Word Pictures From The Week


I sat down - I laughed - I cried - I sighed - I waded waist deep through blogging templates for an hour - after reading THIS.

Changes are coming - give me time.



The tiny man with the Texas Twang had just arrived at the hotel, and proceeded to the front desk to check in.  I knew he was an actor and I'd seen him SOMEWHERE before.. ah, yes!  Boston Legal.. he was GREAT!  A very funny guy.  When he completed his check-in, I headed him off at the pass and introduced myself.  "Hi there sir, welcome to the Palm Springs (hotel I work at), it's nice to see you!  I enjoy your work."  He grinned a tiny grin and seemed genuinely receptive of my enthusiasm.  "Thank you!" he said, and we chatted as I walked him to his room.

I never did say "it was nice meeting you Mr. so and so," because I didn't know his name.  I faked it pretty well though, and I'll bet most people don't know his name - just his face, because he's very recognizable, being so.. tiny.. and all.  I had to return to the front desk and ask Stephanie who the little guy was I'd just escorted.  "Clickity clack" on the computer, and then she said, "Mr. Leslie Jordan."



Thank you, Steph.. wow, he's awesome.



Earlier this week, young George Pozos put in a full day of work, shipping and receiving things in the shipping and receiving department of the hotel.  We'd crossed paths that day and I teased him a bit about his status as employee of the month for May, which only served to embarrass him further.  He was too modest to fully appreciate having that honor bestowed on him in recognition of his attention to duties.  I'd come in for the evening shift, and he was clocking out to head home.  "Have a nice day George," I said.  He didn't.

When he got there, someone shot him.

Seven times.

As I type, it's Sunday and his family and friends are holding a car wash to raise money for funeral services.  This is because 25 year old Hispanic men who help take care of their families don't generally carry life insurance.  I feel like I should be rinsing off a Ford Taurus right now, instead of sitting here.



On a lighter note, uh.. hmm.. there's always helium.



Why do crazy people always have to make it seem like YOU are the crazy one?  The lady in the lobby a few nights ago wanted to see a particular guest but didn't know the room number.  I looked it up and called him.  "Oh NO," he says.. "she's a stalker!  Please get rid of her and whatever you do, make sure she doesn't find out what room I'm in!"  I returned to her with the unfortunate task of having to toss her out.  She screamed, she pleaded, she argued.  I yawned and repeatedly told her she had to go.  She didn't go.  I told her the police would be happy to make her go, if that's what she'd prefer.  She didn't prefer, so she went.

But she called me a crazy asshole on the way out.  I don't think I am.. really, I don't.



Today is Mother's Day.  I miss mine.  She went away one quick and horrible night long ago, and I haven't seen her since, so I ask God to just take care of her and tell her HI, so that I can see her again one day when I'm all done down here.  Her name was Mary Ann Kelly, and she was my mom.  I still love her and I'll always miss her.  Here she is..



..it's a very old pic.  She's been gone for quite a while, so why is it that I feel at times as though she's still around?

Happy Mother's Day, Mom.

        

I was having a real problem there for a while with foreign people snagging my tweety, but it seems to have ended now.

I posted some time ago about Twitter, and how much I like it and that you'd like it too if you'd only give in and use it.  I thought a picture of the cartoon character "Tweety Bird" would be appropriate, so I did the honorable thing.. I did a Google image search and stole it.  I say it's honorable because I actually SAVED IT from whatever website it was on, before uploading it to my blog host and using it in the body of the post.

Someone out there, in some foreign country, and with a VERY POPULAR website or blog, who uses funny looking letters to write, is lazier than I am.. they just hotlink their images, and they did that to my Tweety Bird.

Suddenly I was getting like 3 or 4 hits PER MINUTE just to that image.. meaning that whatever website or blog it was on was calling for it to display.  I use StatCounter to keep track of these things, but I couldn't pinpoint the site using the image because the info just wasn't there.  But the various ISPs that called for it all had funny letters below them that looked like this - Görsel küçültülmüş olabilir ve telif hakkı korunuyor olabili - so they all came from someplace where people keep goats tied up out front, or possibly even in their huts.. but I doubt they let them lie on the sofa.  I guess people in those goat countries are really fascinated by little yellow cartoon birds because, I'm serious, the hits rolled in at about 2 to 3 per minute, 24 hours a day.  I mentioned to coffeesister that I wished I was getting that many actual hits to my blog from real blog readers, to which she responded, "No you don't, because your head would explode."  Yeah, she's got a point.

I solicited some advice from twittererrresrs on my twitter thingy, and most of them suggested what I'd thought of already.. "replace the Tweety Bird Pic with something really raunchy and give it the same name."  So I Googled "goat with huge erection" and actually got back several images to use, but my stupid host won't allow me to do that because when I upload a graphic it amends an additional number set to it, so that tweetybird.jpg becomes 003464tweetybird.jpg.  I ended up just changing the name of the pic altogether, from tweetybird.jpg to tb2.jpg or something, and they came back and snagged it again, so I had to take it off completely.

But the hits just kept on rolling.. for DAYS.. and it messed up my stats, rendering them completely useless.  Goat people were after the Tweety Bird en masse, but not getting it.. it'd return a "no image found".. but it didn't stop until precisely 6:32PM PST yesterday, which must have been the moment someone took it off whatever site that was, or Google did something about it.

Why on earth would someone just hotlink a pic anyway?  If the hosting site changes it to a "goat with huge erection" because they don't host with a STUPID HOST that prevents such things, and you have an aroused goat showing up where the cartoon pic for your kiddie website is supposed to be, you could be in trouble.  You might get lawsuits and angry parents.  You might get kicked off YOUR hosting service and end up on the street begging for a host from just anyone.  No, it's much better to just steal images outright by SAVING THEM and then UPLOADING THEM to your own host.. that way you're guaranteed to not have any unexpected porn goats and you have greater control of your content, to which I can only add..

