Oh, Marriott...say it ain't so...

Marriott International announced today that it plans to "phase out" adult pay-per-view movie options in its hotels worldwide.

And another one bites the dust.

Sigh.

If you haven't been following me for long, you probably are not aware that I believe that hotel room porn is a fundamental right.  Like free speech.  And shooting dolphins with assault rifles.

And NOT because I spend a significant amount of time watching hotel room porn.

I just like to read the titles.  Seriously.

Fine, don't believe me.

I first took up the cause back in March of last year when I accidentally (no, really) discovered that the Ritz-Carlton didn't offer pay-per-view porn options - and then face-planted into a glass door.  NOT related incidents, I assure you.

So I contacted the Ritz Carlton to voice my opinion on the injustice of it all.   I mean, the primary demographic for the Ritz Carlton is repressed rich people (and when I say "people", I really mean "men") who likely consider a night at the Ritz Carlton as an opportunity to escape their lives (and when I say "lives", I really mean "wives") and so they pack some lube and a toothbrush and settle in for an evening of pay-per-view fun and maybe a hooker or two.  Imagine their disappointment when they can only find MSNBC and the Disney Channel.

What a missed marketing opportunity.  Tragic.

The Ritz-Carlton people obviously didn't appreciate the genius of my logic.  Their loss.

But now Marriott is following suit (like the Ritz-Carlton wannabes that they always were).  But I LIKE Marriott.  I have all of my "frequent flier" points with Marriott.

My business travel usually involves a Marriott.

Oh NO!  All of those poor George Clooney/"Up In the Air"-esque business travelers!  What will they do?  There's a reason that half of these guys get into a business that requires ass-loads of travel...so they can get away from their families, order beer and steak topped with bacon and cream sauce, and watch porn in the privacy of their Marriott hotel room.

Now they'll have to...I can hardly say it...

...balance their computers on their laps and watch free porn on the computer!

((SOB))

Marriott says that the reason for the phase-out is due to a "transition to the next generation of in-room entertainment" that definitely does not include porn, and it is definitely not because they were getting lots and lots of pressure from "family values" groups (likely led by the high-strung, sexually repressed wives of the men who travel all of the time and stay at the Marriott to get away from them) and CERTAINLY NOT because Mitt Romney stepped down from the Marriott board after criticism that he didn't pressure Marriott enough on the whole porn thing and is about to announce his presidential aspirations - or at the very least to be Sarah Palin's butt boy...er, I mean, running mate.

Marriott also says that their revenues from adult pay-per-view content have been steadily decreasing... which is why they want to do away with the revenue COMPLETELY!

Makes total sense.

I guarantee that the people who are crying the loudest about the evils of porn are the ones who - when nobody is around - are holed up in their basements with a ball gag, a gallon of Crisco, a vibrator the size of a chainsaw and a subscription to www.1800JACKOFF.com.  

I made that that last bit up.  The domain name still seems to be available if anybody's interested.

FREE THE PORN!!!

At least there's still the Westin.

So who's on your team?

Every year for the last few years, my friend, B, has invited me to go to Tahoe over MLK weekend for skiing, sushi, drinking, and general debauchery.  And every year, I have bowed out because (1) I don't get on things that slide, (2) I don't eat sushi, and (3) it seemed kinda lame to go just for the drinking and debauchery.

But I rethought my position this year, had no other obligations and decided to go.  What the hell.

Magnificent place, Tahoe.  Stunning views.  Snow-covered mountains.  Beautiful sunsets.

And the best people watching EVER!

How did I not know about this?

Saturday night, we went to one of the South Lake Tahoe casinos and B and the rest of the crew introduced me to my new favorite game..."Your team!".

The concept is this...

Step one:  Drink.

Step two:  Observe.  Watch for passers-by who are strange and/or grotesque and/or crazy and/or freaky and/or just plain slutty and awesome.

Step three:  Call out "Your team!" and point to the friend nearest you or the friend who has irritated you last - by, say, winning $50 at video poker.

