Reading is FUNdamental? Part 1: Law Enforcement and MCs

So, as all three of my loyal readers may know, I've been bitching and moaning about reading No Angel by Jay Dobyns.  And trust me, I cheated along the way.  Many, many, many, many times.  (BTW, all of those books are fantastic and I highly recommend them).  My general ennui with No Angel even compelled me to go to the Waffle House for breakfast.  Boy, was that a huge mistake.  Before No Angel, I swiftly polished off Under and Alone by William Queen.  So I'm going to do a two things here: give you a brief gripe review about each book and then try to relate both of them to Sons of Anarchy.

No Angel (NA) is a memoir by Jay "Bird" Dobyns about his undercover ATF work infiltrating the Hells Angels.  Bird and a group of other ATF agents and informers made in-roads into the HA by setting up their own MC--a chapter of the Solo Angels.  I am just going to throw it out there:  I have several major problems with this book.  It is poorly written with so much extraneous detail that it distracts from the actual story.  Clearly the editor on duty let this one pass by without wielding an axe and cutting out a lot of stuff that didn't belong in the book.  Do I need to know exactly how Bird makes tuna salad?  No.  BECAUSE IT ISN'T A FUCKING COOKBOOK.  Perhaps it is because there is not an actual story to be told.  The investigation and resulting arrests were a bust so not only do you have to suffer through Bird over describing the minutia that is his undercover life, at the end you are left without a real ending.  Bird's ATF overlords tell him to take a vacation, the feds make arrests and that none of the charges stick.  The End.

The other major problem I had with the book was Bird himself.  What an asshole.  From his general level of disdain for the Hells Angels (contrasted with Queen's respect for the Mongols) to his superjock-turned idiotic-adrenaline-junkie-control-freak, reading this book with Bird's voice in my head was like going for a month long root canal without any Novocain.  And going back to the whole control freak thing:  um yeah, he gets pissy when the house isn't spotless when he returns home for a visit with his family and then there is the time where his kid is practicing his handwriting over and over to get it right.  Nice job there, daddy dearest.  And how can I forget Bird's mantra:  Jesus Hates a Pussy.  Riiiiight.  Because not only does that invoke the worst of the morally superior aspects of religion, it has the added bits of sexism and misogyny thrown in for extra measure.  Bonus! 

Finally, there is something about NA that just doesn't hold water or maybe I just skimmed over it.  In Under and Alone Queen spends a lot of time describing the extensive background checks the Mongols ran on him before he began prospecting.  There is none of that in No Angel.  I'm going to go out on a limb here and speculate that at a minimum, the Hells Angels have to be at least as sophisticated.  You don't get to be the big dog by letting just anyone in.  My point is this:  I don't think Bird infiltrated the HA as much as he would like to think he did.  Put that together with the failure of the investigation and you come away with the feeling that Bird has over-valued his Hydroxycut taking, Red Bull drinking, Salem smoking self. 

So, overall, skip No Angel.  If you really want to know more about it, there is a 6 part series on YouTube that sums up the book and is a helluva lot less painful than actually reading it.  If you must read it, then borrow it or buy it second hand.  Hell, I'll even send you my copy so that not another dollar goes into Bird's pocket.     

Under and Alone (UA) is a memoir by William Queen, an ATF agent who infiltrated the Mongols MC starting from being a lowly hang around, prospect, became a full patch member and ultimately treasurer of and vice president of the San Fernando Valley chapter.  What I found very interesting about Queen's account of his undercover work was the extent to which the MC was highly organized, the lengthy application and due diligence process for Queen to become a prospect was impressive.  It really suggests a high degree of sophistication and management prowess that runs in the face of the grubby, greasy biker gang.  But before you think this is a management book, let me add that there is a lot of violence, drugs, alcohol, and general mayhem to make it an entertaining read.  The thing about UA and Queen that really struck me was that I got the sense that he wasn't looking down his nose at the members of the MC.  He didn't want to be one of them but he at least had a healthy sense of respect for what they valued.  Queen's internal conflict between his mission and the brotherhood of the MC becomes very clear and poignant when the woman who raised him died.  And, to give Queen his due, he really was alone unlike Dobyns who was surrounded by other undercover agents--it wasn't until warrants were executed that he realized how many agents were working on the case in the background.  Overall, a good story that is well written, well edited, and a fast read.  


