What is wrong with young Hollywood these days? It seems like the media, especially entertainment media, is filled with stories about Lindsay Lohan's latest arrest and her fall off the wagon, Britney Spear's mental breakdown, Paris reverting to her old ways post-jail, some country singer getting arrested for multiple parole violations, whether Nicole Richie is preggers or not.
Here are my answers to those questions:
1) Are we really surprised that Lindsay Lohan is all cracked out and getting arrested? She was in rehab at the tender age of 20.
2) Are we really surprised that Britney Spears is being all white trash and seems mentally unstable? She was married to Jason Alexander for a day and tried to make a marriage with that loser K.Fed.
3) Paris going back to her partying ways post jail? Shocker....she is a socialite - without the parties, what else does she have? She is, after all, famous for doing just about nothing.
4) I don't know Mindy McCready - the country singer - but her mugshots were scary. So sad cause she's only 31.
5) Nicole Richie - is she or isn't she pregnant? Do we really care? If she is, I would think people would feel sorry for the baby because she is, after all, famous for ummm....again, nothing.
I find myself pondering - 'What is wrong with these girls?!' They are supposed to be "role models" although what parent, in their right mind, would want their kids looking up to any of them... It's sad to say, but it seems like these girls are all in it for the fame and fortune. And if they even try to blame their downfall on the media, then someone needs to throw the fact that they chose this path, back in their faces. Even Tara Reid manages to keep herself out of trouble, while she's making a drunken fool out of herself. But what's even more disturbing is that these girls' parents are in no way stepping in trying to stop the downward spiral...although part of Mindy's battle is with her parents so she's exempt here. I'll tell ya - if I ever did ANYTHING that put me one step closer to jail, my parents would've tarred, feathered and then disowned me. I think these girls need some tough love.
Really though, I wish the media would just stop with the coverage - who cares? Why don't we concentrate on more worthy things like which country do we think Angelina is going to adopt from next...or what branch of consumer products will 'Stuff by Hillary Duff' expand to next in her quest to beat out that darn Olsen Empire..or when Naomi Watts is finally going to pop out that freakin' baby (I swear, she looked like she was 15 months pregnant)...oh wait, she just did.
Friday, July 27, 2007
I'm Only a 32-Year-Old White Girl
I learned something new this week. I love coffee. I do not love "Coffee Grinders."
Jen and I take a hip hop class on Monday nights. It's a great workout and the perfect supplement to our Michael Jackson/Guns N' Roses/Prince dance repertoire. There have been highs and lows. A high was when Jen and I got "promoted" from the beginning class to Hip Hop II. We beat out a lady I liked to refer to as "Henry Winkler" for the spots (sorry, I know it's mean, but she totally reminded me of the Fonz). The first low was learning that the Hip Hop II syllabus included some very painful breakdancing. Now, when I first heard "break dancing," I got a little fired up. I'm not going to lie, I had visions of "Billie Jean" (some nice moonwalking, maybe a little "worm"). Instead, we got various shades of Willard in "Footloose" (rest in peace, Chris Penn). In other words, a lot of clumsily moving around on our hands and knees on the floor. We started with the "six step," a maneuver I would never attempt on an actual slab of cardboard. Jen and I went from superstar to remedial in a week (sorry Jen - I don't mean to drag you down with me, but that first Hip Hop II class SUCKED). We begrudgingly eventually got the hang of it.
But this Monday, the instructor unleashed the new beast: the Coffee Grinder. You may have seen Willard do something similar during the prom segment in “Footloose.” The Coffee Grinder involves crouching on the ground with your hands in front of you, extending one leg out to the right or left (depending on the leg) and swinging it all the way around like a compass (and hopping over it when it gets to the other leg). The instructor made us repeat this move on both legs roughly 60 times. Luckily for me, she stopped by to check my form at about rep 48, when I was physically exhausted and barely able to complete the first step of just crouching down. As she stood over me like a drill sergeant, I could barely contain the obscenities I was saying inside my head. And I know I had my bitch face on. All I kept thinking about was Danny Glover in Lethal Weapon, "I'm too old for this." My body agreed. In addition to the absolute muscle hell, I got a nice souvenir of a giant blister on the palm of my left hand. Hmm..... maybe that's why Michael Jackson wore the one glove . . .
