Tag: Humor

Travelin’ Mr./Mrs. Daisy

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This post is intended to help you learn how to travel with your parents.  Once your parents are eligible for social security, something happens.  I don’t know what it is.  But trust me.  Here are some handy dandy tips to make your family travel experience smoother.

1.  Guidebook Dilemma

Most of us use guidebooks to prepare and use for travel.  It makes sense to follow the advice of someone who has been there, done that.  Unless you are my Dad.  I swear by Rick Steves.  His guidebooks have always provided me with helpful tips.  However, a map (usually hand drawn in the books) was off/unclear during our trip to Rome.  Which meant that Rick can’t be trusted to tell you the time of day.  Sorry, Rick.  You had your chance.  No second chances with Mr. Daisy.  My Dad acts like he suffers from Rick Steves PTSD.  When I suggest some international destination to visit, his response is, “Did Steve Bob’s recommend that?”  Because he is not going to get Rick’s name right.  That’s what happens when you have 2 first names & you mess up directions.

My Mom, however, has to find every book related to the country we plan to visit.  I usually stick with the big 3:  Rick Steves, Lonely Planet or Eyewitness Travels.  She found The Cadogan Guide to Morocco by Barnaby Rogerson on Amazon.  This guide has a bit more color than usual guides. For instance, Mr. Rogerson says the following about sexual attitudes in Morocco, “”Moroccans also tend to think of themselves as immeasurably more virile & potent than Western men. However chaste your intentions, why not pack some condoms beside the sun cream and romantic fiction?” Really, Barnaby? Now I have to put an “elderly lock” on my Mom’s laptop.

Do yourself a favor and just handle all the travel and prep.  Monitor their internet & tv usage because this can lead to trouble.  Retired people find time to explore & become scholars based on the latest gossip from “Spacebook”.  My Dad has become an international travel expert based solely on 60 Minutes reports from Mike Wallace that aired 15 years ago.  It doesn’t matter if you have been there and he hasn’t.  You don’t know the real deal.  Don’t become a victim.  You will only get confused trying to wade thru their attempt at using hip jargon.  My Dad can’t grasp the concept of BFFs.  He keeps saying BSFF…like it’s Best Super Friends Forever.  I don’t know.  See how I just got sucked into that?

Only 8 kilometers? Whatchu talkin' bout, Willis? That should say 12!

The look they give you when you suggest something “exotic”.

2.  You’re Taking Me Where?

Not all elderly parents (and by elderly, I mean anybody older than you) can handle “exotic” trips to Miami.  I blame Mike Wallace.  My Dad isn’t into traveling to Africa and Italy was full of too many basilicas.  When I suggested London, I was met with “I don’t want to look at butter teeth.”  I tried to explain that their dental care has improved since the 1800’s but Mike can’t verify that since he passed away.  I then attempted to talk my Dad into going on a safari.  His response?  “I haven’t lost anything in Africa.”  See a pattern?  Don’t try to force it, kids.  Let your parents go on a jazz cruise where they can fall asleep on the Lido Deck after slurping down a 189 ounce daiquiri while listening to the sleepy time music of Brian Culbertson.

Now, if you happen to have an adventurous parent, keep it in perspective.  Your type of adventure isn’t theirs.  There will be no backpacking or taking public transportation.  Understand that now.  You can’t make your mother walk 3 blocks after she spent 202 hours in labor with you 40 years ago.  You are still paying on that.  It’s like labor layaway.  Ease them into the adventure.  Morgan Freeman didn’t tell Miss Daisy to take MARTA.  He made sure she was comfortable and that her needs were attended to.

3.  Once, Twice, Three Times Too Much

Some parents like to overpack.  You know how you grew up hearing, “You can’t ever be too prepared”?  That is a lie.  You can be too prepared.  Don’t fall for that.  And, the older they get, the more “prepared” they get.  During one trip, the guidebook said we should plan to bring toilet tissue as some bathrooms may not have any.  I bought a 24 pack of Tush Wipes and told my Mom not to worry about that.  So why did she show up with 3 rolls of toilet paper?  I don’t know.  Apparently, 24 wipes + 3 rolls of Quilted Northern seemed like the right amount for a 12 day trip for 2 people.  Don’t let your parents take a Sam’s Club approach to packing.  You’ll be the one hauling it around.  Remember, labor layaway.  Some things you can’t get around.  Do you remember Titanic when Rose came on the ship at the beginning of the movie and had 44 trunks and 132 picture frames?  That is what you are battling against.  Don’t let your Mom bring every item from Magellans…or your Dad bring his tool belt because you never know when something will need to be fixed.  Have an intervention if you need to.  Because if you don’t, Delta will.

4.  Picture Time

I took a travel photography class to learn how to capture creative images that don’t look like Honey Boo Boo took them.  This requires setting up your shot…which means you must have patience.  Especially for someone new at it.  I’ve got some news for you.  Elderly parents aren’t patient.  They don’t have time to wait on you to set up a shot.  Take the picture as you are walking.  Who cares if it is blurry.  That’s your fault.  Practice walking and clicking.

The deluxe “ghetto”

5.  25 Star Hotels

Elderly parents have a Kanye West mindset to travel.  Which means that 5 star hotels may not be enough.  Ask yourself this question…Would Oprah stay there?  If you are not 100% certain, then find someplace else.  Yeah, you might have to sell yourself on the streets but that’s what happens.  Labor Layaway.  That’s the Big Joker to any argument you may have.  Parents will always win.  You can’t make your Mom stay someplace that is 4 stars after you ripped her open and then refused to sleep thru the night for weeks.

For example, my Mom and I did the 5 star hotel option for our recent trip to Morocco.  Which included an upgrade to a deluxe tent in the Sahara Desert.  The tent had 2 twin beds (complete with mattresses on frames), bathroom (which included a shower) and sitting room.  But, it is a tent…in the Sahara.  My Mom was like, “What is this?”  I don’t know if she thought there was a Ritz Carlton – Sahara or what.  Now, in my mind, I had already prepared myself for the fact that I would encounter a bug or 2.  I already had my Avon Skin So Soft and Off (courtesy of my Mom).  The operators had the nerve to shut the power off at night so my Mom couldn’t keep the lights on for fear that bats would swoop in, turn into Dracula, and bite us.  What would happen if we turned into vampires?  We didn’t have any True Blood in our emergency preparedness kit (there wasn’t enough space with all the toilet paper).  Around 1am, I awake to my Mom screaming about scorpions.  She’s got her flashlight on and pointed towards her face like it’s the Moroccan Blair Witch Project.  I’m trying to figure out what is going on.  I mean, I know she isn’t serious.  I must be dreaming this.  Did my mint tea have another type of herb in it?  I’m confused.  At this point, she has moved into my twin bed and made the proclamation that she will NEVER sleep in that bed again because there is a scorpion the size of a “cow” in it.  But, before I could find Bessie the Scorpion and lead her out of the tent, my Mom wanted me to see if her arm was swelling.  Sigh.  After confirming that there was no swelling, I check the bed and can’t find the Velociraptor-sized scorpion.  I did see a big cockroach though.  Lest you think we are going to sleep peacefully together in a small twin bed, I’ve got news for you…we are not.  Labor layaway requires counseling sessions as well.  And, my Mom had to question why there was no actual door on the tent.  You read that right.  And, I’m sure that will go into the survey feedback she is working on right now.  See, as you get older, things don’t have to make sense.  A tent in the Sahara to young people means just that.  But to older people?  It means a cottage with a fireplace, butler and an exterminator on speed dial.

I’m pretty sure it was the Scorpion King who came into the tent.

6.  Hustled

Hustlers target older people because it’s easy.  Older people don’t like to be hassled and would prefer to pay you 110% more than you deserve just to get you to leave them alone.  Younger people?  We will protest on basic principle.  If the guidebook says that you should tip $2 to a porter for getting your bags out of the car, you can best believe that that is what you are going to get if there is nothing exceptional about the service.  Are they pushing the luggage up a hill?  Okay, they get extra.  But to take my luggage that I lugged all the way thru the airport and just move it from my hand to the trunk?  TWO DOLLARS, buddy.  But, this philosophy can only work when you aren’t traveling with older parents.  Just pay the man.  I don’t care that you had to ask your guide to go to Lowes – Marrakesh to find a storm door for the tent.  Make it rain.

7.  Trying Something New

Not all parents will try something new.  My Mom is really good about being open to certain things.  But, my Dad?  Forget it.  Here are some examples of new things I tried to expose him to:

Me:  Hi Dad, I brought you some boisenberry jam back from London!  Try it.

Dad: *puts the jam on a biscuit…then spits it out*  This is the nastiest stuff I’ve ever tasted in my life.  Do me a favor and don’t ever bring me back anything to eat.  This must be why they have yellow teeth that look like they’ve been chewing on rocks.

——————–

Me:  I went to a public hammam in Morocco.  It was a surreal experience.  You should try it!

Dad:  I don’t need my booty scrubbed.

——————-

Mom:  I learned how to make chocolate molten lava cake at a Pastry & Desserts class in Paris.  What do you think?

Dad:  This doesn’t have anything on Chili’s chocolate lava cake.  Where is the chocolate sauce?  Why isn’t caramel drizzled over it?  You don’t have any Breyer’s ice cream to go with this?  Paris seems awful plain to me.

I’m sure that my Dad is finding a cooking class at the local Chili’s right now.  That will be his Christmas gift for my mother.  Bottom line, if you are traveling with elderly parents (or just folks that are older and like to go on Robin Leach-style vacations), do yourself a favor and take my advice above.  Need further convincing, read my post from Las Vegas.  Last tip for you?  Pack a flask and your favorite spirits.  You’ll need their guidance 🙂

The Name Game

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Naming your child is like a game of Craps…you roll the dice and pray that your kid doesn’t put you in assisted living because of it.

I’m sure when my parents named me, they thought they’d found a nice, normal name.  How were they supposed to know that Prince Rogers Nelson was looking thru the Big Book of Baby Names trying to find a nice title for his ode to masturbation???  Prince was probably perusing through the book saying, “Darling Annie?  Nope…she has a musical named after her and was rescued by rich folks.  I need something more street…Darling Shantae?  Nope, too ethnic, there needs to be a name that all races can identify with.  Oh, here we go…Nikki.”

