I don't know shit about the State of Alabama but I now know that they have the biggest cleanest rest stops and the nicest people I've ever met. And those good ole boys and girls don't mind cruisin at 85 mph which suits me just fine. I drove from the space technology city of Huntsville to the deep, deep south in Mobile. Unfortunately I didn't see Mobile in the day time but what I saw was very elegant.
I went through Mobile to meet a former client whom I know well for a few years but only by telephone. I'll call her Elizabeth. It was an unusual and unexpected experience. First, she doesn't look like her telephone voice. I'm sure you've had the experience of meeting someone whom you've spoken to many times but never met in person. You have to imagine what they look like don't you? You don't think of a disembodied voice voice I hope. But don't be as stupid as me to say "You don't look like your voice" without thinking of what you're going to say when she/he asks "What did you think I looked like?" Because when the real answer is I thought you were a six foot tall frumpy old hag with you hair in a bun, and she turns out to be a five foot tall tiny cute bundle of spunk (I'm not talking about Elizabeth.), you better have a quick one-liner ready to go.
The considerate way to start is to describe Elizabeth's home circumstance by saying that she lives with her parents because several years ago she gave up everything she had to pursue her passion and start up a company so she's pouring everything into the company. If I were sarcastic, I'd use her words and say "She's a hundred years old and still lives with her parents." You may say "Awkward, but so what." Well the "so what" is before having dinner I had to meet her folks. The irony of being old enough to be a grandfather and meeting her parents was not lost on me. But guess what. They were a delight. They were in they're mid-80's and charming. I could have talked with her father all night. And her mother looks great and like a true southern lady she was dressed up sitting primly and brightly in the den. They were southern gentility. I was, of course, at my charming best.
In Mobile our dinner choices on Sunday night were pretty limited. These are church going folks who don't do business on Sunday. So we ate at the country club and had the bar area entirely to ourselves. Elizabeth apparently had decided to consume the maximum alcohol possible because I lost count of her drinks. That's fine, sometimes drunks are funny. She was -- while she was awake. Her main sign of drunkenness was asking me "Why Miami Beach" four times. She was tilting as we left. -- I had my first crab omelet and it was excellent. She had some kind of fondue shit that was dripping with calories. And did I mention that the country club closed at 9:00? Wow, what I night out. Meet the parents at 6:30 and drop her off on the doorstep at 9:30. But it was fine and I enjoyed meeting her.
But wait. That wasn't the end. At 7:00 the next morning I got a wake up call that I hadn't ordered. Guess who was in the breakfast room with coffee. If you could have heard what I was saying in my head at that moment it would have shocked even your most vulgar sensibilities. Because of my health limitations I cannot function in the morning. By function I mean I can't walk into the next room which passing out. I need a good hour for my meds to kick in fully. I DO NOT get up at 7:00! But, always the gentleman, I dragged my sorry ass (you know, Shaky Old Bitch) downstairs and collapsed in a chair. She apologized and we had a nice chat -- no eating for me in the morning -- and I said my good byes again and packed up and headed out.
The rest of the day was twelve hours in my car. And no, I did not have any attacks of road rage. I'm sooo mellow now that I'm out of fucking Michigan. I'm in Clearwater Beach now in a dumpy hotel on the Gulf. Tomorrow I relax for a day.
I forgot to tell you about Highway Jesus. He's on I-75 north of Cincinnati. He's a concrete or plaster (or something white)statue of Jesus' torso from the shoulders up with his arms extended skyward. His torso is emerging from a pond. The arms are about 25 feet long and totally out of proportion to his shoulders and head. He has no elbows. He's gigantic. I can't recall that name of the church other than it's not apparent what denomination it is. Far from being a religious icon, it's garishly ugly and in my humble opinion mocks the members' belief. It's stunning. I will say this though. It's evokes a religious response because when you see it you can only say: OH MY GOD!!
I guess the typos in my last blog were pretty entertaining. I apologize for typos and spelling errors tonight. I'm tired. Thanks (or Thinks) for reading.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Day 2 - The Rolling Hills
I rolled trough the rolling hills of Kentucky and the mountains of Tennessee with ease. I saw a lot of brown grass and leave-less trees. Then I saw more of the same. But the drive had only one small event of note. Shaky Old Bitch re-emerged. I was cruising at my usual 82 mph(a nice round number I think)in the fast lane a and guy in a shitty little CR-V pulls ahead of me on the right but he is blocked by a trunk. So he wanted to get over and I didn't let him in. As I passed he pulled over and rode my bumper and flashed his lights. Shazam! Road rage kicked in. After we cleared the truck I started to chase him. I have no idea how or what I was going to do about it, but who said I was rational. - There's a happy ending because I snapped out of my trace and let him go, but what the hell is with me. I'm so mellow - to the point of being catatonic usually. It obviously has something to do with being older and feeling invincible. Stupid.
