Sunday, August 31, 2008

Something Holistic - in New York?


Weekend mornings are quiet in Manhattan - even when it's not a holiday. I can appreciate a city where any hour before noon is seemingly uncivilized - and brunch is served proudly until 4 PM. Finally, a place that gets it.

Taking advantage of the quiet city, I headed to (shocker) Exhale for some Core Fusion at noon, while Brad went for a run. After taunting us with the possibility of rain, this morning unveiled clear sunshine and 84-degree weather, which is expected to maintain throughout the week. So what better time than today to, after our workouts, take Moby for his first NY bath? Because after a trip across the country and romps throughout the parks, he was...decidedly...funky.

I, of course, had done some earlier research on the proper bathing establishment for Moby. We don't have him professionally groomed. The only folks besides us who bathe him are the staff at his SF daycare spot. And after seeing some of the dogs in this city with their wild blowouts and pom-pom hair, we weren't about to turn him over to a salon for the first time...here.

A search for "self-service dog bathing" in the area didn't yield many results - but Holistic Hydrosurge stood out as a bright spot in the small bunch. The owner has some crazy dog grooming and handling credentials; has patented some sort of super-dog-bathing-hose, and really hit my San Francisco soft spot with claims of holistic care. In fact, his baths (which you do yourself, with his guidance) even massage your dog's spleen and liver, promoting better health! I love this place.

And Moby loved it to. After combining some ingredients the owner promised would "bring out his highlights," (his words, NOT mine), Moby looked very pleased. Sure, it cost 4x as much as a normal self-service bath back home - and more than 2x SF daycare bathing services - but it's HOLISTIC!

We rewarded ourselves with legitimate NY bagels from H&H (YUM) - a strong recovery after I accidentally took a fork to my NY pizza last night - oops. You can take the girl out of California, but you cannot take the California out of the girl.

Saturday, August 30, 2008

Ben


New York is a great city for sure - perhaps the greatest city in the world. The ability to eat whatever you want whenever you want, find whatever you need whenever you need it, and have whatever you want delivered whenever you pick up the phone is incomparable.

But there are a few serious transgressions.

First what happened to toilet seat covers east of California? Where did they go? And why oh why, in a city with this many people, quite a few of whom demonstrate poor hygeine, would there be no barrier between myself and that seat?

On that note, why does New York do such a poor job of restocking public restroom toilet paper? Thankfully, my handbag is large enough to accommodate a roll of Charmin - because that's what I'm going to be packing with me from now on.

Now for the most serious issue...the issue I thought surely must merely be an overblown urban myth of sorts. I mean, the number of rats in this city surely cannot be greater than the number of people...right? That would suggest you should see them just out and about, practically going out for coffee.

And so that's what you see. The other night marked the first incident. Marching proudly up 89th St. just off West End, this rat looked like it was on its way to the local watering hole. And then just tonight, as we sat unassumingly on a bench in a park plaza, I noticed Brad looking towards the landscaping behind us. I immediately fixed my eyes on Ben. I jumped up off the bench faster than Usain Bolt coming out of the blocks. A guy even approached us to ask what we saw - I had no shame in saying it was a rat, and I wasn't down with it. He chuckled. This city isn't civilized.

On a high note, when not avoiding infectious diseases transmitted via toilet seat or rat, this experience is a 10 out of 10. It's so easy to get lost in the day exploring and people-watching. Today, for example, after a 12:30 yoga class, Brad and I enjoyed a delicious brunch and found ourselves walking from the south side of Central Park to Riverside Park to meet up with a friend. On our way, we discovered a mini-amusement park with rides I would definitely throw up on, and stumbled upon The Dakota. Outside of this apartment building, pictured above, John Lennon was assasinated - and Yoko Ono still lives there today.

Tomorrow, I may launch a movement to install toilet seat dispensers in public restrooms, along with actual toilet paper. In the meantime, I'm looking out for Ben.

Friday, August 29, 2008

Political Party


So everyone knows by now, if they somehow didn't already, that I am a card-carrying member of the Democratic party, practically rabid about politics - and a huge Obama supporter. So what better way to spend last night, the 45th anniversary of MLK's famous "I Have a Dream" speech and of course, Obama's acceptance speech, than in a bar full of other people just as fired up as I am about November? Who knows how much email we're about to begin receiving from the Democratic Leadership for the 21st Century, who sponsored the DNC-viewing event...but it was a good time!

In case you missed it, Al Gore reminded us he knows a thing or two about close elections; and Obama stopped just short of calling George W. Bush an asshole, and McCain a moron for standing beside him. Quick point on this one - we've all stood up and cheered for the decorated war veteran John McCain, and no one can take that away from him. Long pause. But has anyone else considered how awkward it could be to put a former POW into the most powerful office in the world? I mean, here's the thing. If I'd been a POW, I'd be pretty pissed off - with just cause. I might have some "anger issues," and suffer from some "post-traumatic stress disorder" that maybe the U.S. presidential office isn't well suited for. I'm just saying.

And now, should (God forbid) Old Man McCain be elected President and kick the bucket while in office (it's not that 72 is *that* old - it's just that he hasn't worn those years very well), we have Sarah Palin - who, by the way, could *only* have placed in a beauty pageant in Alaska, where the population is 16. WTF.

I suppose I'll spare you all any further ranting, and move on to what came after the viewing party - Stanford football! Who knew they would even show a Stanford game in a Manhattan bar? And who knew there would be *other* Stanford fans there? Most shocking is that we actually won the game against Oregon State. Weird.

Today, it was back to Exhale for Core Fusion after Thursday off. This place is awesome and hilarious. I have no idea how so many people are able to escape to the spa for treatments and workouts in the middle of the day, but here they all are. Each day I've witnessed a special New Yorker in class. Wednesday, for example, it was a 60-year-old woman in a belted leotard over red knee-length leggings with black leg warmers. Today's crazy lady looked entirely different, though...

She was 30-35, very trim and fit, with inflated boobs. While everyone else had accessories and props for the class - weights and straps, for example - she additionally had her Blackberry, giant watch and post-it notepad. Every now and then, she would approach the mirrored wall closely to check herself out - as though anything was possibly out of place or imperfect.

