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31 July
Return from blogging sabbatical
Dear world,
I got tired of blogging, so I stopped. But that doesn't mean I didn't stop thinking about some truly amazing posts...I just didn't want to share with you.
The quickest way to get the world (ie Guam) up to speed on things is using the random tidbit method.
Duran Duran
I saw them, all 5 original members, in concert in early July. It was a great show...until the fat jerks behind me stole my t-shirt. Thinking ahead and wanting to avoid the post-show rush, Righty, OL and I all bought the required concert shirt. Righty stuffed hers in the crevice of her seat. OL wore his on his shoulder all night. I, however, rotated between having it in my lap and on top of my seat. When sitting, it was in my lap for safe keeping. While standing, I placed it on my seat, constantly checking on its status by looking over my shoulder. My $40 shirt was mine until the very last song. It is at this point when I decided no one would dare take my shirt.
After the last song I turn around to grab my shirt as we're leaving and it's gone. The only possible suspects were the fat jerks sitting behind me, who were already gone. OL scanned the exiting group in hopes of catching them, but with the mass exit, they had already blended into the crowd. Well, shit. After keeping a vigil over the shirt for three hours and to have it stolen with the last five minutes of the show was disgusting.
Figuring that I would regret not buying another shirt, I ponied up another $40 for another shirt. I am now the proud owner of an $80 concert t-shirt.
Manga
In preparation for a trip to New Orleans on the moto, I made a trip to the Honda store for much needed supplies. I made a fatal mistake and walked the showroom floor where I spotted the blue beauty. After sitting on it, I pretty much decided to buy it. I went back to the showroom three more times in as many days to negotiate with old man Gonzales. He's about 175 and gets around in a 3 wheeled scooter. I'm convince the old man is crazy because he gave me such a good deal on my trade in. I bought it 4 years ago, from his store, for $4,000 and he gave me $3,000 on trade in. So I got to ride around on a moto for 4 years for about $1,000 bucks.
Anyway, five days after seeing the Magna I rode it home. I'm surprise by my own impulsiveness because two months ago I was selling the older moto. Somehow the purchase of my new motorcycle correlates with the weather because it's rain every single day since I bought it. So I haven't really ridden a lot lately, just some in town riding.
Karate
Yesterday was my test for a third stripe on my red belt. for the most part, it was a routine test, until my instructor announce all the red belts failed the test. Apparently the entire group, all eight of us, didn't know our self-defense hold well enough. I disagree with him about this. I know all my stuff. Now maybe I didn't look effective, but I know the moves. In fact, I know them better this time than I did 6 months ago. So if you fail me today, on moves I've practiced for six more months than the last test, then shouldn't I have been failed on the last test? I couldn't have gotten worse with the moves, just better. Needless to say, I was pissed off. So were the other two adult red belts testing with me. I've got lots of reason to call bullshit on this, but I don't make the decisions. If he says I failed, well then, I failed.
Anyway I'll just be one of the many who has failed and had to retake a test. I'm not the first and I certainly won't be the last. So to make good, the entire red belt testing group has to show up next Saturday for a re-test. If I still don't pass, the only thing it effects is my black belt testing timeline. It won't be in Mexico next August; it will be in Baton Rouge late October or November.
The last part of our test included a three station break, which means break three separate boards at three different stations using three different techniques. Except my instructor decided we need to break two board per station. It seem, according to him, he was breaking cinder blocks at our rank, so we could handle two boards. I'm not sure of his reasoning on this because I've never seen another group of red belts perform a two-board three station break. Did he have us do this because he was disappointed in us or because he expects great things from us? Anyway turns out breaking two boards wasn't much harder than breaking one.
Oh and just in case you were wondering, I'm still a young, waif.
ramblings by Whitey on 10:39 PM112293009800900465 Whatcha talkin' bout?
