Author: grigiogirl

After several hours enhancing my career knowledge, I sent a text to Sleepless suggesting we take a hike – literally.  The conference was over for the day, the weather was beautiful, and fall had tagged multiple trees – creating a beautiful landscape. Sleepless quipped, “Sure. Where to? Our room? That is a hike in itself.” She was right. I didn’t have a pedometer or any other gadget for tracking treks, but our room was definitely far from the main building.

 

We started making our way and ran into some other conference attendees, with a much closer room, who invited us to join them for drinks, in their room. It was clear, right away, that we might have some catching up to do. Drink Whisperer was full of liquor and stories. As he was sharing both with everyone, his renditions were often disputed or silenced by The Responsible One. When this would happen, he would loudly whisper the information to others in the room.

 

We decided to do karaoke and we were contemplating the best location when I received a call from My Pops. He was at the cabin, about three miles from the conference center, was soon to be leaving, and agreed to let us borrow the cabin for our karaoke experience. Sleepless, Passed The Sniff Test and I headed to the cabin while the others got their things together. My Pops warmly welcomed us, provided us an overview of the cabin protocol, shared extensive details about a recent vacation and then stated, “I’m not sure if we’ve got MTV.” This news was clearly devastating to Sleepless and Passed The Sniff Test – they love Downtown Julie Brown. My Pops made his way to his Cadillac and proudly announced, “Well I’m getting in the pimpmobile and going home. Don’t worry if you hear something that sounds like a train going by.” A few seconds later, My Pops was in the pimpmobile and honking on the horn – which sounded very much like a train horn.

 

We had only just begun (yes, we sang this song) when The Responsible One called to tell us they found a great place within the conference center where we could play pool and karaoke. We grudgingly agreed to return and found them in the open air space just above the front desk throwing back nachos, rum and whiskey.

 

After singing a few songs and being asked to ‘shut it down’ by the front desk staff, Sleepless and I started ‘playing’ pool. A few scratches and miscues  later, Sleepless posed a rhetorical question, “I wonder if they have  pool in the Special Olympics.” MissInformation quipped, “Yes, they do and this is it.”

Today was definitely Monday. Last night, I tried to go to bed “early” (before 1 AM), and could not fall asleep. By the time I finally did fall asleep I didn’t want to wake up.  I’m pretty sure that if I went to the doctor, the first thing they would rule out is motivation. But maybe not, I really don’t have the time and energy to find out.

 

After completing a day at work, Fru Fru Pants and I stopped by an old party street (“we,” meaning me and Mini Sprinkle Donut – used to rent hot tubs on wheels and enjoy the stars in the sky while hosting parties here) to support Who Saved Who – she was struggling with some feral cat issues.  I learned a lot about feral cats and, more importantly, about the importance of not being a cat lady. Catwoman = good. Cat Lady = bad. Fru Fru Pants and I tandem shrimp swore that we we never let each other become “cat ladies.” I promised her that if I ever sensed she was heading this direction I would take her on a cruise (in international waters) and, when she wasn’t with me at the end of the excursion,  I’d just tell staff that the last time I saw her she mentioned something about the promenade deck, Julie, Isaac, and Captain Stubing.

 

After attempting to save Who Saved Who, I met up with OregganO, Sleepless, Tile, QuQueen and She Left Me For Lenny, for sushi at our favorite local restaurant. QuQueen has the privilege of doing Lenny’s hair on Wednesday – yes, it is the Lenny you are thinking of (unless you are thinking of Lenny and Squiggy – in which case you are wrong).  She Left Me For Lenny was less than pleased with this information. “I don’t like Lenny,” She Left Me For Lenny (the blog artist formerly known as The Leaver) said. “I never really liked his music anyway.”

