Well I guess I've painted myself into a corner haven't I? I have a ton of stuff -- good stuff -- to write about but I don't want my friends and family to be reading about themselves, now do I?
For example, I have the two great friends, Romy and Michele. You've seen their High School reunion? They have graciously included me in their group of friends who hang out at the exotic Highway Cafe. And I mean exotic! We meet late on Friday night before the karaoke starts at 10:00. I never would have thought that I’d be hanging out on karaoke night, but there I am having a great time -- okay, not always great but I always enjoy myself. Romy sings and Michele watches. Romy is an excellent singer -- does great on Amy Winehouse stuff. There are other new acquaintances of course. Donny the mild mannered nice guy is always a pleasure to be around, even though he speaks so quietly that I usually nod and smile a lot with no fucking clue what he said. He sings to -- King of the Road is a favorite of his. Oh yes, and dances! Usually Marsha and Tommy come by as well. I think they are newly housemates. And there are loads of other people whom I can't make up names for because I barely know their real names.
My big problem with the place is smoke -- but what would I rather do: Sit home in a smoke free environment or be with friends at the bar? I can wash the smoke out of my clothes but I don't have nearly as much fun with imaginary friends at home. Pause . . .
Okay, I've been thinking about parenting as a topic for blogging -- my god, I just used the word blogging - and now I have a segue into it: imaginary friends. My kids had imaginary friends, but Rob’s was the best. His name was Brian and he was really well developed. He was amazingly real, except for the minor detail that we could never see him. We knew exactly where Brian lived because as we drove down the street near our house, Rob (well then he was Robbie) pointed out where Brian lived. Brian and Rob used to do all kinds of stuff together and when they were done, Brain went home. When Brain had done his time and needed to go, he didn’t just cease to exist. He moved to California. We know because we stopped at his house and when I said I was going up to knock on the door, Rob told me that Brain had moved . . . we never heard from Brain again. The point is that nothing in the universe beats being a parent. Yes I admit adolescence is shitty, but the rest is great. Now that my kids are young adults, or Chris’s case, adult period, I am finding out that this is just as great as when they are little. My personal favorites are two year olds. Forget that terrible two’s stuff. Nothing beats talking with a two year old. They are so bright and full of wonder and clarity. If you just talk TO them and not AT them, you’d be amazed at how lucid the conversation can be. Kids are a wonder.
Back at the bar, kids aren’t allowed. Well, people under twenty-one aren’t allowed in. There are lots of kids there. Lots of genuine salt-of-the-earth people. Very comfortable – so far. People watching is good. Last week Dancing Cindy and her husband were there. Regrettably Dancing Cindy, who did not wear her underwear on the outside, sorry to say, did not dance or sing. However her husband serenaded us with sounds that made you look up and say “Why?”
Romy and I used to work together – I was her boss. She has been the best friend imaginable. I’ve been away from work for two years now and we still have lunch almost every week. She’s terrific. Michele is Romy’s best friend from always and has been terrific to me. She is interested (or pretends to be in a very convincing way) in my adventures and we have yoga class with Marsha and Tommy. She knows my son -- remember him? Brian’s friend.
So that is the best I can do at dancing around the surface – the real nitty gritty goes in The Book. See you at the bar!
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Sunday, March 2, 2008
Sitting Around at 2:00AM
This is exciting, you know? Writing a blog in the middle of the night. My mind is free of the day's burdens and I can concentrate on . . . yes, I know I don't have any burdens, but still . . .
Well, I did it. I sat right there in the offices of Great Expectations and paid a fortune – five times what I would put down on a new car – for a dating service. WHat the hell could I have been thinking?
And what do all dating services sell? Their membership list. That’s all they have to offer. Every one, including efuckingharmony, deceives you into thinking that they have a black box from which they will produce your ideal match and all you have to do is just describe in excruciating detail whom it is you want to meet. They neglect to mention that they can only match you up with other people who have joined their service. You want a tall forty year old Ph.D. from Manhattan who likes sailing and romantic walks after dark? Good luck. They have only two Ph.D.’s from Butte who are 5’ 4”.
You’d think after three years of It’s Just Lunch – which I laugh to think that I used to believe it was expensive – I’d be wise to the allure of paying to meet Ms. Right. Actually, I’ve met Ms. Right more than once and she was wonderful – I was just wasn’t prepared to be Mr. Right. So here I am, the man who used to negotiate deals for a living and I ask the attractive (big surprise: attractive young woman selling a dating service to a middle aged man!) sales woman to show me what I’m buying. Nope, can’t do that; privacy you know. Okay, show me a demo of your system. No, can’t do that either. And I still did it! Why?
Frustration? Desperation? Showing off? Hoping against hope? Whatever, I did it. You should have seen me after I did the first search on new members in the Detroit office? It was the same thing that you get on BABYBOOMER peoplematch.com for 15 bucks a month --okay, at least most GE people had pictures. I felt like puking or crying. Page after page of women in whom I have no interest. Yes, I know I’m picky, very, very picky. That’s what I thought I was buying – select group of people who were willing to lay out serious cash to meet someone. Well, not so fast big boy. -- Let me stop and say, least I come off as the elitist that I am, I’m talking about compatibility and common interests; not making value judgments. And while I’m making a point, the women I have spoken to from GE have been wonderfully smart and attractive and personable. The other 90% who have selected me . . .not so much.
