Category: blog

By noon, Yumm Yummy, Four Mojitos In and I were ready to paint the town again. We checked our color pallet and felt it was lacking orange, thus, quickly filled it with mimosas at brunch.

 

After brunch, we shopped for several hours and felt it was time to wet our pallets again. This time, we opted for a little yellow and green. Margaritas an mojitos. Four Mojitos In was quite pleased with this stop because the mojitos were great and the guacomole was fresh. We stayed for several hours, enjoying the drinks, chips and dip, and watching the activity at a nearby fire station. “Do you think they’ll let us take a picture on that bus?” Four Mojitos In asked. “Probably, but we might want to refer to it as an engine and not a bus,” I replied. By this point in the day, everything was a bus to Four Mojitos In – fire engines, subways, buses.

 

On the way back to the hotel, Four Mojitos In decided to stop and make a quick purchase. “I’m picking up some Smirnoff Ice. I’m four mojitos in and if we plan on drinking later I think it is best if we don’t stop now,” she advised us. “Good idea. We should stay fluid, literally,” I replied. While Yumm Yummy and I were admiring our new wares, Four Mojitos In was taking care of the beverages. “Wash your hands in the bathtub from here on out,” she told us and added, “The bathroom sink is now a cooler.”

 

We quickly realized we needed a bottle opener. I took a quick assessment of our surroundings and we began opening them on the hotel dresser pull. After six bottles of ‘dirty New York water,’ we decided to go back to ‘my hotel’ for drinks. We arrived to find a reserved section – which we commandeered, and a great DJ. After multiple drinks, several lap dances (this drew the attention of security and, fortunately, he let us continue), a few dollars and a room key tucked in the waist of my pants, we realized we should get a bite to eat.

 

Once we got outside, Yumm Yummy gave sound advice, “We need to drink water, eat food and take a cab.” We hailed a cab and told him we were hungry. “I will take you somewhere that is almost too good to eat,” he told us. After several blocks of listening to us ramble, he pulled over and said, “Get out here.” We did and upon entering the restaurant Yumm Yummy and Four Mojitos In made a b-line to the loo. The host approached me and asked, “Are they coherent enough to know where they’re sitting?” “Yes, of course,” I assured him while having a bit of doubt in my mind.

 

As soon as they exited the loo, I waved them over to the table and shared the host story with them. “How very dare he,” Yumm Yummy replied. We ordered our food and downed several glasses of clean New York water while waiting. “I have no idea what I ordered,” Yumm Yummy advised us. “I have have no idea where we are,” Four Mojitos In stated. “I can’t believe I actually have a room key for ‘my hotel,'” I excitedly added. “You should use it. I dare you,” said Yumm Yummy and added, “Where is what I ordered? How very dare they make us wait.”

After spending a lovely evening with HObama and ImPalin, I took the J train to Manhattan to meet up with YummYummy and Four Mojitos In. Being that I had arrived a day earlier than them, I had a few hours on my own. Due to the fact that the reservation was not in my name, I dropped off my luggage for storage until they arrived. The hotel was very kind – allowing me to use the internet a few different times while waiting for them to arrive.

 

I soon found out their plane was delayed, so I decided to head to a concert downtown. Although I hadn’t pre-purchased tickets, I figured I would take a chance. As I approached Union Square, I received a text from Good Eye Money Guy inviting me to join him at a work party taking place at the Bowery Hotel. Never one to refuse a party invitation, I told him I would see him shortly. I saw him shortly and also saw that my attire wasn’t entirely appropriate for the event. Fortunately, I have no reservations about who I am and boldly stepped in and stood out.

 

After a few drinks, we headed to the concert. Should you ever live in or visit New York, I strongly recommend enjoying a concert at Joe’s Pub. They regularly feature new and upcoming bands from around the globe for very low prices. Tonight’s band was Revolver, from France. I’m hoping they will, like one of their songs, “Get Around Town,” very soon. Luckily, YummYummy and Four Martinis In arrived in time to enjoy their entire performance.

 

After the concert, we decided to grab a bite to eat. While YummYummy, Four Martinis In and I were chatting, Good Eye Money Guy was talking with the server. “I ordered Prosecco and spring rolls for everyone,” Good Eye Money Guy advised us and added, “I’ll order for the table.” “The spring rolls are a nice touch,” YummYummy stated. “Well, I always tempt the ladies…..with my spring roll,” Good Eye Money Guy quipped.

