That Guy from the Odyssey

I've been to a lot of cities in the past few years. Strolled the streets of Paris whilst Sarkozy haters threw stale bread at passer-bys, dodged the piss from a tramp at the footsteps of London's famous Jazz Cafe, Camden town (it's burning down), and partied at every dodgy bar south of fifth in New York City.


Temporarily parked in Gainesville, FL, I'm contemplating the meaning of all of it. Is it odd that I don't feel right when I'm not thinking of the next place I want to go? That I don't care about financial security and home ownership? I've done some risk analysis. Far as I can see, I'm lucky I've made it this long. So why am I going to stop now and think about stabilization? I haven't been to Thailand yet! Sailed the seas of Croatia! Thrown a plate on the ground and yelled, "Opa!" (At least not in the appropriate context). So as I sit here, at my desk, listening to an imitation Asian "waterfall" fountain with the sweet sound of classical guitar music in the background, I ask myself WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN?! I seek the answers from all resources. Spiritual intervention included. Pretty standard if you ask any real Catholic (aka Catholic Guilt).


I think sometimes I take the wrong parts of mass home with me. It's the Lenten season for us Catholics meaning for 40days and 40 nights we make personal sacrifices and suffer a bit in preparation for the resurrection and the Easter season. I don't want to lose anyone with religious facts and so I'll just cut to the chase; I was at church this morning as a Lenten sacrifice and, truth be told, I couldn't tell you what mass was about. What I can tell you is the 90 year old woman next to me had the pipes of an alley cat and burst into song amidst complete silence apres communion today. It was shocking! Why did I chose that fateful seat? Why? Right next to the 90 year old alley cat? I'm hearing her song in my head now, like a genuine Irish banshee I'm sure. Soon after, everyone joined in song. Mind you there was no organist. So that was sweet, but the best part was that it covered up the laughter from my mom who sat one pew over. (We were separated due to tardiness and a lack of seating upon arrival).


Needless to say the answers were not found in the chapel. I lost the plot with that one.

So I emailed my bestie:

-----Original Message-----
From: bexin(a)city
To: littledebbie
Sent: Fri, 27 Feb 2009 2:57 pm
Subject: happy friday betch

happy friday doodle!! wruv u xoxo. boring day at work today, dreaming about moving to europe. i feel it in my bones! i got the travel bug. maybe i am destined to be a traveler. is that an occupation?
-B-


From: littledebbie
To: bexin(a)city
Re: happy friday betch

Famous Travelers (by Occupation):

1) Christipher Columbus
2) Marco Polo
3) Magellan
4) That guy from the Odyssey
5) Poccohantas (she wanted to leave her village until she died- a lesson in hesitation)
6) Santa Claus (and his reindeer)
7) Gulliver

xoxo,
Doodle

This list was both inspirational and easy to understand. I want to be just like numero 4. Brilliant. So I'm plotting my next move people. Look forward to some adventures.

First stop: London to visit my lover. Next stop: (I'm thinking) Spain; Somewhere coastal and scarcely populated.

Next stop? I'm putting my finger on a globe, and I'm spinning it.

Previous adventures in Morocco and Norway. I was hot as a mofo in one and freezing my ass off in the other.








*A disclaimer to my NY besties: you better believe that flight to London will have a layover in NYCizzle :).

The Chronicles of Tulip Touzie

ONE

At the ripe young age of twenty-one, Tulip Touzie had already discovered that she was not cut out for the working world. She had been a member of the work force for five full years and believed half of a decade was long enough to this conclusion. Being satisfactorily sound in said conclusion, she accepted her college diploma and put in her two weeks notice at Burrito's Burrito Company. It was the first time she had quit a job without being warned that she would be terminated if she called in sick ‘one more time’.

Tulip had never been fired from a job based solely on the fact that she was too lovable. She had called in sick sixteen times in the six months she worked for Tallahassee Bread Company. The management had enjoyed the sheer entertainment of watching her come to work slightly intoxicated and possibly stoned at 5:30am daily and attempting to do seemingly menial tasks with the greatest difficulty and satisfaction upon completion. She once served seven espressos during Monday morning rush without once changing the coffee grinds. The result of which was seven angry government workers, which was no skin off her back as Tulip assumed most government workers were angry by nature. She just hoped that she wouldn’t be held responsible for someone going postal. She scanned the Tallahassee Times on Tuesday and couldn’t find any evidence that her coffee had caused an immediate butterfly effect of immense proportions. For that, she was thankful. She promised the gods of coffee never to forget to change the coffee grinds again. She could only imagine how this could have affected Starbucks when it was a start-up company. One thing she was certain of was that she wouldn’t have graduated from Florida State without them. In conclusion, she also thanked the gods of coffee that she did not in fact work for Starbucks when it was a start-up company. Tulip believed that we must be thankful for past present and future equally.