Step four:  The freak is now assigned to your friend's "team" for all eternity.  The concept is that when you die, you won't be able to spend eternity with your family and friends (unless, of course, one of your friends is a freak and has been assigned to your team).  You must spend eternity with the fabulous specimens that your friends have kicked to your team.

There are bonus points for mullets.

Now, at first glance, this may seem a bit cruel and juvenile.   And I assure you that I considered this for about 5 seconds before I was rolling on the floor laughing because it was SO MUCH DAMN FUN!

Conscience cleared.

Now you may be wondering how we had time to gamble when there were so many obvious potential team members in a Tahoe casino.

The good news is that you can collect team members for your friends WHILE you gamble.

The mother-load find of the night, however, went to our friend, R.  She spotted "Tiger Man" first...

When Tiger Man strolled by our little corner of the bar, we shamefully erupted into uncontrollable laughter and a chorus of kitty growling noises.

I wish you could see the detail in the picture - it was really dark.  What you might NOT be able to see is the following:

• the tiger stripped labels on the jacket;
• the matching tiger tuxedo stripe down the side of each pant leg;
• the tiger stripped jacket pockets;
• the red skull cap and tortoise shell glasses;
• the Puma tennis shoes - in keeping with the kitty theme; and
• the Johnny Depp (circa Alice in Wonderland) wanna-be friend sporting the top hat with two feathers (because one feather wouldn't have made any sense) with him at the bar.

Tiger Man is now on B's team - probably because she had just won at video poker.

My buddy, E - he's so funny - he said he was going to go over to Tiger Man and invite him over to meet the cougar.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Oh wait, I'm the...

Shit.  Nevermind.

After the rest of us left to head back to the hotel, B stayed behind to consume about 15 more drinks and claims to have spotted a mullet - which of course would mean that she had trumped us all for the night.  She got a picture of the gentleman at a Blackjack table - but only from the front.  Frankly I'm not buying it.  If you're going to call mullet and document the business in the front...you also have to document the party in the back.

I'm calling foul.

There were many many MANY other worthy nominees for our respective teams.  Too many really to showcase here.  Suffice it to say, we will all be having a grand freaky spandex-wrapped time in the afterlife.

But in the spirit of true self-reflection, two of the biggest freaks this weekend were actually me and B.

This is B and I in a local hardware store with our faux-fur critter hats.  In other words - totally team worthy.   So now B is on my team and I'm on hers.  And this makes me kinda happy because now I know that I'll be spending the afterlife with B in her roadkill cap (gopher maybe?).

Go team!

The Patriots want Jane...and, no, not the New England Patriots

Sometimes things happen in the universe that really make me start to think that there is a God...things so ironic that they could not POSSIBLY have happened by accident.

Example - I have been added to the Patriot movement's email distribution list.

Not the fun football Patriots, but rather the gun-toting, Obama-hating, Bible-thumping, anti-tax, grammatically-challenged Patriots.  (Note: I'm really not calling people names here.  This is more or less a Patriot self-description made available on a t-shirt.  See below.)

Those Patriots.

((shudder))

I have a junk AOL email account that I use as a catch-all for general email crap...pizza coupons, make-up tips, Vegas deals, fur recommendations from Rachel Zoe.  I hardly ever look at it - I mean does anybody actually use AOL anymore?!  So imagine my surprise when, right after Christmas, I started receiving daily Patriot Update emails in said account.  My reactions went something like this...

Get the fuck outta town!
Hey, this shit is funny!
Ewww...this shit is disturbing.
UNSUSBCRIBE! UNSUBSCRIBE!
Oh wait, there's a blog topic in here somewhere.

Patriot spam.  Really.  Each email was primarily a list of links to very important Patriot-related "news" items followed by a series of ads for very fun Patriot-related items.  Such as...

