Another Edition of 'Ho at Da Sto'

By popular request, here is another edition of "Ho at da Sto." This was captured (not very well) at Walmart recently. There was just way too much going to to get a good pic of this woman. She was completely stuffed in to her top – and coming out the top. The top was a midriff and the shorts were skimpy. She was quite a package.

Ho In Da Sto'

Another edition of Ho In Da Sto' features this customer of the Burger King we stopped at on the way to Starkville a couple of weeks ago. Forget where this was, but she's workin' the shoes.

Random Images ...

Saw a few peculiar signs around the Coast this weekend and wanted to share.

Selling points

The first is a marketing idea that hasn't quite caught on: telling the public that

 one

 of the main draws of your restaurant is that it features tables and chairs. Wow! Now, if that's your biggest selling point, that and the fact that you've bumped the thermostat, you might want to reconsider your offerings, or at least your marketing strategy.

Authorized representative

This sign was spotted in Long Beach. I'm not sure if this means the husband was henpecked and is now empowered to fully participate in the sale of a structure he lives in or what. Up to you to figure out.

Well, it is on the beach ...

The last one is also from Long Beach, and is probably just a ruse to attact attention. Well played.

Messin' with Chuck

We went to Chuck E. Cheese the other day for my great-nephew's 7th birthday. Nobody pays any attention to Chuck anymore. The kids either want to play or eat their pizza. They really don't want anything to do with the giant rat. I thought I'd get up there and give Chuck some company. I tried answering his phone, but since it was time to eat it was just a telemarketer calling.

Father's Day Love

Love can show up in mysterious ways, like this heart-shaped russet

potato at Winn-Dixie on

 Sunday. I hope somebody snapped it up as a great way to tell Dad they love him, along with a nice steak.

Watch Out for the

 Slow Children

Found this hand-painted sign today at the trailer park behind Walgreens. You can rent by the week or month. But don't go any faster than 5 MHP through there, whatever that is.

Romance in the Swamp

Sent in by Emotional Taxidermy's Astute Reader, Romance in the Swamp comes to us via Silver Springs, Florida. Go to any bar late on a Saturday night and I think you'll find we as a species aren't that far removed from our prehistoric brethren in the swamps. Thanks, Astute Reader – you know what I like!

Courtship

Breeding season is directly related to temperature and lasts six to eight weeks.

Courtship activities occur in three phases and serves to synchronize the breeding cycle of males and females.

Phase 1: Attracting members of the opposite sec by bellowing and headslapping.

Phase 2: Pair formation. Male and female touch each other's snout, produce a cough-like sound and swim together. This behavior signals non-aggressive intentions. At this point either partner may end the courtship with a series of bellows and growls and swim away. Generally females select the males. Once a pair is formed, courtship continues with sounds, snout touching, back rubbing, circling, bubble blowing and spewing water from the nostrils.

Phase 3: Copulation, which can last for 15 minutes and is repeated over several days.

Larger males and females have an extended breeding season. Larger females will mate first so that if smaller females mate at all it will be late in the breeding season at the end of the ovulation cycle. Nests of smaller females may contain many infertile or malformed eggs. Not all females nest in a given year. After courtship the males disperse and the females begin the task of preparing nests.

Fun at Sam's Club

Found an interesting box the other day during a trip to Sam's. Looks like the employees have been having a bit of fun.

The Lil' Red Wagon of DOOM! has cool flames on both sides. Also, the word "Red" is crossed out in pen and "Station" is written in above it. I love it when people have fun at work. Yay, Sam's Club employees!

Right In My Own Backyard

I've been wondering for several weeks now what the weird guy Claude across the street has been doing with the end of his new fence. He was finally gone, so my niece and I walked over to get a look.

As you can see, he has filled the end of his fence, the part facing the street, with lots of little figurines: a squirrel, a fox, an alien, birds and a birdhouse, etc. Couldn't resist the photo.

Another Recording from Days Past

A while back I talked about the country music albums that I treasure. I've got a comedy record that I loved to hear when I was younger. It was already old by the time I got to hear it. It was my grandpa's, and he had a great sense of humor.

I guess It's In the Book is the main side and it's by Johnny Standley and was recorded sometime in the 1950s. Standley is in the guise of an old country preacher, somewhere between Andy Griffith and a tent revival, and discusses the story of Little Bo Peep very literally. It was so amusing to hear, and safe for all audiences, of course.