Tulip thought that her job as a barista and sales cashier at Tallahassee Bread Company was going quite swimmingly. Which is why it was shocking when an assistant manager took her into the freezer to tell her that he heard she would be fired if she called in sick again. She wondered why he took her into the freezer instead of telling her in the kitchen. She was not ashamed. But she was very cold. Also, she wished that she could hear the sound of the classical music they played in the Café in the background. It would have made the moment more memorable for her. She had trouble remembering things when there wasn’t music playing and feared she may show up for work the next week.

Knowing that she would be calling in sick on Friday due to a student rally she had organized against the war in Iraq, she walked out of the freezer and into Bach and officially put in her one-day’s notice. She would not have minded working her weekend shifts and felt bad to leave them in a bind with such short notice, but there was no way she would work the weekend just to be fired on Monday. She was nobody’s fool.

Tulip could tell that Freddie Hornito was greatly disappointed to hear that she would be quitting the burrito business. Who would he smoke pot with after work? They had made it a thrice weekly tradition to turn off the fluorescent lights and let the paper lantern strands of twinkle lights and beer signs illuminate the small red cantina whilst they smoked pot out of apple cores and listened to classic rock on full blast. Freddie’s brother Jo was pleased by the many improvements that had come into fruition under the management of Freddie and Tulip. Tulip flirted with the beer distributor and had as result received free neon signs, beer samples, and cut outs of hot girls dressed as Indians drinking Bud Light. They resold the beer samples for a one hundred percent profit and were inspired to redecorate the eight-table restaurant with twinkling paper lanterns that came on a strand like Christmas lights. It was Tulip’s idea. Everyone in college had them. And she knew just where to get them. There was a local store owner whose shop she visited frequently, mostly to window shop and chat with the cute sales guy. They sold various hippie trinkets and treasures and she was pleased to inform that she would be buying more than just incense this week. She also invited the cute sales guy to see his merchandise on display at BBC and enjoy a free burrito if he desired. She figured it’d be good for business. The only people that came to Burrito’s were cops, construction workers, and Tulip’s friends. Who mostly ate free nachos and watched TV.

“Why are you leaving us?” Asked Freddie Hornito. “Is it the money? I can ask Jo if we can give you a raise. I’m sure he’d say yes. What d’you want? Eight-Fifty?”

“I’m retiring.” Tulip Touzie said with conviction.

They both laughed until their guts cramped from de-oxygenation and then Fred got out an apple core and a bag of pot and closed the restaurant for the day. They would need to sit down and discuss this matter immediately. Freddie Hornito was sure she was serious, and also sure that she wouldn’t have enough funds for a cushioned retirement and thought she might not have the sense to understand this fully.

Tulip always admired vagabonds and liberal folk artists. Her mother, Rose Touzie, felt slightly responsible for this because she only listened to peace inspiring music when Tulip was in the womb. Mostly Cat Stevens and Bob Dylan. When Tulip was twelve, Rose Touzie encouraged her to study alternative forms of religion before confirming to Catholicism. She had only intended to make Tulip aware that she was making her own mature decision to become a confirmed Catholic. It was never her intention to develop a Taoist slash Buddhist slash Catholic slash Hindu believer with a minor interest in witchcraft. She also allowed Tulip to frolic with the peanut butter and bean sprout eating Scientologist children next door who were teaching her God knows what about life forces and aliens. When Rose Touzie explained to Tulip how contradictory her pool of beliefs were, Tulip concluded it would be better to develop her own religion. She kept a book of deities where she named an individual god of every inanimate object she could think of. She kept it with her always, so that she could add to it as necessary. Rose often thought that her daughter’s eclectic behavior was quite possibly the result of information overload. She was never certain if her daughter would mature to understand things as they were.