Check this scam out. When you search, for example, all women from the Detroit office, it includes women “who visit your city”. So you sit there thinking that these women have answered a question somewhere says: “What cities do you frequently visit?” And they said “Detroit”. Nope. It just means they have a global member ship with access to all 50 offices whether or not they’ve every been to Detroit, Palo Alto, Cleveland or where ever. So 50% of the result list lives far, far away and you have no shot with them. Before I realized this, I kept asking myself why am I being selected by all these women in Florida, Connecticut, California and BFE? Because I show up as visiting their city, I guess.
The punch line is this. It’s a bitch to find the right person. You say you already knew that. Yeah, me too - but you didn’t spend a fortune to find out!
Well, I did it. I sat right there in the offices of Great Expectations and paid a fortune – five times what I would put down on a new car – for a dating service. WHat the hell could I have been thinking?
And what do all dating services sell? Their membership list. That’s all they have to offer. Every one, including efuckingharmony, deceives you into thinking that they have a black box from which they will produce your ideal match and all you have to do is just describe in excruciating detail whom it is you want to meet. They neglect to mention that they can only match you up with other people who have joined their service. You want a tall forty year old Ph.D. from Manhattan who likes sailing and romantic walks after dark? Good luck. They have only two Ph.D.’s from Butte who are 5’ 4”.
You’d think after three years of It’s Just Lunch – which I laugh to think that I used to believe it was expensive – I’d be wise to the allure of paying to meet Ms. Right. Actually, I’ve met Ms. Right more than once and she was wonderful – I was just wasn’t prepared to be Mr. Right. So here I am, the man who used to negotiate deals for a living and I ask the attractive (big surprise: attractive young woman selling a dating service to a middle aged man!) sales woman to show me what I’m buying. Nope, can’t do that; privacy you know. Okay, show me a demo of your system. No, can’t do that either. And I still did it! Why?
Frustration? Desperation? Showing off? Hoping against hope? Whatever, I did it. You should have seen me after I did the first search on new members in the Detroit office? It was the same thing that you get on BABYBOOMER peoplematch.com for 15 bucks a month --okay, at least most GE people had pictures. I felt like puking or crying. Page after page of women in whom I have no interest. Yes, I know I’m picky, very, very picky. That’s what I thought I was buying – select group of people who were willing to lay out serious cash to meet someone. Well, not so fast big boy. -- Let me stop and say, least I come off as the elitist that I am, I’m talking about compatibility and common interests; not making value judgments. And while I’m making a point, the women I have spoken to from GE have been wonderfully smart and attractive and personable. The other 90% who have selected me . . .not so much.
Check this scam out. When you search, for example, all women from the Detroit office, it includes women “who visit your city”. So you sit there thinking that these women have answered a question somewhere says: “What cities do you frequently visit?” And they said “Detroit”. Nope. It just means they have a global member ship with access to all 50 offices whether or not they’ve every been to Detroit, Palo Alto, Cleveland or where ever. So 50% of the result list lives far, far away and you have no shot with them. Before I realized this, I kept asking myself why am I being selected by all these women in Florida, Connecticut, California and BFE? Because I show up as visiting their city, I guess.
The punch line is this. It’s a bitch to find the right person. You say you already knew that. Yeah, me too - but you didn’t spend a fortune to find out!
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
At the Movies . . . Again
I had this blog written the other day and when I went to cut and paste it into a word document so I could spell check it, I cut and deleted it. So here I go again. Maybe they'll fix the fucking spell checking on this thing some day.
I watch a lot of movies -- maybe 30-35 a month. I watch DVD's faster than Netflix can send them to me, so I have to hit Blockbuster or the local video rental place once a week. Here's a hint: when you go to Blockbuster, start at the beginning of the alphabet. There are more watchable movies in the numeric's, A's, B's and C's than in the rest of the alphabet. I always seem to find something like Angel-A (or Angela) that I have never heard of which is really good.
In the past 6 days I have seen 6 movies, three of which were really good. Morgan Freeman was in two of them, but even he couldn't save the one that should have been really good. I'll start with the best.
The Namesake. I loved it. Not only was it beautiful to look at, it was smartly written. It's a story of contrasts -- New York and Calcutta; old world values and modern American kids. It's the story of an Indian couple who move to New York and have two kids. Their son, Gogol, is the namesake -- for the Russian writer Nicholi Gogol. Since the boy's name is Gogol Ganguli, he is embarrassed by it and wants to go by his "good name" Nicholas. As the movie progresses, he comes to learn the significance of the name Gogol in his father's life.
The cast is terrific. Kal Penn of Harold and Kumar fame is sincere and believable as Gogol. The mother Ashima is played by an Indian actress named Tatu and she is beautiful and strong and unflappable. I particularly liked the scene where the family visits Calcutta and the kids are seeing India for the first time. It was very realistic and fascinating. Rather than describe it further I recommend you see it.
10 Items or Less. I loved it. This is a little film, that was shot in 15 days, that I knew nothing about and was totally taken with. Morgan Freeman plays a has-been actor "doing research for a project" he might consider at a market in Southern California. Paz Vega is the Spanish immigrant who is the checker at the 10 Items or Less Lane. The movie is the story of their unlikely collaboration and friendship. They are both wonderful and the script is smart and very clever. From the moment Scarlet (Paz Vega) appears on screen I was totally taken by her strength, smarts and weariness. I immediately wanted to know this woman. And Freeman's character, called Him, is charming and disarming (are they the same thing?) and completely likable.
