A Day Without Immigrants

I was wondering why it was that, when I popped into the market after this morning’s workout, I didn’t recognize not a single worker. No baggers were on site and none of the cashiers I’m accustomed to seeing were working.

Except for the manager, the store was staffed by strangers.

It wasn’t until this afternoon, after Judge Judy and before I could change channels to avoid the news, that I saw the announcement of A Day Without Immigrants.

Ooooooh, everyone took off in solidarity, thought I.

With all this DEI stuff taking the joy out of it, I myself am not celebrating Black History Month. I’ve also closed my Target and Walmart accounts.

And let me take this moment to apologize to my Canadian friends for what the Orange Menace is doing insofar as using tariffs to harass your country.

I’m a little upset that Canada, not to mention Mexico and China are capitulating, entering into discussions with the Orange Menace to iron out a deal.

My astrological sign is Capricorn the Goat — stubborn, resistant. I’d rather do without than give in to a bully, and I can’t be the only one who’d be willing to do so. So, if you all want to say "stuff it" to the bully, refuse to deal with him, with us, we will find a way to live without what goods you provide if it hurts the Orange Menace.

So, while Rome is burning, Red Light — oblivious to the fact there are bigger issues than her hurt feelings, continues her campaign of …… I don’t know what her campaign is. What’s her end goal for posting what she posted?

Does she want us to feel so sorry for her that we give in and invite her back?

Ain’t gonna happen.

Is it she just wants to cause as much damage as she thinks she can to others?

There’s an old proverb, "He who digs a pit for others falls in himself".

The only damage being done is to herself.

Her posts have become a joke, a laughing matter due to the childish way she expresses herself.

She hasn’t posted anything new; however, she has been making telephone calls.

I’m guessing she knows that though I harbor no ill will towards her, I’m not the kind of person to play this nonsensical game, so there have been no calls to my phone looking for sympathy or venting her anger.

Baker said she stopped answering her phone when Red Light called, gave up trying to talk sense into her, so Red Light called and called and called and called until Baker had to block her.

Talker said she’d really like to talk to Red Light, tell her to think about what she’s doing, get her to calm down, but doesn’t feel now is the right time when Red Light is being so volatile. So, Talker also doesn’t answer when Red Light calls, but isn’t being bombarded like the Baker was.

I’ve no idea what Manager is going to do, but I bet Red Light’s behavior is going to set a precedent; that when we next have one of her meetings, she’ll tell us that once a resident moves out, it's "not okay" or safe for us to allow them back on the property to visit or engage in any of our activities.

Inasmuch as I don’t plan to hang out with the usual suspects at bingo, or any of the events listed on this month’s Activity Calendar, I doubt I’ll have anything more to report on the subject, unless someone catches me outside and fills me in.

Speaking of this month’s Activity Calendar ………… You might recall that, because we lost access to the calendar when it became only accessible through Rent Café, the Activity Director snuck a copy to Baker, who passed around to us.

Color me surprised when I found this month’s calendar in my email.

It came directly from Manager.

Has she seen the light and given up on Rent Café or did she just want to be in control of the calendar?

That’s why Manager and Red Light could never get along ……… both wanted control.

I’ve also learned that’s what irked the usual suspects about Red Light. Only one actively complained about and campaigned against her, but it’s being said more than one felt annoyed, because she was coming to bingo not as a visitor, but as though she was still running things.

And that’s the tea.

The Window

TinTin’s window has gone through several transformations.

There was this first one.

Then a second.

A third last week.

Seeing our formerly Assistant Maintenance Guy, recently promoted to Head Maintenance, in this area several times last few weeks, and once earlier today, I thought to myself "He has to see and be aware of this tacky looking madness".

Lo and Behold, a few hours later as I looked out the patio window around 6 p.m. this evening, I noticed I could actually see TinTin’s venetian blinds — all the cardboard, fabric and whatever else she had covering her window had been removed.

Maybe Head Maintenance Guy said something to TinTin after all, or reported it to the Complex Manager and she told TinTin it’s not a good look for the quad, take it down.

The window is still not a hundred percent, as it appears some of what TinTin had stuck to the window is not coming off, or she's added something new.

