If he is, he'll claim Glasgow is the be-all, end-all city of the land of Lochness. I'm partial to Edinburgh but I'm just a yankee gal who is easily impressed by castles and palaces and numerous pubs in between, including the World's End pub (site of the famous World's End Murders.
What is all this gibberish about? Why it's Next Blog Tuesday! Where else would I find all this Scottish inspiration than at Up Yer Kilt, today's Next Blog.
Up Yer Kilt is chock-full of Scots words, which look like gibberish to me. Fortunately, the author provides a link to a dictionary for translation purposes. Unfortunately, I was too lazy to look them up. I was, however, able to piece together than one of his posts involved "a fair bulk o a man" in boxer shorts on his porch with police in the wee hours o tha morn. Sounded interesting but not interesting enough to continue.
The best part of the blog? No sheep being taken advantage of. Second best? The "Things to Do in Boring Office Meetings" post. This one was in English (cut and pasted from a Yank site, no doubt). My favorites included: "Bring a hug jar of Vaseline to the meeting. Display it prominently", and "Bring an doughnut cushion to sit on", and having a poor looking young woman with a baby interrupt the meeting, stare at the speaker, then cry and leave. Good stuff. Do they even work in Scotland? I thought all the did was wear kilts, drink beer and eat haggis.
I did realize there is a word for me in Scottish: gash-gabbit. Look it up.
All this Scottish stuff reminded me of my time in England when I would take the bus up to Edinburgh to meet my Scottish crush, Ian King. When I met Ian he was in the Royal Navy and we were working on a joint task force project outside of London together. I was a wee 18 and living it up after the Gulf War (part 1). By the time I left England, Ian was unemployed, lived with his parents and smoked like a chimney. I called him "Nosmo". Get it? Nosmo King? Yes, I've always been like this. I can't remember what I liked about him other than hanging out at the pub together until one of us fell off our barstool or he was asked to leave. And his mother's stinky couch that I slept on in Edinburgh (I was still innocent back then). Oh, and hiking up to the top of some hill in the dark when it was freezing one night where Ian began singing then fell over and rolled down about twenty feet. One thing about Ian: I never saw him wear a kilt.
Tuesday, February 08, 2005
Hurry up and date.
As promised, last Thursday L and I attended the free speed dating promotion being put on by Ventura County Fast Dating at the local brewery. My intent was to go and observe the madness whilst smugly snickering behind a pint of ale. As you may have guessed, I soon became one of the snickerees. No sooner had I grabbed a pint than I was wearing a name tag and assigned a table. How I get myself into these things is beyond me but it was good to get L out and conversing with men other than relatives and neighbors.
Keep in mind that this promotion was advertised on country radio and open to the public. Add to that the fact that it took place at a brewery and you are certain to get a good mix of freaks. And then there was the fact that the people putting it on were grabbing anyone and everyone off the streets and you can imagine the dating pool.
As soon as they had wrangled in and branded nine men and nine women, including yours truly, they laid out the ground rules. Everyone was numbered. The tables were numbered. Ladies would stay at the table corresponding with their respective number while the men started at the table with their number then moved to the next table in proper order. It was so refreshing to meet a man I knew would be moving on to the next woman. Each man would spend three minutes at each table. When the three minutes were up a whistle would be blown and the musical chairs would begin. We were given charts to fill out and check "yes" or "no" if we were interested in someone as a match, or just as a friend, or not at all. There was also a space for notes. The service would notify mutual matches and exchange e-mail addresses between us. If you checked yes and the other person checked no, they send the nay-sayer your information and leave it to him or her as to whether or not to contact you. Sounds simple enough, right?
Round 1 found me a table #1 with Aaron, a 60-something married man who was there for his birthday dinner with his wife and friends. They signed him up as a joke and were conveniently seated adjacent to my table making comments like the two guys in the balcony during The Muppet Show. This allowed them to monitor my entire procession and give me advice in between victims. In the end they determined that I was best suited for their son in Colorado, even asked for my number. Really folks, are they that desparate there too?
