The Gull Reef Club

Recent Comments:

9/17/2019 · 2:03 am· Trouble · Good Bye Blue Sky
sometimes waiting and watching is all you can do. The weather has been oscillating quite a bit this... | Read More

9/1/2019 · 1:30 pm· Jaime · Good Bye Blue Sky
It's summer. We don't adventure much in the summer. It's too hot & buggy. We hibernate and wait... | Read More

9/1/2019 · 2:25 am· Trouble · Good Bye Blue Sky
So how goes the summer of adventure? Inquiring minds want to know.... | Read More

6/6/2018 · 12:46 am· Michael (Net2007) · My friend, my friend, (s)he’s got a knife
I've often felt this way, it's strange and divisive times in many ways. As far as this goes, I... | Read More

7/12/2017 · 4:22 pm· Trouble · Half of Us Are Wrong or in the Alternative, Half of Us Are Right
I've been following the saga and cataloging links of interest that contain more than mere rhetoric.... | Read More


My Friendshh

Filed under: — Jaime @ 10:55 pm

I’m hard pressed to decide if the following email I received from the McCain campaign was a typo or just seriously delusional. You tell me:


Suck it, Jessica Alba

Filed under: — Jaime @ 10:41 pm

Revlon is running new ads featuring Jessica Alba in which she has the nerve to ask, “You know what I want?”

Of course, my mind starts running the gamut – what DOES Jessica Alba want? World peace? A fair tax structure? Alternative energy solutions? My goodness, there is so much that one can want.

Then she tells us. She wants, “My foundation to match my skin.”

That’s it? Seriously? Of all that is wanted in this world, this waste of life wants her useless chemical face products to match what she was naturally born with? How about you just don’t wear any, Ms. Alba? That would solve your unnecessary matching-concern and maybe you could move on to more important issues. You know, like whether your underwear matches your mascara.


Stein vs the Power Supply

Filed under: — Jaime @ 9:46 pm

I mentioned to you beachcombers in my last Reads post that Gertrude Stein was getting my attention. Three Lives to be specific.

I got through the first story, unimpressed. As I attempted to make my way through the bigoted, condescending second story, I kept encountering problems with Microsoft Word (I was using that as my text reader). The more I told myself to stop reading the story because its crapulence wasn’t going away, the more my computer acted up. Eventually – kaput. My power supply, as it turned out, was on its way to its electric death, and fried up as I was giving my last shot at reading Three Lives. I got the message.

Now I have a kickass power supply that is actually rather energy efficient. See Mike for details. So now I need something else to read. Suggestions needed.


Used Cars: What I Understand

Filed under: — Jaime @ 1:23 am

There is so much that should have been my first clue. The 1970′s paneling in the showroom. The dealer’s lack of website. The Hawaiian shirt sported by our salesman. His over-forty-white-dude gold bling. His straight-out-of-Key-West-circa-1983 mustache. His business card in which he called himself ‘the Sheriff.’ So many warning signs. All set aside. We needed a car and we weren’t willing to rule out any place based on looks alone.

Turns out this place had a car worth a second look. In fact, after the second look, the car was alright. For the right price, of course. After appropriate research, we decided to make an offer (because as we learned in our car search, if you’re at the dealer’s place YOU have to make an offer first. They won’t make one to you). Making this offer set forth one of the most surreal experiences of my life.

Blood was in the water and the sharks started to circle. Every grossly exaggerated stereotype about the used car salesman was about to manifest itself before our very eyes. The Salesman put on a beach music radio station. Mike asked for something to drink and they didn’t even have cups for water. The Salesman had to scrounge around and settled for some coffee mugs. Somewhere along the line, as we were getting ready to sit down, he made a ‘soft’ racist remark – ‘that was mighty white of you’. Distant sirens are starting to going off in my head. We sat in torn, soiled chairs before his aluminum fabricated desk, with our coffee mugs of luke warm water. Let the fun begin.

The plan was that Mike would handle the talking portion of the negotiations. Despite my gender’s strides toward equality, I was not finding it in used cars sales haggling. It was best I kept my mouth shut and look annoyed.

Once our offer was out there (as has happened at every dealership ever) the Salesman took it to his ‘boss’. We sit and wait, likely being listened to on the speaker phone sitting on the desk. We learned later that this is actually a tactic some dealerships are willing to take to make a sale.

Side note – before the Salesman took the offer to the Bossman, he tried to get Mike to sign something. He claimed it was merely a formality (isn’t it all?) and that it said that he had set forth an offer. Mike wisely refused. Like the offer wasn’t going back to Bossman without it. Pleeeease.

