I get to see the boys this weekend. I haven't for awhile. This song ties with "Walls of Time and "Tonight I'll be Staying Here With You" as my favorite.
It is, however, one of my favorite songs to hear live, period.
I love this song. It's my first 2007 anthem.
Laura Love is charming, and a crazy-good bass player.
I've been on a Springsteen kick since I recently read an essay about a guy who met him at the movies in the 70s when he was on tour, and invited him home to meet his family. Bruce went.
It was a great essay. Check out the current issue of Sun Magazine in the chi-chi lit section of your local overpriced chain bookstore. This song is itself a sad short story, so it fits.
That verse about the wedding is a doozy. I'd love to hear Mary's response to it all.
Patty Griffin:
New record February 6th!
Yay! I love Patty so much. She's one of the greats, which means I forgive her for making me cry when she sings.
All of her songs are rated "explicit" on iTunes. This is just..
.strange. One would expect a George Carlin comedy record, which one does not get.
Awesome voice...
wonderful songwriter, and one of the best "new" artists in recent memory.
These girls did a nice job with this cd, which makes the stops on their upcoming tour way curious to me. A garlic festival and a casino golf resort in Iowa?
Weird. But I do enjoy the little cowgirl on their show listing. That's a new one.
I finally bought this cd for six dollars. I've had it on repeat for two months, which makes me laugh for so many reasons, but it's just kind of crawled into my head and won't leave. I'm not really sure how that happened, and it's a bit disturbing.
I'll be dealing with it soon.
It's on the Freedom Writers soundtrack, which I would say was dope if I didn't sound like a total ass saying it.
Because I can be pretend-hip with the best of them, sister.
(Seriously, this is a good song.)
It's the holiday season, and aren't we all supposed to be all benevolent and gift-giving? Thought so.
Here are a few to whet your whistle (SO dumb.
I hate that phrase. Daily low = hit it.) Still-life: Christmas pedicure and bad hotel carpet (and coffee on my flip-flop slippers, if you look close.
Flip-flop slippers=current favorite shoes on planet. They're a spa day for your feet.)
Speaking of such encounters - was one of our speakers.
He wears a nametag every day, and in fact has one tattooed on his chest, which is related somehow to a career in public speaking. God bless America.
One of my favorite people.
He not only burns me Greenday cds on command, but also, in the land of PIE that is Lancaster, Pennsylvania, he says PPPPPPPPAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIII...
...
...
spontaneously with me a la Eric Cartman, which no one EVER does, although it is the ONLY reasonable response to a table full of banana cream, coconut cream, chocolate (oh Lord) and (oh MARY) peanut butter. I mean, really.
Where do I begin with all that I perceive to be wrong with this picture?
Because this is where I ended.
And two other Pennsylvania shots..
.
This is in York, on the way home. My friend Denise called and offered me a ticket to see Aida at the very cool , because she knew I'd be driving right by on my way home.
So of course, because why would I want to get the hell out of Pennsylvania for the first time in a week and actually sleep, and also because I love Elton John, and Denise, I agreed. Good thing. It was a great show and now I have another cd to spend my dwindling funds (stay away from outlets, people - the electrical AND the shopping kind) on.
And finally, this is one shot from the Philly engagement party. Many more are better, but they tell their own story. In this case, I walked in the house and saw this picture, and was all, Oh, hello, Mr.
Praying Man with bread and cheese. I've seen you before, on someone else's wall. Weird, and especially so because where I've seen him before, his female partner (his wife, go ahead and say it.
They got married all the time back in those days...
) is in another frame, praying from the opposite direction. So now my sister's new in-laws can confirm that HER sister is insane because she appeared sad for a fake praying person in a painting because he was alone (not that I SAID that, but it was kind of clear), a little unnerved that one side was NOT like the other, as it certainly should be when this painting is hung, and also nuts for taking a picture of their walls. Good thing the phrase That's just how I roll came into vogue, because it's really the only explanation I have for everything.
And like the thirteen-year-old I am, I'm not really certain that ANYONE understands.