I arrived in 'Bamy at my long, long time friends Greg and Linda. (By now you know I never use real names. Just feels creepy to to so.) They just moved into their new home a week ago. For the fourth or fifth time I was they first house guest. They barely have furniture but the were as gracious and welcoming as they have been my entire life. My friendship with Greg goes back to fourth grade and I've known Linda for more than 35 years. They have been married 39 years (how the hell do you do that?) and they have probably moved that many times. Must be the key to a successful marriage -- just keep moving.
I told them about my ceaseless attraction and love for the Lovey M (a pseudonym of course) and Linda told me, correctly, that it won't work. But I am not deterred and my ever present rebelliousness makes me all the more determined to make it work. M is just too fascinating and good at heart to let go. I worked soooo hard to find her. Then we reminisced for hours. Why do memories seem much fun and laughable as you get older. I think I know. Don't you?
What would you do if you had the power of God for one minute? My real answer is to eliminate ignorance, but that's boring. My real, real answer is to become Czar of Television Commercials. I would have the complete power to bring the president of the company whose product is advertised on TV right after the commercial. If the commercial said "Up to 50% off . . . and more!" I would say "What does that mean"? Are you giving things away. If it's up to 50% and it's also more, how the fuck much is it? If the commercial said "Three easy payments of $19.95" I'd asked how much that was. I'd ask if they ever considered that they might be tricking people into thinking that $19.95 was the price. If they said " An $80 value, yours for $14.99" I'd ask who had paid $80 dollars for it? And if they added "If you order in the next 10 minutes we'll double you order. Just pay shipping and handling" I'd wonder what cheap piece of shit that was an $80 value could be sold at 2 for $14.95. And don't forget the shipping and handling for $7.95.
Aw, but that's child's play in the world of bullshit commercials. Whoever the cretin is who produced "Viva Viagra" should be brought before the public and be drawn and quartered. What does Viva Viagra mean? Hurray, I can get it up? Thanks for the erection? Whoopee I've got a woody? I'm fine with selling sex. Everyone does it. Everyone just doesn't sign about it. What ever happened to the ground breaking Bob Dole commercials where we first heard "erectile dysfunction". A nice clinical way of saying "We can revive your mojo, Buddy." But sitting around a campfire and signing Viva Viargra? They're all guys!! Mercy me. Let depart this delicate subject by stealing a line I heard in a movie. If you get an erection lasting longer than four hours, send your doctor a letter of thinks!
On to LA (Lower Alabama). Thanks for reading.
I arrived in 'Bamy at my long, long time friends Greg and Linda. (By now you know I never use real names. Just feels creepy to to so.) They just moved into their new home a week ago. For the fourth or fifth time I was they first house guest. They barely have furniture but the were as gracious and welcoming as they have been my entire life. My friendship with Greg goes back to fourth grade and I've known Linda for more than 35 years. They have been married 39 years (how the hell do you do that?) and they have probably moved that many times. Must be the key to a successful marriage -- just keep moving.
I told them about my ceaseless attraction and love for the Lovey M (a pseudonym of course) and Linda told me, correctly, that it won't work. But I am not deterred and my ever present rebelliousness makes me all the more determined to make it work. M is just too fascinating and good at heart to let go. I worked soooo hard to find her. Then we reminisced for hours. Why do memories seem much fun and laughable as you get older. I think I know. Don't you?
What would you do if you had the power of God for one minute? My real answer is to eliminate ignorance, but that's boring. My real, real answer is to become Czar of Television Commercials. I would have the complete power to bring the president of the company whose product is advertised on TV right after the commercial. If the commercial said "Up to 50% off . . . and more!" I would say "What does that mean"? Are you giving things away. If it's up to 50% and it's also more, how the fuck much is it? If the commercial said "Three easy payments of $19.95" I'd asked how much that was. I'd ask if they ever considered that they might be tricking people into thinking that $19.95 was the price. If they said " An $80 value, yours for $14.99" I'd ask who had paid $80 dollars for it? And if they added "If you order in the next 10 minutes we'll double you order. Just pay shipping and handling" I'd wonder what cheap piece of shit that was an $80 value could be sold at 2 for $14.95. And don't forget the shipping and handling for $7.95.
Aw, but that's child's play in the world of bullshit commercials. Whoever the cretin is who produced "Viva Viagra" should be brought before the public and be drawn and quartered. What does Viva Viagra mean? Hurray, I can get it up? Thanks for the erection? Whoopee I've got a woody? I'm fine with selling sex. Everyone does it. Everyone just doesn't sign about it. What ever happened to the ground breaking Bob Dole commercials where we first heard "erectile dysfunction". A nice clinical way of saying "We can revive your mojo, Buddy." But sitting around a campfire and signing Viva Viargra? They're all guys!! Mercy me. Let depart this delicate subject by stealing a line I heard in a movie. If you get an erection lasting longer than four hours, send your doctor a letter of thinks!
On to LA (Lower Alabama). Thanks for reading.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Day 1- Hitting the Road 2009
In 2007 I hit the road for three weeks and covered 6000 miles and fifteen states. I went through the upper Midwest, the great plains, down through
This time it’s south through
My youngest son warned me not to write blogs that make you want to put a gun to your head. Of course you will be the judge of that. I would like to be as funny and contemporary as Lewis Black or George Carlin, but I’m not that smart. Self ridiculing rumor has always worked for me so I think I’ll stick with that.
