Posts Tagged ‘Wildwood’

Strange things are afoot at the Circle K

Wednesday, September 23rd, 2009

I’m on a real roll.

The condo was a couple blocks from the beach...but then the water came to us!!!

The condo was a couple blocks from the beach...but then the water came to us!!!

Wait, let me rephrase: Mysterious supernatural forces are doing strange things to the blog, and I am seemingly powerless to stop them. I wonder if George Carlin has got his own magical telephone booth in heaven? That would certainly clear up some of the mystery.

(Does anyone have any idea what I’m talking about? I’m going to leave this as-is, regardless, but I do realize I’m being a bit obtuse. Okay, very obtuse. Unless you love Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure. Then you know exactly what I’m talking about, and I can add this thought, and you’ll appreciate it: This is a dude who, 700 years ago, totally ravaged China, and who, we were told, two hours ago totally ravaged Oshman’s Sporting Goods.)

What a lovely day to sit in a beach chair and read a book. Amazing how the crowds thin out when a little horrific weather blows in!

What a lovely day to sit in a beach chair and read a book. Amazing how the crowds thin out when a little torrential rain blows in!

That stated, to anyone wondering if you’ve recently seen an inadvisable and slightly alarming photo of me that may or may not be misinterpreted such that it could’ve been a feature spread in an oversized vegetable skin rag…you were imaging things. It’s not here now, is it?

So clearly it never existed.

That’s the rule: You don’t see it now, it never happened.

This is my blog. I make whatever freaking rules I want.

In other news, perhaps you thought you read  a rambling snippet of a blog idea (which was going to be about my duress at having two of my treasured childhood books made into movies and released within weeks of each other: Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs and Where the Wild Things Are. Why must they keep destroying everything I loved??? Were Land of the Lost and A Wrinkle in Time not enough? It’s probably a matter of minutes before someone redoes Mary Poppins with the kids from High School Musical)?

The idiot lifeguards were cruising all over the beach in their truck...until they drove it into a sink hole.

The idiot lifeguards were cruising all over the beach in their truck...until they drove it into a sink hole.

Anyway, diatribe aside, apparently someone snuck into my house in the middle of the night and hit the ‘publish’ button instead of the ‘save draft’ button (the ‘publish button is dark blue and so very alluring. It’s understandable. Right???) and left that tripe up there for several unauthorized hours.

In fact, I think that same person had something to do with the photo that never was.

And yes, that same person is my semi-functional and not very clever middle of the night alter-ego, who – for the good of us all – should be sent to bed by 11pm and never, ever be allowed around the blog again.

Making some chicken picatta for dinner.

Making some chicken picatta for dinner.

So I’ll get to work on that. (Note to self: purchase vast array of ropes, handcuffs, and sleeping pills…and possibly a gag of some sort, lest I decide to take up vlogging at 2am.)

In the meantime, forget about what you may or may not have seen.

Push it out of your pretty little head, and enjoy some random photos my father sent me from our trip a couple weeks ago. Mazal tov!

p.s.

Did anyone see the footage of that red dust storm in Sydney? Or is anyone in Sydney?
Craziness.

I imagine the Swiffer duster people are about to make some serious bank. If they sell Swiffers in Australia? No? How about Pledge?

p.p.s.

Has anyone seen Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs? Was it good? Did you read the book, too? Did you LOVE the book, and wished you lived in Chewandswallow? Can you still see the image of the fancy couple eating overcooked broccoli in a fine restaurant in your mind?

Can you? CAN YOU???

I loved that book so friggin’ much.

I went through this phase where I was obsessed with my tape recorder and would record EVERYTHING (For example: I would record myself reading the Sunday comics out loud and describing them. And yes, that’s as painful as it sounds), and my dad would sometimes play along. I remember one tape (that I listened to over and over) where he gave these fake weather reports from all over the world, and it was raining fish and rice in Japan!

I just feel like there’s no way they could do justice to my treasured childhood memory with a movie.

Especially a movie where Mr. T provides one of the voices.  ***shudder***

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It’s all fun and games, until you end up in the blog

Saturday, September 12th, 2009

If my dad is adamant about one thing, it’s that he doesn’t want to show up in the blog…which is a sorry shame, because I would have so much more material if he would ease up on that rule.

What a photogenic bunch. (And Dad, if this is a problem, Photoshop some other heads onto yours and send it to me, and I'll replace it!)

What a photogenic bunch. (And Dad, if this is a problem, Photoshop some other heads onto yours, and I'll replace it!)