So, where is Bird now?  Well, he is suing the ATF and is trying out a career as a motivational speaker.  Queen has sold the film rights to Under and Alone for a tidy sum.  


Now, what could all of this mean for future seasons of Sons of Anarchy?  Well, here goes:

• While both Dobyns and Queen worked as undercover ATF agents, SAMCRO hasn't been infiltrated.  Yet.  Sure, Agent Stahl has tried to get the guys to rat but she hasn't been running an undercover operation.  Watch for that to happen.  
• So, I know that I have blathered on about the management capabilities stuff but it seems like Sons of Anarchy has some elements of this.  Clay seems very much like a CEO in Season 1 and SAMCRO seems to have a set of operating rules and by-laws.  Maybe we will see more of this come in to play in Season 3 if/when the Belfast chapter is tapped to find Cameron and Able.    
• Meth is present in both the books.  SAMCRO won't abide by crank in Charming.  For that matter, the fictional SAMCRO seems waaaay more concerned with place than the real life MCs as they are depicted in these books.  With one exception:  the bottom rocker.  But I think in this case it is a matter of the colors and not protecting fictional small town charms.  
• Both books comment on the influence that the military has had on MCs because of an abundance of returning war vets who were attracted to the outlaw life.  Perhaps some of this might inform the backstory for John Teller in Season 3.  

Your thoughts?  The comment section awaits....  

What's on Your Playlist?

One of the things I love about Sons of Anarchy is the music.  Listening to the music has seriously taken the edge off my SOA off-season withdraw.  I have always loved The Black Keys but thanks to SOA, I have some new favorites:  Mojo Monkeys, Bob Neuwirth, Greenleaf, and Chris Thompson.  


I have a SOA playlist on my iPod that I usually set to shuffle and listen to it just about every day.  It got me to wondering, what is on your SOA playlist?  Mine is listed below.  It is Season 1 heavy but I'm okay with that for now.   What am I missing that I must download?  What are the new favorites you discovered from the show?  Or old favorites that you are glad the show included on the soundtrack?  The comment section awaits.

Song	Artist	Album
Slip Kid	Anvil and Frankie Perez	North Country EP
Forever Young	Audra Mae and The Forrest Rangers	North Country EP
Alabama Clay	Austin Hanks	Salt of the Earth
Sucker Punch	Austin Hanks	Salt of the Earth
Burn This Town	Battleme	Shelter EP
If I Could Change	Big George Jackson	Big Shot
Someday Never Comes	Billy Valentine and the Forrest Rangers	Shelter EP
Biding Her Time	Bob Neuwirth	99 Monkeys
The First Time	Bob Nuewirth	99 Monkeys
One Man Mission	Chris Thompson	Live
Riot in the Foodcourt	Cobra Verde	Haven’t Slept in a Year
This Life (Theme from Sons of Anarchy)	Curtis Stigers and The Forrest Rangers	North Country EP
John the Revelator	Curtis Stigers and The Forrest Rangers	North Country EP
Make U Move	Danielia Cotton	Rare Child
Let It Ride	Danielia Cotton	Rare Child
Mongoose	Fu Manchu	California Crossing
Wag	Gia Ciambotti	Right As Rain
Bobilicious	Gia Ciambotti	Right As Rain
Stray Bullit Woman	Greenleaf	Agents of Ahriman
The Firing of the Midnight Rain	Howlin’ Rain	Howlin’ Rain
Tall Walkin’ Texas Trash	Jesse Dayton	Country Soul Brother
Ruby Tuesday	Katey Sagal	Shelter EP
Girl from the North Country	Lions	North Country EP
Don’t Take Advantage of Me	Lonnie Brooks	Deluxe Edition:  Lonnie Brooks
Fortunate Son	Lyle Workman and the Forrest Rangers	Shelter EP
Keep It Easy	Michael Sackler-Berner	MSB
Eyes of the Sun	Mojo Monkeys	Hang
Mojo Man	Mojo Monkeys	Hang
Hang	Mojo Monkeys	Hang
Cuckoo!	Neon Horse	Neon Horse
Then Go On	Old Canes	Early Morning Hymns
Mary	Patty Griffin	Flaming Red
Gimme Shelter	Paul Brady and the Forrest Rangers	Shelter EP
Follow that Sound	Sharon Little	Perfect Time for a Breakdown
Already Gone	Tarbox Ramblers	A Fix Back East
Writings On the Wall	The Album Leaf	Into the Blue Again
Busted	The Black Keys	The Big Come Up
Keep Me	The Black Keys	Rubber Factory
Hard Row	The Black Keys	Thickfreakness
Dolphin Center	The Donkeys	Living on the Other Side
Excelsior Lady	The Donkeys	Living On the Other Side
Zombie Like Lovers	The Warlocks	Heavy Duty Skull Lover

