Wednesday, June 30, 2004
At last, your recap has come along. I hope it was worth the wait. As for pictures...well, you'll have to wait a few more days for those. I'm hoping to have them up by Friday, so just be patient. (Heather, this means you.)
And now, without further ado, I proudly present...
Clare & Bri's Excellent Adventure: The (Almost) Complete Recap
Prologue: Birmingham, Alabama to Memphis, Tennessee
Technically, this was the first day of our journey. But I don't really count it because I spent most of the day waiting for Bri to get to Birmingham to pick me up. Plus, since we grew up only a few hours away from Memphis (and I have family who actually live there), visiting the city was pretty anti-climactic for both of us. We'd both already done the touristy stuff, like Beale Street and Graceland, so we decided to skip that in favor of meeting my aunt and cousin for dinner and getting a good night's sleep (our last--or at least my last--for a long, long time). I mention this leg only because there were a couple of things that occurred that resurfaced during the rest of our journey. First, Bri swears she saw a sign somewhere in eastern Alabama or western Mississippi that said "Jesus is comming." We adopted the amended "Jesus is comming--dot-comming, that is!" as one of our mottos for the trip. Also, this may or may not have been the first time we decided to listen to one of her Britney Spears CDs. Little did we know that, over the course of the next week, we would listen to so much Britney Spears that she would not only become our symbolic traveling companion, but we would also actually write Brit's next hit (an upbeat pop number entitled "Moderately Warm"). But more (much more) about Britney later.
Day One: Memphis, Tennessee to Clinton, Oklahoma
Our first stop of the day was an unexpected detour. Driving through western Arkansas, we spotted an exit for Altus, which we immediately recognized as the home of the original Simple Life. As die-hard reality TV fans, we simply couldn't pass up this opportunity. Besides, we needed gas. (Really, we did.) We headed downtown, where we played on a playground in the park where Paris and Nicole had their infamous kissing booth at the town carnival. We then walked down the downtown strip (featured in the credits) and saw the bar where Nicole poured bleach on the pool table. We stopped by the city hall to get a map so we could attempt to find Buffy's Lakeside Food Mart, the gas station where the girls worked. After a brief conversation with one of the locals about the show (and after Bri bumped into a fake street sign covered with Mardi Gras beads and feather boas that said "Paris Hilton Blvd." and "Nicole Richie Ave."), we set out in search of Buffy's. Finally, on our way out of town, we happened upon it and stopped there to get gas. Sadly, Buffy himself must have taken the day off, as we did not see him--but we did see shirts with his picture and trademark slogan ("Good Lord!") on them, which he had autographed with a sharpie. Somehow we were able to pass up this priceless souvenir.
While waiting for Bri to use the bathroom at Buffy's, I picked up an abandoned copy of the local paper, which proved to be a very wise move indeed, as it provided us with hours of entertainment while driving through the rest of Arkansas and Oklahoma (and again when we got to Chase's and shared the paper with him). Here were some of our favorite tidbits (and please, just assume the [sic] every time you see an error):
From the "Kay's Corner" column:
"Ruby Overbey called me Friday night. She read in my column that I had been to see her. She said she was gone for a drive with her children."
From the "Hickory Grove" column:
"We had a good turnout on Friday night at the rabies clinic. There were 25 dogs and one cat. I talked to a few people who forgot to bring their pets."
From the "Senior Moments" column:
"On talks shows like Doctor Phil or Oprah they use the term sibling rivalry a lot. I never knew what that meant for a while, then I figured out that sibling means the offspring of someone like a brother or sister and rivalry means at odds with someone. I guess my brother and I would have been good talk show material because we were the siblings of Mom and Dad..."
I could go on for quite a while in this vein. But you get the picture.
Anyway, after we left Altus, we pretty much drove straight through Oklahoma, stopping briefly at the Oklahoma welcome center to be welcomed and pick up some literature. We had already decided to stop for lunch/dinner in El Reno, just past Oklahoma City, because it featured several authentic Route 66 restaurants recommended by our handy Route 66 Dining and Lodging Guide (or, as it came to be known, the D&LG). We didn't really eat much during the day, subsisting on the cookies I had made prior to our journey, so we were starving by the time we got to El Reno. We stopped at Sid's, a tiny, darling little diner, and sampled the local specialty, the onion burger. The onion burger is basically just a hamburger with grilled onions on top, but the small-town Oklahomans seem to feel that this is an ingenious invention, judging by the many signs we passed advertising the onion burger. I personally feel that the onion burger really didn't take a lot of creativity to invent, but it was yummy nonetheless.
After dinner, we traveled on a bit of Old 66 on our way to Clinton to keep the authenticity vibe going. After we checked into our hotel in Clinton (a Best Western chosen because Elvis once stayed there), we headed to the local park to play a quick round at the Route 66 mini golf course. (It was neck and neck for a while, but I eventually pulled ahead to an overwhelming lead.) After mini golf, we stopped by Sonic for a frosty treat before retiring to our room for the much-anticipated Simpson Extravaganza, i.e. the back-to-back premieres of Newlyweds and The Ashlee Simpson show. Ah, there's nothing better than a cherry limeade flurry and the Simpson sisters at the end of a long day.
Day Two: Clinton, Oklahoma to Albuquerque, New Mexico
Our day started out with a bit of excitement when Bri lost her wallet at the Route 66 Museum in Elk City and we ransacked the car looking for it. Fortunately, she found it in the museum gift shop, where she'd left it after buying postcards. After a quick trip by the Dollar Store, we were off.
Most of our adventures this day took place in Texas. The first point of interest was the Bug Ranch, which is a somewhat poor imitation of the Cadillac Ranch down the road. But we stopped anyway and left our mark on one of the VW Bugs in ballpoint pen. (We were ill-prepared, obviously.)
The next two attractions on our path were both in Groom, Texas. First, the Leaning Tower of Texas, a water tower that is pitching to one side. Unlike the Leaning Tower of Pisa, however, it is not an optical illusion. You can actually see half of the water tower sticking out of the ground. Scary. Needless to say, we beat a hasty retreat from the Leaning Tower.
The next stop was what is billed as the World's Tallest Cross. I have my doubts about this, as the cross is pretty much identical to the really big cross in Effingham, Illinois, that we saw on the way to Adrian's wedding. Now, I can't say that I've ever actually measured either of these crosses, so I can't really say if they are exactly the same size. But they certainly look like it. Perhaps the Texans think they're far enough away from Illinois that they can get away with calling their cross the world's tallest and no one will say anything. I feel this merits further investigation.
After all this excitement, it was time for lunch at the Big Texan Steakhouse in Amarillo, which is famous for giving away a free 72-ounce steak to anyone who can finish it. Bri and I weren't even about to attempt it (which is a good thing, since we couldn't even finish our regular entrees), but we did hang around the restaurant for quite awhile just to see if anyone would try it while we were there. Sadly, no one did.
Just outside of Amarillo, we made our final tourist stop of the day at the Cadillac Ranch. Our visit started off on a bad note when we were pelted with a dust storm on our way out to see the cars. Then, when attempting to take a self-timer picture of us with our graffiti (some people gave us the rest of their spray paint, so we didn't have to rely on the ballpoint this time), my digital camera fell off the wheel of a Cadillac, and the zoom lens got knocked all out of whack. I was sure I'd damaged it beyond repair, but Bri was able to wrench it back into place. (However, the fall did somehow render the video function unworkable, but since I never really used it that much anyway, I'm not too upset.)
We drove pretty much straight through to Alberquerque (not counting the requisite stop at the New Mexico welcome center), where we stayed at the cutest motel ever. Seriously. The interior of our room looked like someone's house. Plus, they had a really wonderful heated pool, which was very welcome, since our luck with pools had heretofore been pretty bad. (The one in Memphis was being re-chlorinated, and the one in Oklahoma didn't have water in it.) After a quick swim, we headed out for a night on the town. We got a drink at one of the trendy downtown bars, where we sat on the patio and observed the curious sartorial choices of the Albuquerque natives. (Let's just say that visibile-thong-with-jeans look really doesn't work for some people.) We were pretty tired, so we headed back to the car after just one drink.