During the workout, while everyone else had 2- and 3-pound weights, she had 5-pound weights. When the instructor invited us to slide into our splits, she did so like a ballerina, leaning over her front leg with only her giant boobs to prop her up off the floor. And because I am the luckiest person alive, I got to spend the entire class right next to her. I may not be able to walk tomorrow, because I did my best to out-stretch, out-squat, out-pulse, and out-lift this desperate housewife. As the instructor reminded us all, "This class is all about you - not the person next to you or in front of you - just you," I thought, "Duh, of course it is - why do you think I'm kicking this woman's ass right now?

Tonight, we're heading out with Dan (Dingo) Brown and a friend of his who lives in the neighborhood. May God grant me mobility.

Thursday, August 28, 2008

Ladies Who Lunch


Today was a big day. See, this morning was my first trip to the hair salon. And I expect just about all of you reading this blog know what that means to me. As far as I'm concerned, walking into a new hair salon is a lot like showing up for your first day of school - you look around, you don't know anyone, they don't know you, and who knows what's going to happen when it's all over - you might go home with a black eye.

But things were off to a good start. The salon sits on the Upper East Side just a few blocks from Bloomingdale's - they get at least one point for that. And when I was buzzed up to the second floor space, I was greeted by a cute receptionist with a stylish haircut - another point in their favor - because there's nothing worse than that awkward feeling you get when the chicks at the hair salon have jacked up heads, and you wonder who did that to them. Ah, she's just offered me something to drink - great - cute and hospitable - another point.

But where is my stylist? My appointment is at 10:30, but I get the feeling she's not in the salon at the moment. 5 minutes. 10 minutes. Ah, 25 minutes, here she is. Okay, so time is not their thing - but can I really subtract a point for that? I mean, time isn't my thing either. This means I can be late and not feel bad. I'm giving them another point.

1 hour 20 minutes later, and I emerge looking better than I did when I went in - thank God, that is the point, after all. I shall return next week.

With a spring in my hair and my step, I bounced a few blocks over to Barneys, where I thought I'd just "look around." (Read: Shop with the intent of purchasing.) While in the dressing room, I overhear:

"Oh, this is too short to wear to synagogue, don't you think?"
"Ummm...yes...that probably is."

But Barneys, you've never let me down, and I'm sure you wouldn't let down the nice woman looking to make herself presentable in front of her rabbi, either.

And of course, shopping makes me hungry. So I headed upstairs to Fred's to have a bite to eat at the bar - because this is how you can best eavesdrop on conversations and people-watch. Two things I noticed immediately: I was the only woman not eating salad, and I was the only woman not drinking an alcoholic beverage. For God's sake, what sorrows are these women drowning at 3:00 in the afternoon? Was there a run on Prada peep-toes? Are Louis Vuitton bags actually made in China? Did Donatella Versace finally OD?

All in all, it was a good day that ended with a night out watching the DNC in a bar full of Democrats. More on that tomorrow...

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

Television Doesn't Lie


The scene unfolded last night at this Upper West Side French Roast cafe. Brad and I were seated next to an older couple that very well may have been Jerry Seinfeld's parents - well, only if Jerry's mom dyed her long hair black and wore it up high on her head in a red scrunchy. And then, as God smiled upon us, the "Don't Hurt Me" guys were seated on our other side. I'll begin with Jerry's parents (please apply your best New York accent)...

Mom: This creme brulee is just custard.
Dad: Well what did you think it would be?
Mom: In French, it means "burnt cream."
Dad: That's what this is.
Mom: I guess so.
Dad: Have you heard of YouTube?
Mom: YouTube?
Dad: Yeah - it's where you go to watch things.
Mom: What do you watch?
Dad: You watch videos! I could go watch Paul McCartney sing. And anyone can put a video there. I could put my own videos there. I just don't know how, because it's all that nerdy computer stuff.
Mom: Where does it come from?
Dad: You mean who owns it?
Mom: Yeah, who owns it?
Dad: The television people.
Mom: Oh?
Dad: Yeah, it's that Rupert Murdoch and Fox - they own it. They own everything. (Note: This is how misinformation is spread)
Mom: Mmmm, okay. That makes sense. Oh, here's the bill. We need to pay this.
Dad: I can't see a thing.
Mom: Jesus, it's dark out here. How are you supposed to be able to see to pay this thing?
Dad: I can't read this.
Mom: Get your glasses out.
Dad: My glasses aren't gonna help me. I hate these things...
Mom: They're blue.
Dad: I put 'em away, I take 'em out, I can't stand it.
Mom: Maybe we can get a light. (To the waiter) Excuse me, sir, can we get a light? We can't read the bill. Maybe you have a flashlight or something.
Waiter: Um, no problem. I'll have them print the bill darker - I'll see what we can do.
(Waiter returns with a darker bill and candlelight)
Dad: This is better, now I can finally see.
Mom: Oh yeah, that's much better. Wait, how do we add a tip? Do you think we can add the tip? Do we have to tell him what we want to put on it?
Dad: Let me see...
Mom: He was a very good server...
Dad: Okay, here, you sign it.
Mom: Okay, oh yeah, this is much better. (Returns the bill to Dad)
Dad: You signed right through it! Now it's not even legible!
Mom: What do you mean?
Dad: He's not gonna get any tip, you signed right through it. You damaged it! No one can read this. I can't read this.

Things pretty much wrapped up at this point, just in time for us to drop in on the "Don't Hurt Me" duo, who flaunted a variety of wardrobe malfunctions, including:

1) Black Reebok sneakers (2 offenses)
2) Sleeveless tshirt (1 offense)
3) A rip in one's khaki pant crotch that revealed his kibbles and bits - mainly, the bits (1 offense)

So it's surprising they brought so much attention to themselves with active conversation...

