Month: November 2011

One benefit and disadvantage to traveling is hearing other people’s conversations. After spending more than two hours on the plane this last weekend, one of the passengers behind me decided to share a little gem with her male friend and everyone else within earshot, “I think it is your breath that I can smell.” “Sorry,” he replied and added, “I should have ordered a beer when I had the chance.” “I have some gum if you want it. I mean, I’m not saying you need it,” she replied. She then turned to her other male companion, and said, “Do you want some?” “Do I need some?” he asked. “Oh, no. I would tell you if you did,” she replied. I’m pretty sure she just did.

 

Once the plane finally landed and it was making it’s way to the terminal, the same passengers began bidding on rental cars. The girl, again, piped up, “Come on William Shapner! That’s his name, right? William?” William, right. Shapner, wrong. Maybe she could negotiate a rental rate and name change with Shapner after she asks him if he’d like some gum.

 

Once I returned from this adventure, I headed South for a funeral. Being that my flight arrived rather late, and I was driving, I wouldn’t be checking into the hotel until around five in the morning. When I booked the hotel, I opted against relying on William and phoned the hotel directly for a reservation. This proved to be fruitful as they gave me a rate that was half of what was advertised on their website. When I told them I would be a very late arrival, they replied, “No problem.”

 

When I arrived, I found it was no problem at all. The door to the lobby was locked and there was a sign taped to the door, for all to see. The sign had my name in bold and the following message: “Your room number 202 is located in the one-story building at the back of the parking lot. The key is in the door.” Sure enough, the key was hanging in the door. “It’s a good thing I don’t live around here,” I told MC Static Cling. “I would be entering people’s rooms like nobody’s business.” “Maybe someone has entered your room,” he replied. “Good point. Didn’t even think of that. That could be awkward because he or she will know my name, but I won’t know their name,” I replied. “Names will probably be the least awkward part of that encounter,” he quipped.

 

 

Unfortunately, I didn’t get to experience any turbulence on my flight to LA, as hoped. Instead, I experienced maintenance and mechanical problems which resulted in a major delay. In the pilot’s attempt to make up for these shortcomings, we had a relatively quick ride with a rough landing. Sound familiar?

 

Fortunately, Manila Gorilla is a patient man and was waiting for me at the airport. As we were making our way to S-Unit’s birthday party he apologized to me, “Sorry for driving like an Asian.” “What do you mean?” I asked. “Braking a lot, driving really slow,” he replied as he applied the brakes to change lanes. I cut him some slack because he waited for me at the airport and he is Asian.

 

Even with the Asian braking, we arrived at the club in time for me to throw on some sunglasses, wrap my scarf around my head and don my mustache. Our only concern was surprising S-Unit. The first person surprised, however, was me when the bouncer stopped me and said, “Wait a second, I need to see that you are older than 21. Show me your 22 eyes.” I pulled my glasses down just so, gave him the bouncer bat, and continued to the party room.

 

As we ordered drinks, I opted to stick with theme drinks and ordered a ‘Don’t Touch My Mustache.’ Apparently, this is a drink often enjoyed by Americans, stationed at air bases in Japan, who have difficulty saying ‘Do Itashimashite,’ which is Japanese for ‘You’re welcome.’ How it became a drink, I do not know, but I’ll have another doozo – that’s Japanese for ‘please,’ however, it sounds like a good drink, maybe that is how it happened.

 

The few people at the bar were friendly and didn’t question my accessories. The mustache wasn’t too out of the ordinary, as it was the party theme. The scarf, sunglasses and bling ring – forgot to mention that earlier, I was wearing a $ sign bling ring that I planned to give to S-Unit as a birthday present – also seemed to be kosher. A few sips into my Don’t Touch My Mustache and I realized I was not going to be drinking too much because it was virtually impossible to do so without touching my mustache. Not wanting to ruin my disguise, I grabbed a straw and sipped my drink until S-Unit arrived.

 

A few minutes later, I had mastered the surprise and ditched my disguise – S-Unit was totally elated and surprised. “I told you she was going to,” then Manila Gorilla made a face and finished the sentence, “in her pants.” “I’m so excited, I just can’t hide it,” S-Unit replied. “There’s a song for that,” I advised. “I know. I’m about to have a drink and I think I like it,” she replied. Ah, S-Unit, always one to make the song fit her meaning.