In which I get on my soapbox

Look, as all three of my loyal readers know, usually I blog about Sons of Anarchy.  But somehow snarking, joking, tweeting, and eating poisoning myself at the Waffle House seems small and makes me feel like an asshole.  I slept with a roof over my head last night, warm and toasty in my own bed.  I woke up this morning and knocked back a big glass of water and smiled knowing that all of my loved ones are safe and sound.  Unlike the entire nation of Haiti. A country that didn't have a lot to begin with now has even less.  No water, no food, no medicine, no safe shelter.


It is grim.  It is even worse than grim.  The only sign of any form of a functioning government is a few police in pick up trucks collecting bodies of the dead and delivering them to the already overloaded morgue.  Everything is turned upside down.  There is a bottleneck of relief workers and supplies trying to get into the country but they can't because the airport and ports lack the capacity to receive cargo or were damaged, the airport doesn't have any fuel, and roads into cities and towns have been destroyed not to mention the smaller towns.  But most importantly, all of the survivors need clean water.  And plenty of it. Like now.  Here is a good live blog of what is going on in Haiti.  


Since this is my blog and my own personal little soapbox, here goes.  Do something to help.  At this point, cash donations are the only sort of support that will help.  In kind donations like blankets, toys, clothes, medicine pose terrible logistical challenges to aid workers and can clog up the systems that they use to provide aid.  I know these are tough financial times for Americans but every little bit helps.  So, here is what you can do:

• Send a text message on your mobile to 90999 and with the message HAITI to donate $10 to the Red Cross.  The charge will automatically added to your phone bill.  
• If you can or want to donate more, Interaction has a list of legitimate aid organizations who have experience working in Haiti
• Don't stop paying attention to Haiti.  It is going to take a long time for things to get better.  
• Pray to whatever god you pray to for these people.  Atheists, turn to reason and science. 
• Appreciate what you have.  Take 5 minutes and take in all the things you have to be grateful for.  

That is all.  In the next post, I'll be off my soapbox and back to my usually snarky self....  I promise.

Field Trip to the Waffle House

I've been bitching and moaning about mentioning, I'm reading No Angel by Jay "Bird" Dobyns, a nonfiction story about an ATF investigation into the Hells Angels.  It is interesting but I am struggling to finish it.  Mostly because I loathe Bird and his incessant need to tell me how tough he is. 

So, seeking a little inspiration, I took a field trip to the Waffle House today.  Why the Waffle House?  Because Bird likes to eat there a lot and discusses it at length in the book.  I thought that I'd try it out the pecan waffles, Bird's favorite, and the whole Waffle House experience. There is a Waffle House nearby.  It is always there, calling to me:  Come, eat our pecan waffles like Bird does.  It will help you finish reading the book so you can blog about it.  Plus, last night some of you egged me on.