I originally thought perhaps it was a shadow produced by the way the sun is hitting, but no. The sun went down, the shadow remains.

Even with whatever it is that's stuck to the window, it looks better than any of the other transformations TinTin came up with for whatever reason.

Time is flying by. Yesterday was already the one-year anniversary of the Alabama Boat Brawl.

It was way too hot to wear my commemorative shirt — the one honoring the symbol (the folding chair) of when those racists boaters FAFO, and though I was not aware of any celebratory activities near here there was a commemorative walk in Alabama, along the site of the riverboat brawl.

During yesterday’s workout, Trainer asked, "Can I tell you something and you not get mad?".

"Sure" said I.

"You promise you won’t get mad?".

"I promise".

At that point, I wasn't sure where he was going with this, but begin to worry maybe he was raising his prices or, for whatever reason, was going to have to drop me as a client.

Assured that whatever he had to say I'd not get mad, he said "Okay, Now don't get mad".

Trainer is not into politics, says he doesn’t care who’s in power as he doesn’t feel it will make his life better or worse. He doesn’t care, and I can’t blame him, because I had that same mindset my whole entire life. That is until No. 45 was such an embarrassment and irritation that I registered to vote just to help get rid of him.

Trainer is well aware I am not a fan, knows I have a voodoo doll and have nothing nice to say about that fool.

So, after ensuring I’d not get angry, Trainer says, he heard No. 45 say something that made sense to him. It was something about Kamala identifying as Indian, but now saying she’s Black.

THAT made sense to Trainer?

He’s probably been kicked in the head one to many times in Muay Thai competitions, but okay.

Didn’t bother me one bit.

I simply said, "I don’t care if she identifies as a purple frog. I’ll vote for anyone who is not him".

THAT ended that, so he went on to tell me how great the Deadpool and Wolverine movie is.

Fake Day

Also known as Leap Day and the last day to wear my Colors ...... the Black History Month tops I purchased last year.

Long Sleeved Sweatshirt for Cold Days

Short Sleeved Tee for Moderate Days

Because I art myself through makeup and clothing, tomorrow I'll be painting my nails green, pull from the closet my four-leaf clover tee and locate that tube of green lipstick.

Coming back from yesterday’s workout, I got a good look at the damage done to the carport area by that tow truck driver.

Tow Guy chewed up the wood pretty good, but it doesn’t appear to be enough damage to bring down the carport.

I imagine significant scraping damage was done to the paint job on the jeep, maybe even an indentation.

Curious to know if the jeep’s owner can sue the tow company for damage, I asked Google.

The answer was yes "A towing company must use reasonable care when towing and storing your car. If it fails to act as a reasonably prudent towing company in the same and similar circumstances and damages your car or your property inside it, you may be able to sue for negligence".

Inasmuch as management has a contract with the tow company, I imagine there's some liability on the part of management. However, inasmuch as the jeep's owner, and his gaggle of guys weren't to be living here, I don't see the resident housing them allowing anyone to make a big deal of the jeep's damage for fear of eviction in retaliation.

Worst case scenario, and I wouldn't put it past management, is to have the damaged wood repaired and bill the resident.

'Twas a Dark and Rainy Day

This first day of Black History Month has been wet and gloomy, as a storm rolled in to ruin the perfect sunny weather we’ve been having last few days.

I am so glad I didn’t register for Sunday’s 5k at the Runway of Ontario Airport, as it’s likely to be rained out when the second phase of this rain storm hits the area over the weekend.

Desperate for a walking event, I came close to registering but held out because of the parking situation that once the lot closest to the event was full, a lot located a couple blocks away would be made available and registrants would be shuttled to the event.

I once got lost in that airport — barriers and miles to a turnaround area, when I went to pick Twin 2 up from a trip. So I know "a couple blocks" means miles and miles and miles.

No thanks to be stranded away from the event, dependent upon a shuttle.

Even though the event is only a 30 minute drive, I might have sprung for a hotel, so I didn’t have to worry about parking, but there were no hotels close enough to allow me to get to the event without driving.

My only other option was to arrive early, around 5:30/6:00 a.m., to ensure a spot in Lot 1, which would have meant a long wait for the 8:00 a.m. start time.

