Leslie's Omnibus

The End of the Line

If you didn't grow up in the era of the Carol Burnett Show, I feel really sorry for you.

One of my favorite cast members, the phenomenal Harvey Korman, along with comedian Tim Conway, was guaranteed to make you laugh until the tears ran down your face:

Go here, here and here for a joint Korman/Conway interview for their induction into the Academy of Television Arts & Sciences Hall of Fame.

Go here, here and here for a solo Korman interview for his induction into the Academy of Television Arts & Sciences Hall of Fame.

I didn't know he was from Chicago, or that he was a graduate of the Goodman School of Drama. Or that he was the voice of the Great Gazoo:

Harvey Korman. My hero. Godspeed, sir!


As I was crossing the Washington Street bridge heading over the Chicago River to Ogilvy Transportation Center last night, I had the strangest memory pop into my head.

Yup. It's the ear worm from hell, isn't it?

It's very cool that there are still a few untouched places on the planet. This story reminded me of the movie "The Gods Must Be Crazy." Let's hope those tribes remain untouched by our "superior" technology forever.

Happy weekend, everyone!

Road Conditions

Just got back from traffic court where the idiot cab driver that hit me insisted on pleading not guilty and forcing a trial.

He said:

-- There were no pedestrians anywhere near the intersection when he made his left-hand turn.

-- He never saw me.

-- "Something" hit the side of his cab, which was why he pulled over.

-- I asked him to call the police, and he did.

-- He did not have a cell phone. (See point immediately above.)

-- He offered his assistance before the police arrived.

His attorney intimated that:

-- I deliberately walked into the side of his client's taxi; or,

-- I drunkenly stumbled into the side of client's taxi;

-- Whichever of the above is "true," his client is the true victim;

-- I am a mercenary bitch out to take his client for everything he's worth, and take the taxi company along with him.

Fortunately, the judge found me to be a very credible witness and found the sonuvabitch guilty.


Now I need a good lawyer, because the cabbie and his attorney have pissed me off royally.

Excuse me while my head explodes...


This is funky cool news. (Well, unless you're this guy.) Better health through gator juice. Who'da thunk it?

If you're planning a trip to Chicago any time in the future, you might want to stop over here first. A visual guide to the Windy City's greasiest and greatest. I've noshed at several of the places listed, and can assure you the ratings are pretty accurate.


(A tip of the cap to Mike for the link!)

The daily giggle:


The speaking of human dignity, I give you the daily spit-take:
Just by going to a place such as St. Bart's, you are taking risks with human dignity. Many years ago, when as an associate at a big law firm I thought I was making a lot of money, LWJ and I went to St. Bart's, a French island in the Caribbean where French people and some deluded Americans indulge in nude bathing. There were affronts to human dignity everywhere one turned practically. For example, old and presumably rich French men with their young and beautiful girlfriends, both on the beach, and both as naked as the considerably separate days on which they were born, and one of them affronting human dignity for all he was worth, which I hope for her sake was a lot. The wine there is really good though.
(A tip of the cap to the Instapundit.)

Bus Fumes

What's with the idiotic teachers lately?
Carol Mooney, a spokeswoman for the association, said administrators violated a part of the contract that requires teachers to be treated "with respect and human dignity" by imposing a suspension.
I guess only teachers get respect and human dignity. Not their students, that's for sure.

It's truly a wonder more people aren't homeschooling these days.

Update: Two more examples of the sterling behavior being taught today's teachers. Who is interviewing these people, and how in the hell did they get hired in the first place???

The End of the Line

Just about every show I watched growing up had a theme song by Earle Hagan. Who knew? I heard about his passing on the radio this morning, which played his best known theme song:

I've had that in my head all day.

Farewell and Godspeed, Mr. Hagan. Thanks for all the happy memories.


This guy when looking for his lost kitty and found something else entirely. And how was YOUR morning?*

How much do you want to bet he's going to get his clock cleaned, too, when his wife gets back from vacation?

*Hear's hoping that poor woman gets some real help. It's a pity that's she's clearly a danger to herself as well as the community and nobody seems to know what to do with her.

Bus Fumes

Last June, militants in the southeastern Afghan city of Ghazni forced a 6-year-old boy to wear an explosives vest and told him to walk up to U.S. soldiers.