 

It was at this time that I noticed my shirt. “Nobody told me I splooged on my shirt,” I told them. “I didn’t notice. You usually swallow everything,” Good Eye Money Guy replied. “I hope you’re writing this down,” YummYummy said to me. “Do you even read the blog?” I asked Good Eye Money Guy. “I did a few times, but it’s gone downhill since you stopped writing about me.” “You’re just as bad as That’s Not Chinese. Which, by the way, Prosecco and spring rolls – not very Chinese.”

 

After our fine dining experience we decided to call it a night. We entered the hotel and I told the concierge that my luggage was on the 7th floor. “The 7th floor? We don’t keep luggage on the 7th floor. That’s where all of our engineering equipment is located.”

 

“Shit,” I replied and then told YummYummy and Four Martinis In, “My luggage is at a different hotel.” We were staying at the Westin Times Square and my stuff was four blocks away at the W Times Square. We took a stroll uptown, graciously retrieved my bag and returned to the Westin without advising the W of my error. I truly have no reservations – anywhere.

 

I arrived in Brooklyn to pouring rain and the pouring out of hospitality by HObama and ImPalin – two gentlemen I met last year while visiting Manhattan. My stay with them was last-minute, so I was extremely appreciative of the hospitality. Just prior to arriving, ImPalin sent me a text, “You’re welcome to put your stuff in my room and share my bed, freshly washed sheets.” Thus, when I arrived I planned on doing just that. As it got closer to bed time, HObama offered me his bed, “I’ll change the sheets and you can have my bed all to yourself.” “Wow, thank you,” I replied while looking over at ImPalin who raised his eyebrows a bit, ‘shrugged’ with his face, and said nothing.

 

The next morning, it was as if I was in Las Vegas with Frenchmen again. This seems to be an annual trend for me. As I entered the front room I found ImPalin and HObama on their computers – ImPalin was wearing nothing but briefs and HObama was wearing pajama bottoms. “Good morning,” they greeted me. “Yes. Good morning,” I replied.

 

A little while later, HObama offered to make breakfast. I graciously accepted the offer and was delighted to receive my egg and bagel served to me from HObama, still sans shirt. “No shirt, full service. I like it,” I told him. “Nothing but the best for our guests,” he replied. Another house guest interjected, “I don’t usually get this kind of service.” “That’s true, if you weren’t here he would be making his own breakfast,”HObama advised. “Well I appreciate it and you will receive nothing but positive feedback from me on TripAdvisor,” I advised.

The other day I was telling Sleepless that I was thinking of writing a book, “It will be about my dating experience. Chelsea Handler did it, why can’t I?” “Don’t you think you might need some recent stuff?” “OK, OK. Can you just pull over so I can get out? I can’t believe you just said that,” I replied. “I can’t believe I just said it either,” she said laughing. “No, seriously, pull over. I look pretty good today and that corner looks slow. I’m sure I could get some business, I mean, recent stuff.” “You’ll get something, that’s for sure,” Sleepless quipped.
Nothing like a challenge to get me going. So, the next night, I thought about what she said. Baby steps. With a trip to New York in my future (tomorrow), I figured I might be able to pull it off (pun intended).

 

I got to the airport and headed to the First Class/Priority check-in. Much like dating, my travels haven’t been as frequent or recent as I’d prefer, so I no longer have First Class/Priority status. Like Sleepless, the airline agent advised me of this situation. “Did someone tell you to check-in here? You’re not Priority status.” I had a feeling I wasn’t, but really believe in the fake it ’til you make it theory. “No? That’s odd,” I said. “You don’t have enough miles – you need a few thousand more for that status,” she replied and kindly added, “But I’ll go ahead and check you in.”

 

In addition to needing fresh stories, I need fresh miles. I’m hoping since the agent had mercy on me and checked me in, New Yorkers will have mercy on me and check me out.

 

 

 

 

While informing others like they have never been informed before, Nick-e approached us. “I need two volunteers to do some dirty work.” Sleepless and 2Dew immediately agreed to assist – no questions asked. I maintained my position at the Information Desk – microphone in hand and ready to ‘demonstrate’ the karaoke machine.