So I departed for my daughter and son-in-law’s home in
Two hundred yards into the trip I looked at my wrist and noticed it was naked. No problem I forgot to put watches on my Excel spreadsheet list of thing s bring. Very precise, you know. Ok, I walked into the bedroom to retrieve a couple of watches from the monogrammed jewelry valet that the Lovely M gave me (more about her, I’m sure) and what is lying on the bed? Two hanging bags of shirts! But for the forgotten watches I would be buying shirts and a jacket for everyday of the trip. See how much that checklist helped!
On the road to
That brings me to the self-ridiculing humor. It started with a filing lunch and a drive to the mall to walk off some of the fullness. As I turned into the parking lot lane I was surprised to find a non-handicapped space that was right up front. In my seniority (is that the opposite of youth?) I have more and more often copped out for the handicapped spot (later I’ll tell you about the woman who shouted “You don’t look handicapped.”). As I parked I heard a blaring horn and caught a glimpse of some kind of sedan with tinted windows. A big part of my insanity is that I don’t react well to being honked at. All reason immediately departs. So I saw the car pull in and I waited for . . . I’ll call him Squeaky just for yuks. He walked by me and made the mistake of looking at me. Sanity left my body and mind. I uttered those world famous words “What the fuck’s your problem?” Squeaky claimed I sped up and cut in front of him. I didn’t – but that didn’t matter. I have a tremor on my right side that gets worse under stress. He noticed right off. Thus I was adorned with my new nickname “Shaky Old Bitch.” Squeaky loved the term and used it when threatening to kick my ass. He was taken aback when I called him an “ignorant pussy”. And I got up in his face. That gave him pause. We continued to spew invectives through the parking lot up the walk and all the way into the center of the mall. He inquired whether I was 80 years old. Good one. I laughed and got right in his face again. Regrettably Squeaky got an import call on his cell and we stopped. My only regret was that I didn’t punch him in the solar plexus and knock the wind out of him.
I think you know the condition of my health and my age. It is pure insanity to confront 30-year-olds in parking lots. Seems like there is a just a tad of pent up rage looking for release.
On to
Monday, December 15, 2008
Alone at Sea, Day 3
When I awoke the ship was rocking. My head was soon to follow. I couldn’t walk without holding on to the handrail and it wasn’t because we were going through the perfect storm. The water was somewhat choppy but it was mostly my equilibrium. This made a lovely cocktail with my normal morning low blood pressure and lightheadedness. It’s times like this when you just suck it up and do what you can do. I wobbled up and got some sea sickness pills from the purser. I wanted breakfast but each 50 feet toward the restaurant was a major achievement in navigating so the it seemed light years away. I grabbed a muffin as I teetered by and dove for a seat. I slugged through the next two hour like that prepared for an entire day of laying in bed. Fortunately I felt much better after noon and headed up to one of the open decks. My target was the adults only deck which as I expected was crowded but I got a place next to Mrs. Unfortunate Thong and her bejeweled husband and whining teenager. I saw them each day of the cruise and they were a strange lot. Lots of bling, very little zing.
About fifteen minutes after I situated myself next to Senor Bejeweled the sun said goodbye for the day . After an hour of progressively colder breezes I gave up and returned to my cabin. Again I was exhausted from all that relaxing so I napped. Later when I wanted something to eat I went up to one of the slightly-better-than-fast-food restaurants. The bar food was sub-par bar food and the dining room fare was mixed. You know you’re on Wal-Mart cruise lines so you should expect Wal-Mart food. You won’t be disappointed.
There is certainly a diverse group here. Lots of Spanish speakers. Sort of reminds me of the group of people you might see at an amusement park like Cedar Point. Aside from being an elitist, my point is that there was little or no opportunity to find anyone interesting to talk to. Not exactly “my crowd”. I spoke only to the Golden Girls. The Philips, whom I was appalled to learn were not actually both named Philip, do not count because I only spoke to them through the Golden Girls. But that aside I didn’t feel lonely and not too bored. I tried not to think too much how my experience would have been entirely fun with the lovely M at my side. Since I ate at the early seating, it always felt like dinner was fifteen minutes after lunch. At dinner the Golden Girls raved about the pictures of me that the ship’s photographer took every night at dinner. I later took a look. How can you like a picture of yourself?
Dinner was uneventful but I did learn that the sister with no name was actually Lorraine, so I excused myself and promised to meet them at the show. After blogging I headed for the Dynasty Lounge and tonight’s show - Shout. It was decent. Pretty similar to the previous show in theme. Just a hodgepodge of American music and generations. After the conclusion, I said my goodbyes and headed to make my deposit at the casino. As always they accepted my money without a word. After catching the end of Sunday Night Football I packed, set my bag in the hall, gulped some Atavin and nodded off.
Day 4 arrived. Lots of doing nothing waiting to get off this tub. All and all this cruise was not an unpleasant experience, but I won’t do it again. I’ve done at least a dozen solo vacations and although they beat staying at home and freezing your ass off, but they leave much to be desired. This one goes down as the second east interesting solo trip .
