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Posts Tagged ‘Out of the house’

Things that annoy me: Travel edition

Posted in Travel, tagged , , , , , , on December 16, 2018| 2 Comments »

Hello all!

I know that this time of year is supposed to be merry and bright. And usually I am too.

I love to travel, but sometimes it brings out the Grinch in me.

Allow me to elucidate.

Why I’m annoyed today:

1. There is no direct train from the city to any of the New York airports. In a city that is so good about public transportation, this is ridiculous. One of the best things about Atlanta is that you can take Marta directly to the airport. Well, the domestic terminal, anyway. If you are traveling international, the planning ninnies make you take a shuttle bus AROUND the airport. Stupid.

2. If a person has TSA Precheck, it’s a fair assumption that he knows the drill with the bins. Not the guy in front of me. He was a hot mess: Wrong boarding pass, waiting for the bin slot directly in front instead of going to the other two that were open, not realizing he couldn’t take his phone through the scanner. Dude, stay home.

3. If I’m sitting by myself in the waiting area, and there are five dozen open seats, DO NOT sit down next to me. I will cut you with my eyes.

4. Once you get on the plane, sling your suitcase in the overhead bin and immediately sit your ass down. People who take their time talking, taking off jackets, finding their glasses, etc., while BLOCKING THE AISLE (usually old white guys) drive me crazy.

5. The armrest is Switzerland.

Anyway, aside from minor annoyances like these, my annual birthday trip was great. I’ll write about it later.

Love and kisses,
Beth

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As it is between Emmy and Oscar season …

Posted in Parenting, tagged , , , , , on October 19, 2018| Leave a Comment »

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Though Trish got married, Hell (aka Arizona) definitely didn’t freeze over

Posted in Cultural differences, Random, Travel, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , on September 10, 2018| Leave a Comment »

Dear Trish,

The family and I are in Arizona because of you, my long-time blog cast member. This is not my kind of place, and I can’t believe you willingly came to live here.

The pilot told us the temperature as we were landing: 102 degrees. That’s not hospitable for human life.

When we walked out of the Phoenix airport, a furnace blast nearly killed me on the spot. Remember that guy whose face melted in “Raiders of the Lost Ark?” Like that.

Stop with that “at least it is a dry heat” crap. It’s a hot heat. So hot. Hotter than Kid Rock’s “So Hott.” Satan’s sunroom hot. Like I crawled into a pizza oven hot.

We drove to Sedona in air-conditioned comfort — thank God — but the poor Chevy Cruze did struggle.

You know what we saw on the way? Dirt.

Dust.

Cacti.

Cacti giving us the finger.

Who lives here voluntarily? What the HECK, Trish!?

You are paler than I am. How can you stand it?

I’ve put my lily-white skin in peril for you. You know I wouldn’t miss your big day, even though you and Irv did decide to get married on the same date Eddie and I did. You date hog, you.

Well, at least we spent our anniversary doing something fun. Sedona turns out to be one lovely spot in this godforsaken land. Thanks for choosing it as the final destination.

And you clean up nice, so there’s that.

As much as I’m complaining here, you know we would not have missed your big day.

Love you, and congratulations!
Beth

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Savannah Craft Brew Fest: A missive from the front line #sanctioneddaydrinking

Posted in Random, tagged , , , , on September 2, 2018| Leave a Comment »

 

A battle must-have: Pretzel necklaces for stamina

Dear Good Friends*:

I write to you today of the skirmish we experienced at the Savannah Craft Brew Fest — the battle we have fought for lo 11 years now. We left camp at 12:30 as the time for our forces to move on the Savannah International Trade & Convention Center.

There were many troops assembled before ours could arrive, owing to the traffic impeding the movement of our Lyft.

We marched to the General Admission line under a galling sun. I was in command of our company, and planned to meet Gen. Candline and his battalion. Good men and women had already started to fall when we arrived to the battlefield.

Though we were equipped for a mighty fray, we found other soldiers with more supplies than we had. ‘Twere truly shocking in complexity.

