Horror at the Apple Store.

The rub was this. My iPod dock wasn't doing what it was supposed to do. That is, not powering my iPods. No problem, as I have another dock, but a problem because my iPod Touch will drop from the wireless network after 30 minutes on battery power. I like to stream Last FM and Radio Paradise to my home theatre sound system, but don't like having to reset the connection twice each hour.

I take the docking unit to the Apple store.

Egads. There are two lines formed outside the storefront. People are STILL going ape shit over the 3GS iPhone. One line was to buy a phone and the other was for those seeking permission to enter the store. I truthfully stated that all I wanted was an answer to my docking problem. I was directed to the I-am-not-getting-a-phone-today line. A couple of people were allowed to go right into the store. Just as if this was a hot club and only A-List people were invited to enter. A guy in shorts and a tee shirt who did a half-assed job of shaving his face doesn't fit the big spender profile, so lying and saying I wanted the biggest and most expensive Mac on the planet wouldn't have had legs anyway. The wait was a mere 10 minutes and I got a free bottle of water. The clerk wasn't much help, but he did test the dock and said it was fine.

But this wasn't the horror suggested by this post's title. Not even close. What I saw while waiting in line will stay with me for years. I wanted to take a picture so badly, but I didn't have the stones . Besides that, the picture would have been quickly dismissed by skeptics. I will attempt to describe what I saw.

I saw this girl who had the darkest tan I have ever seen. She's scantily dressed to show off her nice figure and bronze skin. At first this made the wait more bearable, but as my male eyes check out this lovely lady from the bottom up, my jaw literally drops, and I immediately mouth an F-bomb. It seems that this dear girl has failed to tan her neck and head. Her facial skin is somewhat pasty and she has dyed her hair blond. Imagine if you will some little girl had ripped the head of her Black Barbie and replaced it with another Barbie head with the skin tone of Andy Warhol. Perfect head, perfect body. In combination - a mythical beast.

I hope I didn't gawk too long at her and come off as a drooling pervert. How could such a contrast between skin tones be achieved? Was she too tall for the tanning bed? Was she dipped into brown dye up to her neck? Head transplant?

...and no I'm not so desperate to post on this blog that I would made this shit up.

I saw her.

One week later

No meat found in Saturday sandwich.

Six Word Saturday - June 13

My life: Better than my dreams.

Travel Tips for the Pragmatist (Part I)

Vacationing with family and friends can be a rewarding experience. Can be. Can be in the land of unicorns and fairies. For me, a group of 4 is the maximum sized travel group that I can endure. Over that and it's a recipe for a fiasco. Three is better and two is almost ideal. I am capable of striking out alone and enjoying myself, so one is no problem. Loners can see plenty and do not have to compromise their fun.

TM's Law: At any given time, you are only as fast as the slowest person in the group.

Speed, of course is the only criteria for a good outing, trip, or vacation. I do contend, however, that the more people you have on the trip, the less fun you will have. Trying to find Aunt Flossie so you can go to dinner, or not hitting the beach right away because Cousin Hank forgot his sun screen, will have a negative effect on your vacation enjoyment.

I have undergone much research on the matter and have mathematically derived what I call the Aggravation Index which is based on the total number of people that are traveling as a unit.

The formula is simple: A = n! That being, Aggravation index equals the number of people in a group, factorial.

• one person carries an AI of 1.


• two people and the AI doubles to a barely perceptible 2 (2 x 1)


• With three, the AI jumps to n=3 or 6 (3 x 2 x 1)


• Packs of fours punch the index all the way up to my limit of 24 (4 x 3 x 2 x 1)


• Basketball team sized crews bump the AI to 120 (5 x 4 x 3 x 2 x 1)


• Try roaming around with 6 people and aggravation index is red-lining for most at 720 (6 x 5 x 4 x 3 x 2 x 1)


• Skipping ahead, A 10-person herd will ratchet up the AI to a mind-boggling 10! or 3,628,800

As the potty breaks, moments of indecision, stragglers, and the inevitable arguments mount, the AI rises and the vacation itself is in jeopardy. More people equals more factors equals more permutations.