But...on the way back to the car, I spotted a bar marquee advertising karaoke night. We simply couldn't pass it up. I mean, what could be more classic road trip than going into some local hole-in-the-wall bar and singing karaoke? Of course, in the fantasy, you'd sing some great classic rock song by Tom Petty or Fleetwood Mac or similar. But this was Bri and me, so we chose to sing "Lucky" by Britney Spears. We figured that after three days of practice, we were ready. We also figured that if you're going to sing a Britney Spears song in a gritty bar, you'd better be ready to make a quick exit. So, after our brilliantly inspired performance of "Lucky," we threw down our microphones and ran out of the bar, despite the thunderous applause we received. (I guess even the toughest barflies need a little Britney now and then.) As we flew through the front door, we heard the karaoke guy say, "I guess they were shy." Yeah, something like that.
Day Three: Albuquerque, New Mexico to Flagstaff, Arizona
Sadly, we bid our cute little motel good-bye and headed for Arizona. We stopped in the middle of the day at Gallup, where we went to the gift shop at the El Rancho hotel (the hotel of choice for old movie stars who were filming in the desert) to continue our search for big-letter postcards. We sampled some of the local cuisine for lunch in the form of Navajo tacos, which were tasty (mmm, fry bread), yet surprisingly bland.
Pretty soon, we crossed the border into Arizona, where our real adventures of the day began. After the standard welcome-center stop, our first destination was the Painted Desert and Petrified Forest National Park. It it a true testament to the sheer amount of Britney Spears we had listened to that the first thing Bri said upon viewing the Painted Desert was, "This looks just like the video for 'Not a Girl, Not Yet a Woman'!" Naturally, my response was, "I was just thinking the same thing!" With Britney in the stereo, we cruised around the park, stopping every so often to take pictures, only some of which involved us pretending to be Britney Spears in the "Not a Girl" video.
The natural beauty out of the way, it was time for more kitschy tourist stops--including the famous "corner" in Winslow, Arizona. To set the mood, we put in The Eagles' "Take It Easy" as we cruised through town. And--I am not making this up--the "standing on the corner" line came on right as we pulled up to the actual corner. We screamed, then hopped out of the car for a quick photo op. After a stop at the local Sonic for another frosty treat, we were back on the road to our next destination.
Which was the Jackrabbit Trading Post, a famous Route 66 icon. There, we stocked up on souvenirs for the family and more big-letter postcards. We also took some time to climb on the big plastic jackrabbit outside.
After the Jackrabbit, we were headed for Flagstaff, our stopping point for the night. We began going through our travel guides to try and find a motel. Unfortunately, our luck wasn't quite as good as it was in Alberquerque, and we still didn't have a place to stay by the time we reached Flagstaff. We checked at a Best Western right off the highway, but it was going to be $99--and we were trying to be frugal since our next night's stay would be in Vegas. We decided to keep looking.
For some reason, still unbeknownst to me, we decided to stop at the very next motel we saw--the Carousel Inn. The strong smell of curry at the reception desk didn't daunt us, but the fact that said desk was behind a glass window should have. As we passed several shady characters on the way to our room, I began to have second thoughts about our choice of motels. The fact that the flimsy door didn't have a deadbolt was the last straw--we absolutely could not stay there. So we headed back to the reception, where I made Bri tell the nice Indian couple working there that we had decided to drive on and wouldn't need the room after all. Fortunately, we were able to get our money back.
We decided that it would probably be wise to stick with chain hotels in the future, unless the non-chain hotels were recommended by our guidebooks. We settled on a Travelodge right down the street that was not fancy but at least had a deadbolt on the door. Exhausted from driving through the desert and shaken by the debacle at the Carousel Inn, we opted to go for a quick swim, then order in pizza and watch the WB Friday night lineup.
Day Four: Flagstaff, Arizona to Las Vegas, Nevada
We awoke to a much better day in Flagstaff. First, From Justin to Kelly was playing on HBO, so we watched it as we got ready. Man, I thought Britney Spears' Crossroads was a cinematic masterpiece, but From Justin to Kelly really just blows it out of the water. It has everything you could want in a movie--really bad accents, spontaneous musical numbers, whipped--cream bikinis. Sadly, we had to leave before the movie was over, as we were due for breakfast in downtown Flagstaff before heading up to the Grand Canyon.
It was in downtown that I fell in love with Flagstaff. The downtown is just so adorable. It kind of reminded me of downtown Columbia, only more earthy-crunchy. We stopped at a local coffee shop for chai and baked goods, then went to the outdoors store next door so Bri could buy a new water bottle. After another quick stop at Wal-Mart (my ingenious idea for getting cash without having to pay an ATM fee), we set off for the GC.
We decided to take the route that would lead us through the Navajo Indian reservation, which meant many, many stops at the jewelry stands along the way. Still, even with all the stops, this was a wise decision, as we hardly had to wait at all at the entrance station (whereas the line at the other entrance station, we noticed on our way out, was at least a mile long).
The Grand Canyon was...well, grand, but our time there almost ended in disaster. I had a bad habit of wanting to jump the fences at the different stopping points to get the view off the beaten path, which was totally worth it. (You'd be surprised what a buzzkill those little fences are.) Anyway, I also had a bad habit of goofing off, which you really shouldn't do when you're standing on the edge of a cliff. At one spot, I wanted Bri to take a picture of me standing right on the edge of the canyon. To get a laugh, I pretended like I was falling backwards into the canyon. Only Bri didn't laugh...and when I stopped goofing around and peered over the edge of the cliff, I saw why--it was a sheer drop of at least 100 feet. One gust of wind and I would have been...well, let's just say I wouldn't have been blogging anymore. From then on, our motto was "No shenanigans!" and we managed to make it out of the Grand Canyon alive.
Our next planned stop was in Seligman, Arizona, for lunch/dinner at the famous Sno Cap Drive-In (another Route 66 icon), but when we arrived, we learned that the Sno Cap was temporarily closed because the owner (himself a Route 66 icon) had recently died of a heart attack. So we had to settle for just taking a couple of pictures and heading down the road for dinner with the bikers at the Roadkill Café.
After a surprisingly good meal, we were headed north again, this time to Vegas, by way of Hoover Dam. The dam was pretty impressive, but I think the impressiveness might have been stilted just a bit by the fact that we had been at the Grand Canyon only hours earlier. And by the fact that we couldn't really get a good view of it because the observation deck was closed by the time we got there.
After checking into our hotel in Vegas, we went for a quick (very quick) swim in the hotel's "heated" pool, which was very definitely not heated. We then headed back to the room to get gussied up for our night out on the town and soon learned that the only "going out" outfit we had each brought was a black T-shirt and jeans (or a jean skirt, in my case). However, we opted not to change because, as Bri pointed out, "I'm sure two girls wearing the same thing is not the strangest thing that's ever happened in Vegas."
Attired in our matching outfits, we headed for the Strip, where we quickly figured out the secret to Las Vegas: Buy drinks in the sketchy casinos with the cheap-drink specials and, since there are no open-container laws, carry them around to the nicer casinos. I must say, it's quite liberating to be able to walk down the street with a beer. It made me feel like I was in New Orleans. Or, since I've never actually been to New Orleans, it made me feel like I was on an MTV show where they go to New Orleans.
We walked around the strip for a few hours, taking in all the sights--the musical fountain at the Bellagio, fliers for hookers, etc.--then called it a night after a very, very long day.
Day Five: Las Vegas, Nevada to Los Angeles, California
The day started out with a lot of procrastinating, mostly because we were a bit nervous about driving across the Mojave desert. First we called Bri's dad and asked him a lot of questions about her car. Then we stopped at an auto parts store to buy some extra coolant, just in case. Then we stopped at Panera for brunch. Then we stopped at Wal-Mart to buy lots of water and snacks, just in case we got stranded in the desert.