..Görsel küçültülmüş olabilir ve telif hakkı korunuyor olabili!

        

George has a lot going for him.  Good looks, intelligence, health and a decent sense of right and wrong.  So much so, that he's managed to stay out of gangs and keep his life on track despite some terribly negative influences around him.  I know he doesn't live in the greatest neighborhood, but his family is a close-knit one, so that helped give him a moral compass while he was growing up. 

I don't know him that well - he works in the supply room of the hotel where I'm employed as a manager-on-duty.  Our social contact is limited to me giving him his keys two mornings a week when he clocks in.  He finds me in the security office where the keys to everything are kept and, after exchanging the usual pleasant "good morning" with each other, I toss him the ring of jingly metal so he can rush off to ship and receive things all day long.  He's so good at it, and has such a good attitude about a job that most would consider boring and laborious, that he was named employee of the month for May and a little plaque commemorating that is on display in the lobby.  Employees AND hotel guests can see this plaque because it's posted right beside the main lobby elevator, but I'm fairly certain it's an embarrassment to him.  He's not the type to want to be employee of the month, or enjoy its perks and privileges.. he's too modest.  Knowing this, I couldn't resist a little tease when I saw him in passing last week, so I ordered everyone in the kitchen area to "stand aside, the EMPLOYEE OF THE MONTH IS COMING THROUGH!"  He just grinned a little and I THINK he blushed, but it's hard to tell on a Hispanic.

George is really 'Jorge', but he doesn't care for the Spanish version of his name, opting for 'George' instead.  Some Hispanics would say he's dissing his cultural heritage but I think he looks at it as more of an attempt to blend in with everyone.  He's that kind of guy.. he doesn't try to isolate himself, he makes an effort to fit in and be a part of what's going on.  I'd say that he has a real heart and caring for people, but what do I know?  As I said, I don't know him that well at all.

I was on the job yesterday evening when I got the news.. George had been shot to death shortly after leaving work only an hour before.

I was stunned.  We all were.  The kitchen staff was unusually quiet, as were the waiters tending to guests in the hotel restaurant.  The news had spread quickly, and I even found the front desk supervisor making a vain attempt to blink back tears and be cheerful as she checked in a new arrival.  The ladies liked George, not just for his striking appearance, but his manners and respect.  He treated them like ladies.  He treated everyone with respect and dignity.

As I type, "further developments in last night's shooting of a young local man" keep appearing on the news and I turn my attention to it with a heartsick interest.  They say that he had come to the aid of a young woman, possibly his brother's girlfriend, as she was being harassed by another young Hispanic man.  This was at the apartment building where George lived with his family, and it seems the young perpetrator had come there to seek out the girl and make trouble.  A fight ensued, and George whupped the guy's butt, so the guy goes to his car and reappears with a gun, shooting a fleeing George in the back SEVEN TIMES.

What a fucking COWARD.

As of this writing, he's still out there somewhere.  He fled right after emptying the clip into George, and the cops haven't found him yet.  But they will.. it's all over the news today and leads keep developing.

I'll be at the hotel Saturday morning and, at around seven, I'll be issuing the supply room keys to someone else.

It won't be easy


.

             Godspeed, George

        

..AVRIL LAVIGNE on ACID.. what say you?

        

A couple of years ago, coffeesister and I were wandering around SECOND LIFE®, bumping into things and talking in bubbles.  For you who are new to the interwebs because you just arrived from Pluto, SECOND LIFE® is a virtual reality world where you get to turn into a cartoon character until experienced users, meaning those who've been there for a week, start to guffaw (in bubbles) and poke fun at you for not looking more "real" by texturing, smoothing and polishing your "avatar".  Soon, you get tired of being called a "NOOB", especially after three whole days on there (come ON!) - so you buy hair and some great clothes and a new "skin" and accessories.  You take all of these things that don't really exist, which you've paid good money for, and put them on your "avatar", which doesn't really exist either.  Then your "avatar" wanders around in SECOND LIFE® going in and out of buildings that don't exist and talking in bubbles with multitudes of other "avatars" who also don't exist.

For the record, I hold SECOND LIFE® personally responsible for us living in Palm Springs, which is neither a good thing or a bad thing.. it's just a thing.

I was having some employment problems back then, as in "not having any employment", and yet I spent hours.. nay, days.. nay MONTHS, wandering around SECOND LIFE® in the form of my "avatar".  His name was DAVIS ROCHEFORT and he was a good looking, hip, young guy, which leaves one to wonder (as they wander) how he happened to be MY "avatar"?  Well, that's the idea of SECOND LIFE®.  You can be anything you WANT to be, so I opted for a decent looking artisan type with muscles in all the right places, unlike his RL (REAL LIFE) counterpart, whose muscles are located exclusively in his dreams.



Studmuffin DAVIS ROCHEFORT, hovering
in the air alongside his LIGHTHOUSE.

Davis was swank, and svelt and CLASSY, and he'd wander around those non-existent buildings and lands for days.. nay, MONTHS on end, while his RL counterpart sat at a desk working a mouse and keyboard in close union to give everyone the impression that Davis was REAL, because HEY.. it's so easy to be fooled in SECOND LIFE® and start thinking that THIS is the dream and the virtual world is reality.  You see, that's what happened to the RL RhodesTer, who spent so much time there that RL job opportunities fell through, and so he and coffeesister got kicked out of their RL apartment and had to move into a RL sleazy motel where they didn't HAVE interwebs, and there they stayed, for almost a year.  Finally, an RL friend offered to let them use his RL house in Palm Springs for a while, so they moved there in an RL moving truck and they're STILL there.  Only not in the original RL house because the RL friend got all weird, so they moved into an RL apartment and RhodesTer got a job at an RL hotel.



