gas station

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I generally don’t like to hear “the other side of the story”, since it oftentimes makes me appear as if I don’t know what the hell I’m talking about. But, in my latest case of jumping to conclusions and thinking them through later, I may be adjusting my boycott on all things BP. I’m thinking of lightening up a little, since every station I see has tumbleweed blowing through its lot. WHOA people, simmer down now! Don’t start getting mad – hear me out.

Is BP at fault for the loss of lives and the environmental and economic crises on the Gulf Coast? YES.
Do they seem to be keystone cops trying to plug the oil spill? YES.
Are the owners of BP-franchised stations at fault? NO.

When I was a kid, I went to Sonny’s Gulf every day after school to get my yoo-hoo. Sonny was a nice old guy who called me “Twinkletoes” and put great numbers of Big League Chew and Dippin’ Sticks on our account. He’s no longer with us, but his memory is. I could never in good conscience boycott his store, and I sympathize with the other franchisees who are just trying to make a living.

So here’s my plan – NEW AND IMPROVED! On our travels this holiday weekend, let’s get our gas elsewhere and then dash over to BP for our junk food. (I haven’t run this plan by M yet; you know how cranky he can get about going out of his way for anything.) (Did I tell you he ruins everything for me?)

In related news, I went to the salon yesterday and they’re sending all their clippings to the Gulf Coast. Hooray! And let me tell you, those stylists have some big ideas on how to solve the problem. One said we need to get all the pillow companies to send their feathers down there. Another said we should use feathers from chicken farms. And yet another was mad that BP is too cheap to spend $500k on a part that would stop the leak. (Everybody’s a backseat oil plugger these days.)

And, for those of you who inquired, I have not heard a word from BP or the federal government since I volunteered to help with the clean-up 3 or 4 weeks ago. I realize that cleaning the coast now would be a futile effort, akin to changing a baby’s diaper every 5 minutes, but I would think maybe they’d have a couple of folks out there sweeping the sand around a little just to make it appear they care. At all. About our beautiful Gulf Coast.

On a lighter note, my new hair looks fabulous!

Great rates on condos & hotels on the oil-free Alabama beaches!

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They sell bongs at my corner gas station. Having lived here for 7 years, I should maybe have already known that. A more observant person would have, but I don’t fall into that category. I figure I’m doing pretty well if I coast up to the fuel pump before my car is completely out of gas. (I know my car has a red light flashing in my face, and yeah maybe it has some sort of noise too. But if you ask me, those go off way too early. I think my car says “low fuel” when I’ve still got a good 50 miles worth of gas left in the tank. By the time I really need gas, I’ve already forgotten about it. It’s like the boy who cried wolf, you know?)

So anyway, I had to go inside today to get a Coke and there in a glass cabinet were some bongs. When I inquired about them, the cashier explained to me, “Eet for tobacco.” Well, I may look like a dumbass, but I am very well aware of what a bong looks like. Just because I was walking back out to the Volvo wagon with 2 wheels on the curb, a yoga mat on the backseat and Def Lepard blaring on the (standard) speakers does not mean I was born yesterday. Kids today have it way too easy. I’m not going to rant about how I had to walk uphill in the snow to get to school or anything, but at least we knew how to fashion our own bongs out of tin cans. It seems to kind of take the badass appeal off owning a bong if you can just buy one at Texaco. I personally do not have a need for smoking paraphernalia, but I’m just sayin’.

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