We didn't get stranded, but I'm very glad we bought those snacks--otherwise, we might have starved, because there's pretty much nothing out there between Las Vegas and Palm Springs. Plus, we decided to take the scenic, off-highway route, which meant there was really nothing.
Our only extended stop of the day was at Joshua Tree National Park, which was a strange experience. First, there was no one at the entrance to collect our entrance fee. Considering how heavily guarded all the other national parks had been, this seemed odd. But we pressed on. However, Bri then started thinking about Charles Manson and became convinced that we were going to be murdered by homicidal hippies. Perhaps it was the strain of the desert taking its toll, but I began to get freaked out as well. We stayed just long enough to snap a few pictures, then got the hell out of there, desperate for the civilization of Los Angeles.
Of course, by the time we actually got back to civilization, we were exhausted, sweaty, road-weary, hungry, bitchy and delirious. And on our way to see Chase, who I'm sure would not have appreciated us showing up at his door in such a state. Therefore, we thought it best to get something substantial to eat before we went to his house to try and improve our state at least somewhat. Wanting to get something fast, yet still wanting to sample some local flavor, we decided to eat at In & Out Burger.
One problem: California, unlike every other state in the freaking country, does not number its exits, nor does it have those nifty little signs telling you what restaurants are at each exits. Consequently, by the time you see a place where you'd like to stop, you've already passed the exit. And so our cursing of California began.
However, we were able to navigate our way to the In & Out Burger without too much trouble and got some much-needed food and time out of the car. A short while later, we arrived at our (or at least my) final destination, Chase's apartment. Chase, being the great host he is, offered to take us out for a night on the town. Of course, he'd mentioned my arrival in town to a certain former j-school classmate who also lives in L.A., and she ended up tagging along with us for the evening. (And when I say "tagging along," I of course mean "completely directing our activities.") Chase has begged me for a full recap of the evening, but my fear of Googling prevents me from doing so. I'll just say that not much has changed since college and leave it at that.
Epilogue: Los Angeles, California to Birmingham, Alabama
So, as many of you know (because I told you), the trip was supposed to end in grand fashion with an appearance on The Price Is Right. Unfortunately, this did not happen. They start handing out passes for the show at 8:00, but you can get there as early as 6:00. I figured that as long as we got there by 6:30, we would be OK, but obviously I seriously underestimated the rabid Price Is Right fan. We got in line too late to make it onto the show, but not too late to observe some very, very interesting people. (A comment from Chase sums it up perfectly: "I wonder how many of these people are named Wanda.")
We were disappointed that we wouldn't be getting to see Bob Barker, so, to cheer us up, Chase took us to one of his favorite celebrity-sighting restaurants for brunch. Of course, it was our luck that this was the one day that no celebrities decided to eat there (although I did see a guy that looked an awful lot like Jim Walsh from 90210 at the next table).
My only requests for the rest of the day were that we see the Hollywood sign (which I did not see the last time I was in L.A.) and go to the beach (because it just seemed wrong to drive all the way across the country and not even see the ocean). After we accomplished these goals, the rest of the time in L.A. was pretty low-key, spent napping, eating, watching episodes of Felicity (with the audio commentary on, which I warn should only be attempted if you are as die-hard a fan of the show as Chase and I are, and even then undertaken with extreme caution) and tempting ourselves at IKEA and Urban Outfitters (but I am happy to report that we were very good and did not buy anything).
The next morning, at an hour too ungodly to even mention, Chase drove me to LAX (because that's how good a friend he is, although he did let me know that, for future reference, there's another airport about five minutes from his house), where I caught a flight back to Birmingham. And then I slept. And slept. And slept some more. One of these days, I'm hoping to finally be caught up on my sleep.
The End
And now, without further ado, I proudly present...
Clare & Bri's Excellent Adventure: The (Almost) Complete Recap
Prologue: Birmingham, Alabama to Memphis, Tennessee
Technically, this was the first day of our journey. But I don't really count it because I spent most of the day waiting for Bri to get to Birmingham to pick me up. Plus, since we grew up only a few hours away from Memphis (and I have family who actually live there), visiting the city was pretty anti-climactic for both of us. We'd both already done the touristy stuff, like Beale Street and Graceland, so we decided to skip that in favor of meeting my aunt and cousin for dinner and getting a good night's sleep (our last--or at least my last--for a long, long time). I mention this leg only because there were a couple of things that occurred that resurfaced during the rest of our journey. First, Bri swears she saw a sign somewhere in eastern Alabama or western Mississippi that said "Jesus is comming." We adopted the amended "Jesus is comming--dot-comming, that is!" as one of our mottos for the trip. Also, this may or may not have been the first time we decided to listen to one of her Britney Spears CDs. Little did we know that, over the course of the next week, we would listen to so much Britney Spears that she would not only become our symbolic traveling companion, but we would also actually write Brit's next hit (an upbeat pop number entitled "Moderately Warm"). But more (much more) about Britney later.
Day One: Memphis, Tennessee to Clinton, Oklahoma
Our first stop of the day was an unexpected detour. Driving through western Arkansas, we spotted an exit for Altus, which we immediately recognized as the home of the original Simple Life. As die-hard reality TV fans, we simply couldn't pass up this opportunity. Besides, we needed gas. (Really, we did.) We headed downtown, where we played on a playground in the park where Paris and Nicole had their infamous kissing booth at the town carnival. We then walked down the downtown strip (featured in the credits) and saw the bar where Nicole poured bleach on the pool table. We stopped by the city hall to get a map so we could attempt to find Buffy's Lakeside Food Mart, the gas station where the girls worked. After a brief conversation with one of the locals about the show (and after Bri bumped into a fake street sign covered with Mardi Gras beads and feather boas that said "Paris Hilton Blvd." and "Nicole Richie Ave."), we set out in search of Buffy's. Finally, on our way out of town, we happened upon it and stopped there to get gas. Sadly, Buffy himself must have taken the day off, as we did not see him--but we did see shirts with his picture and trademark slogan ("Good Lord!") on them, which he had autographed with a sharpie. Somehow we were able to pass up this priceless souvenir.
While waiting for Bri to use the bathroom at Buffy's, I picked up an abandoned copy of the local paper, which proved to be a very wise move indeed, as it provided us with hours of entertainment while driving through the rest of Arkansas and Oklahoma (and again when we got to Chase's and shared the paper with him). Here were some of our favorite tidbits (and please, just assume the [sic] every time you see an error):
From the "Kay's Corner" column:
"Ruby Overbey called me Friday night. She read in my column that I had been to see her. She said she was gone for a drive with her children."
From the "Hickory Grove" column:
"We had a good turnout on Friday night at the rabies clinic. There were 25 dogs and one cat. I talked to a few people who forgot to bring their pets."
From the "Senior Moments" column:
"On talks shows like Doctor Phil or Oprah they use the term sibling rivalry a lot. I never knew what that meant for a while, then I figured out that sibling means the offspring of someone like a brother or sister and rivalry means at odds with someone. I guess my brother and I would have been good talk show material because we were the siblings of Mom and Dad..."
I could go on for quite a while in this vein. But you get the picture.
Anyway, after we left Altus, we pretty much drove straight through Oklahoma, stopping briefly at the Oklahoma welcome center to be welcomed and pick up some literature. We had already decided to stop for lunch/dinner in El Reno, just past Oklahoma City, because it featured several authentic Route 66 restaurants recommended by our handy Route 66 Dining and Lodging Guide (or, as it came to be known, the D&LG). We didn't really eat much during the day, subsisting on the cookies I had made prior to our journey, so we were starving by the time we got to El Reno. We stopped at Sid's, a tiny, darling little diner, and sampled the local specialty, the onion burger. The onion burger is basically just a hamburger with grilled onions on top, but the small-town Oklahomans seem to feel that this is an ingenious invention, judging by the many signs we passed advertising the onion burger. I personally feel that the onion burger really didn't take a lot of creativity to invent, but it was yummy nonetheless.
