(An Absolutely sad but true story.. I can’t make this chit up..)
Sometimes I get in the mood to dine out even on work nights, lets face it, Single guy, I do know how to cook, But I’m just too friggin lazy to do it. That is until my four days in Heartburn city. Item.. Wednesday march 28th, 2007. 5:30 Pm PDT. I get off from work, decide that working through lunch was not a very good idea, so I clean myself up and set out to scrounge the vicinity for the evening meal. so, it is still daylight, as I’m scrounging.. Foraging even. I hit the Jack in The Box and go for the usual Biggo burger and side of fries with a flame retardant soda.( The tanker) by the time I cross over the threshold- (Sorry Samantha.) of the Tomb, the Scratchman’s belly, feels like he tried to eat a lit butane torch. Item… Thursday march 29th 2007. Five thirty-seven pm, I had previously during my work day decided not to take a lunch, (Again.. Too friggin lazy to make one.) so I bought something off of the chew and choke wagon that comes around to the shop once a day. I decided to go for the chicken sandwich with a side of Jalapeno sauce.. (Bad Move.) I get home, halfway up the stairs I can feel the remnants of the chicken sandwich rumbling in my belly..
I could feel it heading towards the emergency exit.. Next stop.. Crapper city.. Item. Friday march 30th, 4:35 Pm.. Worked all day, loaded a truck bound for Douglas Arizona. Didn’t eat again at lunch time. Got home and decided to play it safe.. Cracked open a can of split Pea with ham and bacon soup. Threw in some stale saltine crackers called it good. Slept through the night without further incident. Item.. Saturday, march 31st, 9:00 am.. Aka.. The day in hell. I get up and decide to throw fate a curve, I return to the streets to reconvene my food foraging excursion into one of the local eateries. This time the target is breakfast, so I decide on a new joint that just opened awhile ago.. That I shall call hence forth.. “Satan’s Little Kitchen.” So I’m seated and this ditzy lookin little Trollop comes bouncing over to take my order. I go with the safest sounding thing on the menu, The N.Y steak and eggs, with a tall glass of O.J. on the side. Ten Minutes rolls by, and then twenty, and I see the waitress bringing another chick over and she tells me that she’s taking a lunch break and this other person will be processing my order, which at that point neither one of them has even turned in yet. So One hour later I finally see the first ditz coming with my breakfast, and what happens Next do tell? She proceeds to try to give me the wrong order. “I didn’t order the Breakfast burrito,” I tell her, “ I ordered…STEAK and FREAKIN Eggs!” so she gives me a confused look and then begins to get indignant, finally I got my breakfast, and it wasn’t too bad I suppose. I did however tell the floor manager that they really need to train the staff a little better. So I get home and Voila! I ended up throwing vomit missile’s. So I laid down after the last round and decided to take a nice long nap. For thirteen hours. I got up at 2:00 am this morning and haven’t been right since, I stayed in bed most of my weekend, and completely missed the one thing on the Stream that I actually look forward to every week. So What am I going to do differently this week?.. I think that I may spend a little more time rediscovering my own Kitchen. Now.. If someone could tell me how to light an electric Stove? See ya’s all next week my friends.

Peace.
Scratch.

Tonights Special at The Heart attack Grill:

The Double Double Cardiac Burger.. (Yummo.)



*I posted my Blogstream tag results on The Scratchworks Blog, for anyone thats interested.*

American rock band whose bluesy, jam-oriented sound helped spark the Southern rock movement of the 1970s and set the stage for several generations of roots-oriented improvisational rock bands. The members were Duane Allman (in full Howard Duane Allman; b. Nov. 20, 1946, Nashville, Tenn., U.S.—d. Oct. 29, 1971, Macon, Ga.), Gregg Allman (in full Gregory Lenoir Allman; b. Dec. 8, 1947, Nashville), Berry Oakley (in full Raymond Berry Oakley III; b. April 4, 1948, Chicago, Ill.—d. Nov. 11, 1972, Macon), Dickey Betts (in full Forrest Richard Betts; b. Dec. 12, 1943, West Palm Beach, Fla.), Jaimoe (byname of Jai Johanny Johanson, original name John Lee Johnson; b. July 8, 1944, Ocean Springs, Miss.), and Butch Trucks (original name Claude Hudson Trucks, Jr.; , b. Jacksonville, Fla.).
Michael Ochs Archives, Venice, California

I don’t know what got me to thinking about Duane tonight, maybe it was because his style just always blew me away, just like it did so many others.. The Allman Brothers, now there’s a band for ya..
We miss you Duane.

