seven

september 04, 2006

I Steal Hotel Pens

A good chunk of the holiday weekend finds me once again in Denver, CO. My
holiday may be over, but traveling cross-country for work has just begun. I am
quite happy to report that this trip to Denver ended injury-free. No incidents
of flying 30 pound umbrellas crashing into my skull. Instead, I flopped around
my hotel room in a fluffy white robe while ordering over-priced 3 course meals
from room service. Yes, i do get paid for this.

Before one is overwrought with jealousy, it is important to note that next week
I will be staying in some flea bag motel in South Carolina, and mostly likely
flying next to the sheep in steerage.

On my way to the hotel, I waved to the hospital that treated me so kindly. For
my seminar, I returned to the same Corner Bakery, that was the scene of my
accident, to purchase my very favorite cinnamon creme cake. I couldn't help but
giggle because umbrellas were nowhere to be found. I mean anywhere. Even in the
storage room.

My training was quite successful, and I even had a few moments to spare to soak
in some Downtown Denver culture. I never noticed before, but several eating
establishments actually have signs in the widnow that say "No firearms allowed
on premises". I assume that this must have been some sort of pressing problem in
the past.

My stay in Denver was only overnight, so I was back to the airport rather
quickly. Flying is just not fun anymore as airport security has become ludicrous
and invasive. Is our safety really in jeopardy if a well-coiffed older woman
carries Chanel Regenerating Serum on board? While waiting in line to have my
rights violated, I couldn't help but be amused by the Department of Homeland
Security's listing of what was not acceptable to bring on a plane.

For example, "No ammunition of any kind or size is to be allowed on board". Was
there ever a time where one could carry bullets freely on flights? Just asking.

My personal favorites are the cartoon renderings of contraband. I just love the
image of a bomb that resembles a bowling ball with a fuse as if today's modern
terrorist has to resort to the Looney Tunes "Acme" catalog of weaponry. Has
anyone ever gone to the security guard and said, "Why yes sir, I do have a bomb
in my suitcase. I almost carried it on board, but luckily I caught notice of
that warning! Whew!".

There are also sketches of poisons, knives and hatchets. Yes, hatchets. The
sketch of the hatchet is much larger than than any of the other questionable
items. Either Jeffrey Dahmer is a frequent flyer or it's quite common to get the
itch to de-bone a chicken at about 35, 000 feet into the air. Who thinks of
these things?

Because of the new regulations and my job that requires me to travel with large
amounts of toothpaste, I can no longer carry on my little suitcase. I'm doomed
to checking in everything. So much for strategic packaging.

I'm not quite sure where I'm going with this, so I'm ending with the confession
that I do steal hotel pens. They are out for the taking, so technically is it
stealing?

                                 september 14, 2006

Wihlemena Loman's Loose Lips

I've already been to five states within the past 10 days, and I will
most likely visit another 10 or so in the coming weeks. Contrary to
popular belief, it's not fun to live out of a suitcase and every day is
not a new, exciting adventure. I'm tired. I'm full of complaints. Rather
than attempt to compose something witty with a plot, I'm listing all my
complaints. Feel free to add your own.

* Why is it $5 for Maxim magazine? Frankly, it's really not that good
that it's worth that much. Although I feel the need to add that on more
than one occasion I've gotten "mad props" for reading it in plain sight.
What's up with that?

* I hate checking luggage and this liquid ban is making traveling
miserable.

* I do not understand the plight of the mall walker.

* How come when I only have minutes to catch a flight I must push and
shove my way to the other side of the terminal, but others in the same
predicament get a personal escort and chauffer driven golf cart to their
gate?

* Please do not shut the airplane window for no apparent reason. There's
no excuse unless it is pitch black or the sun is blinding your vision.
Perhaps someone else might want to see the view.

