Maybe We Should Just Ride the Log One
A few weeks ago my dream came true. And yes, I did go to Kings Dominion. And yes, that was my dream. Throughout my 10 year amusement park hiatus I felt as though I was really missing out. I mean fun, adventure, shitty expensive food, people in wet t-shirts that you don’t want to see in wet t-shirts, giant stuffed things, games, adventure and fun again were all only 2 hours away – why the fuck wasn’t I in it? I now know why – it’s really not that cool.
A few things came up when deciding where to go – actually only two. 1) I wasn’t going to Six Flags even though it was ten times closer because quite frankly, I think it’s a fucking liability, and I definitely don’t like that old dancing man in their ads. 2) I only do luxury boats. Kings Dominion is the luxury boat of amusement parks. (what?)
A few things to keep in mind for anyone planning a visit:
(1) Find the Correct Entrance. I somehow managed to enter the park from the back. This was no easy task because EVERYTHING is clearly marked and directional signage is phenomenal. By doing so, I found the park employee entrance and pulled up to a guy standing in the middle of a random asphalt entrance and whipped out my pre-printed parking pass and ID.
“Hello, here is my parking pass and my ID.” (I have no idea why I showed him my ID – maybe because the cars in front of us were showing their actual employee badges…..I dunno.)
“Hello. Are you a employee here?”
“Well, no but I have this parking pass. See here is the date and the confirmation number.”
I pointed to today’s date and also to the long number at the bottom. The man looked at me like I had nipples for eyes.
“Okay….but this is the employee entrance….how did you even get here?”
I smiled, popped a u-ey and high tailed out of there. I didn’t feel like explaining what an idiot I was and there was really no explanation.
(2) Timing Is important. For us, it was opening weekend and we wanted to get there butt early so we did BUTT it was too early and we arrived even before the parking lot was open. We thought the cashier lady was just taking a really long time to collect money from the cars but we were in a line of people who just parked in front of the park to get the best parking (park, parking, park, park). I had already paid for and printed out my parking ticket so I didn’t even need any of dat shiatt. Being that early is just stupid so we left to get Chik-fil-A. When we got back the parking attendants were letting people in. Yes! this would be the appropriate time to source my parking pass. I handed it to the gentlemen and he said thank you and raised the electronic bar partition.
“Don’t I need a ticket from you or anything to put on my windshield?”
To which he responded, “??????” “No. You just go in now…”
We zoomed up to the front, parked, and then stood in line again by foot because this time the parking lot was open but the actual park wasn’t. 15 minutes later we were granted access and thought to take a photo at the entrance which is seen below. I have no idea who the child is.
(3) Ride choice and Sequence. Upon finally entering, the game plan was to head straight to the back of the park to work in the opposite direction of everyone else (fucking genius). Also, the back of the park is where all the really heady rides are too (heady is my new cool word that I now overuse). In a record 35 minutes, we had gone on the Volcano, the Blast Coaster, Anaconda, Flight of Fear, Scrambler, and the Hurler. The only time we had to wait was on the Volcano when an adult male had puked while on the ride which meant twelve hours of decontamination. He continued puking over the railing when he got off as his suffocating girlfriend rubbed his back. The comments and jabs that came from the other riders was unbelievable to the point where some middle schoolers were yelling, “He hasn’t even gone yet!” “Pussy” “Fucking Light Weight” “Idiot!” I’m not sure why he’s an idiot but you get the point – it was brutal. We jumped on one more so we would beat the lines heading our way and we chose the Intimidator 305. This reckless metal destroyer goes 305 feet and 90 mph making it one of the tallest and fastest coasters in the world. All I know is we blacked out afterwards with severe migraines and complete loss of equilibrium. Feeling extremely ill, we took a nap in a flower bed in Candy Apple Grove which was delightful.
(4) Ride the Water Log. The whole time. I must say the most pleasant experience of the trip was the water log ride. It involves everything that is good.
Your transportation is a hollowed out log.
Yes, fantastic choice. Check.
You get whisked away to an old mining town.
Love a vintage theme. Check.
Water gently splashes when your log turns a corner.
Water spritzes? Refreshing and delightful. Check.