Next up was Mike, a guy in a Harley Davidson shirt with flames on it. I immediately told him he looked hot. I'm not sure he got it and he did end up marking me as a match. Give a guy a compliment and he's all yours. Actually, he was nice and reminded me of one of my brother's friends. He said I looked familiar but had never been to China so I don't know where he knew me from. I do tend to get around.
After Mike there were two young boys, both very cute but too young for me. They had been roped in by the hostesses. Next was Gary, a mentally challenged man with a dog named Booger. I'm not kidding about the challenged part. His mom had dropped him off to get some social interaction. Not surprisingly, his conversation was more interesting than some of the other guys. The rest in round one were nondescript middle-aged guys either recently separated or recently divorced. None asked me many questions about who I am or what I like but that's just self-centered me wanting all the attention again. The last guy however, Greg, sat down and grabbed my hands and said he thought I was beautiful and wonderful and knew we were destined to be together from the moment he saw me and that he loved me. I asked if he wanted to know my name or anything and he said he wasn't interested. Then he told me he was rich and would buy me a car. I've got to give him credit - he only had three minutes to work and definitely laid out his intentions. He was later seen making out with a blond who had grabbed her boobs and proclaimed something at the start of Round 3. So much for spending our lives together.
I stayed for Round 2 because, well, it was fun and L said she wanted to stay, and what the heck?
Round 2 had a few of the same folks as round 1: Mike and Gary. It also had Trevor, who I found to be a bit strange. He had bandages on one hand and explained that he had tripped over the tv cord and fallen into a window. All the while he was talking to me he was doing some sort of odd simple-man's flirt with the lady at the table next to me. I offered to switch seats lest they have a true connection but she seemed horrified at the thought of it. I later learned from L that Trevor was a product of the foster care system. How she learned that in three minutes is beyond me.
Round 2 looked primising when I saw Phil, a nice, clean cut mid-30's guy who promptly used the entire three minutes to give me his resume. At the end I merely asked what position he was applying for. He seemed perplexed. Amazingly, he checked me as a match. I must have seemed intriguing and mysterious. Also in Round 2 was Rodger, a tall, good-looking Aussie. I knew he was trouble when he proclaimed that he came to the brewery so often that he had his own personalized mug with something about a kangaroo on it. I'm always suspicious of men who are into marsupials. Something about the pouch. He also knew way too much about kangaroo sex. Really, who even ponders kangaroo sex? Oh yeah, Australians...
After Round 2 I attempted to sit down with L and PDM (formerly MM), who had shown up and been roped in to Round 2 by the event hostesses. They were seated at a table and I was about to sit down with the hostesses told me they needed one more lady. I hesitated then sat down for another round, there were only 8 people in this round, four of whom I had met. Round 3 saw Rodger, Phil, Gary, and Trevor again. And some other little Navy guy with a very disturbing smile who was allergic to dander. His smile looked like an angry chihuahua and frightened me. That and the fact that within three minuts he was willing to get weekly shots so he could be around my pets. I appreciated his devotion but his snarling while feigning interest in my pygmy goats was too much. There were also two guys in Round 3 that spent too much time explaining that this was their first time doing this. I knew they were lying because they were very familiar with the hostesses. One was too effeminate for my tastes, and did not know how to spell very well. Yes, I peeked at his copious notes and the editor in me, that never checks my own blog material, immediately found fault. His friend, a man unable to make eye contact and with hair like a Brillo pad, claimed to work with troubled teens. When I told him I teach the little delinquents and mentioned the program I teach through he got very defensive and said he was retired from it...Those were three of the longest long minutes of the night.
Of course, the highlight of the evening was an odoriferous and bizarre, possibly even disturbed man. He was wearing a hat and sweatshirt from Ventura College so I asked what he was studying. He said he was getting is bachelor's in SCUBA diving. I said I didn't know they had degrees in that to which he replied, "it's a special program" and then went into becoming a photographer even though he'd never owned a camera. The worst part was that my table was in a corner and someone farted while he was there. I'm not saying who, but it was bad. That, compounded by the diver's B.O. did not help the ambiance. He continued to tell me he travelled a lot. When I asked where he said Europe. Having been to Europe I inquired about where in Europe and he assumed a strange, Vincent Price voice and said Norway and Greece. That he lived there for 12 years. Yep, you guessed it, he thought I was a match too.