I’m now waiting for the plane. Had Pizza Hut pizza for breakfast and I’m ready to ride. Sorry I didn’t do anything stupid this trip -- yet.
See you in the funny papers!
About fifteen minutes after I situated myself next to Senor Bejeweled the sun said goodbye for the day . After an hour of progressively colder breezes I gave up and returned to my cabin. Again I was exhausted from all that relaxing so I napped. Later when I wanted something to eat I went up to one of the slightly-better-than-fast-food restaurants. The bar food was sub-par bar food and the dining room fare was mixed. You know you’re on Wal-Mart cruise lines so you should expect Wal-Mart food. You won’t be disappointed.
There is certainly a diverse group here. Lots of Spanish speakers. Sort of reminds me of the group of people you might see at an amusement park like Cedar Point. Aside from being an elitist, my point is that there was little or no opportunity to find anyone interesting to talk to. Not exactly “my crowd”. I spoke only to the Golden Girls. The Philips, whom I was appalled to learn were not actually both named Philip, do not count because I only spoke to them through the Golden Girls. But that aside I didn’t feel lonely and not too bored. I tried not to think too much how my experience would have been entirely fun with the lovely M at my side. Since I ate at the early seating, it always felt like dinner was fifteen minutes after lunch. At dinner the Golden Girls raved about the pictures of me that the ship’s photographer took every night at dinner. I later took a look. How can you like a picture of yourself?
Dinner was uneventful but I did learn that the sister with no name was actually Lorraine, so I excused myself and promised to meet them at the show. After blogging I headed for the Dynasty Lounge and tonight’s show - Shout. It was decent. Pretty similar to the previous show in theme. Just a hodgepodge of American music and generations. After the conclusion, I said my goodbyes and headed to make my deposit at the casino. As always they accepted my money without a word. After catching the end of Sunday Night Football I packed, set my bag in the hall, gulped some Atavin and nodded off.
Day 4 arrived. Lots of doing nothing waiting to get off this tub. All and all this cruise was not an unpleasant experience, but I won’t do it again. I’ve done at least a dozen solo vacations and although they beat staying at home and freezing your ass off, but they leave much to be desired. This one goes down as the second east interesting solo trip .
I’m now waiting for the plane. Had Pizza Hut pizza for breakfast and I’m ready to ride. Sorry I didn’t do anything stupid this trip -- yet.
See you in the funny papers!
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Alone at Sea, Day 2
Slept through the docking in Nassau at 10:00AM and chose to remain on the ship all day. What was I going to do in Nassau. Shop? Turns out I found the Serenity deck which was adults only and very uncrowded -- doubt that I’ll find the same tomorrow. I don’t know what the temperature is -- I’d guess in the low/mid 70’s. But with the ocean breeze it was truly ideal even though it was totally overcast later in the afternoon. I took my laptop and my camera -- which I have used for a paper weight so far -- and some stuff and camped out. It was overcast enough that I could use my laptop in the sun so I wrote yesterday’s blog in the blissful warmth. This is what a vacation is to me. Being warm and relaxed. Just chillin.
I was so exhausted from relaxing that I needed a nap. Soon it was formal dinner night and since I own my own tux, viola, I wore a tux. Didn’t see another guy who wasn’t working there in a tux. I looked pretty good. Regrettably the two Philips did not join me and the Golden Girls for dinner. I believe they were injecting or imbibing whatever it is they drink or inject. There was a small spat between the sister-whose-name-I-don’t-know and Erica-the-friend over where I would sit. Mercifully no cat fight ensued. The rest of the meal was unremarkable except that I choose to have turkey breast in white sauce with pasta -- really bad. The Girls all ate two servings of lobster tails. None of them are shy about packing it in. I learned from the sister with no name that there was a well known flamenco guitarist on board who was hosting a private tour group. She told me twice that she tried to upgrade their free tickets (sister Linda won two free tickets to the cruise) but the rude agent wouldn’t agree. I smiled politely.
After dinner, a show! Wow, just like being on Broadway. I asked the Girls to save me a seat and I quickly adjourned to my room. After a brief look at email I headed to the casino to try to continue my unlucky streak that’s been going on since, let’s see . . . Forever. Would you believe it? I was successful -- my luck is unwaveringly bad. Off to the show. When I found the sister with no name there the theatre was hosting a bingo game until the “real” entertainment began. It’s one thing to play bingo, but watching bingo is just there with watching someone pump gas. Mercifully it was over quickly and the show began -- Living in America. I was expecting something pretty amateurish and through the first half dozen numbers I was thinking a decent high school music department could do this. Of course, I doubt the show girls would have butt floss bottoms in high school like these girls did but who knows. The energy level really skyrocketed from there. Being an addictive people watcher, I never watch the show -- I watch people. She’s got a gut. He’s out of sync. She’s bursting with energy. I wonder how old that girl singer is. How’d she get here? On the way down or never made it at all? I wonder how many of these kids are still trying to make it big. It’s fascinating to me. All in all the show was very entertaining.
