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Misty’s Words of Wisdom #4


Misty’s Words of Wisdom #4 

If Your Pick-Up Line Sucks, My Excuse Can Too


I would just like to say an “I told you so.” Remember when I said once I had been up here a bit longer and the rafting season started to pick up the crazies would come out? Maybe I didn’t say that but it is true. They’ve started to seep out. Well, maybe these few aren’t so much crazy as they are drunk. There are lots of drunks around here. Especially on Saturday nights.


In this area there is a local watering hole. It really is a hole in the wall, seedy little joint. All the locals, raft guides, and raft company employees hang out there and you’ll never find another place like it. Our customers who come up either fall in love with it or, the majority of the time, just don’t get it and are repulsed by it. You can smoke on the porch, people randomly ride their bikes on the porch completely naked, and dogs are always allowed (as long as they’re stranger friendly.) Basically you should never bring a kid there. The whole place is kind of a shit show but its a beautiful, laid back shit show that everyone should enjoy. Which leads me to sharing a couple of my “people I’ve met at the local bar” stories. I’m going to share two, and these are just from the last two weeks.


The first was last weekend. I had a couple of friends come up because they had the weekend off for Memorial Day and they had never been to this bar. I’m constantly telling them “You havvvee to go!!” So we did. Awesome story. Well one of my friends was talking to a hippie looking fellow with a scruffy beard and long hair. Definitely a raft guide. He was also wearing a very professional looking blazer, which she thought was great, so he let her wear it. She reached into the pocket and pulls out a giant bag of… Crack!!


No not really, but it wouldn’t surprise me. She did, however, pull out a giant bag of harmonicas. To which she said “uhh why do you have so many harmonicas?” And his answer was “well, you never know when one will be out of tune.” He was dead serious. These are the kind of people I surround myself with willingly. They’re fucking awesome.


My second story is from last night. I was sitting on one of the picnic tables on the proch with some of our rookie guides. We were all chatting and watching the drunks dancing and placing bets on who would go home with whom. This tall dude with long blonde hair comes up and starts talking to me trying to be all “oh yeah I’m cool ’cause I’m a guide and you should find that attractive.” Except that I’ve constantly been surrounded by guides since the day I was born so I just really don’t care. What I do care about? If you’re a good person or not. Or, let’s be honest, if you aren’t too crazy so that I can sleep with you and not have to worry about you stalking me when you realize I’m not going to call you back. Yeah. I’m a slutt, what up?


Anyway, we are talking and he looks at me and says the “best” pick up line I’ve ever heard. “Soo, uh, you like making out and stuff?” Uhh really? Really!? You like making out and stuff?? That’s all you have? My reply was “uh doesn’t everyone?” To which he says “soo you want to make out and stuff?” Okay. Now its gone too far so I said “no. I have to work at 8 tomorrow.” And peaced out. That’s not even a good excuse, working at 8. Whatever. You don’t need a good excuse for a bad pick up line. And those are some words of wisdom right there. Remember them. Also it took a lot of rambling for me to get this point across but you know what? It’s okay because not only did you get to hear the words of wisdom but you also got to learn about the classy people I surround myself with. Two for one deal.



On a More Serious Note


I’m not a spirtual person. I don’t believe ing god or a higher power and if people decide they don’t like me for that, then that’s fine. I come from a family of Christians who believe very strongly in God and Jesus. We agree to disagree and love each other regardless of opposing views on the world. Which is exactly how it should be. Not everyone has to agree on everything. However, that isn’t where this post is going I just went off on a tangent, as I’m want to do. My point is that I’m not spirtual, the river is the closest thing I have to a god and I’m lucky enough to hear it right outside my house every single night.


When I was in Portland there was no river. There was no stream. I found no brook. All I found was the ocean, and I honestly have no love or connection to it whatsoever, so it did me know good. Every day in Portland I would say to myself “I wish there was a river or a moving body of water.” But there never was. And you know what else? I was never really happy there. 