Off to run. Shoot me.
| After a brief trip to Philadelphia this weekend, I'm continuing my Pennsylvania tour in the Amish country of Lancaster, fighting with a faulty high-speed Internet connection and half listening to a show on the History Channel about the origins of many Christmas snacks. This includes fried turkey and Swiss Colony Beef Logs, and let me just say, you're better off not knowing about some things. The hotel room is quite festive in an upsetting way, as there are several competing floral patterns going on in here - curtains, bedspread, pictures on the wall.
And this goes down as the first room I've ever stayed in where the Bible was not shoved into a drawer, but lay open on the desk to the Book of Psalms. I dare you to say that I'm not living it up like Posh Spice at Tom-Kat's wedding. Do I know how to roll or what?
I'm here for work, along with a few very cool people from that part of my world, so it should be good. Things pretty much took an immediate turn for the better today after I got out of the lobby of Mr. Tire.
Do not ever patronize a business that calls itself Mr. or Ms. (exception for the magazine, of course) or Dr.
when it's not any of those things. This should really be a given, but I lapsed. Mr.
Tire = Mr. Royally Sucks, unfortunately. Pennsylvania, on the other hand, is a paradise of funnily named places and things.
Somewhere around York I drove by a sign for Malleable Road , which pleased me greatly, and led me to think stupid things for awhile like, Flexible people must live on Malleable Road . I may want to write something about it later, so don't steal it, like ANYONE would want to lift that brilliant line, I'm sure.
Lancaster is also home to a bar named Bubba's, which intensifies its small-town credibility immensely.
Notice that it isn't Mr. Bubba's. And it's in a brownstone on a street corner, with Christmas lights up and down the railing, just like it should be in my schema of smalltown bars named Bubba's.
Anyway, now that I'm here, here are a few things that have caught my eye as possible wacky activities after conference time is through - or maybe even during a slow period...
although I'm disgustingly responsible at these sorts of things:
* where the slogan is Slow down the hurry, and I could really just talk about that for awhile but I won't because you can talk to yourself about it just as well. I knew there was an Intercourse, Pennsylvania, but I had no idea where it was, and when I showed up here, the pamphlet rack in the lobby told the tale. Witness was filmed there, and apparently you can shop your face off in the village itself, so maybe this is where I'll pick up some of my I totally thought of you in Intercourse holiday relishes and candles and baskets and whatnot.
There's also the which appears to have an awesome array of pretzel-like goodies (again...
Happy holidays! Here's a chocolate-covered pretzel! Love ya!
) and where I'm really hoping they have t-shirts.
*I have got to go to Bird-in-Hand, Pennsylvania, simply because it's called Bird-in-Hand. Come on now.
, but I can't figure out if it's the jam people or not. The Website indicates that they're a Pennsylvania Dutch dynasty of some sort, but I'll stop myself from saying that with a name like Smuckers..
.well, you know. Bird-in-Hand is only five miles from here, so I can risk the journey regardless.
(IT HAS TO BE GOOD! Sorry. I'm a slave to the easy joke that references a commercial.
)
* There is a up here, which actually runs what sounds like an iMax (three screen? New one on me.) movie called Who are the Amish?
I don't even know what a Biblical Tabernacle Reproduction is either, but they've got one of those too. I don't know about that. Maybe the Psalm was a sign.
*Tanger Outlets. Must stay away. Need shoes but will not succumb.
*The weirdest thing I've seen so far is a about twenty minutes away whose slogan is, What if Mother's Day were a place? Here's the rest: We've created a place where moms' needs come first..
.a place where Mom can put a spring in her step, a smile on her face, and spend time shopping for new fashions. It's a mall made just for you, Mom.
Welcome.
It's good to know we've got one whole place to coop up all the Moms, because I know I'd want my needs to especially come first at the MALL.
Weird.
Also, there are allegedly excellent biscuits here, which might be the greatest attraction of all. I somehow don't think that works into a low-carb situation, but I suppose I can blame it on research.
I like them, mostly, this time around, unlike Texas where I was like, Ew, who is this unoriginal photographer?
Holy shit, it's me! Here are a few of my favorite shots.
Mom in front of CBS and the Broadway Theatre.
This is my favorite person ever. He was hanging out in his windowsill on Sunday morning in Little Italy watching the crowds on the street (note the pillows he has set up for padding.) When I hesitated to take his picture, he flashed the peace sign and yelled for me to take it.
Awesome. (Make sure you click on it to make it bigger or check it on flickr so you can see his expression. I wish I'd stuck around and tried some more, as I'm sure he would have been down.