Jen and I take a hip hop class on Monday nights. It's a great workout and the perfect supplement to our Michael Jackson/Guns N' Roses/Prince dance repertoire. There have been highs and lows. A high was when Jen and I got "promoted" from the beginning class to Hip Hop II. We beat out a lady I liked to refer to as "Henry Winkler" for the spots (sorry, I know it's mean, but she totally reminded me of the Fonz). The first low was learning that the Hip Hop II syllabus included some very painful breakdancing. Now, when I first heard "break dancing," I got a little fired up. I'm not going to lie, I had visions of "Billie Jean" (some nice moonwalking, maybe a little "worm"). Instead, we got various shades of Willard in "Footloose" (rest in peace, Chris Penn). In other words, a lot of clumsily moving around on our hands and knees on the floor. We started with the "six step," a maneuver I would never attempt on an actual slab of cardboard. Jen and I went from superstar to remedial in a week (sorry Jen - I don't mean to drag you down with me, but that first Hip Hop II class SUCKED). We begrudgingly eventually got the hang of it.
But this Monday, the instructor unleashed the new beast: the Coffee Grinder. You may have seen Willard do something similar during the prom segment in “Footloose.” The Coffee Grinder involves crouching on the ground with your hands in front of you, extending one leg out to the right or left (depending on the leg) and swinging it all the way around like a compass (and hopping over it when it gets to the other leg). The instructor made us repeat this move on both legs roughly 60 times. Luckily for me, she stopped by to check my form at about rep 48, when I was physically exhausted and barely able to complete the first step of just crouching down. As she stood over me like a drill sergeant, I could barely contain the obscenities I was saying inside my head. And I know I had my bitch face on. All I kept thinking about was Danny Glover in Lethal Weapon, "I'm too old for this." My body agreed. In addition to the absolute muscle hell, I got a nice souvenir of a giant blister on the palm of my left hand. Hmm..... maybe that's why Michael Jackson wore the one glove . . .
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Commercials That Make Me Cringe
I find I don't really pay too much attention to commercials these days. At least half of the time, I'm fast forwarding through the commercials on my Ti-Faux anyway. But there are a handful of commercials that irritate me so much that I have to change the channel or hit mute immediately - even if I'm in the other room. It's irrational, I know, but these commercials just get under my skin, and I want to send a nastygram to the ad agencies that created them (if anyone knows the respective agencies for the ads mentioned here, feel free to send this post their way). And here they are:
Smart Start Healthy Heart: Meredith Viera wannabee telling me how smart her cereal is. Lady, your cereal is inanimate. Spare me. And at the end of the commercial, when you say how "dumb of you" it was not to mention the great taste, I have to say, you're half right. You are dumb.
Some telephone company: The one where the stereotypical loser guy is asking the technician if it's possible that all of these hot chicks tried to call him at once and jammed up his phone line. And when the technician says the chances of that happening are one in a million, stereotypical loser guy predictably responds, "So you're saying there's a chance?" Are you kidding me? Did the ad agency think we wouldn't notice they flat out stole this line from "Dumb and Dumber?" Stereotypical loser guy actor - you should be ashamed of yourself. Even if you were living in a cardboard box and needed this gig to buy ramen noodles, there's no excuse for disgracing Jim Carrey like that.
Random insurance company/real estate company or something: The one where the guy tries to fix the Hoover dam with a piece of chewing gum. Uh - Vegas Vacation anyone? Come on. What's next? Backing into Stonehenge with a station wagon? Frying a cat under the wing back chair with some Christmas lights?
Smart Start Healthy Heart: Meredith Viera wannabee telling me how smart her cereal is. Lady, your cereal is inanimate. Spare me. And at the end of the commercial, when you say how "dumb of you" it was not to mention the great taste, I have to say, you're half right. You are dumb.