 

As S-Unit was introducing me to others in the room, she would tell them that I flew in to surprise her. “Oh that explains the burqa,” one guest replied. A few minutes later, another replied, “Hence the ‘situation,’ you had going on earlier.” I’m not entirely sure what that meant, but our reply was ‘yes.’

 

As the party continued, more and more guests were donning mustaches and the locations in which they were placing them were getting progressively more risque. Thus, once again, the phrase, ‘Don’t touch my mustache,” came in handy for many.

Since I wasn’t flying to S-Unit’s wedding on 11-11-11 (currently postponed until 12-12-12), I made a last minute decision to surprise her by flying out to her birthday party. As I packed my bag I realized I only had about 30 minutes before I needed to leave to the airport and hadn’t planned transportation. I sent a text to That’s Not Chinese (one of my regular ‘airport shuttles’) and, twenty minutes later when she hadn’t replied, I rang her. She informed me that she and Dr. BJ were just ‘hanging out.’ I’m no amateur, so I posed a simple and important question, “Are you too drunk to drive me to the airport in five minutes?” Luckily, I caught them at the early stage of the ‘hang out,’ and they were at my house within ten minutes.

 

“Where’s your bag?” That’s Not Chinese asked. “Right there,” I said and pointed to a small black tote – this small reality will be hard for most of my traveling companions to believe, I am the queen of the big, overpacked luggage. Dr. BJ, my regular driver last year when I was ‘dating JB,’ was shocked, “Where are you going and for how long?” “Los Angeles. One night,” I replied. “Oh, and here’s my payment, upfront,” I said and handed them a bottle of wine. Although I didn’t promise wine for payment, this gesture should guarantee me future last minute rides from the two of them.

 

As we approached the terminal Dr. BJ was shocked, yet again, “You’re flying with JB? You haven’t been with him for at least a year.” “I know, I know,” I replied and added, “You know how it goes in a relationship. You’re really hot and heavy, for like a month, and then you end it. One year later, circumstances bring you together again, you’re familiar with their quirks and, well, you know.” “Enjoy that ride,” Dr. BJ advised me. “Thanks. I’m hoping for a little turbulence – just to keep it exciting,” I replied as I exited the car, tote (carrying everything I would need to disguise and surprise) on my shoulder, and let the adventure begin.

 

 

While at a Wonderful Women and Wine Party, hosted my the amazing Bruiser, I was reunited with some major blasts from my pasts. One woman used to hang out with Mini Sparkle Donut and I at a college house, of sorts, where Mini Sparkle Donut and I would regularly hosts parties. We were underage entrepreneurs, so we didn’t drink, we were merely event planners and bartenders. “You make amazing jungle juice,” the woman reminded me. “Thank you. That’s what got me pregnant,” I told her. “Really?” she asked. “Well, yes, that and dancing,” I replied. FatGirl can say what he may, but jungle juice jiggling jugs once caught the eye of many a man on the dance floor/front room of the party house.

 

I recognized another woman from the time I was with the one guy I married that one time I got married – she did my make-up for my portraits and the day of the wedding. I asked about her husband at the time, “Oh, I’m not with him anymore. He was kind of like a starter husband.” “Right. Well, as you know, I’ve had one of those. Actually, I went from a condo to a trailer. Now I’ve got a house. Sugar self,” I replied.

 

Several of the women started talking about past relationships – some had actually happened, others were Prime Rib style – in their mind only. “Wow, didn’t mean to be a Donny Downer,” one of the women said. “Don’t you mean Debbie Downer?” I asked. “Do I? Huh, I don’t know. I’ve never been good with names,” she replied.

 

I’ve been spending a bit of time on the road lately; most of this time has been spent by myself. To make the most of this experience, I equip my car with my version of an iPod – a bag of CDs from the library, a microphone, chili lime plantain chips, and my camera.

 

Several hundred miles into my road trip, I started thinking about how much easier it would be to chat with others and share my travel experiences if I had a dash cam. Cops have them, why can’t I? So, I took my point & shoot camera, used the safety strap to hang it from my rearview mirror, and began filming. There are various film techniques commonly used in the field of cinematography. These techniques include, but are not limited to, fly on the wall (one of my favorites), reverse angle, and swish pan. As I set up my shot, I decided this was a new technique which I now refer to as sideways sway. This it because the only way I could hang my camera was sideways and because it was hanging it regularly swayed from side-to-side.