There are absolutely zero surprises.
Predictable log. I love you. Check.
After the log ride we thought to head over to the Water Park to continue with our tranquil water state. We walked around a bit and saw some lawn chairs by the side of the Lazy River. There was nothing lazy about that river. It looked hectic as hell. We sat down next to an intercom that was yelling the rules of the Lazy River into our faces every 3 minutes. Regardless, we both passed out. I had dreams of being on the log river and mining gold. Two hours later we awoke from slumber – we decided that we should head home and could probably just sleep there. So basically, we went to Kings Dominion and slept.
This Week in the Worst of Online Dating…
Actual messages from randoms but not actual responses – I’m not an asshole.
“How about if I’m on the shorter side and really dig tall girls? I’m smart, weird, hilarious, and I also can not remember the last time I was angry. We’d get along. Let’s be mischievous and make the most of today, what do you say?”
“Serious question: You are taking me out for sushi (for one reason or another) I am starving. You just got back from the gym and you need to get ready. How long would it take?”
A) 30 min, you look hot and I cant keep my hands off you
B) 15 min and you look pretty cute
C) 2 hours and I die from starvation
What the hell. Why is this happening?
And my answer is:
D) You can take your twisted ass math problems and get fuck’d.
“Is it just the full moon, or do you turn into a stone cold fox every night of the week? Lol no but really, how’s it going?”
Dammit. That’s a good one.
You didn’t even have time to write “ur?”
“Wake up in the AM, compose a tweet.”
I’m sorry, I don’t understand…are you selling something or speaking?
“They say your choice in food tells a lot about you: given a choice between strawberries or oreos, which do you pick? Why?”
I think you’re just trying to figure out if I’m fat. Are they double stuffed oreos? Or, they just came out with Oreo stuffed Oreos. Why? Because have you ever eaten a cookie stuffed cookie?
“spying me? Lol ;)”
Haha no, I’m not spying you lol…. Wait, what the hell?
” 😉 “
What are we winking at?
G’day mate! 😉 If you are really 6’0″ tall…we owe it to the world and the NBA to get to know each other! :))
Actually, I lied about my height (why the hell would I do that?) and I don’t owe the NBA shit, let alone a giant athlete baby.
I normally don’t contact anyone on here unless I think we have common grounds and is an interesting person. I think you fit the kind of woman that I like spending my time with and would like to get to know. So if you never dated a Haitian guy who speak Creole and French, CONFIDENT,takes trip to Europe every year, has a great career, run his own business, driven, love life to the fullest, spontaneous, and a true Capricorn, then let’s give this a try. Let’s not wait too long because im just giving this site a try and may no longer be here.
A few things:
– Well, yes that is the point of contacting people on this – why would you contact someone you have nothing in common with and is boring as shit?
– Creole is basically French so let’s not flatter ourselves and lead people to believe we are bilingual.
– What the ass does a “true Capricorn” mean? That you’re a goat?
You seem really CONFIDENT. I think you’ll be fine with me not responding.
Hey, I saw your profile and thought I should say hi!
Just to be up-front, I’m a married guy looking for a bit of a fling, hopefully with someone friendly and fun to be around. My apologies if you’re not at all interested in this. Happy to chat either way.
“A bit of a fling” You mean like an affair? You cant call it a “fling” when you’re married. And next time you think you “should say hi!”, say hi to your wife. ooooohhhhh #youjustgotserved
I Think That Was One of Those Mind Fucks
ADD testing: Real? Or Mind Fuck? I would have to argue strongly on the side of mind fuck. As a member of the Attention Deficit Disorder community, I am appalled at the kind of weird-ass, convoluted, deranged, mind penetrating testing we are forced to endure. I left the neurology center feeling more confused and distracted than ever. Mainly because I will never actually know what the hell went on in that room – if I “passed” or if I’m mentally incontinent.
I’m going to back up for a moment and start from the beginning…….