Scarlet is trapped with an idiot husband from whom she is separated and a dead end job. "Him" coaches her through a transformation to get ready for a job as interview as an office manager. You may have to suspend disbelief a little, but it's so well written you don't care. The final scene is the perfect ending. I also recommend it.
Adrift in Manhattan. I liked it. It’s the story of three lonely people whose lives intersect in Manhattan. Tommaso, played by Dominic Chianese who is best known as Junior Soprano, stole the show with is portrayal of an aging painter who earns a living working in a corporate mailroom and is losing his sight. He meets Isabel, played by Elizabeth Peńa, at work and a romance begins. Both characters have smart dialogue to deliver and play a mature couple falling in love with grace and supreme dignity. I loved them. Heather Graham plays Rose an eye doctor who is treating Tommaso and trying to cope with the death of her two-year old son. Billy Baldwin plays her estranged husband. Finally there is Simon a socially retarded teenager with an overbearing mother who begins to follow and photograph Rose after being attracted by her scarf.
The movie was unknown to me be fore I saw it and turned out to be a real find in the “A’s” at Blockbuster.
A Feast of Love. I didn’t like it. With Morgan Freeman, Jane Alexander, Greg Kinnear, Rahda Mitchell and Alexa Davalos, and a big name director, this should have been a better movie than Adrift in Manhattan. It's not. The plots of these two films have some similarities -- there’s a tarot reading in each of them – in that they involve the intersection of several lives. Freeman and Alexander are a college professor on leave and his wife who have lost their grown son to a heroin overdose; all the while unaware of his addiction. Kinnear is a sap with a heart of gold who gets dumped twice – his first wife leaves him for a woman and his second (Mitchell) for her long time lover. Alexa Davalos as Chloe is the heart of the movie and has more inner strength than any of characters around her.
I couldn’t buy the script and Kinnear seems way too goofy to attract Diane (Mitchell).
Payback: Straight Up – The Director’s Cut. Great movie. If you have seen the 1999 theatrical version of this Mel Gibson gritty hardboiled thriller, you know it a really good movie. The Director’s Cut is very different and is much closer to the novel The Hunter by Donald E. Westlake writing as Richard Stark. Gibson’s character Porter was double crossed by his wife and his partner in crime – gunned down and left for dead. His cut of the take was $70,000 and he wants it back – and not a penny more. Porter is without redeeming qualities – he’s a killer – but his doggedness and ferocity make him interesting. Lucy Lui and Maria Bello make their first appearances in a major film and both are good. Mario Bello, thanks to A History of Violence, is my current Hollywood queen. This version is so much darker and gritty than the theatrical version that I preferred it.
The Ten. A piece of absolute shit masquerading as a comedy. It features ten scenes which are somehow supposed to illustrate the Ten Commandments. Yuk.
Hope you enjoyed this and will see at least one of these movies.
I watch a lot of movies -- maybe 30-35 a month. I watch DVD's faster than Netflix can send them to me, so I have to hit Blockbuster or the local video rental place once a week. Here's a hint: when you go to Blockbuster, start at the beginning of the alphabet. There are more watchable movies in the numeric's, A's, B's and C's than in the rest of the alphabet. I always seem to find something like Angel-A (or Angela) that I have never heard of which is really good.
In the past 6 days I have seen 6 movies, three of which were really good. Morgan Freeman was in two of them, but even he couldn't save the one that should have been really good. I'll start with the best.
The Namesake. I loved it. Not only was it beautiful to look at, it was smartly written. It's a story of contrasts -- New York and Calcutta; old world values and modern American kids. It's the story of an Indian couple who move to New York and have two kids. Their son, Gogol, is the namesake -- for the Russian writer Nicholi Gogol. Since the boy's name is Gogol Ganguli, he is embarrassed by it and wants to go by his "good name" Nicholas. As the movie progresses, he comes to learn the significance of the name Gogol in his father's life.
The cast is terrific. Kal Penn of Harold and Kumar fame is sincere and believable as Gogol. The mother Ashima is played by an Indian actress named Tatu and she is beautiful and strong and unflappable. I particularly liked the scene where the family visits Calcutta and the kids are seeing India for the first time. It was very realistic and fascinating. Rather than describe it further I recommend you see it.
10 Items or Less. I loved it. This is a little film, that was shot in 15 days, that I knew nothing about and was totally taken with. Morgan Freeman plays a has-been actor "doing research for a project" he might consider at a market in Southern California. Paz Vega is the Spanish immigrant who is the checker at the 10 Items or Less Lane. The movie is the story of their unlikely collaboration and friendship. They are both wonderful and the script is smart and very clever. From the moment Scarlet (Paz Vega) appears on screen I was totally taken by her strength, smarts and weariness. I immediately wanted to know this woman. And Freeman's character, called Him, is charming and disarming (are they the same thing?) and completely likable.
Scarlet is trapped with an idiot husband from whom she is separated and a dead end job. "Him" coaches her through a transformation to get ready for a job as interview as an office manager. You may have to suspend disbelief a little, but it's so well written you don't care. The final scene is the perfect ending. I also recommend it.
