the cookbooks....that spot is pleasantly overflowing with bottles of organic red wine, good bottles of Pinot Noir and the homemade wine that Kristen's parents make every year. Add to that the Malibu, Kaluha, fixins for Apple Martinis and the coolers in the mudroom with Sammy Smiths, Yeungling and dad's Miller Lite..... and it made for a cozy house and slow mornings.
On Saturday morning I made everyone put on their warmest clothes and drove them further out into the country, telling them, in turns, that we were either going ice fishing, to play paintball or to build snow igloos. Two Percheron horses were bridled and ready when we arrived and we left for an hour long carriage ride through pine forest and high mowing pastures. Incredible.
On Sunday we tried our best to not get out of our pajamas. We watched It's a Wonderful Life, ate more cookies, drank more red wine and ate too much dinner.
Monday, we carved our way through the house between balls of crumpled up holiday paper.... ate more cookies, drank more red wine, Yeungling and Malibu and ate too much dinner. At the end of the day, everyone had their little mound of a Christmas present alter and not enough energy to really organize much more than that. We watched a DVD slide show that my brother put together for everyone of their wedding in September and I cried (again) because I love him so fucking much and have never seen him happier than he was on that day.
After the initial novelty of a musical Ariel sea shell shaped chariot led by three flipping dolphins, Ella kept her nose pressed all day to her new portable DVD player or to the new pink Gameboy her Granny Jean mailed up from Maryland. Scary. I never thought my kid would own or choose to operate a Gameboy. This is the same kid who used to reem out all of her little boy friends for being obsessed with their video games... and there she was, not hearing any of us call her when dinner was ready... lost in the digital realm. I have a feeling on the scale of coolness, the Gameboy may win by a landslide over the pretty cast iron doll bed and bedset that mom got for her. Oh well. At least she digs the bathrobe.
My family is still sleeping at the house. I woke up at 5:20am to come and open the shop. I've been here for an hour and a half and have sold one small cup of coffee and one large cup of coffee. The college kids are home for break, the studio center folks have all gone home for the holiday... the new batch of residents arrive next week. Alot of my regulars have gone to their hometowns for a couple of days. I actually had everything ready to open today with twenty five minutes to spare. It was still dark outside and I hadn't yet turned the lights on in the two front rooms, so I grabbed my down coat and curled up on the couch and caught a quick nap before I had to unlock the door.
Jim and Kristen will come in and say goodbye before they leave. My folks have decided to stay an extra day. I'll probably leave the shop early and get in another cross country ski with my dad before the light fades late afternoon. Oh yeah, and we'll eat leftovers. For a really long time.
My mom and Jim went in on a new pair of cross country skis for my dad. Jim scored an old wooden pair of Tubbs snowshoes when they made the purchase so, since there's actually snow this year for Christmas, I pulled out my skis and we've been out there doing loops in the back pasture for the past few days.
I've eaten more food since last Friday than I have for the past three months and I think I'll need to do a diligent fast for the entire month of January to put things back in balance. We finally got to cooking up the 25lb turkey that we thought we'd use for Thanksgiving but didn't. I made up my foccaccia, fresh sage, pineapple, pecan, fig, shitake, shallot stuffing for the bird, cranberry sauce from scratch, roasted brussels, the old faithful mashed potatoes and a pumpkin cheesecake that we never even touched.
The little spot on top of my old wooden pantry, the spot that is reserved for the few bottles of booze we have at any given time... one or two bottles of red wine... sometimes a half bottle of Jack Daniels left over from a party.... usually placed with just enough room between the tea pots and the cookbooks....that spot is pleasantly overflowing with bottles of organic red wine, good bottles of Pinot Noir and the homemade wine that Kristen's parents make every year. Add to that the Malibu, Kaluha, fixins for Apple Martinis and the coolers in the mudroom with Sammy Smiths, Yeungling and dad's Miller Lite..... and it made for a cozy house and slow mornings.
On Saturday morning I made everyone put on their warmest clothes and drove them further out into the country, telling them, in turns, that we were either going ice fishing, to play paintball or to build snow igloos. Two Percheron horses were bridled and ready when we arrived and we left for an hour long carriage ride through pine forest and high mowing pastures. Incredible.
On Sunday we tried our best to not get out of our pajamas. We watched It's a Wonderful Life, ate more cookies, drank more red wine and ate too much dinner.
Monday, we carved our way through the house between balls of crumpled up holiday paper.... ate more cookies, drank more red wine, Yeungling and Malibu and ate too much dinner. At the end of the day, everyone had their little mound of a Christmas present alter and not enough energy to really organize much more than that. We watched a DVD slide show that my brother put together for everyone of their wedding in September and I cried (again) because I love him so fucking much and have never seen him happier than he was on that day.
