Good Bye Miami...Hello Tampa.
Or
Sure, Whatever.
I cannot stress enough the lack of love lost between Florida and me. Bugs Bunny once sawed off Florida and sent it drifting away in one of his cartoons. I see nothing wrong with that(as long as all my friends are nice and safe in Colorado first)
But Flordia is a fine state you say, how can you hate a state?
Because! I say to you. Because.
It is probably just how I remember things, but bad or inconvenient things always seem to happen to me in Flordia. Not saying that crappy things don't happen to me elsewhere I just don't remember them quite like I do if I were in Flordia.
Case in point. Friday was our last day at work in Miami. I was glad to be going home and glad to be leaving the client site. Jane (assumed name) and I were just about to leave the client site when Jane received a call from our boss. Jane no longer had a job. I cannot speak for Jane (I know we all know how that kind of loss will send your world spinning) so I will speak for myself (as I usually do)IT SUCKED. What sucked worse was that while she was leaving for home out of the Miami airport, I was leaving out of the Ft. Lauderdale airport (an hour away...at best).
I offered to take a cab to Ft. Lauderdale, but being a trooper she said '...don't be silly.'
So here I am feeling like a complete ass while she calls her support lines to let them know of her situation as I drive myself to the airport. I try to be as small as possible and try not to remind her of ex-job.
Once we get to the airport we say our awkward goodbyes and I go into the airport to begin my weekend of debauchery. (P.S. We still talk, she is doing just fine. As is the case in most of these situations...it was a blessing in disguise)
My flight was at 7:10pm. I checked my watch as I walk up to the counter to check in. 2:15pm. This is going to be a longer day than it already has been. The lady at the Southwest counter was really very helpful. (yes it actually CAN happen) She told me that I couldn't check bags more than 4 hours before a flight.
Sure, what ever.
I asked if I could catch an earlier flight. She said that the 2:50 flight was delayed due to weather and maybe I could get on that one. I was dubious but..
Sure, what ever.
She checked me in and sent me on my way. My plan was to check the gate to make sure I knew when the plane was leaving, make sure I was on that plane, then sit down to have a beer and talk to my boss about my survivor guilt.
I called my Kim in Tampa (Vanbrunt) to tell her I was on an earlier flight. That is when she told me that they were having the worst weather they have had since the hurricane. Her pool was flooding, roofs were caving in all over the city and that they were in a tornado WARNING until 3:30pm. Just as my jaw was dropping the lady in the unfortunate Southwest uniform announced that 'due to weather, this flight to Tampa was cancelled.' UG! Annoyed, I picked up my belongings with intent to have a good long drink at the bar (At least I will get SOMETHING accomplished albeit a buzz) and wait for the weather to clear. At worst, I could catch my original flight at 7:10. That is when the oh so lovely dulcimer voice of the frazzled counter agent came back on the loudspeaker. 'We ask that you stay in the gate area as we are arranging alternate transportation for you.'
Alternate transportation???!! What? you've booked us an air boat?
Still more annoyed I sat myself down and watched as happy travelers boarded OUR plane for another destination (their plane was grounded for mechanical reasons...so since ours wasn't going to Tampa they took ours)
The man next to me began to discuss rather loudly his dissatisfaction to no one in particular.
'I travel all the time, I land in this kind of shit ALL THE TIME. THIS IS BULLSHIT.'
Sure, whatever.
I walked away.
Some minutes wasted away before our fates were revealed. We were told that our luggage could be claimed at carousel #6 then we could take our baggage and board the Grey Hound Bus they had ordered for us.
Yes, you read that right....a Bus. The alternate transportation was a bus. I considered my options.
Wait for the 7:10 flight that I am booked on that will be over loaded with EXTREMELY annoyed passengers and take the chance that not only the weather will clear but that the airport will allow in flights. If they are allowing in flights it will surely be backed up from all the other cities wanting in. No, I think the best thing to do is take the sure thing, though it would be slow going.
With a deep sigh...I head down to baggage claim to claim my baggage.
As I am getting my bags I run into the 'BULLSHIT' man.
"Can you believe....a fucking bus man!...this is bullshit."
