I believe that last year, I went on a rant about the myriad idiots who block the store entrances, the side walks and the tramcar routes on the boardwalk at the shore.  I thought this was kind of isolated to vacation spots because the mouth-breathers are too busy looking at the fancy ‘lectric lights and shiny stuff in the windows. I thought maybe they were so busy turning around to ask “Hey SugarButt! Y’all want some grease on them thar curly fries?” that they didn’t realize that Yo! People are tryin’ to walk ovah heah!

Unfortunately it seems to be spreading. And it doesn’t just apply to the folks strolling along looking at the lights/the sales/ the kids/ the half-clad teenage girls either! Now it is……..

Sports parents.

In my area, there are quite a few fields and the kids play everything …. soccer, field hockey and lacrosse. I don’t include  baseball and softball because those fields are set well away from the roads. But the holy trinity of many overprivileged kids is soccer, field hockey and lacrosse. These are the parents who (in my neighborhood at least)  are in many cases, well educated and expect their kids to have every single free moment scheduled with some type of activity.

The past few weeks, being out and about with Hubs, we have noticed a newer trend.

The game is over. The equipment is being gathered up and random clusters of parents and kids dot the field. But the others? They are returning to their cars or walking  home. And they are crossing streets that are not your friendly neighborhood quiet streets. Oh, no, my friends. They are crossing busy streets. Busy enough to have four-way traffic lights and not  just stop signs.

And they are crossing, not at the corners but anywhere they fucking feel like crossing. From between cars they step out with their kids. Some actually wait for the light to turn red and then they cross, stepping between the stopped cars. Not one. Not two. But groups.

One dad, carrying his water bottle and folding chair steps out, to be followed IN A ROW by grammy, wife with stroller, tyke carrying a wubby, and two sportsters playfully punching each other. The light changes and they are still in the street. And the cars begin honking, because they cannot move. But do they ever step it up? Do they perhaps begin to trot? No. They shuffle along, moving as if their feet are clad in lead boots. They never seem to stop….more keep coming….and coming….some at the corners, some still between the cars. None looking.

When the first car in line is the one honking the horn, they will give nasty looks or shout “What is your rush? ” and they begin to walk even slower! What the fuck is up with that?

Even down the shore – not just on the Boardwalk – but also crossing the streets the same way. It’s as if they left their brains behind when they went on vacation. Women walking their kids to the beach, men on their bicycles, and the worst offenders of all…..teenage girls. They shuffle along in their flipflops, texting or talking on their phones, never lifting an eye to the traffic ahead of them. God forbid you honk at them! Their world revolves around themselves so of course they think you are honking at them because they are so hot. They turn toward you with a look of disgust and yell out “What are you looking at, Perv?!” It would never occur to them that they are in the wrong.

Pedestrians have the right of way? Fuck that shit. I do not drive – ever. I am a lifelong pedestrian. When I am crossing the street, I use the corners. And I rush to the other side. Even when a driver waves me across in front of them, I will even hasten my step to a trot. I can’t imagine being arrogant enough to mosey, amble, sashay or stroll.

Think about the last time you were a pedestrian. Did you cross at the corner? Did you walk briskly?

Or were you one of those damned slow walkers that I just want to punch?

On Saturday, I was able to spend the glorious, sunshiney day with Family Tree Junkie and FudgeLady at the Morris Arboretum in the Chestnut Hill area of Philadelphia. The day was so very hot and humid, but surrounded by all the beauty and so much shade, we really didn’t feel it as much as one would think.

Roses, tons of roses, in many colors and sizes.

There were a few different fountains and plenty of sculptures. Many of the sculptures were placed among the foliage and we didn’t see them until we looked deeper into the leaves.

There were quite a few blooms that I had never seen before and they were exotic to me.

We also saw a couple different kinds of wildlife…. Chipmunks, ducks and a bachelor swan named George…If you look closely, you may see the groundhog peeking out of his burrow.We saw the groundhog so frequently that it was like he was stalking us….or just maybe there was more than one.

There were so many geese, but these guys stood still long enough for me to get my shot.

The weather was wonderful. The company couldn’t have been better.

I should stop to smell the roses more often!

I am a bitch. I make no apologies. This fact was made crystal clear today.

Michael Jackson is dead. I KNOW! I GET IT! It was plastered everywhere….every news channel, every entertainment channel, every talk show. There simply was no avoiding it.

True Hollywood Story ran their retread “THS:Michael Jackson” and “THS: The Jacksons”. MTV and VH1, who couldn’t have bothered with a music video in years, ran all of MJ’s videos hour after hour. And the lemmings sat in front of their boxes, spewing the platitudes “Oh I love that video! It’s my favorite”  And the next was their favorite and the next and the next ad nauseum. Make up your little mind  say it once, and mean it!

Even the weather report had to jump in. Yes, the weather! “The weather for tomorrow is sunny and pleasant….AND for those outside of his home, the weather is expected to remain clear”. WHAT THE FUCK????

