WILLY NILLY WEEKEND IN MEMPHIS

Our plan for the weekend was one we called "Willy Nilly". After we arrived in Memphis, we'd just call each other and figure things out from there.


Friday, May 5; THE JOURNEY

My departure from St. Louis on Friday was later than I had planned. I couldn't get away from work early, and then this happened and then that and before you know it, was hitting the road for a 5 hour trip at 8:00 pm. To help myself stay awake early in the drive, I called everyone I knew and chatted with them. When I called Lab, I suddenly thought I had accidentally called another friend of mine; and the conversation got a little strange. We finally got it straightened out that I was speaking to the party to whom I was speaking.

After the drive, complete with construction slow-downs, I arrived at my hotel around 2:00 a.m. I stood at the elevator with all of my stuff, waiting for it to arrive. Up walked a guy about my age, carrying a brown bag. He was very friendly and started asking me the usual strangers in an elevator questions. When strangers do talk in the elevators. He introduced himself as "Slade, with a D." We got off on the same floor, and then he pointed to my room and said, "There you are."

Oops. He knew my room. I recalled he was nearby when the desk clerk gave the room key to me and announced my room number. Great. His room was next to mine. As I opened my door, he called out to me and asked me if I'd like to come over for a drink, and indicated the brown bag.

I said, "thank you for asking, no," then scurried into my room. A few minutes later, I heard a knock on the door. A shiver went up my spine, not so much from the knocking but from the fact that my room was absofreakinglutely FREEZING!!!!! The AC was on full blast. I didn't answer the door, but DID leave a message on a friend's CallNotes and told her that if I suddenly disappeared off the face of the earth, to check with Slade in room 307 of the Fairfield Inn. Another possibility was that I had succumbed to hyperthermia.

SATURDAY, MAY 6. THE DUCK HUNT

I showered, dressed, partook of the complimentary continental breakfast (yogurt and raisen bran) and drove to downtown Memphis to meet up with Lab, The Insolent Wench and Federal Duck.

I thought this would be a good place to start looking for The Duck.









But I was wrong.







I thought maybe I'd find him at his cousin's.


Again, I was wrong.






As I walked up Third Street, I saw a sign. Apparently, I had just missed him.















I was not fooled by these silly decoys:














I heard something about a Duck Walk at The Peabody Hotel, and thought I'd go try my luck there.


I sat in the lobby bar, ordered a mimosa and waited.

















This duck hunt was drawing a huge crowd.














The ducks arrived to a John Phillips Sousa March (the one that sounds like the Monty Python theme song). None of them were of the Federal species. One of the young men waiting to see the Duck Walk returned to the bar stating, "I can't believe I waited all that time to watch 5 ducks.











I called Lab and told him I was in the lobby bar and had ordered another mimosa while waiting, which he dismissed as a "girly" drink. I pointed out to him that there was a young man sitting next to me drinking one. He asked how young and suggested it might be The Duck, and if it was, he was disappointed in him for drinking a girlie drink. I dialed The Duck, looked at the phone on the bar next to me, wondering if it would ring. It did not. When Federal Duck answered, he said he was still about two hours outside of Memphis.

About a half hour later, I met up with the Lab and his wife. He had told me I'd recognize him because he'd be the guy in the Speedos. He lied.





We headed down to Beale Street, where we were immediately approached by a panhandler with a different kind of a spiel. He said that Jerry Garcia had double-charged him for a burger. He wanted to sell his swag to us in exchange for busfare. OK, Jerry Garcia is dead, and the guy didn't appear to have any swag. As if, anyway. We declined, and then he cussed us out.

As we wandered further down Beale Street, The Wench received a call from some friends of hers and we met up with them at BB Kings. We listened to some really great blues while lunching on pulled pork sandwiches.

At the table next to us was, oddly enough, Jerry Garcia. A very thin Jerry Garcia. But I guess he hasn't been eating much the last few years, what with being dead and all. I found it difficult to sneak in a picture of him, so you'll just have to take my word for it.

The music was loud and I didn't think I'd hear my cellphone when The Duck called. So I sent him a text messge:

We are at BB Kings on Beale
Under a sign
that says Lucille.

(that was not a haiku).

For some reason, Lab felt compelled to wear some food....and this was before any alcohol was consumed.









Awhile later, we decided to
leave and head to the river front for the festival. I sent The Duck another text message "We left BB Kings. We're walking in Memphis." OK, even I rolled my own eyes at that.

Lab started his own efforts in looking for The Duck.














He even built an impromptu duck blind.













