It got me to thinking though. I think each person should think about where they would and would not live. I personally took the liberty of breaking the US down into three sectors. The “I would most definitely set up camp here” sector, the “I guess I would provided it was not in a dry county of said state” sector, and the “ha-ha, yeah that’s funny but I don’t think so” sector.

There were some trends that came forward. The first of which is obvious, nearly all of the states were towards the east coast. Nearly all of them enjoyed more than two of Mother Nature’s bounteous seasons. Surprisingly, I found that every single state that starts and ends with a vowel I have no use for.
Iowa? I wish it were closer to the ocean so I could just push it in and let it be pillaged by pirates who eventually give up on trying to find something useful in it, like my colon trying to eat iceberg lettuce.
Indiana? Pick a goddamned time zone already, for chrissake.
Alaska? Deadliest Catch at least got you a second thought.
Alabama? How do you spell backwards again?
Illinois? The “s” is silent. Close enough, I am lumping it in.

Anyway, it was an enjoyable exercise. I especially liked it because I just did it from the impression in my head. I did no research whatsoever. It was so politically incorrect that my mind reveled in its own ignorance.

While in Wisconsin I have been bouncing between hotels. My particular one comes equipped with 31 channels of cable goodness. For an expert like myself, 31 channels can be flipped through entirely in less than a minute. I spend a lot of time doing this, especially when I get in bed. Being a warm blooded male, I will admit that my thumb sometimes gets distracted, shall we say. This is often on one of the three Showtime channels I get. Over time I have noticed that there is a trend as to what is shown on what night. It is shockingly predictable and repeatable. I honestly believe that they have somewhere developed a formula that determines what night they have nudity, and to what level. I personally picture 4 fat guys, all in suits, chomping on cigars, discarding legitimate data brought in to them by the nerd department of the network. I am going to try and boil it down.
Monday – the week is just starting. People are exhausted and not interested in being titillated. Let’s show our original programming. Noone watches for movies anymore anyway, just like how noone watches MTV for music videos.
Tuesday – We need our male demographic, show our sports themed shows.
Weds. – It’s hump day! (fat guy #3 slickly laughs at the irony). Get the softcore stuff on. Movies – R rated, go get them.
Thursday – Our audience is somewhat desperate. Let’s get one option during the night that at least “perks” them up.
Friday/Saturday – Noone is home watching tv. Throw some movies on and call it a day.
Sunday – We should show serious movies. Or, we can regurgitate the same tired programming we will have on tomorrow night.

You are definitely welcome for the above information.

Fighting the Tuesday blues,
-Michael

I have heard rave reviews of this one. “It’s not as crappy as the other one in town.” “It’s a whole lot less ghetto.” It is only fair that I am greeted at the door by two very ghetto hostesses. I thought they were hostesses. More on this later.

So, I go through my normal “table for 1″ routine. We bypass the bar, the bar tables, one section of seating, and end up on the left side of the restaurant. I am then taken through the ENTIRE unoccupied section until I am against the window. I am the only person in the section. Literally I am so far over that I could not make out discernible features about the waitresses waiting on the nearest table to me. How am I supposed to enjoy Hooters if I can’t see tattoos, cheap weaves, cup size, eye colour, etc. And I am at an angle where I cannot even view any TV’s without straining my eyes. I confuse my Mensa level waitress (DumbSlut) by ordering a water, and then a drink. I also get a trivia console to console me for being such a dork and sitting in my own section.

I am on my 2nd trivia question when the food comes. Mind you it has been less than 5 minutes (good thing I didn’t get the all you can eat wings, which leave you in less than 5 minutes). The waitress opens my salsa. Let me reiterate that – my salsa came in its own container. She struggled with it, but the trooper eventually got it! I patted her on the head. I was so proud of her figuring out how to open it.

