Thursday, December 29, 2005

Double Dawg Dare

Unlike licking a cold metal pole in the middle of winter, writing about "women who don't answer previous emails" is fairly easy challenge. You see my second job has all but sharpened my people skills (oh baby I got skills) and I know that in order to keep conversation a flow you must avoid certain topics while focusing on others. It is often referred to the "distraction method" in parenting, and wouldn't you know it works on most men too.

I say most because every so often I come across a guy in conversation that tries to outwit the hare, and therefore creates a maze of interaction. Playing ping pong while blindfolded, if you will. It can be fun and exciting but what happens when you get a plastic ball in the forehead? Things to consider, I say.

Last night I spent the good portion of my evening talking to two pilots for a major airline company. They were of course in the bar looking for female interaction, and we started to discuss the entire dance of the mating dance in the 21st century. What makes a good relationship, what makes just a good physical connection and why even bother?

You would be surprised at the one finding I came upon. I said that I had heard on a radio talk show that basically men have to needs: food and sex. If you are to satisfy those two needs then all else falls into place. In conversation with the "other side" they said that in fact that probably is a very good way to look at it in the most simplified terms. We of course expanded to say that sex must be because of "want and desire" and not a chore, and that food comes "nurture and caring" for your mate.

So then I say .... in an email, are we getting food or sex?

Wednesday, December 28, 2005

Mom Was Right

Taking your vitamins really IS good advice. A recent British article published that research done by a US team found that a daily dose of 25 mg of Vitamin D can prevent more than 25 chronic diseases.

The most alarming fact about this whole article is that it is published in a UK online periodical and yet the research was done in the US. Why is it that this isn't all over the front page of our local news? I checked MSN - nothing. CNN - nothing. Even FoxNews didn't report it.

Can you imagine stopping more than 25 different cancers simply by upping your dose of vitamin D? All the lives that have been lost to cancer for nothing.

I guess maybe this hits close to home as I have lost two people in which I dearly love to cancer way before their time. It was a painful death to watch, something that changed my life forever. I would like to see more information on this finding and see if on a larger case study it proves to be accurate.

Anyways I guess it is back to more important news such as Tori Spelling is now engaged. Yippee!

Tuesday, December 27, 2005

I Just Wanted To Say ...

Thank you!

Thank you for being so thoughtful
To find gifts that are exactly for me
What I needed and what I wanted
Personal and specialized

I can't explain how I feel
To be with someone who
Takes the time to really
Really understand who I am

A Gift

You are to me.

Tuesday, December 20, 2005

Gather round, this could get interesting ...

There is this great service that Google is testing called Google Analytics. It is one of the most impressive services to tell you any and all data concerning your website traffic and use. There are charts and graphs and all sorts of bells and whistles to give you that tingly feeling, trust me on this, it is good.

But here is the show-stopper ....

Are you ready?

I have READERS IN VERNAL UTAH!

If you are outside of Utah (yes the other 3 of you reading), you may not understand the full meaning of what I just spoke, so I will explain. You see I have actually been to the Unita Basin where there is this little community called Vernal. Try saying that out loud: vern-al. Yea, sounds appealing doesn't it? I believe this community is funded by the farming that takes place, and it appears at first glance to be like any farming community in the US, except one major thing, it is in Utah. We all know Utah would like to be annexed from the rest of the country, but can't, so they just operate as if they were. Yea, that and they like shredded carrots in lime jello.

So the folks I met in Vernal were either the worlds hardest partiers or the most moral, there was not any in between. Perhaps I should have spent more time getting to know the folk, but I thought for a city girl like myself to spend a weekend there was more than enough. THEY STILL MAKE AND DRINK MOONSHINE in Vernal. Have you ever smelled that stuff? I think it would make nose hair trimmers completely useless as it burns off anything within two inches of the fumes it emits. Someone take a close whiff and tell me if my theory works.