Guido 1: Look at this f***ing espresso! You see the size of this thing? 6 bucks!
Guido 2: (Points to menu) A f***ing $17 beer. How big is that f***king thing?
Guido 1: It better be the size of my f***ing head!
Guido 2: (To waiter, who has come over) I'll have a hot chocolate. (????)
Guido 1: I'll get a real coffee.
Guido 2: Who you gonna vote for president?
Guido 1: Barrack HUSSEIN Obama.
Guido 2: (Lowering voice) John McCain is the most normal guy in America (interesting assertion) - if he can't win this thing...I don't know.
Guido 1: I just don't know if I can bring myself NOT to vote for Obama.
Guido 2: I hear ya - I just don't know. I don't know who I'm voting for.
(Waiter arrives with drinks)
Guido 1: (Gesturing towards hot chocolate) Why's his drink so big?! Can I get mine that big?
Guido 2: What you got in the bag?
Guido 1: I went to Zabar's (please note: this is a very expensive specialty grocery store - see my Yelp review). Look what I got (Takes out a peach)
Guido 2: Nice.

At this point, we'd wrapped up our dinner, including dessert, and I could no longer be exposed to Guido 1's bits. So we left. But it was at that moment that I realized a scary truth - both Seinfeld and Saturday Night Live are actually documentaries.

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

New Yorkers Are Funny


In the few days we've been here, the people of the City have delivered as expected with quirks and craziness. From the miscommunication that led to my lip wax yesterday; to the sweet but insane lady, Sharon, we met at Riverside Park with her freshly blow-dried dog; to the weed-smokers in the unit below with the little terrier, who try to mask the odor of their habit with floral air freshener like an ABC after-school special ...everybody's got their...something.

One sight that delights every time is the way New Yorkers run down the subway train, as though there's not another one coming in 3 minutes. They say if you can make it here, you can make it anywhere...but I'm pretty sure these people couldn't make it in San Francisco, where you actually might wait 1/2 hour for your bus or train to show up...and where the bus driver might look you in the eye through the closed glass doors as you bang on them to get on...and drive away. I keep pulling a San Francisco and giving myself 30-45 minutes to go 4 stops, because I can't come to grips with the fact that the train comes within an instant, and doesn't ever get stuck underground. For the first time in my life, I'm on time...even early!

Today was another trip to Exhale Spa, this time for yoga - which was fantastic. The staff already knows me by name - I love them. That was followed by an unfortunately poor hot pastrami sandwich at a place called "Bread Factory Cafe" that needs to be renamed, simply, "Factory Cafe." Don't they call it "New York Pastrami" for a reason? Meh.

Okay, so you know I couldn't make it through a post without an off-topic rant. And the subject of my rant today is "Hillary Clinton supporters who have lost their shit." Now I am not hating on Hillary or her supporters. Minus the presence of Obama, I'd be one of her backers. She's smart and experienced, and I think she could make a strong President - in spite of Wild Bill.

But here's the thing - she's not going to be the President - because she lost the Democratic Primary. Now believe you me, if Obama had lost the Primary, I'd have been beside myself. But because I am not a 7-year-old, I would not pout and throw down my ballot and proclaim, "So I'm just not going to vote!" Nor would I jump the party ship (assuming I'm not an Independent, which I'm not) and pledge my eternal love to Old Man McCain. I would - and I know this is a crazy concept - just vote for the candidate whose point of view most closely matched that of Obama...so I'd vote for Hillary.

Why is this such a difficult concept for people? And what's with the declaration that Obama somehow "disrespected her?" He should have stomped that bi-atch when she said all he had in terms of experience was a "2002 speech" (mind you, it was 2004), which the McCain campaign is now thanking her for. And Obama should have stomped Bill when he pronounced Obama's run a "fairytale." Perhaps this is why I'm never running for President - because I call people "bi-atch" and refer to "stomping them." Okay, and there are probably some other reasons I'm never running for President. But I digress. Let's see what our girl has to say tonight to talk her people off the ledge.

Side note: Lots have been curious as to what our dwelling looks like - it's pictured above. We enter through the set of the doors on the left.

Monday, August 25, 2008

A Mani, A Pedi and a Spa Workout


I'm going to warn you all before you continue reading - you're going to hate me. No, you are, really. And so I just want to take this time to remind you all that I am a nice person with a big heart, who only lashes out sometimes.

This morning began around 10:30. I set my alarm (yes, it's true) for 10:00, but it was a little too noisy on the street starting around 7am for me to get the beauty sleep I was hoping for - so much for keeping the window open. Moby stumbled about sleepily, and we got ready for what I believe will be our daily trip to the dog park.

I wonder what all these other people hanging out at the dog park and walking around looking happy (or mad - it all depends) actually do for a living. I spent a good hour at the dog park, and traffic never slowed. And I confirmed that at least half the people there were not nannies or dog walkers. I'll have to do some investigation on this matter.

After Moby nearly passed out from the heat (it was only 82 degrees) and humidity (it only tried to rain for a brief second), we returned home so that I could have a bite to eat, check email, and otherwise kill some time while watching a little bit of Montel Williams. He seems to have taken a page out of Oprah's book with a lot of health talk. He had the poor man's version of Dr. Oz on talking about your colon - and another woman showing us how to do push-ups. Hmmm, not that good - so I turned back to the game show "Sale of the Century." Much better.

Okay, WHOA. I interrupt this program to talk about what's on my TV screen right now. David Letterman has had pity on Solange Knowles, the saddest little sister in America, and she is "performing." Couldn't Beyonce have loaned Solange enough money to buy an outfit that didn't come from Wet Seal and sport a weave that didn't look like "My Little Pony?" Seriously, I looked up from this blog and thought I was watching Jodi Watley perform circa 1987. Oh this is sad. It looks like a Star Search audition, with dance moves equally as awkward. I give it 2 stars, Ed.

Back to my day. So after the TV break, I decided it was time to take care of some real business - my nail situation. After 2 weeks traversing the country without access to my Bliss hand cream, my mani had reached near apocalypse stage. And so it was off to Dashing Diva, whose greatest claim to fame seems to be cleanliness. Seriously, what is wrong with NYC nail salons? There is apparently a severe hygeine problem, because I've never seen so many proud signs and press clippings posted to tout simple lack of dirt and disease. Yikes. And all for only $100! Granted, that included an accidental lip wax - oh yes. See, I thought when I was getting my eyebrows cleaned up, she said, "Clip also?" Turns out she said, "Lip also?" I'm not sure what I should be more offended by - the fact that I paid an extra $9 for something I did not need, thank you very much; or the fact that she actually suggested I had a moustache!!