After asking Afghan soldiers for help, the boy said he was told that when he pressed the button, flowers would shoot out, officials said at the time.

If that doesn't set your hair on fire, I don't know what will.

I'd call the jihadists who are recruiting this kids fuckers, but that's too good for them.





With eensy peensy penises...

... and tinier balls.

Remember my concern about Google Health?
Back to the question of regulation: HIPAA seems to have left some gaping holes through which Microsoft's HealthVault and Google Health may pass. Those companies say that their privacy policies are more stringent than HIPAA and Google has said recently that serving ads on Google Health is not in the cards. The problem with relying on these statementsis simply that they are voluntary policies adopted by businesses that may change them over time. Other related parts of the health care information economy are similarly untouched by HIPAA.

This raises the perennial issue of the regulator: how do we regulate what is not covered by law?
Chew on that for a while. Nice to see the MSM paying attention to that amid the hype, isn't it.

Speaking of things that set my hair on fire, this did it for me, too. I'm sending a check off today. How about you?


When I was growing up and attending this small church in the burbs, one of our member families had an older daughter who was legally blind and profoundly mentally retarded. Diana loved church, and was delightfully outgoing.

The thing she loved the best about church services was the music, and she'd shriek her delight and sing along, far, far out of tune, at the top of her lungs. When a hymn or choral piece was over, she'd clap her hands in glee.

Was she a disturbance? Yep. Did a single one of us care? Nope... because when Diana was noisy in church, it was a JOYFUL noise. When Diana was happy to see you (and she always was), it always involved rushing up for a hearty hug and sloppy kiss.

I have wonderful memories of this sweet and special lady.

That's why I find this article so disturbing.

Boy, oh, boy, can I see both sides of that argument, but this never should have ended up court.

I invite your opinions in the comments.

I'm assembling my gift list for Blogtoberfest. (We are having one, right???)

So far, I'm thinking V-Man could probably use this for his menagerie. (A tip of the cap to my Biker Blog Son for the product promo.)

Knowing how much Shovel Boy loves him some zombies, this might just have to come along for the ride.

Now, who else am I leaving out???

You Are a Salty Person

When it comes to snacks, you're more likely to grab a bag of chips over a bag of cookies.

There's a good chance you're male (men prefer salty snacks)... [Nope]

Or at least, you feel very comfortable in male dominated environments. [Yes, indeedy.]

Your taste tends to be complex, sophisticated, and adult.

You tend to crave your favorite restaurant meal... or mom's cooking.

(Via Sourpuss, who's also Salty.)

I tripped over I Has A Hotdog today, and couldn't stop giggling over this:


Reminds me of someone I know. I don't know why.

(Never let it be said I'm not equal opportunity when it comes to cats and dogs!)


Is it me, or does it look like you'd need a special license to drive this bad boy?

While I'm dreaming here, I'd like to put this on my wish list, too. Forget the motorized barstool.

I'd say this kid has some serious issues. Scary, scary stuff.

(But let me ask you something -- why in the world would they have ANYTHING in that house that they knew could cause a reaction like that?)

Fruit Loops. Yep. We've got one in the Windy City.

I haven't played with Blogthings for a while. Here's a few for you:

Your Kisses Are Spicy and Wild

Your kisses are powerful stuff. They'll start a fire in almost anyone you kiss.

You kiss with passion, skill, and endurance. Anyone who kisses you is in for a long, intense ride.

You better watch out though. Your incredible kisses are likely to get you in trouble!

Your Kiss is Orange

For you, kissing is all about pushing the envelope. You're a wild kisser.

And you don't have to know someone all that well to kiss them.

(You figure that's how you'll get to know one another!)

While you may be impulsive with who you kiss, there's nothing random about your kissing technique.

Kissing Type: Unconventional

People See Your Kisses as: Intoxicating

You Kiss Best With: A Red Kisser

Stay away from: A Pink Kisser

Your Quirk Factor: 51%

You're a pretty quirky person, but you're just normal enough to hide it.

Congratulations - you've fooled other people into thinking you're just like them!

(Are you sensing a theme here?)

Just because I miss Saturday morning cartoons:


Happy weekend.