Adrift in Manhattan. I liked it. It’s the story of three lonely people whose lives intersect in Manhattan. Tommaso, played by Dominic Chianese who is best known as Junior Soprano, stole the show with is portrayal of an aging painter who earns a living working in a corporate mailroom and is losing his sight. He meets Isabel, played by Elizabeth Peńa, at work and a romance begins. Both characters have smart dialogue to deliver and play a mature couple falling in love with grace and supreme dignity. I loved them. Heather Graham plays Rose an eye doctor who is treating Tommaso and trying to cope with the death of her two-year old son. Billy Baldwin plays her estranged husband. Finally there is Simon a socially retarded teenager with an overbearing mother who begins to follow and photograph Rose after being attracted by her scarf.
The movie was unknown to me be fore I saw it and turned out to be a real find in the “A’s” at Blockbuster.
A Feast of Love. I didn’t like it. With Morgan Freeman, Jane Alexander, Greg Kinnear, Rahda Mitchell and Alexa Davalos, and a big name director, this should have been a better movie than Adrift in Manhattan. It's not. The plots of these two films have some similarities -- there’s a tarot reading in each of them – in that they involve the intersection of several lives. Freeman and Alexander are a college professor on leave and his wife who have lost their grown son to a heroin overdose; all the while unaware of his addiction. Kinnear is a sap with a heart of gold who gets dumped twice – his first wife leaves him for a woman and his second (Mitchell) for her long time lover. Alexa Davalos as Chloe is the heart of the movie and has more inner strength than any of characters around her.
I couldn’t buy the script and Kinnear seems way too goofy to attract Diane (Mitchell).
Payback: Straight Up – The Director’s Cut. Great movie. If you have seen the 1999 theatrical version of this Mel Gibson gritty hardboiled thriller, you know it a really good movie. The Director’s Cut is very different and is much closer to the novel The Hunter by Donald E. Westlake writing as Richard Stark. Gibson’s character Porter was double crossed by his wife and his partner in crime – gunned down and left for dead. His cut of the take was $70,000 and he wants it back – and not a penny more. Porter is without redeeming qualities – he’s a killer – but his doggedness and ferocity make him interesting. Lucy Lui and Maria Bello make their first appearances in a major film and both are good. Mario Bello, thanks to A History of Violence, is my current Hollywood queen. This version is so much darker and gritty than the theatrical version that I preferred it.
The Ten. A piece of absolute shit masquerading as a comedy. It features ten scenes which are somehow supposed to illustrate the Ten Commandments. Yuk.
Hope you enjoyed this and will see at least one of these movies.
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Days 6, 7 & 8 Back in the Frozen Tundra
Day 6 -- Lovely Daytona Beach.
I hung out and recuperated. Exciting, no? It was beautiful though. The sun was bright and the temperate was in the low eighties. It felt so good lying in the sun letting the warmth sink in. You know that feeling you get when it's cold out, but sunny, and you get into your car after it's been in the sun for a while ... and it's so warm and toasty in there that the warmth just sinks right into you and it feels sooo good? Well, that's how it felt.
Trying to find a place to eat was a challenge. I was looking at the local promotional rag in the hotel room and I was amazed how few places there were to eat at (excuse the grammar) and how horrible the food looked in the ads. Ever notice that on TV or at the movies when they show an ad for a restaurant and the food looks repulsive? Who thought the pictures of the food looked good? The owner? I wish I had a scanner so I could have shown you some pictures of the haute cusine that was available. I drove about 6-7 miles to a place called Cheers because in its ad it looked like a normal franchise type place like Bennigan's or something. It was a green cinder block square beach bar -- not on the beach. I cursed, turned around and ate at Johnny Rocket's. The place where they serve ketsup with and smile and food without taste. But Daniel the counter boy was chatty as hell.
I dined at an exotic locale that was scary but interesting in that I-can't-look-away kind of way. One of the bartenders was a young woman who was plain looking but with in your face cleavage that featured some sort of tatoo in the cleavage itself and spilling out onto her boobs. Trying not to stare was and look disinterested was a challenge. She left and my bartender was a woman of indetermined age who was new and had not just returned from her Rhoades Schoralship. She had to be rescued by two owners helping her out. Since Daytona was in its lull before race week, the place was sparsely populated but could have been scary with more people. Lot's of people there looked like they had done some hard living. I survived and enjoyed the people watching and the sandwich was good.
Day 7 -- On the road from Fla. to Va.
I had expected that once I got into northern Florida and Georgia the temperature would drop considerably, but it was gorgeous the whole way. It was 82 degees in SOuth Carolina. Kind of ironic when there were terrible storms in the lower midwest going on at that time.
I have followed my Weighter Watchers regime religously and it's obvious just from the loosening of the waist of my pants that I'm loosing weight. Staying within my limts while driving all day on interstates is a challenge. The choises or eateries other than fast food are few. By dinner I was starved and eat 7/8 of a small pizza. What the hell!