Last time I did that was 2015 for the Halloween Spooktacular up in the mountains of San Dimas, but I no longer have the energy or motivation to arrive before the sun comes up, so I waffled, didn’t register and, last time I checked, the event was sold out.

I actually was rather relieved that I no longer had to ponder whether I should register or not, because "sold out" meant I couldn't; and now that the weather has taken a turn, I’m glad I didn't waste money on an event likely to be rained out — which has happened more than a few times.

Besides, in my constant search for a 5K nearby, I see the Kappa Delta sorority is bringing the Shamrock 5K back to the university in March.

The college is a stone throw’s away from the complex, has plenty of parking so, barring any unforeseen circumstances, it will be my second time participating in that 5K.

I recall the event being boring … entertainment at the finish line, but no entertainment along the course. However, who knows, this being the first in person race at the college since the pandemic, maybe the sorority will step it up, but even if they don’t, it will feel good to get out walking in a safe space again, even if only for one morning.

Organizers have already opened registration for this year’s Mission Inn October Run, but not being the spring chicken I once was, and the struggle being real, even with the walking poles last time, I’ll have to think about my ability to give it another go.

After tossing those really great walking poles by mistake, I did replace them, but not without going through the same hoops as before.

I couldn’t remember where I’d bought them from, so tried a retailer I thought would have been the source.

Wrong. I ended up with the poles I didn’t like, the ones that wouldn’t lock, so returned them.

Second try, I got the right retailer but somehow ordered the wrong product. I ended up with a cane.

It’s a really good cane, so I’m hanging on to it just in case I one day need it or can gift to someone else.

Third try was a win win — correct poles and, instead of a boring one color, in a pretty ombre coloration.

Looks like I’ll have to wait until March to test them out.

The Great Inspection

My wish for a break from Red Light came true, as I’ve not heard her voice, have not seen hide nor hair of her all week.

Tomorrow is bingo Friday, so whatever spell has been cast, that kept her quiet, will then come to an end.

Heading out for yesterday’s workout, I spied the inspectors, walking around with their little clipboards, being accompanied by an uncomfortable looking Head Maintenance Guy.

Smiling to myself, at seeing HMG looking uncomfortable, transmitted itself, because HMG turned, looked at me, smiled, kind of shrugged his shoulders — like, oh well.

One of the inspectors also turned, saw me, smiled, said "hello".

They looked to be heading for Shadow’s unit and probably chose him because of his American flag.

The two inspectors — who looked like tough guy Union Representatives, seemed like the kind of guys who would appreciate seeing an American Flag, have probably served in one branch of the military or another, would be curious to see and talk to the resident of that unit.

Shadow’s story — if you believe it, is that he was a sniper in the Army, bragged about being a Purple Heart recipient, only I couldn’t find him listed in the National Purple Heart Hall of Honor site.

The flag on his patio leads me to believe he did serve, very possibly could have been a sniper, but he certainly was no Officer or a Gentleman because, after he pulled my use-to-be friend The Seer into his web, he went around bragging to the guys about "how fast she dropped her panties" for him.

Inasmuch as the inspectors were only one building over when I left for yesterday’s workout, upon returning, I checked with Next Door Neighbor to see if they’d entered my place while I was gone and/or inspected hers.

Not yet. Instead, I saw them hopscotching, later in the day, to other buildings.

Next Door Neighbor took the opportunity of my knocking on her door, asking about the inspectors, to invite me in, reassure her …… as if she really needed any reassurances.

As I’ve previously blogged, that tacky doormat of hers belies the fact that the inside of her unit is breathtaking, like a museum.

What she asked me, as she walked around naming objects as being a fancy brand name this, a fancy brand name that, brand names that are so far above me that I’ve never heard of them, was "Is my unit okay for Section 8?".

"Are you kidding? Your unit looks like a museum. You have exquisite taste and probably the most beautifully decorated unit in the complex".

I meant it, even though I wasn’t impressed with the brand name bed, mattress, dressers, armoire, wall art, etc. she so proudly pointed out — some collected when married to her high ranking military officer husband, who provided her with a fancy lifestyle, servants, but whom she divorced because he was a wife beater.