A couple of blocks later, I received a text message from The Duck. "I'm here." I called "Where is here?"

Duck: BB Kings.

Me: We left, but are only a few blocks away. Just walk up the hill and you'll find us.

Duck: Which way?

Me: UP the hill. (I would later find out that if this particular duck had to migrate for the winter, he'd end up in the Artic).

A young man was approaching us and I said to Lab, "I bet this is the Duck". As he passed, Lab gave a duck call, and the guy kept walking. And then suddenly, The Duck arrived and joined us.










Oh, yeah. It started to rain. But that was OK. I had an umbrella which I was convinced would collapse if the wind hit 1 knot per hour. Lab and The Wench were fully prepared and had ponchos, and an extra one for The Duck because oddly enough, water does not roll off his back. We went to the Blues Tent, the only one of the four stages that was under cover. Great music there! We first heard Honeytribe featuring Devon Allman..... an offspring of an Allman Brother.

Next was Richard Johnston (a local favorite) & Jessie Mae Hemphill, a legend. Most of the set was Johnston, which was great. At the end he brought up Jessie Mae and the crowd went wild. After introducing her, we waited and waited. People were still standing. Since he's tall, I asked Duck what was going on. He reported that they were helping a very old black man to the stage. I asked him if it's possible that it was a very old black woman. He checked, and yes, it was possible.

They sang one of Jessie Mae's favorite songs, and by "they", I mean, Richard Johnston. Jessie Mae played the tamborine. After the song, the crowd again went wild. I thought that the Memphis folks must really like tamborine. Then we heard a scream, and Jessie Mae started singing and again brought the house down. About 12 years ago, she had a stroke which ended her career. Lab said she's a legend, which is why everyone was going nuts. I'll admit that I've heard her name, but am not that familiar with her music. Lab admitted he'd have to google her when he got home.


This was one of the few (read "only") music festivals I've attended that featured tractors, and lines of people waiting to drive them.








As we walked around the grounds, it was easily apparent that the festival featured food on sticks; chicken-on-a-stick, pork-on-a-stick, beef-on-a-stick. The Duck was hungry and ordered the original meat-on-a-stick; a turkey leg. We returned to the Blues tent, and I found myself sitting between him and one of The Wenches' friends, both of them ripping meat off of turkey legs. All they needed were trenchers and mugs of mead and we'd have a real barbaric meal. But seriously, the turkey smelled wonderful. The vendor proclaimed it the original Jamaican turkey.

Show of hands, how many people were surprised there are turkeys in Jamaica. I mean other than the sunburned kind arriving on cruise ships. Yeah, me either. I think it's hype.

Lab mentioned that there was an apparent error in the schedule and Bruce Hornsby, not Jerry Lee Lewis, would soon be playing on the stage close to the entrance; so we loaded up and headed out.

As it turned out, the schedule we had was correct, but we decided to stay and listen to The Killer. As we spread out the ground cover so thoughtfully brought by Lab and The Wench, a random guy wondered by started giving The Wench some guff for not throwing away a beer can that was next to her. She looked up and told him she hadn't thrown it there, that she properly throws things away. He continued by telling her she could throw it away anyway, and he proceeded to be really obnoxious. The guys nicely asked him to move along; but he chose to stay and hassle us. It was no surprise to me at all that the guy was wearing a shirt with a "Dirty D!cks" logo on it. How appropriate.

Lab told us that when The Duck and I were out getting Jamaican turkey legs, the guy gave them some trouble about saving our seats. A real pleasant fellow.

I tried to get a photo of Jerry Lee Lewis, but someone (quack) got in the way.










A number of people approached Lab and his wife and asked them where they got their mat we were sitting on, and complimented them on being so prepared. The explained that every year, they upgrade their provisions. They ran into some people from Michigan with fur-lined ponchos. I believe I saw Lab coveting them.

By the time The Killer had finished, we were pretty much wet and cold. We decided to listen to a little of Bruce Hornsby, and then head back to Beale Street and food not-on-a-stick. That place ended up being Huey's where we sat and talked for about two hours, covering a plethora of subjects; sleep disorders, how Lab and Wench met and fell in love, the fact that they got married on April 1 on purpose, writing styles, child rearing styles and Paul Teutul.

When we left Huey's, The Duck and I said goodbye to Lab and his wife, 'cause we weren't sure we'd be meeting up with them on Sunday. They were spending another day in Memphis, I was heading back to St. Louis and Duck was heading back to Nashville.