* In every airport I have been to there's always a TCBY frozen yogurt
kiosk. Always. I'm talking even in Zanzibar. Usually this is something I
notice but do not indulge in. North Carolina wore me down, and I happend
to get the white chocolate mousse with wet walnuts. Next to the Boston
cream pie from Cold Stone this is heaven in a cup! I love it and want
more of it. In every airport since that fateful trip to North Carolina,
I have not come across a TCBY. There is nothing sadder (or cuter?) than
a grown ass woman running up and down the airport terminal practically
on the verge of a full blown temper tantrum because I cannot find my
TCBY white chocolate mousse with wet walnuts!

* How come every time I go to Starbucks and order a small coffee, the
"barista" always snottily replies "Did you mean tall?" No, I meant
small. I will not fall prey to that stupid lingo.

* One treadmill in a hotel does not equal a "fully equipped fitness
center".

* Why is it that every time I get into a cab the driver is either a
right-wing, gun toting, Iraqi war supporting conspiracy theorist or
someone who really wants to tell me their entire detailed life story
starting from the moment after conception, or they look eerily like
Chuck Norris.

* When on a plane whenever the pilot announces a point of interest, I'm
always sitting on the opposite side of the plane.

* How is it possible to be on a long haul flight with at least 100
poeple, yet when it comes time to follow them to the correct baggage
carousel I cannot recognize a single face?

* Why do all hotel hallways resemble something from "The Shining"?

                    september 24,2006

The Costa Rican Dream

I have a plan. A good one too. My friend Steve and I are going to run
away to Costa Rica and open a brothel. Why? Well, I need to retire.
This face is destined for bigger and brighter things. Toothpaste is a
bore. Slaving away all day on myspace while pretending to be
productive in the office is just tedious. It's killing my braincells.
Quite frankly, I'd like to hold on to the two I have left.

The original plan was to live in a tree house and spend our days on
the beach doing absolutely nothing. Things change and I'm kicking it
up a notch to make a little name for ourselves and a quick buck. I
read GQ. I read Maxim. I know the deal. Prostitution is alive and
thriving in Costa Rica. Any age, shape, or color is available in the
back of the cantina for under a peso. When a guy tells you he's dying
to go to San Jose, trust me it's not for the rain forest. It's for the
chicas man. Chicas.

Why not put a little fun in retirement and have a little piece of the
pie at the same time. Simply put, this is a no-brainer. There's no way
we can fail. Steve works in a porn shop and I religiously watch "Cat
House" and "Hookers at the Point". He'll be the Pimp and I'll be the
Madam. We'll even dress the part. Where Heidi Fleiss failed we will
succeed. It's Bunny Ranch glory or bust! We're talking franchise!

I've got it all figured out. We'll create our own working girl
superstars that will put Air Force Amy to shame.We'll cater to
everyone! You want rough- looking, been there and done that skanks? We
got em. You want the high roller "Charlie Sheen" experience and spring
for the clean $2000 a night girls that will dress up as a
cheerleaders. We got those too. We'll even throw in 500 thread count
Pratesi sheets. We won't leave out the ladies either. We'll import the
finest testerone that Costa Rica has to offer. We're in the
hospitality business you know. Aim to please.

Just don't expect a discount. We won't care if you just came back from
Iraq, led some sort of political movement, or some pitiful 40 year old
virgin. If you bore us with these details, expect to pay double. Give
me attitude and the price then triples. It's not being difficult. It's
being practical like Seinfeld's "Soup Nazi".

september 25, 2006

No Migas Milagro

The hunt for the elusive migas is over. Migas is an undergound Texan
delicacy and a popular favorite among the young and hungover. The cult
of migas received national notoriety in the New York Times magazine
section about two years ago. This "anything goes" scrambled eggs and
tortilla chips dish was described in full mouthwatering detail in the
Times special feature about regional specialities across America.

It's not an expensive dish nor does it require any special culinary
preparation. Ever since reading that article, migas has become my "white
whale" of gastronomic treats. Sure, the article came with the recipe.
Yes, the recipe is basically to scramble eggs and throw in some tortilla
chips and whatever else is lying in the fridge from last night. That is
not the same! It's not authentic. I want my migas prepared in some local
Austin greasy spoon by a cook with a hairnet who may or may not have
washed his hands before coming to work. That's the kind of migas I
crave. The real deal.