After the initial novelty of a musical Ariel sea shell shaped chariot led by three flipping dolphins, Ella kept her nose pressed all day to her new portable DVD player or to the new pink Gameboy her Granny Jean mailed up from Maryland. Scary. I never thought my kid would own or choose to operate a Gameboy. This is the same kid who used to reem out all of her little boy friends for being obsessed with their video games... and there she was, not hearing any of us call her when dinner was ready... lost in the digital realm. I have a feeling on the scale of coolness, the Gameboy may win by a landslide over the pretty cast iron doll bed and bedset that mom got for her. Oh well. At least she digs the bathrobe.
My family is still sleeping at the house. I woke up at 5:20am to come and open the shop. I've been here for an hour and a half and have sold one small cup of coffee and one large cup of coffee. The college kids are home for break, the studio center folks have all gone home for the holiday... the new batch of residents arrive next week. Alot of my regulars have gone to their hometowns for a couple of days. I actually had everything ready to open today with twenty five minutes to spare. It was still dark outside and I hadn't yet turned the lights on in the two front rooms, so I grabbed my down coat and curled up on the couch and caught a quick nap before I had to unlock the door.
Jim and Kristen will come in and say goodbye before they leave. My folks have decided to stay an extra day. I'll probably leave the shop early and get in another cross country ski with my dad before the light fades late afternoon. Oh yeah, and we'll eat leftovers. For a really long time.
Monday, November 12, 2007
Oh yeah, I have a blog...
I've been out of the habit of posting regularly. Life gets in the way of even our best intentions, it seems.
I'm still trying to pull together the kitchen space in the back. Right now, it's a matter of making the place warm. Whoever insulated the place must have used Q tips and toilet paper.
Bill spent the weekend crawling on all fours under the porch out there and into the space under the kitchen. He dragged in one of the bright work site lamps so he could see and, one by one, brought in long pieces of blue board insulation which he screwed in above his head, while lying on his back. He then used that funky foam insulation to seal around it's edges. It's not like radiant floor heating in there, but eventually, I'm sure it'll help.
Next on the project list comes the endeavor of building a new door into the kitchen. The one that is there now is probably about sixty years old and light comes in through the cracks between the wooden panels and around the door frame, along with twenty degree temperatures. The new door won't be as pretty and suited to the historic look of the house but it'll serve it's true purpose. Right now, we're almost drawing straws when it comes time to have go back there and pull pastries or grab foccacia bread. I can't imagine what it's been like back there in winters past, when it gets below zero. I think it used to be a mud room. I'm hoping and praying that with a new door, an operating stove and an insulated floor (and the help of an energy efficient space heater, I'm sure) that we can function back there without the aid of mittens and ear muffs.
I've picked out the colors for the coffee bar room and possibly for the room with the computers, as well. Tonight I may nail down the dates I plan on locking the doors and repainting the place. I think if I don't commit to the calendar soon, it will never happen.
It's officially stick season in the hills. Naked trees and brown earth. The long cornfields are freckled each morning with Canadian geese, crows and wild turkeys... each in their segregated little flocks, picking away at the mowed corn shafts for forgotten kernels.
The mums on the porch have died from too many hard frosts, my pumpkins were finally stolen and the front steps got egged on the night before Halloween. Summer is definitely over now.
Once we set the clocks back for daylight savings, I started closing up at 5pm instead of 6pm. It's still dark when I leave here for the night but it allows me some extra time at home and less time on my feet!
I still haven't gotten to the point where I'm wondering why the hell I decided to do this. So far, I still like being behind the counter and haven't had a nervous break down about getting taxes paid on time or about the constant grind. I've had near nervous break downs about plenty of other things but that's life....
Floor's mopped, drawer is counted, brewers are shut down and the pastries are wrapped. I've got a rooibus tea for the ride home. Cheers.
I'm still trying to pull together the kitchen space in the back. Right now, it's a matter of making the place warm. Whoever insulated the place must have used Q tips and toilet paper.
Bill spent the weekend crawling on all fours under the porch out there and into the space under the kitchen. He dragged in one of the bright work site lamps so he could see and, one by one, brought in long pieces of blue board insulation which he screwed in above his head, while lying on his back. He then used that funky foam insulation to seal around it's edges. It's not like radiant floor heating in there, but eventually, I'm sure it'll help.
Next on the project list comes the endeavor of building a new door into the kitchen. The one that is there now is probably about sixty years old and light comes in through the cracks between the wooden panels and around the door frame, along with twenty degree temperatures. The new door won't be as pretty and suited to the historic look of the house but it'll serve it's true purpose. Right now, we're almost drawing straws when it comes time to have go back there and pull pastries or grab foccacia bread. I can't imagine what it's been like back there in winters past, when it gets below zero. I think it used to be a mud room. I'm hoping and praying that with a new door, an operating stove and an insulated floor (and the help of an energy efficient space heater, I'm sure) that we can function back there without the aid of mittens and ear muffs.
I've picked out the colors for the coffee bar room and possibly for the room with the computers, as well. Tonight I may nail down the dates I plan on locking the doors and repainting the place. I think if I don't commit to the calendar soon, it will never happen.