So after being treated like a man (although very pleasantly, I must say - and by a woman who claimed to be a "superstar actress in China"), I headed to Midtown for my first workout at Exhale Spa. This gem of a joint offers classes in "Core Fusion" that are similar to Bar Method, except as it turns out, are way harder. They were very nice about the torture, mind you. But it was positively brutal. So yes, I'll return tomorrow for yoga. And hopefully not go shopping in the spa like I did today (I had no idea you could purchase Lululemon OUTSIDE of Lululemon!).

The evening wrapped up with some really good sushi for dinner in the 'hood, and a desperate search for ice cream in the city that both never sleeps and has everything you could possibly ever want - EXCEPT ice cream. Google Maps failed us miserably and directed us to both a Haagen Daaz and Baskin-Robbins that didn't exist. Oh good, Tasti D-Lite. The name, unfortunately, says it all. Since when did yogurt come back in, btw? Didn't that die in 1992 when the seniors of West Beverly High graduated the first time?

Weak.

Sunday, August 24, 2008

Welcome to New York


Moby captures how we all feel in this photo........T-I-R-E-D.

Our last drive on the road trip made sure to remind us how happy we are not to have a car in New York. This last leg started out easy enough, though by then, we'd gotten sick of our iPods and switched to NPR. Central Pennsylvania, however, seems not to acknowledge NPR, and instead features limitless stations of Bible Study. Interested in world news and politics, and an update on just how many houses John McCain owns? Sorry, today, we'll be bringing you the birth of Jesus and how to educate your workplace on these stories and more as you spread your faith (true topic). Sigh.

But we pressed on through bad, bad east coast drivers (sorry, friends) who actually need signs reminding them not to tailgate and dots on the road illustrating where they should keep their cars to prevent slamming into those in front of them. And we pressed on through all the parts of New Jersey that weren't Princeton. And then she spoke - our navigation system - and warned us about the horrific traffic on the George Washington Bridge (Friday at 6pm - you don't say?). So she re-routed us through the Holland Tunnel. Here's where lightness turned to dark.

Take the worst Bay Bridge traffic you've ever sat in, multiply it by LA's 405 on a Friday at 5pm, add a little Vegas Strip, and raise it to the power of 10. Now pee all over that. There you go, that's the Holland Tunnel.

Our saving grace came when we finally made it to the Upper West Side, turned down our street, and spotted a car pulling out of a parking spot that just happened to be in front of our building. Thank you, God. It appears that listening to even 30 seconds of Bible Study netted us a parking score.

Our apartment is as we expected - certainly small compared to our home in SF, but reasonably sized and comfortably appointed for our purposes here. I could bore you with the details, but will just say it's in a pre-war building on a gorgeous block right off Riverside Park, just two short blocks from one of the 3 dog runs there. Moby is pumped.

We spent the bulk of yesterday correcting the wrongs that one might expect to find in a New York apartment - a painfully slow-draining tub and missing drawer handles, for example. But we also immediately realized the joy of instant gratification in a city that will pick up and deliver just about anything.

Today was spent with our friends Xin-Hua and Ryo (who lives on the Upper West Side). And tomorrow marks Brad's first day at the office and my first full day as a housewife with no housework.

Awesome.

Friday, August 22, 2008

Road Trip Day 13 - New York, NY

This posting is just to acknowledge that we made it and we're all settled in - well, mostly. But I'm exhausted and will post as usual tomorrow. Goodnight!

Thursday, August 21, 2008

Road Trip Day 12 - Cleveland, OH


What the hell is wrong with the USA Olympic track team? Why can't they run fast or far, clear a hurdle, or hold a baton? Lauryn Miller must have oil on her hands, because this is the second Olympics in a row where homechick has not been able to grab the damn thing. Here's a tip, Lauryn: when your teammate is running towards you with the baton, you have to start running too.

Although hey, at least our athletes are old enough to participate in the Olympics. The Chinese women's gymnastics team is so about to get their asses handed to them with only two bronze medals they can keep, and virtually all of their golds going to the Americans. Doh.

But I digress.

So Cleveland is a lot like Andrea Zuckerman on 90210 - she was on the show, but you just didn't ever want the storyline to be about her.

However, in the grand scheme of the drive from Chicago to Cleveland, it became evident that there are worse places. Take Gary, Indiana for example (yes, Susan, Ryan and Sherri - we passed through the great state - though I'm sure this is not what you were talking about). The VH1 Rockumentary "The Jacksons" really did not highlight their birthplace as...accurately as it could have.

I've also now realized that no matter what route across the country you take, it's ALL southern. In fact, the "Southern" accent is poorly named - because there's nothing geographical about hick talk, as it turns out. We are now in the eastern time zone, and yet, people still sound like they just stumbled out of the woods with a shot gun in one hand and a bottle of Wild Turkey in the other.

So after spending an admittedly inordinate amount of time trying to decide on a hotel for us on our last night before NYC, we've landed in Independence, Ohio - a suburb of metropolitan Cleveland. Perhaps the vivid flashbacks of pantless man at the last unplanned hotel we stayed at had me too afraid to tempt fate. We've settled into a very nice Sheraton where it looks like everyone gets dressed before they go outside, no matter what the hour. Go figure.

And no, that pretty scene in the picture is not Cleveland.

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

Road Trip Day 11 - Chicago, IL


Chicago certainly makes a better impression on me in the summer than the winter, and now I finally get all the hoopla about this city. The lakefront beach is a really fun scene and quite picturesque - unlike any other city I've been to. With the tall buildings and traffic providing the backdrop for the bikinis, it really is a unique urban oasis.

It's too bad they don't really want dogs to enjoy that urban oasis. This morning, we walked down to the concierge to get some tips on where to walk Moby - assuming Millennium Park would be a major stopping point. Not so much. It turns out the mayor has declared most of the parks off-limits to dogs, going so far as to install video surveillance and station security to ensure our four-legged friends don't enter. She goes on to tell us that after some lengthy scientific studies, they found that dog poop feeds rats, and that bolstered this anti-dog policy. WTF? Was this guy attacked by Kujo as a child, and now is wielding his mayoral power against all dogs?