Some telephone company: The one where the stereotypical loser guy is asking the technician if it's possible that all of these hot chicks tried to call him at once and jammed up his phone line. And when the technician says the chances of that happening are one in a million, stereotypical loser guy predictably responds, "So you're saying there's a chance?" Are you kidding me? Did the ad agency think we wouldn't notice they flat out stole this line from "Dumb and Dumber?" Stereotypical loser guy actor - you should be ashamed of yourself. Even if you were living in a cardboard box and needed this gig to buy ramen noodles, there's no excuse for disgracing Jim Carrey like that.
Random insurance company/real estate company or something: The one where the guy tries to fix the Hoover dam with a piece of chewing gum. Uh - Vegas Vacation anyone? Come on. What's next? Backing into Stonehenge with a station wagon? Frying a cat under the wing back chair with some Christmas lights?
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Closing Up Shop
We all have our little routines at work. I know a lot of people, like me, start out the day by getting situated at the computer, grabbing a cup of coffee, reading up on current events (i.e., E! online, televisionwithoutpity.com, in addition to any incidental "real news" I encounter along the way), and catching up on personal e-mail. After checking these items off the list, I am ready for the day to begin. I also have a "closing up shop" routine. This phase lasts a good hour and begins after the support staff start trickling off for the night. There is one employee whose schedule I monitor with particular interest. This is the paralegal with the candy dish. She leaves at 5:30 every day (barring any unexpected deadlines). At about 5:20, I am practically drooling thinking about my candy conquest. Which Hershey kiss variety will it be this time? (I like the truffle ones). It is very important to me that said paralegal is not at her desk when I set out for my prize. I know her candy dish is there to share and all, but I don't want to hover. And I also don't want her to think I only like her for her candy. So I gladly wait it out until the coast is clear.
5:30 is also the time I start planning for the collection of the office trash. Like most offices, every day, a cleaning crew from the building comes around to empty recycling bins and trash cans by every desk. When I hear the master garbage can rolling my way (you know, the bin into which the smaller trash cans are dumped), I try to think of a way to busy myself away from my desk. I may head to the ladies room, spend a few more minutes at the candy dish, wash out some coffee mugs - anything. I just can't stand to be at my desk when my trash is being emptied. It's not because I think the cleaning crew is beneath me. It's because I find the whole situation so awkward. As I sit there, probably just surfing the internet or e-mailing a friend, while someone is cleaning up after me, for some reason I can't stop picturing Goldie Hawn's mother in "Overboard," with her little yippie dog, silk robe, and sleep mask, being waited on hand and foot while she eats bon bons. Also, I can't stand to be sitting there when the guy sees my trash and inevitably starts thinking to himself, "this chick sure chews a lot of gum." Yeah . . . that's a situation I like to avoid.
5:30 is also the time I start planning for the collection of the office trash. Like most offices, every day, a cleaning crew from the building comes around to empty recycling bins and trash cans by every desk. When I hear the master garbage can rolling my way (you know, the bin into which the smaller trash cans are dumped), I try to think of a way to busy myself away from my desk. I may head to the ladies room, spend a few more minutes at the candy dish, wash out some coffee mugs - anything. I just can't stand to be at my desk when my trash is being emptied. It's not because I think the cleaning crew is beneath me. It's because I find the whole situation so awkward. As I sit there, probably just surfing the internet or e-mailing a friend, while someone is cleaning up after me, for some reason I can't stop picturing Goldie Hawn's mother in "Overboard," with her little yippie dog, silk robe, and sleep mask, being waited on hand and foot while she eats bon bons. Also, I can't stand to be sitting there when the guy sees my trash and inevitably starts thinking to himself, "this chick sure chews a lot of gum." Yeah . . . that's a situation I like to avoid.
The Perfect Pedicure
I have been the recipient of some fabulous pedicures. I have also been the recipient of some horrible pedicures. But more often than not, the majority have been good.
I never really started getting pedicures until I moved down to DC. It used to be more of a 'special occasion' thing with me. Now, it's more out of necessity because I just don't like it when my toe nails are bare and naked. Thankfully, toe nail polish stays on longer than manicures so I don't have to get them done as often. (My fingers are still on the 'special occasion' policy.)