Sexy SECOND LIFE® Diva, DORIAN DEIGAN,
on the upper deck of her BEACH MANSION.

Since things are going pretty well, and RhodesTer and coffeesister LIKE Palm Springs, they don't blame SECOND LIFE® for anything bad.  They just don't go into it and wander around talking in bubbles anymore.

Now, here's the reason I'm bringing all of this up today..

In SECOND LIFE® there are these people called LINDENS, who run the place.  This is because SECOND LIFE® was developed by Linden Labs, and the employees of Linden Labs run around in SECOND LIFE® doing things with their little "avatars" and, in order to maintain anonymity and yet project authority, they all just go by the last name of LINDEN so that when they come around, you know they're a SECOND LIFE® big shot.  One of the biggest of the big shots is a guy named TORLEY LINDEN.  His name was EVERYWHERE in that virtual world.  When something new came around and they told you about it, it was TORLEY LINDEN who either designed it, implemented it, approved it or told you about it himself.. sometimes all of the above.  I never talked to him in SECOND LIFE®.. that is to say, DAVIS ROCHEFORT never talked to TORLEY LINDEN in SECOND LIFE®, but Davis certainly was made aware of Torley's influence on a daily basis for weeks, nay.. MONTHS on end.

So, a few weeks ago RhodesTer (that's me) told you about TWEETING on TwiTTeR, and I (RhodesTer) won't go into the technical details of Tweeting again (you're welcome), but just know that new people show up as "followers" of RhodesTer every day.  They've somehow found him/ME online, either through this blog or the public tweet stream, and opted to follow me/HIM.

Last night, I (RhodesTer) got an email notice that stated "Torley is now following you on TwiTTeR".

HUH!  How about THAT!  Now, I didn't even make the connection at first, but I clicked on over to see if this "Torley" person was someone I'd like to follow in turn, and lo and behold, it turned out to be the SECOND LIFE® big shot, TORLEY LINDEN!!

TORLEY LINDEN had found me on the webs and opted to FOLLOW ME on TwiTTeR?  HUH??

So I composed a direct note to him with TwiTTeR, and sent it.  Now, here's the thing.. TwiTTeR won't let you send a direct note to someone who's NOT following you.  This keeps popular people from being stalked.  My note to Torley was declined, and a little TwiTTeR message informed me that Torley wasn't following me after all.

HUH!

So, I had messaged coffeesister a dazzling, awe-inspiring message from the hotel while I was working, which expressed the sheer amazement that TORLEY LINDEN had somehow found me and opted to FOLLOW ME, but it was for nothing.  I had to tell her a few minutes later that he'd evidently changed his mind and recanted his.. uh.. follow.

Well, at least I still have @CaliLewis, who is the biggest interwebs big shot that I can think of who follows MY TWEETS, along with @MenwithPens, aka James, and his partner @vegaspenman.  BUT, most importantly of all, is my cat @ShadowSillybutt.  Since cats are notorious for being aloof and uncaring, I can't express how HONORED I am that @ShadowSillybutt would follow ME, RhodesTer, on TwiTTeR.

Nice knowin' ya, Torley.. thanks for droppin' in.



During the early days of their SECOND LIFE® adventures,
Davis and Dorian sit astride a sideways BED on a PIER.
This was called "learning which controls do what".


ATTENTION!

This came in less than 24 hours later..

@RhodesTer: Here I am now! Reading your blog...
Twitter burped on me the other day and lost some follows.
 :\ Thx for bringing it up! 
Torley, about 2 hours ago
from web in reply to RhodesTer


So, like..

Nevermind.

        

We have borrowed RhodesTer for the evening.. again.. to complete a series of tests that we implemented the first time around.  We are QUITE fascinated with his brain, and therefore we're trying to extract particular DNA strands for the purpose of behavioral modification in our domesticated housepets.

Just before he went under and we inserted the probes, RhodesTer requested that we contact JAMES at MEN WITH PENS to have him fill in.  We did so, and the title of this guest posting is, "How to know that you're human."  We assume James is not talking to us.

ZORQ, the Magnificate of Zenus 12-46.t3

When I was asked for a guest post for the illustrious blog of The Rhodester himself, I was both thrilled and worried. I mean, really. What sort of people read this blog?

"Oh, come now," I could almost hear him snort. "You must have something in the archives." Well, no, as a matter of fact, I didn't. I'm a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of guy.

That was a problem. My pants weren't flying tonight. And since the Stanley Cup has already been written about, I had the feeling that finding the right subject to write on would be a challenge.

That's a rather frequent problem for guest posters. While we who do it on a regular basis seem to pull great topics from our sleeves as smoothly as if they were aces, the truth is that when you're put on the spot, you freeze – no matter who you are.

I suppose that's why celebrity bloggers can allow themselves the luxury of appearing to be too busy to do guest posting, but that's a story for another day.

What I believe, though, is that when someone asks for a guest post – with good, solid valid reason that I feel is worthy of my attention and time – then I should be gracious enough to accept. And I do, willingly.

You see, I haven't forgotten where I came from and what it took for me to get here.

I haven't forgotten that while big blogs may be quite auspicious and rake in good cash for their owners, the meek shall inherit the earth. That's what Sting said, and he was a man of wise words. I think.