 

The conversation had turned to surrogacy when She Left Me For Lenny went back to the subject of QuQueen leaving her for Lenny. I tried to comfort her by telling her maybe QuQueen and Lenny would do a nice song/music video dedicated to her. “No,” She Left Me For Lenny retorted, “You know what I always say?” I responded, “What does it mean?” “Well, there is that, but no, I always say, ‘this is not my first rodeo.'” “Ah, yes. The phrase you coined.” “Yes, she excitedly replied, “You remember!” Yes, I do remember – I remember it like it was yesterday. A phrase I’m sure I coined. I’m also pretty sure I coined the phrase, ‘coined the phrase.’

 

Sleepless and I then made our way to a conference in a resort town just outside of the city. By the time we finally arrived it was dark, quiet and much like a ghost town. As we approached the front desk, apparently from the wrong direction, Guttentag greeted us with, “Wow, we’ve never had someone checking in come from that direction before.” He may not have been familiar with that kind of entrance, but we were – this wasn’t our first rodeo. Before going to bed, and after watching the menu channel for about 30 minutes, we caught up on Steve O’s life. I was telling Sleepless that I  had no idea Steve O’s rehab was so public. Her reply, “Me neither, I need to think more about Steve O and less about myself.” A phrase she coined.

If you’re ever on TripAdvisor, be sure to check the reviews for the Laird Bistro. This morning, I was invited to enjoy a lovely breakfast, at the Laird Bistro, with Skiwi, DDDG and MiniMe. I offered to bring some of the city’s finest orange juice and Skiwi offered to compliment it with some of the bistro’s finest champagne.

Skiwi prides himself on his hospitality skills and had complimented the meal with the global sounds of Putumayo World Music – which provided us both a soothing sensation and an activity (guess the language/origin country of each song). This prompted me to ask DDDG the number of languages she speaks, “Three: German, Polish and English.” She recently dabbled in French (the same way Alice and I dabbled in Italian – took a class, ate a baguette). Not one to be outdone, Skiwi proudly shared his language skills with us, “I speak the Queen’s English.” “Impressive,” I replied and continued, “I don’t know if you noticed, but earlier when I said this was my favourite orange juice, I totally pronounced the ‘ou’.” “Oh yes,” Skiwi replied, “I noticed.” Very Scotland Yard of him – cannot get anything passed him!

Skiwi then began discussing a common English staple he currently enjoys: oats (go ahead, wikipedia ‘oats’ – when you’re done, wikipedia ‘wikipedia’ and then google ‘google’, just for kicks). “Yes,” DDDG piped in, “he is our new pony – eating so many oats all of the time – we are always buying more for him.” Skiwi wasn’t keen on this response and made a reference to the conditions in which DDDG was raised. “America could benefit from some parts of communism – like healthcare and education,” retorted DDDG. “The other stuff that comes with it – for example, freedom of speech – well, maybe not so much.”

We had been teasing about setting up a TripAdvisor account for Laird Bistro and, initially, I had promised rave reviews. Then they ‘made’ me wash the dishes and rake the leaves. “This will all be in my review,” I informed them. “That’s fine,” said DDDG, “We want to make sure people know what will be expected of them if they do dine with us.”

Approximately four hours later I was leaving the bistro for other activities. “This was very Euro of us,” commented Skiwi. “We started with mimosas and breakfast, had an espresso, finished the date off with cosmos, and now we have perfectly segmented into the lunch hour.” Very Euro of us and time very well spent. If I were to rate Laird Bistro today, it would receive five green circles, a thumbs up and I would recommend that guests considering the bistro brush up on their Queen’s English – as it would be an honour for Skiwi to speak with them in his ‘native’ tongue.

It has been about three weeks since I’ve seen Dr. BJ. Between my dates with JB, dinner with Donny’s Girl in Zurich, and his time with Disdain, we really haven’t been home or seen each other. Passed The Sniff Test kindly agreed to pick up Dr. BJ from the airport and he was pleased to return home to “We are Family” playing and me cleaning the house in a wife beater and Daisy Dukes – a serendipitous welcome home. “I love coming home to this,” Dr. BJ exclaimed. “We are Family – how perfect!” “That’s right,” Passed The Sniff Test piped in, “And I now know to say ‘no’ to family.”