The plan was for us to walk to Duck's car and he'd drive me to my car. Remember I had mentioned his sense of direction earlier? After some wandering and wondering, I mentioned that I thought we were close to my car, so we could get it and then drive around looking for his. As we walked across a park opposite the FedEx Forum, a guy came up behind us asking for money. We said no and kept walking. He kept following. We told him to go away and walked faster. So did he. Duck told him we couldn't help, we only had plastic. We were sort of speed walking at that point; heard the guy mutter something, and he left. WHEW!

I saw the parking lot where my car was. And the high fence surrounding it with razor wire that stood between us. We walked around the circumference for quite aways before we found an opning to get in. I was beginning to worry that my car was locked up for the night. And about three blocks later, we found his car. Ironically, we had almost gotten to the parking lot, when we gave up and went to my car.

SUNDAY, MAY 7. BRUNCH.

Duck and I had decided to meet for brunch. Lab and Wench said they just drink coffee for breakfast. Well, if you are going to have Sunday brunch in Memphis, The Peabody is the place to go. And not surprisingly, he wanted to check in with the family.















Here he is having a private conversation with a cousin. You can kind of see him behind the fountain; I didn't want to intrude.










I had sent a text message to Lab telling him of our plans and asking if they could join us. The message back was that they were in search of a pharmacy with good drugs. Lab managed to come down with a cold and I'm sure sitting out in the rain didn't help. I'm hoping they got in some good music on their last day.

Sunday Brunch is in the Skyline Room. Very nice. The Duck had the more traditional brunch fare with a Bloody Mary, and I hit the salad and seafood bar and had another mimosa. Absolutely delicious. It sure beat the heck out of powdered donuts and YooHoo.

We pondered if The Peabody ever had duck on the menu. He suggested that perhaps they show the menu to the flock to keep them in line. I imagined a waiter some night saying, "Tonight's special is Gerald, a mal-performing mallard which the chef has prepared on a stick."

Then there was the dessert bar. To. Die. For.

After brunch, we went out on the terrace to view the skyline, and to check out the Duck Palace.



Seriously, the Peabody ducks live on the roof.

















This was when I began to suspect Federal Duck is a stalker.
















The Duck Palace even has a back yard.










We checked out the view of Memphis from the roof before heading down; such as AutoZone Park.


















We strolled down to Beale Street for a bit, I bought some souvenirs and then we said goodbye. Federal Duck is a great guy and a lot of fun.

On my way back to my car, I managed to get lost myself and in my searching, I ended up getting interviewed by the Fox News crew about panhandling. They said that Memphis is trying to deal with the problem and asked if I had experience any of it this past weekend. I related the stories about the Jerry Garcia guy and the guy who hassled us in the park. The interview was interrupted several times by trolley cars. I chided the guys a little bit for setting up shop next to the trolley tracks. I have no clue if that's going to be on the news tonight. I don't know anyone in Memphis to call and say "HEY, watch me on TV!"

Oh, side note about Lab; he tries to act like a curmudgeon; but it's hard for him to pull that off with that twinkle in his eyes. He and his wife are a load of fun, and I hope to be able to meet up with them and with Federal Duck next year for the music festival, if not before.

As I had said, we termed our plans as willy-nilly. At one point after we had all finally met up, we declared the will-nilly plan as successful. But Lab did say that he'd had plenty of willy and could use some nilly.

No one said anything as we digested that.

Then he said, "that didn't come out quite right."


Note on the Peabody Ducks: That is a tradition that started in the 1930's. The manager of the Peabody and some buddies went duck hunting in Arkansas. They had no luck, but when they returned, decided to put their three live decoys in the hotel's fountain. (live decoys were legal back then) It was a hit with the guests. The three original ducks were replaced with 5 mallards and a Duckmaster was assigned to them. The current Duckmaster is named Daniel Fox. Seriously. My link earlier in this thread takes you to a link about more info on the ducks, if you so desire.

And in the event you were wondering about the decision to put the original ducks in the fountain; yes, alcohol was involved.

www.flickr.com

This is a Flickr badge showing public photos from donajo@sbcglobal.net tagged with memphis. Make your own badge here.

WALKIN' IN MEMPHIS

This coming weekend, I'll be motoring to Memphis to meet up with Lab and the Duck. Next weekend, I'll fly to Texarkana to join Moose and Squirrel.

Seriously, this coming weekend is the Memphis In May International Festival, and I'm joining some friends there; Lab and his wife, The Wench (real names Gary and Cindy); and Federal Duck (real name Daffy).

I finally got around to making hotel reservations tonight. Had I known it was the Memphis In May INTERNATIONAL Festival, I might have made the reservations a little further ahead of time. I mean, I didn't know I was going to be competing with an international contingent of music lovers.

