Ah, yes. As we embark on this newest venture, I felt I could at least share my most recent posting from my original blog, created back when I was young and full of interesting things to share.
By the hair not on my chinny-chin-chin
All gone. Yes, my face is bereft of all but the minutest stubble of the day for the first time since August 1996. My chin is cold. So cold. It was a whim, something that I probably should have waited to do until I lost the chubsy-ubsy double chin that, apparently, the goatee was hiding. Who knew?
Good grammars is everywhere:
Following is a direct quote from a news article I read earlier today: "Poor visibility was poor near the top of the mountain, which about 15 miles northeast of Santa Fe, state Department of Public Safety spokesman Peter Olson said." Really?
As is tradition on our visits to Milwaukee, we must find at least one trashy bar upon which to inflict our rowdiness. It was Bob's pick, the New Yorker, across from the Greyhound Station. Immediately we knew (well - after the ten minutes it took Bob to parallel park) this was a bar like no other. Oddly and fluorescently lit, battleship gray from head to toe, with a subtle 'Jazz and NYC as drawn by preschoolers' theme. The three patrons along with the bartender all showing signs of what movies have told me is shell-shock. The jukebox blaring the soundtracks from Apocalypse Now and Platoon. There were four of us, so I ordered four drinks, got five. An extra vodka-cranberry that was 90% vodka, and Bob's 'Fuzzy Navel'. I don't know what actually goes into a fuzzy navel, but I'm certain it ISN'T 90% vodka, 5% OJ, 5% of some other clear liquid - peach schnapps? - and finally, a shaky, tentative flourish of grenadine. Sometimes you just know when you should be drinking whatever tap beer is available. I was.
My Blue Hawaii
In case you were curious (and I know you are), Boone's Farm Blue Hawaiian, with a bouquet and oily finish like Coppertone 30, is NOT the worst choice of alcoholic splendor when compared to some of the small-run Chardonnays and Pinot Gris from Trader Joe's. Go figure. Perhaps because one EXPECTS Boone's Farm to suck and therefore sets low expectations, but at least it couldn't be used as pancake syrup or hand-to-hand combat. Good times, nevertheless, after our visit to the tavern of the damned.
Separating the White and the Colored
Congratulations, Stephanie! Steph graduated high school last Sunday, and was given a crisp, white cap and gown to wear for the ceremony. As were the rest of the girls. The boys were given burgundy ensembles, and they were split by gender on stage, so they formed two separate blocks of color. They were even called alternately, boy-girl, boy-girl, to receive their diplomas from opposite sides of the stage. Because alphabetically is just so 2008, apparently. The PA system was sub-par, or at least sub-volume, everyone sounded like adults in a Charlie Brown special. Only the first three rows of people directly in front of the podium could hear, as evidenced by their occasional laughter. On another note, how does someone with a last name of 'Stoner' actually manage to get himself elected to the school board? Was the other candidate's name Tweaker?
Commercial flight, of course. What did you think? I'm convinced that the rows of seats move closer together, like tectonic plates, each time I fly. Yes, I am of an amply-rumped Midwestern build, but this hasn't changed, and yet I feel like somehow I keep getting assigned to the child seat. Half a plastic cup of warm, flat Diet Coke? Yes, please. Rat Bastard who thinks the 'Turn off your cell phone' announcement doesn't apply to him, as he's texting during takeoff? Of course. The guy at security who disposed of his water but kept his juice, because that's not a liquid, right? Whiny woman complaining when her 'window' seat in the last row of the plane didn't actually have a window, and again when the window seat she decided to take had a scenic view of her reflection in the side of the engine? Why not? All manner of miscreants who chose our flight home to be their first taste of commercial flight? Damn straight.
Finally, the highly-anticipated Rental Car Review
It's been some time since my buttocks graced the overused seat of a rental car. My last few trips for work had me staying across a parking lot or across a street from my clients, and this last week was the first personal travel we've had. We live in Florida, people should be visiting us! Anyway, Hertz was decent overall, though the line couldn't have moved slower if they tried. Not the clerk's fault, with one customer barging in line to complain about the oil change light, and another being credit-card impaired. Then there was the father at the Avis line next to us who couldn't actually remember WHERE he booked his car, but was certain that it was one of the agencies in Milwaukee. He hoped.
I booked a full-size car, same price as Standard and Compact this trip, and we're never compact travellers. Given our experience with Enterprise in January, I inquired just what qualified as 'full-size'. Apparently what Hertz considers a full-size car is neither full-size nor a car, I had my choice of a Subaru Forester or a Ford Escape. Opting for the Escape, and walking past a slew of what I would have considered both full-size and car-like, we found our vehicle, loaded the luggage and we were off. Hertz has this thing about renting non-local cars to non-locals, so there's no chance of fitting in - this trip we were from Mississippi, further south than last summer's Lucerne from Tennessee.
For a little SUV and for all the poor reviews I'd heard about them, I had few complaints about the Escape. Hertz now includes Sirius/XM radio on all of their cars, so we had that going for us. Decent mileage, lots of room, could have used a little more pickup up hills. Not the soft luxury ride I'm used to in the Buick, but all in all, a very nice non-full-sized non-car. B+
And now, a BONUS MOVIE REVIEW!!!
The Hangover. Funny, funny, stuff. See it.