Calmly I told him that I would rather be safe than fly into a tornado. He paused ever so briefly to contemplate this, then shook off the sense that it made.
"I fly all the time, I land in this shit all the time."
Sure, what ever
I gave him my raised eyebrow look.
"You taking the bus??!!" he said incredulously.
I was thinking of discussing my well thought out reasoning in hopes of making him SEE but opted for something I thought he could better understand.
"Yes."
"Well I got a flight on Delta...fuck this Southwest bullshit"
I had the slightest urge to try to rationalize with him. One airline does not have immunity over weather. Can you picture a big immunity stick strapped on the top of a Delta plane?! Big shaman feathers hanging over the cockpit windows. Bells and chickens feet flopping allover the place.
"Good luck." I said as I continued dragging my 80 pound suit case across the airport.
"Good luck to you." he said in a not so sincere tone. Still flabbergasted that I was taking a bus. (him and me both to be honest)
I get to the bus and with a few shuffling here and there. I position myself and feather my bus seat nest. I call my Kim.
"YOUR ON A WHAT???!!!!"
"a bus."
"THEY PUT YOU ON A BUS??!!"
"yes."
"A BUS??!!"
silence on my end
laughter on her end
"When are you leaving?"
"i don't know."
"You don't know when you are leaving?"
"when everyone gets here i guess."
"Who's all coming?"
"the people on the plane."
"When will you get here?"
"i don't know."
"They didn't tell you when you would get here?"
"i'm just glad they are doing anything at all. if i were anywhere else they wouldn't even offer up hotel for 'acts of god'"
"I can't believe you are on a bus."
"i can't believe i'm still in flordia."
It was then I realized I never did get my drink.
"god i want a drink."
(have you noticed the case when I speak...I was feeling very depressed)
"Well let me know when you leave...Do you know where they will drop you off?"
"no. i imagine the airport, but i don't know. i just grabbed my luggage and got on the bus before it left. i will ask later."
So we hung up. I took out my Sudoku book and a bottle of water . Prepared for a long long night.
Sure, whatever.
Sometime into the trip Kim calls again.
"where are you?"
"on a bus."
"Ha Ha. Where in the state are you?"
"how the fuck should i know."
"Well what does it look like outside?"
"SWAMP!"
"Well are there any signs?"
"I've been avoiding looking at all the swamp."
"Well when you see signs for (forgot city name) then you have about an hour to go. Call me and let me know."
"o.k. we are going to stop somewhere for a 'dinner break'. i will call you then, hopefully i will know more."
You know....I must say, Kim was very tolerant of my crappy attitude. She let me be a right bitch. Its good to have friends. :)
The bus stopped in some godforsaken McDonalds parking lot in some godforsaken city in Flordia, pissing down with rain and lightning as if the universe itself was not amused with Flordia. As I stood in line waiting for my 6 piece chicken mcnuggets the man behind me said
"I'm just getting a large soda, my wife was making fun of me when I was packing that bottle of rum...she ain't making fun of me now."
My mouth watered. Had he been single..I might have asked him over to my feathered bus nest. Hell, maybe I could ask for some anyway. As I took in his exuberance and his swagger, I decided to stay far away from him and his wife.
To make this short story less long I will cut right to the point where I get to the Tampa airport....6 hours later.
Sure, whatever.
The two buses pull into (the Tampa airport)the worst traffic jam I have seen in a while. There were WAY TOO many cars there. Both Kims were in Vanbrunts car waiting to pick me up. Parker met me where the bus dropped me off and instead of wait for Vanbrunt to find us and pick us up we gathered my luggage and went to find her in the lines of traffic. So here we were weaving in and out of car traffic on foot. When we found Vanbrunt she stopped, popped the back, Parker threw in my 'rock' as she called it and we got in and drove away.
Needless to say the second we got back to Kim's I had a drink.
Damn Skippy.
and thus began our weekend of girlish debauchery which is a whole other blog. Nothing really quite so funny...except for that man in Ybor city. I have a video of him and will try to post it on either my blog or my picture trail. It is inanely funny.
My next trip is to Terre Huate in March. Don't expect stories like these...but I will try to meet up with the Cases (a.k.a. Mesics) either in Terra Haute or Wisconson. Just so you know.