)
| I decided it was probably time to move the Shitty header down, as much as it's been making me laugh. And it seemed a good time to highlight some more of my pictures from some recent travels and other random fun and games. If you're a contact, pardon the repetition.
..but I know you don't get much of the backstory on there, and you have to be dying for it.
Right? ; )
First, there's my dog and the latest installment in his ongoing showdown with the fiercest rubber monster in all the land. This thing could kick some serious ass.
If it were REAL. I don't know what exactly he thinks it is, but he goes ballistic in his old, demented doggie way whenever I - of course- antagonize him by bringing it cloooooooooosssssssseeeeeeeee to his face, and then faaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrr away.
Relax.
Eventually I let him win. He always wins. This thing makes him nuts, so I don't make him wait as long to chase it and (I'm sure he thinks.
..) kill its already inanimate self.
I guess it would freak me out from that angle too, though...
with this coming at me and whatnot:
My friend Andrew is not a monster, but he's crazy for Greek food, and I like to feed people, so I bought him some. He smiled like this.
Let's see, what's next?
Oh, yes. Before I bought him food, I took this picture. Home is pretty.
Pretty, pretty home. : )
Last week I went to Indiana. Marcus, my colleague and adopted little brother, was the best co-pilot ever, and I don't just say that because he makes up new lyrics to Chain Hang Low that make me laugh and laugh.
I mostly say it because of that, but not entirely. He also has a perfect sense of direction, and this is essential when serving as my co-pilot. We went to Bloomington, and also took a sidetrip to Dayton, where I saw Steven's new house.
And then we went to the Dayton Friday's and caught up for a very short time, but it was good. He votes for happy hour, by the way.
Indianapolis was an okay city to hang out in.
I went to my first NBA game, got to go to Steak Shake for the first time since I left Dayton (thank God they don't have them here. Too much of a good thing), visited the , which is gorgeous, and showed Marcus the . I didn't have any good Dayton propaganda, so I bought an overpriced hoodie that I swear I never want to take off.
It's going to be an integral part of my schlumpy winter uniform.
My friend Annett was in town for business for just that day, too, and happened to call from the airport to see what I was up to, having no idea I was there. She lives in Virginia now, but I met her in Ohio, so it was funny that she was there, and we all got to meet up and have dinner.
We were joking that it figures that I come to town for one day after being gone for seven years and I can still compose a dinner party faster than I can in Maryland some days. It's a homey place like that. This is her with some of Marcus's dessert at , where I must have eaten once a week when I lived there.
He's still talking about that dessert, in fact, as evidenced by this photograph that seems to say, Is that a foreign spoon heading towards my apple loveliness? All I can say is that I will not steer you wrong in the culinary landscape, my friend.
I also went to the Eiteljorg, a of Native American art in Indy, and saw this excellent machine, the .
It's an old cigarette machine that dispenses works of art on blocks about the size of...
a pack of cigarettes. It's part of the museum exhibit and also works, so it ate five bucks of my money and gave me a painting of a sheep on a block of wood. The pinhole photo one was out, so I just pulled at random and got this woman's work.
Awesome idea. If you care about art - particularly innovative work - you need to click on that link, honest, or , where you can find out where all the machines are. And if you're a working artist, they take submissions.
I bet it's not a big moneymaker, but how cool. Maybe I'll send some photos. Don't know.
But click. Go ahead. You want to.
The museum has three Georgia O'Keeffe paintings, and I loved this one. I wanted it. Even a print would have done, but there were none to be had.
This photo was taken at a store in Indianapolis that Brittany recommended to me. If you can see the handwritten sign between Johnny Cash and Miles Davis, it says, I am not afraid of you and I will beat your ass, which I found most fitting.
Also in Indiana, we saw Sandy Allen, the lady who happens to be the at a Pacer's game.
(And in further proof that Wikipedia is a goldmine of somewhat unreliable weirdness, check out that Split Enz wrote a song about her, called Hello Sandy Allen . Bizarre.) People were talking to her and getting her autograph, and she seemed chill about the whole thing - motoring around outside in the rain after the game with her hood up, smoking a cigarette.