Yeah, it was great growing up with my own theme song.  Growing up is hard enough without having your own parental advisory soundtrack.

Kids will claim to know about everything…they are just big perpetrators.  Kind of like Sarah Palin.  Have you ever tried to tell a kid something only to hear, “I KNOW!  GOD!  I’M NOT A BABY!”?  But they don’t know and come off looking like a complete idiot.  I was one of those idiots…absolutely refusing to ask the meaning of something because I thought that it would weaken my “cool” rep (which, let’s be honest…I had no rep) at school.

When I was in 3rd grade, a boy came up to me on the playground and said “Darling Nikki, do you masturbate to magazines?”  My response?  “Yeah, all the time!”  No way was I going to act like I didn’t know what the word “masturbate” meant. I had a rep to protect.  I’d figure that out when I got home.

After school, I went home and asked my Dad “What does masturbate mean?”  His response?  He just walked away from me.  Like I was a crazy homeless person who had offended his delicate sensibilities.  My Dad doesn’t respond well to those types of questions.

For example, one day, my Mom gave me a book titled, “So, You Got Your Period?”  I guess it was a self-help book to young girls who suddenly find themselves bleeding and can’t find a big enough band-aid for their vagina.  And, really?  A book, Mom?  We couldn’t have just had “the talk”?  I have one of those mothers who thinks books provide the answers to everything.  If I have an issue, she will find a book about it on Amazon and send it to me with a note that says, “I think you will find this helpful.”  Ten-year old Nikki was mortified by “So, You Got Your Period?”  There were pictures of a woman’s uterus and chapters on the wonders of menstruating and exploring the exciting changes in your body.  Seriously.  My Mom told me to read it then we would discuss.  Like it’s book club.  Anyway, my brother saw the book and at the dinner table (where all the crazy happens) he looks at my Dad and asks, “What’s a period?”  I knew that question was a non-starter based on the look of incredulity on my father’s face.  He responds “A dot at the end of a sentence.  Now eat your peas.”  Then he gets up from the table and walks away.

Anyway, I was determined to find out what masturbate meant.  My rep was everything!  So, I followed my Dad around and pestered him until I got a response.  And, finally, he told me that masturbate meant coloring in a book.  He should know me better than that.  I grew up with a mother that made us use new words in a sentence all the time!  I spent the next couple of months thinking masturbation was a cool new way to color.  At a family reunion, I walked up to my aunt and said, “Hey, I just masturbated all over this coloring book.  Do you like it?”  My Dad happened to be standing next to me…he walked away.  Once my Mom explained what the word meant (she probably gave me a book titled, “So, You Want to Know About Masturbation?”), I was mortified.  And pissed that I had gotten caught slipping at school.

Darling Nikki was a turning point in my life.  That song put me on the map at Richards Elementary and introduced me to the greatest artist…Prince.  I had to go to my friend’s house to listen to him because my parents refused to buy his “nastiness” (to quote my Dad).  I had no idea what he was singing about or the fact that most of the songs were sexually explicit.  He just seemed really cool with the lace & ruffled blouses he’d wear while riding a motorcycle.  Prince was my boo (well, my boo on the side because I still considered myself Mrs. Michael Jackson).  I wanted my parents to take me to a Prince concert so bad.  For some reason, my father felt it was inappropriate to take a 9-year-old to see a man gyrate around stage wearing buttless pants.

So, my parents compromised and took me to a New Edition concert instead.  Bet they rethought that after watching Being Bobby Brown.  Butless pants don’t seem so bad next to a crackhead.

Doggie Daycare…An Elite Black Ops Training Facility

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Don’t let the sweet face fool you!

I have become obsessed with watching my dog, Riley, on the webcam at doggie daycare. I know, I know…I need to get a life. But, it’s just so freaking cute. After a couple of days, I started to notice that the dogs seemed to have their own little “culture”. And, as I was bored, I just created a story of what I think is going on at Barking Hound Village Doggie Daycare.

Riley is working as part of the Secret Service security team. Apparently, someone noticed that he has exceptional guarding abilities and that he is able to detect unsavory characters from a minimum of 20 feet away!!! He was originally recruited for the job of “First Dog” but felt that there was no future in that position. It’s all photo-ops. However, he did agree to allow Sasha and Malia to pet him each day for a couple of hours. He is so selfless. Riley talked about it when he was a guest on Oprah’s Next Chapter. Below is a transcript:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Oprah: Welcome to the show, Riley!

Riley: Oprah, please call me Mr. Pitts, okay? We don’t know each other like that.

Oprah: Sorry, Mr. Pitts. You know, I had a dog that looked just like you. Her name was Sophie.

Riley: Are you calling me a girl? Oh, so now all Cocker Spaniels look alike? Have you learned nothing from Obama? America is “supposed” to be post-racial now!

Oprah: You are right. It was a slip. Rush Limbaugh is rubbing off on me.

Riley: No probs, O.

Oprah: Don’t get overly familiar, Mr. Pitts. Remember what happened to James Frey. So, tell me about your exciting new position in the Obama-Biden administration!

Riley: Well, basically, I am in charge of canine security detail for Obama. I coordinate all the dogs that work for the Secret Service. I’ve been training them at our training facility known under the code name “Barking Hound Village”. Most people think it’s a doggie daycare…that’s how we fool them. They never know what goes on during nap time. That’s when we run black ops simulations. Anything can happen, Oprah. Constant vigilance!!!!

Oprah: Wow, that is amazing. How were you recruited?

Riley: I was running a rogue operation a few years ago and was betrayed by this Shih Tzu (you can’t trust anything that fluffy. Yeah, they look cute but those suckers are as cunning as they come!). The Shih Tzu, Mr. Giggles, sold me out for a bag of treats and a new titanium collar (he’s worse than Diddy when it comes to wearing bling). Next thing I know, I have been picked up by some outfit known as Cocker Rescue with my picture placed on their website. Major breach of security. Anybody could’ve seen me. I mean, you didn’t see Jack Bauer’s picture on a website! Anyway, I got adopted by this nice lady. My new “mama” took me to obedience school which was a joke. I can’t be brainwashed, okay? Ask her about it. She knows that I still pee in the living room just to show her that nobody rules me. Understand?

Oprah: Totally. Then what happened?

Riley: Well, after I was able to convince my mama that I needed “socialization” with other dogs, I started recruiting at this doggie daycare and within a couple of months, started a new organization. With the doggie daycare as a front, nobody would suspect that we were a group of elite fighters who rooted out terrorist dogs throughout the world. However, as with any organization, you always have someone go rogue. I call it “The Mr. Giggles Effect”. We had a Doberman named Targa go bad. It was unfortunate but he had to be eliminated after he slighted me in front of my minions. You don’t disrespect me. I didn’t earn the name, “The Punisher”, for selling cupcakes to the kids. Turns out that Targa was a double agent, working for an outfit by the name of “Paws for Dogs”. I had been trying to infiltrate them for months to get to the brains behind the outfit. Someone who we only know under the pseudonym of “Doggilicious”. The only intel we had is that he hangs out with Snoop Dogg a lot. Anyway, our first break came when Killa Mike (he’s one of Michael Vick’s old fighting dogs…a real find) heard Targa humming “Gin and Juice”. No self-respecting dog hums a Snoop Dogg song. That’s played out. After cornering Targa, we broke him using a new torture tactic called “Operation Solid” which is basically making him listen to an endless loop of Ashford and Simpson’s song “Solid” for hours until he begs for mercy. He can’t even stop himself from cowering when someone comes up and screams “Solid as a Rock!” We broke him and found out the pertinent information, shut down the terrorist group and received a special commendation. That’s how Obama heard of us. He told me that he needs someone who doesn’t trust anybody. Do you think I let someone roll up on my mama’s car? Hecks no! You better stay 50 feet away! If I hear kids walking down the street talking loud…IT IS ON! I DON’T PLAY ANY GAMES!

Oprah: Wow, I think I could really use some security like that.

Riley: Call my assistant, Miss Stinkpot, and she’ll set you up.

Oprah: So, are you still recruiting?

Riley: Yeah, but it’s difficult. I tried to recruit my Granny’s dog, Payton, but he refused to come out of retirement unless he was given an astronomical amount of treats. I asked him if he had read the Huffington Post which reported that employment was down. Then, my cousin Cody sent me his resume. Sigh. Apparently, he labels himself as “The Assassin” and had pictures of all the chew toys he had destroyed. This was supposed to be evidence that he has the guts for this grueling job. I decided to give him a chance. Unfortunately, when we were on a stakeout, someone’s car alarm went off and he peed in the car and hid under the seat. He’s been reassigned to an office position. Well, thanks for having me on but I gots to run. The O man needs me. Oh, be on the lookout for my new book, “It’s Hard Being Me”. It’s out in stores this summer.

Online Dating…That Shi* Cray

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Lord help me.  I decided to give online dating another try.  Why?  Because all of my fabulousness overwhelms me so I need to siphon it off onto someone else (not because I seem to have inadvertently gotten on the seniorsingles.com distribution list…I’m not that old yet, y’all).   Ha!  So, I paid my money and decided to try my luck.  I figure that you have to weed thru the crazies in real life so this may make it a bit easier.  But you know what I have found?  Crazy can be overwhelming in concentrated doses.  My observations so far…

Profile Pictures

First, what is the deal with taking a picture of yourself in the bathroom mirror?  Don’t you have any friends?  Maybe a neighbor?  Or even a timer on the camera?  If I have to see one more camera-phone glamour shot, I am going to scream.  It’s like picture in picture.  I’m distracted by what type of phone you have and if that is a Otterbox case.  Don’t do that to me.  Phone a friend.  Second, put some clothes on.  I said it.  Especially if you want to take a chest picture and you look like Notorious B.I.G.  I can’t take it.  Third, don’t put the Christmas picture with your child on the dating website.  Bobby Jr. isn’t looking for love…he’s looking for his pacifier.  Third, don’t put your wedding photo with a black X over the face of your ex-wife.  Seriously.  You have other photos to use.  That ain’t winning you any matches.  Fourth, stop posing next to a luxury car or in front of some McMansion to show your wealth.  I don’t believe it.  Real rich folks don’t advertise like that.  That is how you get robbed.