After dinner, we traveled on a bit of Old 66 on our way to Clinton to keep the authenticity vibe going. After we checked into our hotel in Clinton (a Best Western chosen because Elvis once stayed there), we headed to the local park to play a quick round at the Route 66 mini golf course. (It was neck and neck for a while, but I eventually pulled ahead to an overwhelming lead.) After mini golf, we stopped by Sonic for a frosty treat before retiring to our room for the much-anticipated Simpson Extravaganza, i.e. the back-to-back premieres of Newlyweds and The Ashlee Simpson show. Ah, there's nothing better than a cherry limeade flurry and the Simpson sisters at the end of a long day.
Day Two: Clinton, Oklahoma to Albuquerque, New Mexico
Our day started out with a bit of excitement when Bri lost her wallet at the Route 66 Museum in Elk City and we ransacked the car looking for it. Fortunately, she found it in the museum gift shop, where she'd left it after buying postcards. After a quick trip by the Dollar Store, we were off.
Most of our adventures this day took place in Texas. The first point of interest was the Bug Ranch, which is a somewhat poor imitation of the Cadillac Ranch down the road. But we stopped anyway and left our mark on one of the VW Bugs in ballpoint pen. (We were ill-prepared, obviously.)
The next two attractions on our path were both in Groom, Texas. First, the Leaning Tower of Texas, a water tower that is pitching to one side. Unlike the Leaning Tower of Pisa, however, it is not an optical illusion. You can actually see half of the water tower sticking out of the ground. Scary. Needless to say, we beat a hasty retreat from the Leaning Tower.
The next stop was what is billed as the World's Tallest Cross. I have my doubts about this, as the cross is pretty much identical to the really big cross in Effingham, Illinois, that we saw on the way to Adrian's wedding. Now, I can't say that I've ever actually measured either of these crosses, so I can't really say if they are exactly the same size. But they certainly look like it. Perhaps the Texans think they're far enough away from Illinois that they can get away with calling their cross the world's tallest and no one will say anything. I feel this merits further investigation.
After all this excitement, it was time for lunch at the Big Texan Steakhouse in Amarillo, which is famous for giving away a free 72-ounce steak to anyone who can finish it. Bri and I weren't even about to attempt it (which is a good thing, since we couldn't even finish our regular entrees), but we did hang around the restaurant for quite awhile just to see if anyone would try it while we were there. Sadly, no one did.
Just outside of Amarillo, we made our final tourist stop of the day at the Cadillac Ranch. Our visit started off on a bad note when we were pelted with a dust storm on our way out to see the cars. Then, when attempting to take a self-timer picture of us with our graffiti (some people gave us the rest of their spray paint, so we didn't have to rely on the ballpoint this time), my digital camera fell off the wheel of a Cadillac, and the zoom lens got knocked all out of whack. I was sure I'd damaged it beyond repair, but Bri was able to wrench it back into place. (However, the fall did somehow render the video function unworkable, but since I never really used it that much anyway, I'm not too upset.)
We drove pretty much straight through to Alberquerque (not counting the requisite stop at the New Mexico welcome center), where we stayed at the cutest motel ever. Seriously. The interior of our room looked like someone's house. Plus, they had a really wonderful heated pool, which was very welcome, since our luck with pools had heretofore been pretty bad. (The one in Memphis was being re-chlorinated, and the one in Oklahoma didn't have water in it.) After a quick swim, we headed out for a night on the town. We got a drink at one of the trendy downtown bars, where we sat on the patio and observed the curious sartorial choices of the Albuquerque natives. (Let's just say that visibile-thong-with-jeans look really doesn't work for some people.) We were pretty tired, so we headed back to the car after just one drink.
But...on the way back to the car, I spotted a bar marquee advertising karaoke night. We simply couldn't pass it up. I mean, what could be more classic road trip than going into some local hole-in-the-wall bar and singing karaoke? Of course, in the fantasy, you'd sing some great classic rock song by Tom Petty or Fleetwood Mac or similar. But this was Bri and me, so we chose to sing "Lucky" by Britney Spears. We figured that after three days of practice, we were ready. We also figured that if you're going to sing a Britney Spears song in a gritty bar, you'd better be ready to make a quick exit. So, after our brilliantly inspired performance of "Lucky," we threw down our microphones and ran out of the bar, despite the thunderous applause we received. (I guess even the toughest barflies need a little Britney now and then.) As we flew through the front door, we heard the karaoke guy say, "I guess they were shy." Yeah, something like that.
Day Three: Albuquerque, New Mexico to Flagstaff, Arizona
Sadly, we bid our cute little motel good-bye and headed for Arizona. We stopped in the middle of the day at Gallup, where we went to the gift shop at the El Rancho hotel (the hotel of choice for old movie stars who were filming in the desert) to continue our search for big-letter postcards. We sampled some of the local cuisine for lunch in the form of Navajo tacos, which were tasty (mmm, fry bread), yet surprisingly bland.
Pretty soon, we crossed the border into Arizona, where our real adventures of the day began. After the standard welcome-center stop, our first destination was the Painted Desert and Petrified Forest National Park. It it a true testament to the sheer amount of Britney Spears we had listened to that the first thing Bri said upon viewing the Painted Desert was, "This looks just like the video for 'Not a Girl, Not Yet a Woman'!" Naturally, my response was, "I was just thinking the same thing!" With Britney in the stereo, we cruised around the park, stopping every so often to take pictures, only some of which involved us pretending to be Britney Spears in the "Not a Girl" video.
The natural beauty out of the way, it was time for more kitschy tourist stops--including the famous "corner" in Winslow, Arizona. To set the mood, we put in The Eagles' "Take It Easy" as we cruised through town. And--I am not making this up--the "standing on the corner" line came on right as we pulled up to the actual corner. We screamed, then hopped out of the car for a quick photo op. After a stop at the local Sonic for another frosty treat, we were back on the road to our next destination.
Which was the Jackrabbit Trading Post, a famous Route 66 icon. There, we stocked up on souvenirs for the family and more big-letter postcards. We also took some time to climb on the big plastic jackrabbit outside.
After the Jackrabbit, we were headed for Flagstaff, our stopping point for the night. We began going through our travel guides to try and find a motel. Unfortunately, our luck wasn't quite as good as it was in Alberquerque, and we still didn't have a place to stay by the time we reached Flagstaff. We checked at a Best Western right off the highway, but it was going to be $99--and we were trying to be frugal since our next night's stay would be in Vegas. We decided to keep looking.
For some reason, still unbeknownst to me, we decided to stop at the very next motel we saw--the Carousel Inn. The strong smell of curry at the reception desk didn't daunt us, but the fact that said desk was behind a glass window should have. As we passed several shady characters on the way to our room, I began to have second thoughts about our choice of motels. The fact that the flimsy door didn't have a deadbolt was the last straw--we absolutely could not stay there. So we headed back to the reception, where I made Bri tell the nice Indian couple working there that we had decided to drive on and wouldn't need the room after all. Fortunately, we were able to get our money back.
We decided that it would probably be wise to stick with chain hotels in the future, unless the non-chain hotels were recommended by our guidebooks. We settled on a Travelodge right down the street that was not fancy but at least had a deadbolt on the door. Exhausted from driving through the desert and shaken by the debacle at the Carousel Inn, we opted to go for a quick swim, then order in pizza and watch the WB Friday night lineup.
Day Four: Flagstaff, Arizona to Las Vegas, Nevada
We awoke to a much better day in Flagstaff. First, From Justin to Kelly was playing on HBO, so we watched it as we got ready. Man, I thought Britney Spears' Crossroads was a cinematic masterpiece, but From Justin to Kelly really just blows it out of the water. It has everything you could want in a movie--really bad accents, spontaneous musical numbers, whipped--cream bikinis. Sadly, we had to leave before the movie was over, as we were due for breakfast in downtown Flagstaff before heading up to the Grand Canyon.
It was in downtown that I fell in love with Flagstaff. The downtown is just so adorable. It kind of reminded me of downtown Columbia, only more earthy-crunchy. We stopped at a local coffee shop for chai and baked goods, then went to the outdoors store next door so Bri could buy a new water bottle. After another quick stop at Wal-Mart (my ingenious idea for getting cash without having to pay an ATM fee), we set off for the GC.