We saw a blues band who were a combo of Christopher Lloyd in Back to the Future, a slightly less shaggy Garth from Wayne's World, and maybe the guy from Sixteen Candles? They were good, in any case. These signs were key to the downtown Indianapolis experience.
They're animated, and are . It was weird to see the street sign slinking towards you seductively, but I dig the concept.
I came home and immediately headed to Susan and Ray's wedding.
It was such a great day. She was so serenely happy, it radiated from her out into the air and standing next to her you just kind of sighed. For instance, this was the most serenely happy version of YMCA that I've ever seen.
I've never seen so many smiles in one day. They just couldn't stop smiling. They are so sweet, and so happy.
I love that in people.
| What a very good couple of days this has been. I'm in Indiana.
I love the Midwest, and I don't even really know why. I began a post before I left about the reasons and the whos and whats and all that, but I don't know if any of that one will make sense anymore. I try to get out here in the fall, but I missed last year, so good thing it worked out this time.
I'm traveling with a colleague/friend (work trip this time) whose personality is the yin to my yang, so it's worked out well.
We're based in Indianapolis, which is actually a pretty cool city. I was here several years ago and in the between time they've spruced it up a lot.
Midwestern cities are clean in general (except for Gary, Indiana. What the hell happened there?), but this one is really really oddly clean.
There's a ton of stuff to do in the downtown area, which I don't remember from before, but my head was in a different space then, and I was traveling with three middle-aged women who didn't want to go anywhere and watched me like a hawk the whole time, so I probably settled for less than exciting stuff. I'm over that kind of thing, obviously. There are several neighborhoods with lots of live music (jazz in particular, which is interesting), an awesome Borders downtown, a nice shopping center with a Nordstrom and everything (big news for this part of the world.
) This is good, cause I have a wedding on Saturday almost immediately after I get off the plane, so it'll be good to have a dress since I don't think sweats will work. I get to go to a Pacers game tomorrow with the boys from work, and that should be interesting. And in between I'll learn stuff about how to do my job better, which is really a need lately.
We went to Bloomington yesterday to visit Indiana University. It's such a gorgeous campus and meets my vision of the perfect little college town. I could have really felt better about almost failing out of my freshman year of college if I'd done it somewhere like that instead of skulking around College Park binging on sesame bagels.
Yesterday was also notable because I introduced my friend to Steak and Shake - a Midwestern institution whose cherry coke and cheeseburger meal is laced with an addictive drug. It had been way too long. We also drove by the Classy Chassy Go Go Bar, which merits a mention, for a variety of reasons.
Today we drove to Dayton. Dayton. Haha.
So many years ago I lived there, and so much water under the bridge and all that, but not much changes there. I was in town for ten hours but it was good for my tired little soul. I got to go to my grad school campus, and then see a friend of mine who just bought a house right up the street from where I used to live for a RIDICULOUSLY low price compared to Maryland standards.
Seriously, he paid 200,000 less than this house would go for at home. Crazy. Still, I was so glad to see his new spot, regardless of the fact that I'll be squatting in a cardboard box for that amount of money at home before it's all said and done.
Whatever it is.
It turned out that a friend of mine whose company has a base in Dayton was also in town for the day from Maryland, so she met us and we had dinner at Bravo and drinks at Fridays (fine dining for these parts.) It turned into a day of perfect coincidences and good memories, and that was so great and warm and fuzzy and all that shit that's sometimes lacking.
I like when different parts of my life intersect in good ways, considering that most of my friends come from different areas of my life and lots of them don't even know each other. It starts to make a little bit more sense when people come together - especially when they seem to like each other or at least don't stare at each other blankly or with looks of disgust.
Anyway, my Dayton story has been told here in bits and pieces so I won't belabor it.
Although it's a place I'd love to live in again for the sense of comfort that it brings me now, I know I won't go back. I need to go somewhere, but it won't be there. I like knowing it's out here, though, with its 24-hour groceries that my major metro area remarkably lacks, and comfortable bookstores and easily driveable roads and familiar places I like to go to and people who seem more concerned about who you are than what you - and they - do.
I like going back to UD and seeing the changes in the campus and buying stuff I don't need in the bookstore. I like keeping track of where my life has been, so I can either decide where I don't want to ever go again, or remember stuff I wanted to do that I've conveniently forgotten.
