Private Stalker

It seems I have my own private stalker these days. Those of you who keep up with this blog will remember that I sometimes work Renaissance Faire. I can't remember whether I blogged about any of those adventures or not. In case I didn't, or to refresh your memory if I did, the final weekend of Northern Faire (mid-October) was interesting. Friday night I drove down to Casa de Fruta with BJ to meet up with PF. We did dinner at Casa de Food (like I could make up that name?!). While we were there PF introduced me to this guy Spanky (his faire name). Apparently he is in massage school and needs to practice on folks to get hours. She had gotten a massage from him and liked it so I figured what the hell? When we got back to our camp I went up to his camp for the massage.

He was pretty good. Certainly not the best massage I've ever had, but far from the worst. It was a lot better before his ego got out of control and he was touting his own work and how good it was, but such is life. At some point during the massage the girl who he was sharing a tent with wanted to go to sleep. The air mattress was in the same section of the tent as the massage table, but it was cool so she just laid down and went to sleep. After the massage Spanky and I were hanging out chatting outside the tent. He got my number for future massage. No worries. We went over to visit the horses used in the joust at which point he kissed me. I pointed out the fact that he had a girl in his tent to which he replied it was nothing serious. She had said the same thing earlier in the night. It'd been a while since I'd made out with anyone so I decided what the heck and we snogged for a bit. He tried to get me to share the tent with them, but I declined. Nice try buddy. I'm not here to fulfill your threesome fantasy.

We saw each other a bit the rest of the weekend, but I'd moved beyond my being horny stage so was over it. Figured that would be the end of it. Little did I know.

The guy is STILL calling me. I was polite at first and would return his messages. Our schedules never coordinated so we didn't ever actually talk. I figured when it became clear that we were never actually going to talk to each other it would be over. Never mind the fact that he lives down in Riverside! And the fact it would take me ages to get back to him. But no. He still freaking calls me. I've even left a message along the lines of, "Hey mate, it was fun and all, but I'm not interested." He still doesn't get it. It'd finally been a few weeks since I'd heard from him so I thought I was finally safe.

Sunday night I was checking my phone and who do I have a message from? You guessed it. This one, however, was priceless. "...I've been thinking a lot about why I didn't kick that other chick out of the tent that night. Well, I wanted to ask you when we actually spoke to each other, but since that doesn't seem to happen here goes. I was wondering if you want to spend a weekend in Vegas with me? I've got hotel reservations, tickets to the shows, I'll pay for everything. You don't have to do anything except show up. It'd be great to spend the weekend with you. Let me know."

I had to pull over to the side of the road I was laughing so hard. Does this guy actually think that after one evening - hell, not even an evening! - 30 minutes of making out I'm going to go away for a weekend with him? Could someone please help me build that bridge between those two events because I've tried, and I really can't. It'd be one thing if we had been dating, but we're not. We haven't even spoken in two months. Oh people entertain me! I guess it would be wrong to ask if I could go on the trip and bring someone else instead. Kidding! (about asking, not about it being wrong)

Any of you ladies out there want an all-expense paid trip to Vegas? I can guarantee you having a guy cater to your every whim and follow you around like a little puppy dog. Hell, he'll even call you for months after. Any takers?

Man, sometimes remaining single is a good thing!

This stalking moment was brought to you by the letter S and the number 1.

NC/SC - The Beginning

I promised ages ago to blog about my time at NC/SC. Life got hectic, shit happens (not the hasher), yadda yadda yadda. So now it's time to regale you with tales from the trail.

After getting up ridiculously early in the morning on that Thursday to be freshly showered yet still bleary-eyed for my Super Shuttle driver, I arrived at SFO. There was actually a queue to check in for First Class. What the heck? I thought if you were first class the point was you didn't have to wait like the rest of the lemmings. Well, it's good to get your dreams shattered early in the weekend so then the blow is softened later if anything else doesn't live up to expectations.

Hopped on my 6:35am flight (ugh) and made myself comfortable in my nice wide leather seat. I'm rather certain I sat there with the smug look of satisfaction I normally see on the faces of those in first class as they watch the peons parade past into coach. Since they normally board the airplane from the rear of the aircraft, wouldn't it be nicer if they didn't board the 1st class folks until last? That way the rest of us don't have to see what we are missing. Anyway, promptly started with a Baileys and coffee. Mmmm...feeling better already. Here are some shots looking back at SF from the plane:


And one more when the sun was actually rising:



Had a nice chat with the gent sitting next to me as we both proceeded to drink the entire flight to Charlotte. All in all an uneventful flight - just the way I like them!

