News coverage of celebrity deaths has become a cottage industry, hasn’t it? I can only imagine the number of LA residents whose full time job involves listening to police scanners all day, trying to recapture the magic that was Anna Nicole Smith.
At least the coverage since Michael Jackson died last Thursday hasn’t been THAT over the top (all things being relative). I was in the San Diego airport [shocker] watching CNN spend the first 30 minutes of their coverage running nonsensical footage of an entry gate while a trailer across the bottom of the screen indicated that “media outlets are reporting Michael Jackson’s death”….ummm, YOU’RE a media outlet, CNN. I don’t think you get to hedge your bets on this death thing just in case Michael Jackson turns out to be in the back of an ambulance with Dr. Phil. I mean…you’re CNN for chrissakes…not a blog.
Upon final confirmation, CNN immediately cut to Al Sharpton giving a presser in Harlem. Seriously? I know Michael Jackson had his issues, but I think he deserves better than Al Sharpton as an official spokesperson. Besides, just because you’re black and crazy doesn’t mean you get to speak for all black and....eccentric.
But it was no more than 11 minutes after he died, and CNN had a 400 word obituary up on their website. I know they pre-write these things for the next most likely candidates, but Michael Jackson? Does Miley Cyrus know her obituary is already written?
I bet the only person in America who really wants more of this Jackson coverage is Mark Sanford.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Summer Hours
I am back blogging again...but I have negotiated a Jon Stewart-like schedule - Monday through Thursdays with Friday's off. So tune in tomorrow when I don't air a re-run.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
But Molly Hasn't Changed...
I may have taken a hiatus from blogging…but rest easy that Molly hasn’t changed a bit. While she hasn’t bitten any mailmen lately, she DID trap one of our dinner guests in the bathroom last month. (I mean of COURSE she’s ill-behaved. Let’s count how many dinner parties she attended during the first 11 years of her life in Nashville…ummm, yeah there was that one…lessee, and that other night….oh yeah, that’s right… ZERO would be how many dinner parties she attended before moving into the Williams-Sonoma sponsored epicenter of entertaining fetes here in California)
And there was that one incident where she nibbled on the neighbor’s finger…and it required stitches…and who even KNEW that you have arteries in your finger anyway??? Puh-leaze.
But even with her curmudgeon side, she has COMPLETELY conned the dog sitter into thinking she is starving to death. Yeah, you know the little Spanish cleaning lady who can’t seem to tolerate ME – yeah, she’s slipping Molly puperoni on the sly. “But ze is so hungreee.”
But ALL of that is going to pale in comparison to the story I will have to tell if she ever catches that skunk in the back yard.
And there was that one incident where she nibbled on the neighbor’s finger…and it required stitches…and who even KNEW that you have arteries in your finger anyway??? Puh-leaze.
But even with her curmudgeon side, she has COMPLETELY conned the dog sitter into thinking she is starving to death. Yeah, you know the little Spanish cleaning lady who can’t seem to tolerate ME – yeah, she’s slipping Molly puperoni on the sly. “But ze is so hungreee.”
But ALL of that is going to pale in comparison to the story I will have to tell if she ever catches that skunk in the back yard.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Riding with the Boys
My brother has recently started riding bikes. Despite coming to the sport in his fifties, he has really taken to it. So it was quite exciting that during my recent trip home, I got to ride with him and his buddies.
Upon joining the group…my first reaction was “Wow – and I thought girls spent a lot of money on their riding ensembles”. Clearly, it’s important to look good at 6 in the morning in Southern Indiana when not another living soul is awake to see you. Who knew they even made NASCAR biking apparel? Having not packed appropriately for the trip, I tried to ignore the fact that I was wearing one of dad’s old t-shirts and a set of knee socks.
I did notice that in between their 19 mph pace…there was a lot of banter about why my brother had to cut his ride short for an antique show. Then they quickly settled into a discussion about how they never get to ride very much…but that was mostly in between discussions of their Tuesday, Saturday, Sunday and weekday rides.
But if any of you are trying to feel better about your biking…might I suggest that you spend an entire ride drafting off some solid, 6’3” joe of a biker in Southern Indiana. I only had to peddle about once every six strokes and still managed 19 mph. Those tiny little bitches in California never create THAT kind of slipstream. But these guys really ARE great - there’s even a post-ride newsletter…but it mostly recounts the wrecks during the ride and includes helpful hints like “broken collarbones – fact or fiction”.
Upon joining the group…my first reaction was “Wow – and I thought girls spent a lot of money on their riding ensembles”. Clearly, it’s important to look good at 6 in the morning in Southern Indiana when not another living soul is awake to see you. Who knew they even made NASCAR biking apparel? Having not packed appropriately for the trip, I tried to ignore the fact that I was wearing one of dad’s old t-shirts and a set of knee socks.
I did notice that in between their 19 mph pace…there was a lot of banter about why my brother had to cut his ride short for an antique show. Then they quickly settled into a discussion about how they never get to ride very much…but that was mostly in between discussions of their Tuesday, Saturday, Sunday and weekday rides.