The happiest point in my summer last year, right after I moved home, was when we did our play run on the river. At the end we beached our raft in a friends back yard and I just sat in the river, in the sun, letting the water rush past me. Cleanse me. I have never been as happy as I was in that one singular moment. I was home. I was exactly where I belonged and where I needed to be and taking a year away from it was what made me realize it. 


Sometimes I look back at my time in Portland and wonder why I ever thought that would be a good idea but then I realize I needed to do it because if I hadn’t I would always take my home for granted and would never have realized that this is where I’m supposed to be. And do you know what really made me realize this? The river. The lack of river in Portland and then appreciating it for what it is when I got back. 


Not everyone has a river and not everyone has a God. It’s unfortunate. And a lot of people are busy, really busy, all the time. So I would suggest you take time to yourself. Turn your phone off, leave your computer/ipad/electronics at home, and go spend time with yourselfm be it 10 minutes or two days. At a church, or next to the river, maybe on top of the highest building in New York City. I don’t know, but take time for yourself, make sure you are happy, and never ever take the things that do make you happy and whole for granted. 


But She Won’t Pee in Your Coffee… I Hope


Finally, with the return of summer, I am home. Away from “the city” and constant sound of sirens and drunk men. Now I hear the river, peepers, and… Drunk men. Those ass holes are everywhere. Dancin’ on the bars, shooting off fireworks in the campground, hitting on river guides… Oh wait. That was me. Just kidding. I haven’t done any of those things. Except drink. And hit on river guides. And well, I guess technically I danced on the bar but that was like 3 years ago so in the grand scheme of this post, it doesn’t really count. 


Anyway the point is, I’m home, happy, and will soon be seeing a pluthora of characters to write about which should help me get this blog back up and going. I mean, the people who come through here are just nuts. Maybe not quite as crazy as the guy at the baseball game with a fish, but probably equally as entertaining. I’m also thinking of doing a section similar to Misty’s Words of Wisdom but it will be called Shit Lillian Says. She’s one of my coworkers and you never know what will come out of her mouth. She’s nuts, but in a completely harmless and loveable kind of way, not a I’m going to get mad at you and piss in every cup of coffee you drink for the rest of the summer kind of way.


So with this short post, I’m off in search of more rificulous people and grander themes to write about. And to make sure no one has peed in my coffee because now I can’t stop thinking about that.


All I want to say is that I’m back. Back in full form, but for some reason my app won’t work and wordpress is conspiring against me. It’s like they don’t want the world to know I’m back, guys. We should stand up against them! Or not because they host my blog but it was a fun five minute thought. Also I didn’t mean to be quite so out of my mind when I wrote this, though those do generally tend to make the best posts.

I’m promising much more entertainment, maybe even tears (you know. If I cried,) as the summer goes on. I’m back in the place where I feel most like me. It should bring out some fun stuff. So the whole 3 of you who read this regularly should hang on. You’re in for a wild ride!! And if not then just do shrooms and reread this. Trust me, it will really fuck with you.

a rambling post by a once gone but has come back lady.

Winter Wear


I’ve been gone for awhile. You would think that would give me all kinds of fun and/or funny stories. It doesn’t. I don’t have anything of interest. Not a single thing. Which probably doesn’t scream “please continue reading this post. Oh and please come back to this blog for more interesting posts about nothing. I swear, we’ll have ’em!!” Yeah. Probably doesn’t scream that at all. I don’t think it even whispers that but my life sucks a little and I need to write. So I’m going to write. And today I am going to write about people who don’t know how to dress.

I live in Maine. Northern Maine. I don’t know if you know anything about northern Maine but it snows. I know the snow hasn’t been coming as frequently this winter as in winters past but there is still some snow on the ground. Enough to make it slippery. Along with the snow it is cold. Today it was 10 degrees. Not as cold as I have seen it before but not close to being warm.