In 2011, my general practitioner prescribed me adderall when I came to her with concerns of not being able to fucking do anything. I was leaving the states to get my master’s and I thought for sure I would fail if I was not only going to be taking courses in Australia but I also get easily distracted by anything that is shimmery or creates some kind of noise. She sympathized with my condition and while looking at my aggressively tapping toe, prescribed me 30 mg of adderall a day for the next year. So, I filled a prescription of 600 pills and a years worth of birth control and flew over to Australia where I set up an international drug trade. Kidding, I actually needed both things quite imperatively and took them as instructed but that would have been dope. In class on adderall I felt as though I was some kind of baby genius hybrid like a philosopher/scientist or a spaceship/sea manatee (I know…crazy right?) I could now actually accomplish things and not twiddle off into girl thoughts of puppies and hot pink. I was banging out projects, ordering people around, writing 10,000 word essays and realizing my full potential. Adderall saved me from selling gimp bracelets under a boardwalk somewhere to make money for crack. Actually, I probably wouldn’t be that bad off but you get my drift.
After graduating, I went to that same doctor to refill my prescriptions as I did every three months when I was back stateside. Everything panned out well as I was able to work in an office and pay attention to people’s faces when they spoke. Suddenly, my doctor stopped practicing and I was forced to see an alternate doctor in the practice to refill my prescriptions. This doctor was a conservative pompus prick (he was actually really nice…I just couldn’t pronounce his name which pisses me off). Anyways, Doctor GoFuckChoSelf told me that I wasn’t properly tested for ADD and because adderall was a controlled substance I would have to undergo actual testing to verify that I did indeed have ADD. Throughout that conversation, all I was thinking was what flavor Jolly Rancher I would grab from the candy dish out by the receptionist…”jolly”…”rancher”…has such a delightful ring to it. Geezus. I have ADD. I cant even pay attention to a conversation about me not paying attention. I thought this was all very redundant but I agreed that I would go get “properly tested” and so made an appointment with another doctor who’s name I couldn’t fucking pronounce.
Appointment Day. I walked into the building and passed the office I was supposed to go in 3 or 4 times until I finally figured out that it was not the janitor’s closet and entered. I rushed across the large waiting room to the counter and immediately started to apologize for being 15 minutes late. The lady said, “Who are you?” I said my name and my favorite color. She said, “Okay….. fill out this 14 page form and answer the questions on the back page. You must answer ALL of the questions on the BACK PAGE!!” Geezus, okay….97 hours later…I walked back up with the form and emphasized the back portion with a Vanna-White-like hand wave circulating around the written text, “See? All filled out…all four of them.” She said thanks and asked me to please sit down and to stop crowding the window.
Twenty-five minutes later my name was called and I followed the nurse back to the doctor’s office – or who I thought was the nurse – according to her visual measurements she might have been a bridge troll. Regardless, she was very nice and sat me down in an office filled with framed accreditation’s, degrees, and two trolls on a shelf – how very fitting I thought. There wasn’t any reading material so I read a poster on the wall 14 times and then tried to nap.
Very suddenly, the doctor walked in and jetted straight for his chair on the other side of the room. He sat down facing my direction, legs casually sprawled about and stared directly at me. Saying nothing. I looked around…is this the test? Am I currently inside of the test? Should I start speaking? Or would I then be testing you? What the fuck is happening? Finally, he acknowledged me and asked me why I was there. I told him the whole long story about already being on adderall and yada yada but I was here now because Dr. UnpronouncableLongAssName instructed me to be. He nodded and then asked me to sit on the examination table with that stupid parchment paper that always sticks to the back of your legs.
In one whisk of his arm he started blinking his hands like a traffic light and then asked me to concentrate on his nose – this happened 3 or 4 times. After whatever the hell that was, he tapped my ankles and knees with a vibrating metal rod and then asked me to walk heel-to-toe across the room. As he was writing notes, he forgot to tell me to stop so I heel-toed the fuck out of the whole room until finally he laughed and told me I could have stopped along time ago. I’m glad this is all very amusing.
I sat back down and had more blinking hands shoved in my face and a lot more of pointing at different objects in the room and again at his nose. After one more gratuitous poke/flick on the shoulder he abruptly left room WITHOUT SAYING A WORD. I felt like I had just been raped with my clothes on. I sat there waiting for what was to come next and not knowing if I should leave a pee sample or just continue to stand. WHAT THE FUCK WAS HAPPENING? Just as I was really about to lose it, he walked back into the room with a clipboard and mentioned that he would have to ask me some more questions (a simple note of that earlier would have been helpful for my overall sanity.) And so begins the ridiculous questioning:
Do you find yourself talking a lot?