But it really, really made me miss the lovely M. I know she would say that it’s my fault that she wasn’t with me -- and she’d be right. But it’s just the kind of thing that’s 100% better when you’re with someone that you’re excited about. And she really excites me. At the moment I am trying to convince me to give me yet another chance at love. So I must be very careful that I express myself clearly. For example, M agreed to meet me to talk on the day before I went on the cruise. Now I knew a genie was not going to pop out of a bottle and grant me three wishes, but if he did my first wish would have been that she would come with me -- just like that, on the spur of the moment. Of course reality plays havoc with such fantasies, but I gave it a shot. {You have noticed I’m alone, haven’t you?} But we talked for almost two hours and she really let me have it -- and it was a revelation. Once I turned off my defensiveness and tried to listen and imagine how my behavior these past couple of months looked to her, I really felt like a light bulb went on and yet again I really learned something about M and about me too. I’m pretty sure I now understand what it will take on my part to understand her and to re-claim her love. Here’s the place where I could write pages about M and my feelings for her and my insights into her and how she became the woman she is now. But that’s not for the reader. So watch this space in the future to see if Jimi boy can stay true to his word and win back his dream girl. My children must cringe when they read this stuff.
After the show I said good night to my companions -- whose only memorable remark the entire evening was “You sit here, Jim. A rose between two thorns.” BTW, what was the name of Bea Arthur’s character on Golden Girls? I know she was scary and I couldn’t understand why her character would be attractive to any man. She looked like a man-eater, meat-grinder, sore-loser. I returned to the casino. Made a small deposit. And returned to my luxurious cabin to sleep.
I was so exhausted from relaxing that I needed a nap. Soon it was formal dinner night and since I own my own tux, viola, I wore a tux. Didn’t see another guy who wasn’t working there in a tux. I looked pretty good. Regrettably the two Philips did not join me and the Golden Girls for dinner. I believe they were injecting or imbibing whatever it is they drink or inject. There was a small spat between the sister-whose-name-I-don’t-know and Erica-the-friend over where I would sit. Mercifully no cat fight ensued. The rest of the meal was unremarkable except that I choose to have turkey breast in white sauce with pasta -- really bad. The Girls all ate two servings of lobster tails. None of them are shy about packing it in. I learned from the sister with no name that there was a well known flamenco guitarist on board who was hosting a private tour group. She told me twice that she tried to upgrade their free tickets (sister Linda won two free tickets to the cruise) but the rude agent wouldn’t agree. I smiled politely.
After dinner, a show! Wow, just like being on Broadway. I asked the Girls to save me a seat and I quickly adjourned to my room. After a brief look at email I headed to the casino to try to continue my unlucky streak that’s been going on since, let’s see . . . Forever. Would you believe it? I was successful -- my luck is unwaveringly bad. Off to the show. When I found the sister with no name there the theatre was hosting a bingo game until the “real” entertainment began. It’s one thing to play bingo, but watching bingo is just there with watching someone pump gas. Mercifully it was over quickly and the show began -- Living in America. I was expecting something pretty amateurish and through the first half dozen numbers I was thinking a decent high school music department could do this. Of course, I doubt the show girls would have butt floss bottoms in high school like these girls did but who knows. The energy level really skyrocketed from there. Being an addictive people watcher, I never watch the show -- I watch people. She’s got a gut. He’s out of sync. She’s bursting with energy. I wonder how old that girl singer is. How’d she get here? On the way down or never made it at all? I wonder how many of these kids are still trying to make it big. It’s fascinating to me. All in all the show was very entertaining.
But it really, really made me miss the lovely M. I know she would say that it’s my fault that she wasn’t with me -- and she’d be right. But it’s just the kind of thing that’s 100% better when you’re with someone that you’re excited about. And she really excites me. At the moment I am trying to convince me to give me yet another chance at love. So I must be very careful that I express myself clearly. For example, M agreed to meet me to talk on the day before I went on the cruise. Now I knew a genie was not going to pop out of a bottle and grant me three wishes, but if he did my first wish would have been that she would come with me -- just like that, on the spur of the moment. Of course reality plays havoc with such fantasies, but I gave it a shot. {You have noticed I’m alone, haven’t you?} But we talked for almost two hours and she really let me have it -- and it was a revelation. Once I turned off my defensiveness and tried to listen and imagine how my behavior these past couple of months looked to her, I really felt like a light bulb went on and yet again I really learned something about M and about me too. I’m pretty sure I now understand what it will take on my part to understand her and to re-claim her love. Here’s the place where I could write pages about M and my feelings for her and my insights into her and how she became the woman she is now. But that’s not for the reader. So watch this space in the future to see if Jimi boy can stay true to his word and win back his dream girl. My children must cringe when they read this stuff.
After the show I said good night to my companions -- whose only memorable remark the entire evening was “You sit here, Jim. A rose between two thorns.” BTW, what was the name of Bea Arthur’s character on Golden Girls? I know she was scary and I couldn’t understand why her character would be attractive to any man. She looked like a man-eater, meat-grinder, sore-loser. I returned to the casino. Made a small deposit. And returned to my luxurious cabin to sleep.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Alone at Sea
It’s December so it must mean that your humble writer is taking a trip to the tropics alone. Yes that’s two straight Decembers that I’ve managed to pay for a trip with my girlfriend for fun in the sun and have ended up with no girlfriend and no fun . . . Through no one’s fault but mine. More about that later.