The best part to me is the second side, the song Grandma's Lye Soap. It's a hoot! I played this record so much while I was growing up that I can still recite every word. Unfortunately, my copy is a 78 and it broke. Thank God someone posted a recording of the record on YouTube. Now you all can hear it, too. Have fun! Grandma's Lye Soap starts about halfway in, so wait for it.

Batter Up!

For those of you who love spray-can cheese, whipped topping, etc., you can now spray your pancakes! Saw this in Winn-Dixie this weekend - the Batter Blaster. Just blast the batter onto your griddle, into your waffle maker, at unsuspecting family pets, etc. And it's organic, for those of you who care about blasting friendly fire.

A Walk Down a Country Lane

I really don't like new country music. I think it has gotten so far from its roots as to be unrecognizable. Too pop, too glam. But give me good old country music and I'm happy.

I grew up going with my parents to taverns. (In Southern Illinois

we say "taverns," not "bars.") My mother was 

too afraid to take me out of the house before I was six months old because she thought I'd get some horrible disease, but the minute I turned six months, out I went with them.

We lived two doors down from their usual hangout, the Broadway Tavern,

 and went there every Friday and

 Saturday night – maybe on Wednesday and Sunday, too. They never left me with a babysitter; I was taken along every time. Sometimes we'd go to the Heidelberg, sometimes to Gherdini's, sometimes to the Elk's Club or Meyers' Tavern.

Beef jerky and beer nuts were food staples to me. I liked chocolate soda or a Shirley Temple if I was feeling grown-up. I had my run of the place when we went to the Broadway. I could walk all around, maybe go in the back to the storeroom

 where some of the guys played cards. I was fascinated with the old pictures on the wall of the Broadway's old days and the collection of hundreds of shaped Jim

 Beam bottles along the top of the walls in their lighted glass cases.

There was always country music playing. When they had me, my mom was 38 and my dad was 50, so they ran with an older crowd. They loved country music from the '30s on. I learned to love the music, the accents and the twang.

When we'd have people over, there were a couple of albums that got played over and over while everyone was drinking beer and I was running tipboards. A tipboard is a gambling device where people pay to peel off a folded and sealed batch of tickets for the chance to get the winning number. Not legal and probably not a great idea to have a 7-year-old running it. But that's my life.

Some of the music that was always playing is from my absolute favorite country album. It's a variety album with the snappy name of "Famous Original Hits by 25 Great Country Music Artists." Everybody's on there, starting with Roy Acuff and the "Wabash Cannonball" to Lefty Frizzell and "If You've Got the Money, Honey (I've Got the Time)," to Buck Owens with "Act Naturally." It's just a fabulous lineup of the great old stars and their original hits and I've never found another country album to rival it.

Later on they put out a follow-up to it, called "Country Hall of Fame, Vol. 2." Not exactly the same name as the first, but I guess they figured that's what everyone would call it. It's got another good lineup, but definitely secondary to the first. Even with that said, there was Roger Miller (love him!) with "Dang Me," Ray Price doing "City Lights," and Flatt & Scruggs with "Foggy Mountain Special."

As you can see, I still have the albums. They are my treasures. I only wish I could find them on CD. Not likely, but I'm always looking.

A Taco Bell Experience

So we go to Taco Bell the other day and pull up right in front of one of the lights in the parking lot. Loved the graffitti on it, so I wanted to share it. Apparently other beings love tacos, too! Photo by Herb.

My Brush with Celebrity

Yeah, I got to meet Dan Aykroyd when he was in Gulfport last week. He was in town promoting his new spirit, Crystal Head vodka, the bottle of which is made as an exact replica of a human skull, done in Murano glass.

He was at L&M liquor store on Pass Road from 2-4 Friday afternoon, April 24. I'm hoping that not a lot of people besides me saw the small, pink sign on the windows at the liquor store and that there won't be many people there. You know, that way Dan and I could have a chance to chat, swap ideas, exchange business cards, etc.

Well, there were hundreds and hundreds of people there. Lots. When I got there at 1:30, the crowd was already down the side of the building, jogged out into the street

 and about a half a block down from there. Word had gotten out. The huge overland rig with "Crystal Head vodka" all over it may have

 helped.

So I stood in line for about an hour and a half, having a great time talking with this skinny, leathery chick from McClain who had already sampled some spirits before she got there. But she was cool. We had a good time cutting up until she kept referring to Dan Aykroyd as Bill Murray and then got me doing it.