But if any of you are trying to feel better about your biking…might I suggest that you spend an entire ride drafting off some solid, 6’3” joe of a biker in Southern Indiana. I only had to peddle about once every six strokes and still managed 19 mph. Those tiny little bitches in California never create THAT kind of slipstream. But these guys really ARE great - there’s even a post-ride newsletter…but it mostly recounts the wrecks during the ride and includes helpful hints like “broken collarbones – fact or fiction”.
Monday, June 22, 2009
She may be back...
Top 10 reasons I may start blogging again:
- My boss has finally taken a vacation
- Most of my family has started talking to me again, so I figured…what the heck
- Molly’s intensive, in-patient obedience classes are finally over (if by “over”, you mean expelled)
- The summer really is high season for me doing stupid things…wait til I tell you about this sunburn…
- I finally managed to thin the herd of readers…don't tell Anonymous I'm back
- I actually did blog the entire spring – but thought better of posting any of the 53 installments about someone’s 50th birthday
- I cannot let another Sarah Palin appearance go by unremarked
- Did anyone know Rita took a new job
- Popular demand. Seriously, both emails were greatly appreciated.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Car Karma
Picture me….sitting comfortably on the Hertz shuttle bus at Boston Logan airport…a comfortable hour and ten minutes before takeoff…having just returned Miss Sally’s Toyota Corolla (read yesterday’s blog) to Hertz ….when…I realize… I. Don’t. Have. My. Wallet. I had it a MINUTE ago when I got gas at the EZFuel and Pay (they felt like they had to add that last part) in that completely dodgy part of Boston....Have you ever seen a fellow traveler jump from a moving Hertz shuttle bus? Not pretty.
What’s the FIRST thing you have to do in those situations? Okay – AFTER you call Nicola? That’s right, You. Have. To. RE-RENT your car to drive back to the crack house/EZ fuel emporium to search for your wallet. Did I mention I rented this car at the Wings airport? With NO reservation? And….ummmmm….NO. I. DON’T. have my driver’s license – weren’t you listening when I was crying hysterically about my lost wallet??? THAT re-rental transaction didn’t take long.
Finally…as I am trying to find the now re-rented Corolla for my panicked, quitoic quest for the lost wallet in Cracktown… some poor Hertz worker saw my flustered self and asked me if I needed help. I threw him the keys and replied…"thank you Jeeves…YOU drive”. So whether it was an approved absence or not…"Brian” and I are careening through East Boston trying to find EZCrack and Fuel where I last saw my wallet. [NOW I wish I had tidied up Miss Sally’s corolla a bit more before I returned it…"Sorry Brian, don’t mind those 35 diet coke cans on the floorboard. Next to the 3 USA Todays and a week’s worth of soda water bottles." {sigh} ]
More desperate than mortified, I got acquainted with Brian over THIS priceless ice-breaker:
Brian: “what gas station was it?”
Maeve: “Ummmm…. I don’t know?”
I am sure Brian was wondering what the hell he had gotten himself into with the crazy lady sitting next to him like some psychic trying to pick up a reading on the exact location of the gas station “I remember a bridge…and a Dunkin Donuts…I am picking up illegal activity nearby.”
When we finally pulled into Crackie McCrackie’s House of Gas, the guy behind the bullet proof glass (!) of the outdoor teller booth looks up with his 100% toothless smile and directs me inside the store. Get the $%#^ outta here…someone turned in my wallet???
When I asked the guy behind the counter at Amy Winehouse’s Discount Plaza if anyone had turned in a wallet, he asked me for the name on the license. After I told him…he asked me where I’m from so he could verify the location. Seriously? How many OTHER a) white girls b) who are looking for their lost wallets c) who are named Maeve McC come through here??!!?? Thank you for saving my wallet, asshole?
But there it was…the whole thick wallet. I went to tip Mr. Funnypants…but while my good Samaritan had no use for my Southwest credit cards (what…no miles?) the cash had had been picked clean. 150 bucks Stupid Tax. And in THIS neighborhood? $150 cash counts as a stimulus package. I know I’m taking a tax deduction for it.
AND I made my flight with 6 minutes to spare. I even had time to buy a NY Times (can you charge that $1.50 to my Southwest credit card?)
The moral to this story? Prepay the gas.
What’s the FIRST thing you have to do in those situations? Okay – AFTER you call Nicola? That’s right, You. Have. To. RE-RENT your car to drive back to the crack house/EZ fuel emporium to search for your wallet. Did I mention I rented this car at the Wings airport? With NO reservation? And….ummmmm….NO. I. DON’T. have my driver’s license – weren’t you listening when I was crying hysterically about my lost wallet??? THAT re-rental transaction didn’t take long.
