I hate you Tweetsie

Far away, in the mountains of North Carolina, high on a hill not far from the Blue Ridge Parkway, there exists a community of people that come together in the spirit of a desperate need for money. These poeple particapate in an ancient, it would seem almost scared, ritual of ripping people's money off. These people would be the owner's of  "Tweetsie Railroad".

Don't get me wrong, I went as a child and absolutly LOVED it. I got to see "Indians" (I know it's Native American's if you don't know a persons tribe, or was the last time I checked) and Cowboys duke it out on a coal powered train and a ply wood fort,  four sad, polyester clad saloon girls perform in the "dance hall", and I rode a farris wheel that looked like it was going to throw you off the side of the mountain. And you know what? Between the ages of 5 and 10 it was AWESOME! Somewhere after 12 I started noticing certain.............historical inaccuracies.

 I'm not a history buff or particulary studious, but I did read enough "Dear America's" as a child to know that not everyone in the wildwest was between the ages of 19 and 22 (all workers at tweetsi are from the local college) and had nose and eyebrow piercings, that most "General Stores" probably didn't specialize in goverment cheese $8 nachos (they were $8 in the mid 90's, probabaly a couple hundred now), and small teddy bears beating plastic tribal drums. Along the way, other people seem to have also noticed, and Tweetsie has since been sued out of existance but still somehow runs May thru October.

As an adult I now live less than a 1/4 mile from Tweetsie. Which does nothing to hide it's multitude of flaws.

And since I'm so close now and it runs May thru October I hear the train whistle May thru October (25 runs a day starting at the 7:30 train inspection) and I play Russian Roulette with snotty suburnaites who fly around blind curves (doing 20 miles an hour over the speed limit, down a mountain ,that they ARE NOT FAMILIAR WITH) so that when I pull out of my drive way I have a 50/50 shot at dying (I either will or I won't die). (My favorite part is when they get mad at me and ride my butt  whike flipping me off for half a mile, screaming obscinities with young kids in the car, because they had to slow down for half a second. Nothing like a wholesome day of family bonding!  (you know I obviously have less reason to be upset since it's now gonna take you (5 seconds) longer to get home and get away from your kids and I only almost just DIED, you JERK)).

So to make this shorter and not go into a 500 word essay on how crappy they treat and pay their employees because everyone is so desperate for jobs (so desperate I was upset when the jobs filled up before I got my application in), I will conclude with a simple yet emphatic statement:

I HATE YOU TWEETSIE!

Dressing Rooms

Dear clothing designers, retailers, and all those whom (who?) are interested,

I'm a big girl. And yes that mean's I can wear pull ups and cry at my party if I want to, but I also mean I'm a BIG girl. I don't think small children have ever cried at the sight of me and to my knowledge no one on the street has ever stopped, pointed, and yelled "DAMN", but I can sometimes be a plus size shopper. Compound that with being 5'10 and oddly portioned (no butt, rather busty) and it's usually a long day of shopping when I'm in need of new clothes, it's not impossible and I don't usually start crying and cramming my face with Ben and Jerry's (What up chunky monkey!) but I do avoid certain stores.

One store (or type of store) I thought I wouldn't have to worry about not finding anything in was a maternity store (I have been known, on occasion, to "unknowingly" buy a maternity shirt (or two). They are very flattering for my body type). IT'S SUPPOSED TO BE DESIGNED FOR WOMEN WITH BIG BELLIES AND BIG BOOBS!! That's what's supposed to happen when you "become with child". BUT NO. Same problem as in normal stores, if it fits one place it doesn't fit another and if you are already fat, that means you have even bigger boobs which means you want to wear tops slit in half to show the world because surely a big woman doesn't want people looking anywhere else (LIKE MY FACE) they might notice she's fat.

Surprise designers! People with eyes know what I look like (or people that read my blog have hazy details that can inspire an idea). So stop putting me in mu-mu's with inappropriate chest-ail cutouts. Not only skinny people get knocked up, I promise you, I'm living proof (as is my in-utero son) that you don't have to be hungry for someone to find you attractive. So please make something that will cover me without suffocating me.  Thank you.

Inspiring TV drama

First I would like to say NO SUCH FREAKING THING. Now there are several movies, NOT 'made for TV movies, (lifetime/hallmark channel) that have made me want to do something with my life, not really long enough to actually do something, but long enough to get a heady wave of possibility flooding my system. See: "Mr.Smith Goes to Washington" staring Jimmy Stewart (by far my all time favorite actor).  Every time I watch this movie I think I'm going to be a Senator and fight for the children and good honest people of the world, fight corruption and hold a filibuster so dramatic and moving that the whole world with wake up and actual good will be accomplished.

However, Inspirational Television, that is dripping with it's own self-importance and self-righteous soapbox performance is at best depressing and at worst cloying.  For something to be deemed inspiring one must first suffer, and suffer hard. They or it or the town or the endangered wildlife must be in the brink of oblivion and stay there for an awfully long time before something good is allowed to happen to them. My life's going pretty well, despite my constant whining, I really have nothing to complain about. Does this mean to do anything worth wild with my life I have to lose everything? How is that inspiring?

Or it must be about the sweetest PERSON EVER (I'm out), like the person that's so nice you can't say anything mean about them but you still try because they rub you the wrong way (seriously could they burn a batch of cookies at least? For Pete's sake at least spill something on your frilly polished self) and then you come off as a callous jerk. Of course this could just the bitterness of self reflection rearing it's ugly head but I feel like people that are THAT sweet are hiding something and I don't trust them. Another way I'm screwed out of Opera interview status (of course I'm pretty sure her shows are all booked anyways and there's not gonna be another season so one more thing that I'll never be able to accomplish on my bucket list). 

Phrases that irritate me

COLD HARD CASH

That doesn't even make sense. Why is your cash both hard and cold? Did you drop it in the sink and then accidentally put it in the freezer (keys/remote control/tooth brush, all acceptable things to find in the freezer. Cash? NO). I understand if cash is just cold. It could be a really cold day out side, that would make anything cold. You could have been at the beach and put your money in a zip lock bag in the cooler to make sure the roided up tide didn't take it out to sea. But why WHY is it hard!?

What are you a drug runner or a bank robber? Are you trying to hide your loot from the police in the chopped frozen onions and your half empty bag of pot stickers? Cause guess what, that just makes your money sticky and smelly. And do you have ANY IDEA how dirty money is, I was a bank teller for a couple of months and believe me, you would not BELIEVE the crevices people pull their money out of. BLLLAICK (I just shuddered and jerk around like there was something on me just thinking about it). 

Or is just that your money is jaded and emotionally unstable? Is that why it's so cold and hard? Has it seen to much in its lifetime and is it now unable to connect emotionally to other bills? I mean, I'm sure money sees a lot, but for an inanimate object to be so disturbed, it would have to be pretty messed up. Was this particular stack only ever used on the black market? Were people mean to it? Did it's mother not love it enough when it was young and still a coin? 

People always talk about "cold hard cash" as being a good thing. I'd be mad if someone handed me a bunch of frozen emotionally unstable money as payment for something. Really? REALLY? You friggin bonehead, go thaw your money, send it to therapy and bring it back. Jerk. 

I realize that was one phrase (singular) and not two phrases (plural hence the "es" at the end of the word) but I'm really distracted by my deep hatred of this phrase so I'll do another one later and make it part of a series (series-also a plural word), but in all reality, probably not.