Friday, March 31, 2006

AFTER APRIL 10...... NOT call me at work.

Why? Because I'll be incredibly busy? No. Well, yes. I will be, but that's not why.

Because I'm working and it would not be ethical to take personal calls on company time? No.

Because...uh... why?

Answer: Because I'll have to answer the phone.... AND I WON'T KNOW HOW!!

We're getting a new phone system. Feh. Remember the good old days when working the phone consisted of:

1. ring.

2. Hello?

3. Talk talk tell me more tell me more like does he have a car? Yes? what then? gotta go.

4. Goodbye

5. Hang up.

easy peasy japaneasy.

Here's an idea of what's in store for me. I attended a phone training session today. It lasted 77 minutes. There's an instruction book that is 60 pages long. 60 SIXTY!! SIX OH.

The word "functionality" was used.

A lot.

The phone has the following features:

*soft keys

*navigation bar


*i-- (oops. I forgot. It's some normal word onto which they've appended an "i" and it sends your calls to voicemail if you don't want to talk to that person. I-dodge?)

*99 speed dial numbers. Like I could remember 99 speed dial numbers! And maybe some
day, if you're good, I'll tell you my stand-up routine about speed dial and relationships and how my daughter thinks Jerry Seinfeld stole the routine from me.

*In addition to the 99 speed dial, there are the "One-touch" and "abbreviated dial" numbers. It's going to be easier just to remember phone numbers.

*there's more, but I kinda zoned out.

And by the way, exactly when was it that "Hold" became "Park"? I somehow missed that memo.

Basically, I'm so screwed.

Hello? Ernestine? One ringy-dingy. *snork*

Thursday, March 30, 2006


Here are some views from where I work

On the right side of the picture, you can see the reflection of my hand and camera phone. Oops.

Here's the Courthouse where the Dred Scott Decision took place in 1856. HA! Snuck in a history lesson on you!

This is the building where I worked until 2 weeks ago.

The large white building is the Edward Jones Dome where the Rams play.

This was a picture I took from inside the Stadium last year. I have this as my desktop on my home computer.

I don't have tickets for opening day, but I'm thinking about bringing binoculars and popcorn to work and watch it from here.

Saturday, March 25, 2006

Puttin' on the Ritz

Last weekend, I went to the lounge at the Ritz-Carlton to listen to one of my favorite local bands, Hudson and the HooDoo Cats.

And by the way, you can buy CD's from his website and you won't be sorry. (holds out hand for Hudson to slip her a $20.00 for the plug, wink wink)

Anyway, Hudson always pulls in a fun crowd; all ages, races, social strata and style. If you like to people-watch, you certainly get a lot of bang for your buck. AND, the music is topnotch as well.

Earlier in the evening, I had dinner with my family at a greasy-spoon favorite of my mother's that was also the scene of what can only be described as a trailer-park wedding reception. Mullets, sweatshirts, t-shirts and sparkly blue eyeshadow were prominent. As were cartons of Marlboros and Parliaments.

The lounge at the Ritz was at the other end of the spectrum. Marble fireplace, mahogony appointments, class. class. class. Most of the crowd consists of the polished and pampered; diamonds and Rolexes everywhere; Manolo Blahniks; and a generous smattering of those of us in our finest from TJ Max.

As with the greasy spoon, a bridal party showed up at the Ritz as well. Maybe they liked Hudson's music more than the music at the reception. The bride was stunning, and so was her gown.....until you got to the skirt. From the waistline down, all hell broke loose. It was gathered and bunched up in a helter-skelter kind of fashion and had pastel-colored bows randomly appliqued throughout the bunching. When shopping for wedding dresses with my daughter a couple of years ago, I learned a rule of thumb with wedding dresses: The uglier the dress, the more expensive it is. The cost of this one must have cost more than the entire trailer park of the previous wedding party.