Do you interrupt people when they.. (yes.) ….are talking?
The answer is yes.
Do you find yourself easily distracted?
When in situations that you prefer not to be in do you run or climb trees?
Okay, well, how do I answer this…I do not currently climb trees, no. Is that something I should be doing?
Now, my questions for the doctor:
Were these questions drafted in the mid 70’s?
Is this a children’s exam?
What is this? A brain center for ants?
Example of how ridiculous the questions were:
WTF? After all of the questions that essentially just repeated themselves – he had come to the conclusion that I had ADD/ADHD and that I was properly prescribed adderall.
Well, thank you. So you’re telling me that I spent three hours in this office only for you to come to the same conclusion that another doctor did two years ago? Hmmmmm….. if I had known that I could make millions (exaggeration) by asking people Disney pop-quiz questions from a clipboard, ding-ing people on the elbow, and diagnosing them with things they already knew they had, I would have gone into neurology.
Well, okay…. that happened. I’m leaving. Never to return. I left the room in a huff feeling pissed off. In anger, I circled the hallways huffing and stomping around until I found the exit to the reception area. “SEE YOU NEVER!” I told the troll, “Except I need to make a completely superfluous check up appointment for three months from now.
Standard Practices of Constantly Living in a State of Embarrasment
A few things happened this week that I believe do not happen to others but strictly and violently only to me:
1. I was walking out of the metro and didn’t realize that one of the street vents blows a 50 mph wind out of it thus creating a tornado effect. While wearing an easy breezy chiffon dress feeling confident, I marched directly across said vent in front of what seemed like every single person who lives in a quarter mile radius sitting at Columbia Heights metro (20-30 people with nothing to do but stare). My dress instantly flew up – so violently that it got stuck to my face so I couldn’t pull it down for a solid 10 seconds and ended up just pulling at my hair and marching in place. For some idiotic reason, I didn’t think to move myself off the effing’ vent. I was alone and standing with a group of strangers staring at my bare pale ass. I had no one to laugh it off with so I did that weird giggle to yourself while randomly deciding to go for a jog to exit the scene quicker. Just as I was making my jog exit the walk sign turned red so I had to stand on the corner for an extra 3 minutes, shameful and buttless.
2. In retrieving ice from the ice maker, I opened the freezer door in such a way that it slammed into my right eye, bruising it quite badly. Lamest. black eye story. ever.
3. I managed to elbow my dental hygienist in the face, hard. Enough so that her plastic wood carving goggles flew off and sprung under the curtain into where the patient next door was sitting. She still said I’m a phenomenal flosser but also an asshole with much too pointy elbows. And too tall.
4. I was close-lined by a parking- gate-beam. I’m not sure how this actually happens to a person……
5. Hit in the face by one of those banner people that swirl around the cardboard cutouts while jamming to music. The pointy edge none the less.
6. Bought a vibrator and broke it immediately – having to return it the next day. It was faulty, but still……really>?
7. Lastly, I was waiting for a meeting with a vendor and when he arrived from the elevator doors I followed him into the men’s restroom thinking it was his office.
A Public Pool-(p) Story
I have returned to the motherland. Coming home to Washington, D.C. in July is what my mom calls a “hardship post” (which I looked up and is an overseas post where living conditions are difficult due to climate, crime, health care, pollution or other factors, soooo that’s that..) Its humid as shit like someone is constantly lightly spitting on your face and its typically 104 degrees. With this extreme heat comes the endless search for a pool membership. Half of my street is part of one town and the half I live on is apart of something else, I don’t even know what.. but I think we have our own mayor which is the lamest thing to be a mayor of, ever. “Top of the day to ye, Mayor Grimsby, what will you being doing this year on your half a street? There was talk of a speed bump”(I don’t know why but I always think mayors are English). Its weird. Anywhos we, on this end of the street are not belonging to any pool. Even when the top half of the street has block parties I am not sure we can attend which is awkward because I live on a dead-end street. So, not only are we not allowed to join in the block party festivities of hot dogs, Ben and Jerry’s ice cream and a moon bounce but we cannot leave. It’s like a strange suburbia modern-day punishment of sorts, “Hey look, its our block party, you can’t come and you can’t go anywhere else so just observe from a far bitches” (wha?). Anyways, this is where I live and we have also not be assigned to a pool which sucks, hard. In such case we go to the public pool which is basically like saying, “Yea, you know what? I’m just going to head off for a swim in a large basin of piss for an hour and probably be thrown up on while my clothes get stolen from the changing room.” Eff’ it, its hot and my mom has a 10 visits pass.