I arrive at the Waffle House after doing a little light reconnaissance by looking at the menu online.  When I enter there is a big sign on the door proclaiming “VIDEO RECORDING SYSTEM IN USE FOR MANAGEMENT, TRAINING AND INVESTIGATIVE PURPOSES.”  Okay then.   Low and behold, when I sat down at my table there was the eye in the sky looking down at me.   No wonder why Bird likes the Waffle House.  In fact he says that all cops lurv the Waffle House.  From page 103:

Ah, the Waffle House. A finer undercover cop restaurant there never was. Bad coffee, below-average service, good waffles, easy on the walled and hard on the digestive tract….Has practicality written all over it, especially since, for some bizarre reason, they always have open parking lots with views in three directions, the fourth being blocked by the Waffle House itself. Good for surveillance and a lack of surprises. Yes, when I or any of my law enforcement brothers are cruising down the road and see those eleven yellow squares contain those eleven black letters, there is little we can do but be drawn to them. Like moths to a porch light, except that we crave a cup of coffee in a questionably clean mug.

Feeling smug and wanting to get the complete Waffle House experience, I order The All Star Special with a pecan waffle (natch), scrambled eggs, bacon, and smothered hashbrowns.  I had wanted sausage instead of but they were out.  Out!  Of Sausage?  In the South?  How does that even happen?  That should have been a first sign that things weren’t going to go well for me.  This is way more food than I usually order.  I had no intention of cleaning my plate, just wanted to try a bit of everything. 

My coffee came.  It tasted burnt. And Bird was right.  The mug was questionably clean but the coffee was hot with plenty of cream so I couldn't complain.  

And then my food arrived quickly.  First the bacon.  I didn't realize it at the time, but I probably should have ordered crispy bacon.  Although I didn't know that bacon was served any way other than crispy.  Not limp like it had been par cooked two hours ago and left to warm on the griddle.  Oh, dear reader,  I've never met a piece of bacon I didn't like until today.

Then the eggs and smothered smothered hash browns.  The potatoes were actually good - mmmm carbs. In fact they were the best part of the meal.  The eggs tasted...  well....  they tasted bad.  I took two bites before I decided to ditch the eggs completely.

And finally, last but not least...  the pecan waffle which came with some oil-based butter flavored substance that might, in the academic sense be called margarine.  I tried a bite plain.  It was delicious, nutty goodness.  But I had been advised that syrup was necessary.  And yes, the addition of maple syrup made it even better even though it was not warm maple syrup.

And, then I gave the last bit of pecan waffle that I could reasonably fit in my stomach the full monty:  butter flavored substance and maple syrup.  And it was great.  I happily finished, paid, and left.

I had planned on running a few errands while I was out but once I got to the car I realized that wasn't going to happen.  The "hard on the digestive tract" part of Bird's description of his beloved Waffle House hit me immediate.  I was sick for the rest of the day.  Like with chills and shakes and stomach cramps.  Rather than go in to a lot of detail, here is the text exchange between me and the LSH

9:51 AM, KTD:  Getting breakfast @ waffle house

9:52 AM, LSH:  Lololololol......

9:53 AM, KTD:  For the blog...

10:15 AM, LSH:  Disgusting

10:21 AM, KTD:  At least the waffle's decent

10:24 AM, LSH:  lol

10:31 AM, KTD:  Annnnnd I had to come home immediately

11:19 AM, LSH:  Did you keep down your awful waffle?

11:42 AM, KTD:  I'm dying.  Laying on couch. So ill

12:08 PM, LSH:  Lol ur nuts

2:03 PM, LSH:  R u alive?

2:55 PM, KTD:  Alive.  Barely.

3:10 PM, LSH:  Where ya been?  I called the house.

3:14 PM, KTD:  Waffle House won

3:15 PM, LHS:  lol That bad?

3:15 PM, KTD:  You have no idea

So, I end this post with a delicate stomach and strong resolve to finish No Angel.  Besides, what the hell else am I going to do between now and September when Sons of Anarchy returns?

What Would Gemma Do At The Movies

The LSH and I went to see Avatar on Friday. What could happen?  It’s just a movie, right?  We get to the theatre; I preordered tickets to make sure we would be able to see it in 3D. Who goes to a workday matinee aside from a consultant and a grad student?  Apparently every old fart, fanboy, and redneck that lives in a 60-mile radius goes to a weekday matinee. (No seriously, I live in a smallish coastal town and this movie theatre is the most posh one for 60 miles so we tend to get people from out in the sticks.)  More importantly, people who talk during movies go to see a weekday matinee.

