Skype

Seeing as I am going to be unemployed in three two-and-a-half weeks [yikes], I am starting to reach out to recruiters. One of the guys I am working with (from out east), asked if we could meet over Skype.

Great. The first test for potential employment seems to be whether you can install basic computer software [are you smarter than a fifth grader]. I, of course, had to call Nicola [I’m an accountant who comes with her own help desk].

In addition to simple connectivity, there are presentation things to think about with Skype. I thought “Ah – sketchy quality, my PC camera is 4 years old and has god-knows-what stuck to the lens – he’ll barely be able to see me. I will definitely take off the ballcap, but probably just fluff the hair.”

It’s a damn good thing I tested this skype thing beforehand. Not only is it NOT sketchy, but when I sit over the keyboard [like any good accountant does when sitting in front of a computer] – you can actually make out the pores on my face. Ack! I don’t need a resume, I need a facial. Not only did I NOT wear pajama bottoms as originally planned…but I went ahead and put on perfume, just for good measure. I hope this skype thing doesn’t catch on for meetings – I will have to upgrade my all-pajama office attire.

Incidentally, a skype view into my home office is a little unflattering. At least my PC camera was pointed AWAY from most of my desk – much like a camera pointed out the front door of a condemned house. Seriously…it was mainly pointed at my disproportionately large face [I really was too close] and the ceiling. Which is good, because 12 hours after Julieta finished cleaning our house – the ceiling was the only tidy part of my whole room.

[sigh] I better work on my skype skills or I am going to be limited to a super-casual, big-faced workplace.

Washington DC

Apparently, three days before you arrive in Washington D.C. is NOT the time to start planning your D.C. itinerary. [What was I gonna do – try to get fired earlier so I could plan my vacation(s)??]  See – in D.C., you can reserve internet tickets ahead of time for the most popular attractions.  Kind of like FASTPASS at Disney [but the rides aren't as good].  However, every single field-trip-leading school teacher in America [I’m looking at you Anne Louise] must get on-line years in advance of their trip because…as of today…the NEXT ticket available for the Washington Monument is just a tad out-of-date [that would be August 17th and not April 17th. I am not even sure it was August 17th of this year.] I feel like I should get preferential treatment for these historical landmarks because I spent a year of my life reading the Harry Truman biography. I mean…I am ALL for celebrating Democracy, but can’t there be some sort of VIP line to do it?! [I bet I could pass as a docent at Robert E. Lee's house.]

So our itinerary is chock full of things like the Washington Mall, Lincoln Memorial and Arlington National Cemetery. Big, open, ticketless attractions. [Shame about the forecast.]

And my soon-to-be unemployed self is being quite frugal in our planning [see ticketless attractions]. Don’t tell Rita, but we are staying on the Priceline floor of the first hotel before we move to a different [free points] hotel on Saturday.

So just to recap…I have just finished planning for our cheap-as-hell, none-of-the-good-attractions trip to D.C. Am I a vacation dreamboat or WHAT?

More Vegas

More from my weekend trip to Vegas [if you didn’t read the Liberace post – you may want to start there and come back to this post]. Rita couldn’t make it, but my high school friends Melissa & John came up with a killer itinerary (somebody is watching them some Food Network) [Really…when you don’t spend 16 hours standing at a craps table giving money away, you get to see all KINDS of things in Vegas.]

First, our post-Liberace hunger was satisfied by a world-famous Stromboli from the TV show “Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives.” [Our destination was proudly representing the Dive category, I’m guessing.] After paying for the taxi to and from the [very] off-Strip location, we figured we had just had a $75 Stromboli….but, ummm, fyi….worth it.

Our breakfast the next day featured Snickers flapjacks [You heard me right. It’s a “Man vs. Food” favorite. You may not know the show…but think about a food that is suitable for battle – and you get the picture.] This one was so good that my friend Melissa told her husband they should make it at home for the kids. To which he replied…”that’s right honey, for the kids.”

And I now know a real-live person who has eaten a deep fried Twinkie. And in a rare moment of restraint – it’s not me. The judgment seems to be that the 99 cents is a bargain. Of course, I lost $10 in a slot machine while we were waiting for the oil to heat…so it was really an $11 Twinkie [much more in line with its true value].