We decided to stoop for a bit and Passed The Sniff Test mentioned he was saving some cupcakes in his refrigerator. “I want your cupcakes,” Dr. BJ told Passed The Sniff Test. “Those aren’t cupcakes,” I corrected Dr. BJ. “They’re nutcakes.” “Yes,” said Passed The Sniff Test, “And I’m not family.” He is, but he isn’t.

In support of family, Dr. BJ and I attended a Human Rights Campaign fundraiser where Tree was volunteering. Dr. BJ was surprised to see they had interpretive dance, “I didn’t know there would be interpretive dance.” “Would you have dressed differently?” I asked. “Maybe.” The fashion show started and Tree came to watch for a minute, “Try as I might, I cannot be bored and disinterested enough to be a model.”

We made our way to the dessert section and were pleased to find what Dr. BJ had been craving: cupcakes. I was bringing the cupcakes near my chest for a suggestive pose and Dr. BJ informed me, “Those aren’t cupcakes.”

Met Fru Fru Pants today to workout. Once we arrived at her work’s fitness facility and saw the oodles of people occupying the equipment, we decided to walk along the river instead. As we were walking along the riverbank we saw many interesting things, most of which are probably reportable to law enforcement. My favorite part of this walk is the little park made ‘in memory of’ people with Alzheimer’s – it has not been taken care of in years, I’m guessing they just forgot.

After completing the walk, and being reminded of my French assets, I decided to do Just Dance at home for several hours. I was starting up the Wii when I got a call from FatGirl who wanted me to join him at the gym – perfect! Just as we were pulling into the parking lot a bee flew in the general proximity of FatGirl’s window. FatGirl, who was driving, started screaming and flailing his arms around (letting go of the steering wheel while continuing to apply pressure to the gas pedal). “Aaaaaaah! I can’t stand bugs!” he wailed and, once he had a minute to catch his breath, we made our way inside.

Passed The Sniff Test and I met up to go to Social Distortion and while there we “shared a moment.” There was a lot of people watching taking place and as we were looking toward the stage behind the other concert attendees we noticed a crutch being extended in the air and ‘rawking’ to the beat. A few minutes later the owner of the crutches, a one-legged man, was standing directly in front of us – completely getting his groove on. “I’ve peaked,” said Passed The Sniff Test. “I never thought I would live long enough to see a one-legged man dance.” I replied, “Sounds like you need to set some new goals.”

FatGirl phoned me just as the concert was ending, “Beunas Naches,” he squealed into the phone. “That’s pretty impressive Mexican,” I quipped. “No wonder you have so many minority scholarships.” “I know, right?” FatGirl giggled, “Now hurry and met me at the gay bar!” Once at the bar, FatGirl stepped outside to check on air quality. Passed The Sniff Test and I were sitting at the table enjoying our beverages when a cute gay couple approached us, introduced themselves and starting asking miscellaneous questions. One of the questions, which they asked of Passed The Sniff Test, was, “So, are you family?” “Yeah, sure,” Passed The Sniff Test kindly responded. I smirked and advised them he was not in fact family and then briefed Passed The Sniff Test on the meaning.

Later, when relaying this story to Tree, he expressed displeasure, “Who even uses the term ‘family’ these days?!?” We were then discussing FatGirl’s impressive language skills when he informed us, “I learned all of my Spanish from Christina Aguilera.” Tree reminded him, “Yes and who had to correct you on the Spanish lyrics?” “Speaking of,” FatGirl started saying and then failed to complete the segway. “Speaking of is what he says when he wants to change the subject,” Tree advised us. “Speaking of,” FatGirl stated again, “Who wants another drink?”

As is the case in all foreign travel excursions, one must complete a customs declaration. Both Sleepless and I did so upon returning into the United States and, later, we noticed we may not have claimed some extra carry-on luggage, also known as newly formed French assets. For as much as we walked, danced and stretched, the bottom line is we have returned from France with a definite asset. The kind that might make one exclaim, “Merci. Beau cul.”

 

I’ve decided to embrace the situasstion and compliment it with a nice pair of boots – courtesy of Switzerland. Again, merci. Beau cul.