We decided to take the route that would lead us through the Navajo Indian reservation, which meant many, many stops at the jewelry stands along the way. Still, even with all the stops, this was a wise decision, as we hardly had to wait at all at the entrance station (whereas the line at the other entrance station, we noticed on our way out, was at least a mile long).
The Grand Canyon was...well, grand, but our time there almost ended in disaster. I had a bad habit of wanting to jump the fences at the different stopping points to get the view off the beaten path, which was totally worth it. (You'd be surprised what a buzzkill those little fences are.) Anyway, I also had a bad habit of goofing off, which you really shouldn't do when you're standing on the edge of a cliff. At one spot, I wanted Bri to take a picture of me standing right on the edge of the canyon. To get a laugh, I pretended like I was falling backwards into the canyon. Only Bri didn't laugh...and when I stopped goofing around and peered over the edge of the cliff, I saw why--it was a sheer drop of at least 100 feet. One gust of wind and I would have been...well, let's just say I wouldn't have been blogging anymore. From then on, our motto was "No shenanigans!" and we managed to make it out of the Grand Canyon alive.
Our next planned stop was in Seligman, Arizona, for lunch/dinner at the famous Sno Cap Drive-In (another Route 66 icon), but when we arrived, we learned that the Sno Cap was temporarily closed because the owner (himself a Route 66 icon) had recently died of a heart attack. So we had to settle for just taking a couple of pictures and heading down the road for dinner with the bikers at the Roadkill Café.
After a surprisingly good meal, we were headed north again, this time to Vegas, by way of Hoover Dam. The dam was pretty impressive, but I think the impressiveness might have been stilted just a bit by the fact that we had been at the Grand Canyon only hours earlier. And by the fact that we couldn't really get a good view of it because the observation deck was closed by the time we got there.
After checking into our hotel in Vegas, we went for a quick (very quick) swim in the hotel's "heated" pool, which was very definitely not heated. We then headed back to the room to get gussied up for our night out on the town and soon learned that the only "going out" outfit we had each brought was a black T-shirt and jeans (or a jean skirt, in my case). However, we opted not to change because, as Bri pointed out, "I'm sure two girls wearing the same thing is not the strangest thing that's ever happened in Vegas."
Attired in our matching outfits, we headed for the Strip, where we quickly figured out the secret to Las Vegas: Buy drinks in the sketchy casinos with the cheap-drink specials and, since there are no open-container laws, carry them around to the nicer casinos. I must say, it's quite liberating to be able to walk down the street with a beer. It made me feel like I was in New Orleans. Or, since I've never actually been to New Orleans, it made me feel like I was on an MTV show where they go to New Orleans.
We walked around the strip for a few hours, taking in all the sights--the musical fountain at the Bellagio, fliers for hookers, etc.--then called it a night after a very, very long day.
Day Five: Las Vegas, Nevada to Los Angeles, California
The day started out with a lot of procrastinating, mostly because we were a bit nervous about driving across the Mojave desert. First we called Bri's dad and asked him a lot of questions about her car. Then we stopped at an auto parts store to buy some extra coolant, just in case. Then we stopped at Panera for brunch. Then we stopped at Wal-Mart to buy lots of water and snacks, just in case we got stranded in the desert.
We didn't get stranded, but I'm very glad we bought those snacks--otherwise, we might have starved, because there's pretty much nothing out there between Las Vegas and Palm Springs. Plus, we decided to take the scenic, off-highway route, which meant there was really nothing.
Our only extended stop of the day was at Joshua Tree National Park, which was a strange experience. First, there was no one at the entrance to collect our entrance fee. Considering how heavily guarded all the other national parks had been, this seemed odd. But we pressed on. However, Bri then started thinking about Charles Manson and became convinced that we were going to be murdered by homicidal hippies. Perhaps it was the strain of the desert taking its toll, but I began to get freaked out as well. We stayed just long enough to snap a few pictures, then got the hell out of there, desperate for the civilization of Los Angeles.
Of course, by the time we actually got back to civilization, we were exhausted, sweaty, road-weary, hungry, bitchy and delirious. And on our way to see Chase, who I'm sure would not have appreciated us showing up at his door in such a state. Therefore, we thought it best to get something substantial to eat before we went to his house to try and improve our state at least somewhat. Wanting to get something fast, yet still wanting to sample some local flavor, we decided to eat at In & Out Burger.
One problem: California, unlike every other state in the freaking country, does not number its exits, nor does it have those nifty little signs telling you what restaurants are at each exits. Consequently, by the time you see a place where you'd like to stop, you've already passed the exit. And so our cursing of California began.
However, we were able to navigate our way to the In & Out Burger without too much trouble and got some much-needed food and time out of the car. A short while later, we arrived at our (or at least my) final destination, Chase's apartment. Chase, being the great host he is, offered to take us out for a night on the town. Of course, he'd mentioned my arrival in town to a certain former j-school classmate who also lives in L.A., and she ended up tagging along with us for the evening. (And when I say "tagging along," I of course mean "completely directing our activities.") Chase has begged me for a full recap of the evening, but my fear of Googling prevents me from doing so. I'll just say that not much has changed since college and leave it at that.
Epilogue: Los Angeles, California to Birmingham, Alabama
So, as many of you know (because I told you), the trip was supposed to end in grand fashion with an appearance on The Price Is Right. Unfortunately, this did not happen. They start handing out passes for the show at 8:00, but you can get there as early as 6:00. I figured that as long as we got there by 6:30, we would be OK, but obviously I seriously underestimated the rabid Price Is Right fan. We got in line too late to make it onto the show, but not too late to observe some very, very interesting people. (A comment from Chase sums it up perfectly: "I wonder how many of these people are named Wanda.")
We were disappointed that we wouldn't be getting to see Bob Barker, so, to cheer us up, Chase took us to one of his favorite celebrity-sighting restaurants for brunch. Of course, it was our luck that this was the one day that no celebrities decided to eat there (although I did see a guy that looked an awful lot like Jim Walsh from 90210 at the next table).
My only requests for the rest of the day were that we see the Hollywood sign (which I did not see the last time I was in L.A.) and go to the beach (because it just seemed wrong to drive all the way across the country and not even see the ocean). After we accomplished these goals, the rest of the time in L.A. was pretty low-key, spent napping, eating, watching episodes of Felicity (with the audio commentary on, which I warn should only be attempted if you are as die-hard a fan of the show as Chase and I are, and even then undertaken with extreme caution) and tempting ourselves at IKEA and Urban Outfitters (but I am happy to report that we were very good and did not buy anything).
The next morning, at an hour too ungodly to even mention, Chase drove me to LAX (because that's how good a friend he is, although he did let me know that, for future reference, there's another airport about five minutes from his house), where I caught a flight back to Birmingham. And then I slept. And slept. And slept some more. One of these days, I'm hoping to finally be caught up on my sleep.
The End
Wednesday, June 23, 2004
Home Sweet Home
Yes, I made it back safe and sound from the Excellent Adventure, although I am now completely exhausted. (Not to mention hungry, as I haven't been to the grocery store yet.) The promised detailed recap of the road trip is coming, but not until I catch up on my sleep.
In the meantime, I have a Very Special Announcement that will be of interest to readers of this blog (particularly Autumn). I am happy to report that I have at long last captured my Friends holy grail. In fact, I have now seen "The One With the Tiny T-Shirt" twice. I knew it was scheduled to come on in syndication the day I returned from my trip (yesterday), but I didn't want to take my chances, so I also watched the DVD while at Chase's. At last! I have seen every episode of Friends! Actually, that's not true. I'm still missing a couple from Season 10, but those don't really count since they've only been on the air once so far. Now I'll just have to head back to LA once Chase gets season 3 of Felicity so I can finally see all of the episode where Julie goes apeshit and leaves the show.