Traveling Companions

Yeah, you already knew I was a sucker for cats... but did you know I also have a big ol' soft spot for Frenchies, too?

This satisfied my appetite for both:

So damn cute.

Bus Fumes

This is a tragedy, and my heart goes out to the entire family.

This, on the other hand, is a travesty. In a world that was fair and just, those three women and every DCF caseworker responsible for handling his case would receive the same treatment poor Jaylen did.

Words fail me.


He is absolutely correct:
I guarantee you’ll never be able to get this picture out of your head for as long as you shall live.

This post about bezoars brought to mind a tale my (former, and could be again if she'd just suck it up and apologize) sister told from back in the day when she worked at a Big Eight accounting firm (yes, a million years ago) in their medical/hospital practice.

Seems as she was auditing medical records she came across one describing a young child who was brought in to the ER for severe stomach pains. X-rays showed a mass the size of a softball in her stomach, and she was immediately sent for surgery.

Of course, the doctor's and parents' first fear was that it might be cancerous.

When the doc emerged from surgery, he calmed the parents down by explaining that it was, indeed, not cancer. It was, however, a head-scratcher.

What they found was a bezoar comprised entirely of synthetic hair.

Mama did a Bou *blink* *blinketty-blink* *blink* and said, "Oh. That explains it."

Doc said, "Oh, that explains what?"

Apparently the child had over 20 bald Barbies in her toy box. Mama never saw her chewing on the hair... but neither did she ever find any of the hair around the house.

A Barbie hairball. Imagine that.


One guy with a guitar + one guy with the oddest drum I've ever seen + one little Welsh girl with an incredible set of pipes = earworm of the day.

Turn your speakers up. Way up!

If that doesn't make you smile, I don't know what will.

This is just so freaking sad it breaks my heart:
The origin of the well-fed, declawed black cat remained a mystery, but authorities said it did not appear to have been living in the wild.
These are not pets, people. And, if you made the mistake of thinking that cute little kitten wouldn't grow up to be too much big cat to handle, there are places you can turn to. Whoever turned that cat loose should've been shot, instead of the animal.

It is well know that I have no sympathy whatsoever for Drew Peterson, but this is just wrong. I'm much happier when he's not getting media attention, m'kay?

For Zonker (whose former blog is now a pimp page for all sorts of strange products): Ken Lee - The Remix!


Another candidate for #1 Darwin Award winner of the year can be found here.

The CrankyProf, she makes me giggle like a loon. Go see for yourself why.

I can't recall where I saw the reference to Johnny Yuma earlier today... but it sure got the old earworm fired up. Behold:

With a western-mad younger brother, I cut my teeth on shows like this. Good, good stuff.

Speaking of things western, are you going to the BlownStar Blogmeet? Some of the most wonderful bloggers I know are going to be there. Some of the nicest commentors, too.

(*double take* Holy crap! They even managed to get kerrcarto blogging, instead of commenting!)

Between the ultra-inexpensive cost, the delicious scenery and the outrageous fun, you're really missing out on the good stuff if you miss this.

Pack your suit, your hat, your boots and your fishin' pole, grab a cheap ticket and come join us, won't you?

Bus Fumes

Why in the world would anyone want to store all their medical data on Google Health? Sure, they've got a Privacy Policy... but not even HIPPA restrictions are easy to bring under compliance, and I don't see anything that states that Google Health is required to maintain these records under HIPPA law. This seems to me to be just dangling really stinky, juicy bait under the nose of a hoard of knuckle-cracking hackers.

Call me nuts, but you may as well just plaster your medical records in your living room window and be done with it.

Geeze! Ken Lammers is waiving temptation under my nose. He must have heard I'm hard up for a date lately...

If you are one of the 80+% discussed here, stop it, please! That cabbie who hit me? Yes -- he was on his cell phone. Talking on a cell phone, whether holding it up to the side of your head or talking hands-free, is the most distracting thing you can do while driving.

If you absolutely have to yap on the damned thing, pull over and put it in park, m'kay?


Heard this for the first time on Steve & Johnny's show in the wee small hours of the morning:

I want the whole album. Right. Now.