On the 4th question the burly female manager comes by (take a big sniff of that irony, folks) and proceeds to change the channel of the tv that I was playing trivia on. I AM THE ONLY PERSON IN THE SECTION AND THAT WAS THE TV I WAS WATCHING. After getting her to change it back I politely ask her why I was sat where I was. She informed me that it was DumbSlut’s section. Apparently there are not hostesses. The waitresses come up and vie for ones attention and then take you to her section. The manager went on to say “she must have really wanted you then.” Yeah, must have really wanted to make my dining experience miserable. So, the short of it is that I could have chosen my section based on whatever attribute(s) I wanted. It assuredly would have not been DumbSlut.

I wolf my food, eating, drinking, and playing trivia as fast as I can so I can leave. So much for that leisurely dining experience I wanted. I sat there observing as other people finally got sat in my section and how long it took them to utter WTF? Two guys stuck it out for 10 mins before they moved.

So I get through the meal and finally get the check. I put it on the edge of the table with my credit card on it. DumbSlut comes up and asks if I want it on the card. Well no, I want it gratis, but I suppose I will let you put it on the card.

I finally pay the bill, I mean I literally was putting the receipt back in when she comes over to start talking for the first time. At Hooters they talk to you for awhile, making you think for a few fleeting moments that you are not an overweight ogre in their presence. She then asks me if I am on my way to work. Yeah, you got me. I always have a drink before I go into work at 7:30 at night!!!

I am beginning to think Hooters really is a strip club. They peddle drinks incessantly, the girls look ok until the lights come on, the ugly girl is inevitably the one that sits at my table and wants to talk, the food is atrociously bad, and the servers are greedy wenches who will trip over things when you come in to try and mark their turf.

Maybe I shouldn’t CC Hooters management on this. Nah, I think I should. Imagine the coupons I might get out of it. Better than complaining to some company with a stupid product! At least the product(s) are far superior here.

Tackily yours,
-Michael

I noticed that there was a note on the door of the hotel today. It was talking about the time change last weekend, and how the clock needed to be rolled back, and to consult the front desk if one needed assistance. I get this, as there are many foreigners staying in the hotel. But, the note was so poorly written, and so convoluted, that I had to read it three times to understand it. There is no way a foreign person would have understood it.

I went into the hotel lobby to purchase a food stuff from the mini-vending area. They have a TV there. I see that the topic on CNN is “Animals in Need.” I figured it was about abandoned pets, or abused pets, etc. Instead they pan to two sheep in the studio. Freaking sheep! What the hell do sheep need? Are the shears not sharp enough? Are they taking too much abuse in the “lonely farmer” joke arena? Good grief.

I have vented in this space previously about my irritation with those God-awful family stickers on the back of cars. My new campaign is going to add two prongs to this triumvirate. I am going after people that have the Ichthus symbol on their car. It irritates me for some reason because I feel like it is a covert “hidden handshake” way of saying you are Christian. At least I know to drive like an a’hole around you on Sunday to test your mettle. The other irritation are those stickers with numbers in them. You know them – 26.2, 70.3, 140.6. They are signs that the person has done a marathon, triathlon, or superduperoverachieverEvent. Good for you. Seriously. You are in good shape and take care of yourself. Thanks for letting me know. I am going to put the number 2 on my car, for the number of hamburgers I eat per week. Better yet, I am going to start posting alternative versions of the three. Like 25.8 (number of pounds I am overweight),
removing the head of a family sticker, etc. I am not going to put “Darwin” in the centre of the ichthus fish though. That has already been done and is stupid too.

Grumblings aside, what a nice day!
-Michael

Generally speaking, and I have been to a lot of these style restaurants, part of the ambience (*dripping sarcasm*) is interfacing with the natural speaking employees. For example –

I was introduced in the past year to Thai iced tea. It is a different tasting tea that they essentially put a smidge of condensed milk on top of. It is so yummy, very sweet. I was craving one whilst sitting in my hotel room, er office. I sauntered down the hill to the restaurant at the base of the hotel. Given that it was mid-afternoon there were no patrons in there. The employees scrambled into place. I bellowed “No need for a menu, I simply want a Thai iced tea.”