Yes, I made it back safe and sound from the Excellent Adventure, although I am now completely exhausted. (Not to mention hungry, as I haven't been to the grocery store yet.) The promised detailed recap of the road trip is coming, but not until I catch up on my sleep.
In the meantime, I have a Very Special Announcement that will be of interest to readers of this blog (particularly Autumn). I am happy to report that I have at long last captured my Friends holy grail. In fact, I have now seen "The One With the Tiny T-Shirt" twice. I knew it was scheduled to come on in syndication the day I returned from my trip (yesterday), but I didn't want to take my chances, so I also watched the DVD while at Chase's. At last! I have seen every episode of Friends! Actually, that's not true. I'm still missing a couple from Season 10, but those don't really count since they've only been on the air once so far. Now I'll just have to head back to LA once Chase gets season 3 of Felicity so I can finally see all of the episode where Julie goes apeshit and leaves the show.
Tuesday, June 15, 2004
Two girls. One Mercury Grand Marquis. Two thousand miles.
The road trip of the century is about to begin. And no, I'm not talking about The Simple Life 2. Why, it's Clare & Bri's Excellent Adventure, of course! As I write this, Bri is en route to Birmingham, and in a few short hours, we will set off for Memphis, the first destination in the Excellent Adventure.
So, with that, I'm outta here for the next week or so. But stay tuned for a full report of our road trip shenanigans (plus pictures!) when I return.
The road trip of the century is about to begin. And no, I'm not talking about The Simple Life 2. Why, it's Clare & Bri's Excellent Adventure, of course! As I write this, Bri is en route to Birmingham, and in a few short hours, we will set off for Memphis, the first destination in the Excellent Adventure.
So, with that, I'm outta here for the next week or so. But stay tuned for a full report of our road trip shenanigans (plus pictures!) when I return.
Saturday, June 12, 2004
Why does this stuff always happen to me?
Last night, I spent $75 on a bottle of wine.
Now, I know some of you may be thinking--and quite rightly, I might add--"Why would someone who has just lost her job be buying a $75 bottle of wine?" Well, friends, the answer is simple: I did not intend to buy a $75 bottle of wine at all.
In fact, the bottle of wine I purchased (Yellow Tail Merlot) was chosen precisely because of its cheapness ($6.99). Everything seemed to be going well as I paid for my cheap bottle of wine. I slid my debit card through the little debit-card reader thingy, put in my PIN and said no to the offer of cash back. It then asked me if the total, $7.55, was OK. I hit the "yes" button. Then suddenly, as if from nowhere, an extra 5 appeared in the price, skyrocketing the total I had just OK'd to $75.55. This was NOT OK!
"Wait!" I cried. "Did that just say $75.55?!"
"Whaaaa?" said the cashier.
"Whaaaa?" said my friends.
I began to think that maybe I had hallucinated the extra digit. But oh, no. The receipt came out, plainly stating that I had just spent $75.55 on a cheap bottle of wine. I was dumbfounded. The cashier seemed to find this amusing and let out a little laugh. Needless to say, I did not find it quite so amusing.
Immediately, the cashier began pulling bills out of the drawer. It appeared that she was going to give me the difference in cash, which meant I would have to make a trip to the bank to re-deposit it in my account. Hoping to save myself the effort, I asked her if she could just void the transaction and somehow put the money back on my debit card. She gave me the "Whaaaa?" look again, at which point I decided it was probably better to just take the money and run.
My only question is, in the immortal words of Nancy Kerrigan, why me? Why didn't any of my friends (who all have jobs, I might add) get charged $75 for their bottles of $7 wine? Why pick on the poor, unemployed girl? It's like the Universe knows I've been slacking on the blog posting lately and wanted to give me a fun little story to tell. Well done, Universe. But next time I want a story, I'll ask for one.
Last night, I spent $75 on a bottle of wine.
Now, I know some of you may be thinking--and quite rightly, I might add--"Why would someone who has just lost her job be buying a $75 bottle of wine?" Well, friends, the answer is simple: I did not intend to buy a $75 bottle of wine at all.
In fact, the bottle of wine I purchased (Yellow Tail Merlot) was chosen precisely because of its cheapness ($6.99). Everything seemed to be going well as I paid for my cheap bottle of wine. I slid my debit card through the little debit-card reader thingy, put in my PIN and said no to the offer of cash back. It then asked me if the total, $7.55, was OK. I hit the "yes" button. Then suddenly, as if from nowhere, an extra 5 appeared in the price, skyrocketing the total I had just OK'd to $75.55. This was NOT OK!
"Wait!" I cried. "Did that just say $75.55?!"
"Whaaaa?" said the cashier.
"Whaaaa?" said my friends.
I began to think that maybe I had hallucinated the extra digit. But oh, no. The receipt came out, plainly stating that I had just spent $75.55 on a cheap bottle of wine. I was dumbfounded. The cashier seemed to find this amusing and let out a little laugh. Needless to say, I did not find it quite so amusing.
Immediately, the cashier began pulling bills out of the drawer. It appeared that she was going to give me the difference in cash, which meant I would have to make a trip to the bank to re-deposit it in my account. Hoping to save myself the effort, I asked her if she could just void the transaction and somehow put the money back on my debit card. She gave me the "Whaaaa?" look again, at which point I decided it was probably better to just take the money and run.
My only question is, in the immortal words of Nancy Kerrigan, why me? Why didn't any of my friends (who all have jobs, I might add) get charged $75 for their bottles of $7 wine? Why pick on the poor, unemployed girl? It's like the Universe knows I've been slacking on the blog posting lately and wanted to give me a fun little story to tell. Well done, Universe. But next time I want a story, I'll ask for one.
Friday, June 11, 2004
Blame Reagan
If I lose on The Price Is Right, it will be all Ronald Reagan's fault.
So far, his week-long funeral has pre-empted not one, but two (two!) episodes of Price Is Right. Ordinarily this wouldn't be such a big deal, but it has been imperative that I watch The Price Is Right this week in order to prepare for my big appearance on the show. I simply cannot miss an epsiode! What if I get up on stage and suddenly forget the sticker price of a Pontiac Sunfire?! It would be tragic.
Actually, I guess it's not really fair to blame Reagan. The poor guy's dead, after all. And he was the President of the United States, so I guess that entitles him to an elaborate, Eva Peron-like funeral (although I really don't recall such fuss being made over Nixon, but maybe that's understandable). The real culprit here are the news stations that are treating the whole affair as if it deserves round-the-clock coverage. "This just in: Ronald Reagan's casket is now being moved a quarter of an inch!" Or "The latest estimates show that 4,000 people have viewed former President Reagan's casket in the past hour. Let's watch them all, in real time, as they file by!" Or, worst of all, "Nothing new to report on Casket Watch '04, so let's get some random people into the studio to talk about Ronald Reagan and why we should or should not love him." I mean, come on. It wasn't that long ago that Reagan was President. I'm sure we can all remember why we loved or hated him without the help of the random pundits. (Even though most of my memories of Reagan are confined to the imitation of him that my friend Bridger did at my second grade birthday party. Sadly, this has not appeared on the news yet.)
Anyway, so if I end up losing on The Price Is Right, Dan Rather had better be prepared to cut me a pretty sizeable check. That's all I'm saying.
If I lose on The Price Is Right, it will be all Ronald Reagan's fault.
So far, his week-long funeral has pre-empted not one, but two (two!) episodes of Price Is Right. Ordinarily this wouldn't be such a big deal, but it has been imperative that I watch The Price Is Right this week in order to prepare for my big appearance on the show. I simply cannot miss an epsiode! What if I get up on stage and suddenly forget the sticker price of a Pontiac Sunfire?! It would be tragic.