The point of the matter (made somewhat vague by a glass of good Italian wine) is that whether I might be a celibriblogger of auspicious heights (raking in very little cash from my blog) is irrelevant. I am human first and friend foremost.

So when the call came, I answered…

…and then I majestically fumbled for a brilliant topic to write about, thus showing that I'm just as human as anyone else.

Cheers, everyone

        

Greetings, BlogReaders ("BreaDers"?  "BleaDers")..  Today this message hails from the Hookah & Coffee Lounge known as IGNITION in Palm Springs, California.  I'm not smoking a HOOKAH, because I'm not THAT cool, but I am having an ice-blended mocha Frappe as coffeesister sips a cappuccino by my side and we both avail ourselves of the free WiFi connection that's so generously offered.

We spent the night at the hotel of my employ, because I've been spending oodles of extra time there due to the calamities of a coworker called Billy; a decent fellow who's been smacked in the face with a glove and challenged to a duel by Sir Adversity.  It would seem that if anything could go wrong for anyone, it has for him - I'll spare you the details, which you'd thank me for doing if you knew them - but if you knew them it'd be a moot point - so what are we talking about again?  Oh yeah, Billy.

I really like Billy, and I'm sorry to see him going through crap.  He's a Vietnam Vet, former Cook County (Chicago) Sheriff's Deputy and all-around badass.  He's not one to get on the wrong side of, so I've tried to stay on his right side, which doesn't literally mean his RIGHT side, because you can stand to the right OR left of him and still be on his right side, as in CORRECT side.. and you can stand on his left or right and be on his wrong side, which is not something I'd want.  I don't recommend standing in front of him either, if you're on his wrong side.  Behind him might be okay, as long as he doesn't see you, so just be really quiet.  He's a bit hearing impaired due to bombs, guns and shit like that.



Billy when things were better - out in the hotel
valet area a few weeks ago

Because of Billy's calamity, which I can't tell you about and you don't want to hear it anyway, we (as in coffeesister and I) were given a room to stay in last night because the Rooms Director at the hotel felt sorry for me working all those hours, and I'm also really nice to her.  Also, there were about 200 rooms available because a huge group had checked out that morning and almost nobody checked in, so do the math.  ALSO, I begged.  and pleaded.  She gave in.

This was my view from the balcony this morning.  I took these pics with my little cellphone camera, so please rest assured there's nothing wrong with your eyes, the photos really are blurry and smeary.  I apologize ahead of time for making you squint..

   

Isn't it lovely?  This is springtime in the desert, when all of the rocks are in bloom and the lizards tweet tweet as couples stroll hand in hand drenched in buckets of sweat.  It's about ninety-something degrees ALREADY in Palm Springs, and it's not even MAY yet.  The huge building with blue trim across the way is a spa, resort and casino cleverly named "SPA-RESORT-CASINO".  No, really.. check it out.  They have a restaurant inside too, but I'm not sure what the name of it is.

Well, I must go.. I have lots to do, but free WiFi with good company should make it all a bit easier to pull off.

        

At times, I've been accused of NAME-DROPPING on this blog.  To that I say, I don't!  I just lay them down gently.  Then it's up to you to step through the minefield of celebrity and fame, and if you trip over one or two in the process, well, who's fault is that?  Can I help it that I used to schmooze with the rich and famous?  I can?  Okay, you're right.  But still, sometimes I tell stories about it and they're almost interesting, and I need to put SOMETHING on here besides "today I rode my bike to work and it was a pretty day and the lady on the bus stop bench had a dog."

I'm wondering though, if it counts as NAME-DROPPING if you talk about a famous pile of metal rather than a person.  You see, JAMES at MEN WITH PENS has hired me to do some freelance writing work (YAY!), so we've been exchanging notes and ideas via email.  Sometimes we digress.  Yesterday, we were talking about how to give a first-person narrative with strong anchor phrases and keywords, but somehow got onto the subject of Hollywood.  That happens with me a lot, and that's when I get accused of name-dropping.  James hasn't accused me of it though, yet, but he should because I couldn't help showing him up.  I always do that and it's a bad, BAD habit.  If you saw Steven Spielberg in a mall, I hung out with him on the set of an Oscar nominated film.  If you saw Muhammed Ali fight way back when, I spent half the day with him on a security detail.  If you spotted Gwyneth Paltrow in Sardi's during your trip to LA, I once tried to kill her.

It never ends.

What happened yesterday, is that I'd just mentioned something about somebody - I can't remember WHO, because there are just SO MANY - and James wrote back the following..


Well, like I could leave THAT alone!  I could do better, so I wrote back..


So now you see how annoying I can be.  But I was wondering if it counts when it's a big-ass metal cup instead of a person.

I'd better be careful when it comes to James, though.  He's my new boss.  Did I mention that he hired me to WRITE?

YAY!

It's kind of hard though, because I'm finding out that when I'm extolling the virtues of the new Mercedes C63, I can't mention lesbians, clowns or monkeys.  It's quite the challenge.

        

I recently came across one of my favorite webpeople, Cali Lewis from GeekBriefTV, on a site called ChickiPedia.. which is an obvious takeoff on WikiPedia, but it's about.. uh.. chicks.  Not the little peeping kind that run around all fuzzy and stuff, but the sexy human kind.  And although Cali certainly is all that, the profile someone posted about her doesn't do her justice.  When I pointed it out to Cali and her husband Neal, they not only hadn't known about it, but went on to say that most of the info was wrong.  It doesn't do her justice because she's smart, informative and she has a great personality - but basically the site is all about her curvy nature.