So there you are in Vernal, with nothing to do, and so you try this moonshine, which is a first cousin once removed from gasoline. There is nothing on the 5 channels of TV so what next?

I suppose this is where I get my 9 Vernal readers.

*Cheers* this cup of eggnog is for you.

Tuesday, December 13, 2005

Good Idea

Motif Monday - there is a topic and you write on it. Simple, yet brilliant.

This week's is "A Good Deed", and Hannihaus' blog got me thinking about the subject. The real biting part is this is during the holiday season which doing good deeds seem to be as standard as nasty fruit cake. Just by the fact that I compared fruit cake to good deeds should suggest something. I am not a good-doer and am really okay with the fact.

People might think this is sad, and give me all sorts of examples where I have been not nasty to someone therefore defaulting to being "nice". That can make you feel decent if said with enough sincerity to believe it. I do not need that.

I think people who do good deeds are people that rescue children from third world orphanages, or build houses for a homeless man who is a known drunk, or give up their worldly goods and go dig ditches to bring water to a drought community. Those are good deeds.

I don't.

I am okay with mediocrity and just simply surviving the day to day life task ahead of me. Perhaps someday I might have the desire to really go out into this world and do good deeds, and maybe I will change someone's life forever.

Till then I will not make chili out of my dog for puking all over the floor and then not cleaning it up. I won't sell my child on the black market because they might be the only ones who can take her attitude. I promise not to drive insanely fast into the back end of the jackass who almost caused me a roll over on I-15 at 70 mph. I won't even yell at the kid who rams his Mom's shopping cart into the back of my heels while he is learning to drive. This one, just because it is the season, is that I promise to say at least one nice thing about my ex this month when he doesn't pay me the money he owes for our child care.

Cheers

Friday, December 09, 2005

New Orleans and Time

There's not a working clock in this entire city. This morning I went on my walk and the big clock by St. Patrick's Church on Camp said it was 2:30, as I walked on the Whitney clock said it was 11:15 and by the time I hit the French Quarter a clock there told me quite firmly that it was 6:00 o'clock.

I'm not really surprised at this' New Orleans has always had a problem with time. Time is not linear here. This is a city where people live in two-hundred-year old houses, have wireless Internet and use 600-year-old recipes while singing 60's songs to their newborns. Time is more of a mental game in New Orleans, you can pick the year you liked the best and stay in that year for the rest of your life here and no one says a thing. You can talk about your great-great-grandparents as if they were still alive and talk about your neighbors as if they were dead, we all understand.

Time marches to its own drunk drummer here. This morning as I walked into the Quarter on Chartres, a woman ran out of a cafe to greet me, "Hey dahlin" she yelled as she hugged me, "Where ya been?" I looked at her and realized it was one of the exotic dancers from the smaller establishments on Chartres. Over the years I'd become friendly with several of the dancers as I would take my morning walk, we'd smile, wave, exchange pleasantries. This morning I realized that even though I had said hello to this woman three times a week for four years, I didn't know her name. I smiled, hugged her back and told her how badly I felt that I never knew her name and she laughed "Dahlin, you know my name, it's Baby!" Time to laugh out loud.

Twenty minutes later as I walked up Royal from Esplanade on my way out of the Quarter, a dark sedan stopped in the street right by the Cathedral and all four doors opened at once. I was twittering with curiosity when the driver hopped out, ran to the other side and escorted a smiling Lindy Boggs out of the car. Before I could stop myself I'd yelled out, "Hey Lindy, good to see ya!" Mrs. Boggs, accustomed to such raffish behavior, smiled and yelled out "Hey yourself" as she waved, laughed and headed to church, surely thinking it's time to pray for better manners for the likes of me.

We're dealing with a lot of time issues these days, time to meet the insurance specialist, time to call FEMA, time to put out the refrigerator, time to get a new refrigerator, time to decide whether to stay in New Orleans or head elsewhere, time to register the kids for school, time to sell the house, time to buy the house, time to find a job, time to leave a job, time to figure out the rest of your life.