When I finally got to where Dan was signing the bottles I put my 1976 Saturday Night Live album down on the table and told him that I'd been schlepping that album around the country since 1976. He said "Great!" and said that he hoped I still watched the show. Of co

urse I said yes, and that I have a friend who is a dresser for the show.

He was pleasantly surprised and asked who it was. I told him it was Keith Shaw.

"Keith?! I know Keith! We've worked together on a few things. Tell him I said hello!"

I was so stunned. I thought I was getting punked. (Keith, if you really don't know Dan, just don't tell me.)

I told him that we'd been best friends since high school. Then he asked my name and I managed to remember it. Then he said, "The next time I see Keith, I'll remember you to him." I'm walking on clouds by this time. I've had an actual conversation with Dan Aykroyd, I've shaken his hand twice, had my picture made with him and gotten autographs on the ultra-cool bottle of liquor and my prized SNL album. I also got a good sunburn that was definitely worth it. Had a great time.

Ho in Da Sto'

Today's edition of "Ho in Da Sto" is brought to you by the Ho Patro'. This particular specimen was snapped at 10 am on a Sunday in Winn-Dixie. I wheeled around the end of the aisle just in time to see the white pumps. The shorts, hat and everything really made the outfit, but the "unsober" attitude really sealed the deal. Sorry the pic is blurry - I was too stunned to hold the camera still.

Captured on Film

I present here, for the first time, a photo of UPS trucks mating in the wild. Scientists have long thought that this is the origin of the mini UPS trucks you see driving around, but no one was sure until now. I offer up this photo as proof for the world to see.

Something Else Not Often Seen ...

... an intergalactic mugging. Just putting this out there as a general warning. All that stuff you hear about the Galactic Federation and everybody being all lovey-dovey – what a bunch of crap!

More Q&A with TQ

Q: Did you document your first green beer?

A: Yes! It was St. Patrick's Day 1981, down on Laclede's Landing in St. Louis. I believe that was the same day we went to the zoo and a pigeon pooped all down the front of my sweater. Memorable day.

Q: Who do you think styled your hair that day?

A: I'm not sure, but it looks like someone from the Tupperware Company, bowl division.

Q: Have you recently come across

 another great book title?

A: Oh, yeah! Absinthe & Flamethrowers: Projects and Ruminations on the Art of Living Dangerously, by William Gurstelle, the same guy that brought you Backyard Ballistics. This guy's got it going on!

Minnie and Spotted Dick

Saturday's shopping excursion to Malbis, on the east side of Mobile Bay, proved fun and thorougly legal, despite speculations of jail time. Karen was great and didn't let a migraine stop her from adventure.

We shopped – well, mostly I shopped – and the stores were all having sales. A birthday party in the mall's common area included an appearance by Minnie Mouse, which I promptly got in on. She was on her way out and in a hurry, probably because her feet hurt from those

crazy red heels she was wearing. She was really working that red dress, but I still think I had it all over her.

I knocked over a plant in Pottery Barn with my purse,

pretty much the minute we got in there. We went on to World Market, scouring it for Pez and Spotted Dick. The Pez was sparse. We made up for that by trying to come up with the many ways I could ask for assistance finding the other.

"I'm looking for Spotted Dick."

"Could you show me your Spotted Dick?"

"I need some Spotted Dick."

"Sir, where is your Spotted Dick?"

The Spotted Dick will be a surprise in the mail for one of my blog readers (you probably know who you are). Can't wait to declare that to the Post Office when I mail it ("Anything fragile, liquid, hazardous or persihable?" "Uh, all of the above?" Well, probably not that perishable).

Found a treasure trove of my favorite candy bar, Rocky Road, and bought all they had. Sounds like a lot, but there were only six. They didn't melt in the car! Hooray!

And we all lived happily ever after. Until the next blog.

Q&A with TQ

Q: Have you ever stuffed yourself into a dumbwaiter?

A: Of course! But I was younger and apparently more limber. Not to mention stupid.

Q: Did you make it to the bottom floor?

A: No, thankfully no one pushed the buttons or I may be chopped liver right now.

Q: How many Pez do you have in your collection?

A: About 600, plus all the other stuff like Pez race cars, watches and lip gloss. There's also a Pez costume, but that's fodder for another post. Stay tuned – same Bat Time, same Bat Channel.