So, since it's like Wikipedia.. I offered to edit it for them, and put some more relevant stuff on there, like WHERE you can get her fabulous PODCAST and BLOG.

But, alas!  The tacky info, like what her freakin' measurements are, is mandatory!  I'm not crazy about posting (or being a part of posting) my friend Cali's measurements online, so I had to go back on my offer to edit it, and just leave it as is.  I'd certainly be adverse to anyone doing that with coffeesister, especially if they didn't even get it right.  Please note my refusal to link to it also, and act accordingly by not giving them the traffic, k?

As a "make it up to Cali and Neal" gesture, I'm reposting a review I did of Geekbrief from last year, only it's touched up a bit to drag it into 2008..




What’s better than watching an attractive, vibrant young woman deliver pertinent tech news in a snappy, savvy manner while being goofy and giggly, but at the same time smart enough so as not to shake your faith in her credibility?

Nothing, that’s what.

Okay, I can think of a a few things that are better, but when it comes to the everyday "sit down at your computer and peruse your daily perusals" sort of thing, nothing beats the podcast provided by Cali Lewis and husband Neal Campbell at Geekbrief TV. These two play it smart – Cali does her thing in front of the camera while Neal stays behind it, shooting the video and making the occasional persnickity comment. They both know that we want to see her and, although I’m sure he’s a fine fellow and I’d definitely borrow his lawnmower if they lived next door, Cali is the spice that tops off a recipe for delicious tech news, served piping hot and on time or your money back. By the way, it’s free, so don’t get too excited about that last part.

I get it downloaded daily at iTunes in the podcast section, but you could just visit their website and check it out. If you’re like me, and by that I don’t mean you live in Palm Springs and your back hurts, but I do mean that your experience with home grown podcasts has not exactly been rewarding and you’d venture into this with a degree of trepidation, then I don’t blame you. But trust ME, your old pal RhodesTer, when I say that in spite of the fact that these two had no prior experience in doing a show of any kind and they just decided one day to purchase the necessary equipment and start podcasting tech news from their living room, it’s really very entertaining. During the early days of it, I kind of felt like they had to move the coffee table out of the way and put the cat out before each taping, which added to the charm of the whole thing.  They've progressed to a state of absolute professionalism though, with just a bit of bumbling still thrown in for good measure.

Cali is nice to look at, which I’ve already mentioned, but it doesn’t mean that the tech news isn’t just as informative. She can really sell something if she likes it enough, so I’m often tempted to rush out and purchase whatever gizmo she just trumpeted the merits of, then treat her to a lunch of fish tacos to show my appreciation. I don’t know who edits the outtakes that get tacked onto the end of each podcast – either she or that Neal guy, or both – but they’re darned funny. She’s a natural comic, and I’d say to her “you oughta be on TV!” but she’s on my PC, so that’s a step in the right direction. Hopefully, some day soon, some bigshot Producer will put her in a similar show on a network and we can all Tivo her.

OOPS!  My bad, GeekbriefTV is ALREADY available on TIVO, as a download!  Go Cali!

By the way, do you TWITTER?  You can actually FOLLOW CALI and not get arrested!  Go to http://twitter.com/calilewis

        

 ...or so I was told.  That's what Chris the other Bellman said, but I should have remembered Chris saying, "I don't know ANYTHING about the Internet, man!"  He admitted to having never owned a computer, and then he asked me if Apple was the company that made Macs.

I have this old laptop at the hotel that someone gave to coffeesister, and she's been letting me use it.  When I say old, I mean, like four years.  It's an ancient Sony Vaio that sports the latest in wireless technology courtesy of the guy who sent it to us, but all of the other workings are SO four years ago.  It's low on ram, low on processing power, and low on class.  But it works well enough, except that the screen is a bit washed out.  I tried to find the setting to give it more contrast but ended up hopelessly mired in the muck of miscellaneous choices, none of which seemed to apply to what I wanted.  While sharing my dilemma with Chris, he suggested that I should have Daniel look at it, because Daniel "has been to school for all that stuff, man!  He knows all about computers."  So I asked Daniel to look at it.

It was in a meeting room that wasn't being used, where I had it sitting all booted up and everything, when he walked in.  I let him sit down in front of it, and I told him to have at it while I watched.  I'd described the problem and he agreed that some of the text being displayed looked washed out and therefore kind of hard to read, so he went into properties and started fiddling around with it.  It took me about ten seconds to realize..

..HE DIDN'T HAVE A CLUE WHAT HE WAS DOING.

This is because he went straight to the DISPLAY tab after choosing Properties, and then what did he do?  He changed the Windows XP default color scheme from blue to silver, saved it and then went back to the main display, which he gazed at with a puzzled expression for a few seconds before saying, "Well, THAT didn't help any."

He's a better bellman than computer tech - honest!

So, does anyone know how to increase contrast with Windows XP?  Or am I stuck with a washed out LCD screen, because it's old and that's JUST THE WAY IT IS, SO STOP BEING SUCH A LOLLIPOP, RHODESTER!

        

Today, I'd like to tell you one of those 'small world stories' - the kind that, when you get to the end of it, everyone says, "Gosh, what a small world!"  It's one of my personal stories that come to mind whenever someone tells their own 'small world story', about running into a long-lost cousin in a Toledo deli while on a business trip, or their old high school gym coach, who's now a drag-queen in West Hollywood.