P.S. You're welcome to stop by if you'd like :)
Bliss to you all.
Sunday, February 12, 2006
Saturday, February 11, 2006
The Tale of the Penis tattoo.....
I hope this doesn't loose too much in the translation. Every time I tell this story in person I get huge laughs. (tough I have only told 4 people).
SO here goes.
After our long night and morning at the Hard Rock Casino. We slept late. (duh) But there were plans for the day. Jennifer (see pic in Everything Begins with A Beginning) wanted to go get a tattoo. Of course since we were in Miami...We loaded up the two separate cars and headed to Miami Beach. Home of...You guessed it, Miami Ink.
Though I am aware of the show, I have never watched a second of it. So I had no particular feelings one way or another about getting a tattoo there. I had been thinking for quite some time about getting another one but was unsure as to what exactly. I discussed my feelings with my car mates (Kimmy V and Brad) Brad being a very sensitive and creative guy thought on it for about 5 minutes then suggested I get a footprint because of my fascination with my feet. Those of you who know me need no explanation. Those of you who don't need only go to the 'Feet on Parade' photo album on my picture trail link. This, I thought, was a brilliant idea. I would get a foot print in a dark blue 'Earth' color first,then I would research the perfect word for 'one who wanders' and get that added to it later. I was kind of excited.
Once we got to Miami and paid a million bucks to park, we started on foot to Miami Ink. We had to ask directions a few times...I felt like a total tourist...Then again...We were tourists so who cares!
The joint has an unassuming facade. One almost wouldn't even know it was a tattoo parlour were it not for the confluence of alternatively dressed and openly pierced men loitering around.
We had to wait a bit before anyone came to help us (and there were a lot of us) I assume this was a strategy to weed out the curious. Brad, Jennifer and I were the only ones who were getting tattoos (though I was still not convinced) When I did speak to someone and he told me the price....I said OH HELL NO! $150 - $200 for a foot print. Not bloody likely. Now I am not one to put a price on art. I completely understand the whole creative process. But I'm not asking for a portrait...Just a stupid little foot. I said NO.
Kim Vanbrunt said she would give me some cash and I could put the rest on my card. Brad reiterated 'now you can say you got a tat at Miami ink' It didn't mean much to me really....But...When in Rome right? (besides, I would have a story to tell...I just didn't know how much of a story) SO! I forked over Kimmy V's cash and a card of my own and sat and waited for my 'artist' to be ready for me.
My guy sounded a bit dubious about it.
'You want a foot???!!!'
But he drew it out for me. I asked for a toe ring, he agreed to it and we were in business. As you can maybe tell in the pic, I got it at the nape of my neck. I hurt like a mother. As you might know, after a while the pain was kind of cleansing in a masochistic way. My guy was getting into it. I heard him laughing and saying
"This looks awesome! The toe ring came out great!" That made me happy. When we were done he showed it to me. It looked like it could be a foot...Once it healed. So I said thanks and traipsed on my merry way. I still wasn't convinced that I needed a tattoo, but there was no going back now.
Later that night as we were all preparing for bed (I was staying in the same hotel as the Kims) It was time to take off the bandages and inspect the 'art'. I took mine off and stood with my back to everyone waiting for the verdict. It was strangely silent. Brad broke the silence.
"It's a penis."
His wife and my friend immediately admonished him "BRAD!!!!" and tried to reassure me "NO it doesn't!"
"Yes it does...Look" I heard Kim shush him "there are the balls and the tip." he defended himself as he giggled a little.
I felt the blood rush to my head. I ran to the bathroom. Kim saying behind me "Meghan it really doesn't"
"Mirror please" was all I said. I stood with my back to the mirror dreading looking. pleaseopleaseoplease don't let it look like a penis. To my horror, it most sincerely did. (unfortunately I don't have a pic...Cause it's funny now) The foot was there...but it was his 'artistic' shading that conveyed the perverted undertones. Think of the balls of your feet as just that with the heel of your foot as the head. Because you have an arch in your foot, the side of a foot print is a narrow shaft with a bulbus end to it....curving to the right. Did you remember the tat was blue? ARRRRRGGGGGHHHHH!