(I woke up at 2:00 a.m. and it took me two hours to get back to sleep. Good radio show. Great tips on new musicians, old musicians and every kind of musician in between. Give a listen to their podcasts here.)


I can see clearly now...

... that I've got my new specs from Zenni Optical. $35 including frames, lenses, polarized clip-on sunnies and postage and handling. No more losing expensive glasses for me. In fact, I could buy another cool pair from Zenni every other week for a year and still not spend what those gougers at Lenscrafters stuck me for. Yes, it took about two weeks. But for pennies on the dollar, it was well worth the wait!

(Thanks, Pammy for the tip.)

A bit of Sunday silliness:

more cat

Thanks to Teresa, I now know my drinking style:


Drinking style
1leoLeo likes to drink and dance — they’re often fabulous dancers, and usually pretty good drinkers as well, losing their commanding dignity and turning kittenish. Of course, they’re quite aware they’re darling — Leos will be Leos, after all. They generally know their limit, probably because they loathe losing self-control. When they get over-refreshed, expect flirting to ensue — and perhaps not with the one what brung them. But Leo’s not the type to break rules even when drunk, so just try to ignore it (try harder, Cancer) and expect a sheepish (and hung over) Lion to make it up to you the next day.

Trademark cocktails
Leos like flashy drinks, be they complicated tropical concoctions festooned with umbrellas, like a Bahama mama or the more common strawberry daiquiri or mai tai. Indeed, they often have a taste for the fruity — try a screwdriver, or add an extra cherry to the next Manhattan. Their sense of drama lends itself to a kir royale, of course.

Drinking buddies
Ben Affleck, Gillian Anderson, Bill Clinton, Monica Lewinsky, Jennifer Lopez, Madonna, Debra Messing, Kevin Spacey, Martha Stewart, Andy Warhol

Gadzooks. Paragraph 1 is absolutely bang-on. Paragraph 2 is so far from my style that it's hilarious. Paragraph 3? Gag me. Not even if they were paying. (And every Blown-Eyed and Blown-Starred blodger who knows me is rolling on the floor in glee at the thought.)

This had me spewing all over the monitor. Took a full roll of paper towels to clean up the mess.

Here We Go Again

Dr. Helen sometimes asks the darnedest questions:
Have you ever dated a divorced man or woman? If so, what were the issues? Did it work out or not? If you are a divorced man or woman, do you have any better, less sexist advice? Read the column and let me know.
Even more fascinating is the fact that, as of this writing, ALL of her repondents are men, and none of them are bashing divorced women on the subject. Their experiences and critiques are spot-on.

Since I'm divorced myself and have dated divorced men (and we all know how much I love dating), and since, many moons ago, I worked for a family law attorney, this is a subject near and dear to my heart.

Yep. She's correct about the sexist nonsense handed out in the self-help books she cites. I have a much more practical approach to dating a divorced guy, and would expect that men should pretty much take the same approach in dating divorced women:

Make sure he's really divorced. It should come as no surprise that many married people (men and women) troll the personal ads, bar scenes and online dating services looking for a little nookie on the side. Google his name. Dig a little deeper if you're not sure. Why? A good friend of mine met a guy while we were out when I was up visiting recently. The guy claimed he was divorced, but something didn't smell right. So she did a little noodling around the net. Surprise, suprise, surprise. Sadly, this happens all the time.

Forewarned is forearmed.

So he's told you up front that he's in the process of a divorce. How far along in the process is he? See 1. above. If he (or she) is just entering the process, it is simply not a good time to get involved. Divorce is a soul-sapping experience, even if you're doing it no fault and/or going through a mediator. I purposely didn't even re-enter the dating market until a year after my divorce was final because I didn't want to be hauling any heavy, unwieldy baggage along with me. I wanted to be able to enter a new relationship with an open heart, not a heavy one.

Was he the dumper or the dumpee? In my experience, both professional and personal, the dumpee (again, man or woman) takes a LOT longer to get over a divorce than the dumper. I don't date depressed people or angry people. That person should seek professional help and get himself into a good place before he get backs on that dating horse. My idea of a good time is not to play therapist to my date. Someone who's done the heavy lifting to get himself into a better place personally, however, is mighty attractive to me.