With that my first, and last, encounter with speed dating concluded. I had a much-needed pint and realized I had just relived in two hours what I had been trying to forget for 32 years.
Keep in mind that this promotion was advertised on country radio and open to the public. Add to that the fact that it took place at a brewery and you are certain to get a good mix of freaks. And then there was the fact that the people putting it on were grabbing anyone and everyone off the streets and you can imagine the dating pool.
As soon as they had wrangled in and branded nine men and nine women, including yours truly, they laid out the ground rules. Everyone was numbered. The tables were numbered. Ladies would stay at the table corresponding with their respective number while the men started at the table with their number then moved to the next table in proper order. It was so refreshing to meet a man I knew would be moving on to the next woman. Each man would spend three minutes at each table. When the three minutes were up a whistle would be blown and the musical chairs would begin. We were given charts to fill out and check "yes" or "no" if we were interested in someone as a match, or just as a friend, or not at all. There was also a space for notes. The service would notify mutual matches and exchange e-mail addresses between us. If you checked yes and the other person checked no, they send the nay-sayer your information and leave it to him or her as to whether or not to contact you. Sounds simple enough, right?
Round 1 found me a table #1 with Aaron, a 60-something married man who was there for his birthday dinner with his wife and friends. They signed him up as a joke and were conveniently seated adjacent to my table making comments like the two guys in the balcony during The Muppet Show. This allowed them to monitor my entire procession and give me advice in between victims. In the end they determined that I was best suited for their son in Colorado, even asked for my number. Really folks, are they that desparate there too?
Next up was Mike, a guy in a Harley Davidson shirt with flames on it. I immediately told him he looked hot. I'm not sure he got it and he did end up marking me as a match. Give a guy a compliment and he's all yours. Actually, he was nice and reminded me of one of my brother's friends. He said I looked familiar but had never been to China so I don't know where he knew me from. I do tend to get around.
After Mike there were two young boys, both very cute but too young for me. They had been roped in by the hostesses. Next was Gary, a mentally challenged man with a dog named Booger. I'm not kidding about the challenged part. His mom had dropped him off to get some social interaction. Not surprisingly, his conversation was more interesting than some of the other guys. The rest in round one were nondescript middle-aged guys either recently separated or recently divorced. None asked me many questions about who I am or what I like but that's just self-centered me wanting all the attention again. The last guy however, Greg, sat down and grabbed my hands and said he thought I was beautiful and wonderful and knew we were destined to be together from the moment he saw me and that he loved me. I asked if he wanted to know my name or anything and he said he wasn't interested. Then he told me he was rich and would buy me a car. I've got to give him credit - he only had three minutes to work and definitely laid out his intentions. He was later seen making out with a blond who had grabbed her boobs and proclaimed something at the start of Round 3. So much for spending our lives together.
I stayed for Round 2 because, well, it was fun and L said she wanted to stay, and what the heck?
Round 2 had a few of the same folks as round 1: Mike and Gary. It also had Trevor, who I found to be a bit strange. He had bandages on one hand and explained that he had tripped over the tv cord and fallen into a window. All the while he was talking to me he was doing some sort of odd simple-man's flirt with the lady at the table next to me. I offered to switch seats lest they have a true connection but she seemed horrified at the thought of it. I later learned from L that Trevor was a product of the foster care system. How she learned that in three minutes is beyond me.
Round 2 looked primising when I saw Phil, a nice, clean cut mid-30's guy who promptly used the entire three minutes to give me his resume. At the end I merely asked what position he was applying for. He seemed perplexed. Amazingly, he checked me as a match. I must have seemed intriguing and mysterious. Also in Round 2 was Rodger, a tall, good-looking Aussie. I knew he was trouble when he proclaimed that he came to the brewery so often that he had his own personalized mug with something about a kangaroo on it. I'm always suspicious of men who are into marsupials. Something about the pouch. He also knew way too much about kangaroo sex. Really, who even ponders kangaroo sex? Oh yeah, Australians...