Pricel!ne.com basically laughed at me. I did get a suggestion from them of a motel in a podunk town in Mississippi, just across the border from Memphis. I ran it by Lab, who advised me to see if it was near cas!nos, and to read the reviews. The only review mentioned a bullet hole in the mirror. Seriously, a bullet hole. And mold on the walls. I'm guessing a guest may have been shooting at varmits in the room.

So, I passed on that, and found something else that is in the actual state of Tennessee, has a high probability of not having been a recent crime scene and offers a complimentary continental breakfast.

This is gonna be fun.

And yes, I know that a complimentary continental breakfast in Tennessee is probably a powdered donut and a Yoohoo.

UPDATE: Bloglit "Wysiwyg" from Canberra, Australia asked if a YooHoo is the same thing as a "WooHoo". Um. No. It is considered by some to be a drink of chocolatey wonderment. Apparently, after having a drink of it, one is moved to say "Yoo Hoo". I'll admit to drinking it as a kid, until I got one that was w-a-a-a-y past it's "born on date" out of a vending machine. Nasty!! Haven't had one since.

On its website, there is a link to "nutritional information." I laughed at the concept of YooHoo and Nutrition. But I checked it out and silly me; it even has riboflavin. Whatever that is.

UPDATE UPDATE: El asked if there is a picture of the hotel. I do happen to have one, but it's a little old.








Federal Duck gently chastised me about the Tennessee breakfast. He says that I'm wrong, it is really a Moon Pie and an RC Cola.





Fed, that is apparently lunch.

I'm going to need insulin after this weekend.

UPDATE UPDATE UPDATE: Lab is already calling me names. *snork*

SIGNS OF SPRING

Last weekend, Spring became official for me.

I bought my first pair of sandals.




First sale to be rung up was this cute pair of strappy black Aldo sandals. LOVE THEM!!!!








Then there was this pair of just for fun flipflops with sparklies all over them. OH. Something shiny!


And tomorrow, UPS will be delivering these red shoes that I bought from Zappos.com. I had never heard of them until my daughter told me that one of her professors orders from them all the time. Shoe shopping by internet.




America! What a country!!!

EASTER STORY

Meghan got a ride home from school for Easter weekend with a sorority sister, Meghan G. A year ago, Meghan G's dad was put on a list for a new liver. Recently, his name went to the top of the list. As I understand it, that means his health had deteriorated to the point it was becoming urgent, but he was still healthy enough to undergo the surgery.

They got a call early on Easter morning that a new liver became available.

The entire range of meaning of that was not lost on anyone. While Meghan G's family has been given new hope, another family is suffering on this Easter Sunday.

He is undergoing the surgery right now. God be with him and his family as they go through this. God be with the donor's family while they suffer their loss, and bless them for making the decision that has helped other families.

UPDATE: The surgery went well. Hopefully, all others benefitting from the generosity of the donor and his/her family are doing as well.

NEWS LITE

Warning: This is a mini rant. If you continue to read, consider yourself warned.

Back in my former life (when I was married) we subscribed to Time Magazine, which arrived every Wednesday. My husband had a meeting every Wednesday night, so I had the magazine all to myself. I'd fix a big salad for dinner, get out the magazine and read it from cover to cover. It took an entire evening to do that.

Then came the divorce. I've meant to subscribe, but never got around it it; until recently.

Several months ago, an adorable neighborhood urchin showed up selling magazine subscriptions. I took the opportunity to get back onto the Time Magazine bandwagon. The order form said I should start receiving the magazine in 6 weeks time; and sure enough a magazine arrived.

Maxim.

What?

And, the first time Maxim arrived was when my son-in-law was visiting. I shudder to think what he thinks is going on in his mother-in-law's world.

I called and after a number of transfers, got ahold of someone who had to have been all of 15. She informed me that "yeah, we don't offer Time or Newsweek anymore, so we sent you Maxim."

Again, what?

They snail mailed me a list of magazines I could choose from; which I snail mailed back. Really, who snail mails anymore? Because I was so inconvenienced, they were going to offer me two magazines, and I chose some cycling magazine and a running magazine (my daughter, the one who does not read this blog, wanted me to get the running magazine).

I'm still getting Maxim even though numerous calls have been made.

However, while in the checkout lane at a local computer store, I got roped into trying Time for 8 weeks for free.

It arrived this week. No one told me that it's no longer Time Magazine, but is now Time Pamphlet. Seriously. What used to take me all evening to read can now be read during commercial breaks.

