Saturday, January 15, 2011

Changing Channels

If I could kiss south Florida in the mouth I would.  I am way in crush love with her and fresh off of my mini vacation high.  I flew to Fort Lauderdale and stayed in Hollywood at Hollywood Beach Hostel & Hotel.  Barely in the airport before I had to start making mental post its.  Apparently knee high boots are all the rage but no so comfy...I saw several people walking around with them unzipped and dragging around behind them??  There was also a dude that was wearing the widest variety of shades of rust I've seen this side of the Martha Steward paint wall at Home Depot.  I pasted a very busty flight attendant sans bra that nearly made me wreck my wheely luggage...only to realize that I noticed it and most men weren't...wrong, wrong, wrong boys....Sure there was a plane full of happy guys somewhere.

My goals for the trip were to remain somewhat sober...check.  And to stay away from, not so much of a check.  I didn't even get checked in before I was wearin' the GPS out trying to find my next fuzzy green bath mat locale.  The first night I walked the boardwalk, which was about a half block away from my room.  I guess my 15 mile radius on life has me really slowed way down but at the same time so so aware of life when I see it.  Maybe all those folks don't see how alive it all is, but from the sidelines it was awesome to watch.  There is a little outdoor theater on the boardwalk where about 4 Forest Gump look-a-likes were singing reggae.  I'm talking the "I just felt like running" Forest with the trucker hat.  Up ahead there was a fire truck on the sidewalk.  I figured something had gone down but had to walk that way anyhow.  When I get there I find a bunch of hot guys in kilts with drums and bag pipes.  A benefit called Guards, Hoses & Guns...pretty much they would crank up the lights and pull to the next bar with a little procession of drinkers and kilt oglers like myself.  Blow some pipes, beats some drums, add to the drunken followers and head to the next bar.  They even had what I figured to be the firehouse hooker in tow.  I stuck in for a stop of then headed on. 
When I move there I've got to get some roller blades.  Then I'm gonna join the late night roller derby girls...saw them all decked with lace stockings and bad ass girl t shirts.  I'd probably accidentally trip the bitch in charge and carry me the ass whippin of my life ...worth considering though.  Day 2 I saw more people working out than I've seen collectively in the last year here in 15 mile radius land.  The stakes are high for getting attention.  A strange bald dude in too short of shorts (btw does everybody have them altered to the awkward lenght stage or what?) shoulder pressing dumbbells on the boardwalk.  A chick in bouncy shoes that I must have.  And several arm flingers...If I had to guess I'm saying for cardio purposes or possibly a weird form of tourettes. 
Downtown is a full story in itself.  I'd call it Drag Queens, Belly dancers and Boa Constrictors

Could have been a python...tomato...tomahto. All I know is it was a big fucking snake. I head on'ed my fear. High five to me.  Not as crazy or carnival like as it sounds...just alive.  Somewhere where I can pull off my wallpaper impersonation and just watch.  Not so much can grab attention with all that going on. 
Ran into a guy barbecuing at the hotel.  It was probably about the only "hostel" experience of the trip.  He had plenty and I traded him a beer for a couple of kabobs.  I hate to admit that I'd already forgotten his name by the time I'd taken my first bite, but it should have Bobby Flay or something.  Oh My God.  He had marinated bacon in maple syrup, then stuffed chicken with cream cheese and wrapped it up, skewered and grilled it.  I showed MAJOR restraint by not humping the grill or mugging him for the rest of the plate. 
It sounds like I ate nonstop but I really didn't...just spaced it out and skipped the bullshit.  I found a little locals hang out called Toucans that had Drunken Clams at happy hour. Pretty sure they were the best clams of my life and that I had them 3 days in a row.  Recognized it as a local place because it was the only place I'd seen any straight men.  You can tell them right off because they are the drunk bad dressers with beer guts...pretty easy to spot.  Also all the straight men had a chick attached to them and hanging on like grim death...not a lot to go around as I saw.  When I'm away I always try to figure out who's the local version of the local morons from here.  I found their version of Mr Coors Light except this one mixed in a little pass out at the bar to the recipe.  Leaving after clams I round the corner to Jupiter Man.  He had  a telescope set up on a table outside the bar.  I asked what he was doin' and he answered setting up to look Jupiter and see if he could see any of its moons.  So I'm like hurry up I want to see.  I must have befuzzled him cause he got all nervous and took forever...offering that he'd been drinking and smoked a joint.  Now Jupiter Man was easily mid 60' what point to people stop smokin weed?  He finally got it together and I got to see the moon, which was very cool, and Jupiter with two of its moons.  It was worth sticking around and hearing most of his life's story. 
Saturday morning on the beach I pass by about 30 yoga-ers doing ass mountain...not sure what its really called but it was funny as hell.  I couldn't bring myself to take a picture.
I had my first $15 screwdriver, saw a spandex clad hoveround driver and considered an investment in Rosetta Stone. That was until I was lying on the beach listening to the chatter of foreign voices when I hear over everything "I smoked for 38 years" and thought to myself..if that was in French it would have been beautiful.  Fuck Rosetta Stone...I change my mind, not knowing is better.
There was a hot chick smacking a volleyball around with what could only have been her 80 yr old a bikini...yummy.  A line dance of about 100 people dancing on the boardwalk to something like polka music with a cowboy hatted Hispanic man singing.  A burger the size of my head in a place called Le Tubs that felt more like Key West.  Myers Rum floaters on pinacoladas.  A cat that chased a volleyball down the street because he could.  And a black man singing that I seriously think was reading my mind...everything I thought of he sang next up...kinda freaky.  He did also have a drunk local jump up on stage for some bad karaoke that involved the gangsta dick grab. 
What I want to know is how can you not love a place like this??  I'd forgotten how much I missed my freckles until they popped out to wave at the sun and how I like the taste of salt from the ocean on my lips.
What I don't get is the mass population of those Amish looking odd Jew cats??  And airplane farting...I mean really.
Since I've been home...I took a "bubble bath" in Fur So Fine doggie shampoo cause I was out of the real bubble bath and watered my plants with my coffee pot.  In my defense the doggie shampoo was the oatmeal aloe kind for dry skin.  I am the most unpretentious person that I know.  So I'm planning my most inevitable exit stage south...I think I'll fit in just fine down there.