Anyway, the concierge was very nice and clearly not in support of these policies - so she provided us with detailed albeit confusing information on where we could go with him - all around the lake and a small park across the street from the Ritz Carlton where Oprah walks her dogs (whom we did not see). And so we set out on a 3-hour tour of the city.

Upon returning, we readied ourselves for one of the highlights of our road tour - a Cubs game vs. the Reds. Now, I'm not gonna lie - I'm not a baseball fan. I think baseball is best enjoyed from the comfort of a park suite with a glass of wine and TVs showing something other than the game - such as basketball. But Wrigley Field did not disappoint as an experience, which we got to enjoy with our friends Aldo and Patty (who has family here). After some deep dish pizza and beer (which most of you probably know I don't really drink - but you can't legitimately order a Cosmo at a Chicago pizza joint), and a stop at a retail concession stand to outfit myself appropriately, we were game ready.

I find it...interesting...that we paid $100/ticket on StubHub to sit in unassigned bleacher seats. But apparently, that's how one is supposed to enjoy the game. Apparently, one is also supposed to throw trash on their home field when their team loses. This is so bizarre. Water bottles and beer cups rained down on the field after a 2-1 Cubs loss. Oh, and also a man fell on his face in the bleachers trying to exit the stadium - ouch.

In keeping with the theme of Illinois and Cubs colors, Brad decided to wear his Obama '08 shirt. Funny how even in a blue state that is the home of the Democratic presidential nominee, he got some jeers - my favorite of which came from a homeless man. Is it mean that I pointed out that without a mailing address to register to vote, he really shouldn't comment?

After heading to a local bar in Wrigleyville with Aldo and Patty post-game, the evening wrapped up with a Kenny G spotting on the El platform. Okay, he wasn't really Kenny G, but he did perhaps have a man-perm and was wearing a blouse. God bless you, Chicago.

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

Road Trip Day 10 - Chicago, IL


Sometimes, bad things happen to good people - and beginning late last night, we were those good people.

We headed out with Moby for a final walk around 1 AM. I didn't expect to see anyone else out and about, but I was prepared in case we did bump into anyone. For example, I was fully clothed. Too bad the man who stumbled out 1 minute behind us was not. Alone and confused, this 50-year-old man pranced about in his wife beater - JUST his wife beater. Maybe he had on shoes. I'm not sure. It was a little hard to evaluate his foot apparel based on the fact that he wasn't wearing pants - or underpants. It was like a bad dream, which is all I can hope he was having when he marched outside in this manner. But it is worth noting there was some sort of business function going strong in the bar when we checked in, and his situation was more likely the result of too many fuzzy navels. The best part of it all is that he had the nerve to give US the stink eye! Yo, Harvey Keitel, YOU'RE the one not wearing any bottoms.

You can imagine this led to a sleepless night. So when we woke up knowing we were hitting the road for Chicago, we needed a good jumpstart. Perfect, there's a Starbucks across the street - and it's a drive-thru! Ah, God must have felt sorry for us when he stuck us with KFC instead of Popeye's last night - this is his apology. But hmmm, that's weird. The menu board is covered. It's also weird that no one seems to be inside. And extra weird is that there are chairs stacked on the tables. Hold on. You are not seriously telling me that at 11:00 in the morning on a Tuesday across the street from a business hotel with a conference in full schwing, the only coffee joint in town is closed...right? Really? REALLY, Fairmont, Minnesota? You thought why provide Starbucks when there is 5-cent coffee with plastic-wrapped-54%-fat-muffins right across the street at the BP gas station? I hate it here.

So after eating a burger and fries from Dairy Queen for breakfast (our first of two trips to Dairy Queen today), we put the shame of Fairmont behind us and excitedly pressed on towards Chicago. We passed monuments such as the Jolly Green Giant in Blue Earth, Minnesota - pictured above. Might I suggest our road games of "Countries A-Z" and "Athletes A-Z." We ended in a tie on the first game, but gave up on J in the second game after discovering just how many "Johns," "Jims" and "Joes" have played sports.

All was well and good until we slammed into Chicago area traffic - and Chicago area drivers. What is wrong with this city's infrastructure? Why did I pay 4 tolls on a highway that didn't cross over water? And why did the tolls range from 80 cents to $1.60? Finally, why are there no lines indicating lanes at the tolls where signs demand that you "stay in your lane?" And speaking of signs, here's a good one: "Don't be a loser. Don't drink and drive." I'm sorry, did a 12-year-old girl come up with that great slogan? Don't be a LOSER? I imagine that just barely beat out "Don't be lame" and "Don't be retarded," closely followed by "Don't be gay."

But despite all of this...Chicago (insert jazz hands) is fantastic. The Hotel Monaco, fast becoming one of my favorites, welcomed us with a nice upgrade to a suite. And we only had to cross the street to enjoy big food served by the world's friendliest waitress, surrounded by giant tv screens displaying the Olympics. And as you all know by now, I love the Olympics. Yay, Shawn Johnson! You are cuter than Mary Lou Retton in '84. And that is why I shall call you "Pie."

Assuming everyone keeps their pants on, it's going to be a great 2 days.

Monday, August 18, 2008

Road Trip Day 9 - Fairmont, MN


Yeah, I don't really know why we're here either - except that this is the halfway point between Mt. Rushmore and Chicago, our next destination. And apparently, we really didn't want to be here, since somehow, despite checking out of our hotel at 11:00 this morning, we didn't check into the Fairmont Holiday Inn until 10:30 at night. That was definitely an accident.

Another accident was me calling the Super 8 Motel from the road today and booking a room there instead of the Holiday Inn, then marching proudly to the Holiday Inn desk and demanding that there'd been some sort of mistake when they said they didn't have my reservation. As a result, we're now in a seemingly temporary room with a Murphy bed (yes, that's one of those beds that folds down off the wall). But at $39, it still beats me having to break my promise to myself never to stay in a Super 8.