The Dating Pool

I’ve found that, typically, matches fall into the following categories…what my friends and I like to call “The Dirty Dozen”:

1.  Mr. Pop Pops =  I set age limits for a reason.  I’m not opposed to expanding the limit by a couple of years…but if you are 65, please don’t send me a wink.  I’m not trying to meet up with you for the Early Bird Special.  That’s gross.  I mean, I thought Morgan Freeman was great in Shawshank Redemption but I’m not trying to date him.  And, really…after my experience in Vegas, I don’t think I can handle another old man screaming out “WTF?” when the shuttle bus doesn’t arrive on time.

2.  Mr. Delusional =  This is the guy who has described himself as “athletic & toned” but looks like Mr. Dursley from Harry Potter.  This is also the guy that has used up the 26 picture allotment on his supposed “Maserati/Jaguar/BMW/Bugatti”, “luxury home”, and other assorted karate kicking/’staring off into the distance with a suit and briefcase’ photos.

3.  Mr. Crazypants = I will say this…I appreciate people who showcase crazy in their profile descriptions.  I prefer to read the crazy than hear about it over drinks (where I can’t make a quick escape).  Case in point, here is an actual excerpt from a guy’s profile (note that he would also qualify under #9 Functionally Illiterate):

” I’m 100% HETERO however I’m very kinky with the right woman!Im a butt man so she has to have a NICE BOOTY Meaning any size, just has to be kissable,lickable and look good in jeans,panties etc.. lol :)I enjoy the entire female anatomy (ALL 3 HOLES)Yes!!! Even Anal. 🙂 Its a shame i have to be this honest but some people dont read, some people dont pay attention and some people dont get it. Okay.. Back to the profile. Yes..I know.. Im a freak.lol But im respectful and honest. kissing,cuddling, hand griping,sweaty palms lots of romance,passion. MMM…WHEW! But I need to find my queen, She should be emotionally & mentally stable(FREAK IN THE SHEETS & WOMAN IN THE STREETS)Otherwise im Abstinent. One reason is because i have herpes, got it from a dishonest ex. Yes im honest. If you have to many hang ups,claim you want a honest man but have a problem with my honesty.(Dont judge me) If you do, your the hypocrite… Please keep it moving.”

That is a strict cut and paste with no edits.  I know it’s crazy.  How does emotionally & mentally stable = freak in the sheets & woman in the streets?  And this is after he talks about sweaty palms, hand “griping” and being freaky with anal sex even tho he is abstinent because he has herpes?  What?  Oh, but he is respectful.  Can’t forget that.  Too many contradictions to discuss.  Cray cray.  Alas, I opted to “keep it moving.”  In fact, after I read that, I just shut down my laptop and went upstairs to take a shower.

4.  Mr. Married But Looking =  This is the guy who is “Currently Separated” which really means that he is still married but stepping out.  Some of the wives don’t even realize this until their friend, Betty, tells them that Leroy is on Plenty of Fish with the screen name “BigDaddyLovaLova”.  I’m gonna need to see a notarized divorce decree, buddy.

5.  Mr. Love Jones = This is the guy that sends you an email with some sort of poem…that is clearly a template used for all of his initial correspondence.  “I want to run my fingers thru your long, flowing hair”  Uh, my hair is neither long or flowing.  But thanks.  I feel like I should be snapping my fingers while reading his flowery words of love.  “Your eyes light a fire in my soul and looking at your picture, I realize that my life was shades of grey until I met you and now I see all the colors of the rainbow.”  *dead*

6.  Mr. Baby Daddy =  If your profile lists 3 or more kids under “Children” and Relationship Status as “Never Married”…well, sorry.  You seem to be high risk for being a “Cootie Carrier.”  I can’t afford to take that risk since I’m recovering from water cancer.

7.  Mr. Imposter = This is the guy with a profile picture of Sonny Corinthos from General Hospital.  You know that ain’t you.  I’m pretty sure Neil from Young & the Restless isn’t on match.com with the profile name of “thuglovin2012.”  One guy had a profile picture of Shemar Moore with the screen name “LuvDokta” and has his profession listed as a Harvard educated cardio-thoracic surgeon.  I almost asked if his name was Preston Burke.  I guess times are tough after Dr. Christina Yang left him at the altar at the end of Season 2.

8.  Mr. Ron Burgundy =  This is the guy who is full of himself.  You know the ones I’m referring to.  “I used to play basketball overseas…I’m a baller and looking for a WOMAN who can handle me both on and OFF the court.”  He usually uses the “$” in his profile name.  That lets you know that you are dealing with someone who has dollar bills.  That’$ right.  Sigh.  I just don’t have it in me to respond.  But, I am super excited that Anchorman 2 is coming out!

9.  Mr. Functionally Illiterate = Sigh.  Why do I get a headache trying to figure out what he is saying?  And for the record, “conversate” is NOT.A.WORD!  Lord Almighty!  If I have to read, “Im jussa kool dude lookin fo a bangin women to conversate wit” I’m gonna scream.  Fellas, please know that is okay to use the singular form “woman” when referring to 1 female.  Women is not the catch-all for 1 or more ladies.  It refers to 2 or more females.  If in doubt, please use spell-check.  It’s your friend, not your enemy.

10.  Mr. Crazy Fetish =  I respect that some people have different interests.  But taking pictures with your metal lunchbox collection that is displayed on your dining room table with the caption, “lunchbox lovin”?  That is too much.

11.  Mr. Race Relations = This is the guy who states explicitly in the first line of his profile that he DOES NOT date black women (even though he may actually be black himself).  But he emails you to let you know that he will make an exception for you.  Um, thanks????  But I don’t need affirmative action to help level the dating playing field.

12.  Mr. Right = I haven’t found him yet but I am confident that he is out there…somewhere.  Seriously.  Help me find him, y’all.  It takes a village.

I’ve pre-paid for 3 months of this.  Pray for me.

Race Series: A Letter from Heaven…Cuz that’s Where I’m at After the Warrior Dash

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Old Nikki…unaware of what is about to happen.

The Warrior Dash is billed as “The World’s Largest Running Series”.  Not sure what type of process they had to go thru for this “certification”.  The race is 3.2 miles of running & obstacles (swimming, climbing over shit, crawling thru mud with some glass & hypodermic needles thrown in [I may have made that last part up], and running thru hot fiyah).  My colleague, Jeff, talked me into doing this and after reviewing the information and “obstacles” listed on the website, I wasn’t all that worried.  I’m training for a marathon so this couldn’t be that hard, right?  WRONG.  See me in the picture there on the left?  Looking all clean and smiling because I didn’t know that I would have to run thru the bowels of hell?  Yeah, I miss her.  I think I lost her at mile 1.5.

Fake obstacle course…maybe that’s the first obstacle. To fool you into thinking it’s not that hard.

The race was being held in north Georgia (close to the South Carolina state line) in Mountain City.  I picked up Jeff and we headed north to meet up with Glenn, another work colleague.  Which…I’m just going to put this out there.  Clearly all 3 of us don’t have good decision-making abilities.  But, I digress.  Jeff is worried that the paramedics will have to airlift him to a hospital during the race.  I laugh (or Old Nikki in the photo above laughed…she’s dead now).  I had studied the obstacle course (which I have provided for your viewing pleasure) like it was a treasure map.  I was confident in what to expect.  Like I had read What To Expect When You are Expecting (To Run an Obstacle Course).  I figured that it wouldn’t be that difficult.  I mean, it’s only 3.2 miles and 13 obstacles.  I even had a strategy.  I know!  I thought I was prepared.  Spoiler alert — I was not.

On our way to the race, Jeff and I speculate about how many other people of color we would see.  His response?  “I think I’m looking at it.”  Now, normally you don’t see black folks crawling in mud and trudging across a lake for sport…there needs to be a good reason (like life or death).  That’s not what we do.  But, it’s 2012.  Obama is POTUS.  Anything is possible, people.  Change we can believe in, y’all.  I held out hope that I wouldn’t be the only brown person there.  Luckily, I saw a few others.  There weren’t many…but change starts small.  See?  I’m spreading the word now.  So to my black people…go out and do this race!  Don’t worry about the title and how I said I died.  You may live!

Apparently this is the pre-party/race area.

After we park, there is a shuttle that takes you to the actual event.  Once we arrive at the venue, we notice an ambulance speeding away with sirens blaring (Clue #1).  As we are walking up a hill (Clue #2 because I hadn’t even considered hills would be involved) we pass people who had completed the race and they looked a hot, sizzling mess (Clue #3).  Before we get to the registration desk, we see a girl laid out on a freaking STRETCHER and she WAS.NOT.MOVING. (Clue #4).  By this time, Jeff has started providing statistics of our chances of getting injured (which did not calm me one bit).  I tried to divert our attention by looking at the costumes.  Because most folks dressed up as something.  We saw Sesame Street characters, Borat (and trust me that a man running in a thong is not cute), a lady wearing a wedding gown…pretty much everything you could think of.  Which should have been Clue #5 but I didn’t realize it at the time.  That lulled me into a sense of calm…like it couldn’t be that bad.  I’m looking at crazy but I don’t recognize the crazy.  I’m part of it.

Before I get into the details of actually running this race, I do need to give Leap Frog Events some praise.  They had the Warrior Dash event organized like a well-oiled machine (except for when it came time to claim my free beer but I’m not going to deal with that now).  The race starts in 30 minute waves.  But, while you may register for a 4pm wave, it seemed like you could run in any wave throughout the day.  Registration was fast and easy.  Race swag includes a cotton t-shirt, medal, 1 free beer and a fuzzy warrior helmet (I will be wearing it this winter so get ready).  There is also a huge party at the finish line (complete with a DJ and folks doing the “Wobble”…I kid you not).  It was awesome.

Starting line…these fools have no idea what is about to happen. Unless they are repeat fools (folks that do this every year…someone I’m about to be).

The Race

We line up towards the back of the wave so we don’t have to deal with the Bruce Jenners trying to actually race.  It starts out with a pretty easy 1/2 mile run slightly uphill.  Now, my strategy was based on the obstacle course map above where the water obstacles were at the end. In my mind, this was great because I wouldn’t have to run in water-logged shoes.  I should’ve known that made too much sense to be real.