So Friday morning I wake up very early but still too late, because although I set the time on my alarm clock, I didn’t turn the alarm on. Always a bad omen to try to hurry and get ready early in the morning when you blood pressure is hovering around 70/50. Anthony had an 8:00 AM exam and my flight was at 9:15, so we were of to the airport at 7:00AM. Anthony was driving me in a really nice little BMW 335 that seems to be a bit too nice a car for a college freshman. Guess maybe he was warming up for the weekend in his new wheels. Since the car seems eerily like my brand new BWM I was hopeful that he would show it the respect due and not push the little turbo charged 300 hp engine to its limit. His former transportation -- you remember that 2001 GTI he had to have? -- is a bit peeked because the clutch has given up the ghost even though he has just sold his soul to put 4 new tires on it. A lemon by any other acronym is still a lemon.
We arrived on time and I got through security painlessly and headed for the National Koney Island for breakfast. Not bad for airport food. I ate and headed for the plane. I had what I though was a really good seat near first class. Unfortunately the online diagram of the plane was not a match for the real life plane. I settled into my window seat -- something I avoid like the plague -- and hoped for the best. The best turned out to be a mother and baby - an unhappy baby. I was cool about it. As long as I didn’t have to get up to pee which would make her move the 9,000 pounds of snacks and shit she had on her tray. Fortunately I made it through easily and logged away the experience regarding not trusting the seat diagram -- there were supposed to be two handicapped seats, i.e., empty spaces, next to me. The kid was pretty unhappy about staying in his seat for landing but he was just expressing how we all felt about being packed in like sardines.
I took the bus to the Port of Miami and after tipping about 12 people -- “don’t forget your bus driver“-- I checked in on board the lovely Carnival Imagination, or as I came to know it, Chuck E. Cheese At Sea. Wal-Mart Cruise Lines, oops I mean Carnival Cruise lines is truly the man on the street’s cruise -- and his children’s cruise line. You want beautiful people? Turn around and walk down to the Norwegian ship ‘cause they ain’t here. It’s an eclectic group with non-whites probably in the majority. Fine by me but fat ugly people eating ice cream cones regardless of their color or nationality look just as gross as those fat ugly people eating ice cream cones on Mackinaw Island. Well maybe they’re better here ‘cause they don’t glow in the dark like us whities do.
I had one urgent concern -when I arrived at the ship. Where I was going to sit for dinner. I was assigned to the late seating at 8:15 PM which was good, but would I again share space with mothers and unhappy or worse yet, happy kiddies. I accepted a singles table at the 6:00PM seating with a sense of foreboding. In my extensive travels most of the single people over thirty that I observe to be single and traveling with friends are single for reasons that are immediately apparent. Also lots of gay couples travel together (would they travel apart?) and avoid kids. So I entered the dining hall repeating a silent prayer “ “God, please grant me a miracle. Please, God!” Why I expected results for a non-believer is a small mystery but my prayers were not answered. On the other hand My best guess was right on the mark. Waiting with their oh-please-let-me-meet-a-man smiles of expectation were three matronly sisters and their equally matronly friend. The oldest sister was wheelchair bound. {Ok, stop here and laugh at me in my usual what-the-fuck-do-I do-now circumstance.} They had just come from central casting having just read for the lead in Golden Girls but none of them was as hot as Bea Arthur. Hard by approached a gay couple both named Philip. They were salt and pepper and Phillip One was shaking so hard he made my tremor unnoticeable. Me think they had playtime in the cabin before dinner.
Now that I’ve taken my shots at them, I’d be lying to say that the women weren’t interesting to talk to. The non-sister (sorry I missed the names) kept winking at me. Yikes! We talked about traveling and the Philips just shook. Philip Two was too cold.
After dinner I was exhausted and having had many episodes of lightheadedness I repaired to my cabin and fell asleep. At eleven I woke and still felt sea sick so I wanted so air. I wanted to eat too but I just restarted Weight Watchers five days ago, so I wanted to maintain my diet. So I wanders. I love standing on the bow and watching the ocean -- day and night. At you’re often all alone which is a pretty soothing feeling. When I saw too cold for any more standing in the wind I wandered into the casinos. I didn’t loose all my money which is an improvement.
Now to sleep again.
So Friday morning I wake up very early but still too late, because although I set the time on my alarm clock, I didn’t turn the alarm on. Always a bad omen to try to hurry and get ready early in the morning when you blood pressure is hovering around 70/50. Anthony had an 8:00 AM exam and my flight was at 9:15, so we were of to the airport at 7:00AM. Anthony was driving me in a really nice little BMW 335 that seems to be a bit too nice a car for a college freshman. Guess maybe he was warming up for the weekend in his new wheels. Since the car seems eerily like my brand new BWM I was hopeful that he would show it the respect due and not push the little turbo charged 300 hp engine to its limit. His former transportation -- you remember that 2001 GTI he had to have? -- is a bit peeked because the clutch has given up the ghost even though he has just sold his soul to put 4 new tires on it. A lemon by any other acronym is still a lemon.