The theater was fucking packed to the gills.  We had choice middle-center seats and right before the previews began two couples came and sat down next to yours truly.  The LSH totally lucked out and had an empty chair with the coats next to him.  So during the previews, the couple closest to me begins talking.  I kind of figured this was okay because hey, it’s a preview, no biggie.

Once the movie finally begins they continue talking.  I turn to the LSH and whisper, “Ohmygawd these people are talking.” The LSH informs me that I too am talking.  Sigh.  He was right.  So I shut up.  So the people stop talking for a few “wows” during the opening sequence.  Fine.  It was wow-some.  And then the talking begins again.  I tune them out but the chatter is incessant.  I listen in and figure out that the man is explaining the movie to the woman in real time.  Like he is narrating it for her.  I officially named these people The Narrators.

When I realize what The Narrators are doing, I take a deep breath and wonder, What Would Gemma Do?  While I’m pondering this, I also remember The Crow Blogger’s new year’s resolution:  be fierce.  Talking during a movie is wrong, wrong, wrong—particularly in a crowded movie theatre.  This isn’t a gray area.  I came up with a list of options:

1. Gemma would get up and leave.
2. Gemma would ask them to be quiet.
3. Gemma would tell them to shut the fuck up.   
4. Gemma would pull out her gun and point it at them to get the message across.       
5. Gemma would realize that she is going to be stuck next to these people for the next 3 hours and decide to tune them out and enjoy the movie. 
6. Gemma would realize that she is going to be stuck next to these people for the next 3 hours and decide to tune them out and enjoy the movie.   But after the movie she would tell them what’s what.  

Really, I think that Gemma would probably do #2 or #3 but I also doubt very highly that Gemma Teller-Morrow would be caught dead seeing Avatar with Clay on a Friday afternoon.  Gemma might go see it with Unser, but certainly not Clay.  

Since I am somewhat conflict-averse but not a total wimp, I opted for #6.  After the movie was finally over, I, with a full bladder and an angry soul, turned to the offending couple and said "Did you enjoy the movie?"  {{{{Crickets from The Narrators}}}} So I continued, finger shaking and said, "Because you people talked through the entire movie.  Thanks for ruining it for me.  You weren't watching it your living room, you were watching it a movie theatre sitting next to me.........."  And the the LSH took me by the hand and led me away.  He said, "What were you thinking?"  I answered, "What Gemma would do."  He audibly sighed, rolled his eyes, and we were out the door. 

Oh, and if anyone cares my thoughts on Avatar after the jump

Recapping as Therapy: Part 1, Paranormal State

Preamble Ramblings….

As I mentioned earlier, my raging case of Sons of Anarchy withdraw has been maddening.  It’s like an itch in the middle of my back that I can’t reach and there is no one around I can ask to do the scratching. There is nothing.  I repeat nothing by way of quality drama programming that comes close to my beloved SAMCRO.  I haven’t resorted to re-watching Season One yet because, quite frankly, I’m a junkie and I’ll burn through it and the Tivo’ed Season Two in less than a week.

So, I’m looking for an alternative.  Something to satisfy my fangirl obsessive-compulsive disorder.  Where better to look than your own Tivo?  Especially if there is someone who lives in your house who gets season passes for things that you would never consider watching.  Yes, I’m talking about Mr. Kayteadee.  As I was paging through the selections that he had so thoughtfully recorded for me for comedic purposes, I had a rare flash of brilliance.  I’ll recap some of his favorite shows in my search to find something to fill the Sons of Anarchy void.  When I told him of my diabolical plan, he was, um…  well…  amused… and he requested one thing and one thing only:  that I no longer refer to him as Mr. Kayteadee but instead refer to him as The Long Suffering Husband.  Being a good little wifey, his wish is my command.  The LSH has been torturing me with watching Paranormal State for the past few seasons.  In my attempt to fill the huge hole that SOA has left, here is my recap of Paranormal State 58, Haunted Sex Dungeon.

Now, On to the Recap!