Hollywood Hostel & Hotel

Me cheesin' it up at Le Tubs

The burger that was the size of my only half a head.
More Le Tubs...see doesn't this look like Key West to you?
My room
Your guess is as good as mine.

The boardwalk runs along the beach for about 2-3 miles. 

Hollywood Beach

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

2011... Here I Come

2010 I guess looking back was about freeing myself.  I sold my safety net which was my house in the spring.  I never knew how much the back of my little head was holding on to the safety of it until it was gone.  I purged and let go of a ton of my possessions when we officially consolidated houses.  Up until then I was more of a visitor so far as my "stuff" was concerned.  My house just looked like I was maybe on extended vacation...all that was missing was my clothes.  Now that I'm squatting at the parental units beach place I have even less on the stuff scale.  I have very little and I want for even less.  I was getting a hard time at work the other week that I don't like things.  I said that I like plenty and it was requested that I name a few.  So for those of you that wonder what I like and what trips my little trigger here ya go.

Black and white pictures... I like the distance it creates from the distracting reality of color.

Wind chimes.

The beach...mid summer lying in a tidal pool or bundled up with not another soul in sight.

Daffodils...they make me giddy... I know the bull shit of winter is over.

The Wizard of or the movie.  I can pin this one on my daddy.

Dogs and cats... Dogs more so than cats...being that my everyday life partner is one Mr Roger Dog.


Anticipation.  It can be the greatest fear or the greatest turn on. 

Laughing out loud...when your by yourself or when someone says something surprisingly funny. I love surprisingly funny people.  I'm more the say what everyone is thinking girl on my own time.

A squishy mattress from Nanner is by far the best hand me down of my life!!

Music and singing in the car to Roger.  I love shopping Itunes with a buzz...I come up with the greatest random shit.

Body boarding and playing like kid in the ocean.


Independent films and odd documentaries.

Living room myself to my great random shit from buzzed music shopping.

Writing.  Getting things out of my head and onto paper is better therapy than money could ever buy.

Scuppernong wine.  I know...redneck.

Not being a grown up.  Regardless of the age of my human suit I take great pride in not taking the world seriously.

I've been trying to come up with some outlook for hit me on the dog walk this morning.  I'm going to Live in the Moment...No Regrets...No Worries.  I'm sure that I will appear reckless to the outside viewer on occasion...consider this a warning.  Unlike some people I know that never have a thought that doesn't cross their lips...I'm much more internal.  There's an amazing amount of shit that bangs around in my head and never breaks the verbal seal.  I'm going to base decisions on Intuition and not analyze shit to death.  To borrow a song line from my most recent drunken Itunes venture.  I'm learning that life is just a leap of faith...You've got to spread your arms...hold your breath...and always trust your cape.

New Years morning I was standing at the kitchen counter eating lobster for breakfast.  I had white chocolate for dessert.  I said out loud to the dog "Fuck tradition...this is awesome".