Thinking about that conversation this morning, the way my non-impressive This End Up, Pier 1, Walmart, Target furnishings/decor doesn’t compare, it occurred to me THAT may be how she ended up on Section 8 — the materialistic need to continue the lifestyle she once had … bring in, own, showcase top of the line, most expensive this that the other.

So, anyway, with seven more days of inspections to go, the guys may get to this building yet.

Along with their looking like tough guy Union Representatives, the two inspectors had GQP Republican vibes, which means they’re not gonna like my can’t miss seeing anti Inmate# P01135809 cups and voodoo doll.

In other news, granddaughter sent me a t-shirt commemorating the August 5th Alabama Boat Brawl.

Front

I pimped it up a bit by adding my chair training photo.

Back

Pink is Not My Color

I am definitely not a pink person but, for these folding chair earrings, I’m making an exception.

In other news ... according to what I've been reading, No. 45 will be both fingerprinted and mugshot this Thursday.

Fourth time may be the charm. I may yet get that mug shot t-shirt I've been craving.

And For My Next Trick

Ending racism, one chair at a time.

Oops, I Did it Again

Seems I got a week ahead of myself in pronouncing Activity Director’s End of Summer Luncheon. That event is not until next Tuesday — still five or six weeks before the actual end of summer, but whatever.

Today, thus far, has been a disappointment insofar as Indictment/Arraignment No. 4. I’ve seen no news as to what if anything is going on with No. 45 showing up at the Fulton County courthouse.

I did however run across news that Thao, the former cop who held back bystanders while Chauvin murdered George Floyd was sentenced to an additional 4.75 years in prison on state charges for holding back those concerned citizens, including a first responder — an off-duty firefighter who walked up on the scene, identified herself, asked to be allowed to provide aid to Floyd.

The arrogance Thao displayed toward that first responder with his "If you are who you say you are, then you know not to get involved", disturbed me just as much as Chavin’s actions, so these additional years — to run concurrent with the three and a half years he’s already serving on federal charges for depriving Floyd of his civil rights, are well deserved.

Thao’s continuing arrogance is still on display with his statement at this latest sentence that he’s grown in his "Christian faith" while in prison (don't they all) and that "I did not commit these crimes. My conscience is clear. I will not be a Judas nor join a mob in self-preservation or betray my God".

Spare me!

Do your time, be grateful you didn’t get life and wake the f*ck up.

And speaking of arrogance, just how arrogant and privileged can a person be to think they can park their pontoon in a place designated on a dock for the Riverboat. THEN, not only refuse to untie and move your boat when the dock employee asks you to so the Riverboat can come in and while folks on the Riverboat are chanting the line "Move b*tch get outta the way" from Ludacris' song at you. THEN, when the dock employee goes to untie your pontoon himself, you assault him. THEN seven more of your arrogant privileged friends pile on this one dock employee and begin to beat, kick, assault him.

How arrogant and privileged in your thinking must you be to think that any of this is okay for you to do?

Tee shirts are already out commemorating those who stepped up and revoked that privilege card.

There’s also talk of making August 5 an unofficial holiday.

I imagine some of those who stepped up will need bail money and lawyers — for sure Chair Guy will need bail and a lawyer.

I stand ready to donate to legitimate gofunds and hopefully lawyers will step up pro bono.

He’s Heeeeeere

It was a downpour yesterday afternoon when the new resident of that bad energy unit moved in.

The new tenant is not at all the "big guy" Head Maintenance Guy described. Instead, he’s average height, average weight, but does appear healthy — walks quickly, no visible physical challenges.

I’d say his moving in during a rainstorm is a bad omen as to how things are going to go in that unit, except it was exactly like the day when I moved in eleven years ago.

It was impossible for my movers to work in those conditions, so they struck a deal to set up a bed for me in the bedroom, come back the next day when the weather was expected to cooperate, and I’d not get charged for an extra day.

So, that night, after going to the drugstore on the corner to buy towels so I could bathe in the morning, toothpaste, toothbrush and a sleepshirt; and after a friend I had in the area took me to dinner that night, I was snug as a bug in bed and it was all good.