Obstacles 1-3

So, when I see the first obstacle is crossing a muddy LAKE by either walking (in water that at some points is higher than me) or swimming, I immediately was like, “this wasn’t in the marketing materials!”  I end up behind some guys dressed as KISS (and using their inflatable guitars as flotation devices…genius.  I’m totally going as Prince next year).  We finally make it across the lake (all while I’m praying there aren’t any flesh-eating bacteria in there).  And as soon as we exit the lake, we have to crawl through mud (and what I am going to assume was mixed with glass because my elbows and knees are scraped to hell) under barbed wire for a bit, then go thru some mesh.  Then it’s time to run some more.  It’s an easy run (which I knew was too good to last).

Obstacle 4

Another freaking lake?  WTF?  Why the hell wasn’t this on the map?  I walk out to the pier, jump into the lake, sink to the bottom to my death (then back up to the top to my resurrection which I am sure will be short-lived).  We had to swim out to a floating obstacle…with shoes weighing you down.  This is where things get dicey.  I realize that my upper body strength training didn’t work a damn as I couldn’t get my big ass on that buoy.  So, Jeff has to pull me up while some poor soul is either helping me by lifting my ass or just copping a feel (which…really?  Don’t you see I’m in a life or death situation?).  After crossing over the floating obstacles, we have to jump right back into the muddy lake and swim to shore.  I got water in my nose and what I thought was my lungs.  I’m running and snorting water thinking “I now have water cancer.”  Don’t judge me…that could be real.  Then it’s time for a new obstacle.

Obstacle 5

Rope climbing.  This obstacle was actually on the map and I was dreading it.  Now that I know that I have the upper strength of a toddler (or that my arms can’t handle the weight from my hips and thighs…there really isn’t a comforting answer to any of this), I just drop my head.  But I’m not a quitter.  My Mom read The Little Engine That Could to me when I was little.  But I’m pretty sure that Little Engine never had to climb ropes.  He only had to climb a mountain and he had the help of an engine so I call cheating.  Aaaannnyyyway, I square my shoulders, grab the rope and start climbing…then stop.  WTF?  Why am I so freaking heavy?  And why are other folks climbing over this wall like monkeys?  Is my rope defective?  So I climb down and try a new one (water cancer causes dementia).  Same thing.  After what feels like 45 minutes, I finally make it to the top.  But now it’s time to actually go over the wall.  And The Count from Sesame Street is trying to get on the rope.  I’m not finished, buddy.  Count the seconds until you see me hit the ground.  Finally, I make it over and climb down.  Then it’s time to run thru a MUDDY FOREST!  Over snakes and tree trunks.  Lord help me.  This goes on for another 1/2 mile.

New Resurrected Nikki rocking the fuzzy warrior helmet…part of the Fall 2012 Mental Illness Line.

Obstacle 6

I don’t even know what this obstacle is called.  You have to climb a wall where the little ledges are spaced about 6 feet apart.  It was at this point that I seriously considered skipping it like so many others that had bypassed obstacles that looked too hard.  But I refused to quit (and I knew I’d never hear the end of it from my colleagues).  Instead, I made a call.  It went like this, “Are you there God?  It’s me, Nikki.  Um, help please?”  Somehow, someway, I made it to the top only to find out that I would have to slide down a pole (which was a good distance from the wall).  WTH??  The race attendant had to talk me down like I was suicidal.  Our conversation went a little like this:

Me:  “WTF is this, John?” (I don’t know if that was his name but water cancer makes you want to re-name folks…it also makes you have anger management issues).

John?:  “Just lean forward and wrap your legs around the pole.”

Me:  “Do I look like a stripper?  I don’t know how to do this!”

John?:  “Just lean into the pole, it will be okay.”

Me:  “This doesn’t look safe.  Has this obstacle been certified by a safety inspector?”

John?: *blank stare*

Me:  “If I die, I’m totally coming back to haunt your ass.”

I did as he instructed, made it down the pole and promptly hurt my hip because I landed too fast.  John, you mutherfucker!  This is going to worsen my water cancer.  I think I’m now Stage 3 at this point.  And as it’s time to run again, I see a mile marker sign that says “1.5 miles completed.”  MUTHERFUCKER!  I’m not even halfway done with this yet?  OMG!  That’s when Old Nikki died.  Right there at the 1.5 mile marker.  Apparently, the water cancer was more aggressive than I first thought.  Out of her ashes, New Nikki arose.  And she was PISSED that she had to run 1.7 more miles of obstacles.

Obstacles…I don’t even care

Seriously?  I climbed over waist-high walls, under more barbed wire, slid down a water slide made of trash bags, climbed over crashed up cars, hurdled over some hot fire and crawled thru mud under more barbed wire (seriously with the barbed wire?  Are they a sponsor or something?).  Finally, there is the finish line…I almost thought it was another obstacle.  Like, “PSYCHE!  YOU AIN’T DONE YET.  THAT WAS ANOTHER OBSTACLE…A MENTAL ONE.  GET TO RUNNING, BITCH!”  But, it turned out to be real.  And as soon as I was done, I proclaimed that I would NEVA EVA do that again.

Then, as we are listening to The Humpty Dance (yes, you read that right), we decided to put together a team to do Tough Mudder.  Which is almost the same except it’s 12 miles instead of 3.2 and the barbed wire is electrified with 10,000 volts of electricity.  You know you want to do this too!  Clearly I suffer from some sort of mental illness…maybe the water cancer is back?

After we pick up our items from bag check, I ask the lady where the showers are (as I know there has to be a place to wash all the mud off).  She points in a vague direction and says, “you just wash off in the lake.”  I gave her the side-eye then trudged to the lake (my 3rd of the day) to wash up like my name is Laura Ingalls and this creek is my way of getting clean before Pa asks me why I flipped Almonzo off at the 2 mile marker while yelling “WHY THE HELL DID YOU LET ME DO THIS?”

Overall, this race was actually awesome.  I know I complained (and died of water cancer)…it’s hard!  But, it was also fun.  And, the after party is a riot.  It was a good time.  If you read this, then you should now be prepared to be a warrior.  So, register (and then join me for Tough Mudder in  2013)!

P.S.  I had to fly to Oregon on business the next freaking day.  I travel ALL THE TIME and never forget to pack major items.  But, when I start to get dressed for work the next morning, I realized that I had forgotten to pack my bras.  Not only am I apparently out of water cancer remission, I now suffer from Warrior Dash PTSD.  Lord help me.

All right, Mr. DeMille, I’m Ready for My Close-Up

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To quote the 1950 film, Sunset Boulevard, “All right, Mr. DeMille, I’m ready for my close-up.”  What woman doesn’t want to do a boudoir photo shoot and be all glam & sexy?  I started out buying this package with the intent to lose all this weight and be like, “BAM! How you like me now?”…but, that didn’t quite work out.  Ha!  Rather than reschedule the shoot (again) until I can look like Skeletor from HeMan, I realized that I was focused on the wrong thing.  I have historically taken a Nation of Islam approach to weight loss…by any means necessary.  Be it Atkins (staying in Phase 1 forever), starvation, weight loss pills, being a workout fiend…you name it, I was doing it.  The problem was I couldn’t maintain the “extreme measures lifestyle”.  Even when I lost a lot of weight (and in some cases, maybe too much), I was never satisfied.  I always found something I needed to improve.  Something that was imperfect.  What I saw in the mirror wasn’t what other people in reality saw when they looked at me.  All I saw were all of my failures, insecurities, baggage, failed relationships, bad decisions, etc.

When I told my best friend that I thought the leather seats in my car needed Botox because they were cracked from all of my weight sitting on it, she told me to put the crack pipe down.  If only.  I mean, couldn’t she see that if I was on crack then I’d be skinny?  Now, I may be trying to steal her dvd player for a “weight loss hit” but I’d still be thin!

I have been caught up in the “industry” standard of beauty for so long, I can’t remember a time when I was ever satisfied in my own skin.  I felt I looked more like Ursula the Sea Witch from The Little Mermaid than Princess Tiana from Princess & the Frog.   I would covet the figures on magazine covers that sold me a faux reality based heavily on airbrush & illusions.  I thought, “If I eat 3 beans a day, I can look like that!”  But it never happened because I’m just not built that way and there came a point when my sanity broke thru the haze of phentermine & 2-a-day workouts & I realized I was miserable AND hungry. I wanted a biscuit and could care less about skinny jeans.

Then it hit me…it’s okay to be “imperfect.” I figure that if God created me this way, then I am perfect in His eyes and that is all that matters.  Now, am I trying to look like Precious and run off with a bucket of chicken?  No (although some chicken does sound good…focus Nikki).  I am just taking a smarter approach to weight loss and changing my mindset.  I eat what I want in moderation and workout.  I am focusing on pushing myself beyond my preconceived limits (both mentally, physically and emotionally).  In the here and now, I decided to strip myself bare & accept myself as I am.  By allowing myself to be photographed like this, I am telling myself that it is okay to be me.

I’m not Naomi Campbell thin (and my iPhone 4 cost too much to throw at someone…they can get my old Motorola).  I’ve never had the figure of a supermodel and I want a bowl of ice cream just thinking about being a size 0.  The only way I will ever be that size is to smoke crack and meth with a side of smack.  Healthy for me is being a size 8/10 and having a some junk in the trunk…to keep me warm in the winter.  I have decided to define beauty for myself as I strive to get back to that size.  I am committing myself to living a healthy lifestyle and seeing how far I can push myself in certain physical endeavors (i.e. marathons & triathlons).

Honestly, I’m just trying to be happy with myself.  To that end, I figured I’d release my poorly hidden diva (because y’all know I am the first one to jump in front of a camera) and get my photo shoot on. I can pick out plenty of things I need to work on but I choose to see someone who doesn’t look half bad.  So, I’m not going to make excuses and say the camera added 20 pounds, because as Shakira would say “hips don’t lie.”  I’m just going to continue on my journey and look as fabulous as I can until I reach my destination!

I know this has felt like a “Dear Diary” entry but there is a key difference…Holly Hobby isn’t on the cover and my brother isn’t trying to crack the code to spill everything to my parents during dinner.  Special shout out to Sarah at Sarah Esther Photography who handled the shoot.  She is FAB-U-LOUS! I really cannot say enough great things about her.  Sarah is so creative & her work is phenomenal!  In fact, she is photographing my brother’s wedding this summer.  Girl’s got skills!  She’s also running another boudoir photo special so definitely check her out!

Without further ado, here are a few pics from the shoot (which were shot at the W Hotel in Buckhead).  Thanks for listening to me share my hangups and entertaining my vanity!