• The 1599 Geneva Bible - back in print AFTER 400 YEARS!  The Bible that "Obama does NOT want you to read!"  I'm not sure why Obama doesn't want me to read this version of the Bible, but there wasn't an FAQ section to the ad, so I guess this will remain a mystery...unless I buy the Bible.  Awesome marketing idea.
• The 2nd Amendment t-shirt -  "The 2nd Amendment: America's Original Homeland Security, Right to Bear Arms"
• The D.A.D.D.D t-shirt - "Dads Against Daughters Dating Democrats".  Get it?  Like Mothers Against Drunk Driving?  I'm a little disappointed that I didn't come up with this one myself.
• The "I'm a God Fearin', Bible Believin', Gun Packin', America Lovin' CONSERVATIVE" t-shirt.  Conservatives evidently hate g's.  Unless it's capital G in God.  I believe this purchase comes with a free bumper sticker: "I'll keep my guns, freedom, & money...You can keep the 'change!'". 
• And my personal favorite...The 2011 Cruise for Liberty.  Only $599!  "Makes a great Christmas gift for that conservative who needs a break from Obama and the Democrats!"  I guess this is what conservatives do with the money that they kept - along with their guns and freedom.   Maybe they'll be able to shoot dolphins from the ship!

I didn't dig much deeper at the time that I first discovered my newest email resource because of all the other shit that was going on in my life.  But I made mental note, logged it under "possible blog topics" and moved on.

And then yesterday, I turned on the TV to watch football and came face-to-face with the horrifying coverage of the shooting in Tucson of U.S. Congresswoman, Gabrielle Giffords.

I wish I could say that I was surprised that this happened.  Given the hate spewing from both sides of the political spectrum...given the unbalanced fringe of audiences hanging on every word...how could it not?

It was sad and frustrating and so completely senseless.

I remembered the Patriot email and was curious.  So I decided to have a peek at the site.

It's not for the faint of heart.

The articles are obviously written with a Tea Party slant but are, for better or worse, not completely offensive.  

But the comments - holy shit, the comments!

Here's a taste...Nancy Pelosi in a body bag, Barack Obama in a body bag, solve the country's problems by taking away White House Secret Service funding, Barack Hussein Obama, how all Muslims are generally evil and want to kill us, Obama is not really the president, the goal of healthcare reform is to control the people, Obama is a socialist, Obama is evil, "Barry Odumbo" is a power-hungry Muslim, Allah is a god but has to bow to God the Father, you can't take the "slum" out of Obama, and on and on and on.  A lot of it is incoherent, grammatically indecipherable rambling - a bit similar to what we've been seeing from the YouTube videos allegedly created by the Tucson gunman.

And I'm not sure who this Barry Odumbo is, but he sure sounds like a dick.

But the most chilling - for me, at least - was this comment, "In Arizona we saw a tragedy yesterday.  The assailant was 'pissed off' at his Rep. She backed the healthcare, and abortion. In November, We The People have spoken against this Tyrannical Government and their Socialism Run Regime...yesterdays result is from the after-affects of this healthcare, someone finally 'had enough'....I'm saddened for the little girl who passed, who was in the wrong place at the wrong time.  But for the Rep., she represented Obama." (sic)

In other words, it's ok.  She had it comin'.

And this is only one comment that I chanced across on one site.  What the hell else is out there??

I'm going to step back here and say that I firmly believe that everybody deserves a voice.  If you have an opinion, you have the right to make it heard.  But...BUT...if somebody is already on the edge of crazy, and is prone to seek out fringe opinions such as the one stated above...that somebody might start to think that crazy is ok and, worse, actionable.

My goal here is not to preach.  God/Allah knows, I hate preachy.  And if you're a card-carrying Patriot or Tea Bagger, don't just fire off on me here because - you know what - I'm bringing awareness to your crazy and maybe somebody will seek out your site as a result of reading this blog and will be so taken by the strength and conviction of your crazy that they decide to become a Patriot/Tea Bagger too. 

Or not. 

