Dread: The Sequel (1722-1750)

I took the dog on a hike to do a little pre-emptive Superbowl gluttony damage control. It’s my light version of what I see at the gym every Thanksgiving. Boulder’s anorexics athletes show up a 6am for a spin class, followed by a 90 minute cardio-sculpt-step class, finished with some power Vinyasa. No one’s getting fat today!

I’ve eaten almost no dairy or meat for an entire month and planned to relax my vigil for the evening, the one day of the year I consider it acceptable to consume foods made with Velveeta and mayonnaise. Rather than reminding me of what I’ve been missing, it has galvanized my resolve to eat well. I can’t tell if I’ve got a touch of what Zeb’s come down with (he’s shivering next to me in bed right now) or it’s all the sodium and saturated fats roiling around in my belly. I feel kind of barfy.

You may recall that the hike to Red Rocks is where I discovered a nasty dredlock a couple weeks ago. Today, not 50 yards from the parking lot, I found another one! I’m certain it’s from the same filthy trustafarian, the sucker is long and thick and made of caucasian hair. This one has the distinction of being wrapped in hemp twine (natch). A little farther up the trail I found a second dredlock, only this one was just a section. Sign of a struggle?


What the hell is going on? Was a hippy held down and his dreds cut off in some kind of preppy hate crime? Was it a cleansing ritual wherein a hippy offered his dreds to Jah in exchange for a bumper crop? A Siddhartha-like leaving behind of one’s bohemian youth to make way for a job in corporate America? Is daddy coming to visit and will freak when he sees what you’ve been doing with your trust-fund? It’s a mystery. Fortunately Blue hunched one out before we left for the hike so I had an unused poop bag to collect the dreds in for the hike back to the car. I’m labeling them Exhibits A and B.

I stopped at Lolita’s on my way home and noticed a hippy sitting outside, enjoying some maté or chai or yerba or kombucha or whatever the fuck they drink. I wanted to go up to him and be like, “Does this belong to you?” and thrust the newspaper bag in his face, but I figured that would be kind of an assholey thing to do. Especially since there was a time (WAS!) when I had the hots for a guy with dreds. Not because he had dreds mind you, despite. He was a really hot bartender at Jax and I have to say that his caché increased significantly after he cut those suckers off. But still, I would have gone there given the chance. I get slutty when I drink.

How confusing it is that this image kept showing up whenever I Google image searched "trustafarian". Right, it's the color of the polish. Random.

How confusing it is that this image kept showing up whenever I Google image searched “trustafarian”. Right, it’s the color of the polish. Random.

Today’s load of junk is stuff that collected in my bedroom. All I ever want is to go to sleep and wake up to tidiness. I can’t do anything about the vampires except, as Cato very helpfully pointed out, driving a stake through the heart should do the trick. Thanks Cato, I already knew that. It usually takes me 20 minutes to get my room in order before I go to bed. I like to put everything away and set out clothes before I pack it in. These were some items that I’ve noticed have been shoved around from bed, to chair, to radiator, to corner for a few weeks. Time to go.


From the side porch. There is a bucket of gardening gloves near the door which is a terrible eyesore. I pulled out all the gloves with holes, bits of rope, a bungee that lost it’s boing, a broken litter scooper, a broiler pan for a toaster oven we no longer have, an old sponge, ruined rags and the metal piece of a lawn sign.


Stuff from my room. Jeans that Scrote blew out yesterday at a Superbowl party, a wolfman vest I made for Halloween, a fleece with a hole in it, a wicker wine caddy (??) sheets and a cook book.


Never buy a book you hear about on NPR. Look it up, but don’t just buy it. This guy gives a great interview but his recipes are too fussy for me. I have a vegan friend who will love it, though. She’s retired and has the time and energy to make Lassi and preserve blood oranges.


Flat sheets in full and twin, plus one pillowcase. Hardly used. The guys only use the fitted sheet. FREE.

Zeb said, “Try this on so you will look like my mom.” I said, “Why.” and he kind of looked away and changed the subject.

On another note, Wu says I should open a Facebook account so I can publish my blog to the Evil Entity. I’m waaay conflicted about this. I hate Facebook, I love not being on it, but it would be a good way to promote my blog. Thoughts?

11 thoughts on “Dread: The Sequel (1722-1750)

  1. I know that I was tickled by the dreadlock mystery to start with,….but seriously viv..there could be a hippie-hating psychopath out there preying on innocent dreadheads. I think you should consider further investigation!

  2. I think my first thought, should I see a natty dread alongside the trail, would be “what the hell shit THAT out???” I’m impressed that you picked it up.

  3. I don’t see a reason to promote your blog, especially with Facebook. Your blog seems to be about you and discovering YOUR LIFE. Facebook is a drug that gets in the way. Build it, and they will come… without the wasted time. My .02c

    • I agree with everything you are saying, except that once I left FB my readership dropped. It is slowly building back up but it did take a hit. I started a business page where I can only have “likes” and no friends. I turned off notifications and all that, too. I’d like to think I can control this beast.

  4. look, stop changing the subject. For all we know there is a serial de-dredder on the loose. Save the hippes!

  5. Pingback: How It Begins & Dread Part 3 (2656-2669) | Vivienne's Process of Elimination

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