Well so far I’ve received exactly zero entries for the big “UpTake/Silverado –Naked Girls-Drinking-Wine” giveaway. Frankly internet I’m disappointed in you, and yet, that just ups my chances of winning, so go back to your American Idol and your CSI and ignore the siren call of flesh and wine. Losers.
Yes indeed, I’m looking forward to receiving an e-mail from UpTake telling me that I’ll be accompanying the winner to Silverado Resort, where four of us will each enjoy:
Shared accommodations in a spacious fireplace suite with kitchen, living room and dining area
One 50-minute Spa treatment (massages available!) and full use of The Spa at Silverado and 20% off additional select 50-minute spa services
Wine Tasting at Black Stallion Winery
Silverado Resort tote bag (who couldn’t use at least one?)
Breakfast in either of our cafes
All taxes, service charges and Resort Fee
So I’ll tell you who should win this fabulous prize of drunken nakedness; Lisa.
As a 3rd grade teacher in an almost Title One school,(which means they have all the issues of a Tile One school w/out the extra benefits) she works her ass off, Every. Single. Day.
She has no teacher aid, no parents tripping over themselves to help out in the classroom, and works within an educational system that does not encourage actual teaching, but rather teaching to the STAR . Why? Because the STAR results are how the state ranks its schools. Schools with higher test scores from their students receive a higher budget from the state. Isn’t that marvelous? So, which school do you think is going to have a better overall STAR score, the school in the wealthy area with lots of parent involvement and help for their overworked teachers, or the school in the low-income neighborhood whose teachers must contend with the non-English speaking students and the parents who couldn’t give a rat’s ass about how their kid is doing? In addition, she’s got a husband who’s forever bitching about the fact that she’s forever working, and in spite of all this she continues to care. I honestly don’t know how she does it but she does.
She cares about the kids in her class, and if she’s having trouble reaching one of them then she tries to figure out new ways to reach that one kid. She never says, “That’s not part of my job.” She constantly tries to make things fun and interesting. In winter months she’s brought in coats that our children have outgrown and gives them to students who continually show up without coats. She does all the Scholastic book order stuff, necessary or not, because she wants her kids to get books if they want them. She takes pictures of her students and incorporates them into decorations for the class room for holidays. When Open House time rolls around she stays late(r) for days before hand, to ensure that even if only a handful of parents show up, that their child will be proud of his/her classroom.
I mean really, if this poor woman doesn’t deserve this relaxing get-away no one does.
As stated in my fine piece of travel journalism, Rock City is a section of the Mt. Diablo State Park where there are a bunch of huge, sandstone rocks on which you can romp and/or frolic. You can also picnic. It's a very cool spot, just watch out for rattlesnakes. We did not see any around the well travelled areas as snakes obviously prefer to be where people are not, but one must be aware of their presence. If you want to read about our encounter with a rattlesnake you'll have to read the UpTake post. Pfffft.
Anyway, the boy and I went with KC, Jenny and KC's folks. Truth be told we didn't have much choice. KC's father's invitation was a cross between a threat and strong suggestion. Fortunately we didn't have any other plans. I shudder to think what he might have done had I been foolish enough to mention plans to wash my car, or some such nonsense.
Anyway, here are a few pics that Jenny took.
Climbing a rock. What the hell else are you going to do at Rock City?
Here are the simple submission rules for you lazy sods:
Write a post about why you deserve a getaway on your blog and include a link to the UpTake.com homepage (www.uptake.com.) Linking to the home page on the UpTake site is a requirement for entry.
You must also tell us you entered by commenting on this post. Please include your email address in the comment field. We will contact you using this email address if you are the winner
Sound pretty cool? Think you'd like to enter, but sadly you don't have a blog? Well buck up loser because here's what Joe is going to do for his blogless readers.
In a Microsoft Word doc, tell us why you deserve to receive this sweet-ass prize (keeping it to a reasonable word count or I'll edit the hell out of you) and send it to me at email@example.com
I will then post it on MY blog.
Then you take your ass over to the UpTake post and post a comment indicating that you've entered by posting your entry at Hey Joe.
If you win then some day, and that day may never come, (but we both know that it will) I will call upon you to do a service for me.
Simple, huh? So what are you waiting for? This contest ends at midnight on May 15, 2009.
Oh, I almost forgot. If you're a dude you too can enter. My understanding is that there can be no gender discrimination. But then you can always give it to your best gal in exchange for a year's worth of nookie on demand. Either way you win.
Are you currently feeling the squeeze of these tough economic times, or perhaps you’d just like to have a little extra walking-around cash in your pocket? Then read on friend.
Customizing Center of Newport Beach, CA can show you how to “customize vans, inside and out” while “training at home in your spare time. You don’t need any special art talent!”
Figure this; you’ve probably got a good hour or more between when Andy Griffith ends and Leave it to Beaver starts. Don’t waste your time watching Petticoat Junction and Gomer Pyle USMC when you can spend that hour learning how to create sweet-ass custom vans.
“What we want you to know is how fast and easy we can train you to do this kind of work in your own garage or backyard.”
Who doesn’t want a neighbor running a customizing shop out of their backyard? Statistics show that nothing increases property value like a collection of custom vans in various states of repair, parked in one’s yard.
We’ll show you how to “start your own shop – full or part time.”Write today and we’ll rush you our full color brochure that will “furnish everything you need to learn this new career. Everything is explained with photos, diagrams and drawings…plus easy-to-follow directions in this amazing home-study plan.”
“Only the Customizing Center puts it all together for you- teaches you the complete ins and outs of van and car customizing. Get ready for the kind of career that pays you to do what you enjoy doing anyway!”
Everyone knows how the chicks dig a sweet ride, and what’s sweeter than a tricked out van complete with “portholes, flares, paneling, upholstery, beds, and high-back swivel chairs.” If you can’t get laid in a custom van brother then you may as well join the priesthood!
Don’t waste another minute bussing tables at the local Mr. Steak, when you can be on your way to a rewarding, and poontang scoring career as a Customizing Wizard.
I spent part of my lunch hour on Monday hobnobbing with the upper crust making the scene at the local recycling center.
We have two, large recycling cans at home, but have recently begun putting aside our bottles and cans so as to "cash in" on the burgeoning economic goldmine that is recyclables. I mean really, why should some bum with a ten-speed and a pull wagon get all that scrilla?
So I show up at the Gulp n Dump, feeling pretty good about my 2 ½ bags of bulging swag in the form of mostly plastic water bottles, but my Green Pride was quickly deflated by the dude in front of me, and his ten bags of clanging Coors Light® cans. Seriously, it took him almost 10-minutes to dump his goods into the wet, smelly tub thingy. Plus, he used a really cool knife to cut open his bags. So for nearly 10-minutes the air was filled with the crashing sound of aluminum Silver Bullets, rattling in the tub and up the conveyer belt to the crusher. The dude walked away with $97 and change; not a bad haul.
So then I step up and, after handing off my plastics to some recycling monkey who took them to the Wienie Water Drinker's Scale for weighing, rip open my ½ bag of cans for dumping. My cans of Monster, Diet Coke and club soda produced a pathetic three seconds of tinkling. I could feel the snickers of my fellow earth lovers indigents. I collected my $7.45 and hung my head, unable to meet their mocking eyes.
"Rookie," they jeered as I slunk to my car.
Apropos of my judgmental nature, check the dandy in the hat, vest and boots ensemble; the latest in Recycling Station chic. Sweet. He was not Mr. Coors Light®, though perhaps Mr. Bartles & Jaymes.