Actually, I guess it's not really fair to blame Reagan. The poor guy's dead, after all. And he was the President of the United States, so I guess that entitles him to an elaborate, Eva Peron-like funeral (although I really don't recall such fuss being made over Nixon, but maybe that's understandable). The real culprit here are the news stations that are treating the whole affair as if it deserves round-the-clock coverage. "This just in: Ronald Reagan's casket is now being moved a quarter of an inch!" Or "The latest estimates show that 4,000 people have viewed former President Reagan's casket in the past hour. Let's watch them all, in real time, as they file by!" Or, worst of all, "Nothing new to report on Casket Watch '04, so let's get some random people into the studio to talk about Ronald Reagan and why we should or should not love him." I mean, come on. It wasn't that long ago that Reagan was President. I'm sure we can all remember why we loved or hated him without the help of the random pundits. (Even though most of my memories of Reagan are confined to the imitation of him that my friend Bridger did at my second grade birthday party. Sadly, this has not appeared on the news yet.)
Anyway, so if I end up losing on The Price Is Right, Dan Rather had better be prepared to cut me a pretty sizeable check. That's all I'm saying.
Monday, June 07, 2004
Better late than never
Last night, I was finally able to watch an episode of WB Superstar USA. Perhaps it's because the Tyrant had already prepared me for many aspects of the show, but my favorite part was not the judges' sarcastic comments or the, um, unique personalities of the contestants or even the abiding adorableness of Brian McFayden (who, much to my disappointment, did not use the "McFayden...gone!" line). No, my favorite part was the cheesier than cheesy background screens. In my opinion, if you're going to parody American Idol, you have to pay attention to the details, and the producers of Superstar USA have done just that. Even their background screens are sarcastic! I love it! My favorite was the background screen used during Jamie's performance of "My Heart Will Go On," which looked like a low-rate virtual reality game in which a large ship dodged various icebergs. Awesome.
After Superstar USA, I decided to give the Lori Loughlin show we dismissed last week another chance. (What else did I have to do on a Sunday night?) And actually, I found that it wasn't all that bad. Of course, that's not to say it was good, because it wasn't. But for mindless summer entertainment, it'll do. Plus, what else do I have to do on Tuesday nights now that American Idol is over? Of course, once The Amazing Race 5 starts, all bets are off.
Last night, I was finally able to watch an episode of WB Superstar USA. Perhaps it's because the Tyrant had already prepared me for many aspects of the show, but my favorite part was not the judges' sarcastic comments or the, um, unique personalities of the contestants or even the abiding adorableness of Brian McFayden (who, much to my disappointment, did not use the "McFayden...gone!" line). No, my favorite part was the cheesier than cheesy background screens. In my opinion, if you're going to parody American Idol, you have to pay attention to the details, and the producers of Superstar USA have done just that. Even their background screens are sarcastic! I love it! My favorite was the background screen used during Jamie's performance of "My Heart Will Go On," which looked like a low-rate virtual reality game in which a large ship dodged various icebergs. Awesome.
After Superstar USA, I decided to give the Lori Loughlin show we dismissed last week another chance. (What else did I have to do on a Sunday night?) And actually, I found that it wasn't all that bad. Of course, that's not to say it was good, because it wasn't. But for mindless summer entertainment, it'll do. Plus, what else do I have to do on Tuesday nights now that American Idol is over? Of course, once The Amazing Race 5 starts, all bets are off.
Friday, June 04, 2004
More fun with the unemployed
This week, I filed for unemployment. As part of this process, I had to go and register with my local employment office and have an in-person interview. (When I told my dad I was doing this, he was of course ready with the appropriate Seinfeld reference: "Vandalay Industries! Say Vandalay Industries!") Having never done this before, I was unsure of what to expect. The night before, I conferred with Kate as to what I should wear. She suggested that I wear an outfit similar to one I would wear to the office. I thought that might still be too dressy, so I opted for "office on casual Fridays," which translated into khakis and a sleeveless sweater.
As it turned out, I was the most dressed-up person in the employment office. Well, that's not technically true. A cute guy came in shortly after me wearing khakis and a button-down shirt. I briefly entertained the Seinfeldian fantasy that he would ask me out. But this is not New York, it's Birmingham, and so he was married. Which is probably for the best, because the employment office is really not the best place to be meeting potential dates.
Anyway. I also brought along a copy of my resume, which also turned out to be pretty unnecessary, except that it did help me when filling out what was quite possibly the easiest job application ever. In fact, the most challenging part of the job application was the "skills" section. The first part of the "skills" section was for listing non-computer-related skills. The example they gave was "welding." Hmmm. I only had one non-computer-related skill listed on my resume, so I put it down: AP style. It looked pretty strange sitting there next to "welding."
Next were the computer-related skills. I had plenty of these, but I was confused by the fact that they wanted me to indicate my level of experience with each software program by stating how long I'd been using it. How am I supposed to know how many years I've been using Microsoft Word? Since birth? It feels like it, anyway. I ended up putting down 10 years, since I know I've been using it since I started high school, and that was 10 years ago.
Once I was done with the easiest job application ever, I waited to be called for my interview. While I waited, I perused a booklet on the do's and don't's of interviewing. Some of the helpful tips espoused by the booklet included "Don't bring friends and family members with you to the interview" (no, really) and "Don't wear skintight jeans or party dresses." (Does that mean baggy jeans and non-party dresses are acceptable?)
Finally, it was time for me to put the interviewing tips I had just learned into action. A woman came out and called my name, and I followed her into a windowless, cinder-block office. The following is a rough transcript of the interview:
I sit there for 5-10 minutes, musing on the sadness of this woman having to work in a windowless, cinder-block office while she types the information on my application into the computer.
Employment Office Woman: So, do you have any questions?
Keep in mind that this is basically the first thing she's said to me since I've been in her office.
Me: No.
Me: OK, actually, yes. Um, I know that to get my unemployment check every month, I have to be actively looking for work. Which, obviously, I am. But how do they monitor that?
Employment Office Woman: Well, they really don't.
Great. She goes on to tell me that since most job posting and searching is done over the Internet these days, the Employment Office really has no way to track whether a person is actually applying for jobs or not. She then wishes me luck finding a new job and sends me on my way. And that was the entire "interview."
Today, I got a letter in the mail telling me that my unemployment check will be for $200 a week. Sadly, that's not too far from what I was making at my job after taxes. In fact, throw in my freelance work, and I'll probably be making around what I did when I was actually employed. (Or possibly even more, depending on how many freelance projects I get.) So what, other than the fact that I have a conscience, is supposed to inspire me to ever go back to work again?
This week, I filed for unemployment. As part of this process, I had to go and register with my local employment office and have an in-person interview. (When I told my dad I was doing this, he was of course ready with the appropriate Seinfeld reference: "Vandalay Industries! Say Vandalay Industries!") Having never done this before, I was unsure of what to expect. The night before, I conferred with Kate as to what I should wear. She suggested that I wear an outfit similar to one I would wear to the office. I thought that might still be too dressy, so I opted for "office on casual Fridays," which translated into khakis and a sleeveless sweater.
As it turned out, I was the most dressed-up person in the employment office. Well, that's not technically true. A cute guy came in shortly after me wearing khakis and a button-down shirt. I briefly entertained the Seinfeldian fantasy that he would ask me out. But this is not New York, it's Birmingham, and so he was married. Which is probably for the best, because the employment office is really not the best place to be meeting potential dates.
Anyway. I also brought along a copy of my resume, which also turned out to be pretty unnecessary, except that it did help me when filling out what was quite possibly the easiest job application ever. In fact, the most challenging part of the job application was the "skills" section. The first part of the "skills" section was for listing non-computer-related skills. The example they gave was "welding." Hmmm. I only had one non-computer-related skill listed on my resume, so I put it down: AP style. It looked pretty strange sitting there next to "welding."
Next were the computer-related skills. I had plenty of these, but I was confused by the fact that they wanted me to indicate my level of experience with each software program by stating how long I'd been using it. How am I supposed to know how many years I've been using Microsoft Word? Since birth? It feels like it, anyway. I ended up putting down 10 years, since I know I've been using it since I started high school, and that was 10 years ago.