Last year much like this year, the evil job sent me toTexas. There was
work to be done, but the ultimate goal was to sample this mysterious
migas. In Dallas, I went to a coffee shop for breakfast. The restaurant
was too clean and generic for me to even fathom that they would have
migas on the menu. However, right underneath the specials, migas was
listed. But I was feeling pancakes that day. I rationalized these
weren't the authentic migas I so desired, and went for the pancakes
instead. Surely there will be plenty of other migas opportunities
throughout my Texas travels.

HA! God mocks me so.

From Dallas to McAllen to Houston to San Antonio migas was not to be
found. Austin would be my last hope. I want migas and only the best will
do! Google lists my options and Auntie Maudes's Too is the clear winner
because it is the best. Not only the best but the very best. There's a
catch though. My Sunday meeting is at 10AM and Auntie Maude's Too is
completely on the opposite side of town. In order to enjoy the migas I
would have to get up super early and run all over town. The choice was
migas or sleep. I chose sleep and have always regretted it.

It's a year later, and once again I'm in Texas. This time I am not going
home without tasting these fucking migas! I arrive in Austin and am
horrified to learn that Auntie Maude's Too no longer exists. The
Magnolia Cafe is the runner up, and I embark on my Sunday afternoon
migas adventure. Unfortunately, it's not as easy as one might think.

See, I truly am my mother's daughter, and I have absolutely no sense of
direction. North, East, South - this means nothing to me. My natural
instinct always leads me in the completely opposite direction to where I
should be headed. Always. Even though I used MapQuest and the directions
to Magnolia Cafe were so straight forward even I couldn't get lost, the
mysterious Lake Austin Blvd was nowhere to be found. I kicked myself for
not going to Magnolia Cafe South which was way closer to my hotel. Since
I was starving and about two miles away from the other Magnolia Cafe, I
conceded that perhaps me and migas were not meant to be. I'll just eat
at the first decent place that pops up.

My hunger led me to this shack of a TexMex place called El Arroyo. I
slumped over to a table and looked over the menu. Just as I thought. No
migas. Hmmph! I flipped over to the back of the menu and listed
underneath the brunch specials was migas. In two different varieties no
less! Another catch. Migas is only served until 3pm and the time was
2:55pm. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and I may have to
whip out the tourist card.

Hurrah! It's a migas miracle! The perky waitress said that migas was
still available, and then we debated whether I should be a purist or
spring for the fajita and migas. I ordered it O.G. style... The way
migas was meant to be done. I anxiously await for that yummy goodness
arrive. Migas for me! Finally!

The plate is set before me, and smack in the middle are my glorious
migas as well as hash browns, spicy green beans with chile sauce, and
some applesauce spread wrapped into a tortilla. Not to be a food snob or
anything, but these migas looked like some soupy curds and weigh like it
was straight from Miss Muffet's kitchen. Were these eggs even fully
cooked? The Times article did mention that migas weren't much to look at
since it was all about the flavor. I picked up my fork and dug in
happily. At long last migas!

After a few bites, I tried to convince myself that this was the greatest
dish ever invented. I was not that convincing. The eggs had the
consistency of phlegm. The tortilla chips were so limp it was
practically mush not to mention tasteless. There might have been cheese
and chiles mixed in, but they were just as tasteless and colorless. I
was simply crushed. How could this be the dish I have been waiting years
to taste? Oh the disappointment!

I rationalize once again that obviously El Arroyo does not specialize in
the fine art that is migas. Perhaps I should give migas a second chance?
For dinner, I manage to locate the Magnolia Cafe South. Migas is on the
menu, but I just can't bring myself to order it again. I just can't do
it! My world will be beyond shattered if it's just as bad for a second
time. Instead, I go for the blueberry pancakes. Luckily, they were the
best blueberry pancakes ever!

october 4, 2006

Everything I learned about love is from Leonardo DiCaprio

Ever since spotting a young DiCaprio on an episode of Growing Pains, I
knew that boy had something. I told myself, "Self, you watch. That boy is
going to be a superstar." And sure enough he was. I quickly realized that
much like my other pre-adolescent fantasy Kirk Cameron, Leo and I would
never meet. This does not sadden me because after purchasing this month's
Details with Leo gracing the cover, I realize that both the on and off
screen versions have taught me invaluable lessons about love and
relationships. Meeting him would just spoil the legend.