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One Day in Paris

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December 29, 2011

What would you do if you had only 1 day to experience the enchanting city of Paris?

Bonjour!  Aaron, Joyce, Stefanie, Luciana (“The Crew”) and I decide to take a day trip to Paris from London.  While this is my third trip to this intoxicating city, it’s the first visit for my co-travellers.  The great thing about this city is that you can always find something new to discover!  We ended up fitting about 3 days worth of sightseeing into 11 hours.  It was glorious!  If you plan to do a day trip, be sure to get lots of sleep and wear comfortable shoes because it will wear you out!  I’ve covered Paris in 3 other blog posts so most of the info in this post will be high-level (with links throughout to posts with more detail). 

* Just a quick note that this post is going to get risqué by the end since I will be recapping my visit to the Museum of Erotica…you’ve been warned 🙂

Our schedule for the day:

7:01 Depart London St.-Pancras, set our watch 1 hour ahead
10:17 Arrive in Paris, take Metro to Notre-Dame
10:30 Explore Notre-Dame
11:00 Lunch at a French cafe in Ile de la Cite
12:00 Walking tour of the Latin Quarter, Tuileries Gardens, the Louvre, Ile de la Cite/Ile St. Louis, Saint-Chappelle, Deportation Memorial, Pont Neuf, La Comedie Francaise, Opera Garnier, Palais Royale, Place de La Concorde, Palais de Justice, Pantheon, Champs-Elysees. 
3:00 Visit Montmartre area (Sacre-Coeur, Moulin Rouge and Musee de l’erotisme)
6:00 Visit the Eiffel Tower
7:00 Dinner at a French cafe.  Be back at Gare du Nord (train station) by 8:25pm.
9:13 Depart Paris for London (arrive in London at 10:36)

The Crew & I are up at 4:30am to get dressed and take the Tube to St. Pancras station to catch the 7:01am train to Paris.  OMG, it’s early y’all.  Eurostar requires you to check-in at least 30 minutes prior to the train leaving (you also need to account for time to go through security…so budget about 45 minutes or so).  After we check-in, we get breakfast and hang out until it’s time to leave.

 

Once we board the train, it’s about 2 1/2 hour ride to Paris.  We decide to use this time to take a nap.

   

We arrive in Paris around 10:30am (Paris is 1 hour ahead of London) and get on the Paris Metro.  Quick tip:  I purchased our Metro tickets in advance thru Rail Europe (at the same time as our train tickets) and this saved us so much time.  The lines for tickets had about a 20 minute wait.  I just bought day passes so we wouldn’t have to worry about purchasing travel tickets each time we rode the Metro.  It definitely helped us spend more time sightseeing than worrying about logistics.

We hop on the Metro and head towards the Notre Dame stop.  As we exit the train station, we come upon Palais de Justice.

  

Our first stop was the beautiful Notre Dame Cathedral (also known as Our Lady of Paris).  This magnificent cathedral took 185 years to complete (1160 – 1345).  The builders used the popular Gothic style and it’s noted for its flying buttresses.  It has been thru many alterations since completion in order to keep it current with modern conveniences. 

In 1793, during the French Revolution, the cathedral was rededicated to the Cult of Reason, and then to the Cult of the Supreme Being. During this time, many of the treasures of the cathedral were either destroyed or plundered. The statues of biblical kings of Judah (erroneously thought to be kings of France) were beheaded. Many of the heads were found during a 1977 excavation nearby and are on display at the Musée de Cluny. For a time, Lady Liberty replaced the Virgin Mary on several altars. The cathedral’s great bells managed to avoid being melted down. The cathedral came to be used as a warehouse for the storage of food (source Wikipedia).  I find the French Revolution fascinating (I mean, seriously, how out of touch did the royals have to be?).  You can read my comical take on the origins of the French Revolution in my Versailles recap titled E True Versailles Story:  Royals Gone Wild.

The exterior of the church is absolutely breathtaking.  You can see the kings of Judah as well as the Virgin Mary holding Baby Jesus.

   

The inside of the cathedral was beautiful and serene.  All cathedrals have the same layout (in the form of a cross).  It’s a very overwhelming and calming experience.

       

After we leave Notre Dame, we walk to Ile St. Louis (“St. Louis island) and stop for lunch at a little cafe called Le Flore en L’Ile (where they serve the famous Berthillon ice cream).  Ile St. Louis is the high-rent residential area of Paris (Johnny Depp has an apartment here!).

 

We walk past the back of the Notre-Dame and go to the Deportation Memorial.  I’ve been to this area twice before and never noticed this garden nestled among the trees.  The Memorial de la Deportation is a memorial to the 200,000 French victims of Nazi concentration camps. 

Then we cross the Seine…

  

…and see the “love locks”.  Couples who marry place locks along the bridge and throw the key into the river to signify that their love cannot be broken.  No idea what the folks do who have combination locks (maybe those signify pre-nups). 

 

We walk along the Seine towards the Louvre and pass thru the Latin Quarter.  I cover my tour of the Louvre pretty thoroughly in my Paris Ooh La La post (it also includes a recap of the Paris Ghost Tour which was so entertaining).

  

While Joyce & Stefanie toured the Louvre; Aaron, Ciana and I took the Metro to Montmartre to visit Sacre-Coeur.  “The Basilica of the Sacred Heart of Paris, commonly known as Sacré-Cœur Basilica, is a Roman Catholic church and minor basilica.   A popular landmark, the basilica is located at the summit of the butte Montmartre, the highest point in the city. Sacré-Cœur is a double monument, political and cultural, both a national penance for the supposed excesses of the Second Empire and socialist Paris Commune of 1871 crowning its most rebellious neighborhood, and an embodiment of conservative moral order, publicly dedicated to the Sacred Heart of Jesus, which was an increasingly popular vision of a loving and sympathetic Christ.  The Sacré-Cœur Basilica was designed by Paul Abadie. Construction began in 1875 and was finished in 1914. It was consecrated after the end of World War I in 1919.” (source, Wikipedia)

Climbing up the steps to reach Sacre-Coeur is a workout in and of itself.  My glutes were on fire!  But the view is phenomenal and well worth it.

  

While the view is fantastic, let me warn you that the pickpockets are out in full effect.  Due to this area being extremely crowded, thieves are always on the lookout for something free.  Sigh.  I covered my own “attempted” pickpocket experience in  The Wonderful World of Paris post.  You already know I had a “I wish a mutha-*&!@ would pickpocket me today!” attitude.  Ha!

After we leave Sacre-Coeur, we decided to stroll through the artsy Montmartre neighborhood.  An interesting fun fact to know is that many artists had studios or worked around the community of Montmartre (such as Salvador Dalí, Claude Monet, Pablo Picasso and Vincent van Gogh).

We pass by a sweet shop and couldn’t resist going in.  I love how happy sugar-filled shops are 🙂

 

As we were chatting and walking down Boulevard de Clichy, I started to notice something.  Every store seemed to have a theme.  Now, if you have tender sensibilities, are under the age of 18 or are my Mom, stop reading, k?  If you want to read but don’t want to admit to your inner freak, then go on and close the door.  I’ll wait.

  

Wait…what?  Does the sign on that store say “Pussy’s”?  I don’t see any cats.  Is that a pimp leaning up against the wall?  OMG, this is the French “Hustle & Flow”.  Now I’ve got that “It’s Hard Out Here for a Pimp” song in my head and I’m gonna be saying ‘mane’ like Terrence Howard. FRACK.  I HATE THAT SONG! 

How did we stumble into the freak nasty section of Paris?  Why didn’t I see this in Rick Steves?  What startled me was that you just kinda came up on it and it was like, “BAM…take off your drawers/panties.”  If you have a heavy sexual appetite, this smorgasbord of sex is for you.  When I was in Amsterdam, I expected freak fest (and let’s be honest…you know you would’ve been all over this too, k?). 

We had about 30 minutes to kill until we met back up with Joyce & Stefanie so we end up going to the Musee de l’erotisme (Museum of Erotica) which was about 10 Euro.  Let me just say that you are not ready for this place.  Seriously.  I thought it would be some sort of campy “museum” but this turned out to be a full-on 7 level museum dedicated to all forms of erotica.  And, it took us much longer than 30 minutes to go through the entire place.  I am not ashamed to admit I learned something!  For those of you “innocents” out there, this is the time for you to put on some pearls so you can get to clutching.

I was not ready.  And, y’all aren’t either.  Which is why I’m taking you on the tour with me (yes, I was *that girl* who whipped out the camera and giggled or said “shut the front door!” while taking pictures for y’all.  You’re welcome).

So let’s get started.  First, let me say that this turned into my birthday present for my cousin, Aaron (since we were in Paris on his special day).  Second, even he was shocked which is saying something.  Third — Mom, are you still reading this?  Aaron made me go in.  I was fine with visiting the cathedrals 🙂

This is the first thing I see when we enter the museum…

Um, what kind of chair is this?  And, is it for sale?

Then it was on to these gems:

   

Each floor as a “theme”.  They start you off tame…then it gets freakier each level you ascend.  The first floor was dedicated to the “religious” and cultural aspects of sex across the world.  The big dildo you see above?  That’s “prayer wood”.  HAHAHAHAHAHA.  Wooo, stop it.  I cannot see taking that to Zion Hill Baptist Church and shouting out “CALLING ALL PRAYER WARRIORS!” 

Have you been looking for some new sandals for the summer?  Well here you go.

Oh yes, you are seeing right.  Dildo sandals.  I believe they may be multi-purpose.

Then we get to the Japanese proverbs.  This stuff is golden.  I heard a guy saying “this is deep, man.” (you can click on the photos to enlarge).

Then there was the “pillow book”which is basically a how-to manual to subjugate women *eye roll*…

 

Next is the Chinese version of the “Kama Sutra”.

We then head to the next level which is all about brothels. 

 

You can see photos of some of the “working girls” and the ledger of how much pimps/madams made.

Below is an excerpt of a book which basically said that prostitutes became lesbians out of boredom or because they hated how they were treated by men.

Keep in mind that there are a lot of photos but I only took a handful on each floor…didn’t want to seem like a sex-crazed pervert.  We then head upstairs.  Each landing has some sort of erotic art like…

As we come to the top of the stairs, I notice a large flat screen tv and couches with some lighted scented candles.  The tv wasn’t showing anything at that time but I assumed it was a video about the history of erotica.  