What Happens at the Drive-In, Stays at the Drive-In

The human brain is fascinating in that it can forget what you had for breakfast, while remembering the TV theme to Davy Crockett after 40 years ("Davy/Davy Crockett/King of the wild frontier). My brain also managed to remember the name of one of the midnight shows at the drive-in after all these years.

Wanda, the Wicked Warden was on the marquee outside the Hollywood Drive-In in Sandoval, Ill., one day. Driving by – well, I probably was riding by – the title caught my interest. The alliteration was probably what made it stick in my head as much as the visual imagery it conjured up. Those campy, late-night shows always had the best (funniest) titles.

It popped into my head again the other day and I Googled it. Wow – up pops a poster for Wanda the Wicked Warden! I can't believe it! Not only am I not nuts in remembering it, the poster was hilarious.

At Sam's Club last week I got even more drive-in camp: four boxed sets of movies that were no doubt first-run at the drive-in. Remember how horrible those were? Virtually no production values, terrible acting, laughable sets and non-existant plots. They were just something to do when you had nothing to do on those hot summer nights, especially if you're weren't so much interesting in the action on the screen as in the car.

I feel sorry for the folks who missed the days of the drive-in. It was so different than seeing a movie in the theater. Dancing hot dogs and hamburgers on the screen and sometimes dancing on the cars. I saw The Rocky Horror Picture Show for the first time at the drive-in. What a blast! Dancing in the cars, dancing in the aisles, toilet paper flying everywhere ... those were the days.

Friends Famous for Fifteen Minutes

I've been experimenting with some iconic treatments of classic pictures of friends. Two examples are shown here, one of my friend Keith in a musical as Groucho Marx, who is a favorite of his. The other is Di Anna, naturally competitive, shown in a great pose. I did one of my mom from the '40s in her swim suit, but it has been lost on my computer. It may still exist on the home computer.

These got printed out on canvas and wrapped on stretcher bars like any other  piece of artwork – an oil painting, for instance. I think it makes a great presentation. The square one is a great 16x16 size, kind of like a record album cover. The rectangular one is about 22-24 inches long. 

Just wanted to hear what you guys think about 'em.

Twenty-first Century Fox

The other day I realized that I was carrying around my latte and jump drive like a 21st century version of coffee and a cigarette – holding the paper cup in my right hand, with the first two fingers clutching the drive like a cigarette.

A far cry from 1984, when a photographer plopped me down in front of a VDT to take my picture for a journalism scholarship I was awarded. I'd never seen this machine in my life. I wasn't working at the college newspaper yet and other than that there was no computer to be had anywhere. I was scared to death, thinking that I would someday have to work on a computer.

Now technology is a lot of fun and shows up in some really odd places. I even got a CD in my 3-pack of Puffs this morning. "The History of Snot," or something. Perfect for allergy season!

I Get Blamed for Everything I Do, Part 2

Followers of this blog will recall the fire I set a couple of weeks ago in the mailroom. Unbelievably, on Friday I was asked to help in there again. No flames this time, mainly because I was asked to run a different machine.

Oh, yes, I was asked to run the tabbing machine, a machine I had never run before. We were in a hurry, trying to get a job tabbed and addressed and to the Post Office by the end of the day Friday. Too bad we didn't start until about 3:30.

Tabbing went pretty well for a few minutes, then I managed to create a huge jam in the machine. No one had given me the critical info about the location of the "off" switch, so that just made matters worse. See photo at right.

Everything got sucked up in that thing! Stephen cleared the jam for me and got me going again. Another jam, little brother of the first jam. I was then released from duty until the whole problem could be fixed. Needless to say, the job didn't make it to the Post Office on Friday. It's now Monday morning and I think we're about to go back in there to try to finish it. Stay tuned.

Dear Unsolved Mysteries: I Found Everybody

It was a fantastic spring day to be out "blowing the stink off," as my mother would say. Gorgeous day, probably 76 degrees, breezy. Karen and I went down to Art in the Pass to check out the festival and to hang out with our artist pal, Elizabeth Huffmaster.Well, the artists weren't the only ones with sights to see. Baghead lady came by first. 

As soon as I saw her I launched myself out of my chair and ran over to follow her. Apparently she was afraid her hair would get messed up in the wind, so she was clutching a gray shopping bag over her head. OK, so you're afraid your hair will get messed up and you'll look stupid, so you wear a bag on your head. Whatever.

Then this LARGE pink and black thing rolled by and of course I ran after it. Couldn't capture the front of it, which was truly the best view, but you get the idea. Sequined pink tank top, lots of tattoos, pink stiletto heels and a cigarette hanging out of her mouth. That's class, right there.