First of all, Leo was the romantic lead in Titanic. His witty charm and
boyish good looks managed to seduce a young and zaftig Kate Winslet.
Rather than marrying her wealthy yet mean spirited fiance, Kate chose to
persue a new life of hot sex in a log cabin while living life as a pauper
with Leo. It's a shame that iceberg got in the way. Even though Leo died
tragically and I sobbed like a five year old that lost her Hello Kitty
pen, Leo ulitmately had the last laugh. No man could ever compete with
the ghost of Leo for Kate Winslet's affection. She would either have to
go through life alone or settle for someone else who couldn't quite hold
a candle to our star. Oh, someone might come close. But to even compete
that person would not sacrifice their own life for hers. For that gesture
alone Leo would always be "The One". Brilliant!

If anything Leo has taught me the importance of dating Brazilians
exclusively. I have yet to follow this advice, but I have been to Brazil
and have flirted with my fair share of cariocas. Brazilians, as a rule,
are good looking with great bodies. They are quite laidback and relaxed
and generally never on time. Plus they love to drink. I love caipirhinas!
Never doubt Mr. DiCaprio's wisdom.

Leo chose "The Beach" as his follow up to "Titanic". Although this is not
my favorite movie, many important life lessons can be learned from it.
Most importantly, don't bother with Phuket. If one has the opportunity to
live on a commune with hot guys and girls in an uncharted paradise island
that has an unlimited supply of pot...Go for it! If there is a female
power hungry, tyrannical leader, it is important to seduce her as quickly
as possible and convince her to run things "the Leo" way. The secret is
to never let on that this is your intention. The leader must think it is
her own idea and eventually suffer her demise. Quiet power is the
ultimate power.

It is also very important to sleep with your best friend's girlfriend. If
this fellow is a real friend, the friendship will only be solidified by
the betrayal. Obviously if the girl succumbed to Leo's advances in the
first place, she did not truly love the best friend, and should be
exposed as a fraud. This is actually saving Leo's best friend from future
heartache. With Leo, it is important to put friends before love. I'm not
sure if any of this actually occured the movie, but in my version it did.
Sage wisdom once again by Leo DiCaprio.

Thanks to "The Basketball Diaries" Leo also taught me that nice girls
should not date skinny white, abcess-covered, heroin addicts that
associate with Mark Wahlberg. Drug addicts do not make for good
boyfriends. They steal your money, your jewelry, and never take you out
for dinner. A lesson I learned the hard way.

So now you're thinking, "Well if I starred in international blockbuster
movies the ladies would be dying for me too". Not true. Look at Ben
Affleck. No one wants him. These days it's all about lifestyle, and no
one lives it better than our golden boy. Sinatra hit the town with the
Rat Pack. Leo parties "pussy posse" style.

When not cavorting with Brazilian supersmodels, Leo and his famous
friends are on the prowl to see who can score the most pussy. Sure, it
sounds crass and vulgar, but the genius is in the simplicity. See any
skank famewhore looking to add a notch to her belt or to sell her story
to InTouch could try to have her way with Leo. No one turns down free
sex, but she'll never really have him. As Tupac says "...I don't want it
if it's that easy".

In order for Leo to find a lasting love, he's got to sort through the
muck and the mire so to speak. The one that puts up a challenge and
demands to be courted is probably the person he'll live happily ever
after with. Leo knows this. By frequently flaunting his antics on Page
Six, he's trying to share his wisdom with the rest of the world. He is an
enlightened being, that DiCaprio.

Next time you feel a relationship dilemma coming on. Take a moment to ask
yourself, "What could I learn from Leonardo DiCaprio?" If you really give
it some thought, he's got all the answers about the game of love. That's
why Leo's the man.