Arrived in Charlotte and had a bit of time before my next flight. Decided to go find High Balls and No Hose from Nipples. Didn't know either of them, but we were going to be on the same flight from Charlotte to Savannah so figured I'd track them down. Managed to find them (gotta love hash shirts!) and we headed to the bar for a beverage. Then it was time to hop on our flight. Those poor shmucks had to sit in the back while I hopped back into First Class and had another gin and tonic on the short hop to Savannah.

We were met at the airport by the GM of Savannah which was great. After a quick stop at his house to pick up the bar for the weekend, we headed out to Sherwood Plantation in Hardeeville, South Carolina. This is where we'd be spending the weekend. Being the first folks there HB, NH and I scouted out the best spot for our tents and set them up. We then borrowed the car to make a beer run because we were a bit thirsty after all that work.

Now Hardeeville is really about as small as it sounds. We headed up to the local gas station to get some beer. Cue dueling banjos. We purchase our beer, a little cooler and some ice. It just so happens that right next door is a fireworks store. Now, living in Cali for the past 6 years kinda makes you forget that other places in the country sell fireworks. So we crack open our cans of Bud Light and walk on in. Only in the South can you have an open beer in one hand and purchase an M80 with the other! I should have had my camera with me. The boys picked up some nice sets of fireworks for later in the weekend and we headed back to the plantation.

A bit later we were driven back into Savannah as we were going to spend the night there. We stopped at one pub to pick up a couple other Florida hashers - Ear Muffs and Wrong Hole. The crew headed to another pub where we got some grub and continued drinking. Then we found a hotel and just hung out there. A side note - NH has the biggest good ol' boy accent you have EVER heard. I'm not sure where he came up with that, but man it is thick! Well, those of you who know me know how quickly I pick up accents when I'm around them. By the time we hit the hotel you would have thought I was originally from the South. Thanks NH! Originally we were going to have two rooms - HB, NH and myself in one with EM and WH in another. NH and I had made a pact about sharing a bed as HB refused to share one with NH. As HB was falling asleep he told the girls we might as well all just share a room. Now, I'm generally fine w/ sharing a room with folks, but was exhausted from a long week at work, knew I wasn't going to be getting any sleep the rest of the weekend and frankly was feeling a bit old to share a hotel room with 4 other people. So I went and got my own room. It was worth every penny at that point! NH ended up joining me (not like that y'all!) so we shared this giant-ass king sized bed.

The next day the 5 of us went to breakfast and then decided to head to the plantation. Well, WH and EM had driven up in a little two door car. Someone gets the genius idea that all 5 of us, plus our luggage/camping gear can make the 20-30min drive to the plantation. So we have the two small women in the front and the two guys over 6' plus me in the back. Talk about a freaking clown car!

Since three of us already had our stuff set up we were free to immediately start drinking. We finished the beer we had and by that time the beer truck along with Shit Happens had appeared. Ah, a glorious site! The beer truck that is. Does anyone really want to see Ron Jeremy before noon? (Love ya SH!) Anyway, we wiled away the afternoon drinking beer, single malt, etc. as more and more folks arrived. Got to see some familiar faces which was pleasantly surprising - Chippendale, Sperm Burp, Ganja Man, etc. When we checked in we got our kick-ass giveaways. I was really impressed with our name tags and rugby jerseys! Ok, maybe they mean more to me since I used to play, but I thought they were fabulous! After dinner (and man the food was impressive!) we were playing 3man. NH went down early...actually puking as we were sitting there playing. Poor form young one. Poor form. He passed out in his tent, but we were able to rally him before the hash that night.

Late in the evening we started the Shooting Star hash. Basically you stumble from check to check and at each is a different shooter. I somehow got the genius idea that until Scrum Muffin flew in, I was going to be drinking for two. By the time Scrummy arrived I was rat-arsed! I think I even let NH do a body shot at one point. Drunken punken! I do remember helping Scrummy set up her tent around midnight. Personally I find that rather impressive - it's midnight, pitch black, I'm wasted and we still manage to set up the porn star tent.

Finally around 3am or so I realize just how out of it I am and after drinking some water I go pass out in my tent. I don't know how long people went on that night. There could have been a fire and I don't think I would have woken up.

In the interest of this not turning into the world's longest posting, I'll save Sat and Sunday for another post. Stay tuned!

Episode One was brought to you by the letter D and the number 81.

The Good Old Days

I was driving to work today and happened to observe just how many vehicles out there now have screens in the back for watching movies. You see them in the back of headrests in Mercedes, one large screen in minivans and today one in the back of a pickup truck. They're everywhere, they're everywhere!

