Did you ever dream that you were a dog agility super champ except then it switched and you were at some germy, grungy, derelict seaside park in the dark and the carnies were actually drug addled zombies that were shambling after you with hammers and their big teeth? And then as you're trying to escape your way out from under their oily, horrible claws by clambering up a rat infested palm tree, you're all, this is about dog agility like, how?
24 June 2007
Not always what you thought they might be.
How could I not like my job?
There were other near ranches before we moved out here. We almost moved to a different ranch last December. There were some weird issues we just couldn't make come out, and we decided it just wasn't right. And didn't move. Which I just found out was a good thing, as one of the owners is off to jail. He is an ex cop who became a horse shoer because he was fired for accepting bribes and helping out the Korean Sex Slave industry of Sunnyvale! They had mysteriously bought that very expensive ranch the year before (likely with the bribery cash!) and to make a long story short, he is off to jail. Very happy we didn't move there.
What is super creepy is that he was a super nice guy that I truly liked and trusted.
Last night, we went to a party for a reunion of what I was led to believe would be genuine hippies from the '70's. They all lived in a house on Portola when they were young and free lovin' and had beards and flowy clothes. Now they are all in their 50's and have jobs like Commercial Roofer, Accountant, Contractor, Fourth Grade Teacher, Sushi Chef. Their kids were all there that were naked in the old photos, and were nice and cool young people in college, but with unfortunate hippie names. The ex-hippie's house we were at was this stunning, 2 story, expensive finish, exquisite taste craftsman style showpiece (it was the house of the contractor ex-hippy). They all came in very nice cars.
One of the ladies had very fancy jeans and heels and perfect makeup and I think, implants. Expensive blonde hair. In her old picture, she had long braids and a vw bug and a patchwork dress and was sitting in a meadow that was their backyard at Portola. She reminded me of a barn mom that might nickel and dime over costs of things.
But they were all super nice. Likely not trafficing in sex slaves. I had been kind of nervous out to go to the party, since I've never been to a party of genuine hippies. They talked about their dogs and favorite type of barbeque. Two of them will be coming over to check out the roof project that sends contractors screaming because they were so nice and not afraid and do roofing and contractoring.
There were a few that still looked like hippies, and didn't come in nice cars. The guy with no teeth and the Grateful Dead shirt and beard didn't make a lot of sense the whole time I talked to him. He also wanted a ride out to Watsonville at 10pm since somehow he had gotten to the party with no car. The sushi chef had a beret and a weird flowery shirt but very expensive shoes. Later Gary told me he was an heir to something. He tried to have a jam session with the Professional Musician, but he couldn't remember any songs and kept messing up.
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