But it wasn’t ALL fine food. My off-Strip lodging was just as exciting [did I mention that Rita wasn’t with me?]. I seemingly booked the hotel room right next to the 21-year-old spring-breakers. At least they all went out for the night about the same time I went to bed. Unfortunately, my neighbor “Angela” had the unfortunate habit of passing out each time her boyfriend went down the hall for ice…requiring him to stand at the locked door at 4 a.m. shouting at her like Rocky until another neighbor yelled at him to “shut the fuck up, asshole”. [Obviously – all the Priceline customers got the same floor at my hotel.]

Next trip – I’m only playing craps at the places with deep-fried Twinkies.

Liberace's Musuem

The Liberace museum is billed as the best $15 you will spend in Vegas. I could not agree more. [And consider that this recommendation is coming from someone who last veered from her earth-tone course in 1994.] It was beguiling, bewitching, bedazzling. The overall organizational strategy of the pink, rhinestoned museum seemed geared toward making you say “Oh no, HE’s not gay” at least every 10 feet. Sparkling stars & striped hotpants? Gay. Swaroski crystal bejeweled convertible? Gay. Ruby-encrusted piano ring from his mother? Seriously. [We’re talking Johnny Weir territory.]

Our Docent (Bette) was one of several middle-aged groupies/museum volunteers that had it bad for the big L. We’ll call them the Liberace-ina’s. She used to work as a consultant for IBM before dedicating herself to the spangle and the glitz. She was so enthusiastic about her work at the not-for-profit museum, that I now thought less of those who merely helped the poor. Liberace Docent is JUST a higher calling.

The big draw of the museum was his wardrobe. As our Docent highlighted how he had his outfits made to match his pianos, I felt a little sheepish about my brown loafer/black sweater combo. (I sooooooo could have been Liberace’s Eliza Doolittle.) Liberace even had a full-time furrier. [Apparently, Liberace was the genesis for PETA.] Honestly, no member of the animal kingdom was safe from L’s fur fetish – turkey feathers, chinchilla, llama fur (who the hell knew llama fur made such a stylish lapel?) The best part…as we’re walking away from the “Midnight” ensemble, the Docent casually remarks that it is “made of upside-down monkey furandnow, we’ll move on to this magnificent Easter outfit.” [Why! Is it made out of the Easter bunny himself?!] We were all stunned stupid by the complete throw-away line, trying to figure why the poor monkeys had to be upside down when they were skinned silly.

As Bette worked her Docent magic, however, you actually bought into the concept that Liberace must have been “a terribly strong man because he could perform in a 210 lb pink-ostrich-feathered cape.” [Oh yes, he was Atlas under that chinchilla fur. What ARE the cape-wearing muscles again?]

In the tour-ending documentary, we found out that he even had a spangle-clad protégé that has carried on the Liberace magic [“protégé” apparently being French for “lover”]. And I don’t want to ruin Rita’s birthday surprise, but he IS available for special celebrations.

HRC Dinner

For those of you unfamiliar with HRC (Human Rights Commission), it is a national political action committee for the gays. As one of their major fundraisers, they sponsor chichi dinners across the country where everyone gets all dolled up for equality and listens to hours of big, gay speeches.

Well...a week ago Saturday – I took Rita to her first HRC dinner, Nashville style:

• I will bet you that this is the only silent auction in the South that includes trips to Provincetown, Miami Beach and Fire Island [and oh yeah… a lot of gift certificates for a free cut and color]
• If the women attending Saturday’s dinner are any indication, equality’s army will be clad in a black pantsuit.
• The equality-lovin’ liberal from California sure was an easy fund-raising mark. “But Rita, if you are going to write a check, at least get me a trip to Provincetown, Miami Beach or Fire Island.”
• I know, I know….there are more Nashville City Council Members attending than EVER …but do they all have to sit together? [“I know what your preacher Ted Haggard told you…but we’re not contagious.”]
• It’s a cash bar?! Nothing says equality like a $15 cocktail.
• “Yes, honey – the non-discriminatory ordinance that we are celebrating is from THIS year. You Californians have Berkeley…we have NASCAR. You have to grade on a curve.”
• I had to explain ALL the country music jokes to Rita [When they say…"Taylor Swift can’t hit a note with a bus…”]
• Beware the elegant southern straight ladies…who knew Iris Buehl’s speech would make the gay boys blush?
• From now on, the entertainment at these things is going to be American Idol semi-finalists, isn’t it? There’s like a 1,000 year supply.