So being that I've received numerous pedicures for the past five to six years, I have my favorite places because they're just so great at it....
In New York City, I love Rehoboth Spa Lounge, 14th Street & 6th Ave. I first went there when it was just Rehoboth Nails but I guess now it's a full fledged spa...but they are still reasonably priced - $29 pedicure, which includes a light massage, peppermint oil and the hot towel on the calves - which is always a BONUS. And when they bring you to the drying booth, they massage your shoulders - an unexpected super bonus!
But since I don't get a lot of opportunities to get into New York (only for my haircuts), I have had to search for another place closer to where I stay when I'm up in New Jersey. And I have found it - the Nail Spa II in West Caldwell, NJ. This place is new and I was lucky to have found it when they were having their grand opening. Their spa pedicure is about $25 and it includes exfoliation with sea salts, foot and leg massage, callus shaving, and the BONUS hot towel. But the last time I was there, at no extra cost, I got a HOT STONE massage on my feet. SUPER DUPER BONUS! They also ask if you want to add on extra services and because I'm pretty rough with my feet, I had asked them for the callus remover treatment - for the balls of my feet. And guess what - after pouring something liquid on my callus and then putting some parafin foot warmers on for about 20 minutes, I left there with NEW feet! I couldn't believe it. They totally won me over with that. I can hardly wait until my next visit.
When I go to Indiana, it's a crap shoot out there - they even have places that don't have nail dryers....I think that's just ridiculous. I did find a small spa that has girls that can do manicures but I guess it's rare that they're asked to do them. The one gal I had did a great job...I don't think I'll go back though - she had to go digging for a nail dryer. (I liked looking at her tattoos.)
But as I sit here now, I am in desperate need of a pedicure and I have to go to my local nail place - Tysons Nails. I really like them - the girls are friendly, they have the callus shaver, but they don't do hot towels (their only downfall). But my last visit there has left me more than a little hesitant to go back. I left there with a sore and bleeding big toe (from the girl cutting the cuticle too deep) and my heel bleeding from overzealousness with the callus shaver. I really thought I was going to go through a Paula Abdul with an infected toe nail. Thankfully, the toes are better - thanks to the Nail Spa in NJ.
So what makes a perfect pedicure for me - reasonable prices, nice people, a callus shaver, light massage, hot towels, good reading material, and no blood. Anything beyond that is a bonus.
I never really started getting pedicures until I moved down to DC. It used to be more of a 'special occasion' thing with me. Now, it's more out of necessity because I just don't like it when my toe nails are bare and naked. Thankfully, toe nail polish stays on longer than manicures so I don't have to get them done as often. (My fingers are still on the 'special occasion' policy.)
So being that I've received numerous pedicures for the past five to six years, I have my favorite places because they're just so great at it....
In New York City, I love Rehoboth Spa Lounge, 14th Street & 6th Ave. I first went there when it was just Rehoboth Nails but I guess now it's a full fledged spa...but they are still reasonably priced - $29 pedicure, which includes a light massage, peppermint oil and the hot towel on the calves - which is always a BONUS. And when they bring you to the drying booth, they massage your shoulders - an unexpected super bonus!
But since I don't get a lot of opportunities to get into New York (only for my haircuts), I have had to search for another place closer to where I stay when I'm up in New Jersey. And I have found it - the Nail Spa II in West Caldwell, NJ. This place is new and I was lucky to have found it when they were having their grand opening. Their spa pedicure is about $25 and it includes exfoliation with sea salts, foot and leg massage, callus shaving, and the BONUS hot towel. But the last time I was there, at no extra cost, I got a HOT STONE massage on my feet. SUPER DUPER BONUS! They also ask if you want to add on extra services and because I'm pretty rough with my feet, I had asked them for the callus remover treatment - for the balls of my feet. And guess what - after pouring something liquid on my callus and then putting some parafin foot warmers on for about 20 minutes, I left there with NEW feet! I couldn't believe it. They totally won me over with that. I can hardly wait until my next visit.
When I go to Indiana, it's a crap shoot out there - they even have places that don't have nail dryers....I think that's just ridiculous. I did find a small spa that has girls that can do manicures but I guess it's rare that they're asked to do them. The one gal I had did a great job...I don't think I'll go back though - she had to go digging for a nail dryer. (I liked looking at her tattoos.)