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01 August
Stuff With Crackers - Part One
It started with an idea. Let's eat lunch in Prentis, Mississippi. I didn't say it was my idea. But wait, there's more. Let's ride our motorcycles to Country Fisherman in Prentis for lunch. Do you know where Prentis is? I believe the town is a blip on the Mississippi map known only for this one buffet restaurant.
The riding gang consisted of OL and Speed Demon. Notice the use of the word gang. We've deemed ourselves a gang. Still working on a name, but Righty has christened us GOTS -Gang of Three. Like I said, we're still working on a name. I'm pleased we've moved up to gang status because a motorcycle pair doesn't strike fear in anyone. Ooooh look out for that pair of riders, they're menacing!
In order to make the 11:30am lunch call, we needed to leave around 7:15am to meet Old Man and Old Woman in Covington at 8:30am. From there we would caravan to MS. You might remember them from such adventures as The Best Sandwiches in the World and Gravel Driveway of Death.
Right about now you might be thinking, you got up at 6:30am for lunch? Yes, I might be crazy. So is this whole damn idea. According to the geniuses at MapQuest, Prentis is 150 miles away, with a ride time of 2hrs and 32 minutes - via car. Who rides 150 miles for lunch? Crazy folk do, that's who.
I don't make the schedule departure time, but our defacto leader, Speedy, doesn't seem upset. In fact, even though we're running a bit behind, ahem -10 minutes, she stops to check tire pressure and add oil to her bike. So now we're about 20 minutes late, which I think is no big deal. I'm not in a hurry. Hell, we can't eat lunch at 9:30am anyway.
The quickest and most efficient way to Covington is via the Interstate. Before departing, I suggest a speed limit for our ride. You might be thinking right about now, a speed limit? Doesn't the government decide on an appropriate limit? Yes, but Speedy views that a suggestion, not a law. My limit, via Interstate, on the two wheeled death machine is 70mph. This seems reasonable to me. Right?
Things quickly go to crap once we hit the Interstate. For most of the ride I'm pushing 75-80 mph to keep up with Speedy. Seventy-five in a car is no big deal for me, but riding a moto at that speed is another beast. While trying to calm my nerves at this speed, my helmet keeps riding up. Without a windshield, the wind is all over me. I also ride with a ¾ helmet, this leaves the bottom forth of my face exposed allow the wind to push the helmet up. Every two minutes or so I'd pull it down, then it would ride up again. OL and Speedy have no such issues, both having a windshield and full-face helmet.
So I've got this major helmet issue going on. Then my neck starts to ache. Have you seen the Jack In The Box antennae head? Know how it whips around on the antennae while driving? Picture my neck doing the same.
Because I'm managing the wind/helmet/neck game, I fall off the pace from the gang. OL slowed down several times so I could catch up, but eventually I'd fall back again. Luckily this Interstate ride was only about 45 minutes. Although I expressed my discontent to Speedy at her pace, she maintain her speed never got about 70mph. Hmph. She's a liar.
When we finally reach Old Man and Old Woman's place, we were 30 minutes late. OM felt the need to interrogate us about our timeliness with this one liner, "Which one of you sons a bitches can't get up on time?" I deflect the answer to the question by pointing out how much time Speedy spent checking her tire pressure and adding oil.
OM was our leader to Prentis via back roads. Riding a motorcycle is all about the back roads. Since we traveled via back roads, I assumed we've never peak past 55 mph. I was wrong. Because we were late, OM insisted on moving fast. After about an hour riding, we took a pit sconveniencenvienence store for a much needed stretch break. Some of us had been riding for 2 hours without a break and the body gets stiff. Because we were all good on gas, we pulled up to the front of the store and then managed a bush break. Because I was the last rider to pull up, I parked kinda cockeyed. My bike jutted out a bit hampering the flow of cars getting gas at the pump. But why do I care, I'm a badass biker. Right?