And if you're a "main stream" Tea Bagger with legitimate issues and are interested in engaging in a conversation to find a productive solution to what ails us, doesn't it bother you that the crazy in your fringe have taken over the conversation?  That you are now lumped in with them?  

There are valid points to be made on all sides of every issue.  But - for the sake of all - let's take a step back, breathe deep and quiet the crazy.  

Or just put it on a t-shirt.

Observations from a way sucky holiday

I haven't been blogging for a few reasons.  First, the holidays have been brutal and it seems that brutal doesn't translate well into entertaining reading.

Second, I generally don't dive deep into my personal life here.  There are a few people who read this and who know me and my life.  The trouble with telling people that you write a blog is that sometimes you want to write about something but then you don't because you're afraid that somebody is going to read it and take it the wrong way or get their feelings hurt.  Every time that I have tried to write something lately, I've stopped because it feels too personal and I don't want anybody to feel bad.

I'm done with that now.  This is my blog.  If you don't want to see what I have to say - don't read it.

Alrighty then...moving on.

Breakups, in general, are hard.  Breakups during the holidays are worse than awful.  Breaking up and then talking about reconciliation only to get your heart stomped on again during the holidays is practically unbearable.  I don't recommend it.

But out of this unique experience has come a few minor, rather unentertaining observations.  I apologize in advance for the uninspired nature of this post.

Observation No. 1 - Being a quality, attentive parent is nearly impossible when you are trying to survive a broken heart.  It is assumed that to be a good parent, one has to shove all personal emotion aside.  Kids are not stupid and are likely to notice when your eyes are swollen, there are tissue pieces stuck to your nose and you haven't showered in three days.  Kids don't like that.  So you push your emotion aside and try to throw all of your attention to your child.  The result is a half-assed constantly on the verge of a break-down style of parenting.  Or in my case, staring blankly at iCarly while my daughter tries in vain to engage me by filling me in on the finer plot points and calling that quality time.  

She knows I'm a mess right now and I hate that.  It's not fair.

I'm learning that this is a constant single-parent threat.  A single non-parent person falls in love and then breaks up - only that person gets hurt.  A single parent falls in love and then breaks up - the parent and child get hurt.  No matter how careful you are.  No matter how much you protect your kid.  I'm learning that people without kids don't get that.  It's too easy for a non-parent to compartmentalize the parent that they are dating from the child.  The parent understands that it's an intractable package deal.  

Observation No. 2 - The holidays were intended for couples - not single people.  Every kiss may begin with Kay, but Kay can kiss my ass.

Observation No. 3 - Exercise really is the cure for what ails you.  I learned that time on the treadmill with a chick-lit book on the iPad is time spent not being sad.  I just have to learn how to time my workouts better.  I keep walking in to the workout room right after Smelly Guy has left.  Which sucks because then the next person that walks in thinks that I am the one who has generated this fabulous scent combination of sweat and ass.  Eau de Smelly Guy can be detected on the elevator on the way back to my apartment an hour later.  He's a gem.

Observation No. 4 - This whole instant movie Netflix thing on the Wii is AWESOME!  How long has this been available?

All right.  I realize that, like me, this is a big ol' mess so I'm going to quit while I'm ahead.  I have better stuff ahead...better writing, better life, better attitude.  

Better year.

Happy New Year everyone!

Thanksgiving Comes First (even if you want to tell the whole holiday season to suck it)

I'm writing this for my new friend, Suldog, who writes fabulous blog entries that I need a thesaurus to interpret but inspires me to be a better - or at least a more loquacious yet articulate - writer (like that?!).

Sully hates the fact that Christmas is now officially celebrated for a quarter of the year.  And I tend to agree, although for slightly different reasons.

It used to be when I was a kid that I looked forward to Thanksgiving for the pure reliable family traditions.  Every year, me and my mom, dad and brother would walk up the street to my grandparents' house for the yearly Thanksgiving feast.  The men would watch football while the women finished up the meal preparations.  Around 2:00, everybody would sit down to turkey, potatoes, cranberries, rolls and some kind of veggie/fruit jello mold thing.