But as I sit here now, I am in desperate need of a pedicure and I have to go to my local nail place - Tysons Nails. I really like them - the girls are friendly, they have the callus shaver, but they don't do hot towels (their only downfall). But my last visit there has left me more than a little hesitant to go back. I left there with a sore and bleeding big toe (from the girl cutting the cuticle too deep) and my heel bleeding from overzealousness with the callus shaver. I really thought I was going to go through a Paula Abdul with an infected toe nail. Thankfully, the toes are better - thanks to the Nail Spa in NJ.
So what makes a perfect pedicure for me - reasonable prices, nice people, a callus shaver, light massage, hot towels, good reading material, and no blood. Anything beyond that is a bonus.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
If Death Was Not an Option
So to continue with stories from last Friday night at karaoke, Amanda taught me a new game....'If death was not an option.'
This was the sitch....afraid that we wouldn't have a great place to sit and view the karaoke stage, Amanda and I decided to head over to Rock-It for dinner to secure our spaces for the evening. It wasn't busy at all but there were a few people milling about. Two girls that caught my attention...we'll refer to them as the 'Troll Girls' or 'TG' for short. I thought this nickname was appropriate because 1) they looked like trolls and 2) they were definitely trolling for some action. Both were wearing bustier/corset-like tops with jeans and horrible shoes. Troll Girl 1 (TG1) was wearing a black one and Troll Girl 2 (TG2) was wearing a red one with leopard print on the back...meeeeow! I happened to turn to the table behind me and saw that they were sitting there. TG2 was straddling her chair (she turned it around to face backwards)...kind of like when Janet Jackson did her chair dance at the end of the 'Miss You Much' video. I turned to Amanda and was like, 'Who sits like that anymore?'
At least one of the TGs was sporting dog tags. I wondered whether those were her own, fake accessories or souvenirs of conquests. I vote her own because neither girl knew how to dress well enough for them to qualify as accessories.
So as I kept catching glimpses of the TGs, the more I realized how much they really resembled trolls. And then this led to the game with Amanda - if death was not an option, which TG would you rather go home with. (warning: this is PURELY hypothetical) This game is great fun. So basically you're forced to choose one because death is not an option. As our friends came trickling in and I pointed out the TGs to them, I had to have them play along...."Hey, if death was not an option, which one would you go for?" This question sure did illicit a lot of, "Really? Death is not an option? Can I poke my eyes out?" Response: No, you can't poke your eyes out because you'd still know what the TGs look like and you would still be going home with one of them. Another consideration? "How about both because if each one was considered a four on a scale of 1-10, together, they would make an eight." Yeah - I had to explain that in this situation, two negatives don't make a positive. Besides, giving each girl a four was mighty generous - I would've given each, at most, a two....and that's if I had my beer goggles on.
You're probably wondering what the results of our little game was:
Amanda - TG2
Jen - TG1
Nicole - at first, TG2 but after more looks, switched over to TG1
Anthony - I think he's still holding out for death.
This was the sitch....afraid that we wouldn't have a great place to sit and view the karaoke stage, Amanda and I decided to head over to Rock-It for dinner to secure our spaces for the evening. It wasn't busy at all but there were a few people milling about. Two girls that caught my attention...we'll refer to them as the 'Troll Girls' or 'TG' for short. I thought this nickname was appropriate because 1) they looked like trolls and 2) they were definitely trolling for some action. Both were wearing bustier/corset-like tops with jeans and horrible shoes. Troll Girl 1 (TG1) was wearing a black one and Troll Girl 2 (TG2) was wearing a red one with leopard print on the back...meeeeow! I happened to turn to the table behind me and saw that they were sitting there. TG2 was straddling her chair (she turned it around to face backwards)...kind of like when Janet Jackson did her chair dance at the end of the 'Miss You Much' video. I turned to Amanda and was like, 'Who sits like that anymore?'