Talk about buyers regret. Not a damn thing I could do about it. I was inconsolable for about 30 minutes. It became the elephant in the room that everyone was looking at but no one would talk about.
That night I didn't sleep well. The tattoo was still a bit sore so made its depraved presence known to me while I slept on my back. Sleeping on my stomach didn't help either. I knew it was there. All I could think about was my 'artist' no wonder he was laughing.
The morning came with new clarity. I would just go back and have him fix it. However I had to work and I was going home that following weekend. The penis would just have to wait. Needless to say I told no one what I did that weekend.
When I went home for the weekend I had a few beers and ended up telling two friends of my paint faux pas. I don't think I've heard them laugh so hard, EVER! I was then dubbed 'penis back' for the remainder of the night and all the next day as we watched the Broncos get their asses beat in the Superbowl playoff thingy (I think they got beat by Pittsburgh) What could I do. I actually WAS a penis back.
Back in Miami I had to wait another week before I could go off to Miami Ink and be 're-touched' (which may be a bad word choice) I was dreading it. This time I had to go alone. I waited until Sunday afternoon. Shyly I approached the plain building. There weren't as many people there this time. I stood at the desk, not quite knowing what to say. A guy comes up to me.
"What can I do for you?" I told him how I got a tattoo here two weeks ago and it isn't quite what I wanted.
"What did you want?" he instantly sounded annoyed. I sheepishly told him that I wanted a foot and got a penis.
"Let me see the tattoo." I bowed my head forward much like someone would if they were preparing it for the guillotine.
"Ma' am' would you move your hair!" Oh shit...I'm all of a sudden a ma'am. This can't be good. "Who did your tattoo?!'"he demanded. I didn't know his name...but I did have his pic. So I pulled out my camera and showed him. It looked like the guy standing in the corner.
"OK, go stand over there we'll have someone come out to help you." I nervously stood, looking at the guy who I thought was my 'artist'. Some other guy comes out this time.
"Can I help you?"
I said I would like to have my tattoo re (em) touched.
"Let me see the tattoo." I presented the offending ink.
"And what's wrong it?" He said defensively.
"It's a penis on my back. That is not where I usually like my penises to be.' I replied. He didn't laugh.
"When did you get this done?" he asked.
"Two weeks ago." I said again.
"YOU HAVE TO WAIT LONGER THAN THAT TO RE DO IT!!!"
"I don't live here.....please!!!!" I begged.
About that time my 'artist' came over and said something like 'Hey...what's up...I remember you.' I told him my sad tale. He took one look at the tat and started cracking up.
"OH my god...I did draw a penis on you!!! Come on girl I'll fix you up."
The blood came back to my face at that point. I said a silent prayer both of thanks and one that he doesn't render his 'artistic' eye in a new way on my back.
Once I sat down, he told his ink mate,
"Hey dude, look what I gave this chick...a penis!" His mate leaned over and said...
"Yep and it leans to the right no less" Then I added...
"Don't forget the cock ring" My 'artist' looked in closer and let out a big gaffaw when he remembered the toe ring. He was totally cool about it but the others in the 'gallery of rogues' kept looking our way.
"Hey (forgot his name) I thought you didn't do re-touches"
"Only this one time." He replied.
Once he was done filling in the foot, he let me look at it again. Not like I would be able to distinguish the subtle shading under all the blood. So I said
"Yeah that will be good."
He said "Yes it is." in a way that told me he would not 'fix' it again.
I gratefully skipped out of there. NEVER TO RETURN. I haven't really looked at it since. Others have told me that there are no phantom penises on my back. That's good enough for me right now.
Now I'm not going to say don't go to Miami Ink. Brad and Jennifer had a great experience and my 'artist' was kinda cool about it all. But make no mistake, they are defiantly full of themselves there. Be prepared to pay exorbitant prices for even the smallest of tats. Mine was just a wee foot of one color.
Thus ends that story.....but wait...I've not yet left Flordia. There is one more story to tell.
I hope this doesn't loose too much in the translation. Every time I tell this story in person I get huge laughs. (tough I have only told 4 people).