And most of all, I love road trips with someone who sings made up lyrics with me to Chain Hang Low and Word Up, which was the funniest shit ever and for that reason alone made this trip worth it.
| Okay. . They're in sets - Santa Cruz, San Francisco, and Blogher (San Jose.
) If you see yourself, add a note, so I know you're out there.
A photograph of the audio team made it on and also got a shoutout from in . (That sounded like an afterschool special.
Or a very special episode where something tragic befalls the most fragILE character. Sorry.) Can't wait to work with these awesome people again - in , one of the best cities in the country.
I'm thinking of doing a cross-country drive next year, so maybe I can smack the conference in the middle. Crazy idea? Sure - like stupid looks, they're free around here.
..every day, but especially on Sunday.
| I'm in Santa Cruz, which is pretty cool. I drove in this morning from San Jose, after yet another bizarre hotel shuttle interaction. Perhaps more on that later.
It's just beautiful here. It's only 40 minutes from San Jose but it's like another planet. It's different than I expected, but I'm not even really sure what that was.
Monterey Bay is beautiful, and I got a room that's right on it, so I can hear the waves right now this minute, and I just love that. (EDIT: I should add that I think I hear sea lions squawking too, unless I'm totally lame and stupid and what I'm hearing are just really big ducks. We saw sea lions in San Franciso and they are so much fun to watch.
They're drama queens, really. All in all California is kind of a blast for me just because it's so different from the East Coast, and you know I'm all about the oddities of any and all situations. Not gonna lie.
)
I walked around downtown as soon as I got here, and ate lunch at a fabulous place right on the main street in the shopping district. The water was served in vases shaped like the Eiffel Tower that I really wish to own right now. Lots of street folk here, lots of begging.
One guy said to me, Two dollars for a beer? For a beer.
I found Bookshop Santa Cruz right away, and that was great.
I have no patience for shopping or hauling more shit home at this point though, so I just went in to breathe the air and get a map. I actually had to get another duffel bag at a Ross store here to haul what I do have. We got lots of stuff at Blogher, plus i overpacked because I really didn't know what to expect from any aspect of my trip.
I brought many clothing OPTIONS. : ) Then there's the sick problem I have with bringing books along, which are heavy, and I never have a big enough carry-on. The handle broke today on the one I did bring, so I had to find a reinforcement.
Anyway, the bag was like 20 bucks at Ross, and I now highly recommend checking them out for cheap luggage. It ain't gonna match, and there's some weird stuff like the random, huge, bright orange Ralph Lauren Polo bag, but whatever. If you need to get some stuff home for pretty cheap, that's your store, especially if it's an emergency, which for me it kind of was.
I considered dropping the crap that I couldn't fit off at the Santa Cruz Goodwill, but I realized that I needed to read the books I brought and I only brought clothes I had no desire to pitch, so that idea was shot.
This afternoon I took a train up into the redwood forest on Bear Mountain, and that was really cool. I love the proximity of the mountains and the forest to the ocean here.
I loved that about Italy and it's similar. I also drove through the University of California, Santa Cruz campus. This place is just incredible.
I'll post some links later.
Tonight I ate at a restaurant on the wharf that was pretty good, and walked the boardwalk (which is actually a concrete walk) and took tons of photos. I had a whole 1 gig card left, so I figured why not.
I think I got some pretty good stuff. Hard to tell until I download it. I worked in black and white and sepia tones with manual settings today for some of my shots, so I'm really curious to see how that works out.
I'm a little out of practice.
Tomorrow I go home, and that's okay too. I have some stuff to do so I can stop thinking about it, and I have lots of ideas from the conference that I really want to toss around and see what's up.
I have to go back to San Jose one more time (sigh) and drop off this car and catch a plane, where I'll get to sit in a middle seat for four hours. Just excellent. I have a layover in Chicago which is one of my very favorite cities, but I don't know if it's long enough to call out for some pizza.
even.
I'm really happy that I made it to California. I definitely want to come back and check out the rest of northern California.
It's so interesting. I loved San Francisco and I like it here too..
.There's just so much to see and such limited time sometimes, but I'm fitting it in wherever I can. Wish me luck that I wake up for sunrise and a long enough walk on the cliff road before I have to go back to the silicon valley and the endless supply of shuttle and cab drivers demanding more money.