Wrong.

So wrong.

Ciana, Aaron and I had been walking around and looking at all the statues, pictures, etc.  I got caught up looking at something (I can’t even remember…I was constantly lagging behind due to taking pictures).  As I walk back towards the stairs, I see the video has started and Ciana & Aaron are slack-jawed.  Apparently, I had just missed what I assumed was the informational video but a new one is starting.  There is a crowd with people sitting on the couch and standing around. 

I turn to look at the tv screen and see it’s a silent movie…and it’s porn.  That’s right, silent porn.  With subtitles…black and white…and looks to have been filmed in the 1920s.  The film was set in a monastery with a “monk” making dinner for 2 “nuns”.  And, I swear that the subtitle said “the sisters decided to have each other for “hors d’oeuvres”.  Wait…what?  Next thing I know, the “sisters” have ripped off each others “habits” and are going to town on each other!  WHAT?  The subtitles keep popping up because apparently you need to be told the continuing storyline in case you got lost.  The “monk” was peeping thru a window and then another “monk” comes up behind him, snatches his pants down and starts having sex with him.  I was done.  I couldn’t watch anymore…in a room full of folks…with a storyline set in church.  I’m trying to see Jesus some day and I don’t have time to explain my visit to the Museum of Erotica to Peter.  I already have way too much to account for.  Which now includes this visit because you know I didn’t leave. 

We turned quickly and went up to the next level…which was “porn thru the years”.  There were 3 smaller tv’s on each table set in a triangle pattern.  This apparently is for more intimate viewing.  But you are still at a table with other folks.  Really?  They had porn from every culture thru a span of 50 or 60 years.  Even interviews with adult film stars.  As we are walking up to the 6th level, we see photos of different “genres” of porn…like vampire porn.  *hangs head*

The 6th floor is dedicated to what I’m gonna call “cartoon” porn.  I’m sure it has some sort of slick name but it’s freaky stuff in cartoon fashion.  Like they needed to draw up Smurfette getting it on with Papa Smurf.  There’s something for everybody here.

The last floor focused on “doll” porn.  Poor Barbie.  She’s a ho.

 

By the time we reached Bimbo Barbie, I was exhausted.  Who knew that looking at all that erotica would wear you out?  We ended up taking the elevator down to the first floor and saw this magnificent display at the exit.

Afterwards, I felt like I needed to smoke a cigarette.  Woooo!  Thanks, Paris.

We leave the museum and head towards Moulin Rouge

Then take the Metro back to the Louvre to meet up with Joyce & Stef.

We all walk from the Louvre thru the Tuleries Garden and see that there is a huge ferris wheel!

 

By this point, our feet are killing us but we still have one more stop before dinner…and that is to the Eiffel Tower!

Then finally, it was time to rest and eat.  We ended up eating at a cafe across the street from the train station.  Which was a good thing because we almost missed our train!  Overall, it was a great day trip.  We were able to see a lot.  I would definitely recommend staying for more than a day because Paris at night is fabulous!  Looking for things to do in Paris?  Check out my post The Top 10 Things to do in Paris.  Au revoir!

WTF, Vegas?

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What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas…unless it’s funny & juicy, then it’s shared on my blog!  And, have I got some stories for y’all.  My BFF, Isina, joined me in the big LV for the weekend and we had a FAB-U-LOUS time!

Of course, y’all know how my luck rolls so craziness greeted us at the airport shuttle.  Isina is now a firm believer in the fact that I am a crazy people magnet.

Airport Shuttle AKA “WTF?”
Sigh.  This is going to be pretty long so sit back and make sure you have something to snack on.  Isina and I arrive at the Vegas airport and decide to take the airport shuttle since it was $7 (a taxi probably wouldn’t have been much more but we didn’t know that at the time).  We arrive at the shuttle stand, buy our tickets and find the proper line.  There are about 15 or so.  The queues are organized by number.  You’ll have 2 queues per stand (i.e. signs for shuttles 1 and 2 are in the same section).

We head for the sign that says “2” and stand in the queue thinking a shuttle will be along shortly (because the line was fairly long).  Wrong.  After 20 minutes, a bus sidles on up and fills up pretty quick so we are left to wait for the next shuttle…which takes another 20-25 minutes.  We are now towards the front of the line.  It’s not complicated and we have just seen that the system can work.  But, it wouldn’t be my story if things worked out perfectly.  So, as the second shuttles pulls up, we work out a plan that I will stay in line to make sure the bags make the shuttle and Isina will save us a seat.  Well, a rogue line that I hadn’t been paying attention to (they were loitering over by queue #3) made a mad dash and rushed onto the shuttle so those of us who had stood in line were left out.  I was like, “Wait a minute.  What just happened?”

Then I had a revelation.  You know who have the biggest problems with habitual line jumpers?  Old people.  They can’t handle it.  I don’t know if it’s the fact that they feel their time on earth could be up at any moment or what.  But, they will bust a cap over someone cutting in front of them.  I had the pleasure of witnessing 2 such incidents.  It all happened when the bus driver (who is now opening the back of the bus to start loading luggage) stated that if you are in line, you aren’t getting on the bus and need to move your bags because the bus is full.  Why did he say that?  That set it off.

Mr. Vernon Dursley (I swear he looked just like Harry Potter’s uncle) got this wild eye look and was like, “OH HELL NO!  WE WERE HERE FIRST!”  But that didn’t make any waves.  Then, he was like, “THEY JUMPED THE LINE!  THEY WEREN’T STANDING IN LINE #2.  I TOLD THEM THAT THE LINE STARTED AT THE OTHER END AND THEY SAID NOT TO WORRY BECAUSE THERE WOULD BE ENOUGH ROOM ON THE BUS!!!  KICK THEIR ASSES OFF!!!  I DON’T HAVE TIME FOR THIS SHIT!!!  KENO DON’T PLAY ITSELF!!!  SHIT!”  The bus driver’s reply?  “I’M KICKING ALL THESE MUTHA FUCKAS OFF THE BUS!!!”  It was like he was speaking to himself but I was like, “Um, if you are kicking them off, does that mean there is room for us?”  Just sayin’.

Alas, he didn’t kick them off but he and Mr. Dursley started going at it.  Clearly, he doesn’t know how Mr. D can get…I mean, he made Harry live in a cupboard under the stairs for 9 years!  Get back on the shuttle, bus driver!!!  But, he decided to try his luck…because it’s Vegas, I guess.  Anyway, he disappears for a few minutes, then comes back and gets into it with Mr. D again.

Just long enough for another guy to show up.   This man had to be 104 years old if a day…he was wearing khaki pants pulled up to his nipples, a flowered shirt and had cotton in his ears…he was old y’all.  So, Father Time had been grinning and seemed to be in a happy place.  Then, it turned on a dime.  Another shuttle worker shows up to defuse the situation with the bus driver and Mr. D.  He’s a black guy who is probably in his mid-30s (who I will call Ice Cube).  So, as Cube is trying to calm down Mr. D, Father Time hops up and starts waving his shuttle receipt in Cube’s face and screams “WHAAAATTTT TTHHHEEE FUUUUCCKKK?”  I was like, “oh hell, here we go.”  Father Time then screams out “WHAT THE FUCK?  I’VE BEEN WAITING FORTY-FIVE MUTHA FUCKIN MINUTES FOR A MUTHA FUCKIN SHUTTLE AND IT HASN’T SHOWN UP MUTHA FUCKIN YET.  GIVE ME MY MUTHA FUCKIN REFUND BEFORE I FUCK YOU UP!”  Father Time is gangsta.  I wasn’t all that confident that he wasn’t carrying.

So, Cube was like, “Who the fuck is this old mutha fucka talking to?”  Then, he does something unexpected (and not very customer service friendly)…he starts screaming back at Father Time.  He says, “WHO THE FUCK YOU TALKIN TO?  YOU BETTA WATCH YO’SELF!  I DON’T PLAY THAT SHIT.  GET YO ASS BACK IN LINE OR GET THE FUCK OUT.  YOU AIN’T GOTTA TAKE A SHUTTLE…GET A FUCKIN CAB!!”  FT screams back, “GIVE ME A MUTHA FUCKIN’ REFUND AND I’LL TAKE A CAB.”  Cube, “AIN’T NO REFUNDS, BITCH (the bitch part was implied)!”  It just got really real y’all.

I was shocked that Father Time had such a potty mouth.  I mean, nobody knows when their time is up but when you are looking like Cocoon and clearly your number could be called any day…I just thought he’d be acting better.  You know how folks get religious when they get older to get a few more credits when they get to the Pearly Gates?  Like, “Hey Pete?  Can I call you Pete instead of Peter?  I mean, I feel like we’re boys since I read my Bible every day after I turned 50.  Can you tell Jesus I’m here?  Picked up my water at reception…just need him to turn it into some Chardonnay.  Thanks!”  Maybe Father Time had a slip up?  I mean, how are you going to explain the cuss out in Vegas to Peter???

Now, during this whole show, Isina had been looking for a taxi so she missed everything.  When she walked up, I calmly explained that she had missed a fight.  Because you don’t act all excited when crazy is close by.  You don’t know what could set them off again.  Kinda like earthquake aftershocks.

So, the shuttle finally takes off without us and the crazies on it.  That’s when Mr. D feels that he has found a friend in me and wants to talk it out.  Sigh.  Why?  This happens to me dang near every trip!  But, I listen as he explains what happened for the 10th time (like I wasn’t there when it happened or when he explained it the previous 9 times).  Here is a transcript of the convo:

Mr. Dursley:  DID YOU SEE THOSE PEOPLE JUMP THE LINE?  I TOLD THEM THAT THE LINE FOR SHUTTLE BUS 2 WAS AT THE OTHER END BUT THEY SAID IT WAS COOL AND THAT EVERYBODY COULD GET ON.  CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT?  THEY JUMPED THE LINE AND RUSHED ONTO THE BUS?  PEOPLE LIKE THAT ARE A MENACE TO SOCIETY.
Me:  You are right.  I can’t believe it.  It’s shocking.
Mr. D:  Karma is going to come back and get them bad.  They will lose at every game they play.
Me: *giggling because he is now the white Celie from The Color Purple…all that was missing was the hand gesture with the fingers*  You are right, ugliness never wins, sir.
Mr. D:  I’m calling someone about this.
Me:  Yeah, you can’t let this go.