This particular story starts back in the eighties.  Actually, the entire thing takes place in the eighties but the first part is a bit earlier in the decade - 1984.  I'd finished up a 4 year Navy hitch in San Diego a few years earlier and stuck around, living at various addresses with various roommates, including 'Andy The Greek'.  He wasn't actually from Greece but his parents were, so he was a first generation Greek/American who spoke fluent Greek to his Mama during the weekly telephone calls home to Boston.  His parents lived in the Greek section of town, where papa owned a Greek restaurant and had taught Andy how to cook.  During my stay with him, I was introduced to Spanakopita, Baklava, Lemon Chicken and other savory salivation-making Greek specialties that Andy whipped up every weekend.



San Diego.. I miss it almost as much as Andy's cooking

We rented a duplex from Mrs. Green, a Japanese widow who'd been married to an American WW2 veteran, thus the generic American name.  Andy and I each had our own room in the right side of the place, while Mrs. Green puttered about in the left side, all by herself.. a lonely, chatty widow who looked out for us 'boys'.  It wasn't uncommon to answer a knock at the door and find her standing there with a big smile and some kind of Japanese treats she'd made.  In turn, Andy would share some of his Greek delicacies with her - it was all very international.

One time she told us of her late husband.  Mr. Green had been a Navy flier who was held by the Japanese as a POW until the war was over.  It was never clear whether this was for months or years, but the interesting part about it is that's where they'd met - she was there as a nurse who looked after the well-being of the prisoners.  After the war, he'd been released and returned to the states for a few years, but decided he couldn't live without her, so he went and found her.  They married and he returned home with her, settling in San Diego because he'd originally been stationed there.  How's THAT for a romantic story, ladies?

Okay, so back to Andy The Greek.. One day he bought a jacked up monster Toyota truck with a chrome roll-bar and four wheel drive because he wanted to go four-wheeling somewhere, but he never did.  He just drove this huge truck around the streets and freeways of San Diego for the next year, guzzling hundreds of gallons of gas, which was okay because gas was about a dollar a gallon then and we all weren't so 'green' as we are now.  I don't think anyone gave Andy a hard time for environmental reasons, but they did give him a hard time for driving a butt-ugly truck.  He was still proud of it though, for Lord only knows what reason, and asked me to take a picture of him standing beside it one day while it was parked out in front of the duplex.  I did, and I kept a copy after giving him one, and as much as I'd love to post it here I'm afraid I can't because it was lost long ago.

I still had it in 1987 though.  It was in a photo album, and I was showing that album to Cindy, a petite brunette whom I'd dated a bit after moving to Sacramento.  I lived up there for a year, having taken a job at a local radio station, and Cindy came over on one of my days off to hang out.  I'd rented a room from Paul and Pearl, a fabulous couple in their fifties who stayed on as friends of mine for many years after I'd left their house, but I'm afraid Cindy wasn't a keeper.  She was fun to look at, but not so deep - think Mila Kunis' character of "Jackie" from "That 70's Show" and you've nailed her.  By the way, I never did.  But we did flip through that photo album that day while Paul looked on, and Cindy was particularly interested in my photos from San Diego because she'd lived there for a few years.  When we got to the one of Andy The Greek standing in front of the duplex next to his monster truck, her eyes got wider than they normally were, which was REALLY wide, and she said, "OH MY GOD!"

She placed her hand over her chest and said it again, but with TWO exclamation points..  "OH MY GOD!!"

Paul and I looked at each other with the same puzzled expression that you have right now.

"What?"  I asked, "That's my old roommate Andy.. did you know him or something?"  I was thinking, "My word, this chick's dated everyone.. do I really want a piece of that?"

But it wasn't about Andy, or the truck.. it was the duplex.  She'd lived in it.

"I lived in that HOUSE!" she said, which was not entirely accurate because it was a DUPLEX and not a house; I told you she was kind of dumb.

"Oh, Really?"  I wasn't sure I believed her.. she'd proven to be a bit of a drama queen before, and she loved getting attention.  The picture only showed Andy, the truck and most of the duplex, but it didn't show the address, so this next part cinched it..

"YES!  It's on 41st street and there's a donut shop up on the corner and across from that is a Unitarian church!  I'm telling you, I lived there in nineteen seventy eight, with my boyfriend, and we sold drugs out of that house and this is just too fucking WEIRD, dude!"

Paul looked at me and grinned.  "Dave, I think she's got ya.. she lived there!"

She went on to tell us that the reason she and her boyfriend had to move out was that the place had been sold.. to a Japanese woman and her husband, who had plans to move into it and rent out the other side.  Cindy and her boyfriend had lived in the MRS. GREEN side of it, and she accurately described the interior to me - it'd been built in the fifties and was pretty distinct.  She even remembered the day Mr. and Mrs. Green came in and looked around as potential buyers, because she had to tidy up and hide all the weed and shit.

So, out of the millions of homes, apartments and duplexes in the San Diego area, this girl I met in Sacramento, which is about 500 miles away, had lived in the same one I did.

But she did agree that Andy's truck was butt-ugly.. turns out the girl had some class after all.



Mila Kunis/Cindy in Sacramento - so NOT butt ugly.

        

I was just trying to update my long neglected YOUTUBE profile
and, after putting in the new information and hitting "enter",
I got this error message..

Sorry, something went wrong.

A team of highly trained monkeys has been dispatched to deal with this situation.
Please report this incident to customer service.