At least one of the TGs was sporting dog tags. I wondered whether those were her own, fake accessories or souvenirs of conquests. I vote her own because neither girl knew how to dress well enough for them to qualify as accessories.
So as I kept catching glimpses of the TGs, the more I realized how much they really resembled trolls. And then this led to the game with Amanda - if death was not an option, which TG would you rather go home with. (warning: this is PURELY hypothetical) This game is great fun. So basically you're forced to choose one because death is not an option. As our friends came trickling in and I pointed out the TGs to them, I had to have them play along...."Hey, if death was not an option, which one would you go for?" This question sure did illicit a lot of, "Really? Death is not an option? Can I poke my eyes out?" Response: No, you can't poke your eyes out because you'd still know what the TGs look like and you would still be going home with one of them. Another consideration? "How about both because if each one was considered a four on a scale of 1-10, together, they would make an eight." Yeah - I had to explain that in this situation, two negatives don't make a positive. Besides, giving each girl a four was mighty generous - I would've given each, at most, a two....and that's if I had my beer goggles on.
You're probably wondering what the results of our little game was:
Amanda - TG2
Jen - TG1
Nicole - at first, TG2 but after more looks, switched over to TG1
Anthony - I think he's still holding out for death.
Monday, July 23, 2007
I Heart Freebies
I loved the Ugly Betty episode where the employees at Mode were abuzz about the cleaning of “The Closet” and the swag that would come out of it. I can see why celebrities still get excited about loaned designer dresses and jewels and awards show gift bags even though they could totally afford that stuff. They just can’t help but love a freebie.
I’m the same way. On a much much smaller scale. Sure, I would love designer purses, shoes, and frocks thrown my way. But since I am not in that market, I happily settle for the screenprinted promotional items distributed by everyone from competing companies to Coors Light. It is kind of a personal contest for me. How much can I rack up?! I am one of the lucky ones at work. I work with a client company that has its own logo store, and I have benefited greatly from this. At holidays, I have acquired travel mugs, polo shirts, fleeces, and a very nice set of promotional beanie babies. The beanie babies chill on my bookshelf at work, and I have to keep a watch on them because I know they are coveted. Of course, I liked this client anyway, but that “like” combined with the swag = love.
At bars, I simply cannot resist the lure of the Miller Lite/Bud Lite/Sam Adams/Random Liqueur Girl. I must have that t-shirt, flashing pin, slap bracelet, bottle opener, wristband, pen, picture frame, CD opener, strand of beads, refrigerator magnet, visor – whatever it is she’s hawking. One Miller Lite girl was giving away miniature foam fingers. Even though she said she was out of them, when I told her it was “important,” she managed to find me one. After all, it’s for the cause.
But here’s the rub: what on earth do you do with all of this crap? I am sad to report that once my freebies make it home, they’ve lost their magic. A flashing pin in the shape of a Guinness glass is not nearly as exciting when it’s stabbing me in the finger every time I reach into the junk drawer (or in my purse, for that matter). When I am getting ready for a night on the town, I don’t think to myself, “You know what would look great with this outfit? My Sam Adams beads.”
I’m the same way. On a much much smaller scale. Sure, I would love designer purses, shoes, and frocks thrown my way. But since I am not in that market, I happily settle for the screenprinted promotional items distributed by everyone from competing companies to Coors Light. It is kind of a personal contest for me. How much can I rack up?! I am one of the lucky ones at work. I work with a client company that has its own logo store, and I have benefited greatly from this. At holidays, I have acquired travel mugs, polo shirts, fleeces, and a very nice set of promotional beanie babies. The beanie babies chill on my bookshelf at work, and I have to keep a watch on them because I know they are coveted. Of course, I liked this client anyway, but that “like” combined with the swag = love.
At bars, I simply cannot resist the lure of the Miller Lite/Bud Lite/Sam Adams/Random Liqueur Girl. I must have that t-shirt, flashing pin, slap bracelet, bottle opener, wristband, pen, picture frame, CD opener, strand of beads, refrigerator magnet, visor – whatever it is she’s hawking. One Miller Lite girl was giving away miniature foam fingers. Even though she said she was out of them, when I told her it was “important,” she managed to find me one. After all, it’s for the cause.