How cordial is his relationship with his ex? This is especially important if there are children involved. Personally, I don't want any guy I date to be so close with his ex that it makes me uncomfortable (I had that happen once, and wouldn't tolerate it ever again) on the one hand. On the other, I really, really, really don't want to hear what a bitch the ex is, or to be held accountable for all her sins. I won't hold you responsible for my ex's failures, either.

His kids? If he has kids, I don't want to be with a guy who doesn't take care of his responsibilities to them -- financial, emotional, or otherwise. That's a walk away fast deal-breaker to me.

I do, however, have a problem with guys who go too far in the opposite direction, either. Guilt-ridden guys who cave in to their kids are just not attractive. Work your guilt out and be a good parent, okay? That's attractive.

Bonus points for a guy who gets along well with his ex when it comes to making parenting decisions.

BTW -- Don't yank me into a relationship with your kids until and unless we're dating exclusively and have a good idea that our relationship has some really long legs. I refuse to be the the bad guy to the kids and/or have my own heart broken if our relationship doesn't work and I've fallen head over heels for your kids. Not fair to them. Not fair to me.

He has kids, is acting responsibly (or trying to) towards them, but has the ex from Hell? This is where you really need to ask yourself just how much you're willing to tolerate in a relationship. If he's the greatest guy in the world in every other way, then you could choose to embrace the suck and stick with him. No whining or crying about it later. You knew it was there in the first place.

If that kind of conflict is just not your cup of tea, walk away, and do it sooner rather than later. Be honest with him and tell him that you just can't handle those kind of outside forces in a relationship. Wish him well and hope that he finds someone who can.

Believe it when he tells you what he wants. When I was doing the personal ads, I was amazed at just how many people paid no attention to what I said I wanted in terms of age, religious background, height, weight or ethnicity. Much the same as I really do know what I want, when a guy who sounds great in every other says he's looking for a 20 year-old with a bangin' bod, he really means it. Or if he's looking for companionship, but not a long term relationship. Yep. He means that, too. Don't even go there.

Know what you want from a relationship, too. Don't want to carry someone emotionally all the time? Don't do it. Don't want to carry someone financially? Don't do that, either. Want someone who'll meet you halfway? Don't settle for less. There are too many other wonderful folks out there.

Don't limit yourself. Much as the personals didn't work out for me, I do have friends who met and married through them. Do whatever feels right for you in terms of how you go about meeting people.

Never just toss a good fish back into the pond because he's not the right fish for you. If he's a good guy but not a good fit, who do you know that might be a good match? I have another set of friends where the guy met Friend No. 1 through the personals but didn't have any chemistry. Friend No. 1 thought he was a great guy, would make a great friend, and had Friend No. 2 with whom she felt he'd be a great match. Introductions were made and Great Guy and Friend No. 2 have been married for years now. Friend No. 1 is still great friends with both.

Deal from a position of honesty. Expect it in return. Really listen to what the other person is telling you. Listen as much to what your head is telling you as what your heart is telling you. Assume we're all grownups here.


Erica gets cool ear worms from time to time. I, on the other hand, got stuck with this one today:


I have a well known love of passive-aggressive notes (and today's is a Lulu!). Thus, tripping across this list of passive-aggressive punctuation marks is going to forever change my attitude towards typing!

Not for my girls! Nuh-UH! Not happening. Not ever.


Sick, I know, but this cracked me up:

more cat pictures

Oh. Mah. Gawd. I may never drink coffee again...

I am a good BlogMama. I got the funniest email this afternoon:
Granted, I'm a computer moron, but how does one post on your blog????
My response?
Go to www.blogger.com and sign in with your gmail address and password.

That should bring up your dashboard.

Click on "New Post".

The result? Three fast posts and a tweaking of his template. (And, ladies? He's single!!!)

For those of you who are blogging yet because you think it's too hard? Think again.

Speaking of coffee... there's an important message from your barista here.

God bless Mayor Daley. Every once in a great while he really is the voice of reason.

Another wonderful future Darwin Award winner here.

Quote of the Day:
Investigators suspect that he attempted to kill himself.

If I didn't know better, I'd bet that the title of this article was written by Great Reader himself. I'll never hear the McDonald's jingle again without laughing my fool head off.