 

Hepburn just recently returned from Europe so she and I were discussing customs, declarations, assets and fanny packs. I told her about Maverick Midget Kick and his love for his fanny pack, aka banana, at which time she interjected, “You know, I wish fanny packs didn’t have such a bad rap, because I really like them too. Really, they’re just so practical.”

 

I went on to tell her how Maverick Midget King trusted me with his banana while in France and, one evening while driving back from one of our adventures, he asked, “Where is my banana?” I looked down, found it sitting on my lap, and said, “In between my legs.”

 

In a way, I wish I had purchased a fanny pack so I could declare that instead of my asset. Primarily, because the fanny pack/banana is easy to remove. Assets, well, they take a lot of work to lose/remove and just a few fettes brot, croissant, bratwurst, chantilly, sucra and other sweet treats to gain. Merci. Beau cul.

Once Sleepless and I boarded the plane and were “situated” for our flight home from Paris, we started talking about our personal lives. I asked Sleepless a very specific question and she responded, “It’s a long story.” I looked at her and said, “We have ten hours on this flight. When were you thinking would be a better time?” “Oh, yeah,” she giggled, and started talking.

As soon as I got home I headed out of town with Fru Fru Pants for a work-related adventure. As we were driving down the highway I was telling her stories about my European excursion and decided a disclaimer might be in order, “Being that I just got back, I may make a lot of weird noises.” “That’s OK,” she replied, “we can roll down the windows.” “I’m not going to fart!” I defiantly responded, “I just might make weird sounds every now and again, but I promise not to honk the horn.” On our way back from our work adventure I received a text from Sleepless inviting us to dinner. I extended the invitation to Fru Fru Pants and she respectfully declined, “I’ve got to practice violin. I’ve missed two rehearsals and must have 17 songs (many of which I played when learning piano 20 plus years ago) memorized by Saturday. A lot of the parents are really mad about it – they think it is too much for the kids to remember.” I told her I would love to attend her performance and then made an “A” sound.

After this, I met up with Sleepless, Screamer, FatGirl, LaLovely and her friend for dinner at Tree’s place of employment. We were discussing gay men, who have not yet come out, when FatGirl exclaimed, “I’ll take care of it – I’ll just go right over to the closet and say ‘If you’re not coming out, I’m going in!'” So tough of FatGirl. What was not so tough was when LaLovely invited FatGirl to join her for a pedicure, “I’d love to, it’s just, as I was walking to the restroom I remembered I have a big blister on my ankle from dancing and I’m thinking I might not be able to get a pedi.”

A little while later Tree checked in on us to see how we were doing. Reference was made to the care of Sleepless and FatGirl. Tree quickly responded, “I can barely manage to make myself feel good throughout the day. I can’t be responsible for these two.” Just soon after this conversation, Tree and FatGirl’s rooommate, Reflection, showed up to join us. As I was talking to Reflection about his life he informed me he was a lepretiger. Part leprechaun, part tiger. Sounds like a long story.

We left the eating establishment and made our way to the karaoke bar. Upon arriving, Reflection and Screamer took off their shirts. Karaoke Master quickly got on the mic, “Normally, we’re not supposed to take off our shirts, but it is just us here tonight.” Before we knew it, it was the first of a three part series of, “1st call for last call.” Screamer looked Sleepless’ way and said, “I haven’t had this much fun in three years.”

Reflection, however, could not be bothered with the details about last call. He was far more interested in the reflection he caught in the mirror(s). His frequent glances to the different mirrors were like a train  wreck – he could not stop looking. “I think he cheats on himself when he looks in another mirror.” I told Sleepless. “Good chance of that,” she replied, and then caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

A few minutes later I saw something happen that reminded me of Maverick Midget King and the pet chicken he wants to get. I’d share the details with you, but it’s a long story…..

Sleepless and I had the privilege of spending the last part of our European adventure with Maverick Midget King and his friends. Maverick Midget King is incredibly funny – in both French and in English – guess that makes him bifunny. As we were driving to his house proudly informed us (with his sweet French accent), “You can sleep in my bed, I change the shits for you.”  Very hospitable of him. He also shared some personal information with us, “I like to honk and make strange noises.” I love honest people.