But here’s the rub: what on earth do you do with all of this crap? I am sad to report that once my freebies make it home, they’ve lost their magic. A flashing pin in the shape of a Guinness glass is not nearly as exciting when it’s stabbing me in the finger every time I reach into the junk drawer (or in my purse, for that matter). When I am getting ready for a night on the town, I don’t think to myself, “You know what would look great with this outfit? My Sam Adams beads.”
I'm a Minority....Again
Friday night brought Amanda and myself to our favorite karaoke bar - Rock-It Grill (in Old Town Alexandria). We haven't been there in awhile and it felt good to open up that front door and let the years of smoke just seep into your lungs. Sniff....ahhhh.
The reason why we love the place so much is because not only is the karaoke on a real stage with a dance floor, but it's a GREAT place for people watching. In the past year, we have seen softball teams, bachelorette parties, birthday parties, average Joes, and average schmoes. But the group that takes the cake in that bar....the military (followed closely by gals that are looking to hook up with a nice looking military boy).
There was also another classification of people, we noticed, that I would like to introduce that didn't seem very dominant in the past - the tattoo people. I don't know if there's a tight correlation between the military and tattoo people but there just seemed to be an overabundance of people with some kind of tattoo(s) on their person. And this is where I placed another check on my list of things for which I am a minority.
A couple sitting in the table next to us were all covered in tattoos. I saw a naked chic with a spiky garter belt, flames, words, symbols...and that was just on the one gal's arm. And just when you thought that maybe she was someone you didn't want to mess with, she had Hello Kitty 's face tattooed on her wrist to show off her softer side...I think. The guy was covered in flames, symbols and had paw prints up his neck, leading up to his ear. Yikes. We were sitting in a high traffic area so we got to see quite a few people and their ink....including a Josh Grobin singing military guy with colored flames down his arm..ooooh.
In the past weekend, it just seems like I am now surrounded by tattoo people. At a birthday party on Saturday night, there was a lady (whom I would NEVER want to mess with) that had both arms tattooed, in color, like sleeves. How much did that hurt?
It got me thinking about what I would ever get tattooed on my body, if I had the nerves. I would probably get a star in a place that would not stretch overly much through the years and where my Mom could never see it. But who am I kidding....I would really be like Phoebe, in 'Friends,' where she goes to get the tattoo but manages to come back with a dot because she got scared in the last second...yup, that would be me.
The reason why we love the place so much is because not only is the karaoke on a real stage with a dance floor, but it's a GREAT place for people watching. In the past year, we have seen softball teams, bachelorette parties, birthday parties, average Joes, and average schmoes. But the group that takes the cake in that bar....the military (followed closely by gals that are looking to hook up with a nice looking military boy).
There was also another classification of people, we noticed, that I would like to introduce that didn't seem very dominant in the past - the tattoo people. I don't know if there's a tight correlation between the military and tattoo people but there just seemed to be an overabundance of people with some kind of tattoo(s) on their person. And this is where I placed another check on my list of things for which I am a minority.
A couple sitting in the table next to us were all covered in tattoos. I saw a naked chic with a spiky garter belt, flames, words, symbols...and that was just on the one gal's arm. And just when you thought that maybe she was someone you didn't want to mess with, she had Hello Kitty 's face tattooed on her wrist to show off her softer side...I think. The guy was covered in flames, symbols and had paw prints up his neck, leading up to his ear. Yikes. We were sitting in a high traffic area so we got to see quite a few people and their ink....including a Josh Grobin singing military guy with colored flames down his arm..ooooh.
In the past weekend, it just seems like I am now surrounded by tattoo people. At a birthday party on Saturday night, there was a lady (whom I would NEVER want to mess with) that had both arms tattooed, in color, like sleeves. How much did that hurt?
It got me thinking about what I would ever get tattooed on my body, if I had the nerves. I would probably get a star in a place that would not stretch overly much through the years and where my Mom could never see it. But who am I kidding....I would really be like Phoebe, in 'Friends,' where she goes to get the tattoo but manages to come back with a dot because she got scared in the last second...yup, that would be me.
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