Mr. D then decides he’s exhausted telling the story to those around him and now needs to call up his homies.  So, he tells Mrs. D (Petunia) to watch the line and make sure no rogue jumpers cut in while he is 2 feet away screaming the story into his phone.  Mr. D gets on the phone and in the middle of telling his story, he sees a couple of women who are in line #3.  But, they apparently have drifted too close to line #2 because he pauses his phone call, gives a pointed look to Petunia cuz she is apparently slipping on the line protection job, and yells out to the women “ARE YOU WAITING FOR SHUTTLE BUS #2 BECAUSE IF YOU ARE, YOU NEED TO GET TO THE END OF THE MUTHA FUCKIN LINE BECAUSE AIN’T GOING TO BE NO MORE LINE CUTTING AROUND HERE.  I’M MISSING OUT ON BLACKJACK BEHIND THIS SHIT.”  They were like, “No sir, we are waiting on shuttle #3.”  So he leaves them alone and goes back to his call.  After the call, he walks the 2 feet back to the head of the line, notices the 2 women again…and again says, ““ARE YOU WAITING FOR SHUTTLE BUS #2 BECAUSE IF YOU ARE, YOU NEED TO GET TO THE END OF THE MUTHA FUCKIN LINE BECAUSE AIN’T GOING TO BE NO MORE LINE CUTTING AROUND HERE.”  They calmly tell him again that they were waiting on shuttle bus #3.  Five minutes pass… nobody has moved but he sees a leaf or something and takes notice of the 2 SAME LADIES FOR A THIRD TIME AND GOES THRU THE WHOLE THING AGAIN!  At this point, they are shutting him down and Mrs. D can’t be found because she is embarrassed.  I’m entertained.

After all of that, we finally get on the bus after Cube comes over and asks which bus we were waiting on.  As we are riding to the hotel, we see that the shuttle with the line jumpers had broken down right outside the airport.  Mr. D was like, “THAT’S KARMA BITCH!”  Glorious.

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Walk Like an Egyptian…

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“Naharak Saeed” (“Good Day”) from Egypt!  I struggled with how I would blog about my visit.  Egypt is complex, a bit schizophrenic & absolutely breathtaking.  I’ve been waiting my entire life to visit this magnificent place.  In one day, I found myself in awe of the great works that were achieved thousands of years ago…and then repulsed by current conditions.  As always, I’m planning to keep it real so you are going to get Egypt straight with no chaser.  I hope you are ready!

I read several books on Egypt in order to educate myself on the history & culture of the country.  The history of the pharaohs can get a bit complicated so I’ll try to simplify it as best I can.  I am going to give you a quick background so that you will understand my reaction to certain situations I recount later.

BACKGROUND

Religion

Islam is the official religion of Egypt (with about 90% of the people being Sunni Muslim) which means that it’s a pretty conservative country.  Women must cover up (long sleeves and pants even in the HOT sun) and drinking and gambling in public are frowned upon.  That already puts me out of the mix as I don’t like to be wearing a lot of clothes when it’s hot and how am I supposed to hit the jackpot without a cool alcoholic beverage to clear my mind?   However, I believe in trying to live like a local so I wore long pants and a long sleeved shirt (and reserved my drinking for home).

Gender Issues

I read an article a couple of years ago which focused on Egypt having a high rate of sexual harassment.  The article stated that Egyptian men think western women are “loose” (since we drink and wear tank tops).  If you expose a lot of skin, the men think this is an “invitation” and may expose their genitalia as an offer for sex.  Recently, I read an article on “Using social media tools to battle sexual harassment in Egypt” by Rima Abdelkader, NBC News which said “The Egyptian Center for Women’s Rights in Cairo called harassment in Egypt a ‘dangerous social cancer’ in a survey in 2008. The survey reported that 98 percent of foreign women were sexually harassed and 83 percent of Egyptian women experienced harassment throughout Egypt.”   I don’t know why the men just don’t import some of those erotic calendars from Pompeii.  They may not have access to the internet but they can certainly carry those calendars around to satisfy their lust.  I found them in a pocket-size version.  A little something for freaks on the go.

My guidebook also recommended that women not look a man directly in the eye as it is seen as an “invitation”.  That was hard for me because I am used to looking people in the eye as a show of respect (plus it shows that I’m listening to you).  If my eyes drift…so has my mind.  I’m not saying it’s right, it’s just how it is.  I think I suffer from adult ADD.  Anyway, I made sure to wear sunglasses the majority of the time because I didn’t want men thinking I’m soliciting them for sex.  But, um…there were some really good-looking men in Egypt 🙂

I also observed a man offer 5 camels to buy a woman from the man that she was with.  Apparently, in Egypt, camels are currency & women are commodities.  So, you could be walking along the Nile River and Ahkbar could just come up and be like, “I’ll give you 7 camels for Betty.”  It happens.  Better hope your boo doesn’t owe too much to Bank of America because you may be making papyrus on the Nile.

Environmental, Health & Safety Issues

We were told COUNTLESS times not to drink the water or eat any uncooked food.  While this is what you hear whenever you go to Mexico, it’s on a whole new level in Egypt.  I will cover this in more detail in the next post on Cairo (as that is when it really hit home).  This was the most shocking and disappointing aspect to the trip.

Poverty

Egypt has a 50% unemployment rate.  I will touch upon this issue in the next blog post since it has not only a rural impact but a major urban one as well.  This is where “hustlin’” was born.  I thought it was bad in the Dominican Republic.  They are amateurs compared to the Egyptians.  I’ve never seen anything like it.  There has been a lot of governmental corruption so be prepared for me to get on my soap box. 

What is Egypt like?  I think the answer is different for each person.  It’s all in what you make of it.  If you love history (like me) then you will be able to see past the crazy, absurd and disappointing to focus on the beauty of this African country.  So, let’s get started! 

ALEXANDRIA

We arrived in Alexandria around 6am…just in time to see the sun rise.  I could hardly sleep the night before in anticipation for what I’d get to see.  The first thing I notice as we pull into port is that the water in the harbor is dirty and there are sunken ships (which were actually pretty cool).  

Alexandria is the capital where Cleopatra ruled from 51-30 BC.  The city was named for Alexander the Great when he conquered Egypt from the Persians.   The story of Cleopatra is fascinating.  One thing I did not realize is that she was a descendant of Greeks (Ptolemy, who was a general of Alexander the Great).  Cleo was highly educated (she spoke 8 languages) and hard core (she killed her sister in order to have the throne).  A big thing back in the day was for sisters and brothers to marry each other and procreate in order to keep the royal bloodline going.  Of course, this resulted in genetic deformities and poor health for the offspring (see the latest article on the DNA testing of King Tut) as well as a touch of the crazy.  Anyway, Cleo was married off to her brother (Ptolemy XIII aka “P13”) but she was like, “this is gross and I’m out.” So, she ended up falling out with him and Julius Caesar had to resolve the conflict of who should rule Egypt.  P13 thought he could outsmart his sister and keep her from using her charms to get Caesar to rule in her favor.  But, he underestimated her.  Where there is a will, there is a way.  Cleo had herself rolled up in a carpet and was taken right past her brother’s guards in the palace to Caesar.   She put her charms on, was granted the right to rule Egypt and made Caesar her first baby-daddy.

After Caesar was killed (“et tu, Brutus?” is one of my favorite lines), Cleo put her charms on Marc Antony and had 3 kids by him.  Marc ended up living in Alexandria and boozing it up.  When he was defeated by Octavian (Caesar’s heir to the Roman throne and his rival), he was told that Cleo was dead.  So, he killed himself.  Cleo actually wasn’t dead and when she found out Marc had committed suicide and she had lost the throne to Egypt, she killed herself by having a deadly snake, an asp, bite her.  It’s so tragic.  Her kids ended up being taken to Rome where the boys were killed so they wouldn’t pose a threat to Octavian but her daughter, Cleopatra Selene, was allowed to live and ended up becoming the Queen of Mauretania.

     

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Rome in a Day…the Remix

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It’s my second trip to Rome and I am eager to share the experience with my friend, William (aka “Sweet Willy” because he’s just so darn cute).  We arrive at the Roma Termini station and walk about 15 minutes to our hotel.  As we are walking:

William:  Did you just see that car?

Me:  What?

William:  The General Lee Smart Car…did you just see that?

Me:  I have no idea what you are talking about.  I’m looking at hotel signs.

William:  We have to go back so I can take a picture because nobody will believe this.

*we walk back to take the picture*

William:  That’s nice.  An eco-friendly racist.

Me:  Really Rome?  That’s what’s hot in the streets?  Did we just time travel to the mid-80s?  Bo & Luke can’t jump into a little ass Smart Car.  Cooter doesn’t know how to fix this!  He’s got 3 wrenches and an oil can.   Did Daisy give up the Jeep and start taking public transportation?  Uncle Jesse and I can’t take all this.  It’s too much.

We finally leave the Italian General Lee and find our hotel.  Upon check-in, I ask if we can store our bags the next day while we are sightseeing.

Me:  Can we store our bags after we check-out in the morning?

Buddy:  For how long?

Me:  Just a few hours.

Desk Clerk:  How many bags do you have?

Me:  [thinking *Man, what is the problem?  You can either store the bags or not.  Isn’t that standard service at a hotel?* but New Nikki responded] 4

Desk Clerk:  *long sigh & acting put upon* I guess

Me & William: *side-eye*

After we get settled in the room, we decide not to go out since we needed to be up early to do a lot of sightseeing.  So, William does some work and I turn on the tv and see this program called “Il Canto”.  Y’all ain’t ready for Il Canto.  It’s like American Idol + America’s Got Talent + So You Think You Can Dance + Top Chef + Project Runway + The Bachelor.  The program is like 6 hours long with people of all ages, group sings, dancing, judging, and guest appearances.  I still don’t know what it was.  There was this kid who looked to be maybe 12 and I think he won his part of the singing competition (but who knows because it was like he was there in concert or something).  You could not tell him that he wasn’t a star.  He had hand gestures, facial expressions and teeth spaced about an inch apart.

Me:  Wow, I can’t take it.  He is doing runs like he’s Mariah.

William:  You know he just got beat up backstage.