 

A few minutes later, 2Dew returned. “I’ve got to get ready to lei people, so you’re going to need to do the dirty work.” When one reads this, it doesn’t sound too bad. When one hears it, it sounds a little dirty – made me wonder who was really doing the dirty work.

 

Sleepless and I did the dirty work, which wasn’t as dirty as we had hoped. It’s not the first time we’ve been concierge level. We returned to find 2Dew had lei’d pretty much everyone at the conference and was sitting at a front table. When we walked in, she remained at her table. “Looks like we’ll have to lei ourselves,” Sleepless noted and then changed her mind, “I’ll lei you and then you can lei me. That just seems right.” So, we did.

 

We made our way to the front table, with 2Dew and Day Job, and waited for our lunch to be served. Unfortunately, I didn’t receive a plate for some time. Fortunately, Sleepless was willing to share her plate with me. Again, seemed right. One should be able to share food with someone, especially if they just lei’d them. Pretty soon, the performers began and the drummer/announcer was providing all kinds of entertainment – both in song and in word. “Keep your eyes on the hips or the story will be missed,” “Look at him just throwing his balls around.” The last dance involved throwing money, “The Princess will dance alone and you will throw money on the stage.” “That sounds familiar,” said Sleepless who recently frequented a strip club. 2Dew followed up with an announcement to us, “I’ve got plenty of ones. I even know how to fold ’em.”

 

After the dance, we returned to our informing duties only to learn that we had become the Lost and Found department as well. An attendee lost her phone and charged us with locating it. “I’m such a loser,” she told us. I guess that is true, literally speaking. “I’ve lost things before, but no one told me I was a loser. Easy, maybe, but not a loser,” I told Sleepless and 2Dew. 2Dew shook her head and left the table to begin looking for the phone. “Hey, while you’re looking for her phone, will you try and find my virginity?” I asked her. She returned a few minutes later and said, “No luck. It’s been years since anyone has seen your virginity.” “Touché,” Sleepless stated. “Sof beverage,” 2Dew quipped. I’m pretty sure it is there somewhere. I think I’ll check the corner of the lobby again tomorrow.

Some or, to be honest – one, do not see me as a self starter. I don’t take offense to this because there are times, mostly the mornings I am supposed to go to work, when I feel the same way.

 

Regardless of how I may feel about the whole Dolly Parton workday, I still ‘self-start’ (after a minimum of three alarms – 1. Yawn and stretch, 2. Get up, but don’t go, and 3. No, really, now you have to get up) and make my way in to work. The last few days have been very early days for me, however, I am with people who I don’t typically work with, so it hasn’t been too difficult.

 

As we were all sitting at the Information desk – ready to give out information and wondering what happened to our ‘While you check-in, we’ll check you out’ sign’ – we began reminiscing about the last few days. Sleepless and 2Dew weren’t aware of the goblet situation involving Nick-e and Day Job, so we filled them in.

 

While attempting to nick some of the chilled soft beverages (insert French accent here…’sof beverage’) from the cooler, Nick-e lifted the lid, which bumped the goblets that were stacked, pyramid style, just behind the cooler. Day Job was nearby, grabbing a pretzel, and quickly stepped in to help. Not wanting to have anything happen to her pretzel, she held it out away from the goblets and tried to stop the domino action with her free hand. Nick-e was doing the same, sans pretzel. Their attempts had an opposite impact and the goblets toppled quickly. A conference attendee exited one of the sessions and said, “We heard that.”

 

“Wow,” 2Dew replied in response to the story. “I had no idea that happened. Stressful. I brought one Dew (Mountain Dew) a day. Two for a really bad day, which I think will be tomorrow.” “Tomorrow? Why tomorrow?” I asked. “Just a feeling. You can have my Two Dew,” 2Dew offered, “Do you want it?” “No, I can’t take it from you,” I said. “Really, you can have it if you need it,” 2Dew assured me. “No thanks. Normally I would, because I don’t drink soda and I like when people make unnecessary sacrifices for me, but I like you,” I told her.

 

At about this time, Day Job was busy doing her job of handing out facilitator packets when we noticed she had given a facilitator an incorrect handout (it detailed the name of a different presenter than the one with whom she was facilitating). Upon learning this, Day Job realized she hadn’t been checking any of the names. “I’m never doing this again. I can’t do it right. They still won’t let me forget about the gift bags, the handouts, or the glasses. I’m glad I’ve got a day job.”