There was a rush on music stores as “fans” raced to get their hands on anything “Michael Jackson” . What the fuck was that shit all about? If you liked him yesterday, why didn’t you buy his cds sooner?? Maybe he wouldn’t have gone into debt!  Adults grabbed their kids by the hands and dragged them along to witness their parents acting like lunatics.

And the other “fans”…….!!

Why is there a need to go to the hospital?  You serve no purpose being there other than possibly blocking ambulances from entering . What is the purpose of holding a sign that reads “Michael, we will miss you” ?  Michael cannot read it. HE’S DEAD!  Why gather in front of his childhood home?  He hasn’t lived there in decades!! You are only gathering there so that perhaps your face will be the one on the front page of the newpaper/magazine/on television.

Why must you buy flowers and put them all over the street? He surely can’t smell them or see them. Why buy a teddy bear and place it near his home? It is only going to be thrown away. Do you really think LaToya will pick up your flowers?  Will Tito pick up the teddy bear and no longer ache for his the loss of his brother?

Did you ’sob uncontrollably’ when you heard the news? Why?  Was he a personal friend of yours?  Did he bring attention to the fight against fading skin pigment? Yeah, right.

No crimes were committed. No one was murdered.  No one died other than Michael Jackson.  War ended. Or at least that is the impression one would get from watching the news programs. Michael Jackson died to give us world peace.

Gimme a break!

Yeah. I said it. I am a bitch. Don’t like it? Read someone else today. I don’t wanna hear it.

Twice today I heard about the death of an ‘icon’. Farrah Fawcett. Michael Jackson. Were there other celebrities of the 70’s that were bigger? Maybe. But the word ‘icon’ fits both of them.

Is there anyone who hasn’t seen the poster of Farrah in that red bathing suit? I remember thinking that she was so beautiful. To my adolescent eyes, she was perfect. Her hair flipped back perfectly. Her teeth were so white and straight. She looked at ease with her body when I was so self-conscious of my own.  When she moved on from “Charlie’s Angels” to movies, I was older. I remember how horribly battered and bruised her face was in “The Burning Bed” . I thought it was so brave of her to show herself thus when she was one of the world’s most beautiful women. Little did I know that at the end of her life she would take that bravery to a whole new level.

Dying of anal cancer, she appeared on television. Her once gorgeous face now showing the ravages of her illness. She spoke of  her body’s betrayal in a brutally candid documentary. Would I want to show myself even to family in the same condition? I don’t think I would. Yet, there she was.

Hours later, the rumors appeared that Michael Jackson had died. I watched the news, more out of curiosity than from shock. Later the confirmation appeared declaring that the “King of Pop” had indeed died. I loved his music. I watched the cartoons, the variety shows, the videos. I also remember the revulsion I felt as he altered his appearance. I stopped watching because it was just too sad to see him deny having work done. But the music…..oh, the music!

Accusations of  “inappropriate relationships” with children dogged him. To me, there was too much evidence against him. I believe that he was guilty.  I know there are many who think otherwise, but I will never be swayed.

Now that he is dead, the news will talk about all of his contributions to music. He was a maverick. He was a trendsetter.  All of this is true. That he may have been a pedophile will become but a footnote in his biography.

Two icons. Two very different legacies.

Two stars have fallen from the skies.

As I was getting ready to put away all remnants of ConFab,Baby, I found a few crumbs in the bottom of my suitcase…..

On the way to Kentucky, I had my first experience with Twitter. Since Bubblewench was driving, she was not able to continually check her phone. The little chime that signals a new tweet went off constantly and began to aggravate me (This has only convinced me that NO, I WILL NEVER TWITTER!!)   There came a tweet that required a response from her, so being the ever so responsible driver, she asked me to type her answer into the phone. When I finished, she said “Hit send”. As soon as I did, she let out a joyous yell…..”I POPPED YOUR TWAT!!”  And that was how I lost my Twittervirginity.

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After our first night on the road, we had to program the GPS for directions to Sybillaw’s house. Uh-oh, it wouldn’t work. Every so often, the signal was lost leaving us to fend for ourselves. We contacted Avis for advice and they told us to find the nearest office and they would hook us up  with a new one.  When we called the nearest?  They told us to call the GPS company! Neither helped us one iota. Needlesss to say, we considered that a great big ‘FAIL’ on the part of Avis.   Luckily for us, Sybil’s hubby lent us his TomTom and sent us on our way.

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On the way home, we stayed in a motel next to the “Busy Beaver”. I saw no beavers, busy or otherwise. But I still liked the name.

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Lastly, on the way home, we were driving along when suddenly we heard a loud bang. Having been beside a car when a tire exploded with Hubs, this was my first thought. We looked out the windows to see which car it was that would be possible be a danger to us, but we saw nothing. We looked at each other, perplexed. There was no explanation, so we continued on. Then, something caught my eye. It was a small indentation on the windshield in the very bottom of the right side. It resembled a BB shot. Not quite all the way through, it was only about the size of a quarter with very tiny spider cracks radiating.We must have been hit by a pebble thrown by a truck’s wheel.  At that time, all I could hear in my head was the voice of Leonardo DiCaprio in the movie “What’s Eating Gilbert Grape”…..

“I coulda dieded Gilbert! I coulda died!”