When Tulip attempted to single-handedly take down the Marion County School Board after the implementation of block scheduling in the eighth grade, Rose began to worry. Her tweenager was writing papers on anarchy and even worse, socialism. She was becoming a weekly feature in the Ocala Star-Banner’s editorial section; each week her ideas became more complex and oddly, more possible. Rose immediately implemented required reading for Tulip in addition to her summer reading requirements. She would also need to read Adam Smith’s The Wealth of Nations and The Principles of Political Economy and Taxation by David Ricardo. Rose Touzie also started discussing rich capitalists like Warren Buffet as often as possible at the dinner table and how “awesome” it was to be American. She did everything she could. And after that failed, she bought her a guitar.

Freddie Hornito had listened to Tulip play her guitar on many occasions. All of them had involved a group of about nine close friends and a bottle of Jose Cuervo. If she had planned on supplementing her retirement with income earned from guitar performances she would have to learn more than five chords. Even though Freddie only knew Tulip for three-quarters of a year, he was sure that she wouldn’t be willing to go that far. Tulip was really good at learning almost anything really fast and she always quit as soon as things became too complicated. For this reason, Freddie didn’t see this early retirement coming. The burrito business was as uncomplicated as things could be. Tulip learned everything real fast and nothing ever changed, so she could just coast like a car on cruise control; and so could he.

Freddie sat there apple core in hand and said, “Tulip, you’ve gotta’ explain this to me. Retirement? I just don’t see how you’re gonna’ support yourself.”

“I figure I can just work for rent, you know like the Mennonites or whatever, and then travel a bit. You know, while I’m young. Old people are always using retirement to travel. I wanna’ do it while I’m young. And hot.” Tulip said frankly.

Freddie Hornito was not familiar with the Mennonites, but if Tulip said they existed then it must be true. A later search through Wikipedia confirmed that they were in fact real and there were 1.5 million of them world-wide which meant Tulip would have a lot of people out there looking out for her. Tulip was happy that after much deliberation, Freddie decided not only to support her early retirement but also to give her a thousand bucks towards the cause. Freddie wanted to go with Tulip and knew she’d welcome the company, but he was on probation for possession of illegal arms. Tulip knew Freddie was completely harmless and had petitioned his arrest after learning that the guns were a family heirloom. The guns held so much historical value that Freddie was afraid to register them for fear that someone from the registry would get greedy and try to steal the Cuban weapons for themselves. That and the fact that he had also been arrested for possession of marijuana so many times that he assumed they wouldn’t let him cross the border anyhow. Shit, if he made any missteps they just might ship him back to Cuba. And that would undo all that his parents had done to keep him here. No, Freddie Hornito figured he was better off staying in Florida. He told Tulip to use the money to buy him some more decorations for the restaurant, and send him some postcards while she was at it.

Tulip smiled and agreed, but they had turned off the music an hour ago after a cop on his lunch break persistently knocked on the door, jonesing for a chicken burrito. She knew without Sammy Hagar in the background, she was likely to forget her promise in about a week. In fact, she would be surprised in a week when she noticed her bank balance had increased by a thousand dollars. And even more surprised to learn that it was she who made the deposit. How incredibly curious, she’d think.

Gaspirilla '09 One Hell of a Good Time

Ever been to Gaspirilla with 10 crazy girls and one bachelorette? I have. Suckas!

This past weekend after getting my fill of casseroles and assorted baked goods at my bestie's bridal shower, I packed a suitcase and carpooled with 10 awesome ladies to Tampa for Gaspirilla. The result: unbridled debauchery, and ultimate good times. We packed 5 party people to a car and danced our way to Tampa. We arrived at the hotel for check in and to our dismay learned we had trusted our GPS more than our common sense and were, in fact, at the wrong hotel. A potty break later we were back in the car, satisfied that our hotel was better than that one anyway, seeing as that one smelled like onions and croissants.

We pulled up to the right Hilton and were quickly intrigued by the amount of sunburnt party people with mardi gras beads and Bud Lights. Anxious to put on our party dresses and penis nametags, we unloaded the car and popped a bottle of Arbor Mist Champagne; which was a white trash delight. (The aroma of sparkling wine cooler lingered in our room thereafter).

We hit the town with a cabbie who played Trick Daddy and let us squeeze 10 butts into 6 butt capacity. This lead to an overlap of four butts. Good way to get to know these chicks. After a dinner of croquettes and Jameson gingers, we hit YBOR like a hurricane. Decked out in a veil with shot glasses and a T-shirt with gummy lifesavers dangling about the mid-section that said, "Suck for a Buck", my bestie was ready for some pirate scouting.