This formula does seems to exaggerate the negative impact of each additional member. Remember though, that factored in is the reality that you will not likely find everyone in your tribe to be of like mind on what to see or do. You may want to spend an hour photographing the elephants, but some other travel companion may want to watch the feces fight at the monkey house . Person C may not want to be at the zoo at all.

The math doesn't lie.

Equal Time

Smooch requested that I post about her today. She's an tough old girl that covers the waterfront around here. Anything or anyone strange to her that enters her perimeter is asking for trouble. If she gets to know someone, they will be a friend forever. This is a picture of Smooch looking through the slats in the fence at the neighbors' chihuahuas, Spirit and Paco. Spirit is her BFF.

A Dog Named Cheese

Bosco is a rascal.

Getting Bosco indoors so we can leave the house proves difficult. He picks up clues that we will soon be driving away and leaving him alone with his sister. At the last moment he decides to go outside to pee. He's holding all the cards and he knows it.

Calling out "Bos - Co!" to get him back inside may or may not work. I never knew why this dog who understands scores of words and phrases would not grasp the most basic of commands. When we whisper the word Cheese, for example, he charges into the kitchen looking for a small pinch of cheddar. The joke is that maybe he actually thinks his name is Cheese.

I figured this out just the other day. Bosco can follow relatively complex directions. If I tell him, "Bosco, get in the house.", he rushes right inside without hesitation. So why does his so-called call name fail to rouse him?

When I say his name he must be waiting for more information.

"Bos -co!"

"Yes, my name is Bosco, what do you want?"

"Bosco, get in the house"

"Sure, why didn't you say so?"

It's that simple.

Think Tank

Epiphany usually occurs while taking shower.

Confused

When we went to the Ani DiFranco concert a few weeks ago, I knew going in that Ani has a large following among lesbians. The audience confirmed this. We were one of the few opposite-sexed couples (Prejean and her NOM shitheads are back on my punch list by the way. ) in the house. You do not have to be gay to enjoy Ani DiFranco and you are certainly not gay if you do. My wife and I thought it was a tremendous show.

My musical tastes are somewhat diverse. Country, rock, alternative (whatever the hell that means), folk, soul, oldies, bluegrass, rap, hip-hop, reggae, ska are all represented on my iPod. So being an Ani DiFranceo fan certainly isn't any more of an indication of who I am no more than grooving on Wyclef Jean makes me Haitian. Right?

There may be more to this. Itunes always alerts me when gay pride play lists are released. I'm cool with my manly-man demeanor and raging heterosexuality. I clicked through.

Melisa Ferrick, Mary Gauthier, Tracy Chapman, Tegan and Sara, Dusty Springfield, Chris Pureka, The Gossip, Catie Curtis, Annie Lennox! ... The list of my favorite artists goes on and on. Maybe there's something to this. Even a Rachel Maddow app. was available and I never miss her show.

So I check the list for gay men. Meh. Only the Scissor Sisters and a couple of old Elton John tunes are in my music library. As I suspected, not my style.

It appears that I'm profiled as a 35-year old lesbian. Well, I apparently embrace the culture, if there is such a thing. Is the GLBT community's taste in music a myth and a stereotype? Do most older gay men like show tunes, for example? I see many senior citizens driving big silver Buicks. I suspect that dudes that who wear mullets like classic rock. There are hardly any people of color at NASCAR races. Should people be offended that iTunes tries to define us because of the music we enjoy?

ITunes can keep sending me these suggestions. I've found some terrific music this way. Maybe I'm a lesbian trapped inside a man's body. Maybe I just happen to like edgy tunes by female vocalists. Whatever, the case, I'm going with it. You feelin' me, my sisters?

P.S. Project Runway is one of my favorite TV shows.