We were chatting with him about the various cultures in Europe and he replied, “I love everybody, like Big Kenny.” Big Kenny, for those who don’t know, is a country music artist who was formerly with the band, Big and Rich. A while back Sleepless and I stumbled upon his concert and ended up walking away with multiple copies of his CD and stickers, “Love Everybody.” Knowing Maverick Midget King was a lover of rock and  that he wants to be a cowboy, I gave him one of the CDs. If Big Kenny knew how popular he was in Angicourt, he would be very proud.

Once we arrived at his home, Maverick Midget King was showing us around and graciously stated, “My ass is your ass.” Translation: “My house is your house.” I prefer the non-translated version, so sweet, so innocent. Sleepless commented about Maverick Midget King’s fanny pack and he replied, “When you came to France in 1995 this was very popular. I still love it.” He does love it and commonly refers to it as his ‘banana.’  We spent an afternoon touring Domaine de Chantilly, where the ground was covered with fallen leaves. I felt compelled to run through the leaves and invited Maverick Midget King to join me, “I cannot run with my banana,” he replied, “strictly forbidden.” As we were walking back to the car, alongside the road, he became concerned for our safety and strongly advised, “Attention (pronounced, a-ten-she-own)!” Sleepless giggled and whispered to me, “That means move to the side of the road bitches.”

While in Chantilly, we went to dinner with Stacy’s Mom, A, and Dolce (aka Stacy). We were teasing Maverick Midget King about his crush on Stacy’s Mom and he was getting all blushy (you know how this goes Skiwi). “Oh, my face is red and my face muscles are tired from smiling,” he informed us. “Sirious, I will be exhausted after you leave. Sirious.” He couldn’t have been more sirious/serious.

Our time with Maverick Midget King was both short and sweet (like midgets and chantilly), “Next time you must stay longer – more than two days.” As we said goodbye at the airport he provided us some of the same advice he had given throughout our time with him, “Be good girls. Sirious.” He then walked away and, just before exiting the terminal, let out his signature “a”. Sirious.

 Switzerland was fabulous and now that I’ve been there I am better aware of my life plan: work in Switzerland, live in France, and shop in Germany. According to several Swiss, this is the best way to do it. Sounds right. In addition to  getting a job – which will require an accepted Zusicherung der Aufenthaltsbewilligung – Autorisation de Séjour – and finding a place to live, I’ll need to learn a couple of languages: German (High and Swiss), French, Italian and, possibly, Romanish. Seems simple enough.

Upon our return to Paris, we got a text from Three Sips suggesting we meet at Gare de l’Est. This is a decent sized station, so connecting there can be a bit difficult if you aren’t familiar with it – which we weren’t. After several texts were exchange, about where we were and where he was, Three Sips sent us the most immaculate text I’ve ever received, “I’m coming to the Virgin.” Can I get an amen?

After enjoying Montmarte, we decided to grab dinner at one of Three Sips’ favorite Portugeuse restaurants. We were seated in the corner, near the toilette and the musician. Three Sips noticed I was “speaking to the musician with my eyes.” I told him I was eyelingual – something everyone understands. With all of the toilette traffic, we thought it might be a good idea to ask people for 50 cents to use it – not an uncommon request in Europe, and a great way to make some party money for the evening. Unfortunately, this plan was not too successful.

Wanting to ensure we had a quality experience in Paris, Three Sips located a karaoke bar, called New York Café. Doing karaoke in Paris at a bar with a New York name and theme is the great way to end our time there. As we were walking to the bar we passed a couple eating at an outside bistro on a narrow cobblestone street. They were taking pictures of each other, individually, so I offered (with my eyes, of course) to take a picture of the two of them together. In return, she offered to take a picture of us. We graciously accepted and as she was taking the picture she said, “This is perfect – looks just like Paris.” Shocking – it is Paris.