After Round 2 I attempted to sit down with L and PDM (formerly MM), who had shown up and been roped in to Round 2 by the event hostesses. They were seated at a table and I was about to sit down with the hostesses told me they needed one more lady. I hesitated then sat down for another round, there were only 8 people in this round, four of whom I had met. Round 3 saw Rodger, Phil, Gary, and Trevor again. And some other little Navy guy with a very disturbing smile who was allergic to dander. His smile looked like an angry chihuahua and frightened me. That and the fact that within three minuts he was willing to get weekly shots so he could be around my pets. I appreciated his devotion but his snarling while feigning interest in my pygmy goats was too much. There were also two guys in Round 3 that spent too much time explaining that this was their first time doing this. I knew they were lying because they were very familiar with the hostesses. One was too effeminate for my tastes, and did not know how to spell very well. Yes, I peeked at his copious notes and the editor in me, that never checks my own blog material, immediately found fault. His friend, a man unable to make eye contact and with hair like a Brillo pad, claimed to work with troubled teens. When I told him I teach the little delinquents and mentioned the program I teach through he got very defensive and said he was retired from it...Those were three of the longest long minutes of the night.
Of course, the highlight of the evening was an odoriferous and bizarre, possibly even disturbed man. He was wearing a hat and sweatshirt from Ventura College so I asked what he was studying. He said he was getting is bachelor's in SCUBA diving. I said I didn't know they had degrees in that to which he replied, "it's a special program" and then went into becoming a photographer even though he'd never owned a camera. The worst part was that my table was in a corner and someone farted while he was there. I'm not saying who, but it was bad. That, compounded by the diver's B.O. did not help the ambiance. He continued to tell me he travelled a lot. When I asked where he said Europe. Having been to Europe I inquired about where in Europe and he assumed a strange, Vincent Price voice and said Norway and Greece. That he lived there for 12 years. Yep, you guessed it, he thought I was a match too.
With that my first, and last, encounter with speed dating concluded. I had a much-needed pint and realized I had just relived in two hours what I had been trying to forget for 32 years.
Monday, February 07, 2005
Just what we needed...
...yet another excuse to get drunk and stumble around town.
Sunday was the annual Superbowl Pub Crawl in Ventura. My day began with a 9:15 am phone call from a club member asking where I was with the beer for the start. Of course, the "run" was to begin at 10:00 and I was still home in bed. Silly me.
Upon arrival I was greeting with demands for better beer (people expect a lot for $5 these days...) and then kudos for bringing Jello shots in the colors of the teams competing that day. Is there really any other way to kick off a Sunday morning than chasing a tequila with lime Jello shot with a Miller Lite? There is something about Jello, cheap booze and whipped cream that makes everything all right. After the cooler was emptied by the participants we headed off on the pub crawl. I was staying sober as I was driving the beer and bag wagon so I followed along on foot for a few miles then turned back to go pick up the truck and meet the frightening crew en route for round two of the Jello shots. Five or six bars later, the group arrived (barely) at a sports bar just in time for kick off.
I have never actually watched the Superbowl and let me just say I was more confused than anything. First off, when you are in a sports bar for the game, you can expect not to hear anything. So when I saw Michael Douglas on screen I wasn't sure we were on the right station. I still don't know what his role was in the game. Then there were Bill Clinton and George the Elder. What the heck were they doing there? I couldn't hear a thing until the bartender screamed for silence so we could hear the national anthem. I felt very American as I sat at the bar drinking my imported beer surrounded by drunks with a lottery game on the screen next to the one playing the anthem while displaying a flag billowing in the wind. Rarely have I felt so patriotic.