The Salesman comes back with a four square form and, (as was to be expected) a significantly higher counter-offer. We refused and were ready to walk. He begged us to stay and called over the Bossman.

Bell rings. Start Round Two.

After my first glance, or more likely my first whiff, of the Bossman, my gut said, ‘this is NOT happening today. I hope this doesn’t take too long.’

Bossman was another white dude that looked like a throw back from Miami Vice. Older than the Salesman, but still in a Hawaiian shirt and gold bling. Bossman came complete with a diamond pinkie ring. The most overwhelming part was that he reeked of alcohol. In retrospect, I should have just said something about that and walked. In what can only be described as a semi-masochistic moment, I became painfully curious to see what would happen, and I knew without a doubt we would not be buying a car that day, so I kept quiet.

Bossman proceeds to explain to us that the type of car we wanted was a hot commodity right now and they were expensive to get at auction, yadda, yadda. Mind you, the entire time Bossman is talking he NEVER looks at me. He is looking and talking only to Mike. A third guy comes over, yes – also in Miami Vice attire, gold bling, and a shock of white hair in a gelled up hedgehog spike. He is introduced as their auction man. He is somehow supposed to convince us of the veracity of the ‘expensive auctions’ line Bossman is trying to feed us.

Either Hedgehog or Bossman produces some sort of auction receipt for a completely different car than the one over which we were negotiating. Mike calls BS immediately and says he wants to see the one for the car we were discussing. Salesman, who had disappeared from the desk but was still buzzing about the office, suddenly appears, clearly on queue, with the ‘auction receipt.’

Bossman lays the receipt down on the desk for Mike to inspect. I lean in to get a look. Loud sirens go off. If there is one thing in this world that I know, it’s contracts. Legally binding contracts, such as receipts. I knew without a doubt, without even closer inspection, that what I was looking at was a forgery. Some things are just. so. obvious. I sensed Mike knew too.

I’ve now moved from curiosity to true annoyance. Don’t lie to me. Or at least don’t let me catch you lying to me. The countenance of annoyance I had been artificially sporting had become real. Bossman picked up this and says to me in a very fatherly, patronizing voice, “I sure wish you would smile.”

In an instant, I stood up and roared, “F*&^ YOU!” …in my head. In reality, I tersely commented, “I don’t really have a reason to smile right now,” as I flashed him a sarcastic, condescending smile.

Bossman has the nerve to say in an even more fatherly, patronizing voice than before – seriously dripping with syrup and honey – Is it because you don’t understand?

Now instead of sirens, it’s those submarine warning blares going off in my head. BAIL! BAIL! Surreality has truly set in. He did not really say that did he? Yes. Yes, he did and I had to respond.

“Oh, I understand quite well what’s going on here.” I am really trying not to laugh now or show my shock. In my adult life, I’ve never been talked to like this before. This guy is completely underestimating me and his cluelessness is just that hilarious.

Somehow my comment pissed him off. He replied very sarcastically, very biting, “You do? What is it you understand?

Now I do let loose a small chuckle, or at least a genuine smile, and reply, “I understand you got ripped off at auction if that really was your price.” He quickly changes course and tries to go with an emotion route. He starts whining about gas prices and government regulation. It didn’t go much farther after this.

Mike made a few final jabs to assure them that no sale would be made that night. We quickly wrapped things up and left. It was over. We went home and washed ourselves thoroughly.


It’s one week and almost two days later. The salesman is still calling us and leaving us messages. He’s still trying to offer us the car – the car that was such a hot commodity, mind you – for the same price we left on the shabby aluminum desk.

We now own a new car. I am very pleased with our purchase.

Good luck, Sheriff.


The Natural

Filed under: — Jaime @ 8:45 pm

Mark another book off the book sale list. This time it was Bernard Malamud’s The Natural.

I’ve got mixed feelings on this one. It started off really good, got weird, then ended as expected. It had all the elements of the mystical sports story. The exaggerated emotions of triumph and agony, the hyper-importance of inconsequential competition. The overly-testosteroned men and the silly-twit women. There was still something likable about all of this despite how obvious the story line seemed to be.

I decided I have had enough with male-centered books. The last three were all like that. I’m going to have to deviate from my book sale books. Next on my reading list is some Gertrude Stein. That should balance me out for now.



Filed under: — Jaime @ 11:49 pm

I write mostly for posterity’s sake and a slim bit for your sympathy. Yesterday Mike and I experienced something I hope none of you have – a head-on auto collision. Not our fault, of course. Mike’s a very safe driver. With the exception of a few bruises and sore muscles, we’re ok. It’s amazing. The cars involved looked like absolute hell. We’re lucky. Let’s hope this doesn’t happen ever again.

The Gull Reef Club