SO here goes.
After our long night and morning at the Hard Rock Casino. We slept late. (duh) But there were plans for the day. Jennifer (see pic in Everything Begins with A Beginning) wanted to go get a tattoo. Of course since we were in Miami...We loaded up the two separate cars and headed to Miami Beach. Home of...You guessed it, Miami Ink.
Though I am aware of the show, I have never watched a second of it. So I had no particular feelings one way or another about getting a tattoo there. I had been thinking for quite some time about getting another one but was unsure as to what exactly. I discussed my feelings with my car mates (Kimmy V and Brad) Brad being a very sensitive and creative guy thought on it for about 5 minutes then suggested I get a footprint because of my fascination with my feet. Those of you who know me need no explanation. Those of you who don't need only go to the 'Feet on Parade' photo album on my picture trail link. This, I thought, was a brilliant idea. I would get a foot print in a dark blue 'Earth' color first,then I would research the perfect word for 'one who wanders' and get that added to it later. I was kind of excited.
Once we got to Miami and paid a million bucks to park, we started on foot to Miami Ink. We had to ask directions a few times...I felt like a total tourist...Then again...We were tourists so who cares!
The joint has an unassuming facade. One almost wouldn't even know it was a tattoo parlour were it not for the confluence of alternatively dressed and openly pierced men loitering around.
We had to wait a bit before anyone came to help us (and there were a lot of us) I assume this was a strategy to weed out the curious. Brad, Jennifer and I were the only ones who were getting tattoos (though I was still not convinced) When I did speak to someone and he told me the price....I said OH HELL NO! $150 - $200 for a foot print. Not bloody likely. Now I am not one to put a price on art. I completely understand the whole creative process. But I'm not asking for a portrait...Just a stupid little foot. I said NO.
Kim Vanbrunt said she would give me some cash and I could put the rest on my card. Brad reiterated 'now you can say you got a tat at Miami ink' It didn't mean much to me really....But...When in Rome right? (besides, I would have a story to tell...I just didn't know how much of a story) SO! I forked over Kimmy V's cash and a card of my own and sat and waited for my 'artist' to be ready for me.
My guy sounded a bit dubious about it.
'You want a foot???!!!'
But he drew it out for me. I asked for a toe ring, he agreed to it and we were in business. As you can maybe tell in the pic, I got it at the nape of my neck. I hurt like a mother. As you might know, after a while the pain was kind of cleansing in a masochistic way. My guy was getting into it. I heard him laughing and saying
"This looks awesome! The toe ring came out great!" That made me happy. When we were done he showed it to me. It looked like it could be a foot...Once it healed. So I said thanks and traipsed on my merry way. I still wasn't convinced that I needed a tattoo, but there was no going back now.
Later that night as we were all preparing for bed (I was staying in the same hotel as the Kims) It was time to take off the bandages and inspect the 'art'. I took mine off and stood with my back to everyone waiting for the verdict. It was strangely silent. Brad broke the silence.
"It's a penis."
His wife and my friend immediately admonished him "BRAD!!!!" and tried to reassure me "NO it doesn't!"
"Yes it does...Look" I heard Kim shush him "there are the balls and the tip." he defended himself as he giggled a little.
I felt the blood rush to my head. I ran to the bathroom. Kim saying behind me "Meghan it really doesn't"
"Mirror please" was all I said. I stood with my back to the mirror dreading looking. pleaseopleaseoplease don't let it look like a penis. To my horror, it most sincerely did. (unfortunately I don't have a pic...Cause it's funny now) The foot was there...but it was his 'artistic' shading that conveyed the perverted undertones. Think of the balls of your feet as just that with the heel of your foot as the head. Because you have an arch in your foot, the side of a foot print is a narrow shaft with a bulbus end to it....curving to the right. Did you remember the tat was blue? ARRRRRGGGGGHHHHH!
Talk about buyers regret. Not a damn thing I could do about it. I was inconsolable for about 30 minutes. It became the elephant in the room that everyone was looking at but no one would talk about.
That night I didn't sleep well. The tattoo was still a bit sore so made its depraved presence known to me while I slept on my back. Sleeping on my stomach didn't help either. I knew it was there. All I could think about was my 'artist' no wonder he was laughing.