I'll be so glad to be done with that for now.
I can't even fully process everything that I'd like to write down at this point, which may or may not make me an adequate keeper of a blog.
Just, all I can say is that the days since Thursday have been a wonderful blur of everything good, except for a hotel room that I don't enjoy (see post below containing the Saga of the Open Door.
) I cannot remember having a better time clothed. (Were you waiting for a smiley face or some shit like that? Some things I totally don't joke about.
For real.) was amazing. It was everything glowy and good that you may have read about or experienced if you've arrived here from that part of my world (and if you have, rock on!
I'm glad you dropped by! And why am I all of a sudden exclaiming when I normally despise the overuse of exclaiming? Curious.
) And if you came here otherwise and don't know what in the world this Blogher is of which I speak, just know that it is most excellent,and the snacks were overwhelmingly adequate.
I wasn't really sure what to expect at this conference, but it honestly was not to have such a wonderful time. I'm in a field where conferences equal ten hour days of workshops and lectures and poster sessions and roundtables on seriously DEEP THOUGHTS.
..where heavy stuff is piled on top of heavy stuff so by the time the day is over you're just beat.
This week was so, so different.
At this event, I felt energized. From literally the hour I arrived, I met cool woman after cool woman, all who write or somehow keep a record online about their lives, their communities, the social issues they care about, politics, art, food - everything.
Literally everything, and they really want to tell you about it.
I'm having trouble describing this in a way that isn't sort of overwrought and dramatic, because at times I felt like that. It was nice to know that other people were feeling and experiencing the things that I sit and think and write about at 2 a.
m. in my basement, feeling freakish. It was great to meet people and find that they were just as excellent in person.
I liked meeting mommybloggers and women whose dogs are their kids about equally. I loved being on the podcasting team, and when I've found the link, will tell you what movies to go see our leader Toy in (she doesn't keep a blog, by the way, but she's promised to take a peek at mine now and again.) I'm going to post very soon a list of links to some of the great women writers that I met.
I think they should get as wide an audience as possible.
Today I went with some new friends to San Francisco, and I truly wasn't there long enough (only sorry that had to leave - good times were had!) Melanie Morgan of New Media Collective took the Caltrain in with me, and then we grabbed a bus to Chinatown.
After a yummy dim sum lunch, we found the cable cars and rode to Fisherman's Wharf. We met up with and there, the goddesses of videoblogging, and walked around and took pictures and met people..
.and ate some more, and shopped a little. I can't wait to go back to this beautiful city.
I know I saw about twenty percent - maybe - of what I'd like to see.
I know I'm leaving stuff out. I'm tired.
Tomorrow I go to Santa Cruz, so I can see what Cali beach town is like. Given my love of the ocean, this is of course very crucial comparative geography. I'm home on Tuesday at midnight, and work beckons almost immediately (oh lord please help me now), but there's so much I want to detail - so many interesting and talented women I need to link to - I'll need an extra day next week to catch up.
Many, many thanks to , for allowing me to sign on as a travel and recreation editor for Blogher. I wouldn't have had this experience if it weren't for you. You're one of my American idols, that's for sure.
More about all of this later, but I'm so tired.
| So I'm here in San Jose, which is going quite well. I'm having an absolute shit-kicking blast.
I'm serious. I am so incredibly glad that I came out here, and that's after a day and a half. I imagine tomorrow will be even better.
There will be more details to come, I'm certain.
We're staying in a Hyatt by the airport. It's okay.
It's a little dodgy - nothing too special, but it's clean, which is my main concern. I can't stand dirty places, or places that feel dirty even if they don't look it. And at this point, I'm used to staying in hotels by myself, and that doesn't bother me either.
But tonight, I came back from a long day of working on the podcasting team (hello? I'm on the audio support team. Can you believe that shit?
I am wearing headphones and operating expensive recording equipment. I KNOW. And today this guy told me I had good levels , because all of the green lights stayed green and the orange light stayed orange and the red light only showed up a few times.
And when he said that I got all proud of myself. I'm insisting that we all get our photo taken with our headphones on tomorrow. I'm sure I'll share.
)
ANYWAY, I came back from all that techie goodness, and my hotel door was...
open. Like, I went to put the key card in, and the door just pushed open. I was terrified.