What's Cooking

Mom’s visit to San Diego was certainly eventful…because it involved the first ever non-pizza dinner I have ever cooked. [38 years old and those merit badges just keep on coming.]

In light of my success…I thought I would put together a comprehensive how-to program for the similarly untrained who want to attempt this daunting task. So in 12 easy steps, here is my dinner-for-dummies. [Wait just a minute, here…a 12 step program…]

Step 1....Pop in “unexpectedly” to a friend’s house at dinnertime and take copious notes about what she throws together on short notice. [One man’s “college food” is another woman’s most-extensive-meal-ever-made.]

Step 2....Reject any courses involving more than 3 1 ingredient.

Step 3....Take the stolen wrapper from the prototype dinner in order to purchase the…wait a second, here….Trader Joe’s Boneless Beef Tri-Top Roast

Step 4....On appointed evening, set up ambient lighting [i.e., space heater] in mom’s Terrace Bistro & Hookah Lounge

Step 5....Make menu exactly as designed [Except the roasted potatoes became Ore Ida crinkle fries and the spicy green beans became expendable.]

Step 6...Turn on grill. Try to turn on grill. [Damn…this is the part of the process my people are supposed to be good at]

Step 7...Learn how to turn Rita’s restaurant-grade stove on

Step 8...“Delegate” stove operation to Momma sous chef

Step 9...Apologize profusely for roast on the first Friday of Lent [“Of COURSE I’m going to church, mom – why do you ask?”]

Step 10...Make sure your inaugural dinner is for your mother, who is obligated by the rules of nature to say – “Well that was just perfect!”

Day 2 [that's right...Day 2]
Step 11...Refill empty propane tank before Rita gets home
Step 12...Pay Julieta extra to destroy dirty-stove evidence of baby’s first dinner

Repeat as necessary until mom begins to host herself in your house.

Critters

My mom has critters…and we’re not talking dogs and cats. No…my mother has raccoons [plural] in the attic of her house. [I keep telling mom that wild animals do not make good pets, but nonetheless, her house has officially become….Nana Annie’s Raccoon Spa and Nocturnal Feast-aporium]

And how do we discover these little bastards are crawling around up there? Because some daughter takes an exhausting trip home, visits all day and then lays down to sleep in the upstairs bedroom….where she is buffeted by the pitter-patter of a gaggle of coons scurrying above. Did I mention overhead? Aiiiieeeeeeee And the dogs just LOVE it. I had to move downstairs after Molly had a nervous breakdown from hysterically chasing the ceiling from one end of the house to the other.  Not to mention that once embedded, asbestos is easier to remove than those little $^#%@.

Cue…~“the Critter Guy”~

The Critter Guy [these are real jobs, people!] has been out about a dozen times tending to the matter and trying to plug all the places they may be getting in. Turns out that bashing the heads of these little suckers [my suggestion for dealing with them] runs afoul of certain animal welfare laws, so they have to be “resettled”.  As of two weeks ago, the Critter Guy has removed 6 (!) different raccoons from the attic of mom’s house.  Ummmm...for those keeping score at home...that’s 200 lbs of varmint hanging out overhead. After resettling the first 5 raccoons, however, the Critter Guy didn’t charge mom for the last one. Seriously? Buy 5, get 1 free. And I am pretty sure the Critter Guy is my mother’s new BFF. I don’t know if “the Critter Guy” is his real name, but I think that’s how he’s going to show up in the will. He’s even ahead of my brother in the Love Game.  =)

6 raccoons, 1 insulation re-install and a homeowner’s insurance claim later…we THINK they are all gone.