Day 8 -- Survivng Lunch
Pardon me while I rant. Desperate for lunch I settled on Bob Evans in Parkersburg, West Virginia. It was up on a hill overlooking the highway and the road to the restaurant was so fucking impossible to find that my poor Tommy (Tom Tom navigation system) was totally lost. After I got there -- knowing I usually hate their food -- I told myself that the only safe thing to eat was eggs and bacon; maybe salad. So I ordered a salad and the lovely beef tips stir fry. Very bright -- ordering fake Chinese food in a homestyle American place. It was beyond awful, it made me nauseous. And I was so pissed at myslef for spending seventeenfuckingdollars on an inebilbe meal. You're asking yourself, why didn't he send it back? And get what?
Reminds me of two rules. When at a steakhouse, order steak. When at a breakfast place, order breakfast. And secondly this: When you have a bad meal or poor service what do you do? Tell them everything was fine; never come back; and tell people you know about it. So if you serve the public, don't think asking "How was everything?" will tell you anything about your service. . . That was wasn't much of a rant.
The last 120 miles of the trip were nightmarish and given my past history of being run over by a semi-truck on a freezing wintry night while driving a small car, I handled it pretty well and the beemer performed well too.
My lasting memory of this trip will be that shitty trips make for shitty blogs. I'll do better on my next adventure.
Cheers!
Sunday, February 3, 2008
Days 4 & 5 -- Plan B
Day 4 -- Hollywood, FL, Westin Diplomat Resort.
As you know -- if not, you do now -- people watching is a religion to me. I've been honing my skill since I was in High School. It's only in recent years that I have moved from people critic to people watcher; both involve looking people over but how you react to the observation is the difference. In undergraduate college my gang and I were vicious about it. We declared ourselves the fashion police long before you heard that expression on cable TV. We used to issue fashion citations on the corner of South Court and Union in lovely Athens, OH. The penalty for violations was self-destruction; "kill yourself immediately" was the phrase. We didn't really do this, of course; just talked about it. Regretably my children, at least the three youngest have black belts in criticism. One of the few things their mother and I had in common.
Now, I just like looking at people. Particularly couples. How did they pick each other? What did they look like on their wedding day; particularly if they have managed to be pretty rotund even in their youth. I always wonder what the men are like at work. Probably the one and only time you'll hear me admit to thinking about men.
My point is that people watching at a four star hotel (where I was staying today) is wonderful. Of course you have your basic "I wonder how she/he can afford to stay here." Or "I wonder whose paying the bill for him/her?" Older couples are always great because they seem to be at once joined at the hip and oblivious to the other at the same time. I always wonder what they looked like on there wedding day. During the brief period I was out in the sun today, I saw many orthodox jews with their families and I always want to understand what they can and cannot do with respect to acceptable dress for sunbathing and so forth. I sat next to a couple who were looking and an iPod Touch. They were in their late teens. I have no idea what their religous beliefs were. The kid had on baggy cargo shorts, like every other teen age boy, but he had about six or eight gold chains around his neck hanging down to his navel with crosses and stuff. Seemed very Mr. T'ish.
My biggest dissapointment in missing the cruise was to marvel at the eclectic mix of people in the singles group; let alone the amusement park crowd that are on lower end cruise lines.
So, Plan B? What to do after the cruise debacle. Well it's too damn expensive to stay where I am. So, here's what I decided. There's no point busting my ass to get back to Michigan to freeze my ass off. If I drive to Jacksonville or Savannah, the temps will only be in the 50's or 60's. I'm in south Florida where it's 80; how far can I go north and save a couple bucks and keep the 80 degree temps? Wouldn't you know it. My least favorite place (almost) in Florida: Daytona Beach.
Day 5 -- Daytona Beach
A beach you can drive on. NASCAR town. The world's most famous beach. Yep, that's the place. I'm in a Holiday Inn right on the beach for $108/night -- a little cheaper than West Palm or Boca. Actually I feel much more relaxed here. Maybe I'm an elitist and I like hanging out with people I believe to be inferior to me (NOT!) or I'm just a regular Joe with a little bit of sense who feels comfortable in less pretenious environments.
Daytona is my least favorite place in Florida becuase it is tacky, cheesy and it's insane to drive cars on a beach where thousands of children are playing. Years ago I let Kathy (Mrs. B II) plan and make the arrangements for a family vacation. Kathy is not wont to spend a lot of money on anything. When I heard we were booked in Daytona, I shallowed hard and kept my mouth shut. We packed up the mini van and headed south. We had a routine down pat. We would take the middle seat out of the van and make a bed for the kids there. Then we'd leave around dinner time and drive through the night while the kids slept. We would arrive around noon exhusted but satified to be there. I can remember constantly watching the cars on the beach and having multiple heart failures when kids (not mine) ran in front of cars. Haven't been back until today.
I took a short walk on the beach after I got here -- what a ghost town. The price of gas must be killing this place. I couldn't find a place that had more than two people watching the Super Bowl. I dined at the ever elegant Bubba Gump's and -- surprise, suprise -- the salmon and veggie thing I had was good. What movie runs there constantly? I guess it's obvious. And they don't turn it off for the Super Bowl.