It's officially stick season in the hills. Naked trees and brown earth. The long cornfields are freckled each morning with Canadian geese, crows and wild turkeys... each in their segregated little flocks, picking away at the mowed corn shafts for forgotten kernels.
The mums on the porch have died from too many hard frosts, my pumpkins were finally stolen and the front steps got egged on the night before Halloween. Summer is definitely over now.
Once we set the clocks back for daylight savings, I started closing up at 5pm instead of 6pm. It's still dark when I leave here for the night but it allows me some extra time at home and less time on my feet!
I still haven't gotten to the point where I'm wondering why the hell I decided to do this. So far, I still like being behind the counter and haven't had a nervous break down about getting taxes paid on time or about the constant grind. I've had near nervous break downs about plenty of other things but that's life....
Floor's mopped, drawer is counted, brewers are shut down and the pastries are wrapped. I've got a rooibus tea for the ride home. Cheers.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
Costco Mentality
I took a trip to Montreal this weekend and revisited an Italian coffee bar that I discovered a few years ago. I remember it being the absolute best latte I'd ever had and wanted to go back to see what the trick was.... now that I'm in the realm of lattes myself.
I think now that I wanna hang with some Italian men for a while and learn the ropes.... maybe get the inside scoop on espresso machines and grinds and roasts. Being the consumer oriented Americans that we are (more, more, more), we serve a double shot latte in a 16oz cup. That's an awful lot of milk drowning out the coffee. The Italian shop in Montreal serves it in an 8oz cup. I came home and tried it here the next day.... my own beans, my own machine, my own 8oz cup.... it was better but it ain't that.
I think, though, that folks would riot if I tried serving them a $3.16 latte in an 8oz cup.
Maybe I should get some good looking Italian men in the shop to make it more convincing.
I think now that I wanna hang with some Italian men for a while and learn the ropes.... maybe get the inside scoop on espresso machines and grinds and roasts. Being the consumer oriented Americans that we are (more, more, more), we serve a double shot latte in a 16oz cup. That's an awful lot of milk drowning out the coffee. The Italian shop in Montreal serves it in an 8oz cup. I came home and tried it here the next day.... my own beans, my own machine, my own 8oz cup.... it was better but it ain't that.
I think, though, that folks would riot if I tried serving them a $3.16 latte in an 8oz cup.
Maybe I should get some good looking Italian men in the shop to make it more convincing.
Friday, November 2, 2007
Duh
I named a recent post Dope Move #42.
I should go the extra mile today and name this one Queen Dipshit.
I drove off last night with my business checkbook on the roof of my car.
This is not the first time I've done this kind of thing. In the past, though, some honest citizen has called me or mailed me my wallet or organizer. This time however, my checkbook fell into the hands of some punk kids (I'm guessing) and they proceeded to tear my checks out of the book and distribute them in clumps up and down Main Street here in Johnson. The checks and their carbon copies. I found a page of them when I pulled up this morning at 7:30am. I found another page in the muddy curb water in front of the shop. I started looking around, walking around, and it was like a sick, twisted scavenger hunt....I found some around the corner by the bridge. I found more in the Grand Union parking lot. More in the dried up perennial beds of the health food store. Some more on the corner of Railroad Street. A few customers came in with stacks of them in their hands. Two local businesses called about some they'd found in their yards. Hannah, who opened the shop this morning, found a crumpled pile just inside the door.
The account has been closed, with allowances for the checks that haven't yet been cashed, and a new account has been opened and a new checkbook is on the way. Bill, being the eternal optimist, suggested that the wind may have ripped the pages out of the book ("it was pretty windy last night").... but I disagree. If I ever find the punks who opted to play scavenger hunt with my business checks, I think I'll opt to hang them by their toenails from the flagpole outside my bank. Fuckers.
I should go the extra mile today and name this one Queen Dipshit.
I drove off last night with my business checkbook on the roof of my car.
This is not the first time I've done this kind of thing. In the past, though, some honest citizen has called me or mailed me my wallet or organizer. This time however, my checkbook fell into the hands of some punk kids (I'm guessing) and they proceeded to tear my checks out of the book and distribute them in clumps up and down Main Street here in Johnson. The checks and their carbon copies. I found a page of them when I pulled up this morning at 7:30am. I found another page in the muddy curb water in front of the shop. I started looking around, walking around, and it was like a sick, twisted scavenger hunt....I found some around the corner by the bridge. I found more in the Grand Union parking lot. More in the dried up perennial beds of the health food store. Some more on the corner of Railroad Street. A few customers came in with stacks of them in their hands. Two local businesses called about some they'd found in their yards. Hannah, who opened the shop this morning, found a crumpled pile just inside the door.
The account has been closed, with allowances for the checks that haven't yet been cashed, and a new account has been opened and a new checkbook is on the way. Bill, being the eternal optimist, suggested that the wind may have ripped the pages out of the book ("it was pretty windy last night").... but I disagree. If I ever find the punks who opted to play scavenger hunt with my business checks, I think I'll opt to hang them by their toenails from the flagpole outside my bank. Fuckers.
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