Growing up, my family took a vacation every summer. We would take 2 weeks and drive. We had some amazing trips - Yellowstone, Glacier, Washington DC, Badlands, Black Hills, Grand Tetons, etc. Before each trip my mom would take my brother and me to the library to stock up on books. We would each check out literally a tote-box full of them to read on the trip. When we were driving we'd either be checking out the scenery, talking with the fam (ok, sometimes my brother and I fighting instead) or reading our books. About half way through the trip we'd trade because we had each finished our collection of books.

I fully understand (and appreciate) that I was raised differently than a lot of folks these days. From a very early age my brother and I were reading and enjoying it. I still love to read to this day, though it's a bit of an expensive habit because I read so quickly. There's nothing quite like curling up with a good book on a rainy afternoon or on a beach in the sunshine. For me it's a great escape from whatever is going on in the world.

Seeing all the screens in the backs of cars makes me a bit sad. Not for me, but for those kids. Have we really become so dependent on technology that we have to be visually stimulated wherever we go? These aren't people on long roadtrips even, these are folks driving to the store or the gas station. Can you really not find anything to talk about with your kids in that 20 minute drive? Can your kids not actually read a book and use their imagination for those 20 minutes? Unplug people! Take the time to actually notice what is around you. Take the time to use your imagination as you read a story. My parents did it with me and I turned out ok. (Shut up MB!)

It seems to me that the more we use technology to "improve our lives," the less we actually connect with each other. Seems more and more families are falling apart and no one can understand what went wrong. Hmmm...maybe if we actually talked to each other instead of constantly turning to a screen it would help?!?!

Oh well, just my $0.02.

This rant was brought to you by the letter T and the number 28.

Bare Naked Ladies

At ease gentlemen. You will not be seeing any naked ladies in this post.

I went to the BNL concert last night at Masonic Auditorium in (s)Nob Hill. Those of you not familiar with BNL, they're a bunch of guys from Canada who have been around since '88. Here's a review of their concert last year. Or you can check out their website.

The day started off rather badly. I had purchased 6 tickets to this show and had found 3 other folks to go. I figured I could dump 2 tickets easily. That plan works much better if you don't forget about it until the day of the show. That morning I receive emails from 2 of the 3 folks that they can no longer go to the show. Nothing like notice. The first one had to go to LA unexpectedly for work and didn't think he'd be back in time. Fair enough, duty calls. The second just flaked on it and agreed to help a catering buddy cook for some holiday parties from 4-10pm. That I'm not so cool with.

Now, I know most of you are saying well, they should still pay for their tickets. I agree. However, one of them I had told the ticket was his Christmas gift so that's out (the catering guy - kinda makes you feel crappy that is how your gift is treated). The second one is the guy who gave me a free Rolling Stones ticket so honestly, there's no way I would charge him for this one even before this happened, let alone when this happened.

Now I had four tickets on my hands at $50 each to a show that was not even sold out. How that came about I do not know. These guys are great and when I saw them last year the place sold out. I don't think there was a lot of advertising for it this year for some reason. So there I am, in the cold trying to sell $200 worth of tickets to a show that is not sold out. I think I ended up getting $80 total. That was painful!

However, on a brighter note my friend PF kept her part of the bargain and went to the show with me. The show absolutely rocked!! You know how sometimes you don't listen to a band for ages and then you see them live and it reminds you just why you started liking them in the first place? That was last night's show for me. Those guys are just hilarious. 3/4 of the show is improvised which just leaves me in stitches. Very entertaining. The opening band (which I missed most of due to selling tickets) was The LeeVees whom I knew nothing about, but were also really humerous. In between the LeeVees and BNL they brought out the Piedmont Choir. This is a choir of kids probably 5-8 or so in age. They sang some Christmas carols and were incredibly cute. I thought it was fantastic that BNL then came on stage and sang a few with them as well.

If y'all ever get the chance to see Bare Naked Ladies live, I highly recommend it! Worth every penny (and in this case it was a LOT of pennies for me).

This was brought to you by the letters BNL and the number 4.

The Things We do for Vanity

Being a self-admitted victim of certain societal standards, I subscribe to the relatively hair-free lifestyle. I wax my eyebrows, I'm currently doing laser hair removal under the arms (waxing was too much of a pain in the arse), I shave my legs fairly regularly and up until recently have also done the bikini wax.

Side note - those of you who believe in evolution, please explain to me how it is possible that hair under my arms hasn't gone away? Honestly, I don't need it. It serves no use. What gives? I digress...

About a month ago I got a wild hare up my ass (note that was the metaphorical hare, not the literal hair). Numerous friends have done the Brazillian wax thing and have told me how much they enjoy it. Personally, I can't go for the Brazillian wax because a) I'm not a porn star (yes, I know you all are shocked), b) I'm not a 10 year old girl c) I don't want a Mr. Biggelsworth and d) I firmly believe there are certain parts of the human body wax was never meant to be.