So what the hell did we spend so much time doing today? I have NO idea. I just know we kept following Wall Drug billboards and eventually ended up at this Western bazaar selling crap no one should ever, ever buy. Native American headresses, spurs and gummy candy are all examples of things you might find at Wall Drug. You can also get free ice water, and free coffee and donuts if you are honeymooning. I'm not making this up. We settled on smoothies and a photo of Moby below a very apropos sign.

Then we took a small detour through the Badlands to start our journey. It's basically exactly what it sounds like - a bunch of bad land you wouldn't want to be stuck on. In my opinion, that loop could have been 5 miles, not 35 miles. It was fascinating for the first few minutes, but then it was just hot and dusty. Plus, when we learned the resident prairie dogs were infected with the plague, AND there were rattlesnakes present, I was shockingly uninterested in getting out of the car.

Now here's something interesting. It appears there are 3 things this region is so proud of, it deems them billboard material: Water Parks, Adult Superstores and The Right to Life (is it any coincidence that this last message once appeared outside of a cemetery - yikes?). Okay, the water parks stand on their own - I mean, sure, it's hot here in the summer. I can see how it might be refreshing to learn that there is one just off the freeway on your way to...BFE. But does anyone else raise an eyebrow at the juxtaposition of the adult superstore and the pro-life proselytizing? Doesn't God frown upon porn? I just want to know how many bible-thumpers almost flip their cars exiting to the nearest "Trixie's Treasures."

So after many hours and the sad realization that we would not make it to our hotel at a reasonable hour, we decided we should get dinner. This is more than a notion when you're on I-90 near the South Dakota/Minnesota border. And then finally, it called to me - KFC. Yes! We haven't actually had true fast food on this trip so far (by design), cat-bear burgers yesterday exempt. And chicken sounded so good. After passing the first one by accident and cursing for the next 5 minutes, knowing we wouldn't cross another for at least an hour (try 2 hours), we pulled off in Worthington, MN for some satisfying Colonel goodness. And after one bite, it all came rushing back to me...KFC is the WORST of the chicken chains! Damn you, KFC! I might as well be eating Long John Silver's.

Sunday, August 17, 2008

Road Trip Day 8 - Keystone, SD


Huh. Roosevelt had a moustache.

Mt. Rushmore is the coolest national memorial to see in 15 minutes or less. After driving more than 500 miles from Montana across some of the bleakest stretch of highway in America, we decided to go straight to Mt. Rushmore in the evening upon arrival, and get out of dodge via the Badlands tomorrow. I think this was a strong move.

As it turns out, it's not enough simply to BE an American at Mt. Rushmore. You must WEAR America. "Freedom Is Not Free" tshirt, Olympic stars and stripes warm-up suit, and flag vest are all acceptable design options. Oh how Ralph Lauren must frown on this interpretation of domestic fashion.

But there were many more unnerving highlights about this day's travels, beginning with the woman pushing her baby in a stroller down the highway when we set off this morning from Yellowstone. Lady, WHAT are you doing? Are there no sidewalks in southern Montana? Is there no open space to which you could have driven your baby for a day out in the sunshine?

And let's talk about our lunch today. Now, at the Stoneville Saloon, they proudly advertised, "Cheap Drinks, Lousy Food." If only we had gotten that omen before we chose to eat at Michelle's Munchies, somewhere in one of the many Native American towns we passed through. I went inside and ordered what I *thought* were two hamburgers, fries, and oreo "snowstorms" (these are like Dairy Queen "blizzards"). Fries and snowstorms, fine. Hamburgers, dear God, no. 7 hours later, I am still waiting to uncover what type of meat we actually ate. Cat? Bear? We'll unfortunately never know unless our toilet starts meowing.

NOTE: In honor of our Native American brethren whose towns we passed through today, Brad, Moby and I have taken new names until we cross into Minnesota: Distant Bull Arrow, Thundering Big Paw and Whispering Warrior. Yeah, there's that little to do on an 8-hour drive.

Saturday, August 16, 2008

Road Trip Day 7 - North Yellowstone `


SUGR DDY. There it was, on the Montana SUV license plate in front of us in proud, bold letters, as we re-entered Yellowstone from the North side. Nice.

Today was more driving through Yellowstone, but bison, not geysers, were the highlight. They really aren't pressed to get out of the road, as the picture here through our windshield indicates. Here's how we spent 5 hours:

1) Drive to a waterfall/lookout/mud volcano/steaming thing.
2) Confirm that Moby cannot walk on the trail, and observe from a distance.
3) Encounter people with their own guesses as to Moby's breed - best guess of the day is "wolf."
4) Spot funny-looking people, like the man wearing a Daniel Boone beaver hat.
5) Repeat, running into bison in the road along the way.

The day wrapped up with us dumping the stupid Gaper Guide, who's brilliant lesson of the day was that sulphur smells like a bad fart (really). And we enjoyed a surprisingly delicious Italian meal at a restaurant called Pedalino's that Yelp can't even find for me to review. But we couldn't get out of there before an older couple from Berkeley spotted Brad's "Biggest Upset Ever" tshirt, referring to the WTF football victory over USC last year. And Berkeley people are always...special. Especially the older ones.

For at least 10 minutes, as we're itching to get outta there for (surprise) the Olympics, we have to hear that they met at Cal, he's in public health, they're very disturbed by the lack of Democrats in Montana, and oh by the way, they used to live in New Jersey...so of course they know everything about New York and here's what we have to do and here's how the subway works. Okay, this is why no one likes Californians.

562 miles tomorrow. God help us.

Friday, August 15, 2008

Road Trip Day 6 - South Yellowstone and Gardiner, MT


I'm not sure I'm that into geysers.

After taking a somewhat agonizingly long time to make our way through Yellowstone to Old Faithful and eventually to our home base in Gardiner, Montana, that's the conclusion I came to. The highlight of the day for me was actually coming to the realization that people in other parts of the country are so...NICE. I've long suspected that San Franciscans can be a little frosty (I think it's the fog and bad parking), and it's not much better in LA (I think it's the haze and paparazzi) - and today, I put my stake in the ground. We Californians just aren't the friendliest bunch - at least not in our own state. But it's been all smiles since we hit the road - especially when it comes to Moby.