After returning from the bathroom, random dude filling up with gas lumbers to me and asks in his deep voice, "This your bike?" Crap. He's gonna kick my ass for parking all crazy like. Or wait, maybe he noticed something wrong with it. Prepared for the worst I answer yes and he replies with, "What kind of pipes are those?" Indeed. What kind of bad ass biker am I? I'm not.
We pulled into the Country Fisherman...early. In fact, we beat the entire other group of riders there. Speedy, it seems, is a Rumble Sister. She and her fellow sisters hatched this ride idea. Guys are allowed to join in the women's only ride, but their sole purpose is to serve as a Cabana Boy...and pay for things.
Within a couple of minutes, the Rumble Sisters and Cabana Boys pull up in all their biker glory. They look the biker part. They look bad ass. Leather. Tattoos. Do Rags. Beards (the men not the women, err...maybe some of the women). They look like an intimidating bunch...until you see this patch "Riding for Jesus" Or how about their leather vests which proudly display on the back "Christian Riders For Christ." I'm greeted with, "I hope you had a blessed ride here." How nice. Right?
Our little riding group of 5 has now morphed into a fleet of 25. One of the Rumble Sisters, apparently known for planning, had made arrangements for our large, rowdy, Jesus loving, biker group...then they sat us in a back corner, out of sight.
If you are ever in Prentis, Mississippi, eat lunch at the Country Fisherman. They got delicious instant mashed potatoes and soft rolls. The fried chicken, however, was on the small side. It ain't no Popeye's. OL, upon the urging of OW, gets a spoonful of Stuff With Crackers. Yes, the dish is called Stuff With Crackers. Could he tell me what the stuff was? No. Did he continue to eat it? Yes. I will not willing eat and/or pay for a dish made with stuff - just give me the crackers.
After lunch, the Rumble Sisters wanted a group photo. And by group photo I mean only the actual members of the clan. Yes, I said clan. I didn't make this up, that's what they call their chapters/groups/organizations/clubs - look how many other words you can use instead of clan. Anyway, one of the Cabana Boys was instructed to take the photo. Ready, aim, "On three everybody say 'Jesus Saves'." I'm not kidding, he said this. Time to go.
ramblings by Whitey on 10:27 PM112295480988556003 Whatcha talkin' bout?
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02 August
Stuff With Crackers - Part Two
OM decided we needed a challenge on the way back, so he took us to Red Bluff Canyon. Who knew Mississippi had canyons? Before the ride, OM gave us a lecture about the curvy-ass road we'd take there. He continued to repeat, 'ride yur own ride.' For the biker neophytes, this means ride how you feel comfortable. Don't take the curves at any speed your not comfortable with. Ride yur own ride. Right.
I'm willing to admit his talk about this road scared me. Plus OW kept jawing about taking the curves at 20mph. Ack! What have I gotten myself into? Turns out nothing much. My imagination pictured something much worse. We finally make our way to Red Bluff and there was a gianormous sign indicating the road was closed. You think something as trivial as a road closure will stop us, no way. OM leads the charge past the barricades, thru the grass, thru the dirt and between the steel posts. At this point, I've already broken so many laws, which I conveniently left out of this recap, I decide to go for it. Peer pressure is a bitch.
The Red Bluff cliff looks much like a mini Grand Canyon. Or maybe what the Grand Canyon looked like when it first started to form. The sides of the road continued to erode away so it was closed. It's not the typical nature site found in Southern Mississippi.
Afterward we needed to talk about heading home. I voted for taking back roads home instead of the Interstate. Speedy and OL agree with my thoughts. OM planned our ride back for us using a smaller 2 lane highway which would lead us home without hitting the Interstate. Then OM lead us onto Highway 10 - Road From Hell.
The plan was to ride as a group until OM & OW had to break off. Once we hit Hwy 10, OM stayed steady on the gas, never relenting - even when I fell way, way back. Again, I was the last rider in the group. My bike certainly has the power to catch the disappearing group, but I'm not interested in being road kill, so I "rode my own ride." Twenty minutes into our journey back, the rain starts. Riding in the rain is miserable. In addition to being cold & wet, the rain stings as it hits and my face shield continued to collect water. Imagine driving without wipers, then when you can't see at all, wiping with you hand. The bulk of the water has been smeared, clearing your vision slightly, then it clouds up again with droplets.