The morning came with new clarity. I would just go back and have him fix it. However I had to work and I was going home that following weekend. The penis would just have to wait. Needless to say I told no one what I did that weekend.
When I went home for the weekend I had a few beers and ended up telling two friends of my paint faux pas. I don't think I've heard them laugh so hard, EVER! I was then dubbed 'penis back' for the remainder of the night and all the next day as we watched the Broncos get their asses beat in the Superbowl playoff thingy (I think they got beat by Pittsburgh) What could I do. I actually WAS a penis back.
Back in Miami I had to wait another week before I could go off to Miami Ink and be 're-touched' (which may be a bad word choice) I was dreading it. This time I had to go alone. I waited until Sunday afternoon. Shyly I approached the plain building. There weren't as many people there this time. I stood at the desk, not quite knowing what to say. A guy comes up to me.
"What can I do for you?" I told him how I got a tattoo here two weeks ago and it isn't quite what I wanted.
"What did you want?" he instantly sounded annoyed. I sheepishly told him that I wanted a foot and got a penis.
"Let me see the tattoo." I bowed my head forward much like someone would if they were preparing it for the guillotine.
"Ma' am' would you move your hair!" Oh shit...I'm all of a sudden a ma'am. This can't be good. "Who did your tattoo?!'"he demanded. I didn't know his name...but I did have his pic. So I pulled out my camera and showed him. It looked like the guy standing in the corner.
"OK, go stand over there we'll have someone come out to help you." I nervously stood, looking at the guy who I thought was my 'artist'. Some other guy comes out this time.
"Can I help you?"
I said I would like to have my tattoo re (em) touched.
"Let me see the tattoo." I presented the offending ink.
"And what's wrong it?" He said defensively.
"It's a penis on my back. That is not where I usually like my penises to be.' I replied. He didn't laugh.
"When did you get this done?" he asked.
"Two weeks ago." I said again.
"YOU HAVE TO WAIT LONGER THAN THAT TO RE DO IT!!!"
"I don't live here.....please!!!!" I begged.
About that time my 'artist' came over and said something like 'Hey...what's up...I remember you.' I told him my sad tale. He took one look at the tat and started cracking up.
"OH my god...I did draw a penis on you!!! Come on girl I'll fix you up."
The blood came back to my face at that point. I said a silent prayer both of thanks and one that he doesn't render his 'artistic' eye in a new way on my back.
Once I sat down, he told his ink mate,
"Hey dude, look what I gave this chick...a penis!" His mate leaned over and said...
"Yep and it leans to the right no less" Then I added...
"Don't forget the cock ring" My 'artist' looked in closer and let out a big gaffaw when he remembered the toe ring. He was totally cool about it but the others in the 'gallery of rogues' kept looking our way.
"Hey (forgot his name) I thought you didn't do re-touches"
"Only this one time." He replied.
Once he was done filling in the foot, he let me look at it again. Not like I would be able to distinguish the subtle shading under all the blood. So I said
"Yeah that will be good."
He said "Yes it is." in a way that told me he would not 'fix' it again.
I gratefully skipped out of there. NEVER TO RETURN. I haven't really looked at it since. Others have told me that there are no phantom penises on my back. That's good enough for me right now.
Now I'm not going to say don't go to Miami Ink. Brad and Jennifer had a great experience and my 'artist' was kinda cool about it all. But make no mistake, they are defiantly full of themselves there. Be prepared to pay exorbitant prices for even the smallest of tats. Mine was just a wee foot of one color.
Thus ends that story.....but wait...I've not yet left Flordia. There is one more story to tell.
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
While I was there I became totally addicted to Cafe Cuban. OH MY GOD that stuff is good.
For those of you who have yet to have the tasty pleasure, it is basically half expresso and half sugar. But don't bother with anything you find in the store pre-made. Unless you have it made by a zaftig little lady in a blue uniform with a white apron who doesn't speak a lick of english it just doesn't taste the same. OH man I wish I had some now. Oh I also became addicted to plantains. I had some for dessert everyday for 4 weeks. Oh and Guava pastries. Those are good. Then there is the cuban sandwich...those are quite tasty. Yeah, I like cuban food.