Fortunately, I’d transported the makeup kit in the car with me. So, no problem making myself presentable that next morning.

As for the downpour that day back in 2012, I’d not seen it as a bad omen. Instead, I saw it as a new beginning, a washing away of all the bad stuff I’d experienced the year before moving in.

New guy persisted with his move yesterday, horrible weather be damned.

He and his helpers brought in boxes that looked wet by the time they reached the stairs and items wrapped in black plastic bags.

The truck was parked for over three hours at the end of the drive.

At least now, when Red Light hears footsteps overhead, she can convince herself it’s the new tenant and not something spooky — even if she hears footsteps when he’s not at home.

In other news, that blackity black black tee I’m looking forward to purchasing for next year was so popular that the seller restocked in my size. So, even though Black History Month is over tomorrow, I’ll have the tee. 

In addition, I also ordered one that simply says, "I’m Black All the Time" that I can wear all-year long and tease trainer with.

When I didn’t get off the bike and make it to the slam ball bench fast enough in Monday’s session, Trainer said, "Not fast enough" and reiterated the rule is 5 seconds to transition from one to the other.

I snapped back with "It’s still Black History Month. I don’t have to follow rules". To which he replied, "Okay, but come Wednesday your arse is mine".

My walking in wearing the "Black All the Time" top will make for a great comeback when I need one. 

March 12th is our 4-Year Anniversary. Trainer has lasted longer than any man in my life.

Alas Poor Olaf

The above is all that was left of Olaf (named after the snowman in Frozen) when I woke up yesterday.

Saturday’s snow was replaced by the return of rain later that afternoon, washed away all our lovely snow, and what was once my little snowman Olaf was just ribbon and a sliver of ice on Sunday.

I don’t know what happened to his little carrot nose. Maybe the rain washed it away.

There was a break in the rain early yesterday, so I was able to make it to the mall, pick up my orders.

Because our mail carriers can’t be trusted to put the key to the package lockbox in the correct mail slot, when items ordered offer the option to "mail to or pick up" and it's possible to get to the location, I've been opting for pick up.

With orders I can't possibly get to the location, I pay extra for a delivery service to leave at my door, bypass the postal service completely, and sometimes that goes awry as well.

Pick up can be kind of a pain, but mail delivery has gotten so bad, since our regular mail lady went missing on us (new route or quit ???), that some residents have not only complained to the main post office — to no avail, but complained directly to the mail carriers, also to no avail.

Some have requested the post office "hold" packages for them to pick up at the main post office, so the carrier can’t get his/her hands on the packages, screw delivery up.

So, anyway, I took advantage of the brief respite from the rain, drove to the mall.

Those store designers are some smart cookies. The pickup counter was positioned way in the back of the store.

I had to walk pass clothes, shoes, jewelry.

My daily uniform is tees and leggings, Birkenstocks and Asics athletic shoes, so the store designers' manipulation didn't get me.

That is until I spotted jewelry — 50% off.

I ended up with two new pair of earrings before reaching the pickup counter where ... what did I see right next to the line but this display.

Genius placement, but how did they know I have a new great grandbaby?

Which one do you think I bought?

I’ll have to find a reason to travel to Long Beach, give the baby his shirt before he’s walking, talking, heading to college — grown too big for the tee.

Heading out of the mall, seeing the See’s Candy store sign, of course I popped in.

Walking out of See's, bag of candy in hand, I looked up and saw a shop that looked interesting.

"May I help you", asks the lady in the shop when she sees me looking at medieval pocketknives.

"No thanks. I'm just browsing".

"Are you interested in knives?"

"Not really, but the knives did make me think about the dogs that just attacked and killed a man out walking".

"You might be interested in this if you're thinking about protecting yourself from bad dogs" and she showed me a stylish looking walking stick.

Priced at $55, I wasn't interested. Not even when she said she could do $30 on it, but then she pulled off the tip and exposed a sharp tool for protection from bad boys and bad dogs.

Tip On

Tip Off

This stick won't get me up the Devil's Canyon Road incline. For that I will need the trekking poles. However, this stick will make me feel safer so that I can go back to the walks I used to take around the neighborhood until knife guy scared me off that route.