The bridesmaids all wore short black dresses, but not matching styles. That's the thing now days -- having your bridesmaids choose a style that suits them best, rather than have a troop of young things crammed into one style that only suits one of them. But that doesn't ensure they will all chose something that works.

Case in point was the ditzy blonde chick in the slut dress. Apparently, it was supposed to have a handkerchief hem. Something like this as far as the skirt goes:

The bodice of this dress was tight and had spaghetti straps.

On this girl, the long part of the hem was on the sides and the short part was in front and back. And short. And she was wearing a thong. And did I say she was wearing a short dress? Everyone else in her group looked very elegant.... but she just looked trashy. However, she had a lot of guys asking her to dance. And pick up things they had "accidentally" dropped.

Then there was the Parade of Ugly Hats; Men's Division. Recently, I was visiting my parents at the Retirement Center. The conversation among some of their friends was that men no longer remove their hats when in a building. The men in the lounge at the Ritz really should have removed them, and then should have thrown them into the fireplace and burned them. Velvet fedoras? A dirty, greasy leather cowboy hat. Some sort of urban cowboy hat coupled with a really bad blazer. The pattern on the blazer was like an old TV test pattern on LSD. I'm sure the plethora of fedoras that night was in homage to Hudson and his fedora-wearing band; but come on. A little goes a long way in the fedora department.

The tackiest topper was worn by the oldest guy in the place. But age didn't keep him from cruising the chicks. He had inky, greasy, skanky black hair. And squinty, beady little eyes. And orange skin from spending too much time in the tanning booth. I've seen him before with his brother, another geriatric cruiser. ick ick ick ick ick ick. The rule of thumb there is, "Don't Make Eye Contact."

There is a clutch of transvestites who are Hudson groupies. That night, two were prominently in attendance. The redhead was decked out in a green sequin gown with cutouts on the sides. The brunette was wearing a black strapless gown that teetered on sophisticated, but didn't quite make it. I don't know why. Maybe it was her too-broad shoulders that threw off the look. They danced together most of the night, and danced well. But during one spin, Red's dress came undone in the back. "Shoulders" grabbed things together and escorted Red back to their table where she re-attached the hooks in the back.

And guess what!? As I was searching the internet for pictures of the lounge at the Ritz, I found a website of the trannies! Lisa and Sharon at the Ritz.

Then there was the sweet old couple. They had to have been in their 80's No bigger than wedding cake toppers. They sat at a table by the dance floor and were all decked out in their finery. She was wearing an ivory-colored silk sheath; he was in a nicely tailored suit. Every so often, they would get up and dance about 10 steps, and then sit down. You could tell dancing was something they had done a lot together and didn't want to give up. But after 10 steps, they had to take a nap before giving it another spin.

All in all, another great night and a great show at the Ritz.

Thursday, March 23, 2006


Well, not exactly blocked. I know what I want to write about, it's just that I'm so brain dead in the evenings that I can't form coherent sentences. I started a new job this week and I'm really excited about it, but I'm toast by the time I get home.

I want to tell you about my evening at the Ritz Carlton last weekend. Here's the Reader's Digest version:

Music in the lounge; wine; great people-watching opportunities; aging rockers (as in rock 'n roll, not chairs); young swing dancers; doddering old fools hitting on young chicks; beautiful brides in ugly dresses; bridesmaid and wardrobe malfunction; Parade of Ugly Hats, Men's Division; middle-aged transvestites wearing spangly formal dresses and dancing together; and another wardrobe malfunction, transvestite division.

I may or may not expand on that later.

Thursday, March 09, 2006


Oh. My. Gosh. Hide me. Hide me now. I'm so embarrassed. If I hadn't left my cellphone in my car, I'd take a pic and show you how red my face is. Oh. Oh. Oh. And it just goes to show how much I trust you all *snork* that I'm even telling you this.

At the moment, I am at Kaldi's Coffeeshop at the Plaza having dinner and working on a blog about how proud I am of my daughter, whom you've come to know as Little Sly.