First club we walk past has a line and the door guy quickly sweeps us in and waves cover. We're thinking hells yes this night is going to rock! 10 shots of tequila and we hit the dance floor. We dance like maniacs and when man whores try to lurk in and infringe on our girl bubble, Megan A flips them out with her white girl jersey fist pump. (Of course she only pumps for the ugly ones.) We hustle the cute ones for our bachelorette. I mean shoot, its her last chance to get some suckers to buy her a drink! Disparaged by the overwhelming amount of over confident gel heads and thugs, we bounce to the next bar.

PIRATES are everywhere at the next bar! And so are drinks for our bachelorette. The girl was on fire at this spot and must've pulled about twenty bucks from here "suck for a buck" t-shirt. One pirate named Brian (with the crazy eye) is spending WAY to much time with our bride to be and luckily he's outed by a real pirate who yells something like, "He's not even a real pirate. Look at his hat. It be made of foam. Yarg." The MOH and I decide it's okay to just get on stage and make announcements at our leisure. I give a heartfelt shout out to my Megan and the ladies all get a hold of percussive devices strewn about the stage. Next thing we know the bride to be is on stage spanking a pirate and getting a song dedication whilst 10 crazy ladies are dancing and playing tambourines and moroccos... and me and Jennie are yelling, "More Cowbell!!" We leave on a high note and skip our way over to Coyote Ugly for some bar dancing.

The bachelorette's on the bar as fast as she can climb and Christine's right behind her for some partner dancing. Our girl pulls in some more dough for her drink fund and actually gets a little reprimanding from the bouncer for letting someone eat a Life-Saver off her shirt. Apparently they have a rule there that people can't touch the ladies dancing on the bar. (Good rule if you're not wearing a t-shirt covered in gummy delights.) We dance like ass holes to Avril Lavign and assorted raunchy bar classics and we ride out to the next bar.

My tootsies need a break and I see a row of giant Harley's parked on the curb so I ask an old leather daddy if I can sit on his bike and rest my weary feet. He's cool with it so I kick back and relax on the Harley. The bachelorette and I have a full fledged photo shoot which we took very seriously at the time.The pics are priceless.The leather daddy offers to take our crew for a ride but he's three bikes short of a deal. Damn.

We pretty much bust the doors down at the Irish Pub next door and I quickly convince some gentlemen to let us get in on the next game of beer pong. Chrissy pulls through as a first string hero and we beat the guys into submission during round one. Meanwhile the ladies have met a good looking UFC fighter and we've got a gay girl turning straight on us. We must be drunk! For this reason we decide it's a good idea to drink irish car bombs AND red headed sluts. We're one throw into round two of beer pong and I'm turning Puerto Rican with my beer pong psych-out-the-other-team-strategies when the bachelorette yells "RIDE OUT LADIES!!!" And we're off to whatevies is next.

We're walking to the next bar when Megan A. drops her lipgloss and bends down to pick it up. Her control top is busting out of her short dress but it's the liquid pouring from her purse that I'm looking at. We're all confused, WTF was that?! "Oh shit! That's our Bud Lights from the last bar! I was gonna' pull them out when we got to the next place..." Wow.

We're wild'n'out yo.

Things start getting fuzzy right about here...but I know the following happened. The BTB forced Christine to trade her shoes because her whore shoes were killing her, a bouncer stole a Special K Bar from Megan A's purse, Jaime shook her booty on the dance floor, Christine fell off of the bachelorette's lap and onto the street, Chrissy STILL had a rash in the shape of a penis on her chest from her unusual penis nametag allergic reaction, Megan A and I purchased more "purse beers", and lastly I bit a hole in Megan A's tights in retribution of a previos incident which resulted in my tights being ripped.


A little after 3am, we bombarded a taxi van on the corner of 5th and 12th who was conveniently stopped at a red light and therefor could not escape our posse. Against his will, we all piled in the 6 butt capacity seating and Megan A sat on Amy resulting in some backseat discomfort. Meanwhile, our other Megan (the bachelorette) did a roll call on repeat and responded for those not listening. We hopped out of that clown car and into our suites for some rest. The fact that the cleaning staff was laughing at me in the morning leads me to believe we may have made a scene....

Basically, we kept it classy.

*A special shout out to Melissa and Jennie for making this bachelorette party rock!!!*