To this day, Thanksgiving just isn't Thanksgiving without a mystery-fruit jello mold.

After dinner, everybody would lay around like giant slugs, maybe play a game of Scrabble or cards and then reconvene in the living room for pumpkin pie and the inevitable showing of The Ten Commandments or The Sound of Music on TV.

There was a lot of comfort in this familiarity.  Family spending time together before the advent of cell phones and Twitter.

The next day, you would start to see traces of Christmas here and there.  Christmas lights on the neighbors' houses, candles and poinsettias in church, holiday trees in the department stores.  Christmas had officially begun.

The sales circulars didn't show up in the newspaper until Thanksgiving Day.  It was fun to sit around after Thanksgiving dinner with a 10-pound newspaper and piece together an imaginary Christmas list.

But Thanksgiving always came first.

I don't know exactly when it started to happen, but Christmas started to creep.  Some years ago, I noticed that stores started to kick-off the season the day after Halloween.  And then it started before Halloween.  In a year or two, I imagine that we will start to hear Santa Claus is Coming to Town on July 5th.

This year, I admit, I haven't paid much attention to the holiday creep.  But now with Thanksgiving just around the corner, it's hard to ignore.  Something about being newly single again tends to make the holidays seem not so warm and fuzzy, and more like a axe hanging over one's neck.

Perspective changes everything.

To me it's not so much that Christmas is taking over, it's that I don't want to deal with the holidays... period.  How does starting it so much earlier sound like a good idea to anybody...except maybe Best Buy?

The holidays as an adult are tough as it is - parties you don't want to go to, gift-exhanges for people you don't like, forced jolliness, fruit cake.  Add into it the pressure to singly provide a fun and memorable holiday for a 11-year old when money is tight and your entire family lives 2000 miles away, and the holidays are downright frightening.

I'm not in the mood for the neighbors who never took down the Christmas lights from last year but turned them on the day after Halloween with a "look how on top of things we are, fuckers".

I don't want to hear Christmas music on the radio before Thanksgiving...or Halloween...or the first day of school.  It's bad enough to be depressed and flipping through the radio stations and have to deal with occasionally landing on the easy listening radio station that plays "all love songs all the time" - or as the newly single like to refer to as "stick-your-head-in-the-oven love songs".  But throw in deck the halls and chestnuts roasting and Frosty and I'm ready to forego something as elaborate as the oven and head straight to the George Foreman grill to see what kind of damage I can inflict there.  I'm not sure I know how to use the oven anyway.

Let's not move this shit up on the calendar any earlier than we absolutely need to!  Sheesh.

But there are things for which I am grateful and I will remind myself of those things on Thursday when everybody takes a break from a full month of Black Friday and gorges themselves on turkey and jello molds.

I am thankful for my amazing 11-year old daughter who, with one smile, makes me forget everything else.

I am thankful for my friend, B, who has had pity on me and invited the me and the Princess to Thanksgiving dinner because she knows that we are alone and I don't cook and I'm a vegetarian and the Princess should definitely not have to suffer without turkey and would likely be served Oscar Meyer processed turkey if we didn't go to B's.  (Note to B - shall I bring the jello mold?)

I'm thankful that the Princess's Christmas list has gone down from "everything in the Pottery Barn Teen catalog please" to a pair of Uggs and a new cell phone.

I am thankful that I have a job.  And that I have a job that only makes me want to stab myself in the eyeball with a fork about half the time.

I am thankful I have good friends who still love me even when I'm sad and anti-social.

I am thankful that I don't have any cavities.

I am thankful for my friend K, who let me cry on her shoulder even though she was 3000 miles away.  And then I forgot her birthday, making me the worst friend EVER.

I am thankful that I have my health and good shoes.

Even though I will likely only receive a hand-knitted slightly crooked Princess-made scarf for Christmas, I am thankful that I will be receiving a hand-knitted slightly crooked Princess-made scarf for Christmas.