Obviously when it is 10 degrees out you should be wearing pants, a shirt, a jacket, a scarf, perhaps gloves and a hat. The point is you should be completely dressed. But today, today I see a woman wearing capris and high heels. Don’t get me started on capris. Are they pants or shorts? Shorts masquerading as pants or pants masquerading as shorts? I don’t know but they are one very confused article of clothing. If any clothing needed therapy it would be capris because they don’t know who they are.

Capris in the winter though… Well that just doesn’t make sense. you’re ankles are going to freeze off. FREEZE OFF I tell you!!! And high heels?? You are going to slip and break your neck. Which I kind of think you deserve. For wearing therapy needing cold clothing in the winter. With heels.

Lets Wrap it Up


It’s funny, for an entire month I haven’t had a single creative thought in my head. That isn’t funny at all actually. And I still don’t but I’m writing anyway because I miss it. I miss putting words out there. Even if they are meaningless and no one reads them. They’re just out there and that is nice to know. That you have words at all.
Life. Life is busy. My entire month of August is one giant blur of the baseball ticket office, the concourse, the customers, the smell of popcorn and hotdogs and beer. I love it, I do. How can you not love it if you are a huge Red Sox fan and you get to work for their affiliate company. It’s great. Perfect. Not perfect. Nothing is perfect. But I am tired. So very very tired because all I do is work and work and work and sleep. But it seems like I can never get enough sleep to energize me from all of the work.
This weekend is our last weekend. Our last homestand and we’re done. Then I pack my bags and leave Portland for a place that I love, home. I remember when I was younger, in highschool, people would tell me “you’re going to miss this place some day. You may not believe it but you are really going to miss it.” I didn’t believe them. Not one bit but they were right and I was wrong. I hate being wrong. There is plenty I don’t miss like how run down my tiny small town is but for the most part I miss it all. I definitely have a resepct for it.
Coastal Maine is beautiful. I’ll give it that but my heart will always lay inland. There is nothing like the sound of the rushing river and the feeling of swimming in it. Like everything is completely out of your control as the water rushes over your face and skin and you just try to stay above the current but completely in your control at the same time because you know where you can swim, where it is safe, where you shouldn’t go. Don’t ever disrespect the river though, she is a real bitch and can turn on you in an instant. The river is what I miss most about home but I also miss being outside in real nature. The green on the trees, the smell of the dirt, the decomposing fallen leaves in the forest, being able to see the stars at night. I can not wait to go home.
Home also brings a wonderful pluthora of whitewater rafting companies (one of which is a completely different kind of home for me but I wont get into that) and their laid back bars. My favorite; the one that is my home away from home, the place I feel most like me, has its own brewery. Going home means spending a day rafting on the river, going back to the lodge and drinking a pint (or seven) of their wonderful dark porter in front of the roaring fireplace on my favorite learther couches. These are the most comfortable couches I have ever sat on and you may not believe me but if you sat in them you would agree.
So if I love home and have missed home so much, it seems weird that I would only stay for a week before moving to the giant city that is our nations capitol, Washington DC. Maybe it is weird but I’m still excited. Excited for home and a new adventure. And weed cookies because those definitely need to get made.

If You See a Muse Please Direct Them to Me


I have lost my muse people. I. Have lost. My muse. Actually I never really had a muse instead I would just write about the random shit I would see. Like Henry the Traveling Fish but lately I haven’t seen anything interesting at all. I have seen a guy walking down the street with a case of Budweiser one day and a six pack of Sam Adams the next but that isn’t anything new around here. I don’t even know where to begin to find a muse. I did see a cute baby hippo thrashing around in the water on some video the other day but I suck so much I can’t even link it for you because I don’t know where I saw it. So my friends if you see my muse please tell her or him that I’m waiting for her or him to come back. I mean without them I’m writing shitty blog posts about a lack of muse. I would kindly like to write a decent post while I’m at work bored for four hours tomorrow so uh come home to me. Now! Or I’ll whip you. Not really I don’t believe in violence. Except that I am lying. I totally believe in violence but only for a runaway muse.