Also, please include the following information in your error report:

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9sE3

        

I'm a bit enamored of this Entrecard thing.  I know it's not going to lure visitors to this blog in droves, nor is it going to plaster my advertisement all over the interweb, but I think it's fun all the same.  LORNA, stay with me, darn-it.. where are you going?  Get BACK here!  Good.. thank you.  Honestly, I know I JUST DID a post on that whole tweety thing a few days ago, and here I am again, trumpeting about some other new-fangled interweb gadget, but seriously.. it's a fun little gizmo.  I hesitate to say "addictive" because bad drugs, sexual perversions and gambling are addictive, and this isn't like any of those.  For one thing, it's free and, as far as I know, you can't get arrested for using it.  You might get scoffed at a little, like the sexual perversion people, but that'd only be from the Dooces of the blogonosphere, who are too high and mighty to use silly crap like Entrecard.  It's so beneath them they'd have to rent shovels to get at it.  But you and I don't, and DARRELL PROUSE or whatever his name is at that blog about blogging doesn't, which is really refreshing because he gets like a million hits a day, yet he's not too high and mighty to scoff at Entrecard and blow off invitations to breakfast with other bloggers if he were to ever visit Palm Springs, you KNOW WHAT I MEAN, DOOCE?  Darrell, or possibly Darren, uses it on his million hit a day blog, so that's some kind of validation there, if you ask me.

It's just a website that you sign up on, and they ask you to make a little 125 pixel by 125 pixel square advertisement, which will become your official 'entrecard'.  This will run on other people's blogs, so you want to make it kind of interesting, if possible.  Here's mine..

By the way, I should confess that that isn't ME holding a coffee cup and smiling in the little picture, it's actually HUGH BEAUMONT, an actor best known for his portrayal of Ward Cleaver on the old series "Leave It To Beaver."  I relate to Ward Cleaver on many levels; particularly when it comes to wearing suits, working in an office, coming home to a nice, home-cooked meal and dispensing wisdom to my two wonderful boys every morning at the breakfast table.  I don't do any of those things, but in my head I imagine that it'd be pretty cool, and someday I'm going to buy a suit and rent some boys to find out.

Getting back to the entrecard, I'm pretty good at Photoshop.  Not REALLY good, as in making Dennis Kucinich look like Brad Pitt or anything, but good enough to design a little square advertisement.  Unfortunately, my Photoshop won't run on this computer - it has something to do with lack of memory, and the more memory it lacks, the more I remember my old laptop, which died one day in a tragic CPU fire.  It ran Photoshop just fine, right up until the day it suddenly didn't run anything anymore because of flames and smoke.  The computer I'm currently using is a desktop unit that coffeesister used for a couple of years, but someone gave her a laptop, so she gave me this one and it works fine, except for the Photoshop thing.  So I have to farm out small graphic requests like the little Entrecard thingy, and on this occasion I turned to my old blogging pal MCF, because he does graphic design for a living somewhere out there on the other coast.  We've never met, but he's cool and does a nice job on graphic stuff, so he put that text on my little coffee drinking Ward Cleaver picture, and sent it back to me.  In turn, I told him I'd give him a plug, so here it is..



I should be clear and state that I program all of my links to open in separate windows, so you can go along and just open them all willy nilly and read them when you're done here.  Hopefully you have lots and lots of RAM.  I should also point out that I'm not plugging MCF so you can hit him up to make your entrecard.. he just did it as a favor to me, so you'd probably do well just to visit his blog and leave a comment or two, but don't ask him to make you any.  He's WAAAY too busy being a Mysterious Cloaked Figure, which is what MCF stands for.  What, you thought it was something else?

Okay, so back to Entrecard.. I need to tell you what it does now and why it's fun, and I need to tell you quickly because I'm fast approaching the part where my readers nod off into a puddle of drool if I don't get to the point.

There was this thing called "Link Exchange" that was around for a while, and it might still be but I wouldn't know because I'm too lazy to google it.  But I haven't seen a Link Exchange banner in a long time, so I think they've gone the way of pets.com and stuff like that.  You'd make this ad banner that was a particular size, and it'd show up on other people's websites, and theirs would show up on yours.  This was way back in the nineties, so they used a complicated system of abacuses, blackboards and stones to figure out the mathematical formulas for how many banners would display over a certain period.  Well, Entrecard does the same thing, but we have computers now, and they have these really sophisticated algorithms built right into them to figure it all out.  By the way, if there was an algorithm to track global warming, would it actually be a AL-GORE-RHYTHM?  Just curious.

So, you have this little entrecard advertisement, and you visit other blogs that have one too, and you 'drop' your little card on theirs.  I know, it sounds sexy as hell, doesn't it!  Often, they'll return the favor and drop theirs on yours.  So you drop cards on each other every day.  Now, the card you drop is just telling the blog owner that you've dropped by and felt them up, so to advertise on their blog takes a little more effort.  All of the instructions are at the Entrecard website, so I'm not going to tell you how to do it, but suffice to say that all you do is apply to advertise and they either accept it or reject it, and, if they accept it, your little card will show up in a few days for all of their readers to see.  It'll stay there for a whole 24 hours, pointing people to YOU while answering questions and taking phone messages.  It won't do your laundry though.

It's free to drop cards on blogs, but the advertisement bit costs you 'credits'.  Don't worry, these credits don't cost you any real money.. you get them by dropping cards and when other people drop cards on you.  It's kind of like getting little gold stars on the fridge when you do the dishes, but with THESE little gold stars you can pay someone to display a picture of Ward Cleaver for an entire day.  I've heard that you actually CAN buy entrecard credits on EBAY, but why would you want to spend a few bucks for a thousand credits when all you have to do is visit a thousand blogs each day?  It only takes like 10-15 hours if you whip through really fast and don't take any coffee or bathroom breaks.

Oh, speaking of that.. one complaint I've heard is that a lot of people drop in just to drop a card, and then move on without so much as reading a single word, looking at a single picture or viewing a single video on your blog.  That's fine by me, because I still get a credit when they do, and the hit still registers on my STATCOUNTER, which makes me feel all warm and fuzzy as long as I don't pay attention to the 'length of visit' indicator.