I don't think I'll be facing any bad boys or bad dogs on Devil's Canyon Road, but I've got pepper spray and a taser just in case.

So many weapons ... in the unit, in the car, in my fanny pack, in my jacket pocket, even in my hand while walking to the mailbox or car but, if you're paying attention, listening to or reading the news, bad things are happening everywhere to those who are going about their daily business unprepared, seemingly unaware that the world is no longer a safe place.

The elderly and mothers getting in/out of their cars, distracted with small children in tow, seem to be the current targets.

We were just in the news two weeks ago for a stabbing unaliving at the gas station on the corner, followed by a carjacking by the perp and a hot two-day pursuit.

I stayed inside, so no photos for you, but Trainer said the gas station had been corded off with that tape they use and, from inside my unit, it sounded like every cop car in the world was racing up/down the street.

So, one has to be on his/her toes, take nothing and no one for granted. Be aware of surroundings, walk cautiously and, in my case, carry a big stick, pepper spray and a taser.

This has been a public service announcement.

On the way out of the mall, I paused too long in front of Bath & Body Works, got lured in and walked out with a Strawberry Daiquiri scented candle.

The cashier said it’s the kind of scent that I could relax with a glass of wine, the lights down low and before she could finish, I added "With my Magic Mike DVD playing".

She cracked up.

So now, after a weekend of rain, snow, rain, shopping, though it's dry outside for the moment, on we go to another week of expected rain and the end to Black History month.

I didn't have a special shirt for Black History Month, as I do for Pride and St. Patrick's Day, but I’ve picked out the shirt I want for next year.

I’d buy it now, but they’ve sold out in my size. So, I’ll just have to keep an eye out for next year.

Black History Parade

Driving to the Farmer’s Market, to soak up the sun, listen to music, was preempted today by an appointment at the Tire Place to check that tire I’d gotten an alert on back in December.

Though the kid at the Air Check Station said "It’s probably just the cold weather", I’d been keeping an eye on the pressure, saw that tire lost air just a tad sooner than it should AND with the possibility of a drive out of town in the not-too-distant future for a three-day meditation retreat, figured I’d better get the tire properly looked after.

Arriving at the location, I saw barriers preventing my turning into the plaza housing the Tire Place and other businesses.

Then I saw people marching down the street.

Though the manner of dress didn’t seem appropriate for what I'd assumed were demonstrators protesting Russia invading Ukraine, I was sorry I’d not heard of it so I could have made arrangements to join them.

Then I saw a blinking street sign indicating "Black History Parade".

The clothing made sense.

Inasmuch as I was barred from reaching my destination, what I should have done was to turn right — the only direction allowed to proceed in, pull over and park in that shopping center, watched the parade.

That’s not what happened.

Instead, I wasted 30 minutes of my life driving around, stuck in traffic with people who, just like me, were trying to find ways around the parade, get to our destination. One I gave up, found my way back to where I'd left off, with plans to park, watch the parade, I found the parade had ended and I could now turn left into the plaza.

Guys at the tire place found a "Tiny nail" in the tire. No charge for repair and, when I asked why, "We don’t charge for minor fixes as a way to drum up business".

Works for me, though just the fact I can pull in and get a free air check is incentive enough for me to buy my tires from them.

While waiting for the repair, thinking there probably would be entertainment at the parade’s end, I checked Google information as to where the parade began, where it would end.

Lo and behold, I was there, at the parade's end.

It was just a few feet away, across the parking lot in front of Home Depot.

Who knew?

"Rich Boy Sandwich" sounds interesting, but $20 sandwiches??? I don't think so.

Others didn't mind. The line was long and unending.

Our Brown brothers and sisters participated in the parade and provided entertainment.

Little Miss Black Awareness Queen.

I was raised in the church but, opting to walk the road of a contemplative, one who meditates, I haven't been inside a church in more years that I can remember. I do recall, however, that Praise Dancing was just beginning in the churches, as my church days were ending.

For those of you who are not familiar with the words "Praise Dancing", it's a form of worship. Praise Dancers use their bodies to express the word and spirit of God.

The roaring sound you'll hear in the Praise Dancing videos is the wind, which was blowing something fierce in that area.