Coming Soon..."Everything I learned about pain and suffering is from Miss
Piggy"

october 06, 2006

2nd Annual Carmen San Diego Awards

Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the second annual Carmen San
Diego Awards honoring the best and worst of my month long travels
across the United States. This highly prestigious and biased award
is a coveted honor. The winners will not receive ramen noodles, a
plaque, or whatever else I may have promised the past survey
winners. The honor and publicity comes from seeing your name or
establishment in print.

Best Hotel Award: (tie)

Sheraton Clayton Plaza (St. Louis, MO) - nothing but upgrades and
free stuff. It's nice to be treated like the mayor of St. Louis.

Westin La Cantera (San Antonio, TX) - I cannot argue with Travel &
Leisure's recommendation for one of the best places to stay plus I
got a free facial

Worst Hotel: Jupiter Hotel (Portland, OR) - Unless you are Axle
Rose circa 1989 stay away. The housekeeper didn't even bother to
show up until 5pm, and wouldn't come back in an hour when I told
her I had to take an important call.

Best Overheard Conversation: (Lower Haight, San Francisco) "Would
you like a drink?" said the alcolholic derelict to the raggedy
beatnik. "No, but would you like to hear my poem?" responded said
beatnik.

Best Bed: 4 Points Sheraton (Oakland, CA) - The most comofrtably
delicious bed ever. All beds should be modeled after this one.

Best Rambling by a Rambling Crackwhore: (Lower Haight, San
Francisco) "Catch a pot of gold! At the end of the rainbow you'll
find my pussy" (must be said in a sing-song manner to appreciate
the humor)

Worst Local Culinary Delicacy: (Austin, TX) Migas! I'm speechless
with disappointment. Please read previous blog for full
description.

Hall of Fame *Best Culinary Delight: (New Orleans, LA) Cafe au
lait and beignets from the Cafe Du Monde. I am so fond of the Cafe
Du Monde!

Best Authentic Creole Restaurant: Oliviers (New Orleans) A happy
belated birthday to my waiter Slay, the creole cuisine
authenticator. Listen to him when he says the rabbit is bony. He
knows is stuff. The bread pudding is amazingly good!

Dullest Place in America: Omaha, NE

Worst Representation of Southern California: Monrovia. It's like
Echo Park but not even as cute.

Best Cab Drivers: (tie)

A.G. (Charlotte, NC) counts Bono as a close personal friend.

Gary (Milwaukee, MI) An all-round nice guy.

Marko (Scottsdale, AZ) Borat's Serbian cousin. Absolutely
hysterical.

Mind Your Business Award: goes to every cab driver, hotel worker,
cleaning person, TSA person that feels the need to give me their
$.2 about whether or not me that my suitcase is too heavy, what I
can or can't take on the plane, and of course, that I can't go to
the mall at 8am. In each and every case these people were wrong.
Mind your business!

Worst flight: American 1712 (Omaha-Chicago)- A screaming toddler
sitting right behind me from takeoff to landing.

Best Flight: (San Antonio to Phoenix) upgraded to first class!

So Close yet So far Away Award: After an the requisite additional
7 consecutive visits, The Starwood Preferred Member program still
says I'm one stay away from being a gold member.

Best TV Show to Watch at 2AM When You can't Sleep: TLC
documentaries on deformed kids. Primordial dwarfism, porgeria, 2
headed conjoined twins, and the girl whose skin is so dehydrated
she has to slather on 26 pounds of lotion each week. So
fascinating and horrifying I love it! Give me the all deformed kid
channel.

Worst Impostor for Good Ice Cream: Marble Slab Creamery is NOT
Cold Stone Creamery. Do not settle for cheap imitations and it is
a cheap imitation.

Yoga Master Award: (Scottsdale, AZ) Matt Hodges from At One Yoga.
Another yogi wunderkind.

Best Day Ever Award: Miss Gina and I driving to Napa Valley and
going champagne and wine tasting. We are decadent girls.