Overall, I've just had fun with Entrecard, dropping cards all over and having them dropped on me, and watching my stats and credits fluctuate daily according to how many visitors I've had and cards I've dropped.  Granted, it's more fun to go mountain climbing in the Himalayas, scuba diving in Australia or clubbing in Paris, but since I'm stuck here I might as well just spend my days watching little flashy baubles on my screen.  I like Entrecard.

Okay Lorna, you can go now.. thank you.

        

Word Pictures From The Week

It was a lovely evening in the desert so, having just clocked in at midnight for my shift at the resort, I decided to take an outdoor stroll of the grounds for a look around.  Oh NO!  Two people are kicking it in the hot tub by the pool and they're not really supposed to be there - the area closed at 10:00pm, but as long as they're quiet I don't have a problem with it.  I tell them this as I approach and give them a friendly greeting.  They smile and thank me.  We get to talking.  I'm enjoying this conversation with the sophisticated older gentleman and the lovely young woman, and I can't help but think what a lucky bastard he is.. what DOES she see in him?  They seem to be enjoying the conversation too, that is UNTIL I ask how long they've "been together."  I'm met with puzzled expressions - the kind that indicate to me within the first few microseconds after something has left my mouth that maybe it shouldn't have.  The lovely young woman says, "Dude.. this is my DAD."

The sophisticated older gentleman and the lovely young woman enjoyed a complimentary breakfast in the hotel restaurant the very next morning.



Coffeesister and I have ALL KINDS of processed snack foods in BIG BAGS that were left over from the hotel event that the big food company sponsored.  When the event was over, I was given peanut butter cookies, peanuts, cashews, crackers, Lorna Doones, Oreos, chips, jerky, etc.. and even though we've consumed quite a bit of it, there's still a lot left laying around in huge bags in the kitchen, and we are SO SICK OF IT ALL we just want to eat something raw and natural now, like a tree or something.



That guy in the big, grumbly truck with the chrome wheels and roll bar and the bass thumping and his arm around a pretty girl thinks he's all that..

..he's not.



There's a house that's no longer lived in which sits in downtown Palm Springs, right on the main drag next to some other historical buildings.  It's called "The Cornelia White House", not because it's white, which it's not, but because a lady named Cornelia White lived in it long ago.  Cornelia was one of the early Palm Springs settlers who lived here around the turn-ish of the century, and she's been dead longer than I've been alive, so we've never met, but I've read about her and I think she's hot.  She bought that house from an old guy named Welwood Murray, who built it using railroad ties.  I'm not sure I can even LIFT a railroad tie, so I find Mr. Murray to be rather impressive too, but not in THAT way.

I knew about Cornelia and the fact that the house was made of railroad ties because of a little bronze plaque mounted on the front of it, which is the only thing to read while waiting for the bus downtown, so I've read it a lot.  But it wasn't until I read a book about the history of Palm Springs that I found out the railroad ties came from an old track that was laid between a place called "Smoketree Ranch" and the stage line station, and that they had bought two San Francisco cable cars and ran them the four mile distance between the ranch and the station for a whole two months.  For some inexplicable reason that nobody can remember, most likely because they're all dead now, the venture failed, and the tracks were ripped out.  Some of the wooden ties were sold to Mr. Murray to make the house, and the two cable cars were left standing in the desert until they rotted away and the iron undercarriages of both were covered in desert sand, never to be seen again.

It's said that the cable car remains are still out there somewhere, but nobody knows exactly where, because again, they're all dead.. but the little house downtown is still standing strong, as is my undying admiration for Miss Cornelia.  How long ago was this?  The cable cars were last seen sometime around the first world war, just before being gobbled up by the desert dunes.  There's an old picture of them in the book.. which, by the way, I've only read once.

This is all very interesting to me because the entrance to The Smoketree Ranch is right next to where coffeesister and I live, and the starting point for the tracks going to the station is about 100 feet from our front door.  I don't know where the station used to be, but I do know it's 4 miles away.



I was feeling a bit sorry for the effeminate little gay guy who approached me in the hotel lobby to report that he'd been beaten out by our pool at around 4 in the morning.  It was only ten minutes later, and he was shaken and scared.. his buff partner was with him, spitting and swearing vengeance, which I miraculously talked him out of as I urged him to wait for the police, whom I'd just called.  Little gay guy said that the perpetrators were still in the pool area, and I opted to wait for the Police to arrive rather than go out there and scare them off.  If they really HAD beaten the little dude-ette, I wanted them to be arrested and thrown in the pokie.

I managed to get little gay guy and his buff partner to return to their room.  Police arrived and interviewed them before proceeding to the pool area and interviewing perps, who turned out to be a couple of straight guys.  Oh NO, hate crime!  Not really..

The main perp, and really the only one who'd had physical contact with little gay guy, was a strapping straight Marine, as in "USMC", and little gay guy had challenged him to a wrestling match.  The Marine had whupped his little gay ass and, with a bruised ego in tow, little gay guy came to ME to have me throw strapping Marine off the property.

This is how things go in the Palm Springs hotel and resort business during weekends like this.

On a final and somewhat wonderfully invigorating note, Sergeant So-And-So of the Palm Springs Police Department gave me quite the compliment when all was said and done.  These are typically known as "COPliments", but you've never heard that term before because they're so rare.

ME - (to Sergeant So-And-So) "Other than this situation, how's your evening been going so far?"

Sergeant - "Crazy.. we've been tied up for several hours over at (hotel across the street) because, UNLIKE YOU, those idiots don't have a clue what in the hell they're doing."

Well, my goodness.. THIS WEEK has ended on a nice note!