Things I should have gone ahead and bought on my vacation, and am comforted to know I can buy online.

When you think you've got it rough, just remember this:
It's nice to be able to take a nap in the middle of the day if I feel the need, to go without shoes on for most the day, to take a shower when I need to, to eat when I feel the urge. I haven't felt this rested in a long time.
Be thankful for everything you do have. (Kevin's steadfast journey away from homelessness is an awesome story.)


You see a lot of strange people in Chicago, but today on my lunch hour I saw one who elevated oddness to a whole new level.

Tall (a good 6'2"+), skinny and clad in jeans and a hoodie.


I couldn't tell you. He had his hands jammed in his pockets and the hood up and tied so tight he was peering out of a hole the size of a quarter.

He had layers and layers of shopping bags tied over both feet, and shuffled along with his head down, trying to avoid eye contact with anyone.


Hey, You!

Note to reinstate@freewill.com:

Get your own blog, will you? If you're so full of opinions, that's where they properly belong.

Comments like yours will be routinely deleted here.


It wasn't me, okay?

My pal Christine is having a sale. I love, love, LOVE her stuff, and so does everyone else I've gifted from her Etsy shop.

She's a wicked, wicked temptress.

For the Headline of the Day, go here. And try not to snicker.

Giggle of the Day No. 1:

more cat pictures

Someone else has a guilt-inducer from The Princess Mom School of Child Rearing. Poor thing.

Giggle of the Day No. 2:

more cat pictures

From Sourpuss, this lovely meme:

Who are you? To find your new name, follow these instructions.

1. Use the third letter of your first name to determine your NEW first name:

a = snickle
b = doombah
c = goober
d = cheesey
e = crusty
f = greasy
g = dumbo
h = farcus
i = dorky
j = doofus
k = funky
l = boobie
m = sleezy
n = sloopy
o = fluffy
p = stinky
q = slimy
r = dorfus
s = snooty
t = tootsie
u = dipsy
v = sneezy
w = liver
x = skippy
y = dink y
z = zippy

2. Use the second letter of your last name to determine the first half of your new last name:

a = dippin
b = feather
c = batty
d = burger
e = chicken
f = barffy
g = lizard
h = waffle
i = farkle
j = monkey
k = flippin
l = fricken
m = bubble
n = rhino
o = potty
p = hamster
q = buckle
r = gizzard
s = lickin
t = snickle
u = chuckle
v = pickle
w = hubble
x = dingle
y = gorilla
z = girdl e

3. Use the third letter of your last name to determine the second half of your new last name:

a = butt
b = boob
c = face
d = nose
e = hump
f = breath
g = pants
h = shorts
i = lips
j = honker
k = head
l = tush
m = chunks
n = dunkin
o = brains
p = biscuits
q = toes
r = doodle
s = fanny
t = sniffer
u = sprinkles
v = frack
w = squirt
x = humperdinck
y = hiney
z = juice

I got Snooty Hamsterlips. You?

(Leave your new name in the comments so I can laugh at you!)

Spirograph for geeky grownups.

Tootin' the Horn

I've birthed myself another bouncing baby Blog Son!

In accordance with Harvey's rules of starting a blog, he's done his first sucky post.

Expect the suckage to be minimal, however, as Mark is a fine, fine author and chin-wagger who's awaiting delivery of his first novel any second now.

I'm bustin' buttons over this one!

(Speaking of Harvey, he's got a damn fine point here.)

Traveling Companions

The Princess Mom is a dandy traveling companion. Here she is, in all her sartorial splendor:

Yes, the hat actually came off at night. (And look, Christine! She's wearing these!)

Smokin' hot, no?

Smooth Sailing

The tickets are booked. The Princess Mom and I are flying back from Charleston, SC instead of parking our carcasses (because you do feel like dead meat after a few hours) in another motor coach for the 13+ hour trek back to Sarasota. We've emailed the travel agent the happy news. (God, I wouldn't want to be in his shoes the next time he hears from TPM. It ain't going to be pretty.)

You have no idea what a relief this is.

As an added bonus, because of the only available flight timing we'll actually be able to ditch our luggage and take a tour of Charleston, rather than just passing through. Given the bits we saw of it on our way to the ship, that's really going to be a treat.