All in all, it looks like, thanks to that slow leak, I was in the right place today.

Getting Worse Out There

I don’t know if it was a response to my spontaneous plea of "Oh Lord have mercy Jesus, I’m soooo tired!!!" that I sent out into the Universe at Monday’s workout, or if I somehow disconnected from whomever I was channeling, but my energy level was back up and on point Wednesday morning.

I had a good day in the Pain Cave.

Since I was feeling it, I had hoped to put in some miles on the college campus yesterday, but the Santa Ana winds were prohibitive so, instead, it was needlepoint and watching recorded episodes of the exposé on Hugh Hefner — Secrets of Playboy.

Times have changed, we’ve all seen and heard a lot since then about how a celeb’s lecherous private life is hidden behind a fairly wholesome public persona. So, though interesting stuff is now coming out, it’s difficult to be shocked.

My friend Q worked for Playboy back in the day. I don’t recall his job position ─ maybe something to do with the magazine, but he told a funny story about leaving headquarters, headed for his car, and finding one of the bunnies on the ground, flat on her back, stuck under the rear of her VW Beetle.

As I remember the story, her car had been parked on a slope, she’d been leaving work as well, was standing behind the car and somehow the car rolled back, knocked her to the ground, began to roll over her, continue down the incline, but got stopped by her enormous implants.

The visual I got was a pretty little lady, covered in car up to her tatas.

Q is talking about arranging a little get-together. If and when that happens, since he tells the story better than I, I’ll get him to repeat on video and put the story on the blog.

A date took me a couple times to a Playboy Club.

I never saw anything like what the exposé is disclosing about how the bunnies were manhandled but, of course, I wouldn’t have. It was just dinner and a show.

Though the date (someone I knew in high school who was back courting me after my divorce) was trying to impress me that he had a Key — a membership, which is what one needed back then to get into the Playboy Clubs, I don’t recall being impressed.

It was just something to do, somewhere to be taken.

I will say this though, Hugh Hefner didn’t seem to discriminate.

During a period in life where there were very few places I could go and not be refused admittance or stared at for being out-of-place or treated differently, I felt completely comfortable and accepted in the Playboy Club. However, I had more fun when a group of work pals and I went to Chippendale’s one evening.

My buddy Apache was here yesterday. He’d dropped by to celebrate the birthday of D, the assault victim and that of a woman described as "The Little Helpful Lady" in the blog, because she was so helpful when we had activities — helping to set up, clean up, making birthday cakes.

Apache is spending so much time here that management might as well give him his unit back.

Not only is he spending a lot of time HERE, he’s trying to lure some of the residents to THERE — where he is. Wants them to take the shuttle to play bingo at his place since there are no activities here.

It appears he’s taking over as Activity Director as he’ll be back today to shuttle away a couple of residents to karaoke — another activity we used to have here, but no longer.

I’ve not heard of a new hire for the Manager position, but the job opening no longer appears on Corporate’s website.

Time will tell if a No. 9 is on the way and, if so, how long that person will last, but good luck to him/her and us.

Handsome Man is still in his unit, so I guess the fact that No. 8 is no longer here (the Tyrant) made all the difference for his circumstances.

It’s been a lousy Black History Month insofar as Black Lives Matter.

First there was the no-knock warrant murder of Amir Locke.

Then came the attempted murder of D’Monterrio Gibson, who was targeted for Working While Black.

In a case similar to the father/son McMichaels, who murdered Black jogger Ahmaud Arbery, FedEx driver D’Monterrio was chased and shot at by Brandon Case and his father Gregory Case. The Chases thought D’Monterrio looked suspicious while going about his job of delivering packages. Felt he didn’t belong in the neighborhood and I guess, in their minds, the right thing to do was to try to murder him.

Now we have two teens fighting at the mall ─ one White kid, one Black kid.

Guess which of the two was arrested.

When the cops arrived on the scene, the White kid was winning, looked to need no assistance from anyone as he was on top, had the Black kid pinned underneath, was whaling on him. The female cop drags the White kid off top of the Black kid, sits him down on the couch while her partner tackles the Black kid, still on the ground, flips him, puts his knee in his back, pulls out the handcuffs.