Sweet and savory! Remarkable!

Next-level ammunition

Dear Friends, the sights we did see beyond these displays of weaponry! A man even sang the song of a woman to entertain the troops.

A fellow warbles “Ironic” by Alanis Morissette. High marks.

We have come into contact with men of every grade, and have made special associates of those whose influence on our character was felt to be good. Some of these men love to tell extravagant stories, to indulge in vulgar wit, to exult in a swaggering carriage, to pride themselves on their coarse manners, even to sculpt hair into special creations.

Some signs of battle for us, Dear Friends, were quite simple.

Others were too convoluted for us to understand. I do declare we met a commanding officer who spoke of provisions tasting of pink peppercorns, Asian pears and French oak. His talk made no sense to us. We decided we were too tired and battle-weary to comprehend these words of comfort.

Two officers told tales of strange ingredients.

Even Gen. Candline became crazed from the heat and the strength of the enemy forces. He became worn down and delirious.

Late in the evening, I tried to write to all of you to share with you news of the fracas. Yet, the light was fading and my eyesight poor. I could barely decipher my writings. ‘Tis true they were garbled and misspelled.

Yet, I am nothing if not honest to a fault.

Today, I’m sad to say all were wounded in the affray. We fought with great disadvantages and in consequence lost heavily. Lieut. Edwin was perhaps the most afflicted, but doctors say he will recover in due time.

Please pray for our continued strength.

Yours truly,
Beth

*Homage to Civil War letters

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Teenager spotted outside his room: Residents shocked

Posted in Parenting, tagged , , , , , on August 29, 2018| Leave a Comment »

Like this, but not as hairy

Elusive creature spotted at community park
From Staff Reports*

BROOKHAVEN, Ga. — A group that claims to track the mythic beast known as “Teenager” through the streets of Atlanta says they finally spotted the creature over the weekend in Dekalb County.

According to the group, the sighting occurred around 3 p.m. Saturday afternoon at Murphey Candler Park.

A woman named Beth said the creature made its presence known after she and fellow group members set up iPhones preloaded with Fortnite at various locations in an apparent attempt to lure the Teenager in.

“The angle of the sun was shining straight down on the seats on the Major Field and something big stepped into view,” Beth said. “I lifted my sunglasses to see better, and I saw a large bipedal animal covered in peach fuzz and ill-fitting clothes. It took one step into the stands, (then) I took off running toward it.”

The woman said that she and fellow Teenager trackers proceeded to follow what they claim was a large creature marginally recognized by modern science around the field to the concession stand.

“Its face was barely washed with no hair on it,” she said. “Its hands and feet were enormous. It was wearing clothes that looked way too big, but that is apparently the style among these creatures.”

Though not social, the creature did take extreme interest in the iPhone and was willing to sit near humans in the stands of the Major Field for moments at a time. Though it did not speak, the beast did grunt occasionally in response to stimuli.

*Credit/apologies to Travis Hall and Blue Ridge Outdoors for the words I liberally changed.

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A night out with lessons learned #maybe

Posted in Advice, Random, tagged , , , , , on August 19, 2018| 2 Comments »

Dear Routinely Judgy People:

I try not to be you, but sometimes I am. Case in point: Friday night.

It was a weird, busy night.

5:30 p.m.
Mini reunion of some high-school friends: Lee Ann, Susan and Katherine. Lee Ann’s husband had signed up to be part of the 500 Songs For Kids fundraising event at The Earl.

7 p.m.
Quick get-together with Eddie, the kids and Brenon, an old friend in town for a funeral.

8 p.m.
Picked up Wendy to go to The Earl. Wendy is a college friend in town to move her son into our alma mater.

8:30 p.m.
Wendy and I met up with Lee Ann and Susan (and I hoped my worlds colliding would be a success).

The fundraiser featured plenty of crowd-pleasing songs such as “Bad Reputation,” “Stacy’s Mom” and “Hit Me With Your Best Shot.” Lee Ann’s poor husband Bill got stuck with “The Gambler,” though. Not a bad song, but not so great for this event/venue.