It's not secret I like to bitch about things...ok I like to bitch about everything, it makes me feel better. So instead of bitching in my head about OM and his speediness, I'm now bitching about the rain. But that quickly turns into bitching about OM and his speediness again. The rain didn't slow him down. However, since OL was in front of me and he couldn't see either, we weathered the storm together. Ha! Pun intended.
The shower only lasted about 10 minutes, but it was enough to get me drenched. The sun came out again and I was still bitching about OM. This rain/no rain pattern continued for about the next hour. Just when I was finally dry, or mostly dry, the rain would start again. My only solace during this ride is the clear skies ahead. I knew we'd find the sun again and it wouldn't rain on us the entire way home.
OM & OW depart from us and Speedy is now leading the charge home via Hwy 10. Prior to departing, OW mentioned some very minor road construction on this route, but was positive the work was completed. She was wrong...very wrong. My heart dropped when I saw the road construction sign. The road was being prepped for pavement and had recently been grated - only a tiny bit of grooved asphalt remained. Our travel speed dropped to 20mph. Having your tires wobble underneath you is a damn scary feeling. We tried to pick the best path thru the groves, dirt and potholes. And just when I didn't think the road could get any worse a new sign appears, "Danger, Loose Gravel." Danger?
You might recall from other recaps that gravel of any sort, loose or otherwise, is a biker's nightmare. Any sudden movements, stops, turns, accelerations, cause the back tire to jump out from underneath you and down it goes. Gravel is not good. I expected the entire road to be piled with gravel for the rest of the ride, but it was only in small patches about 15 feet long. For the next 10 miles the road consisted of groves then gravel, groves then gravel. After carefully navigating this section at speeds of 10mph, we made it back to black top, then the rain started again.
I'm pretty damn miserable at this point and the sun has been replaced with steam and mist. The ride just continues to get worse. And right about then, we get stopped by a train. This is where I had a breakdown; I started laughing uncontrollably. In fact, I laughed so hard I started to cry. I mean, what the hell can you do at this point? We're miles from home and the only way to get there is to keep riding. We make an unanimous decision to take the Interstate home.
According to the signs we were at least an hour away from home, but hey, we're on a paved road without gravel, life is good. Right?
We did a pretty fast clip again at 75mph, however this time I cinched my helmet down so tight, my blood flow was restricted. The neck pain came back again, but I decided the pain was better than Hwy 10. We rode safely and rain free for about 30 minutes. However when we took the I-12 loop around and then we saw it, The Black Cloud. There was no sun. No light. Only a sky filled with an ominous cloud hanging over our route home.
We made another stop for gas, this would make the fifth one of the day. Although I was probably the only one who needed gas, because my bike is a Buick - it rides nice but it guzzles gas, we all needed to stretch. Some local yahoo commented on how we picked a crappy day to be out riding. Oh really, thank for the tip. BTW, there was only 20% chance of rain when we left.
Speedy offers me a rain jacket or her blue jean jacket. I decline because I'm already wet, what difference would it make now. I am a fool! Here me, a fool for not taking the jacket.
The sign indicates only 24 miles until we're home. Twenty-four miles is nothing. So that's about 20 minutes of riding. No. Big. Deal. I was wrong again. We hit the rain at 4 miles into our ride. This wasn't like the rain before, this was a storm. Our speed drops to 60ish. Personally this is way to fast on a motorcycle in the pouring rain with no visibility, but we're easier to spot as a group, so I stick to OL's tail. I wouldn't want to fall back now. We GOTS to stay together.