But people still say the damndest things. For example, take the nice man from San Bernardino we met at Old Faithful (yes, that's California - but again, the rules change when you leave the state). He approached us with his two boys (and later his wife, who looked kind of like Kenny's mom from South Park - sorry, she did) to ask about Moby's breed. We're talking and all is going well until he talks about how he acquired his own dog, who is apparently a 45-pound version of Moby. He explains to us he was out paintballing, and he and his buddies heard something rustling in the bushes. He thought it was a bobcat, so he got out his knife (which of course, you carry on you at all times) and was prepared to "gut it." Pause here. Now I might alternatively suggest you simply move away from the bobcat rather than stab it. But hey, different strokes. Back to the story, turns out the "bobcat" was his now dog. Way to go, buddy. Good thing you didn't kill your dog.

We continued to meet really nice, if not insane, people all day. And of course, we continued to see the standard morons who get out of their cars off the side of the road to approach, you know, a small herd of bison with a calf, for example. Go ahead, dude. Be our bait so that the bison will look up and we can capture the photo from the car.

Speaking of insane...I invested in the most horrible idea ever for our tour through Yellowstone for these couple of days. It's called the "Gaper Guide." Now, when described online, it sounded to me like a navigational device cum tour guide - perfect for the car-centric Yellowstone experience. Turns out it's a talking moose with a gaggle of strange animal and tree friends, as well as the ghost of President Roosevelt. I'm going to take a moment to allow you to absorb that. Perhpas that's why the woman gave us that, "And don't let the door hit you in the ass on your way out" look when we picked up the device yesterday. It is the most horribly annoying little thing ever, and provides absolutely no useful information at all. It spent the better part of the day calling out scenic overlooks once we'd already passed them, "super secret cool spots" that were populated by dozens, and random historical facts without any context. I hate you, Gaper Guide.

The day eventually wrapped up in a new state. Gardiner is certainly everything you'd expect a town right outside an entrace into the world's largest national park to be - kitschy. The "true Montana steakhouse" next door to our Best Western certainly did not meet my expectations...more on that in my Yelp review. But after two nights without a TV in our hotel room, we'll deal. Depriving guests of this standard feature during the Olympics is totally uncivilized.

Until the next post...Michael Phelps, you're a God. Nastia Liukin and Shawn Johnson, thank you for bringing pride back to American female gymnastics, all but lost after Kerri Strug's one-legged vault. And Tyson Gay...please don't be on steroids.

Thursday, August 14, 2008

Road Trip Day 5 - Grand Teton National Park


We saw a bear.

That about sums up the day. For all my kvetching about not seeing any animals and wondering if the trip to Africa just rendered elk too lame for me to care about...we saw a bear.

I was very prepared in case we saw a bear. Here's what you have to do:

1) Hold your arm out straight and give a thumbs-up. Your thumb should cover the outline of the bear. If it doesn't, you're too damn close. Back your ass up.

2) If the bear is at a distance from you, make a lot of noise and make yourself appear bigger than you really are. I guess you're screwed if you're shopping in petites.

3) If the bear charges you, curl up into a ball and cover your neck and back (which is hopefully already covered by a backpack). Oh, and cry. Cry sad, sad cries.

So, which of these did we have to do, you ask? NONE. Because the bear was just off the side of the road as we approached in our car. And unlike the morons in the cars in front of us who got out and started charging the bear with their cameras until the ranger saved their dumb asses, we remained totally out of harm's way. Where's Darwin when you need him?

This is the first day we were out without Moby because we did some trail hiking, which would not have been so cool for Moby (according to park rules, at least). And it is true that all hell would have broken loose had Moby even seen one of the little chipmunks out and about. But God bless him, he was photographed like wildlife right here at the resort. We were standing outside talking to a couple other folks, and suddenly I heard these doggy kissing noises behind me, and sensed camera flashes. Moby may be featured in National Geographic...or some random Asian photo album.

Back to the trail hiking...since when did it become acceptable to bring your infant on a mountain hike? While we're at it, why are you trying to drag your all-terrain stroller vehicle up a rocky mountain trail, only to discard it off to the side in the vegetation about 1/2 mile in? And why, God, WHY are you wearing a sundress?

Oh well, it's off to a new state tomorrow - Montana - where we're going to try not to get mistaken for prey and shot.

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Road Trip Day 4 - Jackson, WY and Grand Teton National Park


Ahhhh, our shortest drive so far - only 90 miles! Once we got past all the fields with abandoned school buses (I'm not really sure what to make of this), it was really beautiful. Our first pit stop was Jackson, which I'd say is like a cowboy's version of Park City. And now finally, I know where catalogues such as "Orvis - Fly Fishing" and "Coldwater Creek" call home. I'd always wondered who was ordering over-the-knee fishing boots AND peasant skirts online.

After a short stint in the Wild West that ended with lunch at a Thai restaurant (go figure), we made our way to Jackson Lake Lodge in Grand Teton National Park. Not surprisingly, it's very picturesque. However, we keep seeing signs alerting us of wild animals crossing - moose, elk, bears and the such - and the only animal we've encountered so far is a snake. It was long and black with a yellow stripe and no doubt deadly. Okay, I actually didn't see it, Brad did - he moved me forward up the path before I could, um, react.

Otherwise, things have been fairly uneventful today. And aside from the jackass wearing the trucker hat with a rooster on it, and the waitress with crimped hair in the lodge restaurant...no one has committed a total fashion crime. Good job, Wyoming.

Now it's on to more Olympics viewing in the resort's one and only lounge, where some dude is pulling a Max's Opera Cafe and singing and strumming on a guitar - oh good - www.kevindanzig.com. Meanwhile, I may have almost tripped an old lady getting to one of the remaining available tables. But hearing the American male gymnasts talk trash while throwing gang signs is well worth it.

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Road Trip Day 3 - Idaho Falls, ID


Okay. When day shed its light on Salt Lake City, the ugly truth was revealed - there is a lot of bad hair and worse fashion in this town.