Here’s where the judging comes in:

Between each song, the host chatted up the fundraiser, all Jerry Lewis telethon style. After a while, though, he talked more than the bands played.

There he is, talking. Again. Still.

I began to hate him.

I actually looked in my pocket to see how much cash I had, thinking I could donate all of it to make him SHUT UP.

Lee Ann and Susan had left by this time, but Wendy was with me in sentiment (lest you think I was the lone hateful hag).

But then, something magical happened.

That’s right. He threw Pepperidge Farm Milano cookies into the audience to the tune of Michael Bublé’s “Haven’t Met You Yet.”

And my heart grew three sizes that day.

The romantic aftermath

I should have learned my “book by its cover” lesson, but no.

Another group came on stage. Riff Raff with a dye job, an ’80s hair band reject wearing Uggs lite and smuggling chicken nuggets in his spandex, and a D&D basement dweller.

Whose basement exploded?

 

Wendy and I were being very mean.

Me: (About the RHPS lookalike) There’s your boyfriend.

Wendy: (Squeals) Every time I see him, I’m freshly horrified.

Then they began to play.

They played Rush’s “Tom Sawyer.”

They played Rush’s “Tom Sawyer” better than any band I have ever seen (sorry, Jesse’s Divide) besides Rush themselves.

Riff and the gang earned mad respect. And Wendy and I felt like the heels we were.

So hallelujah for self awareness.

And hallelujah for that guy. Amazing.

So even though I try not to be disparaging, I often fail. But I also admit when I’m wrong.

I was wrong.

I’m sorry.

I’ll do better.

Love and karma,
Beth

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TGFT*: Harnessing the power of my internal Sporty Spice

Posted in Random, tagged , , , , , , on August 3, 2018| Leave a Comment »

Dear Fellow Thrashers**:

Y’all are the best. I joined the volleyball league to meet new people and have fun, and it’s working!

Last night was a little heartbreaking — good volleys but we couldn’t pull through in the clutch.

And right now I hear my other friends gasping in shock. Yes, believe it: I joined a volleyball league. (Waves hands in front of the faces of the passed out; shouts, “Give them some room!”)

Yeah, I know I’m not the sporty one in the family. I’m not particularly coordinated. I’m usually on the sidelines (unless flag football is involved, and then I’m a she devil [Right Chris and Linda?]).

But last night, two out of my three immediate family members came to watch me play. And I had the night of my life.

We still lost all three matches, but it was close, and I don’t care.

I turned as red as Will Ferrell as Lucifer.

I happily iced my arm.

Yes, that is an ice pack shaped like a cherry Life Saver. It fits perfectly on the painful spot on my wrist.

I wore the last bruise like a badge of honor.

Sexy, I know.

And I’m happy. So thanks. Love you all!

See you next week,
Beth

* Thank God for Thursdays

** AKA “Trashers” (We did not pick the name.)

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Signs of life: England edition

Posted in Cultural differences, Travel, tagged , , , , on July 26, 2018| Leave a Comment »

Dear British Signmakers:

I’ve enjoyed reading your work, but I have questions. Please clear up my confusion.

Zebra? That looks like a man to me. (BTW, it is supposed to be pronounced “zeeebrah,” people.)

Does that mean it is easy to get in? You’re inside like a smooth criminal? Is the opposite a lumpy or awkward entrance?

Why would you send me to use yet another toilet that is out of order? That’s what you mean by a “disabled toilet,” right? (Also, I know your establishment is called “Yo! Sushi,” but I think you needn’t be cute with the sign.)

Is it still a deal if you have to take a taxi back to your lodging? Or if you have to pay someone to hold your hair back? Oh wait … now I see the ampersand.

Who is eating fish in the bathroom? And what’s that other stuff? A can of spray paint? What happens in toilets in Oxford?

Do women in pubs really need all these face and hair potions? Wouldn’t it be good to have put some condoms in there too, as is offered in traditional vending machines? I would assume ‘girls on the go’ might want those. Equal rights and all.