I figure that you know you came out of the house looking like that, so I'm snapping the pics. And if you're walking around with a bag on your head, well, don't look now because here I am.

Welcome to an occasional feature: Q&A with TQ

Q. When someone asks you if you have any children, what do you say?

A. Yes, I have an 83-year-old.

Q. Who would you like to play you in the movie of your life?

A. Teri Garr. Or maybe Don Knotts

Q. If everbody decided to Wang Chung tonight, would you?

A. Absolutely!

Q. What are some of your favorite book titles?

A. That's easy! "Cancel Your Own Goddamn Subscription," by William F. Buckley and "Give the Bitch Her Chocolate," by Ed Polish and Darren Wotz.

There's Something Wrong with Mother

My intention was to post daily or at least every other day and now my schedule is screwed up right from the start.

I got a "surprise" reminder call from my mother's gastroenterology doctor's office on Tuesday reminding me of her appointment for yesterday that I'd forgotten all about. I hadn't even told her about it. I've taken her to so many doctor appointments and bloodlettings lately that they don't phase me anymore.

So I call her with the news that she's going to yet another doctor she's never heard of and that we're going in just a couple of hours. We trek over there, have a chat with the doc and my mother decides that she doesn't want to have a scope put down her stomach. Fine with me. Then she tells the doctor, "I don't understand ... all these doctors seem like they're just trying to keep me alive."

I thought the poor man was going to bite his lip in half to keep from laughing. I added, "Can you imagine that?" and he started chuckling a bit. So much for that complete waste of an office visit.

When I had taken her to the kidney doctor two weeks ago, she's exasperated and asks me, "Why can't I just die?" I told her we were right next to the railroad tracks and I could set her on the tracks. A train is bound to be along sooner or later. She starts giggling. "Or, we're right next to a busy intersection. You could go play in traffic." Luckily the day got a little lighter after that.

So, I've been too busy answering questions like that to post. Sorry! Hopefully I'm back on track now.

I Get Blamed for Everything I Do

I may as well start off with how I came to start the fire at work.

We had a large direct-mail job that really stretched us to our limits in terms of time and people available to run these postcards

 through the address imprinter and sorted into their proper USPS-approved tubs. Most of the staff would run into the "mail room" when they had a minute or two to try to keep the job going.

I had some free time. I volunteered to help and was greeted warmly by Stephen, who was the father of this job. My position in this mailing operation is always to be the feeder of of the postcards, newsletters, whatever. The delivery end of the equipment, after they go across a

 conveyor, requires a certain set of coordination skills that do not now, nor have I ever possessed. The "snatch & grab" method off emptying the delivery tray doesn't work for me.

So, here I am, faithfully feeding the postcards into their holding bin, when I realize that the computer right next to me is hooked to the internet. The computer's main job is to get the mailing lists to the addressing equipment, but it's sitting there silently, taunting me. I'm standing mindlessly in this windowless room. Key point: Stephen now leaves the room to take a phone call.

Now, I quit paying attention to the delivery end a long time ago. It's not my responsibility and I'm busy reading about a grandma that got a DUI three days in a row because, as she said, "I'm not finished with the box of wine in the trunk yet." I leave the room for a few seconds. Come back and see the smoke billowing out from the mailin

g equipment. Round the corner to where the conveyor is only to find 3- to 4-inch flames under the heat lamp that drying the ink as the postcards go whizzing by.

"Stephen, fire!" This is when it turns into "Abbott & Costello Mail Some Postcards."

I turn off the heat lamp, flip it up and the flames immediately go out. Here comes Stephen, racing in to save the day. In his mad dash, he knocks over 5 or 6 full mailing tubs right outside the door. Seven or eight postcards are burned, scorched and otherwise harmed. Turns out the delivery end piled up so high that it went over the conveyor, causing the postcards to pile up, immobile, on the conveyor. A heat lamp two inches over a piece of paper will cause combustion, as I found out. It will also cause quite a bit of smoke that you'll have to try to get out of the building with a bunch of fans.

Side note: The headline, "I Get Blamed for Everything I Do," is from an obscure Chuck Jones cartoon called "Boyhood Daze" and stars a great little kid named Ralph Phillips. He says that line as he's being sent to his room for yet another typical screw-up, then begins daydreaming about all the things he wants to do and be someday.