Defining a Dive Bar

Let me just begin by saying this: I love dive bars. I would much rather go to a dive bar than some packed club or trendy (a.k.a. expensive) bar. I like the kind of place where I can wear jeans, Batman t-shirt, and a ponytail and still be one of the best-dressed people there.

Sometimes, when first visiting a bar, it can be hard to tell if you are for sure in a "dive bar" or not. Of course, there are your dive bars that are recognizable from a couple of blocks down the street. But there are also some that are borderline dive bars. If you visit these bars during off-peak hours, it may be hard to distinguish if it is indeed a dive bar.

I have found that the best way to clearly tag a dive bar is by examining the restroom. I have an advantage because women's restrooms either "ARE" or "ARE NOT" dive bar bathrooms. There is no in-between.

So... Here are some photos to help you indicate whether or not you are in a dive bar by only checking out the women's restroom.

Number One: No soap dispenser; just a bar of soap resting on a papertowel on the side of the cigarette-stained sink. (Although the fact that there is soap at all means that you are in a higher-class dive bar.)

Number Two: Toilet seat that is not attached to the toilet itself. (Lucky that in a dive bar, women usually "hover" anyway.)

Number Three: Religious message scrawled on the wall, complete with witty retort quipped beneath.

I hope this helps you to identify the next dive bar you visit. Be sure to have a PBR (preferably in a can) for me!

Thunder Thighs

Bastards.*

So, I went looking through my archives to find a picture that I knew I had posted a couple of years ago. Apparently, when I switched my blog over from the original Blogger to the "new and improved" Blogger, I lost the paragraphs of my previous posts. So, now, if you want to read any old posts of my blog, it ends up just looking like one huge blob of a story with no breaks.

I am a big fan of paragraphs. It pisses me right off that all my hard work in creating eloquent and well-crafted paragraphs are now just a big jumble of words.

I'm also a big fan of using "...". I think this is because I write the way that I speak... And usually, I try not to pause long enough to let another person get a word in edgewise, because otherwise I won't be able to finish everything that I want to say... So, I just trail each sentence off, as though I still have something to say, take a breath and keep going.

Serious writers hate ellipsis. (That's what the dot-dot-dot punctuation is called. Did you know that? Grammar lesson of the day.)

I also like using semi-colons. I think they make my writing look like I am smarter than I actually am. However, semi-colons are another piece of punctuation that not all people appreciate. Kurt Vonnegut wrote about hating semi-colons. He called the "hermaphrodite transvestites." Figure that one out, if you can.

And to end this entry: I said to myself, "I'll to try to use every piece of punctuation in only a few sentences; perhaps I'll succeed." Eh... ?&*#$ it!

*Apparently, this post means nothing, because I just discovered it was a setting I accidently changed earlier today that caused the paragraphs to disappear. Sorry, Blogger... I take it back. Duh...

"Thanks, Old Dude"

My opinion of Paris Hilton has just increased ten-fold in a matter of a 1-minute and 50-second "Funny or Die" clip. I wonder what Britney will come up with.

See more Paris Hilton videos at Funny or Die

BTW - Did you know that Paris' parents are contributors to the McCain campaign? How's that for pissing in your Wheaties?

Cutting Costs

As Dave and I work to plan our small wedding, we are amazed at how the estimated cost of our event keeps growing exponentially from what we first anticipated.

Therefore, we will be instituting the following cost cutting measures:

1. All invitations will be issued by Evite.
2. RSVP's must be received within one week of the Evite being sent. If you have not responded, you will be removed from the guest list. No exceptions.
3. We'll be asking my friend, Mike B., to perform the ceremony. He was ordained through the Internets.
4. We will be using Chris's karaoke machine and CD's for entertainment at the reception.
5. Which will be held in the parking lot at the new White Castles in Troy, MO. (Mmmmm... Crave Case...)
6. BYOB.
7. And, if you want to be able to sit down, a lawn chair.
8. Please include a gift receipt with all gifts. And pay cash when you buy them. Then, we can return the gifts and get the money to pay the bill at the White Castles.
9. We'll be using a check from a closed account at the Aldi to pay for floral arrangements.
10. Honeymoon? One word: Branson!

Be sure to check your e-mail for the Evite... It is going to be a beatiful ceremony!

My Last Chance

August 8, 2008.

Kansas City, Missouri.

American Idol Auditions!

Auditions are open to: Men and women 16-28 years old as of July 15, 2008.

It is my last chance. It is now or never... *Sigh*

I do have a bonus this year, though: If you have a baby, and you can get that baby into the audition room with Randy, Paula, and Simon, you are almost guaranteed a spot to Hollywood.

What would I sing, though? One of my karaoke signature songs?

Hmmmm.... Worth some consideration...

Or maybe not.

Oh, well.

The Race Card?

Apparently, John McCain is accusing Barack Obama of "pulling the race card" in his campaign. (He is referring to comments that Obama has made regarding the fact that he doesn't "look like the presidents on the $1 bill or $5 bill.")

John McCain is the epitomy of White Privilege. It is a fantasy to think that racism does not exist in American society. We are not all the same ethnicity, race, sexual orientation, or religion. To pretend otherwise is simply to hinder the growth of a society striving to accept people for their differences.

For Obama not to acknowledge the fact that he is African-American would be silly. He needs to directly address it, which he has done. For McCain to insinuate that Obama is using this for political gain is simply a microaggression brought about by being raised in a racist society. Whether or not America is ready for a non-White president is a topic being discussed by every voter in America.

I am sure that McCain is not an overtly racist man; however, expecting Obama to go through this campaign pretending to be White is a subtle form of racism. Saying that Obama is trying to make political gains by somehow "cashing in" on his race is ridiculous. Is McCain really afraid that White America is going to support Obama because he somehow will use his race to his advantage? There is a reason that they don't call it "Black Privilege."

Ronda is harassing me for a new post, so I'll humor her and put one up...

I found this other other day when I was cleaning out a gift bag of stuff I got around Christmas time:

CHOCOLATE!!! Score!!!

Chocolate should still be good seven months later, right? I went ahead and took off the snowman's head and pulled out a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup. After removing the wrapper and checking out the enclosed candy, I decided it looked edible. I popped it into my mouth.

Unfortunately, the person who gave this to me included mint-flavored Hershey's Kisses in the mix. I am not a big fan of mint-flavored anything and the mint Kisses had infected all of the surrounding chocolates. Something about the combination of chocolate + peanut butter + mint that didn't quite seem right to me.

It is hard to admit my level of disappointment.

I tossed the candy but kept the snowman... It is something else that Dave and I can eventually put into our storage unit.

Update

For those of you who are interested, I've finally gotten around to updating Sparky's website. You can visit it here.

I'll have a real post within the next day or two. Promise.

A Day at the Zoo...

Time has been flying this summer. I'm only taking one class, but that is plenty to keep me busy in the time that I am not running errands, washing bottles, or changing Sparky's diaper.

Today, however, we found time to take a trip to the zoo with my friends, Carrie and Susan, and their twin babies, Harper and Jackson. It was the first trip to the zoo for all three of the babies.

We saw the chimpanzees:


And the bears:


And, finally, we took a ride on the train. (That is friend Nurse Chris in the picture with us. Yes, the Sparkster is trying to sleep.)

While on a lunch break, we compared baby foot sizes. Harper was born on Valentine's Day of this year, so she is two months older than Sparky. However, he weighs more than either of the twins and as this pic shows, he also has much larger feet.


There's something to be proud of!