*note* I'm also equally proud of my other daughter, HRH Princess Meghan, but since she only accesses this site long enough to see if I've written about her and doesn't read anything else, I'll move along and not say anything more about her at the moment.

ANYWAY, I'm in the middle of a post about an accomplishment of Little Sly's that will be posted later. I look up and see an attractive man my age enter.

My pulse quickens. ooohhhh. Hot. I think. Either that or it's my first hot flash. No, it's definitely him.

He has a shock of white white hair and a goatee, ala Michael McDonald.

And his eyes. Oh.

And get this -- he starts flirting WITH ME!! He's in line to order and keeps looking at me, smiling. Even a wave.


I'm flipping my hair. I'm cocking my head to one side and smiling. I'm tipping my head back and stroking my neck with one finger.


He gets his coffee and walks towards me. I smile.


I see them hug in the reflection of the plate glass windows.

And, no, it's not his daughter. Well, if she IS his daughter, he really shouldn't be grabbing her ass like that.



Saturday, March 04, 2006


As some of you may remember, this is a picture of my tool box:

My daughters have grown up using shoes as hammers. However, Jenni has deviated from the tried and true. This is one of the gifts she received at one of her wedding showers:

One of the tasks we undertook during my visit last weekend was buying a vacuum cleaner; assembly required. Jenni used her tools for the required assembly.

The reason a new vacuum cleaner was required was due to unauthorized use of the old vacuum cleaner. You see..... they had this clogged drain in the kitchen. Jenni remembered seeing a commercial for a vacuum cleaner which claimed that it could even be used to unclog drains. Even though their vacuum cleaner was not the same brand being advertised, she used it to unclog the drain and it worked.

Success, right?

Um, no.

Just before my visit last weekend, Jenni got out the vacuum cleaner and found a spongey white substance growing out of it. ewwwww. After removing that, she turned it on. Mistake. A sewer-like smell permeated the apartment. The vacuum cleaner was thrown out and the replacement purchased.

Here's the conversation after the purchase:

Jenni: Sweetie, I bought a new vacuum cleaner. I got the bagless kind.

Tim: Why bagless?

Jenni: Because it was more expensive than the models with the bags.

Tim: *blink, blink* What?

Jenni: In all categories, the bagless ones were about $20 more, so I thought they must be better. And the one I got picks up 100% of allergans and pollen.

Tim: *blink, blink* OK. I guess we'd spend more than $20 in bags over time.

And I totally understood her reasoning.

Fortunately, I was able to rid their house of that sewer smell. Unfortunately, the cure was burned popcorn.

Sewer smell....burned popcorn. Tough choice.

We went to check out the house they are building:

A fireplace will be in between those double windows. And the double windows will have windowseats. It's going to be great.

Jenni has had an acquarium since she was an undergrad. Several months ago, her two snails had a very large family. All of the dark blobs in this picture are snails. A couple of weeks after the population explosion, the mom snail committed suicide by falling out of the acquarium, which did have a lid. Mom snail apparently did that several times, but was returned to the acquarium in time. Well, until the last time.

Always a mystery how that happened. Jenni said that sometimes while working, she'd hear a "plop" and would find the snail on the ground. Dad snail has also ceased to exist; but they leave behind many offspring.

UPDATE: *sigh* I'm in trouble. A few minutes ago, I received a phone call from my daughter which consisted of a great deal of gasping and wheezing and screaming. Apparently, she's quite outraged that I blogged about her using the vacuum cleaner as a means of a clearing a clogged drain. She said that was a secret. I did not know that. I assured her that EVERYONE has experienced some sort of domestic disaster. So, I'm going to ask you if you've had a domestic disaster and if so, please post it in the comments section.

I will post one as well.....if I can think of one.

Thursday, March 02, 2006

Time for a Time Out?

This kid is going to be sooooooooooooooooooooo grounded!!