Last night, it was all Michael Phelps and burgers - this morning, it's all pouffy bangs and Mom jeans. Seriously, Ken Paves and The Blues Jean Bar need to get here stat. And while we're at it, you know what else is lacking? DOGS. The only ones we've actually seen belong to homeless people. And as we made our way down the city streets with Moby, the youth hipsters and fellowshippers descended on us like he was the Lion King - more on that when we get to Park City.

So what great sights did we see in Salt Lake City? Well, let's see - everyone told us not to go to the namesake lake because it smelled and sucked (I guess every city has its Pier 39); and my desire to see the Golden Spike after having spent four years educating college tourists on Leland Stanford's laying of it in Utah to connect the east and west by continental railroad...yeah, that quickly waned when we discovered how far it was off the highway. Alright, Park City, here we come!

Oh, Park City - now this is Utopia. A pet boutique next door to a pet boutique that's across the street from a pet boutique...toss in a bunch of 5-star resorts and restaurants, and here's where Jesus is retiring. If the Salt Lake City denizens marveled at Moby's uniqueness, Park City locals simply marveled at his utter...dogness. From the waitress at the "Mexican" restaurant who ran more quickly to get him water than get us menus (although really, she was quite nice), to the 40-something couples traveling together who then shared their own dog photos on their cell phones...these people might be insane...and we might need to look into fractional ownership here.

Now, it's on to Le Ritz. No, not THE Ritz...LE Ritz. There's positively nothing between Park City and Idaho Falls (pictured above), but when we arrive, Le Ritz doesn't disappoint. This small hotel is situated right on the Snake River and smells like cinammon and bubble gum...everywhere. We settle in, and enjoy a gnat-swatting walk down the river pathway to dinner where we spot a man wearing a tshirt that reads, "You Don't Know Me," circa Jerry Springer '97. We make our way to an extraordinarily average brew pub, based solely on who is broadcasting the Olympics (shocker). Brad doesn't want me to be too mean in my blog posts, but I would be remiss in not observing that at this restaurant, a female patron is wearing a bedazzled faux-Harley Davidson tank top with Salt Lake City Mom jeans and a fanny pack. I don't know what her hair looked like because I was blinded by the bedazzling and had to look away before I made it to the top of her head.

Thanks to everyone for reading and sending/posting comments!

Monday, August 11, 2008

Road Trip Day 2 - Salt Lake City, UT


The morning began with no power. It happened as soon as I reached for the remote to turn on a little Olympic action. Of course. After giving the hotel about 15 minutes while Brad showered in the dark, I called down to the front desk. "Oh honey, it's not the hotel - it's the whole town." Huh? How does an entire town lose power when there's no bad weather and seemingly has been no accident? Sigh...

So yes, the power came back on. Brad casually asked the front desk as he checked us out, "Is there a Starbucks in town?" Shocker, there's no Starbucks in Winnemucca. But there is a Delizioso Espresso (yes, that's how it's spelled), which I shall henceforth refer to as "Nobucks." It sufficed.

Now, how do you know you're not in California anymore? You get pulled over for driving 12 miles/hour over the speed limit. Come on, where's the Basic Speed Law when you need it? And then, when the officer comes to the car (while Moby is barking ferociously at him), he is more concerned about the fact that Avis actually rents out SUVs than the matter at hand - Brad getting his first speeding ticket. Ultimately, it was reduced to 5 miles/hour over. Lame.

So as we made our way considerably more slowly, things were actually quite lovely. We enjoyed a nice lunch stop at Angel Lake in Nevada (pictured above), where Moby met some other dogs. And then it was onward to Salt Lake City.

Here's the weird thing - I might love it here! Maybe it's the awesome Kimpton hotel we're in tonight in the much more happening than expected downtown...maybe it's the good burger place we went to...maybe...maybe it's the Olympics. Holy crap, between Michael Phelps the dolphin-man and the men's gymnastics team that fields a group with a Prince Harry look-alike, these games are incredible! I am screaming and shouting at the tv and actually coming up with my own deductions for the Chinese routines that are, by the way, like flawless. Whatever. Their coach just claimed he'd jump off the highest building in Beijing if they didn't take Gold. Come ON, that's a little dramatic, no? Meanwhile, the American men are chest-bumping and exclaiming, "That's how we roll!" about the Bronze. Hey, it's all about perspective.

Sunday, August 10, 2008

Road Trip Day 1 - SF to Winnemucca, NV


Winnipeg? Winnipoo? Winniwhat? Wikipedia. These are all of the names we assigned to our first destination, Winnemucca. There's not much to say about this city except that it's in Nevada and it's not Vegas or Reno.

But don't you dare think for a moment there wasn't excitement in getting here. Hello, Truckee. Oh Truckee, little quaint town next to Tahoe. How lovely you seemed as we drove through "downtown." Old saloon-type-looking places and all sorts of things you expect to see at the Western show at Knotts Berry Farm. Fantastic.

And look, there's our spot, the "Truckee Diner." It has outdoor seating for us and Moby - it'll be perfect. So we sit. And we scan the gross menu and settle on really not even average food. Another group shows up - a mom, her two daughters, and their two chihuahuas. And all is going as expected until...WHOA! Why is that SUV fish-tailing totally out of control down the street, screeching, guys inside screaming, and...HOLY CRAP! They just plowed into that parked car! And wait...oh no he did not just back up into another parked car and proceed to TAKE OFF...down a DEAD-END STREET. Oh, snap.

The owners of those cars are now outside. A blockade has been created with a van and people standing in the street (see photo above). And here comes the po-po...turning the wrong way down the street, away from the actual scene of the crime. How they did not notice the mass of people in the street and the obvious bruhaha, I have no idea. But suffice it to say, hit-and-attempted-run man is about to have a very, very bad day.

It's tough to top that, but other highlights along the way included a billboard advertising a "Free Pool Party" Wednesdays and Fridays at the Sands Resort. I'm not sure who they are inviting, by the way. But that can't be good. And of course, another billboard advertised the "Pussycat Ranch" where "Truckers are Welcome" for bar, massage and...ranch. This is so awesome. It's not the Mustang Ranch or even the Bunny Ranch I'm way too familiar with from HBO documentaries, but it's an animal ranch of some sort - I'm satisfied.

And so tonight, we lay our heads at the Red Lion Hotel and Casino. Roar.