They had made some announcement that because the blogher conference was on the front page of the local paper, the hotel was all concerned because now people knew there were 700 women with laptops and expensive cameras populating the Hyatt , and we should be careful with our stuff. So I imagined that whomever they were talking about had, of course, come personally to my 3rd floor room and just, well, opened my door. I didn't know what to do.
I'm in kind of a remote building on this property, which also doesn't thrill me, so I thought that if some dude was hiding in my bathtub and I went in the room, no one would hear me scream. I have, shall we say, the gift of fear. So I skulked downstairs, and promptly ran into who lives in Baltimore and has a site that I love.
Hmm, I said to her, I'm probably being really paranoid, but the door to my room was open and now I'm a little (HA! TRY SCARED SHITLESS TIL SUNDAY) to go in. Hm.
Do you want me to go with you, to check it out? she said. Eternally grateful, I said, Would you?
and she was all, Sure. I'll go. So Tracy and I went up the elevator again to my open-door room.
She pushed the door and said, Hellooooooo? while I kind of stood there like a person whose room it was not .There was no answer, of course, so she came in with me and looked in the closet and the bathroom, and there was nobody there.
I felt a little silly, but in the manner of a woman who I will totally love for all time, she said that she was always about people feeling safe, and whatever she could do.
No really, so nice of her.
So there was no one in my room, and I had kept all money and my camera and computer with me all day.
The windows to my room were unlocked (this place and then Boston. What's with all the unsealed hotel windows?) I didn't know they had locks, and I noticed that the curtains (which are approximately 67 years old anyway) were kind of yanked off on one end.
I couldn't remember if they were like that when I left, or if my mind was playing tricks on me. Everything else seemed intact in the room, which was odd also.
I'm still a little nervous - and I don't care about stuff so much as my personal safety, of course.
It's scary to think that someone could be in your room, or that they can just come and go as they please. I hope the rest of the week is completely uneventful in that regard, and now, since it's almost 4 EST, I'm going to pass out. The windows are closed and the door is bolted.
Nothing to see here.
Just for a moment. Just for an hour.
Song of the day - Just to be Close to You , Lionel Richie. Why? WE-he-hell, hold on a minute, hot stuff.
That is called a setup. Or foreshadowing. Or something.
..
Really, why?
Okay, so I'm currently in the Los Angeles airport (which is really sort of dumpy, much to my surprise) and I'm not ashamed to admit that I was all about seeing Brangelina or Jessica Simpson while I was here. Can't help it. Years of a weekly smack habit called People magazine (and now the too.
God. I have no shot at being a productive citizen ANY MORE. It's OVER.
) have bred a benign interest in the famous, the silly, the talented, and the talentless that I can only defend because I read a lot of smart people stuff too that makes me have to think and ponder and analyze something way beyond whether or not Tom Cruise has locked his daughter up in a cage. We all need breaks, and People is my thing (one of them, anyway. You really don't want to know how many there actually are, but I'm sure you can imagine.
)
I haven't given up hope on the Brangelina or Jessica sighting, for sure, but I will tell you one thing that almost surpasses that possibility: I saw Lionel Richie! I was looking around for some wireless and some food, in that order, because I'm a cracked out internet junkie with a deep and abiding problem. It's a good thing I'm busying my hands with this madness because I guess otherwise I'd really be at my highest weight ever at this point.
(not yet, thank God. There's still hope, and as long as I can measure it in ounces I'm going to.)
Sorry, digression.
So yeah, I'm in LAX, like People always calls it - i.e., Mary Kate Olsen fuels up with a mango and coke (get it?
Get their smooth insinuations and friendly yet deadly patter? Oh yeah, it's how Star Tracks rolls, totally) smoothie as she waifs her way through LAX after a red-eye from NYC. And I was walking along, and damned if there wasn't Li-o-NEL, right there.
Of course I'm fresh off my high where he was the headliner, and have long since outed myself as a fan of both his AND the Commodores. I've even forgiven him partially for Ballerina Girl at this point (although never Say You, Say Me, because that stupid fast bridge at the end is so lame and the lyrics so ridiculous that I can't bear to hear it, even if it means turning off Delilah.)
I unfortunately missed my chance at paparazzi-dom (like I'd need another method of being PART OF THE PROBLEM.