The lady gets everything ready and says to me “Do you want ice in it?” I was dumbfounded. I went through everything in my head – I didn’t say Thai tea; I said iced tea. I nodded while muttering “of course I do.” She hands it to me and tells me the amount. I gave her exact change and turned to leave. I got halfway turned when she said “Can I get you anything else?” I already paid and was leaving. Why of course I want something else!?!?!?! Seriously, why didn’t she ask that before I paid. That is like going to McDonalds drive thru, getting your bag and beverage and then being asked by the nasal disembodied voice “do you want an apple pie?”

There are two hibachi restaurants near the hotel that have great prices on Monday and Tuesday. The closer one has p*ss-poor service, but in my laziness I went there last week. It gets crowded because many people are frugal like me. Ok, they aren’t AS frugal as I am, but I give them respect for at least trying. Anyway, all the tables are taken. There is a large sushi bar and a large regular bar. EVERY time I go there they shove me to the sushi bar, regardless of whether I want sushi. The seats are super tight together and I cannot stand it. This time the host goes “Just one? Sushi bar?” I replied “Can I sit at the regular bar instead?” The host came back with “Ohhh – sushi bar” and started walking. He got to the sushi bar and pulled out a chair. The problem was I had never moved from the host station. The hostess, after seeing this all go down, tried to politely coerce me to the sushi bar. I let her know as well that I would be sitting at
the bar. Finally he relented and sat me at the bar. Needless to say the service I received after that was less than hospitable. But, my favourite part was getting the host to change the station. No, I really do not want to watch the DIY network when the World Series is on. I am telling you – I am really not going back there after this. Well, unless I am lazy.

Suddenly hungry,
-Michael

After all, there is part of the room taken up by racing equipment. My toiletry “thing” takes up much of the closet, which results in shoes being double and triple stacked. Sporting equipment? Top shelf of the closet. I even added a mini Christmas tree to at least add some “festive-ness” to the daily existence.

I read the above, and have to laugh at myself. I complain, but then I see Bubbsy (as I have affectionately named him). Bubbsy has been here seemingly as long as I have. He is a big boy, north of the 300lb threshold that requires you to purchase more than one airplane seat. But, multiple times per day, I see him outside, with his weimaraner on a leash and a little tote. Open the tote, and out comes two more dogs, of the dachsund size proportion. I watch him load the dogs in the car, with no more room in his vehicle due to his stuff. It is a pretty nice, new SUV, so I don’t think he is really struggling financially, but I cannot imagine what his room smells like or how claustrophobic it must be.

That being said, I think I would gladly trade to be next to him instead and have some resident dog stink. I can not stand having every possession of mine smelling like an Indian grocery store. I got new towels last week. I leave for the weekend, come back on Monday, grab a new towel, and suddenly after my shower I feel like basmati rice.

I have lamented previously about the distance required to traverse to pitch the garbage on my hotel floor. Instead of hiking that, many of my neighbours have taken to just leaving it in the hallway. That would be fine if the maid always takes it! Anyway, a few weeks back, I saw Bubbsy’s equally girthy brother from another mother bringing his groceries up to his room – on one of the luggage carts. Naturally, such laziness means that he would leave his garbage in the hallway. I walked by a few days later, noticed what was discarded in it (clear bag), and had to go grab my notepad. The contents, you ask?

French onion dip
Chips Ahoy
Bud Light
Diet Dr. Pepper
Pizza box
Can of creamed corn
Pringles
Grapes (uneaten)

So, next time you feel slovenly, you can think of this upstanding member of the local Cardiac Club. And no, that will not stop me from heading off to lunch.

Eagerly awaiting his cholesterol results,
-Michael

I really had no idea what to expect. 24 hours in a go-kart split between 6 people? How bad could it be? I have done over an hour straight before in 2 hour races; this just prolongs the agony a tad. I did a crash course in strengthening my core and improving my diet, but that was really it. It was off on a crazy adventure.