Every other concern or thought I had about the ride was gone. All I could do was concentrate on the bike in front of me. Every minute or so I'd have to wipe the face shield in hopes of increasing my very poor sight line. After about 10 minutes of this, Speedy pulls over underneath an overpass. With everything I had done on the ride, this was the most dangerous by far. There was only 4 feet of pavement separating us and the oncoming traffic. The speeding cars don't care that your only inches from the lane.
I figured we were going to wait the storm out, but Speedy busted out her jean jacket and gave me the rain jacket. She couldn't take it anymore. You don't know her, but the rain causing her to pull over and put on another layer of clothing screamed how bad the ride was. OL was excluded from the gift giving. Speedy had no more jackets to give.
I take a quick opportunity to wipe my face shield, outside and in, with a paper towel I had been carrying around. I figure this would temporarily help my vision out. I was wrong...yet again. So now we've got to merge with oncoming traffic from a dead stop. Is this freaking anyone else out yet? Ever tried doing that in a car? In a car, in the rain? It's nearly impossible. But we get lucky and the traffic breaks, so we all gun it. Except when I pop my face shield down, I can't see out of it. The paper towel smeared the water, road grit and fog into a mess. Meanwhile OL and Speedy have accelerated out of sight while I could barely get above 40mph.
After enough water had accumulated on the shield again, I could see better. But by now, I've been passed by every vehicle on the road and can't find OL and Speedy. It's bad enough riding a motorcycle, where no one can see you, but now I don't even have the safety of a group. I can barely see, I'm only doing about 50mph because of the road conditions, so now I've created my own road hazard. My only focus was on the road ahead. I didn't check mirrors or the lane beside me, I just kept looking ahead. I kept telling myself it was only a 20 minute ride, just like riding home from work in the rain. Ok, so that didn't really work, but there's nothing I could do at this point - stopping was not an option.
I'm sure OL was freaking out at this point, because I would have been if the situation was reversed. They had no way of knowing if I was ok. I could have crashed or been hit. What if I pulled off the road with a bike repair issue. And I was worried they'd stop again to wait for me. I certainly didn't want them to risk pulling over again because the first time was a nightmare.
Fifteen minutes later, the rain slows to a drizzle and the sky clears a bit. Then way ahead I see to lone riders in the lane ahead. Traffic clears, they slow down, I speed up and we make the last 2 miles of our journey together.
When I finally got home, I was an ice brick. I took a hot bath, put on some sweat pants and had a cup of hot chocolate. It's 85 degrees outside and I'm sipping on a hot drink.
After telling this story to one of my friends, she looks at me and says, "And you do this for fun?"
ramblings by Whitey on 12:53 PM112295492176551920 Whatcha talkin' bout?
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03 August
Science does not lie
Screw with the whammy and it will screw you.
Feel free to quote me on that. I've given a lot of thought to the recent failed Red Belt test and concluded the whammy gods were not happy with me for jacking with the system.
As a any sports fan will tell you, a dedicated fan can and will affect the outcome of a game. This is a silly concept only to those who don't understand the power of a whammy, a jinx or a good luck charm. But the whammy can control more than the outcome of a game, it can determine the outcome of life. I hear your scoff...so do the whammy gods.
I've conducted scientific research to prove the whammy exists. Take a gander at this: Scientific Whammy Research You can not deny the power of scientific research - it's science and it does not lie.
So the big question right now is, why did the whammy lay the smack down on me? In short, I didn't follow the ritual, the pre-testing ritual. For the past 3 years and 10 tests I have religiously repeated the events which lead me to pass my first karate test. However, I varied this routine last week. I didn't just vary a bit, I basically ignored it.
Here's what should have a happened:
Two weeks before test, paint toenails purple
Night before test, wash and iron original uniform
Iron original testing white tee
Morning of, skip breakfast and coffee
Take advil
Review terminology
Here's what I did:
Painted toenails purple a week before test
Washed original uniform - neglected to iron it
Decided the original testing tee had too many holes to wear - wore a replacement shirt
Had coffee and breakfast the morning of
I did take Advil and reviewed terminology
Do you see my ignorance? Thing is I didn't give breaking the ritual a second thought. In fact I didn't even correlate the testing failure and the whammy until two days after the test. So I didn't "sabotage" my testing with a self fulfilling prophecy.