Too bad I don't read Maxim, because it's much thicker.

Apparently, that's how things are now days in the magazine business, heavy on the titillation; light on the news.

UPDATE TO PLAYBALL THREAD

Today, we have a guest blogger, "anonymous" from the Playball thread. I was going for the "pictures are worth a thousand words" effect on that thread. "Anonymous", who sometimes comments as "Hydeman" posted a comment about last Tuesday night at the New Busch Stadium and I thought what he had to say deserved to be brought out of the comment section:

Additional Notes from Someone Who Was There....
- Sly was wearing a dress and heels at work. She walked several blocks to the stadium, then stood and walked in, over, under, around and through the stadium for about 2 hours, then walked several blocks back to her parking garage. She didn't complain about her feet hurting, but we all knew

- In the second camera-phone photo, you see the upper deck in right field. Access is by elevator (for wimps), by ramps (for sissies), and by stairs (for real men). 116 stairs from ground level. Come to think of it, do real men count stairs? Hmmm.

- The AA team, Springfield Cardinals, beat the AAA team, Memphis Redbirds, in the first-ever baseball game in the new stadium. Memphis' Shaun Boyd hit the first home run in the new stadium. For extra credit, remember that it was hit off of Sidney Ponson, pitching for Springfield that night, but really he's one of the St. Louis Cardinals' starting pitchers this year.

- The mascots were out in force. Springfield had their bird, Memphis had their bird, and St. Louis had their guess what -- bird. All red. All cardinals. We had a covey of them. I know there's a bird-flu joke in there somewhere, but I can't think of it.


Ed Note about the stair climbing: There was no frikkin' way I was climbing stairs in high heels. Judy (hydeman's girlfriend) had knee issues, so she and I opted not to climb stairs (or count them). The elevators have actual real live operators, for some reason. When Judy and I were taking the elevator down, we asked for the second floor. The operator told us the elevator didn't open on the second floor, that we'd have to get off on the third floor and walk down. Oh-kay, a little odd.

We did that and we arrived on the second floor as the elevator got there. The doors opened and the operator announced "Mezzanine." I swear, I did not make that up.

PLAY BALL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

At 4:30 this afternoon, some friends of mine called to tell me they had an extra ticket to tonight's exhibition game between Memphis and Springfield. My first time at the new stadium!! YAY!

It looked magnificent!

As it was at the last minute, I didn't have my camera, but had my phone. The following are shots I took with that; not the best, but something.



My friends standing in line to have their purses checked by the security guard to ensure they weren't going to blow up the place.






The scoreboard from the old stadium.








They have a "Build-a-Bear Workshop" inside the stadium. Only it's a "Build-a-Fredbird Workshop."










I love a ball stadium at night under the lights!

April 2, 2006

If you had any access with any form of the media on Sunday evening, you knew parts of the midwest were getting hit with storms.

My parents and I had the good fortune of skirting everything.

Meghan and a friend of hers rode out one of the storms in the shower room of a truck stop with their 50 newest friends outside of Hopkinsville, Kentucky.

Yes, Hopkinsville, KY where tornadoes touched down today. Now that she's home safe, I'm finally breathing at a normal rate.

Jenni flew out of Nashville this evening, apparently just minutes before the storm. She said they were rushed onto the plane and into the air, trying to beat the storm; then had a very bumpy flight. No surprise there.

The following are shots of the clouds we saw this evening while traveling up I-57 from Marion to Mt. Vernon, Illinois.














We apparently got home after this area had been hit. The retirement center where my parents live is operating off of a generator. All of my clocks are blinking and the readout on my microwave is in Spanish; and the readout on my home phone is in Greek.

But we're all safe.

Thankfully.

UPDATE: I did a little research, and those clouds are Mammutus clouds. They form in sinking air; which doesn't sound good. But apparently it is a good sign. While a rare cloud formation, they appear after the worst of a storm has passed.

AFTER APRIL 10......

....do 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

*park

*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*

CAMERA TIME!!!

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.

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.

WRITER'S BLOCK

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.

PUBLIC HUMILIATION

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.

Oh.

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.

Oh.

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

He walks by and hugs the TWENTY SOMETHING YEAR OLD GIRL BEHIND ME AND SAYS "HI SWEETIE!!"

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.

Oh.

Bastard.

RAMBLINGS ON TOOLS, HOME CONSTRUCTION, APPLIANCES, AND AQUARIUMS

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.

Time for a Time Out?

This kid is going to be sooooooooooooooooooooo grounded!!