And I am thankful that I know when I am coming dangerously close to insufferable self-pity.

So for me...no candy canes until after the tofu turkey.  No Christmas shopping until after the actual Black Friday (or the next paycheck, more likely).  No holiday music...ever.

I'm going to stop and be thankful.

And then I can be a Grinch.

"Touch my junk" and other reasons to feel better about the world in general

I was fully planning on sulking for a while longer, but then I heard the airport security tale of John Tyner.  And nothing will temporarily pull me out of a funk faster than hearing somebody bitch about TSA security processes.

In case you haven't heard, John Tyner - a software engineer from San Diego – chose to “opt-out” of the new and improved full-body naked airport scanners and was asked to submit to the new and improved full-body pat down by a TSA agent.  Mr. Tyner decided, that, no, he didn't want his crotch grabbed by a complete stranger, told them so and offered to go through the regular metal detector like most of the other passengers.  The conversation soon escalated and Mr. Tyner was told that he not only couldn’t board his flight, but also couldn’t leave the airport AND he was likely now subject to civil charges and a $10,000 fine.  Mr. Tyner left the airport.

The best part is that he recorded everything on his cell phone and now the phrase “touch my junk” can be inserted into polite conversation.  

Awesome!

You can read the first-hand account through this link.

Much like the Jet Blue guy who grabbed a beer and exited his plane via inflatable ramp, Mr. Tyner has received both resounding praise for his actions, and loud derision. 

I, for one, am a fan.

I started writing about my experiences with TSA at the San Jose airport back in September.  Back then – which I can now refer to safely as “the good ol’ days" – my biggest issue was continuously setting off the security metal detector with my underwire bra and having to face a friendly “back of the hand along the boobs” pat-down to ensure that I hadn’t stuffed an uzi or exploding breath mints in my bra.

Then it was the backscatter scanners – or the porno scanners as I've now heard them lovingly referred to.  I submitted (and I really can’t think of a better word here) to the new naked Kodak box in September and then was surprised on the other end, without warning or notice, with another friendly “back of the hand along the boobs” pat-down.  The TSA chick just reached and started working me over – although, truth be told, I DO have nice boobs.

Anyway.

Now, because somebody tried to ship something in a box…on a cargo plane…that was definitely NOT a passenger plane...TSA has been given permission to feel you up with the front of their hands.  They are allowed to reach until their hand "meets resistance", like your crotch or testicles or tampon string.  In other words – and as John Tyner implied – government-condoned sexual assault.  Where else in the world would you allow somebody to do that to you?  

I’m still waiting for somebody to coherently explain to me how cupping my breasts and taking naked pictures of me is going to make flying safer or stop bad guys from shipping bad stuff on planes.  Evidently, the porno scanners likely wouldn’t have even detected the underwear bomber's tighty-whitey bomb because the scanners are not good at detecting plastics, liquids or other low-density materials.  

I am, however, pretty certain that there will be a few TSA agents who like their jobs a whole lot more.

In TSA’s defense, there are some pretty awesome officers out there.  I've encountered several at security checkpoints in Oakland and, yes, even San Jose.   I didn’t want to like them – but they were nice and professional and didn’t show any interest in touching my boobs.  This, of course, is the quickest way to my heart.

In fact, the last few times I’ve been to San Jose, the big porno Kodak boxes have been unused and roped off.  I hope it stays that way.  I hope that the TSA receives so much flack on the issue that they have to let their expensive new toys sit and collect dust.  Maybe they can cover them with wreaths and tinsel for the holidays.  

Big, expensive, dusty Christmas trees.

Now THAT is something to cheer me up.

Jane is going to curl up in the fetal position for awhile but not forever

Sometimes life is fun and easy and sometimes it just sucks.  This is one of those times when it just sucks.

I'm sure that in a few days blogging will be a welcome distraction, but right now I got nothing.   I'm going to take a few and lick my wounds and will be back shortly.  I promise.

Try not to have fun without me.