We arrived on time and I got through security painlessly and headed for the National Koney Island for breakfast. Not bad for airport food. I ate and headed for the plane. I had what I though was a really good seat near first class. Unfortunately the online diagram of the plane was not a match for the real life plane. I settled into my window seat -- something I avoid like the plague -- and hoped for the best. The best turned out to be a mother and baby - an unhappy baby. I was cool about it. As long as I didn’t have to get up to pee which would make her move the 9,000 pounds of snacks and shit she had on her tray. Fortunately I made it through easily and logged away the experience regarding not trusting the seat diagram -- there were supposed to be two handicapped seats, i.e., empty spaces, next to me. The kid was pretty unhappy about staying in his seat for landing but he was just expressing how we all felt about being packed in like sardines.
I took the bus to the Port of Miami and after tipping about 12 people -- “don’t forget your bus driver“-- I checked in on board the lovely Carnival Imagination, or as I came to know it, Chuck E. Cheese At Sea. Wal-Mart Cruise Lines, oops I mean Carnival Cruise lines is truly the man on the street’s cruise -- and his children’s cruise line. You want beautiful people? Turn around and walk down to the Norwegian ship ‘cause they ain’t here. It’s an eclectic group with non-whites probably in the majority. Fine by me but fat ugly people eating ice cream cones regardless of their color or nationality look just as gross as those fat ugly people eating ice cream cones on Mackinaw Island. Well maybe they’re better here ‘cause they don’t glow in the dark like us whities do.
I had one urgent concern -when I arrived at the ship. Where I was going to sit for dinner. I was assigned to the late seating at 8:15 PM which was good, but would I again share space with mothers and unhappy or worse yet, happy kiddies. I accepted a singles table at the 6:00PM seating with a sense of foreboding. In my extensive travels most of the single people over thirty that I observe to be single and traveling with friends are single for reasons that are immediately apparent. Also lots of gay couples travel together (would they travel apart?) and avoid kids. So I entered the dining hall repeating a silent prayer “ “God, please grant me a miracle. Please, God!” Why I expected results for a non-believer is a small mystery but my prayers were not answered. On the other hand My best guess was right on the mark. Waiting with their oh-please-let-me-meet-a-man smiles of expectation were three matronly sisters and their equally matronly friend. The oldest sister was wheelchair bound. {Ok, stop here and laugh at me in my usual what-the-fuck-do-I do-now circumstance.} They had just come from central casting having just read for the lead in Golden Girls but none of them was as hot as Bea Arthur. Hard by approached a gay couple both named Philip. They were salt and pepper and Phillip One was shaking so hard he made my tremor unnoticeable. Me think they had playtime in the cabin before dinner.
Now that I’ve taken my shots at them, I’d be lying to say that the women weren’t interesting to talk to. The non-sister (sorry I missed the names) kept winking at me. Yikes! We talked about traveling and the Philips just shook. Philip Two was too cold.
After dinner I was exhausted and having had many episodes of lightheadedness I repaired to my cabin and fell asleep. At eleven I woke and still felt sea sick so I wanted so air. I wanted to eat too but I just restarted Weight Watchers five days ago, so I wanted to maintain my diet. So I wanders. I love standing on the bow and watching the ocean -- day and night. At you’re often all alone which is a pretty soothing feeling. When I saw too cold for any more standing in the wind I wandered into the casinos. I didn’t loose all my money which is an improvement.
Now to sleep again.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Back in the Saddle
The Lovely M and I have parted so it's time to get back aboard the horse and ride. Time to write something good. Hmm.
For example, nothing beats being the father of the bride. Maybe being present when the bride was born -- but not much else comes close. Funny how all those cliches and corny stuff you've heard and seen about how it makes a guy feel becomes so real. Of course, you're bursting with pride and amazement. How could this beautiful, graceful, poised young woman be the same darling little beauty that you used to sweep up into your arms and carry? I will never forget my amazement a few years ago when I was with my kids in Colorado for my brother's wedding and I was driving up to the parking lot of the park where the ceremony would happen. I saw these two stunning young women from a distance and wondered who they could be. My girls! My god they were women and total knock outs. In October when I saw Clare (NHRN) for the first time in her wedding dress I was awed. Wow my little girl moving on with her life as an adult. It became real at that moment. And if you don't feel that momentary sadness that another man is taking your place as the main man in her life, then you're kidding yourself.
One of the great joys of parenthood is watching your children succeed and become responsible adults. It's so humbling. You know that you must have done pretty well to raise such a wonderful person but it's hard to accept that you had much to do with it. It feels like you were just struggling along doing what you could and trying not to screw up too bad when, Shazam, there stands a fully grown adult who is going to be a wonderful citizen of the world. I've always thought that my first responsibility to society is to raise my kids to be good people and responsible citizens. When I first saw this happening I was amazed -- now I just simmer with pride.