The ride from the motel to Charleston was the very best part of the whole uncomfortable journey. Low Country is breathtaking. If my ass was aching, at least my eyes were feasting and happy. (And I'm going to have to find my way to blogmeets in both Charleston and Savannah. Both stunningly beautiful cities, both of which I want to spend a LOT more time exploring.)

After another round of Chinese firedrills and how many clowns can you fit into one of those tiny trick circus car routines, we were finally able to board our ship. It's a lot smaller than ones I've been on in the past, but it's also a brightly-polished gem. The food has been great so far -- a far cry from our last experience with Princess. There appear to be at least 5 cruise staff members per guest, and the scheduled events are pretty interesting.

It's an at sea day today, so we're mostly being slugs -- eating, reading and napping. This is what vacation is supposed to be all about -- truly relaxing. Ahhhhhhhhhh............


The Princess Mom woke up this morning, looked me dead in the eye, and said, "We're NOT taking the motor coach back."

Sometimes it pays to be the child of "royalty."

Hello, Dispatch???

The Omnibus Driver makes for a very cranky passenger, especially when Dipsy Doodle Motor Coach Driver #1 brings along Chirpy Cathy wife for the first leg of the journey from Sarasota, FL to Savannah, GA... and the journey begins at 5:15 a.m.

At best, your humble Omnibus Driver is not a morning person. At worst, I make the Incredible Hulk look like an amiable chap in the a.m.

Throw in Chirpy Cathy, who repeatedly played with pagers, cell phones, GPS devices, coffee cups, V-8 cans and rattled through a clipboard full of papers right in my ear and DDMCD#1 who chose to simultaneously eat an Egg McMuffin, slurp from a large coffee and repeatedly turn around to consult the GPS and consult/argue with CC about directions while on the road, and it's truly a wonder there was no reporting of road rage... or anyone thrown under the bus from inside the vehicle.

Let us just say that The Princess Mom and I shared mutual thought bubbles today, mostly pondering murder and mayhem. It's true. We are melding into one person, one thought process. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Legendary Journeys has a lot to answer for. They'll only be legendary on this journey for the length of the ride (10 plus hours for TPM and I, and 12 plus hours for those poor saps that got picked up first in Naples), the ineptitude of the drivers, neither of whom had a clue in hell where they were going or how to get there in the most expeditious fashion, and the unbelievably awful dining options (McD's for breakfast, a really bad truck stop for lunch, and a shopping mall food court for dinner).

Motor Coach Driver #2 finally got us to Savannah (after many cell phone calls to more experienced driver to figure out where the hell we were and where he needed to be), we were supposed to have a tour of the city. Our behinds were so numb that we were actually looking forward to crawling out of the motor coach and onto a nice, hard trolley bench for a change of pace. No such luck. We picked up a tour guide who took us around town in the MC for another hourand a half, then they dropped us down by the waterfront for an hour of tootling around on foot.

Then back on the $#@%^%^&* MC for a trip to the hotel, which is 20 miles outside of downtown Savannah... and has no restaurant on the premises. Suggested dining? See shopping mall above.

Let's just say that today was so bad that before I started this post The Princess Mom had me checking into options to fly back to Sarasota next Saturday. Cost, unfortunately, is prohibitive.

The cruise had better be good, or the poor sap at the travel agency that recommended it to the Princess Mom may not live to tell the tale.


Gotta go night-night. The motor coach pulls out tomorrow at 7:45 a.m. bound for Charleston, SC and our ship.

I need a hot tub. And a valium. And a hand gun would be nice. (Just kidding.) (I think.)

In any case, great minds think alike. No more million mile motor coach trips for TPM or I, ever. We pinky-swore on it.


Erica started it and Zonker followed suit. How could I resist such a challenge?

A loo rent to you, too.

Chantix has some interesting side effects: sleep disturbance (trouble sleeping, or vivid, unusual, or strange dreams)

This little post ought to be very helpful in that regard.

(Thanks a lot, Julie. Really. You outdid yourself.)

Somebody needs to find their sense of humor here. Anything that induces people to come to a full stop at a stop sign is a good thing, right?

See you later!