 

The deal with the gift bags was simple, per say. Each facilitator was given a bag full of prizes for each session. The prizes were to be given away individually, however, Day Job thought some of the prizes seemed too simple, so she had been telling the facilitators to give away the entire bag of prizes to one recipient. Turns out, that was wrong. A couple people’s feathers were ruffled by the error. The Information Desk though it was funny and some of us even offered to give up the free prizes from our corndog kids meals should they need them. Much, too much, ado about nothing.

‘Do as you do best’ is a saying many people live by. Some people actually choose to do this, others have it chosen for them. The latter is often the case for Sleepless and I, especially at conferences. Due to our excellent ability to sit at a table for hours at a time and provide trivial information, we are regularly assigned ‘Information Desk’ duties. Today, while working the information desk, we gathered a bit of information about one of the other committee members, Nick-e.

 

Like Sleepless and I, Nick-e also does what she does best – nicks things. She, however, doesn’t see it as such. “I’m not stealing, I paid for these things, so, I’m just taking what is mine,” she told us. Technically, this is true. As is often the case with conferences at hotels, food and beverages are billed at high, individual prices, regardless of whether or not they are consumed (fyi, that was ‘information’ I just provided you – doing my best). Thus, Nick-e was determined to get her money’s worth….just as soon as the hotel staff left the area. “When are they going to leave?” she asked the information desk. “I’ve got work to do.”

 

We were glad her question was rhetorical because the hotel staff assignments/hours were not included in our pile of information. “Are you surprised by my criminal thinking?” Nick-e asked. “Not to be rude and offensive, but, no,” I replied. One bit of information Sleepless and I learned right away was that the committee was using this phrase as a disclaimer for rude and offensive comments. “For the record,” Sleepless interjected. “We usually prefer to say, ‘I’d like to preface this with I’m an asshole.'” Sleepless was right and I would have shared that preface with Nick-e, but I didn’t want her to steal it.

 

Nick-e, however, wasn’t listening, rather, she was assessing her next nick. “I don’t know if you saw me earlier,” she boasted to Sleepless and I while conducting a perimeter check, “but I did it right in front of them.” The ‘it’ she was referring to was the act of nicking pastries, cream cheese, fruit, butter, jam and drinks. The ‘them’ being the hotel staff.

 

Luckily, there was a window of time when the hotel banquet staff left the area and Nick-e was able to gather enough food and drinks for a small polygamous family. “I need something to put this in,” she shouted out as the hotel staff started walking back toward the area. “Psssst,” I advised her and added, “I hate to be rude and offensive, but you might want to wait a minute.” Nick-e picked up what I was laying down (if she could have picked it up and run, I’ve no doubt she would have), then looked at the “INFORMATION” sign on our table and said, “Too much information is not valuable to me.”

 

Unbelievable. In addition to nicking the food and beverage, she just stole our thunder.

 

 

While working downtown, D-Dog and I decided to engage in activity from yesteryear – good ol’ fashioned doorbell ditching – modern style. This involves calling people in ‘secure housing’ from the telephone entry system. Ice Cream Man lives in a nearby loft, so we quickly ditched the photo shoot and ran across the street to begin doorbell ditching him.

 

Like so many other tasks we attempt, we succeeded on the first time. As we ran back across the street, he told Sleepless, “I think they’re walking around with a big box.” Personal. D-Dog and I were walking around with a softbox and felt it provided a good camouflage. Pretty soon, my phone  started ringing. It was Sleepless with doorbell ditching questions. I pretended to not know what she or Ice Cream Man were referring to and advised her I had to go but might stop by in a bit.

 

A few minutes later, D-Dog, ROFL, the photo subject, and I all arrived at Ice Cream Man’s door with the big, softbox in hand. “It was you!” Sleepless exclaimed. “I can’t believe you tricked us.” Always a proper hostess, Sleepless offered us Smirnoff Ice; always good guests, we graciously accepted. As I was just about to put the softbox down, ROFL asked me to again assist with the shoot.