 

The footage I got was incredible. Definitely film fest worthy. I got home and immediately uploaded it to youtube. As I shared this new technique with MissInformation, she informed me, “You really need to set up a website dedicated to this incredible film work. How about dash.com?” “Nope, it’s taken. It’s a soap company,” I informed her. One would think she would know that with a name like MissInformation. “I’ve got it,” she excitedly told me, “hypencuzdashistaken. It’s perfect!”

At the last minute, I was invited to attend a Tesla concert. As most know, I have a hard time saying ‘no,’ so my only question about the event was this, “Are we dressing up?” Luckily, I was going with the right people and we would all be looking glambandourous. I remembered Tesla being part of the late eighties music scene, but couldn’t exactly recall their ‘look.’ So, like all good artists, I researched my role.

 

Unlike many of of the heavy metal glam bands in the eighties, Tesla wasn’t and isn’t into make-up and tight LYCRA® or leather pants. They were and are, however, into jeans, t-shirts and hair. Tesla girls, similar to the girls featured in the OMD video, had big hair, wore tight-fitting shirts, skirts and were really good flirts. With this research in mind, I opted for a mini skirt, tank top, leather jacket, over-the-knee boots, a fauxhawk and planned to bat my make-up enhanced eyes like nobody’s business.

 

I arrived to find an ambulance and fire engine in front of the concert venue. “Shit,” I told Mini Sprinkle Donut, “I have a feeling they may be here for one of the band members.” “They are pretty old,” she replied. Luckily, that was not the case, and I walked into the venue to find the band on stage, sitting – this is their standard practice and a good way to avoid being whisked away in an ambulance.

 

I found One And Done and Returned Wranglers in a crowd of fans dressed to a Tesla ‘tee’ in t-shirts and jeans. As they were singing with the band, one of the extremely excited fans turned to us and said, “I think I may have filled my diaper.” Gross. Checking one’s pants to make sure they are appropriate for an event is one thing, checking them because you may have filled them is quite another.

 

The concert continued, One And Done and I continued to pretend to know the words to the songs, and Returned Wranglers continued to tell us, “I love these guys!” As they were chair dancing, singing ‘Signs,’ and sounding really great, I concert-whispered to One And Done, “I’m surprised they’re covering another band’s song.” “I know, right?” Turns out the reason they sounded so great is they were, in fact, singing their own song. I guess next time I should spend less time ‘checking pants’ and a little more time researching the band’s songs. Or, I can just stay in Paradise, Caught in a Dream about Little Suzi, take a little Edison’s Medicine and Hang Tough while waiting for a Modern Day Cowboy, Thank You.

 

I’m not always the sharpest tool in the shed. The other day, while discussing very important issues with my boss, he told me he won ‘Garage of the Year.’ “Really? How does one do that?” I asked. “I’m not sure, but I won. I mean, we designed it to match the house. The gables match perfectly,” he replied. “OK, but I still don’t understand what makes your garage stand out from the rest,” I told him. As I relayed this exchange to MyFace she looked at me with the look she often gives me and asked, “Are you trying to get fired? Just tell him ‘congratulations,’ and get outta there.”

 

A few weeks later, I was in his office for a meeting with some head honchos from another department. We were discussing the Theory of Constraints, introduced by the late Eliyahu M. Goldratt. My boss had read his book, The Goal, twice, and then loaned it to a coworker to read. The coworker had it in front of him during the meeting. “Did you read the book?” one of the top head honchos asked me. “Oh, yes, twice,” I quickly replied. “Really?” he asked. “No, not really, but he did,” I said pointing to my boss and adding, “I haven’t read it all. I did, however, place a hold on the book at the library.” This was also not true.

 

A few hours later, the office had a little potluck luncheon and there was a ton of leftover food. “I can’t believe how much food there is,” my boss observed, “Like loaves and fishes it grows and grows.” “Is that Dr. Suess?” I asked. He looked at me with an ‘are you serious’ expression, laughed and replied, “That’s the bible.” “Oh, yes, the bible. Another book I’ve not read once or twice,” I replied.

 

As I shared this story with MyFace, she shook her head and said, “Seriously, you are lucky to have a job.” “I didn’t know that was the bible,” I said in defense. “How am I supposed to know? It rhymed, just like green eggs and ham with Sam.” Seriously, though. How am I supposed to know? Green eggs and fishes, I’m outta here bitches.