Once I was done with the easiest job application ever, I waited to be called for my interview. While I waited, I perused a booklet on the do's and don't's of interviewing. Some of the helpful tips espoused by the booklet included "Don't bring friends and family members with you to the interview" (no, really) and "Don't wear skintight jeans or party dresses." (Does that mean baggy jeans and non-party dresses are acceptable?)
Finally, it was time for me to put the interviewing tips I had just learned into action. A woman came out and called my name, and I followed her into a windowless, cinder-block office. The following is a rough transcript of the interview:
I sit there for 5-10 minutes, musing on the sadness of this woman having to work in a windowless, cinder-block office while she types the information on my application into the computer.
Employment Office Woman: So, do you have any questions?
Keep in mind that this is basically the first thing she's said to me since I've been in her office.
Me: No.
Me: OK, actually, yes. Um, I know that to get my unemployment check every month, I have to be actively looking for work. Which, obviously, I am. But how do they monitor that?
Employment Office Woman: Well, they really don't.
Great. She goes on to tell me that since most job posting and searching is done over the Internet these days, the Employment Office really has no way to track whether a person is actually applying for jobs or not. She then wishes me luck finding a new job and sends me on my way. And that was the entire "interview."
Today, I got a letter in the mail telling me that my unemployment check will be for $200 a week. Sadly, that's not too far from what I was making at my job after taxes. In fact, throw in my freelance work, and I'll probably be making around what I did when I was actually employed. (Or possibly even more, depending on how many freelance projects I get.) So what, other than the fact that I have a conscience, is supposed to inspire me to ever go back to work again?
Thursday, June 03, 2004
I dream of Vespa
So...another side effect of my recent and sudden unemployment is that I have to decide what to do with the money in my 401k plan. I can either have the money now to spend any way I choose (after the government takes about 30% of it), or I can roll it over, tax-free, into an IRA. I realize that most people in my position, being with out any real source of income, would choose to take what's left of the money after the government gets its hands on it. But I just can't do that. Not only because I don't want to fork over 30% of my hard-earned money, but also because I have big plans for my retirement, involving living on the beach (either in Key West or on the Costa del Sol in Spain) and driving a Vespa. I simply cannot give up on my dream of driving a Vespa so easily! So I decided to open an IRA.
I went to my bank yesterday and told the teller that I'd like to talk to someone about opening an IRA. Her response: "What's an IRA?" OK. 1) If you work at a bank, shouldn't you know what an IRA is? And 2) This woman looked like she was approximately the age at which one should retire. So she should definitely know what an IRA is. Anyway, I explained to her that it's a retirement account. She looked at me quizzically. While I realize that, yes, it is a bit strange for a 24-year-old girl to walk into a bank and ask about retirement accounts, surely I can't be the only 24-year-old in the world who has ever opened an IRA. Anyway, after studying me for several seconds while wondering if I had in fact discovered the fountain of youth, the woman finally said, "Well, aren't you smart!" Indeed I am. And also, I want a Vespa.
So...another side effect of my recent and sudden unemployment is that I have to decide what to do with the money in my 401k plan. I can either have the money now to spend any way I choose (after the government takes about 30% of it), or I can roll it over, tax-free, into an IRA. I realize that most people in my position, being with out any real source of income, would choose to take what's left of the money after the government gets its hands on it. But I just can't do that. Not only because I don't want to fork over 30% of my hard-earned money, but also because I have big plans for my retirement, involving living on the beach (either in Key West or on the Costa del Sol in Spain) and driving a Vespa. I simply cannot give up on my dream of driving a Vespa so easily! So I decided to open an IRA.
I went to my bank yesterday and told the teller that I'd like to talk to someone about opening an IRA. Her response: "What's an IRA?" OK. 1) If you work at a bank, shouldn't you know what an IRA is? And 2) This woman looked like she was approximately the age at which one should retire. So she should definitely know what an IRA is. Anyway, I explained to her that it's a retirement account. She looked at me quizzically. While I realize that, yes, it is a bit strange for a 24-year-old girl to walk into a bank and ask about retirement accounts, surely I can't be the only 24-year-old in the world who has ever opened an IRA. Anyway, after studying me for several seconds while wondering if I had in fact discovered the fountain of youth, the woman finally said, "Well, aren't you smart!" Indeed I am. And also, I want a Vespa.
Tuesday, June 01, 2004
The Universe: Up to its old tricks
So I am convinced that the Universe does not want me to see WB Superstar USA. Why not? Consider, if you will, the following evidence:
On Friday night, everything seemed perfectly aligned for my viewing of Superstar USA. I turned on the WB on the off chance that they would be showing a rerun. They were not, but I did happen to catch a promo that told me when the next episode of the show would air. There were episodes on both Sunday and Monday, both of which I thought I would surely be able to catch, as I had no plans at the time.
So then what happened? Plans! A couple of friends decided they would have a cookout on Sunday night to celebrate Memorial Day. How could I say no? In my current situation, when someone offers to feed you, you don't say no. Actually, in any situation, if someone offers to feed you, you don't say no. Unfortunately, the cookout did not include a viewing of Superstar USA. But I wasn't too worried, as there was still Monday.
I sat down last night, all prepared to watch Superstar USA. Only there was one problem--it didn't come on until 8:00. What was I to do with myself between 7 and 8? You know I won't watch Seventh Heaven or Fear Factor. Since I knew The Swan had ended last week, I flipped over to Fox to see what they were running in its place.
And oh, joy of joy! It was a rerun of The O.C.! Not just a rerun of The O.C., but a rerun of The O.C. that I had never seen before because it came on during that time when I oh-so-stupidly decided to watch The Bachelorette instead. My TV night was shaping up quite well indeed. I could watch this new-to-me episode of The O.C. from 7-8, then turn over to Superstar USA at 8.
Oh, but things can never be that simple. Because after that episode of The O.C., they decided to run an encore of the finale. The finale! You all know how much I loved the finale! I am powerless to resist it! Plus, I decided I probably should tape it, just in case I need another O.C. fix between now and the start of the new season in November. Because of the extreme suckiness of my VCR, I cannot tape one show while watching another--I pretty much have to watch whatever show I am taping. So this means...I missed Superstar USA once again.
I only hope they're rerunning it again tonight, because I don't have any plans. Yet.
So I am convinced that the Universe does not want me to see WB Superstar USA. Why not? Consider, if you will, the following evidence:
On Friday night, everything seemed perfectly aligned for my viewing of Superstar USA. I turned on the WB on the off chance that they would be showing a rerun. They were not, but I did happen to catch a promo that told me when the next episode of the show would air. There were episodes on both Sunday and Monday, both of which I thought I would surely be able to catch, as I had no plans at the time.
So then what happened? Plans! A couple of friends decided they would have a cookout on Sunday night to celebrate Memorial Day. How could I say no? In my current situation, when someone offers to feed you, you don't say no. Actually, in any situation, if someone offers to feed you, you don't say no. Unfortunately, the cookout did not include a viewing of Superstar USA. But I wasn't too worried, as there was still Monday.
I sat down last night, all prepared to watch Superstar USA. Only there was one problem--it didn't come on until 8:00. What was I to do with myself between 7 and 8? You know I won't watch Seventh Heaven or Fear Factor. Since I knew The Swan had ended last week, I flipped over to Fox to see what they were running in its place.
And oh, joy of joy! It was a rerun of The O.C.! Not just a rerun of The O.C., but a rerun of The O.C. that I had never seen before because it came on during that time when I oh-so-stupidly decided to watch The Bachelorette instead. My TV night was shaping up quite well indeed. I could watch this new-to-me episode of The O.C. from 7-8, then turn over to Superstar USA at 8.
Oh, but things can never be that simple. Because after that episode of The O.C., they decided to run an encore of the finale. The finale! You all know how much I loved the finale! I am powerless to resist it! Plus, I decided I probably should tape it, just in case I need another O.C. fix between now and the start of the new season in November. Because of the extreme suckiness of my VCR, I cannot tape one show while watching another--I pretty much have to watch whatever show I am taping. So this means...I missed Superstar USA once again.
I only hope they're rerunning it again tonight, because I don't have any plans. Yet.
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