 If you don’t know, the general premise is that there is a rag-tag bunch of student types at Penn State who “investigate” alleged paranormal activity.  They pay a house visit, usually to a house that looking like it belongs on an episode of Hoarders. Sleuthing ghosts, spirits, goblins, demons, and Big Foot ensues under the auspices of some form of “science” that seems to involve lots of gadgets but no actual basis of scientific inquiry.  Throw in a healthy dose of mystical Catholicism that and a generous dash of exorcisms and you’ve got yourself an episode of Paranormal State. 

Ken, the homeowner and his son Nano (Nano.  Really?  Who names or even nicknames their kid Nano?) have been experiencing the heebie jeebies in their actually nice home on Grayhaven Island outside Detroit.  They have been hearing footsteps and doors opening and closing.  Certainly no human could have done this.  But perhaps an old house just makes creepy sounds.  This poor bastard Ken has lawsuits piling up, he’s on the verge of losing the house, and he is wondering if it is some thing in the house that doesn’t want him there.  Something, like you know a curse.   Oh, and before I forget Nano and his pal had a little incident that cause the friend to get freaked out and sleep on a cot in Nano’s room.  I’m not going to touch that with a 10 foot pole considering that I find it highly unlikely that a house that has two men in it and is barley furnished in the first place to have a fucking cot.  But moving on…

            So Ken gives that rag-tag bunch of supernatural D&D kids sleuths a tour of the house.  Down in the boat well (how cool is that to have a boat well in your house) Ken demonstrates how sometimes the door is standing wide open and he hears voices and knocking. As the poor SOB demonstrated how the door is standing open, he pulls it tightly closed.  Hmmm.  Now I’m going to stop right here and point out two things.  (1) Maybe the door is open because you and your son don’t properly close it all the way.  (2) Perhaps the reason you hear voices and knocking in the boat well area is because noise travels very easily across water.  Just a couple of thoughts that aren’t ghosty related.  Perhaps that could be tested. Just not on this show.

            Wrapping up the tour, Ken takes the “investigators” to the game room where they discover that his previous tenants had installed lockers to use the house as a….  wait for it…. a fucking sex club.  And they just so happened to leave behind a S&M torture board and a kinky wheel of fortune.  Now I don’t know about ya’ll but wouldn’t that be the first thing you would have gotten rid of when you moved in.  Or maybe not.  You all are a bunch of sick bastards and I love you for it.

            Our paranormal “investigators” talk to some local historians who inform them that basically the whole island is sacred Native American land with a track record of failed development projects.  Hmmm.  Now this could be interesting but do our sleuths take it any further?  Nope.  They go straight to what they call Dead Time where they use night vision cameras and plop themselves down in the house to taunt the angry “spirits.”  Some allegedly disembodied voice tells a big FatGuy in Nano’s bedroom and it tells FatGuy to “Get out.” Luckily it has been recorded for them to play back to prove that it happened.  Just not what caused it like the FatGuy saying it under his breath or Nano his pals standing in the closet fucking with him.  Meanwhile, Chief Charlatan Investigator Ryan sees the lights flicker in what was surely caused by some paranormal poltergeisty thing and not a power surge in an old house or a homeowner fucking with him.    

            Our rag-tag bunch of supernatural sleuths are unable to figure out what is going on after running their little Dead Time experiment so they go back to collecting data by talking to the previous owners and descendents.  The most recent previous owner was initially skeeved out by the house, attributed to the ghost of the previous owner.  Oh and BTW, he also found an iron cross with a swastika in the yard.  The family of Hans, the original owner met with our happy-go-ghosty D&D kids.  Apparently Hans was a bit of a tyrant who didn’t put up with a lot of bullshit.  And if you ask me, there was something hinkey going on with his descendents who protested too much that good old Hans wasn’t involved in either of the World Wars.  But that is neither here no there.    

            To get to the bottom of this fake ghosty evil curse problem, the “investigators” call in a medium.  I shit you not, a fucking medium.  At this point in the show I am writhing in pain.  Pleading with the LSH to MAKE IT STOP—PLEASE DON’T MAKE ME WATCH THIS HORSESHIT ANY MORE. WHEN IS SONS OF ANARCHY COMING BACK?  IS IT SEPTEMBER YET?  AAAAAAAAAARRRRRGGGGGG.