How does reverse the fortune of the whammy?
ramblings by Whitey on 11:42 PM112317652856611173 Whatcha talkin' bout?
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07 August
DC Trip - Day 1
Thus begins my annual pilgrimage to DC for a work conference. Some folks have fun while on work trips, not me. Ok, maybe a bit of fun, but not much. This will be my fourth trip since working for the program and it's my third time to DC. Loyal readers will recall there was no free time on trips which means I spend 90% of my time in the hotel. Spending that much time in a hotel is not good for your soul and yes, I do have a soul.
I wasn't allowed to book my flight earlier, don't ask, so I ended up on a late flight leaving around 4pm and arriving about 10pm. The later flight actually gave me time to take of Fritter issues and take my time packing. I enjoy over packing. I like to have clothing options. I pre-plan my business attire for each day, but I like freedom in my dinner clothes - so I bring several extra shirts and/or jeans. I find the joy where I can and packing dinner clothes gives me joy. Sigh.
Since I could easily become OCD where bathing is concerned, I like to bring extra panties. And by extra panties I mean at least two pair a day. Might seem excessive, but if I'm bathing once in the morning, then again in the evening...see what I mean. Anyway you never can have too many pairs of panties.
When I make it to the airport, the ticket agent informs me one of the flights has been cancelled, so they've booked me on another airline. My arrival time has been pushed back by an hour and a half plus there's no time between flights to eat dinner. Great. I get cranky without food.
Later on, while making my way thru security I get selected for extra security. Lucky me. I don't have a problem with the security procedures, but some of it goes overboard. After removing my belt, shoes, watch and emptying my pockets, I sit in the designated area while a wand is moved around my feet. Then I'm made to stand up, feet must be on the colored foot prints, hands up. Yes your hands must be up; they yell at you if your hands are face down. They yelled at me twice. Then they wave the wand over the rest of you. The wand is so sensitive it beeped while passing over the underwire in my bar and the aluminum rivets in my jeans. Is it necessary to detect jean rivets? Litch, my traveling companion, who also got selected for extra security said the wand picked up a piece of aluminum foil in his pocket. WTF?
Next I was allowed to get dressed while the TSA agent, rifled thru my carry on bag. Afterwards she checked the bag, my laptop and my shoes for explosives using a pair of foreceps and gauze. Then a fancy machine determines if any of my belongings have been in contact with explosives. No explosive exposure for me.
While waiting for the plane, I saw Elton John in a pair of khaki shorts. Litch maintains this was not EJ nor did the man look anything like him. I maintain Litch was wrong.
Our departing plane was late by thirty minutes, so we had to scramble to make our connecting flight. We had a quick panic moment when the ticket agent handed us another set of tickets to Newark in case we missed our flight. Newark? We're trying to get to DC. But what our luggage? If we make the flight, but our luggage doesn't, where does our luggage go? What about my panties? Extra panties!
We made the DC flight and so did our luggage but there was no dinner in my empty stomach. After a $20 cab ride to the fancy hotel J.W. Marriott and check in, we went to eat dinner at a nasty little bar two blocks away called Harry's. This was the only place open in downtown DC on a Sunday evening at midnight. Was the food good? No. Was the service good? No. Am I'm I grateful one place was open for food. Maybe. I think my tongue might have tasted better than the burger.
ramblings by Whitey on 11:59 PM112413433531854451 Whatcha talkin' bout?
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08 August
DC Trip - Day 2
Three hours of sleep makes me grumpy. After returning from the nasty bar around 1am, I tossed in the bed for at least an hour. I had to get up at 6am today, which is really 5am because my body is still on Central time. If getting up at that awful hour isn't bad enough, I was forced to associated with people less than an hour later. I'm not a morning person and I hate people - you do the math.
