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Hey whats up ladies one of my friends signed me up for this. I dont really know how to use it yet but if you want hit me up .....

This Life Of Mine



I often get asked: "Kevin, why do you continue to work in dingy kitchens, making a shitty wage, with no obvious perks?" Well, let me enlighten you non-industry people on the wonders of the culinary arts. I mean, I am a smart guy, there are many things I could do with my life, why do I keep toiling away in kitchen after kitchen, trying to scrape by on crappy wages ? The answer is simple: It's a lifestyle choice.


Fist of all, let me be blunt. I've had a few cocktails tonight. As I do most nights. What other job would allow me to have a few drinks while working, then a few more after I get off, then a few more after the pub closes? The answer: none, except ones that need a steady cook who shows up and has a basic understanding of culinary artistry and a feel of what the customers want. I happen to have that. There is nothing better than making a huge pot of Coq au Vin and selling it all to rubes who came in for a hamburger and fries! I feel like I'm making a difference. I'm pushing the idea that food can be an experience, not just a requirement for living. I can pound down a margarita or three, drop a cheap. simple recipe into the rotation, and look like a freakin' hero. Which, in a way, I guess I am. I introduce decent food to people that have no idea what they are missing...

Second, the lifestyle. I stay up late, drink too much, smoke too many Kools, flirt with women way too young, and generally have a great time, every day. My job isn't a grind, it's a joy. I do things that most 21 year old frat boys couldn't imagine. And I'm a a 31 year old burnout old cook! I take pride in my craft, for sure; but I also live a life that Bacchus himself would be jealous of. Nubile waitresses looking for acceptance? I've got your acceptance right here, little lady. Blowing rails off the bar at 3am while most of my friends are sleeping or feeding babies is a joy that most everyone I have ever met will never understand. We play while the real world sleeps. I make food for the elite, those that can afford to blow $50 on a bottle of wine, something I could never do. But once they go back to their soulless job, crunching numbers for the man, I'm at an all night joint, eating eggs and slamming shots of Jim Beam. So let them live their life, and I'll keep mine.

Lastly, It the joy of creation. I am a "Ouvrier" Literally, a "working man." I see what I create, I touch it with my hands, I smell it, I can see with my own eyes what I have done. I'm a practitioner of an art that goes back as far as time itself. I make the inedible, edible . I take raw materials and create something wonderful. How many people can say that? I don't crunch numbers, I make art. Even the humble hamburger is art. How many people can make a perfect hamburger? Not too damn many, that's for sure. I am an ouvrier, and proud of it!

He will need me now more than ever,

He’ll need me strong.

He’ll need my shelter.

His innocence will not be lost.

I’ll hold back my tears at every cost.

I will never let him see my pain.

I will do my crying in the rain!

Pandora's Box was a female rock group assembled by Jim Steinman in 1989 with some members from his temporary band Fire Inc. They produced one concept album, Original Sin, in 1989.

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Why is it that a lot of women are so into riding horse's or having horse's. I Know some women who have horse's & don't ride them, or are to scared to? If you don't ride them they're just hay burners

Today, as it was blowing a hoolie and a blizzard whipped up for good measure, I thought 'Oh, my poor darling Mare and the sweet little Noddy the shetland pony will be so cold! I will put them in the stable!' and out I went into a raging storm ..... my wails of 'NOOOOODDDDDYYYYY' and 'TTTIIIIIAAAAAAAA' were whisked away in a gale .... my fingers were numb in seconds .... my nose running faster than a derby winner..... I forgot the electric fence was on and was WHACKED from here to next week ... OUCH! The hill was a desolate place .... only the cattle mooching by the wall heard my calls .... and why? WHY? Because my mad mare and her side kick were in the bloomin dog kennels!!! God give me strength! The pair of nutters! Noddy wedged in the doorway, his bum braving the storm, Tia in the dog run with her head behind the garage! Now persuading them that, by the law of physics, if they had got themselves IN there, they could jolly well get themselves OUT again, was a feat that required nerves of steel .... Noddy was determined to get further into the kennel (a brick built structure with doorways half the width of normal house doors) and Tia, suddenly seeing her best friend almost totally disappearing from her sight, decides to have a panic and a strop and starts spinning round in the dog run bawling her head off and nearly flattening me into the process! There is not enough room in that dog run for a couple of Shetlands let alone a 16.2hh mad black mare having a tantrum! And all the while, the blizzard and the icy wind is cutting me to pieces .... and then? Then I realise that two ducks are in there too! Two silly muscovy ducks are paddling around under the mad mares feet - flapping and hissing indignantly as if THEY had every right to be there .... meanwhile, Dougie dog is laying in his own kennel doorway... trembling in anticipation .... he wants to round us all up and get us ALL into his kennel!
I managed to haul out the protesting Noddy and shove him through the gate towards the stable ... closely followed (TOO closeley for my liking!) by the mad mare who thinks I am kidnapping her wee man and is determined to put a stop to my eveil deed ....
The ducks flapped along, half blown, half chased by the Wonder dog ( Wonder dog because I WONDER what he will do next!) towards the hen house ....
I persuade the mad mare that the stable and her friend and a hay net and a yummy feed were truly my intentions all along .... but she still eyed me with disdain, shook herself and then turned her bum on me....
A frozen, exhausted, feeble scrap of humanity, I braved the gale and burst into the house and warmth and ... stood in a pile of pooh the puppy had decided I REALLY needed just then! Sigh ....

I just got out of work and seeing what everyone is up to

whats g00d?

Here I go (again) I used to consider myself a hopeful romantic, until I delved into the world of internet dating. Romantic is my nature, and hopeful is that empty part of my life that needs to be shared with someone. I used to judge a book by its cover only after reading it, but I've been finding mostly blank pages, lately. Back in the day, personal ads catered to those unable to find anyone the old fashioned way; for good reason. Along came the internet, and with it came the ability to be whoever you want to be ... as opposed to who you really are. I hope to meet "who you really are"... but how can a photo and two sentences convince me - or anyone else that you're worth looking into? (assuming the photo really is the same person who wrote their profile) Call me jaded; with just enough hope to keep looking for that proverbial pony. I already have a pretty good life ... I just want to find someone to share it with. Someone who isn't married, or pathologically incapable of being honest; with themselves, or anyone else. Humor is my "drug of choice" for dealing with whatever life throws at me ... does anyone remember laughter?

~Gypsy~

It sucks being a single girl or guy. But then at the same time it doesn't. So what are you people doind if anyone wants to talk about anythink im open.
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