T-to-the-A

Posts Tagged ‘travel’

My Cat has Dandruff

In The Daily Drool on May 9, 2010 at 5:31 pm

Look, it’s Sunday, I just spent the weekend in Phoenix drinking margaritas in toast to my AMAZING mother, sitting by the pool, and eating tons of delicious food.  My brain is operating accordingly, so I’ll speak in bullet points… Ready?

  • It’s a good thing my parents don’t have a pool.  I’d be a burnt out piece of leather by the end of the summer and not a hint of paycheck or written material to show for it.  Just brown skin, BLONDE blonde hair, and a pickled liver.  Because you can’t sit by the pool all summer without margarits.  Lots and lots of margaritas.  Although, strictly between you and me?  If I find a good deal on a kiddie pool, I’m hauling it home…
  • Census-Porn is apparently a big search item on the interweb.  I’m not joking, I got a lot of hits on that one.  Let me just tell you though, it doesn’t pay to make-out in Census training.  Literally.  They got fired.  I guess maybe all you really do need is Love…  Or lust.  Or someone to let you stick your tongue in their mouth without any sense of discretion.
  • Speaking of the Census, it’s official – I’m official – we’re all friggin’ official!  Tomorrow I start knockin’… and counting… and paying bills!!!
  • A friend of mine used to be an apartment manager.  He recommended I don’t cash the mal-nourished security deposit check staring up at me from its envelope.  I’m tired, my bills are due, and I ain’t got any dough because these assholes are trying to rip me off.  But I sold my fridge.  Seriously, if you told me at graduation that two years later I’d be at the place where I was so broke I’d be thanking the Gods for helping me sell off my stuff in order to pay for my cell phone, I’d… well, I’d probably have cried and gone clamoring back to UCLA, begging to be let back in.  But here I am, comfortably nestled into my parent’s loving home, so at least there are no end to the tissue boxes and snacks to soothe my woes.
  • My cat has dandruff.  It’s BAD.  And she’s black.  Any tips?  Please?
  • Happy Mother’s Day to all you mothers out there.  It’s a wicked world, and you keep us safe, help us grow, and love us even at our worst.  I wouldn’t be anywhere near the sane (semi-sane?) creative and bold person I consider myself to be, if it weren’t for my amazing, loving, strong and beautiful mother.  She is my inspiration and role model, and I can’t thank her enough.

Now, I think it’s time for a little vacation recovery nap…

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Apparently my Good Sense of Humor Beats out any Sense of Pride

In Essays, The Daily Drool on April 28, 2010 at 11:18 pm

I don’t remember the last time I peed in the bush… I remember being told stories of how my grandfather would refuse to stop the car when on road trips, making my grandma pee in cups or whatever was on hand.  I don’t know how she did it, or why she didn’t then club him over the head with her newly warmed bottles of piss – that’s what I would have done – but these stories have always horrified me.  Which is not to say I haven’t had my share of camping or hiking tinkles… I’ve even had a drunk “But I gotta go NOW” moment on the Sunset Strip ( did I just admit that?!)  But I haven’t had to “make water” in the outdoors for YEARS, years, years…

Which is why, as I departed Prescott on my way to LA, I was flabbergasted at the bad-bladder-cocktail my inept sense of self, dismal planning, and now-empty travel mug, had created.

I was going to have to pull over.

My first thought was “Hell no, I ain’t puling over!  You see all that desert out there?  What is someone, some pervert, has a little crow’s nest all set up near the yucca…  just waiting for this kind of highway panic?  He whips out a rifle and picks me off… he films me and posts it on youtube… he laughs.  (Aparently in my mind, all highway pervert you-tubers are male)

Anyway, no amount of nay-saying by my brain was going to get my bladder to shut the hell up.

So I stopped.

I pulled over…

I opened both passenger-side doors so I could create a little three-sided Not-A-Potty for myself and just prayed that my overactive imagination was wrong, and that there wouldn’t be any glinting on the horizon from rifle sights, video cameras, or grody old man sunglasses.

And then I peed.

For about  FIVE whole minutes… or two.  I don’t know, it felt like FOREVER.   I mean, just WHAT the HELL did I drink this morning?  I don’t remember guzzling a gallon of anything… yet there it was, erupting (sorry, but it was) from my bladder with the most indelicate kind of joy…  “FREEEEEEEE AT LAST!!!!!”