I, along with Litch and Lush, were working the registration table the conference. I was forced to read and be polite before coffee. Why do conference planners insist on having early registration? If I ruled the world, registration would begin at 10am or later. Early birds ruin the world. Did I mention three hours of sleep and no coffee?
So for the next 11 hours, we stood behind a table, gave out name tags and books. Put me behind a computer for 11 hours and I'm fine, but the combination of standing and being polite is just too much to ask of anyone.
I feel it' s important to mention the DC water - I can't stand the way it tastes, but my hair looked great. In fact, best hair day ever. Ever.
We met in the lobby before heading out to dinner. While waiting for the group to arrive, an irate man approached me concerning registration. He asked if I was one of the registration girls. Girl?
I haven't been a girl since I was 10. He was upset because registration was supposed to be open until 7pm and he flew all the way in from Philly to register early. It was pointless to explain that a) I wasn't a girl b) I didn't set the times for registration and c) he was a prick. He didn't even care that registration opened again at 6:30am and it would only take 30 seconds to get his name badge and book. See even the pricks don't like the early morning registration. Planners of the world take note.
We walked to Gordon Birsch for dinner and beer. Except I was so tired, I had a Sprite. I wanted bottled water. Yes, it's a sad, sad day. I remember we went there last year for dinner and beer and it was delicious, but this year just sucked. I just wanted to eat then go to sleep, but then the rain started. I stared out the window waiting for the rain to end just so I could go. The rain slowed to a drizzle and I walked back to the hotel.
Although I made it back to the hotel, I still had to check work e-mail. This tiny task took two hours because some jerk sent me 10 power point presentations over the weekend and I was on dialup. Have I mentioned I hate people and the DC water?
So for two days I've been cranky, grumpy, tired and called a girl. This is shaping up to be a great trip...but my hair looked awesome.
ramblings by Whitey on 11:42 PM112413882637592852 Whatcha talkin' bout?
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09 August
DC Trip - Day 3
I've got the red in my right eye. I always seem to have bloodshot eyes while traveling, so I keep a bottle of Visine with me at all times. But there's something strange about the right half of my right eye. This Visine will not get the red out. It looks like something smacked me in the eye and now people are starting to notice.
Hey, something's wrong with you eye.
What's going on with your eye?
Did you know your eye was bloodshot?
People are so very helpful.
Getting up at 5:30am every day is ridiculous. The human body was not meant to be up before 7am. I'm using a dual alarm system to ensure waking at the proper time. First is the hotel alarm clock followed by the cell alarm 15 minutes later. Unlike those damn early morning risers, I can't leap out of bed and start moving. I need to work my way out of the bed in 15 minute increments.
I spent another lovely day working the registration table. After spending 10 hours doing that little job, I took a quick nap before dinner. Although I could have slept longer, I didn't want to miss dinner. Our regular dinner group hit the Old Ebbitt Grill. I remember eating at this place last year and it was so yummy, but not so much this year. I wanted a steak, but with a dinner allotment of only $22, steak was not an option. So I opted for the Virginia Trout lightly fried in a Parmesan crust. The trout was tasty enough, but fighting with teeny, tiny little bones blows. Steak does not have teeny, tiny little bones. You don't accidentally bite into or swallow a giantic steak bone. This is why people eat steak instead of fish.
After dinner, we made our way to Harry's again, for drinks. As nasty as Harry's is, it's only 2 blocks from the hotel. I tried to get everyone to visit the hotel bar instead, but was overruled by Lush and her desire for free drinks. Lush had a thing with one of the bartenders so we got drinks half price. After one drink Litch and I ditched Lush as she made the moves her new crush.
Since I'm living like a wild child this week, I purchased a bottled water from the mini-bar at a cost of $3.18.
ramblings by Whitey on 10:55 PM112438054446946260 Whatcha talkin' bout?
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