Me:  Why?

William:  Too nerdy.  He can sing…but once he leaves the stage, Giuseppe is waiting there with the beat down to take his lunch money.  If he was in NY, they would just roll up on you like, “yo son, that’s a nice coat.  What size is that?  A small?  Really?  That’s just my size.  You can give it to me or I’ma take it.  It’s on you, B.”

A little later:

Me:  Did that little girl just sing an R. Kelly song?

William:  You can’t keep Kells down.  I wonder what the legal age of consent is here?

Then, we decided to make-up translations to the interviews since we couldn’t understand what they were saying.  When the host was interviewing a sound guy after some little kid did a horrible rendition of Aretha’s “RESPECT”, we translated it as follows:

Me (as the host, Bruno):  Silvio, what did you think of little Pashmina singing “RESPECT”.  Did you find out what it meant to her?  And, did she take out the ECT?

William (as the sound guy, Silvio):  Bruno, she sucked.  And, this show has run into my overtime so you know you are paying me time and a half, right?  This ain’t a telethon.

Me:  Silv, don’t worry about the OT.  Clearly you need the money because those skinny pink jeans ain’t doing you no favors.  Now get back on the soundboard and make sure my mic sounds nice.

After two hours of Il Canto, the Sleep Monster got us and it was a wrap.

…

We get up, have breakfast and check-out to start our self-guided “Rome in a Day” power sightseeing tour.  We start off by going to The Forum and see a guy dressed up as a Trojan.

William:  Where are Trojans from?

Me:  Trojania?

The Trojan asks if we want to take a picture so we oblige…

 

…then, as William is pulling out some coins to tip, Mr. Trojan was like, “That’s gonna be €10.”  After looking startled, we realized we just got hustled.  By a man in a costume.  Chuck E Cheese doesn’t charge you for pictures!  Of course, Chuck just walks around leering at you so I guess you have to pick your poison.  Yes, I have issues with Chuck.  Don’t judge me 🙂

It’s the start of the day and we are trying to be positive.  We pay for the Roma Pass (which is a smart buy for sightseeing in Rome) then pick up an audio guide and a map.  The Roman Forum really is spectacular with all the ancient remnants.  However, it only has fragments of buildings & statues so it’s hard to know what is what.  The map was even more confusing.  The numbers didn’t correspond to the information boards outside some of the sites.  Then, we attempted to use the audio guide.

William:  I think we are at site 7.

Me:  Okay, push play and let’s see.

[The audio guide has a British man giving a 20 minute soliloquy about columns and statues and if you look into the sun you can see Caesar or something we cannot find for the life of us.  It almost felt like we had a learning disability because the sites are numbered so any 2-year-old should be able to do this.]

William:  What is he talking about?

Me:  I don’t know.  I thought you knew.

William:  No!  And, he is still talking.  It’s been what?  45 minutes?  Why can’t he just give an executive summary and say, “to your left is an arch, now turn your ass around and walk?”

Me:  Really?  That’s how they do in New York?  You have ADD.

In the end, we used Rick Steve’s Italy guidebook and just took pictures.  The Roman Forum was ancient Rome’s birthplace and civic center.  This was the place where anything important happened in ancient Rome.

     

After walking thru The Forum, we head over to Palantine Hill. This is where the emperors chose to live and it was once filled with palaces.  It includes the “huts of Romulus and Remus”, the Imperial Palace, the House of Livia and Augustus and a view of Circus Maximus.

   

William:  Are those olive trees?

Me:  Looks like it but I don’t know.

William goes to pull an “olive” off the tree.  Meanwhile, I see Woodrow (Petey the Pigeon’s cousin) picking at food on the ground and he passes right over the “olive”.   Of course, he is getting the side-eye because I haven’t forgotten what Petey did yesterday in Florence.

Me:  Uh, did you just see that pigeon take a bite of one of those “olives” and leave it right there on the ground?  Don’t eat that.

William:  Why not?  I’ll wash it off.  You gotta build up your immune system.

Me:  Really?  You need to follow Woodrow’s lead and keep it moving.

Then, he notices citrus trees that seem to have some sort of fruit like oranges hanging from it.  But, as none of it is hanging low enough for him to get, William has to content himself with the “olive”.

William:  This could keep me from getting scavies.

Me:  What the hell is scavies?  A new hybrid flu of rabies and scurvy?

William takes a bite of the “olive” and discovers that it may not actually be an olive but it’s too nasty to figure out.

Me:  See?  Did I not just tell you that Woodrow was even like, “I’ll pass”.

We leave Palantine Hill and make our way to the Colosseum.

   

The Colosseum is a 2,000 year old building where ancient Romans used to watch gladiators, criminals and wild animals fight to the death.  And, it is one of the most beautiful structures in the world.  I could just sit and stare at it all day.  The first time I saw it, I was overwhelmed…imagine being in a place where people walked thousands of years ago!

Outside the Colosseum, there are “tour guides” prowling around trying to sell you on purchasing some of their time to walk you around and tell you the true little known “facts” about the site.  Since we had already been hustled once that day, we decided to pass and read what Rick had to say.

As we are walking around, we can overhear other tour guides and it occurs to us that we could do this as a side business too.

William:  You know, we could set up our own tour company and give them the “real” experience.

Me:  Yeah, we just need to market it right.

William:  We’ll just be like, “yo son…you wanna know the real deal of why Caesar got shanked?”  And, “This right here is where Jesus told everybody to get their souls right.”

Me:  Really?  We still doing the NY state of mind right now?  And, what are you going to do when you get Mr. I Know My History fact checking you?

William:  Throw him off the tour.  I’ll just say “Were you there?  You don’t know me.  I’m a descendant of Caesar.  He was my great, great, great to the 20th power granddaddy so shut up.”

Me:  *crickets*

William:  *ignoring the crickets*  We can get on the computer and create some tour guide certifications.  Tell them that we majored in “tourification” and we aren’t just some random tour guides off the streets.

Me:  So now we are “tourologists”?  How many of those olives did you eat?  Is this the scavies talking?  Does it cause dementia?

William:  We could even take them into the basement of the Colosseum.

Me:  The basement?  You mean the ground floor where they kept the folks that were about to killed by animals?  That’s closed off.

William:  Exactly.  That’s gonna make our tour hot.  It’s rogue…going where nobody can go.

Me:  Uh huh.  That tour will last 30 seconds.

As we are walking around, we come up with a scheme to offer to take people’s pictures for them so they will take pictures of us.

Me:  Maybe after we take their picture, we tell them it’s €10.  Get our hustle on like the Trojan guy.

William:  I wonder what he does for “Take Your Daughter to Work Day”.

Me:  Probably has her out there hustling too.

As we leave the Colosseum, I am focused on getting back to the entrance to The Forum so I can get my passport back since I left it to secure the audio guide device.  Now, William is all laissez-faire about this as it wasn’t his passport.  He offered up job ideas should I not be able to get back to the U.S. (William:  That tour guide idea is hot.).  We get turned around and I’m looking at the map trying to find the entrance.  As we start walking to the entrance, we come across these “mimes” that paint themselves up and stay as still as a statue.  Some are better than others.  This guy was great!

A couple of meters away from him, we see a duo performing.

William:  Are those Native Americans?

Me:  Uh, I see the feathers on the headdress and I hear the music but I don’t think the Romans stole this from them too.

William:  I’m confused.  Why are they here?

Me:  Outsourcing?

William:  Are they selling cds?

Me:  Everybody got a hustle.  Maybe they are signed to Black Widow Records in Genoa???

We finally get to the entrance of The Forum and as they give me back the passport, I realize that it wasn’t even mine.  It was William’s.  HAHAHAHAHA.  Apparently, we inadvertently switched passports when they were returned to us at the hotel.

Me:  So who is being a mime on the street when they can’t get back to the states now?

William:  You could’ve done tours.

Me:  Well, you know Atlanta is the #1 tourist city in the U.S.

William:  Get out.  Where did you get that statistic from?

Me:  GET OFF MY TOUR!  YOU DON’T KNOW ME!  YOU AIN’T A TOUROLOGIST!  WHERE ARE YOUR PAPERS?  YOU GOT THAT TOURIFICATION CERTIFICATE?  NO?  THEN YOU LEAVE THE STATS TO THE PROFESSIONALS.

William:  You need serious help.

By this time, we are headed towards the Pantheon.

 

Once we arrive, we see non-Italian ethnic groups selling purses and scarves.

William:  You think that is real Prada?

Me:  Is the Prada on Canal Street real?

We go inside the Pantheon, look around and take pictures.  Now it’s time for a gelato break.  Which must occur every few hours or you can get low blood sugar 🙂  After getting my gelato, we walk toward the Trevi Fountain.  People throw coins into the fountain to guarantee a return visit.  The coins are collected to feed Rome’s poor.

 

Then, it was on to the Spanish Steps.

After leaving the Spanish Steps, we walk around the posh shopping district and window shop.  Then we come upon a guy selling nuts…13 for €5.

William:  €5 for 13 nuts with some salt sprinkled on them?  Are they serious?  I can get that at home for $1.50.

Me:  These are special Roman nuts.  You don’t know ‘bout them, son.  They may be like Red Bull and give you wings.

At this point, we are completely exhausted and have to climb 1400 steps to walk back to the hotel.  We end up stopping by St. Peter in Chains Basilica since we didn’t make it to Vatican City.  That was another 1000 steps to climb.  St Peter’s in Chains is where they keep the chains that were used on Peter during his incarceration.

It also hosts Michelangelo’s sculpture of Moses.

On the way back, there was a guy playing typical Italian songs the accordion.  William wanted to get a picture with him.

William:  Uh, he smelled heavily of liquor.

Me:  That’s how rock stars do.  They have to get lit up to rock the stage…or in this instance, the steps.

Afterwards, we go to the hotel to get our bags…which were sitting in the hallway.  What kind of security system is that?  No id, just sitting out for anybody to take.  We were lucky they were there.  The desk clerk is still getting the side-eye as I type this.

Sweet Willy and I are so tired by this point, we suck it up and decide to pay for a taxi to the train station for our 4 hour ride back to Genoa.

Overall, it was a jam-packed weekend but we had a great time and got to see a lot.  Special thanks to Sweet Willy for flying all the way out to Italy for the weekend to keep me company and hang out in the IT.  I had a blast!