Could we maybe, while dealing with all those time issues, take a minute and remember? Remember that there was a time when all of this was different, there was a time when slaves were sold in Napoleon House, a time when Mid City was considered the country, a time when people staged sit ins downtown, a time when there was no McDonalds or Wendy's or even Popeye's, a time when the Quarter burned, a time when people spoke French or Spanish, a time when the Opera House was open, a time when this was all uninhabited, a time when your refrigerator worked, your house was whole, your neighborhood wasn't flooded and your city wasn't defined by a Hurricane.

More than any other city in this country, this is a city defined by the quality of the times people have had here. Maybe it's because it's a port city, maybe it's because of the food, maybe it's because of the heat, but this city remembers everyone who has ever lived, loved and laughed here. People visit us because they can feel the difference as soon as they get here, they can feel how time is honored here, in the time to craft our houses and the time to make a roux. They can feel that the city holds all of our memories, our joys, our sorrows and our triumphs. That any time spent in New Orleans is kept in the breath, air, water and sky of New Orleans. What happens in Vegas may stay in Vegas, but what happens in New Orleans changes the city and its people, minute by minute, day by day, year by year so that we can't help but live in the past, present and future.

Time will tell what we will end up looking like, how strong the levees will be, how many houses will be repaired, but we will tell time how strong the people of New Orleans are, how deep our commitments to each other are and that sometimes the best stories are the ones we write for ourselves.

Once upon a time in a city called New Orleans...

written by Boysie Bollinger

Thursday, December 01, 2005

Stories From A Utah Cocktail Waitress

Yes, it is true, I have a second job as a cocktail waitress, or the more PC term "server". I guess that is probably because the word cocktail will surely send me to hell here in Utah. One must not speak of anything that reminds people that there is in fact something sexual about the word cocktail and especially if you say it slowly in two separate words.

So being the sassy type it is amazing that I am able to make any dollars serving as I think it is a basic requirement to like people. It isn't that I don't like people, it is really that deep down inside I long to be an actress and what better practice than pretending to really enjoy drunk patrons trying to get their groove on? Nothing, I tell ya, no acting school can provide that kind of real life practice.

Case in point, last night the most interesting couple came into the bar, the Sky Bar to be exact. I know, I know, you are screaming in your head, 'don't tell the internet where you work, there are CREEPS out there that might find you'. Trust me on this, after working in a bar in a slinky little number having all sorts of oddities think they are your number one man, the internet creeps do NOT make me nervous, they just better tip well!

Back at the ranch, I was working this hot Wednesday night in the bar and it was disco night - oh yes the crowd cheers. Into the bar walks Mr. Mafia and his lady. This couple would prove to be my entire night's entertainment. I kept wanting to call him "Joey" and he kept calling me "Dollface" which I think will be my new mob name, "Dollface Server Girl", yes people will shake just upon hearing that name. So "Joey" wanted his woman to eat something, but she informed me that "she was on her period and just can't eat". I nodded like this made some sort of perfect sense. Joey however didn't get the memo, and tried ordering anything pricey for her from the menu. After she refused all fifty menu items she settled on some pasta. Yes, perfect sense.

Joey on the other hand just wanted to drink, and Crown was the shot of choice. Yes, he and the DJ needed to drink. Now I am unsure how this came out sounding but I had to keep telling the DJ, "here is another drink for you bought by the gentleman in the ... well ... the one over there". I couldn't tell him, "Mr. Buttafooko wants you to drink this sonny", it just wasn't possible without breaking character.

I also play a therapist as well here at the bar. I had to console this youngin' from Georgia who had been stood up by a girl he had asked out from his work. We talked about how he will pick up and go on, how this girl has missed out, and all sorts of other ego stroking phrases. Yes, he tipped well.

At the nights end I had made my dollars, cleaned up the mess and made it home without being pulled over by one of the five policeman that escorted me home. The streets of Salt Lake City are safe again.

Till next time ...