One of the aforementioned friends got married recently. She decided to try the Brazillian before her honeymoon and liked it. Apparently it was the same place her sister-in-law had gone after thoroughly researching the places to go. I assume that research didn't take place at work. K passed on the information to me and as a result of the wild hare, decided to make an appointment.

Off to Bellapelle I go. It, of course, is located in the very posh Union Square area. You should note that the place I generally go is pretty close to my house and I can get my eyebrows and bikini done for something like $25. After a shower (hey, you gotta be clean for these things) I head down and check-in. I hop in the elevator and this girl is in there with me who asks if I'm heading to Bellapelle as well. We started chatting and it turns out it is her first time as well and she is really nervous. I wasn't as nervous because I decided to do the "Extended Bikini" as opposed to the full Brazillian. As I'm waiting they ask if I want a glass of wine. All right! This is looking up. Then I realize it's rather genius to help their clients relax because being nervous just makes the whole experience worse. A couple glasses of wine later I get called. The girl tells me I can bring my glass of wine into the room. Sweet!

She started with the eyebrows. Did a rather amazing job. Those of you who know me know I have some funky eyebrows so I was really impressed. She started to leave the room so I asked her about the extended bikini. Whoever had taken the reservation had screwed up and not put it on the schedule, but she had time to do it so there was no backing out.

After leaving me alone to undress and use some babywipes, she comes back in. Let me tell you, this is a full service operation. They not only wax, they also trim what hair is left. I felt like I was in a barbershop, but instead of a quartet, an iPod was going. Do you remember the Patrick Swayze movie Roadhouse? In it, he has this great (sarcasm) quote - "Pain don't hurt." Well, Patrick, go get an extended bikini wax and then try and tell me that.

Actually, all in all it wasn't that bad. Granted, that could be due to 3 glasses of wine, but it was bearable. The funniest part is we're sitting there carrying on some random conversation as she's working. I'm glad one of us was comfortable. At the end I asked her, "Has anyone ever told you they feel like they should be dating you when you do this? You've seen more of me than some guys I've dated." She just laughed and said she'd heard a lot of comments, but not that one. After she finished ripping hair out of rather sensitive areas, she left the room so I could get dressed. Now honestly, why bother leaving? You've already seen it all anyway. Is it really time to be prudish now that I'm putting ON clothing? Sum total of paying someone to hurt me in a non-sexual way: $75.

People who do the Brazillian always talk about how addicting it is. I think they're nuts and must secretly be rather masochistic.

So naturally I was back two weeks later to get it all done again (my damn hair grows too quickly). It really is addicting. Now I just have to figure out how to balance my cow-towing to societal mandates with spending $150 (w/o tip) a month. Maybe next time someone looks at me and comments on me being a wooly-mammoth I will charge them $75 so I can go get it taken care of. Yeah, that would go over well.

So all you men out there - the next time you see your woman nicely maintained, make a comment to let her know you appreciate it. You have no idea the pain involved in looking that way.

This moment of Too Much Information was brought to you by the letter W and the number 75.

Antici.......................

Pation.

Apologies to all for not blogging for a while. I've been up to my ass in alligators. I feel like I'm letting you down. Then again, you may be grateful for the break from my drivel. I'll try and get something posted this weekend, though no guarantees as it, too, is pretty packed. Just wanted you to know I haven't forgotten about you.

This was brought to you by the letters BH and the number 1.

Interpretation

MB recently posted a great quote. In true MB fashion it elicited quite a response.

One of those responses brought up the point that the individual attributed to the quote rings false. The responder said that what Wade Davis stands for seems to lend itself to questioning. At the end, the comment implied it was not worthy of being on the side of a monitor.

It made me wonder - is it right to discount a quote simply because we don't like the person who said it? Is it fair to discredit what someone says simply because we don't agree with what they stand for? Or what others will use the quote for? Or how others will take it out of context and twist it to fit their needs? Does that make the quote any less true or valid? Does it negate what the quote really says?

I guess I don't know, but it sure makes me think.

This pensive moment was brought to you by the letter M and the number 20.

My Hero

As a lot of you know, I played rugby for about 8 years. I finally gave up the ghost after separating one shoulder and dislocating the other in the same year. Figured it was time for my body to take a break. When I move to New Zealand I may start up again, but in the meantime I'm enjoying not hurting all the time.

Hence my surprise and admiration when someone sent me this link for a video on MSN "News". This guy is 90 years old and still playing. You, sir, are my hero!! You go on with your bad self!

Check out the video here. Unfortunately you have to sit through a 30 second commercial. Well worth it though.

This was brought to you by the letter H and the number 90.