I missed the kick off because someone was painting my fingernails green to show support for the Eagles. The game itself was lame. Men in tights and knee highs running a few feet then hitting eachother. Oh, and the dances in the end zone were priceless. Don't these men know how stupid they look? Because I couldn't stomach watching the game I took to watching the spectators. Highlight of my experience included dispatching a search party to locate one inebriated club member only to find him walking out of the women's restroom. When we pointed out that he had been in the women's restroom he merely commented, "No wonder is was so clean and quiet in there."
Another highlight was watching three club members vie for the affections of a cross dresser. Three of us sober folks watched as the three men made advances toward the 6'4", wearing-a-choker-to-hide-the-adam's-apple, large handed vixen. Of course, we encouraged their antics so we could watch things unfold. At one point we caught a new guy, J, propped up against a pinball machine by the she-man. Later, he was seen in the parking lot with her, er, him, er, whatever. I just wonder how he's feeling this morning...
After the game we parted company. I was starving and stopped at my favorite pizza place for a slice. They were so slow they had no slices so I had to get a whole pie. While waiting I chatted up the two boys that work there. They were upset at having to stay until close and bored out of their minds. After checking their ID's, I took them out to the truck and gave them some of the leftover beer from the days' events. You'd have thought I was Santa Claus, well maybe not if you were their employer. Then you'd have thought I was an evil cheap-beer-donating employee ruiner. Either way, it was fun and they were grateful.
Sunday was the annual Superbowl Pub Crawl in Ventura. My day began with a 9:15 am phone call from a club member asking where I was with the beer for the start. Of course, the "run" was to begin at 10:00 and I was still home in bed. Silly me.
Upon arrival I was greeting with demands for better beer (people expect a lot for $5 these days...) and then kudos for bringing Jello shots in the colors of the teams competing that day. Is there really any other way to kick off a Sunday morning than chasing a tequila with lime Jello shot with a Miller Lite? There is something about Jello, cheap booze and whipped cream that makes everything all right. After the cooler was emptied by the participants we headed off on the pub crawl. I was staying sober as I was driving the beer and bag wagon so I followed along on foot for a few miles then turned back to go pick up the truck and meet the frightening crew en route for round two of the Jello shots. Five or six bars later, the group arrived (barely) at a sports bar just in time for kick off.
I have never actually watched the Superbowl and let me just say I was more confused than anything. First off, when you are in a sports bar for the game, you can expect not to hear anything. So when I saw Michael Douglas on screen I wasn't sure we were on the right station. I still don't know what his role was in the game. Then there were Bill Clinton and George the Elder. What the heck were they doing there? I couldn't hear a thing until the bartender screamed for silence so we could hear the national anthem. I felt very American as I sat at the bar drinking my imported beer surrounded by drunks with a lottery game on the screen next to the one playing the anthem while displaying a flag billowing in the wind. Rarely have I felt so patriotic.
I missed the kick off because someone was painting my fingernails green to show support for the Eagles. The game itself was lame. Men in tights and knee highs running a few feet then hitting eachother. Oh, and the dances in the end zone were priceless. Don't these men know how stupid they look? Because I couldn't stomach watching the game I took to watching the spectators. Highlight of my experience included dispatching a search party to locate one inebriated club member only to find him walking out of the women's restroom. When we pointed out that he had been in the women's restroom he merely commented, "No wonder is was so clean and quiet in there."
Another highlight was watching three club members vie for the affections of a cross dresser. Three of us sober folks watched as the three men made advances toward the 6'4", wearing-a-choker-to-hide-the-adam's-apple, large handed vixen. Of course, we encouraged their antics so we could watch things unfold. At one point we caught a new guy, J, propped up against a pinball machine by the she-man. Later, he was seen in the parking lot with her, er, him, er, whatever. I just wonder how he's feeling this morning...
After the game we parted company. I was starving and stopped at my favorite pizza place for a slice. They were so slow they had no slices so I had to get a whole pie. While waiting I chatted up the two boys that work there. They were upset at having to stay until close and bored out of their minds. After checking their ID's, I took them out to the truck and gave them some of the leftover beer from the days' events. You'd have thought I was Santa Claus, well maybe not if you were their employer. Then you'd have thought I was an evil cheap-beer-donating employee ruiner. Either way, it was fun and they were grateful.