            Okay, I’m better now.  I’ve regained my composure.  So the medium, Chip Coffee gets “pushed” on the stairs, voices tell him to get the fuck out of the house, and he has a full on hissy fit freak out when he touches the S&M tie down board in the sex dungeon of epic “haunting” fail.

            The conclusion that the paranormal “investigators” reach is that Hans’ spirit is still lingering in the house.  And not the possibility that all of this could be explained by old house creaks, a son with a pal who likes to snuggle at night, and a boat well with a sticky door that allows sound to carry across the water.  I’m just sayin.  Apparently Hans’s spirit and has a no-nonsense way about it that doesn’t approve of the sex dungeon of doom.   

            To fix the “curse” and end the “haunting” Ken removes the S&M equipment from the house.  (So I was wondering, what do you do with that?  Leave it curbside for Monday morning trash pick up?  Donate it to Goodwill?  Sell it on Craigslist?)  Then Ken “reclaims” his house.  The end.  Thank God this show is only 30 minutes long.  It is September yet?

  

What I Did Over Winter Break....

Happy New Year all three of my loyal readers!  I hope you all had a wonderful holiday season.  Santa brought me my heart’s desire this year.  (No, not Gemma’s sunglasses.  Mr. Kayteadee told me that I was out of my fool mind if I thought he was going to spend $400 on a pair of freaking sunglasses and I had better start saving my pennies.) I got a skateboard!  

There have been no smackdowns issued with it as of this writing, but you never know what the future holds.  I have taken it out every day but desperately need to get a helmet.  On my first outing on Christmas morning, I promptly fell flat on my ass in the driveway in my pajamas.  But nonetheless, I have been out practicing every day—my balance is good, I can turn to the right and left but no double ollies yet. 

The 12-year-old boys down the street who have bones made of rubber apparently think it is quite humorous that I am trying to skateboard.  They invite me to practice with them in the driveway; I haven’t taken them up on it yet because I’m pretty sure they secretly ridicule me behind my back anyways.  I’m totes okay with that because I secretly curse at them under my breath when I pass them while out for a run.  Goddamn little flexible adolescents think they are so cool practicing their double fucking ollies in the driveway without any pads or helmets while talking on their cell phones.  I wish horrific cases of cystic acne on all of you little bastards.

My Sons of Anarchy withdraw is raging.  I’ve been watching Season 1 of the Shield and I’m at episode 5.  It’s good stuff.  I watched a few episodes of Hoarders on demand and it was like watching a fucking train wreck.  I couldn’t look away but I was horrified at the same time.  The upside to Hoarders?  I didn’t feel quite so bad about that monster basket of laundry in the bedroom where all the clean laundry goes and never gets put away in actual drawers or closets.   Stuff that is worthwhile watching that doesn’t make me feel like I need to bathe in Purell and Clorox?  Modern Family is fucking funny and Pawn Stars is awesome —sort of like Antiques Roadshow if the guys on American Choppers ran it. 

I’ve also been noisily suffering through enduring Mr. Kayteadee’s love of Paranormal State, Ghost Hunters, and Ghost Hunters Academy.  I loathe these shows.  They are antithetical to my core.  You might see a recap of one in the near future as a part of an irregular series of recaps where I try out new shows in an attempt to fill the Sons of Anarchy void. 

Also-also, I’ve been reading about MCs, at least from a law-enforcement perspective for starters.  I’ve burned through William Queen’s Under and Alone.  I’m ploughing through Jay Dobyn’s No Angel.  Next up in the law-enforcement take is Kerrie Droban’s Running with the Devil.  I’ll be blogging about those in addition to Sonny Barger’s book and Hunter S. Thompson’s.  Think of it as a “Kayteadee reads it so you don’t have to sort of thing.”  If you have other MC insider book suggestions, let me know in the comments or tweet me @ kayteadee. 

Again, Happy New Year!  The blogging hiatus is over and the premier of Season 3 of Sons of Anarchy is only 8 months away.  Gulp.  8 more months?  Sigh….