Really.) because I haven't slept in a long time and I was kind of disoriented, so my reaction time was bad. I'd just gotten off a long flight where the Very Important Airplane Designer next to me used his laptop the whole time and kept knocking into me.
He didn't do it hard, just enough to be annoying after the tenth time, and when it got up in the hundreds, blah. He had no using the computer in the center seat skills, and five hours of that plus no sleep just isn't good. I did make an initial grab for the camera bag, but I was too slow, and Lionel had already passed me.
A photo of his back was within the realm of possibility, but that seemed a little pathetic even to me, and standing as I was in the middle of the concourse, I knew that in my current bedraggled state I would not just look like but would indeed BE Crazy Camera Lady. I'm not trying to get this camera yanked on my first day in California. I could be a plant for the Enquirer for all they know.
So congratulate me - or feel sorry for me that I care a little bit, pick your poison - that I saw an interesting-to-me famous person in my first hour on the west coast. I imagine I'll be geeking out quite a bit more than maybe even is usual, so I'm not apologizing in advance, even though I probably should.
| I really did have a great time in Boston.
I enjoyed the vast majority of my trip, and think it's a wonderful city. One of my last thoughts as I was lugging my stuff to the T (besides the general please don't let me collapse and die and/or miss my flight, because I have nowhere to stay tonight and I'm running out of money thing) was I should have listened to my junior/senior year English teacher and gone to Smith. But regret is pointless (particularly at this late date) and who knows, maybe I'd have gone up there at 17 and been killed in a freak duck boat accident.
So, you never know. It was just something I felt when I was getting on the train.
In my experience it was a very friendly city, also.
For all the talk of southern hospitality, I really didn't find Atlanta welcoming AT ALL (except for my great friends...
I mean, I'm talking about the attitude of the area and the vibe you get when you're generally roaming around), and everyone I had contact with in Boston (for the most part, I may be forgetting an odd asshole) was friendly. This is up to and including the AirTran desk staff who moved me to another flight last night. When the guy weighed my baggage, it showed up at 77 pounds on the scale, and he said, OH MISS.
..you're OVERWEIGHT.
Well, duh. I mean, please, tell me something I don't know. But I work really hard, packrat traveler that I am, to make sure my bags don't suffer the same fate, So I said, in my inimitable stressed out articulation, JESUS CHRISTMAS, HOW DID I MANAGE THAT?
?? scoring me a look from a lady one row over that said, Did you really just say Jesus Christmas ?
The lady at the desk said, OH, he's kiddin' you. He put his foot on the scale. And I looked down, and so he did.
Accomodating (One m or two? One? Or two?
I'm never certain...
Geez I think it's two) airport staff with a sense of humor? Craziness.
Anyway, the spell was broken when I got on the BWI parking shuttle.
This harmless looking older man sat down across from me, and proceeded to share his insights from his trip to New Orleans with me and the bus driver on the interminable ride back to the lot. These included his opinion that Jesse (Jackson) and (Al) Sharpton were down there. They don't want to let this mayor go because he's black.
And then he proposed his solution to the immigration problem , which entailed giving Texas, California, New Mexico and Arizona back to the Mexicans, since it belonged to them in the first place, and then they can live however they want. Opinions? Yes, he had them.
And apparently he felt that he needed to share them with two of the least appropriate people on the face of the Earth, who happened to be the only two people in his sphere at that moment, of course.
Mind you, the bus driver was black, and just sort of giggled along with him, I think because he didn't know what else to say or do. I mean, here's this guy just shooting the shit like he's talking about Orioles' opening day, and instead he's making these inflammatory and racist comments, to one man who's a member of one of the groups he's slagging, and a woman who didn't want to hear his crap either.
I was just...
floored that he was babbling on all jovial-like about this on an AIRPORT SHUTTLE. Once he realized I wasn't interested in listening, he (of course) started talking more in my direction, and louder, adding I'm sure my platform won't win me any elections. And if I had the guts, and I hadn't been so tired, and had my mind not been racing with bewilderment at what he was saying, I might have said what I think now when I read that, which is I'll vote for you in the election to GET OFF THIS BUS.
It was just swell.
But anyway, the weekend was, totally unsarcastically, swell, and that was cool. Now back to other stuff (not the least of which is planning the next trip - New Orleans, I believe.
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