I’m sitting there squatting there thinking “Please, don’t splash.  Don’t splash. PleasePleasePRETTYPRETTYplease, Don’t splash!”  while my legs are gasping “Hey, lady, maybe you should take us the gym a little, huh?  Too much time at the computer is making for a painful perch.” and my bladder, my happy relieved bladder, could care less about any of the bodily/neurotic conversing happening around it.

The wind whistled beneath my bum, cars flew past with nary a hint of stopping to see if I needed help (Oh, my GOD, can you imagine?!  Horror!) and I was ready to dry off the used parts and get back in the car, when it struck me curious… what does one do with their non-toilet-paper when one is peeing by the side of the road?  I mean, my GOD, I’m not a pooch.  I don’t carry baggies…

All this as I’m struggling to hike up my pants and crawl back into the car without standing upright and giving the cacti a flash of my fanny.

So I did the only thing I could think to do… I left the tissue there:  From tree-pulp you came, which is of the Earth, so… ummm, to Earth you shall return.

And as I pulled back onto Highway 89, happy to have avoided wetting my pants but embarrassed to be 30 years old and not have the foresight to have stopped at the gas station 80 miles back, I took a gander in the rearview mirror.

There was the evidence of my visit- dancing across the road, carried off by the wind.

You’re damned if you do…

In Essays, The Daily Drool on April 24, 2010 at 10:24 am

Alright, time for another Volcano post… because now the blame game begins.

Look, I’m all about pro-active discussion “What did we do right?  What could we have done better?”  But inevitably, whenever a disaster strikes, what happens is that everyone starts blaming everyone else and nothing productive comes of it.

In this AP article:

Virgin Atlantic founder Richard Branson (A true capitalist) has labeled as unnecessary the Europe-wide ban on flights prompted by concerns the volcanic ash could cause problems with airliner engines.

“A blanket ban of the whole of Europe was not the right decision,” Branson said. “Planes have to put up with sandstorms in Africa, the engines are designed to put up with a lot more than existed.”

I imagine, had they NOT instituted a Europe-wide band and had there been any problems, Mr. Branson would still be pointing those angry fingers but with very different words.

Because people are the masters of “Blame”-  we love to shell it out and hate to have it shelled out upon us.

Think about it… when’s the last time you found yourself the guilty party?  Did you accept the blame or shirk it?  Try to justify it with some long-winded rationalization?  Do you ever find yourself issuing an “Well, I’m sorry, but-”

Why is it so hard to stand in front of a catastrophe and accept responsibility?

Why is equally difficult to stand before something terrible, something beyond human blame, and not have someone to burn at the stake?

Because we are obsessed with and terrified by power- the power we have, the power we want, and the power that eludes us.

The world will continue turning, that volcano will continue burning, and the airliners will try to wring as much money out of this as they possibly can.  The EU will stand behind their decision to close the skies (and they SHOULD), and weary travelers the world over will pay the price as the bickering and blaming goes on and on and on…

Things just keep getting crazier…

In The Daily Drool on April 19, 2010 at 10:36 am

Look, I want to talk about people – and how they kind of suck.

There’s a freakin’ volcano erupting in Iceland, and stranded passengers are protesting at airport counters. PROTESTING WHAT?

Sure, this is inconvenient, and expensive, and everyone needing to travel by air/working in the air travel industry in Europe is getting screwed.  But there’s nothing to be done about it, so just bend over and shut the hell up.

People get angry and feel the need to rant and rave over things.  They pile up their baggage and start throwing tantrums, because it makes them feel (for the moment anyway) that they are doing something.  “I’m upset!  Look at me be upset!  Adopt my upset and call it something else- call it, responsibility.  Let that fester and then hand me something out of guilt/annoyance/or just-for-some-peace-and-quiet,for-the-love-of-GOD… because that’s what I want.  I want YOU to soothe my upset, you volcano-creating air-travel evil mastermind!”

But people don’t like to surrender.  They don’t like to feel at the whim of any force.  And they hate, HATE, HATE to lose money.

So the airlines are asking for handouts because they can’t fly and they’re blaming the EU for not having some sort of contingency plan in place to make un-healthy skies flyable, and I’m sitting here thinking to myself “Gee, people are really dumb.  It’s a GODDAMNED VOLCANO, in ICELAND, and why is it the EU’s job to reimburse the airplane industry for that?  Why do ticket agents need to be assaulted by protesting travelers? ”

The answer is that people are selfish and globally ignorant- we pay attention to ourselves first and foremost and get angry when we can’t have our way.  We think of ourselves as highly evolved creatures, yet we are prone to the madness of mob-mentality at practically every turn, bludgeon each other to death over things like what name we should pray to, and proclaim promiscuity causes natural disasters.