Day 1 – Drive from Michigan to Charlotte.
Day 2 – Practise essentially all day.
“Day 3″ – Get to track way too frickin’ early and race
“Day 4″ – Do not leave track through night, and stay till awards ceremony. Then drive all the way back to Michigan.
Day 1-4 – Whine. A lot. Oh, and make running jokes that get more and more complex as the weekend progresses.

The TV coverage always alludes to the strange things that go on during the night as delerium gets closer and closer. Let the record show that I made it through the 24 on 2 hours of sleep, after getting 6 the night before. Here are some actual things that occurred, in no particular order, paying homage to Jeff Foxworthy with a trite play on his money-making routine.

- You might be participating in an endurance race if you find yourself popping aspirin like chiclets, completely unable to figure out how many aspirin you can take in a 24 hour period because you cannot figure out really when the 24 hour period started.
- You might be participating in an endurance race if you end up in a ghetto supermarket trying to purchase bananas, powerbars, granola bars, and those mythical “half-pretzel, half-Ritz cracker” things that are just good as all get out and are gone way before the others. Oh yeah, this supermarket will be across from a strip mall that has “Pimp Yo Ride” car audio and “Mo’ Money” tax service. This will also be up the road from the strip mall that has a chicken/ribs BBQ place next to a barber shop.
- You might be participating in an endurance race if you later in the race end up in a ghetto convenience store/Subway, where the alchoholic in cuffs on the ground in front of the store shouting racist expletives at the patrons will neither deter you nor make you flinch as you enter the store because you are on a mission to find sustenance.
- You might be participating in an endurance race if you find yourself combing through the bags of food unable to find a bad combination of foodstuffs. “You know, I did just have that Atomic Fireball, but I really could go for some trail mix.”
- You might be participating in an endurance race if you find yourself unable to form a cogent sentence and end up finishing 3 out of every 4 sentences with “never mind.”
- You might be participating in an endurance race if you find yourself having bizarre arguments with your subconscious. You know the kind, like “I have to drive in 10 minutes, but I kind of have to pee. Maybe if I hold it, the pressure of my bladder will distract me from the fact that my neck is killing me.”
- You might be participating in an endurance race if the one muscle group you are not worried about before the race is the one that fails you. To that point, did you know you can basically race with your head completely laying on your shoulder?
- You might be participating in an endurance race if you find yourself brushing your teeth in the middle of the night but being unable to decide if it is the before bed or waking up cleaning. You might also find yourself justifying that 3 in the morning is a good time to take your morning medicine because, hell, you aren’t going to bed anyway so it is practically morning.
- You might be participating in an endurance race if you find yourself looking at the clock. Often. Like every 10 minutes often.
- You might be participating in an endurance race if you find new and creative uses for duct tape that seem to take forever to implement. At one point I had duct tape holding the velcro shut on my suit, around my hand to try and prevent more movement from exacerbating blisters, attaching some gonorp to my neck brace to provide an artificial headrest, and I am sure I am forgetting others.
- You might be participating in an endurance race if all you want to do is sleep, but doing so is the seemingly worst thing you can do. I finally fell asleep, woke up to my alarm after some completely deranged dream but couldn’t stand up because my body was so sore and I had to push off on hands that were blister riddled. I was in more pain after.
- You might be participating in an endurance race if you vow never to do it again but 30 minutes later are already thinking about next year.

Still looking for cogent thoughts,
-Michael

Sadly though, that is one of my beefs. I complained about those stupid stickers that families put on their minivan that, in stick figures, diagrams what comprises the family itself. They are getting more and more prevalent – as people copy one another. They are for the most part similar, although some are a spin on the theme (using flip flops when near the beach). And I did enjoy seeing one this week where the dad was missing (almost as good as the beheaded family one).

But the same is true of those stupid white oval stickers with a black border and text. They have them for everything now. Ok, you went to Hilton Head Island. Oh wow, you ran a half marathon or a triathlon you narcisisstic overachiever. Ok, your kid goes to Arrogant Prick Institute. Do we really need one for every school now?

