I don’t know exactly what the category is, but despite missing two weeks of Clarification sue to honeymooning, he has managed to comment on nearly all the posts he missed.
You could all learn from his example.
Please see archives to your…right…or left…I’m no scientist.
Bad news: will anyone remember this is November?
Republican Rep. Bob Ney of Ohio pleaded guilty Friday to federal charges in the congressional investigation into corruption and bribery involving disgraced lobbyist Jack Abramoff, according to the Justice Department.
Wow. That was some scary 30 hours there with no internet access. I walked around the area and found a public library, two blocks away.
The librarian probably thinks I’m psychotic.
“Do you public computers with the internet?”
“Yes, are you –”
“Gimmeee, gimmeee, gimmeee, gimmmeeee, gimmeeeeee.”
I’ve had quite the eventful morning already.
I was up at 8:30! A.M! That’s. right.
Yesterday, the girl I’m sharing a room with said she made an appointment to go to the spa, so I figured I should too.
Unfortunately, she didn’t mention that she made the appointment weeks ago, so I got stuck with the 9 a.m. slot.
Awesome.
I decided that I’d go swimming after my manicure/pedicure, so I got dressed in casual attire compleet with bathing suit underneath.
Uh and thank God.
And here, I offer a word of caution to the un-spa-initiated. You may think, ok, I am just here to get colorful polish painted on my twenty nails, so one would think all that would need to remain uncovered, would be one’s hands and feet.
Not so.
At the spa everyone is required to declothe and re-robe with their terry cloth bathrobes and slippers. So, with nothing but an inch wide string, keeping me from parading around in my altogether…bathing suit underneath became my bestest friend in all the world.
I sat in the “relaxation room,” gripping my front shut and clutching my knees together. I did not dare take a chance on using a hand for the cucumber adorned ice-water.
The pedicure lady was pleasant enough, but when her partner walked into the room, the perkyness quotient topped the charts.
This woman would not stop talking about her kids and their polo matches and her husband’s birthday and the company picnic and baking cookies and feeding the homeless and oh my gosh, wasn’t the sunrise this morning just amazing.
ARRRGGHHHH.
Once, she finished with my toes and nails, I was taking back to the relaxation room for them to dry.
I decided I would not get any thumbprints on my polish job this time!
The front desk clerk came by to tell me that they had a cancellation and if I wanted to, I could get a facial.
“Uhh…ok.”
“Terrific, Ms. Summers, follow me.”
I shuffled behind her, careful not to touch anything.
The facialist entered, told me to get under the sheets face up.
“You can hang your robe behind the door.”
WHAT THE —
The robe is in no way covering my face, what is the freaking obsession with nudity in these places!
I did not like the facial…it alternately felt like a mini sander running up and down my jaw bone or one of those dentist suction hoses pulling my face off.
All the while she explained something or another about crystals and dead skin and foliation.
(I loved her gasping when she asked how often I exfoliated at home and I responded with my patented “what now? I wash my face if that’s what you mean.”)
I went back to the locker room and I have to say, my face looks incredible! It’s like all glowing and stuff. Of course, it also feels like it’s on fire…so maybe that’s where the glow is coming from.
The jig, as they say, is up!
I presume the credit goes to the entertainment industry, but California has the best PR in the world.
Seriously. Just think about it.
Someone says Los Angeles,’ you immediately think sunshine, beaches, cement hand prints, the Hollywood sign, bikini clad bodies rollerblading down a promenade.
Well, my friends it’s all a lie! Los Angeles, in reality, involves waiting 33 minutes for a shuttle van to take you from the airport, followed by two hours of bumper to bumper traffic, as you crawl your way to a hotel with no internet access and a concierge that refuses to tell you where the nearest Duane Reade is because she wants you to buy all the toiletries that you are forbidden from flying with, from the hotel “gift shop.”
All of which would be fine and good, if the hotel gift shop wasn’t all sold out because all 9000 guests that they’ve had in the past three weeks have needed to buy all their banned toiletries from said gift shop.
Oh, and that sunshiney weather? Well, if you land at 9 a.m., it will actually be rainy 54 degree weather. Which will totally suck because the last time you were in Los Angeles it was 130 degrees and you nearly melted into a puddle of skin and fat as you walked out the airport in a fleece sweater and jeans. So, this time around you were ready for the 130 degree weather with culottes and a T-shirt.
And as you sit there, for 33 minutes, waiting for your shuttle, with chattering teeth and damp toes, certain that you are at that very moment contracting pnemonia, you will amuse yourself with the visions of all the posts you’re going to write about this trip once you get to the hotel room business center.
Except.
Dawn: Hi, where is your computer room?
Lady from Bizarro Crazy Land (aka California): We don’t have one in the hotel ma’am.
Dawn: Huh?
LFBCL: We don’t have a computer room.
Dawn: Ok, do you have a business center?
LFBCL: No, we don’t have a business center.
Dawn: Oh…ok, is there a place with computers with internet access?
LFBCL: No, I’m sorry the hotel doesn’t provide computers. But we have wireless access from all the rooms and common areas.
Dawn: Ok, so where do I go just to check my email?
LFBCL: Umm…if you have a laptop, you can access our wirelss form anywhere.
Dawn: Blinks.
LFBCL: Stares
Dawn: Blanks faster and crinkles brow.
LFBCL: Stares.
Dawn: Wait…so…where’s the business center, now?
Former Texas Gov. Ann Richards, whose brassy, tough-talking persona and trademark white hair cut an indelible profile in Democratic politics, died Wednesday evening at her home in Austin, surrounded by her family, her spokesman, Bill Maddox said.
2:01 a.m. OK, pumped! Cab gets here in 3 hours! Then it’s nodding off at JFK until my 6 hour flight.
2:06 a.m. Coffee!
2:14 a.m. Waffles!
2:16 Heeeyyy, I have crumb trays on the toaster! In two years, I’ve never noticed that…I am afraid to open it.
2:20 a.m. Yummm…I make the best frozen waffles and instant coffee ever.
2:21 a.m. Ok, so let’s see what this whole Entourage rage is all about.
2:22 a.m. Fuck You HBO. And not letting me fast forward through your stupid “We’re still here” commercials. Especially…ESPECIALLY since Six Feet Under, Sex and the City, Carnivale and the Comeback are NOT STILL HERE.
2:24 a.m. Will Lisa Kudrow ever work again?
2:31 a.m. Uhhh…this show is so boring. I mean, the Vince kid is cute, but he’s got Keanu Reeves acting ability.
2:32 Is Eric the guy that played the other Hobbitt in that movie?
2:40 Oh good lord, how much more of this is there…so sleepy….
3:06 Shit. Did I doze off?
3:16 OK. Poker blogging now.
3:34 Alceste’s not dead!
3:50 Fading fast. Entourage is killing me. How is this still on the air? How? And why do I feel like I owe Ari some kind of ass kicking for sayijng this show was so me?
4:57 Car’s here. See ya on the left coast…hopefully.
A gunman in a black trench coat and sporting a mohawk haircut opened fire Wednesday at a Montreal college and wounded at least 20 people — six critically — before he apparently was killed by police, witnesses and authorities said.
Not from me though. I’m more of a snicker, snicker type of fellow.
“So it looks like John Spencer is the …winner(?!) and will get to face Hillary Clinton in the general election” - NY1 reporter