People. Are. Stupid.

And the sooner we just own up to it, the sooner we stop carrying ourselves around this planet like demi-Gods, the better off we’ll all be.

When Mother Nature Steps In

In The Daily Drool on April 17, 2010 at 10:04 am

A lot of excitement has been bubbling in my imaginative mind over the implications of the Icelandic volcano, Eyjafjallajokull (ay-yah-FYAH’-plah-yer-kuh-duhl).  I’ve been reading about it all day long, totally transfixed.  But not until this article did I have anything to say beyond a massive “Wow!”

Basically, it’s an article about eeryone’s worries – worries about travel, worries about politics, about health, about “WHAT THIS MEANS!” for all of the minutia we humans orbit… and as I was reading it, I just found myself muttering (yes, muttering like a crazy person) “You can’t control this! So how about a little awe and respect”

I mean, here are masses of people at the mercy of a force waaaay beyond our influence – isn’t there a kind of beauty in being forced to press pause for a moment?  No guilty “Gee, I should really be doing x,y,z” because, guess what, A FRIGGIN VOLCANO HAS YOU GROUNDED!  How about enjoying the divine peace of being in the same boat of collective suspension…

All work and no play makes Atlas a grumpy Titan!

We spend so much time thinking that we have all this power, that we have so much under our control- when it’s really all just an illusion cooked up by the Ego.  All we really have control over are our decisions.  The actual outcomes of the choices we make and the behavior of others or of the planet… all of this is out of our hands.  Wouldn’t it be lovely to stop playing Atlas, and just carry what we can actually manage for a change?

But there are a whole host of people out there stamping their feet in frustration… frustration with the force of nature.

I don’t know about you, but that seems like a waste of time to me.

My friend Lara put it this way –

…a couple centuries ago, hundreds of ppl would have died, a god would have been named Eyjafjallajökull, bards would have sung songs, while children quivered at the thought. Have we really come that far? Do we really think we’re in control? Please; a little respect and awe at least!

Yes, the volcano bards, the glacier priests, dancing in the ice and ash… these are my people – those who are watching in awe and splendor.  People hearing the Earth roar with fiery, gaseous glory- You are infinitesimal by comparison !  All your piss and vinegar are but fists in the face of my hurricanes.  Write me a song!  Set down that pillar and dance.

Whatever you do, Don’t Touch the Mailbox!

In The Daily Drool on September 1, 2009 at 11:22 am

After a rough start – 1 hour delay due to explosive vomit in first class and then a leaky lavatory, we were finally off to Boston.  I had grumbled onto the plane, bent out of shape about the $20 surcharge my checked-bag incurred, and settled down between the two husky chaps bordering my seat, vowing that I would starve before I gave American Airlines anymore of my cold hard cash (or Visa’s for that matter)  but after the delay it became apparent that I was going to have to eat something besides the bag of lays and smuggled oreo’s pressed into my purse.

That $10 salad didn’t even come close to earning it’s keep- but it did keep the rumbling at bay.

Aside from the “To eat or not to eat” dilemma and my burly neighbors who (thankfully) surrendered the arm rests to my weary elbows, the flight went smoothly and I walked off and into the cool Boston night.  Kathleen and Mark are hosting me in their lovely home and put up the (rather cushy) air mattress in the living room- right next to some supreme looking toys.  After some good laughing and wine drinking it was time to bed.  Their last bit of advice before lights out was to avoid the singing mailbox.

Now, what?

It’s a plastic mailbox with a happy little bird perched atop its crest that sings about the mail.  “Let’s mail some leteeeeeeeeeeeeeeeers!”  in a chipper tune.  Something to stay away from at all costs, for a little sacharine postal praise is the last thing one wants to hear in the middle of the night.

And now it’s a beautiful autumn day in Boston and the air is cool ( a deilicious change from the LA fire-air I’ve been breathing the past week) and I’m relaxing into “Vacation.”  I’m so glad to be here and meeting my second cousins, on my way to DC in a couple days, and excited to meet everyone at the Kennedy Center.

But whatever you do, don’t touch the mailbox!