I saw a whispy young girl (don't get ahead of me, it's nothing like that) and I had a naustalgic flashback to my days as a middle school science teacher in Centerville, Ohio in the early to mid 70's. I became a teacher because I decided that I didn't want to attend dental school, even though I had a small scholorship -- and a wife and baby boy; and so I taught to keep out of Vietnam. At that time I was 22 and my students were 14. That was tough to handle at times -- but I handled it. Later when I taught middle school I was five years older and had a Master's in Education. The point is I felt much more like a father figure/mentor than a big brother. The girl on the beach reminded me of my little fan club and how much I liked them and felt protective. We had this understanding that I expected a lot out of them -- grades and behavior -- and they expected me to fair and teach them something. Some of them had crushes on me which was flattering I guess. The girl on the beach reminded me of Chris Clark. She was very quite and demure and smart and pretty. One not-so-fine day John Swartz, the pain-in-the-ass German teacher, made Chris cry in class. Oh, my God!! I could have killed him. . . Teaching gave me the best memories of my whole career but I'm glad I left when I did before I got bitter and lazy.
You know the book Blink by Malcolm Gladwell? It has to do with the amount of information the brain can process in an instant -- a blink. I can't articulate his thesis except to say that the brain has a huge capacity to process information almost instantly. He gives many examples. Well that was what happened when I saw the girl and was transported back to the 70's. I'm so nostalgic lately!
I'm still sick. Not any better; maybe worse. Tomorrow I recouperate, I hope, in Daytona and look at it with my more accepting mature eyes -- except this driving on the beach shit. After that, well see.
Please comment (not on my illness). Click on the word "comment" below to do so.
[Sorry, spell check is still down.]
As you know -- if not, you do now -- people watching is a religion to me. I've been honing my skill since I was in High School. It's only in recent years that I have moved from people critic to people watcher; both involve looking people over but how you react to the observation is the difference. In undergraduate college my gang and I were vicious about it. We declared ourselves the fashion police long before you heard that expression on cable TV. We used to issue fashion citations on the corner of South Court and Union in lovely Athens, OH. The penalty for violations was self-destruction; "kill yourself immediately" was the phrase. We didn't really do this, of course; just talked about it. Regretably my children, at least the three youngest have black belts in criticism. One of the few things their mother and I had in common.
Now, I just like looking at people. Particularly couples. How did they pick each other? What did they look like on their wedding day; particularly if they have managed to be pretty rotund even in their youth. I always wonder what the men are like at work. Probably the one and only time you'll hear me admit to thinking about men.
My point is that people watching at a four star hotel (where I was staying today) is wonderful. Of course you have your basic "I wonder how she/he can afford to stay here." Or "I wonder whose paying the bill for him/her?" Older couples are always great because they seem to be at once joined at the hip and oblivious to the other at the same time. I always wonder what they looked like on there wedding day. During the brief period I was out in the sun today, I saw many orthodox jews with their families and I always want to understand what they can and cannot do with respect to acceptable dress for sunbathing and so forth. I sat next to a couple who were looking and an iPod Touch. They were in their late teens. I have no idea what their religous beliefs were. The kid had on baggy cargo shorts, like every other teen age boy, but he had about six or eight gold chains around his neck hanging down to his navel with crosses and stuff. Seemed very Mr. T'ish.
My biggest dissapointment in missing the cruise was to marvel at the eclectic mix of people in the singles group; let alone the amusement park crowd that are on lower end cruise lines.
So, Plan B? What to do after the cruise debacle. Well it's too damn expensive to stay where I am. So, here's what I decided. There's no point busting my ass to get back to Michigan to freeze my ass off. If I drive to Jacksonville or Savannah, the temps will only be in the 50's or 60's. I'm in south Florida where it's 80; how far can I go north and save a couple bucks and keep the 80 degree temps? Wouldn't you know it. My least favorite place (almost) in Florida: Daytona Beach.
Day 5 -- Daytona Beach
A beach you can drive on. NASCAR town. The world's most famous beach. Yep, that's the place. I'm in a Holiday Inn right on the beach for $108/night -- a little cheaper than West Palm or Boca. Actually I feel much more relaxed here. Maybe I'm an elitist and I like hanging out with people I believe to be inferior to me (NOT!) or I'm just a regular Joe with a little bit of sense who feels comfortable in less pretenious environments.
Daytona is my least favorite place in Florida becuase it is tacky, cheesy and it's insane to drive cars on a beach where thousands of children are playing. Years ago I let Kathy (Mrs. B II) plan and make the arrangements for a family vacation. Kathy is not wont to spend a lot of money on anything. When I heard we were booked in Daytona, I shallowed hard and kept my mouth shut. We packed up the mini van and headed south. We had a routine down pat. We would take the middle seat out of the van and make a bed for the kids there. Then we'd leave around dinner time and drive through the night while the kids slept. We would arrive around noon exhusted but satified to be there. I can remember constantly watching the cars on the beach and having multiple heart failures when kids (not mine) ran in front of cars. Haven't been back until today.
I took a short walk on the beach after I got here -- what a ghost town. The price of gas must be killing this place. I couldn't find a place that had more than two people watching the Super Bowl. I dined at the ever elegant Bubba Gump's and -- surprise, suprise -- the salmon and veggie thing I had was good. What movie runs there constantly? I guess it's obvious. And they don't turn it off for the Super Bowl.