It’s blistering hot we head over to the pool on our bikes. My mom takes in her bike basket for fear it will be vandalized or stolen by hooligans. In we go, me, my mom and the basket. We swivel through this kind of rotating metal round about gate that looks like it’s from the dark ages. The changing room is set up in a prison like fashion with just a cement room, shower heads sticking out of the walls and a few lost bars of soap. That’s it. We decided we would go over to the lap pool because there is a decreased risk of contracting Hepatitis A. As we walk over this lady sneaks up behind me and yells in my ear “WHERE DID YOU GET YOUR POOL WRAP!!!” (Oh, hello there, you are right here, and very close to me) “Oh! hi, ummm Loehman’s in 2007 I think” “WOW, its amazing. Like, I just want a plain one because my bathing suits are really colorful and most of the time you get the really busy looking one and I just don’t think they look good. I either want one in white or black but also a little trendy and stylish you know?” (yes, I do know. But why are you telling me, can I leave now? are we walking together? where’s my mom? are you on cocaine?) “Sure, I can understand that..thank you.” She continued to discuss her pool-wrap/cover-up dilemma as I listened and suggested an array of retail stores where she may be able to find what she was looking for (what? why). I have never talked to someone I didn’t know for so long and so much, about nothing.
We continue to walk over and the talk-inside-cho-face lady jumps in one of the swim lanes with some other lady and proceeds to talk at her face for the next 25 laps about her friend that is overweight. That lady didn’t know her either, she just said they could share lanes. Anywhos, chatty Roberta is now occupied and Mom and I have spotted a nice little grassy knoll to lay our towels on. Oh, at public pools you just lay about, no chairs. Once I was sprawled out it was really quite enjoyable and the lap pool is pretty clean, accept there is always one pervy man who just kind of lingers at the end of your lane, I’m not sure why. But when you reach that end your either steer clear or just cut your laps short, that’s just what it is.
We are seated next to one of those guys who talks excessively loud and seems to always be “closing deals” or yelling at his secretary, Margaret. After the longest phone call known to man he proceeded to listen to his disc-man (yes, disc-man). And starts to sing along (scream violently/yell) with the music he is listening to which to me sounded like it belonged in the Ethiopian folk song genre (you heard me). Lots of chanting, beats, a few whistles and hmmmm sounds on a loud continuous repeat. Amidst this, a lifeguard gets on the loudspeaker….”Attention all pool patrons, you must evacuate the pool immediately. I repeat, evacuate the pool immediately” This, at a public pool means one thing and one thing only. Someone has shat in the pool. Of course someone shit in the pool (wtf? why, can you just not?). Everyone clears out like a plague cloud is storming through (do plague clouds exist?) Men in what look like quarantine outfits come out in search of the fecal sample, with equipment- nets, shovels, trapping devices, assorted face masks etc..(the net is stupid, that definitely wont work). After 2o minutes of deep sea turd-hunting, one of the lifeguards pours what has to be an unhealthy amount of chemicals in the pool to remedy the destruction said turd had caused. Meanwhile, all 1,534 children that were in the pooped-in larger pool, have to swim in this tiny-ass side pool. They literally are all just standing in there, packed in and attempting to play but there simply is no room. No Marco Polo today kids, Marc and Polo are literally standing right next to you. We decided to leave at this point. After being yelled at in my face, a stage 4 poop in the pool, and 1,500 kids stiffly just standing in the water, there was no room or time for pool day leisure. Regardless, I will be going back tomorrow. I have no choice.