And for example, there's falling in and out of love -- not too sure about the falling out of love part. I saw a picture of the lovely M by chance yesterday and I had to turn away it made me so sad. I was so sure that I could make this one work. But it didn't. So again I get to ask myself the time honored cliche "Was it better to have loved and lost . . . ?" Right now I'd say, no it wasn't. It was too little of a great thing. Far too little. I enjoyed her company as much as is possible. She was truly an expert at fun; having spent many years perfecting the skill and looking for someone to share the fun with.
I really can't go on about M without (a) putting myself down yet again -- you know, another failed relationship or (b) revealing more than a gentleman would. So on to whatever is next. And what wonderful timing -- the lovely holidays with their good cheer. Ever thing about the damn holidays reminds you that you have no one to celebrate with -- or to soothe you after the I'm-having-so-much-fun-my-fucking-head-is going-to-explode times with family. When I publish my memories I'll spill my guts on all of my most recent love affair.
Remember Romy and Michele -- not the movie characters -- the pseudonyms for my too good friends from "the karaoke bar". I don't know what I have ever done to deserve such good friends but whatever it is I should do more. They are great. Romy is so thoughtful and considerate and giving she should get a medal of honor. We have been hanging out at the bar again and they are trying to convince me to get up and sing. Holy shit! What a terrifying concept for everybody.
So another December rolls around and I am heading South on a trip that was intended for me and a companion but she is AWOL. Last year's adventure proved to be far more interesting when I returned and wrote my blog. I got some interesting comments from Anonymous that lead me to wonder who this mysterious person was. I solved the mystery but it would have been more fun to still be wondering. This time I taking a solo cruise to to the Bahamas for the weekend. Both the cruise and the flight was already paid for because I had them left from prior fucked-up-disasters. When I hit the road you know that calamity is right behind me, so we'll see what stupid human tricks I pull this time.
Thanks for reading.
J
For example, nothing beats being the father of the bride. Maybe being present when the bride was born -- but not much else comes close. Funny how all those cliches and corny stuff you've heard and seen about how it makes a guy feel becomes so real. Of course, you're bursting with pride and amazement. How could this beautiful, graceful, poised young woman be the same darling little beauty that you used to sweep up into your arms and carry? I will never forget my amazement a few years ago when I was with my kids in Colorado for my brother's wedding and I was driving up to the parking lot of the park where the ceremony would happen. I saw these two stunning young women from a distance and wondered who they could be. My girls! My god they were women and total knock outs. In October when I saw Clare (NHRN) for the first time in her wedding dress I was awed. Wow my little girl moving on with her life as an adult. It became real at that moment. And if you don't feel that momentary sadness that another man is taking your place as the main man in her life, then you're kidding yourself.
One of the great joys of parenthood is watching your children succeed and become responsible adults. It's so humbling. You know that you must have done pretty well to raise such a wonderful person but it's hard to accept that you had much to do with it. It feels like you were just struggling along doing what you could and trying not to screw up too bad when, Shazam, there stands a fully grown adult who is going to be a wonderful citizen of the world. I've always thought that my first responsibility to society is to raise my kids to be good people and responsible citizens. When I first saw this happening I was amazed -- now I just simmer with pride.
And for example, there's falling in and out of love -- not too sure about the falling out of love part. I saw a picture of the lovely M by chance yesterday and I had to turn away it made me so sad. I was so sure that I could make this one work. But it didn't. So again I get to ask myself the time honored cliche "Was it better to have loved and lost . . . ?" Right now I'd say, no it wasn't. It was too little of a great thing. Far too little. I enjoyed her company as much as is possible. She was truly an expert at fun; having spent many years perfecting the skill and looking for someone to share the fun with.
I really can't go on about M without (a) putting myself down yet again -- you know, another failed relationship or (b) revealing more than a gentleman would. So on to whatever is next. And what wonderful timing -- the lovely holidays with their good cheer. Ever thing about the damn holidays reminds you that you have no one to celebrate with -- or to soothe you after the I'm-having-so-much-fun-my-fucking-head-is going-to-explode times with family. When I publish my memories I'll spill my guts on all of my most recent love affair.
Remember Romy and Michele -- not the movie characters -- the pseudonyms for my too good friends from "the karaoke bar". I don't know what I have ever done to deserve such good friends but whatever it is I should do more. They are great. Romy is so thoughtful and considerate and giving she should get a medal of honor. We have been hanging out at the bar again and they are trying to convince me to get up and sing. Holy shit! What a terrifying concept for everybody.
So another December rolls around and I am heading South on a trip that was intended for me and a companion but she is AWOL. Last year's adventure proved to be far more interesting when I returned and wrote my blog. I got some interesting comments from Anonymous that lead me to wonder who this mysterious person was. I solved the mystery but it would have been more fun to still be wondering. This time I taking a solo cruise to to the Bahamas for the weekend. Both the cruise and the flight was already paid for because I had them left from prior fucked-up-disasters. When I hit the road you know that calamity is right behind me, so we'll see what stupid human tricks I pull this time.
Thanks for reading.
J
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