Speaking of school related stickers, is it really a requirement to have a sticker showing your kid’s jersey number and what sport he/she plays? Just because everyone else does it doesn’t mean you have to be uncreative and follow it. The only thing it does is illustrate how uncreative you were when you named your child, because we see what completely asinine spelling you added to a normal name.

Continuing the segue roll with a children topic, I saw the strangest billboard the other day. It said “Abortion – 40 million that will not be paying into social security.” I pondered that for quite some time and still am not confident I get it. I mean, do not get me wrong, I get pretty frothed up at the fact that I am contributing to SS but will never get a cent out of it. But that does not mean I am going to let it change my stand on abortion. “Yeah, you know Clem, I was ok with going down to the PP clinic until I realised that my monthly check in 30 years was going to be fractionally smaller. I mean after all, the difference in my check will assuredly cover 18 years worth of expenses for a child.” Is that really the most cogent argument that they could come up with for not having an abortion?

Finally, while we are on the subject of death, I want to complain about the further coddling of our youth. When I was a kid, come spring, they would put out the “don’t drink and drive” car. It was a car that had supposedly been involved in a drunk driving accident, and these bastards were mangled! I used to spend 30 minutes every year analysing the car, trying to figure out what happened, how it got hit, if the person lived, etc. I remember the year that the rear impact was so violent that the rear seat was pressed against the back of the front seat. I remember the year that that the A pillar on the passenger side was almost touching the driver’s seat. And I cannot forget the years that the blood was still in the car, including on the windshield one year. THAT was a deterrent. The car I saw this year was a joke. The fender was barely crinkled, and the bumper had basically been ripped off. I don’t even know if it was fast enough for the airbag
to deploy. The only thing it made me want to do was get in an accident like that! It looked like something we would have done locking wheels on our way back to the apartment in college. The net of it was that it was too pansified for me to waste time to stop and look at. Just like I won’t have time to stop for the pansified youth of today when they need a binkie in the workplace in 15 years…

Still ornery after all these years,
-Michael

I recently changed hotels just to get to a new “area.” Plus, I hated that place (subject for another blog). I had gotten stagnant, going to the same three or four restaurants. Well, what happened, but I moved and found new places to frequent. Despite my stuffy nose, the beautiful weather inspired me to find somewhere new tonight. I made a beeline for a place I have been passing every day. It looked like a western saloon and had me fawning over a gargantuan piece of cow. Instead I show up and find out it is a taco place! I went it to look at the menu and it was even more pretentious than I anticipated. Tapas? Really? So I drove around some more. And then some more. I ended up back at the same place I have been eating at every day seemingly. There I got to have a non-stop runny nose, have people sit on both sides of me at the bar to smoke, and naturally proceed to stain my shirt.

So, I did the only natural thing after. I grabbed a Klondike bar and returned to my hotel room.

-Michael

That being said, it has not exactly been a banner two weeks for healthy food consumption (count Daytona in there). Then I try to get back on the wagon this morning and it is Girl Scout cookie delivery day. There were crumbs and anarchy everywhere. Hell, at 75 calories per cookie I had 300 calories in me before my computer even finished booting.

Speaking of food, I had corn nuts for the first time in ages the other day. I cannot remember the last time I saw them and there they were, facing me at the convenience store. I took the package over the salt and vinegar chip stalwart. They were delectable, reminding me how much I missed them and baffling me as to why they are not more popular. Then I burped and remembered why. Good God was that horrendous. I felt like I was taste testing at the factory, only they had loaded it up with too many preservatives.

Continuing on the food front (the omnipresent theme of my blog), I was changing planes not all that long ago when I spied a very nervous young lady having a snack waiting at her gate. She had obviously brought this snack herself, as it was in a Ziploc bag – a 1 gallon Ziploc bag that was filled with cheese puffs. And there she was, just chain chewing away. Her friend appeared to want some, but gave up trying to reach into the bag after almost having a finger severed at the knuckle. This wouldn’t have been that bad if she wasn’t a serious chub-a-lub. The chunker was just going to town on the cheese puffs, like they had killed a close relative of hers. Anyway, the irony was just too much for me to bear. I looked at her, opened my mouth, and well, I audibly laughed. I mean a hearty laugh too. There could not be anything funnier than that.