I saw a whispy young girl (don't get ahead of me, it's nothing like that) and I had a naustalgic flashback to my days as a middle school science teacher in Centerville, Ohio in the early to mid 70's. I became a teacher because I decided that I didn't want to attend dental school, even though I had a small scholorship -- and a wife and baby boy; and so I taught to keep out of Vietnam. At that time I was 22 and my students were 14. That was tough to handle at times -- but I handled it. Later when I taught middle school I was five years older and had a Master's in Education. The point is I felt much more like a father figure/mentor than a big brother. The girl on the beach reminded me of my little fan club and how much I liked them and felt protective. We had this understanding that I expected a lot out of them -- grades and behavior -- and they expected me to fair and teach them something. Some of them had crushes on me which was flattering I guess. The girl on the beach reminded me of Chris Clark. She was very quite and demure and smart and pretty. One not-so-fine day John Swartz, the pain-in-the-ass German teacher, made Chris cry in class. Oh, my God!! I could have killed him. . . Teaching gave me the best memories of my whole career but I'm glad I left when I did before I got bitter and lazy.
You know the book Blink by Malcolm Gladwell? It has to do with the amount of information the brain can process in an instant -- a blink. I can't articulate his thesis except to say that the brain has a huge capacity to process information almost instantly. He gives many examples. Well that was what happened when I saw the girl and was transported back to the 70's. I'm so nostalgic lately!
I'm still sick. Not any better; maybe worse. Tomorrow I recouperate, I hope, in Daytona and look at it with my more accepting mature eyes -- except this driving on the beach shit. After that, well see.
Please comment (not on my illness). Click on the word "comment" below to do so.
[Sorry, spell check is still down.]
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Days 2 & 3 -- Stick a Fork in Me
Day 2 -- I feel like shit.
Day 3 -- Woke up in lovely Lake City, Florida to misting rain and grey skies. I should have taken heed and gone back to bed. Little did I know how totally one guy could screw up in one day. On my Road Trip in Sept/Oct '07, I lost my car keys in the Mall of America -- and got them back; left 12 DVD's and a library book in a motel in Wisconsin; left my computer power cord in Utah (replacement cost $127); and left my car keys at the golf course in Colorado -- and got them back again. I made fun of myslef in my blog and shrugged it off.
Well, I guess I have moved up to the absent mindedness Hall of Fame. Let me give you the setting in which I am writng this and you'll start to get the picture. I am sitting in my room on the 30th floor of the Westin in Hollywood, Florida and the cruise ship Fascination is making it way to Nassau. What I pulled today certainly qualifies as a cluster fuck.
Day 3 -- Woke up in lovely Lake City, Florida to misting rain and grey skies. I should have taken heed and gone back to bed. Little did I know how totally one guy could screw up in one day. On my Road Trip in Sept/Oct '07, I lost my car keys in the Mall of America -- and got them back; left 12 DVD's and a library book in a motel in Wisconsin; left my computer power cord in Utah (replacement cost $127); and left my car keys at the golf course in Colorado -- and got them back again. I made fun of myslef in my blog and shrugged it off.
Well, I guess I have moved up to the absent mindedness Hall of Fame. Let me give you the setting in which I am writng this and you'll start to get the picture. I am sitting in my room on the 30th floor of the Westin in Hollywood, Florida and the cruise ship Fascination is making it way to Nassau. What I pulled today certainly qualifies as a cluster fuck.
I had about 375 miles to drive to the Port of Miami. I was driving fast as always, but stopping frequently and in no big hurry. Plenty of time. As I cruise down the Florida Turnpike at 85 watching cars blow by me like I was traveling the speed limit or something, a thought popped into my mind. Did I bring my passort? Is it possible that I have been driving for two and a half days feeling like shit and I don't have my passport with me? Afraid so, dumbass! I FORGOT MY FUCKIN PASSPORT!
I'm feeling nauseous, but then I give my self one of those "you're a corporate lawyer and former executive, you can find a way around this" pep talks. I call the lovely Molly (not her real name) at singlescruise.com and we discuss it -- she thinks I said I'm thirty miles from the docks, not 130 miles, so I've got time. She says go down there and plead your case. OK, might as well. I come up with an idea -- a lame one -- what if my son Rob gets my passport and photocopies it and makes a sworn statement that it's a true copy, blah, blah, blah, and faxes it to Immigration. I call Molly back. I tell her my idea -- she says maybe it will work -- we both know it won't -- and she asks me where I am. 117 miles from the Port. "Jim, you should be there. The ship departs at 4:00!" "No, way. It departs at 6:00!" I WAS TWO HOURS LATE!
There were more phone calls to the Travel Hotline ans so forth but that was it. Three college degrees and I can't remember shit. And the hell of it is, I had a 4:00 departure on my Outlook calendar and I changed it to 6:00!
So here I sit trying to make lemonade out of this. . . Well when I got back last October, I said I would probably go on another road trip in Feb to somewhere warm. I guess I'm doing that.
Unbelievable!
Tommorow I rest and relax and figure out Plan B.
I'm feeling nauseous, but then I give my self one of those "you're a corporate lawyer and former executive, you can find a way around this" pep talks. I call the lovely Molly (not her real name) at singlescruise.com and we discuss it -- she thinks I said I'm thirty miles from the docks, not 130 miles, so I've got time. She says go down there and plead your case. OK, might as well. I come up with an idea -- a lame one -- what if my son Rob gets my passport and photocopies it and makes a sworn statement that it's a true copy, blah, blah, blah, and faxes it to Immigration. I call Molly back. I tell her my idea -- she says maybe it will work -- we both know it won't -- and she asks me where I am. 117 miles from the Port. "Jim, you should be there. The ship departs at 4:00!" "No, way. It departs at 6:00!" I WAS TWO HOURS LATE!