Thursday, February 03, 2005
Boom Boom Sanders
Oklahoma legislators are trying to reinstate one of the state's favorite spectator sports - cockfighting - by mandating the use of tiny boxing gloves and safety vests on the chickens.
Not only do I find this hilarious, but possibly fortuitous for me seeing as how I am both the former fried chicken spokesperson of southern China and a scrawny wanna-be amateur boxer. I need to update my resume and get in on this $100-million industry.
Not only do I find this hilarious, but possibly fortuitous for me seeing as how I am both the former fried chicken spokesperson of southern China and a scrawny wanna-be amateur boxer. I need to update my resume and get in on this $100-million industry.
Courtship & Amphetamines
I usually listen to NPR or Howard Stern during my morning commute. What that says about me, I am not sure, but it keeps me amusing and informed.
This morning, our local NPR affiliate, KCRW was in the throes of its winter fundraising drive. I already pledged and am, quite frankly, sick of having my free programming interrupted every 30 seconds with another great offer if you pledge in the next 30 minutes. This morning's big draw? Nine gift certificates to the 99 cent store...Glad I got the 10 CD pack.
Whenever I am dissatisfied with NPR's offering during the commute I switch to Howard Stern, where I either tune in just in time for a 30 minute commercial break or am lucky and catch the shock jock doing a bit in between commercial breaks. Today I caught him between breaks but he was doing a bit where a desparately single Jewish girl was earning $1,000 and the right not to be called annoying by Howard by allowing a turgid man to fart on her face 500 times in 10 minutes. As stimulating as this may seem to some of you, I opted to tune outat number 24.
I switched to my third alternate, the local country station, KHAY. They too were in the midst of mindless babble but something caught my ear...Speed dating in Ventura County tonight at the local brewery. I had heard this was coming to town and considered signing up but never followed through. And now that I know the location of the event, I figure I can just show up and watch the carnage.
So I called a couple of friends and we are meeting at the brewery this evening to watch the speed dating in progress and then snatch any eligible singles. The whole concept of speed dating intrigues me, just not enough to spend $35 to gamble on it. Besides, given the number of dated I've been on in this county in the past 6 1/2 years, it's likely I would be matched up with someone already adjudicated to be unsuitable for me. Anyhow, that experience should provide some new fodder for the blog by tomorrow...
This morning, our local NPR affiliate, KCRW was in the throes of its winter fundraising drive. I already pledged and am, quite frankly, sick of having my free programming interrupted every 30 seconds with another great offer if you pledge in the next 30 minutes. This morning's big draw? Nine gift certificates to the 99 cent store...Glad I got the 10 CD pack.
Whenever I am dissatisfied with NPR's offering during the commute I switch to Howard Stern, where I either tune in just in time for a 30 minute commercial break or am lucky and catch the shock jock doing a bit in between commercial breaks. Today I caught him between breaks but he was doing a bit where a desparately single Jewish girl was earning $1,000 and the right not to be called annoying by Howard by allowing a turgid man to fart on her face 500 times in 10 minutes. As stimulating as this may seem to some of you, I opted to tune outat number 24.
I switched to my third alternate, the local country station, KHAY. They too were in the midst of mindless babble but something caught my ear...Speed dating in Ventura County tonight at the local brewery. I had heard this was coming to town and considered signing up but never followed through. And now that I know the location of the event, I figure I can just show up and watch the carnage.
So I called a couple of friends and we are meeting at the brewery this evening to watch the speed dating in progress and then snatch any eligible singles. The whole concept of speed dating intrigues me, just not enough to spend $35 to gamble on it. Besides, given the number of dated I've been on in this county in the past 6 1/2 years, it's likely I would be matched up with someone already adjudicated to be unsuitable for me. Anyhow, that experience should provide some new fodder for the blog by tomorrow...
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