For those of you who have yet to have the tasty pleasure, it is basically half expresso and half sugar. But don't bother with anything you find in the store pre-made. Unless you have it made by a zaftig little lady in a blue uniform with a white apron who doesn't speak a lick of english it just doesn't taste the same. OH man I wish I had some now. Oh I also became addicted to plantains. I had some for dessert everyday for 4 weeks. Oh and Guava pastries. Those are good. Then there is the cuban sandwich...those are quite tasty. Yeah, I like cuban food.
Monday, February 06, 2006
All things begin with a beginning
I always said that blogging was stupid. You know that old saying that opinions are like ass holes...everyone has one. I wasn't too keen to either know about others or talk about mine. Yet, here I am...
I thought it might (only just might) interest my friends and family to keep up with me on my travels. It took me only 2 months to get my Christma-Newyear-entine card out to everyone. While I enjoyed the writing, it was the posting that got me. The stamp increase, the expired address from all my wandering friends (and...err....bad info from an expired palm pilot...let that be a lesson to you all...keep a current back up of your palm pilot)
So I decided to give this blogging thing a try.
So, the new job took me to Miami for the month of January. I think everyone here knows my distaste for the Sunshine state. I'm sorry to say that my opinion has not changed. Though I did meet new friends whom I would love to visit...but they would probably have more fun here :)
I met up with some old friends too, my Kims. Kim Parker and Kim VanBrunt. Parker works for Media General at a station (WJWB) in Jacksonville FL. VanBrunt worked for Marketron (a competitor to my company VCI) and lives in Tampa. We all met at Enterprise/Encoda/Harris in Colorado Springs.
ANYWAY...
VanBrunt and I were in Miami the weekend of Jan 13 working. Parker and her husband flew out to meet us. The Kims have a friend Diane who lives in Miami and Diane brought her friend Jennifer (who flew in from New York) Diane later introduced us to Albert and Josh. So it was a full night. We went to the Hard Rock Casino, had dinner and went to the Comedy Store. (I think that was the name of it) The head liner was Dave Atel whom (is that right...whom?) I love. He was good. The guy before him was....different and just a bit scary. I don't remember names. (come on now..you know me better than that)
I thought it might (only just might) interest my friends and family to keep up with me on my travels. It took me only 2 months to get my Christma-Newyear-entine card out to everyone. While I enjoyed the writing, it was the posting that got me. The stamp increase, the expired address from all my wandering friends (and...err....bad info from an expired palm pilot...let that be a lesson to you all...keep a current back up of your palm pilot)
So I decided to give this blogging thing a try.
So, the new job took me to Miami for the month of January. I think everyone here knows my distaste for the Sunshine state. I'm sorry to say that my opinion has not changed. Though I did meet new friends whom I would love to visit...but they would probably have more fun here :)
I met up with some old friends too, my Kims. Kim Parker and Kim VanBrunt. Parker works for Media General at a station (WJWB) in Jacksonville FL. VanBrunt worked for Marketron (a competitor to my company VCI) and lives in Tampa. We all met at Enterprise/Encoda/Harris in Colorado Springs.
ANYWAY...
VanBrunt and I were in Miami the weekend of Jan 13 working. Parker and her husband flew out to meet us. The Kims have a friend Diane who lives in Miami and Diane brought her friend Jennifer (who flew in from New York) Diane later introduced us to Albert and Josh. So it was a full night. We went to the Hard Rock Casino, had dinner and went to the Comedy Store. (I think that was the name of it) The head liner was Dave Atel whom (is that right...whom?) I love. He was good. The guy before him was....different and just a bit scary. I don't remember names. (come on now..you know me better than that)
So, Guy in way back with smirk = Brad. Guy with big smile = Albert. Me. VanBrunt. Woman with khaki jacket = Parker. Jennifer. Diane. Josh.
That was taken at the casino. I'm surprised we all looked so good. It was very early in the morning and the drinks at the Comedy Store were not weak!!! If you want to see more photos of the night...go to my picture trail link.
That was about it for that night. But wait...there's more.
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