Have you ever wondered why it is that some people can go through their whole lives lashing out at the world, and hurting people without so much as a second thought about doing so? acting without any social or moral conscience as to what their actions are doing to the lives of other human beings around them? they don’t think for a second about the consequences of their actions they just do whatever they feel like doing and sleep like babies afterwards. And on the completely opposite hand where does that little voice come from that keeps the rest of us animals in check? Where does our conscience come from? And how can it be that some people can completely ignore it and others live by it? Sometimes I find myself on the threshold of some decision that I’m about to make and I think that I’m going to do the right thing and this voice that isn’t my own just pop’s into my head and tells me that this is probably going to be a bad idea, and that no good will come of it. One fellow even went so far as to tell me that our conscience is our one true tie to god, and that some of us learn to listen to it more than others from a very young age. Although I do believe that it comes from upbringing, I’m more likely to think that some people are just more inclined to abuse because they can, and nobody ever challenged them not to. For instance even without someone telling me, I know, for a fact that taking another persons life, whether or not chance affords me the opportunity or not, I know, indeed for a fact, that it is wrong. So I simply couldn’t nor would I ever do it. If chance afforded me the opportunity could I steal from someone? Social stature aside, whether or not the person(s) in question had a great deal of wealth, could I steal from them simply because they had more than me?
No, probably not, because not only is it wrong to do so, but I have worked for the greater part of my existence on this planet, and I know what it means to have something taken from me, that aside, I was raised to respect the property of other people. So what about God? From my personal perspective, I’m not taking any chances, I cannot prove or challenge any theories of the existence of God or the devil or Heaven or Hell , nor how any such beliefs may tie into our conscience’s. here is what I know, when I am out there in the real world, I know that there is someone or something up there watching me, and prodding me along in the right direction, and that I when I hear that voice that calls into question every rational or irrational decision that I about to make, I owe it, not only to myself, but to the world around me to stop what I am doing , if only for a second and simply listen. See? I did it again.. I started out with one subject and completed drifted into another.. Or did I? Chit don’t mind me Y‘all, I was just thinking again.

Scratchworks.. © 2007



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After you’ve been at this blogging thing for awhile you tend to pick up on certain things, some of the cyber friends that we make here come and some eventually move on to others areas of the net, and others just leave to take care of their personal lives. But do they ever really leave? There are some here that just like to play their little games with people, some people just get bored and switch their blog names, and some just like to be mean and nasty with people and after awhile you get fed up with their nonsense and begin to pay less attention to them. So they leave.. And then you’re just Blogging along and out of the blue a new name just pops up out of the blue. And you think. “Wow, where did that come from? I’ve never seen them here before.” so you try to be nice and answer the comment and go to their blog and you strike up a conversation.. And the longer it goes on, you begin to feel the familiar creep in. something that they say with their writing, the way that they put certain words together, it just feels like you’ve had conversations with this person before, now barring reason and logic you just have to sit back and wait for this person to trip over themselves before you can put two names together to figure out who it is your really dealing with. They can’t hide who they are for long, and soon they will fall right back into their bad habits and find themselves right back at square one.
Since the beginning of my stay here at Blogstream, I have always been Scratch, I write whatever I feel like writing to the best of my abilities, there are some here that do not care for what I write and that’s perfectly alright. But I have always been honest with my intentions, and aside from an occasional bout with the obviously absurd, people here know pretty much what they can expect from me. But with some others here, its like dealing with someone who has multiple personality disorder, and you just never really know which personality is going to show up next.. See you all at the blog hop tonight, and hopefully you will get a chance to stop by the Saturday Roundtable at the bar and grill.

Later on.

Scratch.

When I was growing up we used to move around a bit, usually back and forth between central and southern California, my favorite memories are from when we lived near a place called “Gustine,” it wasn’t very big but when you lived in the country it seemed like the whole world. Me and my step brothers would go fishing whenever we wanted to, we’d take off in the morning and walk for miles until we found the perfect fishing spot. And then we would wind up sitting in the sun all afternoon only to not catch a single fish. Sure we would get frustrated, but the following weekend we would be right back out there looking for the perfect spot. Back in the early nineteen seventies it was still reasonably safe for a kid to go outside and go hunting for whatever pleased them, building a secret fort, or hunting rabbits and birds with your very own BB gun. In our case it was fishing.. Nothing could beat the feeling of walking out in the fresh air, being barefoot with a fishing pole and a can of red worms vowing that this would be the day.

I can’t remember the last time I had that feeling, now when I go out on the weekend I am no longer surrounded by miles upon miles of vacant countryside filled with nothing but trees ,streams and canals. All I can see now is miles and miles of the disease called urban sprawl, The adult in me sure can appreciate some of it, having a Starbucks at my fingertips isn’t so bad, but a part of me I think still misses the country side, the Trees the green grass , the alfalfa fields and the canals, walking barefoot down a back country road, with little care or thought about anything else. I think I should get a new fishing license this year, I hear the fishing out at Davis creek is going to be good this year, the department of fish and game is going to stock it. Who knows maybe this will be my year to catch the big one..

Scratch.