I am thinking of you, my friend on this Father’s Day.

Saturday dawned early…far too early for me.

Five am is no time to wake up when you have a migraine. At first I thought that maybe I was hung over. But as time passed (excruciatingly slow, I might add) I realized that it was going to be worse. I got pukey sick and my head felt like it was crushed by a truck hurt like the dickens. I began to get the chills and then I got the sweats. Eventually Bubblewench and Sybillaw woke up and we decided to get breakfast. I hoped that maybe some pancakes would soak up whatever was breaking out of upsetting my stomach. After eating, we returned to the room where I promptly fell asleep like a dead woman on the  couch. I slept so deeply that I heard no one enter or exit the room.

During my slumber, I missed a trip to see the horses,  a shopping excursion, a tattoo outing, lunch, and just socializing. But apparently I needed my rest because I awoke bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. I was finally ready to go to ConFab!!!

We called for a cab so that Bubblewench could get her drink on with us. (As you can see, we are quite responsible when getting shit-faced). When we arrived at Bliss Manor, some folks were relaxing on the deck, others were by the outdoor bar, and still others were indoors. I got to meet such a supah blogger named….wait for it….DUTCHBITCH!!!  Yes! She had made the trip from Dutchlandia. She was every bit as beautiful in person as I knew she would be!

Turnbaby was a busy little bee. No catering for that chick! She gave Martha Stewart a run for the money by making a slew of appetizers, beef tenderloin, and many other mouth-watering joys. Now that my stomach was better, I tried every.single.thing. Miss Turn was incredible, as was Mr Fabulous. They greeted us all and made sure that we all had full glasses, plates and conversations.

The drinks were…..

Ahh, the drinks……How to describe? Maybe this will do:

Homemade Sangria…..O.M.G!

This was the tip of the iceberg as far as alcohol goes!

And then…..Mr Evil Sadistic Fabulous brought out a tray of concoctions that was the downfall of many a blogger…….JELLO SHOTS!

There was much eating, much-much drinking, laughter, singing, chatting…..as well as tweeting….go figure….

Eventually all good things must come to an end. Since Bubblewench had left with others, Sybillaw and I were left behind. Lucky for us, Lynda was sober enough to drive us to the hotel, where we discovered that neither of us had a key for the room. We banged and complained (loudly) before staggering our way to the lobby for a new one. We got into the room and there was no sign of Bubblewench!  She had gone to party with other bloggers in the hotel and that’s why no one opened the door!!

Everyone had a wonderful time. New friends were made and old friendships were tightened. And may I add….the best shirt of the party:

I hope that I have an opportunity to meet all of these folks again. They are a wonderful bunch of people……

But we already knew that.

Drink count for the night: 2 extra superduper strong vodka and cranberry juice (Thanks Sodapop!), 5 bottles of water, 1 shot of moonshine….although I cannot remember if I actually did one. And jello shots: 1 coconut rum, 1 spiced(?) rum, 2 or 3 with vodka and the one made especially for me: Orange jello with Southern Comfort. I think I had 5 or 6…..I can’t remember that either…

ConFab has come and gone. An excellent time was had by all. I will attempt to tell you of all the fun.

Brad and Liz were the ultimate host and hostess. There was plenty of food and copious amounts of alcohol consumed by one and all. They seemed to be everywhere at once, making sure that everyone had a drink or a plate of food while cooking all sorts of culinary delights. They greeted each and every guest, acting as though we were all “family”. For this, Bubblewench and I rewarded them with a gift from our neck of the woods: Tastykakes. (YUMMY)

After settling in, napping up, and getting pretty, Sybil Law, Bubblewench and I joined the others at  Southland for a night of drinks and fun. On the big screen,  Becky watched her beloved Penguins win the Stanley Cup. So great was her happiness, that she bought a round of Patron shots for the entire bar to celebrate.  And then……

I, a Philadelphia native and Flyers fan, drank a congratulatory toast to the the Penguins. *I hang my head in shame*

Other shenanigans were afoot. Photos were taken (both Friday and Saturday) that showed me more than I ever wanted to know about my friends and their sexual prowess. I’d love to tell you all about it all, but ConFab is like fight club and Vegas….it all stays there.

Can we talk about karaoke? For sure! Brad and Liz are old pros. This is something they do frequently, so of course they jumped in right away. Karl gave his awesome serenade to Brad, Marty was incredible, and there was Coal Miner’s Granddaughter. This seemingly proper and low-keyed woman gave a rousing performance of  Sir Mix-a-lot’s “Baby Got Back”. But this was not the one I was most impressed with. Laci, a new friend, stepped onto the stage and sang Bare Naked Ladies’ “One Week”  This is a difficult song to sing totally sober. Laci was not. She sang the shit out of that song, not missing a word or a beat. She claims to have skipped a verse but I couldn’t tell.

Unfortunately, I was not feeling my best. It turned out that I was sick, but I didn’t know just how sick until the next morning.

Drink count for the evening: 4 waters, 3 beers, 1 Duck Fart, and 1 shot of Patron silver.

West Virginia

Ohio

Next stop will be Kentucky!!