There were more phone calls to the Travel Hotline ans so forth but that was it. Three college degrees and I can't remember shit. And the hell of it is, I had a 4:00 departure on my Outlook calendar and I changed it to 6:00!
So here I sit trying to make lemonade out of this. . . Well when I got back last October, I said I would probably go on another road trip in Feb to somewhere warm. I guess I'm doing that.
Unbelievable!
Tommorow I rest and relax and figure out Plan B.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Ann Arbor to Nassau to who knows where.
Monday in southeast Michigan it was about 40 degrees. Last night (Tues) the wind howled and blew and kept me awake until 3:00AM. Three and a half hours later I awoke to a 6 degree temperate and winds. What a perfect day to leave town and head south. So I'm on my way to Miami to hop a cruise ship to Nassau.
I'm in Knoxville -- I'm breaking the drive into three legs -- where it's 39 degrees at 7:30PM. Feels tropical already. Tomorrow I'll stop in Gainesville and then Friday to Miami and aboard ship. So that means today and tomorrow are going to be really boring -- and I'm sick -- and I need to come up with something to write about that's a little entertaining or interesting. I guarantee that there will be plenty of material about my fellow singles and the cruise.
I have six audio books with me and I finshed one today and started a second one. The first is Triptych by Karin Slaughter. It's a murder mystery, of course -- about 98% of what I listen to is. It passed the most important test of an audiobook -- a good reader. I think the guy's name is Michael Caldwell. The hero is a Georgia state cop who is dyslectic and reads at a second grade level and, of course, covers it up. It's entertaining if unspectacular. Being a sucker for romance and believable happy endings, I was pleased that our hero and his life long vice cop lover ended up together. BTW I have no idea what Triptych is.
I started one of Donald E. Westlake's Dortmunder novels that I have listened to before. Don't remember the name. Cooincidentially it's the same reader. It's entertaining and lightweight and the plot is creative. -- If you want to have a book ruined, have Tony Roberts read it. You know, the guy who's in a bunch of Woody Allen movies. He sounds like he's doing a lame assed immitation of James Gagney. I expected him to say "all right, youse guys" at any moment.
Here's three obscure movies that you'll like. German, Spanish and English. The German movie is Vitus. It's the story of a wonderkin at the ages of six and twelve and the way he copes with his genius IQ, his parents and his grandfather. The two child actors who play Vitus (pronounced Vee tus) are charming and believable. If you don't want to just hug the six year old, you are heartless. The Spanish film is Quinceanera -- which is the fifteen birthday celebration for a hyspanic girl. It's written and directed by an American and Englishman who are gay -- "not that's there's anything wrong with that" -- who attended a quinceanera in their neighborhood. The cast is all hyspanic unknowns. I will only say that the plot revolves around a scientifically explainable immaculate conception. Finally there's Interview with Steve Buscemi and Sienna Miller. The dialog is really smart.
My first career (of four) was as a middle school scince teacher -- this was in the early and mid seventies. I loved classroom teaching, I was very well liked and I was good at what I did. But I did some uncoventional things to keep life entertaining - to me at least. The kids may have thought of it as tortue. In 1969 I graduated with a B.S. in zoology and not a clue. I had never taken an education couse but I got a teaching job and a draft deferral. I taught physical science to ninth graders in Xenia, Ohio. My class room was about sixty years old and had no lab tables. To break up the monotiny I'd do shit to entertain the kids. For example, I found an old static electricity generator in the supply room -- you know, it's one of those things that has a belt you crank and it builds up a charge on the gold ball electrodes and makes a big spark when you discharge it. But wait! You can also discharge it by touching the two electrodes in which case it shocks the shit out of you. Or better yet, you can make the whole class join hands and have one kid (or me) grab one electrode and then make a human chain and when the last kid grabs the other electrode -- zap, you get a big assed jolt. So for yuks, I got my first period to do it and it really shocked us enough to make your arm jolt upwards. For second period I refined my act. I had them stand up and I cranked a big assed charge into the machine and told them to hold hands. They knew what was coming and the girls (and guys?) started screaming "No, Mr. B. No". Naturally I said "Shut up and hold hands." The results were even more shocking.
And finally, for now, the other highlight of that year was blowing up the classroom. Again I was putzing through the supply room forsomething to entertain with and I found some solid sodium pellets. They're pretty caustic and if you drop the in water they spin around in a circle and pop. I said to myself, "this should kill about five minutes of lecture time." Again I started with first period and refined my act. Third period comes along and I show them how this stuff works by dropping a few pellets in a big coffee can of water and they go "swirl, swirl, swirl - puff!" The kids decide to goad me on. "More, Mr. B. More." Sure why not. I drop maybe a tablespoon full in the coffe can and it starts to froth and smoke and then . . . BOOM! It fucking explodes! The entire room is full of smoke. The kids are screaming. I'm yelling "Shut up and open the windows." The next day a girl comes to me and says she got some on her hand and it burned a hole through her dress . . . and mom is not happy. Oops.
Please remember I was 22, full of crap and wanted to be popular and entertaining. The end . . . for now.
[I apologize for the misspellings, but the spell checker isn't working.]
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