Although tonight did its best to take the crown. I went to dinner at a Japanese restaurant. I was thinking to myself, whilst looking at a table across the way that had 3 Asians and 1 non-Asian, about how amusing it is that this situation always presents itself. I pondered that for a minute until I noticed the couple adjacent to me. Him? 40′s, bald, pudgy, boring from what I could hear. Her? 20′s, an absolute firecracker, a banging body, and a killer tramp stamp. She looked like a Geisha girl that had been completely westernised. I bet she even charged for her time. But, then I went to the mall for Dairy Queen after. There, while covertly sitting off in the corner of the top level and people watching, I spotted the exact reverse! It was a 40′s, balding, coke bottle bespectacled Asian businessman, walking around with an early 30′s white girl donning a miniskirt and CFM boots. It was as if they were the bizarro version of the first couple.

Time for bed – and hoping the Reader isn’t on, so I won’t be coaxed into watching Kate Winslet parade around nude all movie again. And next time, Reader director, please place some sort of warning on the screen when there is about to be male full frontal. Egad, I was not ready for that and almost hit my head diving for the remote.

Back, and all yours,
-Michael

I just moved into an extended stay type place. It is like having my own apartment. At least that is what the brochure tells me. Actually, it just leaves me confused as hell. There isn’t maid service unless you pay for it. There is a full time desk staff. Yet, it is really a hotel room that somone stuck a two burner stove, a full size fridge, a sink, and two sets of table settings in. Really, two sets. Two sets of stuff so cheap that you get change at the dollar store. I should have slapped the guy who showed me the demo room when he said “you get everything but the placemats.” Speaking of employees, I looked into multiple places. At one from a different chain, I was shown the room by a rather effeminate fellow. His smiles disconcerted me and made me uncomfortable. I was afraid he was going to take me into a room and make me listen to soundtracks until I signed the contract. Imagine my surprise when I walk in tonight and he is sitting at the
front desk of my hotel. Turns out the two are under the same umbrella and he gets to work here sometimes. Totally enjoyed the awkward small talk we got to have. Yeah.

Pathetic is drinking a nice wine out of a plastic cup provided in the room (after using my car key as a corkscrew). I thought it was a better idea than using the coffee mug. I am a little worried about it staining the high quality glass. Bought some dish soap tonight and forgot to get a sponge. Yeah.

I never know what time it is. Between the car, multiple phones, computers, my watch, and even TV schedules – I am just perpetually baffled. I feel like I am in Indiana, back when it gave the big “eff you” to daylight savings time. I observe Eastern time when I want and Central when I want. So kiss off.

My list of people I would love to be deftly excised from the rolls of this fine earth is starting to take more shape. My plan is to have a list of 5, perhaps 10, by July. I figure a solid 5 is doable by the end of the year. I may have even metioned some of these already, but I really don’t care. I am starting with people that have tattoos on their neck. Really, I am confident that anyone who gets that done cannot be trusted in a situation that requires intense decision-making skills, because they obviously failed (note – you get a pass if you are an extreme sports athlete). If you wear gloves in the store, just save the trouble and jump into the tar pit. I don’t care how cold it is in the juice aisle. And should you then dare to pay at the supermarket with a check (also a commitable offence), you get dragged in too. In fact, your arm is getting ripped off so that the guy who came up with the idea to have angled parking in high traffic parking
lots can be whapped repeatedly with it. Lastly for now, I am watching you people that put those suddenly trendy stickers on the back of your SUV/minivan of a stick figure representation of your family holding hands. So you can procreate? Who gives a shit? Honestly. I want to put one of those on my car and “X” out two of the kids. Or put like 13 kids. Or better yet, put pictures of the parental units arm in hoof with farm animals.

Anxiously hoping for a remote that works,
-Michael