Karaoke in other countries is truly an experience not to be missed. We heard so many renditions of so many great and interesting songs. We stuck with English songs: Love Shack and More Than a Feeling. After Love Shack, Sleepless smiled proudly and said, “We just love shacked in Paris.” After singing Boston, I wasn’t smiling so proudly, “This may be a hunch, but I have a feeling there should be no more “More Than a Feeling” at karaoke.” Sleepless agreed.

At approximately four in the morning we left the New York Café and decided to tour Paris by foot. This is by far the best way to tour Paris. The only negative being my camera battery was dead so I was unable to take any pictures. Luckily, Three Sips had his phone and was able to capture the important shots, with the most important being  Sleepless and I dancing in the Place du Pantheon fountain (something that is strictly forbidden – but if you dance in a fountain in France at night and no authorities are around, is it still strictly forbidden?). Our last stop, just after 6 AM, was at the Eiffel Tower. At this hour, there are no lights on the Eiffel Tower and we decided to wait for daylight so Three Sips could take our picture. I had stepped away for a minute and when I returned, I learned I was coming/returning to the large city virgin. “We’ve just been watching a squirrel,” said Sleepless. “A squirrel, where?” I asked. “Just over there by the garbage – I think he is eating.” Unfortunately, it was not a squirrel, rather a rat. “Oh, is that why he was fat and his tail was so thin?” “Yes,” I replied, “His thin tail is not because he is French, it is because he is a rat. Unfortunately for him, French rats, unlike French women (according to Mireille Guiliano), can get fat.”

After lugging our luggage through the Paris underground, we decided to leave it with Three Sips and do as most Americans do in Europe: backpack! So, we donned his backpacks, equipped with water bottles and candy, and headed to Zurich (via train). Being that we have no reservations – in so many ways – our first task was to find a hotel. And hotel, motel, Holiday Inn, we did! We found a posh little plaza on Badener Strasse and started making our way when Sleepless caught a glimpse of herself in a mirrored window. “Does this backpack make my boobs look big?” she asked. “It’s not the backpack,” I replied.

We spent the first night getting oriented – finding places we wanted to visit in the daylight, learning a guard at the door of the market does not mean it is a safe place, rather, it means they are closing and do not want anyone to enter, and not very many people wear sunglasses.

The next day we went to multiple daylight locations and decided we just might want to move to Switzerland – we love it! The best news about that is we only have to learn about three languages, maybe a few more than that, to fit in. So exciting!

One of the main reasons, actually the main reason, we came to Switzerland was to enjoy a lovely, non-Delta dinner, with Donny’s Girl. So at 19:00 we met her and Eight Minutes in front of the Manor (a fantastic shopping village). Donny’s Girl had made reservations for us at a little Italian restaurant and the four of us enjoyed a lovely selection of pastas and wine. Donny’s Girl shared with us a secret about a little novel she wrote, when she was 14, about Donny Osmond, David Cassidy and a young Swiss girl…..hmmm, I wonder who that girl could be. I’ve no doubt Donny will one day be bringing her purple roses.

Donny’s Girl had to catch a train so we hurried (not the Huried train) her to the stop and bid her farewell. We then decided to make our way back as well and entered a bar to get change for the tram. After being enticed by the music we decided maybe we should go dancing instead. This idea was not too appealing to Eight Minutes, so we attempted to her. “No, no, no. I cannot. I work at 6:30 in the morning. Cannot do it.” And then, “You know what? Why not!” And so it was, we were heading back to the bar for dancing and drinks.

Sadly, the bar had changed modes since we were there two minutes prior and was now charging a $15 cover. We decided we did not want to dance that bad and started looking for a nice bistro for an evening drink. Just as we struck out at another location, Eight Minutes said, “I’ll show you something. Walk this way.” And before you know it we were singing karaoke in a funky little Filipino Swiss karaoke bar. The songs and accompanying graphics were amazing. Sleepless and I opted for “Physical” by Olivia Newton John. Our favorite part was when the lyrics read, and we sang, “I wanna get ana ma, ana ma….” And ana ma we did!