After sitting the White kid on the couch, the female cop turns her back on him, runs over to assist her partner in arresting the Black kid.

WTF!!!!!!!!

Adding insult to injury, while the cops are manhandling the Black Kid, in the full version of the video, you can see the White kid get off the couch, stand behind and over the cops, gleefully yelling the N-word at the Black kid.

We're never gonna catch a break. It's insane.

Ten more days until Black History Month ends. No truce in sight.

Race relations are getting worse, not better.

UPDATE:

Daunte's family is probably upset over the light sentence, but I ain't mad at this.

Everything’s Coming Up Virtual

Cinco de Mayo celebration passed me by yesterday and, because I can’t stand the smell of cheese, I didn’t even poke my head into the Community Room to see how the Nacho Social was going.

I did, however, pay homage to the day by having tacos for lunch -- that is, if you can call slapping leftover turkey chili into a gluten free corn tortilla shell, along with avocado, salsa and slaw a taco.

In addition, I had the same for dinner, except, I tried out a recipe for Coliflor Arroz Rojo, adding Mexican Cauliflower Rice to the meal.

The cauliflower rice was amazing. Had I not made it myself, I’d have thought I was eating one of those packages of Spanish Rice-A-Roni, that are so bad for you nutritionally speaking but which I was so fond of until angry gut changed my easy peasy pre-packaged lifestyle.

At any rate, that was my stress-free Cinco de Mayo, which may seem lonely and boring to others but surprisingly, the only times in my life when I felt lonely and/or bored has been in the company of others.

According to a flyer on the bulletin board, now that the Community Room television is back in business, in addition to bingo and the nacho social, the seniors were also scheduled to have a movie last night.

Content in my unit, plus I've seen it several times on television, I let Movie Night pass me by as well, but three events in one day … whew!

Gonna be some tired old folks walking around today.

Speaking of walking around …

I saw on Facebook this morning that Irvine California’s Great Donut Run 5K is offering a virtual this year.

Though it’s a party and always great fun to participate in person, it’s just not always feasible for me as I can’t hit the road at 4 a.m., drive a long distance AND participate that same morning. I need to rest. Consequently, I usually drive up the afternoon before and spend the night in a local hotel.

That’s fun too, but it was expensive, plus I got so tired of holding up medal ceremonies at races where everything was paused until the last runner/walker crossed the finished line and I was always the one to be last.

Even though I was 70, 71, 72 years of age at those times, and even though the other participants were supportive, standing around clapping me across the finish line, encouraging with “It’s not how fast you are, it’s that you finished”, and even though I was lucky and grateful to be able to accomplish such feats at my age, it was embarrassing, so I turned to virtuals.

Those virtuals seem to have caught on to where more and more of the races are now offering virtuals. Like last year’s Diva Run, Run Like a Diva, Black Girl’s Run and now this month’s Great Donut Run.

Everything's coming up virtual.

I’ve been out of commission on walking events since injuring my foot on uneven concrete, while participating with daughter at last year’s Mission Inn Run. I exacerbated the injury by ignoring the injury and participating with daughter in the Turkey Trot a few weeks later. The pain finally forced me to bow out of the Citrus Run and off walking events for the last six months. I kept active, however, by purchasing and putting together a Schwinn 130.

The foot feels ready to get off the bike and hit the concrete, so I registered as virtual for the May 21st Donut Run.

Looks like I get a t-shirt AND another cool medal for the board.

What I don’t get are donuts.

Those participating in person encounter donut stations along the course … Krispy Kreme no less.

Race organizers are also offering a Gluten Free Donut option -- “We will provide these specially formulated donuts … We've been testing these donuts all around town and we'll make sure they're as yummy as the rest of our donuts!"

There’s even a Donut Hole Zone near the half way point “where delicious donut holes will be passed out by our Donuteer Team!”

Sounds so fun that I was tempted to spring for a hotel and participate in person, but decided not to test my gut with gluten-free donuts and settled for a solo walk.

I’ve not been to the area of the local golf course for a while so, instead of the university campus, I’m envisioning a 3.12 mile route up a hill, down a hill and around perimeters of the golf course.