Regardless, I still have to tell you this little story (and I don’t think it makes anyone look bad, so hopefully I won’t get in trouble for doing so!)

After a quick break, a slight digression: Have you ever gone to the bathroom and tried and tried to zip your jeans only to realize they’re already zipped? How the hell did that happen? How did I get them off and back on zipped up? Or did I zip them somehow without ever consciously realizing it? Weird.

So back to the story, we’re here in Wildwood and (to everyone’s chagrin) there’s some kind of motorcycle rally in town, called Roar to the Shore (Not to be confused with Roar at the Shore in Erie, PA. The shore being Lake Erie, I suppose, which is actually kind of sad. I’m not into trying to convince myself that a lake – no matter how large – is the same thing as being at the shore).

Point being, there’s an estimated 100,000 to 150,000 rough-looking people on a mix of motorcycles and choppers, and if you’ve ever seen Gimme Shelter, you have a healthy respect for (and certain amount of fear of) the Hell’s Angels.

This is what you get when your brother takes pictures for you. This is the best shot of the bunch. Unfortunately.

This is what you get when your brother takes pictures for you. This is the best shot of the bunch. Unfortunately.

However, before they got here and started intimidating us (or me, anyway. I have no idea if anyone else is intimidated, but I figure any man in his sixties in a 100% leather outfit and wispy white  hair down to his butt is trying to warn me that he’s got some screws loose. And the lady with the Cruella de Ville hair? Also trying to send me a message akin to a fluorescent orange frog to a potential predator. I have been warned, and I will heed said warning). So anyway, before they all got here, we were checking out the convention center where they were setting up for the festivities.

I personally have never been to a convention where there’s a Jack Daniels semi-truck offering ‘free tours’ (free bourbon???), but I guess that would be a tough sell at a banking convention (or maybe not. Some of those people can throw them back like you wouldn’t believe. One of the drunkest nights of my life occurred at the Bank Administration Institute’s Retail Delivery conference in New Orleans. I spent the next day barfing in the convention center bathroom…but not before drunk dialing my boss. True story.)

Anyway, if you’ve ever wondered why I’m so sarcastic and inappropriate, I’ll have you know you can blame it on my family.

You see, there’s a Miss Roar to the Shore Biker Babe contest, and my dad is egging me on to enter it. Actually, to be fair – and accurate – he’s urging me to be a double winner (“Everybody loves a double winner!!!”) and take that trophy as well as a Walking Poker Run (whatever that means. How can you walk and run and play poker at the same time?)

Then, in jest, he was trying to get my brother to change his flight to stay and support me.

“Just tell them, my sister is in a wet t-shirt contest, so I have to change my flight. It’s going to be classic!”

Then there was some discussion of my dad’s girlfriend going up against me (with the pseudonym of Candy, due to her passionate love of The Fudge Kitchen), but I’ll stop the anecdote right there to protect the innocent.

Unfortunately, my dreams of being Biker Babe 2009 are probably not going to come true for a number of reasons:

1. I don’t own a leather (or even a pleather) bikini.

2. I don’t have a single tattoo, and the only temporary tattoos I could find featured fairies.

3. I’m afraid of bikers.

The t-shirt looked a lot like this. Except it was a drawing. And there was foam around his mouth. But you get the idea.

The t-shirt looked a lot like this. Except it was a drawing. And there was foam around his mouth. But you get the idea.

I’d rather this town was hosting a wild mongrel dog convention than a biker convention. I’d feel less intimidated. Nonetheless, in the spirit of “if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em,” I went in search of some clothing that might help me fit in. Although I found a t-shirt with a horrible, scary, snarling Rottweiler with a spiked collar and the words “Till Death Do Us Part” (What the hell does that mean? Because from the looks of that dog, one of us is about to die any minute now),  I ended up buying some Cookie Monster booty shorts instead (blue shorts with the Cookie Monster’s face on the butt. Very mature and appropriate for fine restaurants) and red child’s hoodie (that fits me perfectly! And for only $12 because it’s kids clothes. This could revolutionize my clothing budget), which is probably proof of a latent desire to not fit in with that crowd.

If anything (reviewing what I just read above), it sounds more like I’m trying to fit in with the elementary school set instead. Emotionally, that’s about right. As I’ve already told you, I have the taste of a 12-year old boy. The other upside? At least I’d live through competing to be “Miss Sesame Street 2009″ without getting shanked…

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