You know I’m just kidding: I know what all these signs mean to convey. Just some light teasing from your odd American friend.

Love you!
Beth

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Uneasy lies the head that visits the Crown*

Posted in Advice, Travel, tagged , , , , , on July 23, 2018| Leave a Comment »

Dear Owners of the Crown Hotel,

I enjoyed visiting your establishment Saturday night. I had booked a stay in case I wasn’t able to connect with my friends Hannah and Clair before an event in the area.

Clair had nothing but unkind comments for you. She said shocking things such as:

That is where the council use as a B&B as temporary accommodation for people who are homeless/on the council waiting list.

I certainly wouldn’t leave anything valuable there! And take it in the shower with you and nap with your laptop under your pillow!

Don’t forget to put elastic bands around your trouser bottoms to stop the flea bites!

I really think she underestimated your attractions. You have billed yourself as a “cheap, no-frills hotel,” but I think you are selling yourself short.

Just look at all your amazing amenities:

1. Extra foliage in the chimneys for a lovely garden effect PLUS a location convenient to the train.

Photo by the Clair the Hateful

2. Designated parking for ladies. I’m sure the ladies of the evening feel honored.

3. A Sizzler on site for guests’ dining pleasure.

4. Double-doored entryway to keep out the riffraff. Or not.

5. Convenient access to and egress from my potential room.

6. Stray bits of plaster from the walls to remind one that the property is historic. (Hannah does not see this as a positive: “They did not even bother to hoover the room!” She and Clair have standards, you see. Too bad, really.)

7. A sock over the smoke detector so that someone can light up in peace.

8. A window right out onto the roof to allow easy access for rapists and murderers — what a perk!9. A policy requiring guests to leave their key at reception (Who needs to keep up with a pesky key? Who cares about their valuable items in the room? Life is too short to worry about material goods.)

I’m so sorry I did not take advantage of your ample charms. I ended up staying out late and going home with Hannah.

Sad to say, her home had been freshly hoovered, and there were no fleas in sight. I felt safe too. Where’s the adventure in that?

Maybe next time, Crown.
Beth

*Credit/apologies to Shakespeare’s “Henry IV, Part II,” 1597.

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Pass the Geritol and party on

Posted in Advice, Random, tagged , , , , , , , , on July 19, 2018| 8 Comments »

Echo and the Bunnymen perform for the elderly at Chastain Park.

Dear Fellow Concert-goers (aka Grizzled Old Beasts Just Like Me),

It was great to hang out with you at the Echo and the Bunnymen and Violent Femmes performance last night. Between the sets, I was taking a good look at all of you — people watching, as I do. You know, finding inspiration for this blog and other writing projects.

I noticed plenty of partial and full hair loss, beer bellies, socks pulled up too far, white shoes, varicose veins, gray hair, etc.

“Jesus, these people are old,” thought I.

That uncharitable thought was followed quickly by this one:

“Oh shit. These are my people. I’m old too.”

Dang. That was a rude awakening. I’m still 27. In my head. Forever. As I bet you are too.

 

Notice the beer (which was delicious). Then notice who is beyond the beer. Notice the cane and the socks.

How we feel ≠ how we look.

It’s depressing.

😕

But not as depressing as the thought of the geriatric dating game. Some of you were definitely hooking up (or trying to, at least). I mean, good for you.

Eddie and I ended up joking about that this morning (I’m in blue, in case you are cursed with an Android phone):

(Don’t give me flak for hating on the stout hairless men of the world. We all have a type, and that’s not mine. And they don’t like me either. So there.)

If forced, I guess I’d have to get some Botox and lipo and start cougaring. But then I’d have to forget knowing every ’80s song, including the Femmes’ repertoire.

I cannot live a lie.

Just like us (in our minds), the Femmes’ sound hasn’t aged at all.

So I think we should all agree to keep on keeping on, just as Hunter S. Thompson recommended:

“Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well-preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming, ‘Wow! What a Ride!'”

Ride on, fellow geezers.
Beth

 

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