 

As I picked up the softbox with my tired and multi-tasking arms, I didn’t want to have to put the Smirnoff down, I advised Sleepless of a new trick I had learned. “Are you familiar with the ‘S’?” I asked her. “‘S’ for Smirnoff?” she asked. “No, ‘S’ as in stick your boobs and butt out so as to make the letter ‘S’ with your body,” I advised her while making my best letter ‘S’ ever. “That’s pretty sexy,” Sleepless replied and then told D-Dog, “She always tells me ‘try and be sexy.'” “Clearly, you misunderstood my accent. I was using my French voice, so I drop the ‘r,’ I’m actually saying ‘try and be sexier.’ Silent ‘r.'” “Uh huh,” Sleepless replied.

 

D-Dog and I soon ditched this party and the softbox because we had to get to another party – Witches’ Night Out with Bruiser. With only minutes to spare, we quickly ditched our outfits and put on the best witch creations we could find. Considering I’ve never purchased any items specific for a witch costume, we managed to put together a couple of great outfits using random pieces of clothing at my house. Many of which I should soon ditch.

 

Bruiser was waiting for us at the entrance of the event, donning a lovely orange and black witch ensemble. “So, listen to this,” she told us. “I totally found a hair on my chin two days ago. It was really long. I tweezed it, but now I am wishing I had saved it for tonight.” “That would have been awesome,” D-Dog stated.

 

Our hairless chins began walking around the event and quickly realized we were rather underdressed. “We definitely need to step it up a notch next year,” I suggested as we walked by a group of women in some very vintage looking witch attire. They spared nothing to capture the perfect look. “These dresses are from Virginia and were $1000 each. Our contacts were $50,” they told us with a bit of attitude. “These women are going from witch to bitch quick,” I told women. “Yep. Let’s ditch,” D-Dog replied. “Good idea,” I replied and added, “Ever since Salem, hanging around with witches has really lost it’s popularity.”

 

 

 

During one of our regular telephone calls, S-Unit and I were discussing people with and without a sense of humor. “Well, you can’t really be both pretty and funny, so I’m just funny,” S-Unit advised me. “That’s pretty funny,” I replied.

 

The Leaver is one of those people with an unintentional sense of humor. She frequently asks, “Are you laughing at me?” We have to reassure her that we aren’t necessarily laughing at her, but that what she says is often very funny. After which, she’ll say something like, “I’m funny. You didn’t know that, did you? I was joking earlier.” The latter part is most often untrue, which makes what she said funny, yet again.

 

Sleepless and I are firm believers in the fact that we are funny. So much so, that we are constantly providing each other funny affirmations about our funniness. One day, while having drinks and affirmating each other, Sleepless received a text message which read, “You’re funny.” Nothing like external affirmation except, of course, internal affirmation.

 

“Hmmm,” Sleepless pondered. “How should I respond?” “Good question. I mean, you definitely want to keep it funny. How about this, “I’m pretty funny. I’m even funnier in bed, but that’s not funny,'” I suggested. She provided me an affirmation I could never reciprocate (she winked) and then sent the text.

 

Who doesn’t like a good laugh in bed? It’s gigglegasmic.

I came home from work to find a loaf of banana bread, wrapped in a red bandana, waiting for me on my porch. It was pretty moving, so I named the bread Moses. As I took it in the house I quickly assessed the perimeter for clowns or Jochebed. Not seeing either, I felt it was safe to remove the bandana and cut into this nutty goodness.

 

ROFL and Bruiser soon arrived for a photo shoot, so I opened a bottle of wine, suggested they use the bread in the shoot, and let them go about their business. ROFL was being professional, however many of the things he was saying, though photography related, appeared to have a sexual connotation. “OK, I need you to do that thing again, when you put it in your mouth just a little bit and then pull it out slowly.” Bruiser was eating a creamsicle. “I’m going to need you to hold the softbox.” I’m pretty much the Boom Girl at these events. “Don’t worry, I’ll retouch you later.” Bruiser didn’t like a facial flaw she saw in one of the pictures.

 

“You’re pretty nasty,” I told ROFL. “Did she tell you what she said to me the other day at work?” he asked Bruiser. “I was talking to him about how many cameras I’ve owned over the past three years and he said, ‘Notice I don’t let you touch my camera,” I told her. ROFL interjected, “Then she said, ‘You let me touch your other equipment.'” “That’s true. I did say that,” I confirmed. “See, I’m not the only one making unintentional inappropriate comments,” ROFL said with pride.