Finally…as I am trying to find the now re-rented Corolla for my panicked, quitoic quest for the lost wallet in Cracktown… some poor Hertz worker saw my flustered self and asked me if I needed help. I threw him the keys and replied…"thank you Jeeves…YOU drive”. So whether it was an approved absence or not…"Brian” and I are careening through East Boston trying to find EZCrack and Fuel where I last saw my wallet. [NOW I wish I had tidied up Miss Sally’s corolla a bit more before I returned it…"Sorry Brian, don’t mind those 35 diet coke cans on the floorboard. Next to the 3 USA Todays and a week’s worth of soda water bottles." {sigh} ]
More desperate than mortified, I got acquainted with Brian over THIS priceless ice-breaker:
Brian: “what gas station was it?”
Maeve: “Ummmm…. I don’t know?”
I am sure Brian was wondering what the hell he had gotten himself into with the crazy lady sitting next to him like some psychic trying to pick up a reading on the exact location of the gas station “I remember a bridge…and a Dunkin Donuts…I am picking up illegal activity nearby.”
When we finally pulled into Crackie McCrackie’s House of Gas, the guy behind the bullet proof glass (!) of the outdoor teller booth looks up with his 100% toothless smile and directs me inside the store. Get the $%#^ outta here…someone turned in my wallet???
When I asked the guy behind the counter at Amy Winehouse’s Discount Plaza if anyone had turned in a wallet, he asked me for the name on the license. After I told him…he asked me where I’m from so he could verify the location. Seriously? How many OTHER a) white girls b) who are looking for their lost wallets c) who are named Maeve McC come through here??!!?? Thank you for saving my wallet, asshole?
But there it was…the whole thick wallet. I went to tip Mr. Funnypants…but while my good Samaritan had no use for my Southwest credit cards (what…no miles?) the cash had had been picked clean. 150 bucks Stupid Tax. And in THIS neighborhood? $150 cash counts as a stimulus package. I know I’m taking a tax deduction for it.
AND I made my flight with 6 minutes to spare. I even had time to buy a NY Times (can you charge that $1.50 to my Southwest credit card?)
The moral to this story? Prepay the gas.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Tweed International Airport
Tweed International Airport in New Haven, Connecticut is the airport where “Wings” was filmed. When I fly into that airport – I look for Crystal Bernard. There isn’t so much a terminal as there is a living room. The universal reaction to my travel itinerary is always “Tweed?? That’s still open?” Comforting. Baggage claim? Honest-to-god…they slide open what looks like a garage door and Tom Poston throws the bags across the threshold. I love it – I act like I’m on a chartered plane.
I arrived at good old Tweed International airport on Tuesday night to discover I had forgotten to make a car rental reservation (or I made it for the wrong airport or the wrong day or who knows…) Now, the car rental counters in the Tweed International Airport are just that…car rental counters. Avis & Hertz basically share a cubicle (I’ve seen call center operators with more space). And the Budget Car Rental person? That’s the Avis guy when he puts on a different ballcap. The entire New Haven rental car fleet must total like, 25 vehicles.
After Skippy at Avis/Budget determines that he is completely out of cars (seriously? in New Haven?), he leans back in his chair toward the lady at the “Hertz counter” and says “Miss Sally, do you have any cars?” Miss Sally?!?!? Does your kindergarten teacher work at the competition? Well….Miss Sally opens a drawer in her counter…looks into it…and says…”just one”. Ummmmm…no need to check a computer or anything, Miss Sally? Whatta am I? Renting Miss Sally’s personal Toyota Corolla?
After finally entering SOMETHING into the computer, Miss Sally then asks me when I am going to return my spiffy little Toyota Corolla. I did NOT have the heart to tell her I was returning it to Boston (next thing you know – they're down to twenty four cars in the fleet). I was afraid she wouldn’t give me the car! So I lied. “Um – back to you on Thursday afternoon, Miss Sally.”
And THAT is probably where my bad car karma originated (tune in tomorrow…)
I arrived at good old Tweed International airport on Tuesday night to discover I had forgotten to make a car rental reservation (or I made it for the wrong airport or the wrong day or who knows…) Now, the car rental counters in the Tweed International Airport are just that…car rental counters. Avis & Hertz basically share a cubicle (I’ve seen call center operators with more space). And the Budget Car Rental person? That’s the Avis guy when he puts on a different ballcap. The entire New Haven rental car fleet must total like, 25 vehicles.
After Skippy at Avis/Budget determines that he is completely out of cars (seriously? in New Haven?), he leans back in his chair toward the lady at the “Hertz counter” and says “Miss Sally, do you have any cars?” Miss Sally?!?!? Does your kindergarten teacher work at the competition? Well….Miss Sally opens a drawer in her counter…looks into it…and says…”just one”. Ummmmm…no need to check a computer or anything, Miss Sally? Whatta am I? Renting Miss Sally’s personal Toyota Corolla?
After finally entering SOMETHING into the computer, Miss Sally then asks me when I am going to return my spiffy little Toyota Corolla. I did NOT have the heart to tell her I was returning it to Boston (next thing you know – they're down to twenty four cars in the fleet). I was afraid she wouldn’t give me the car! So I lied. “Um – back to you on Thursday afternoon, Miss Sally.”
And THAT is probably where my bad car karma originated (tune in tomorrow…)
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