Archive for the ‘The Funny’ Category

As y’all may have noticed, I’ m not exactly shy or uncomfortable bein’..nekkid.  You can’t be nekkid for a living if you have issues with shyness and stuff.  But I have discovered a realm wherein the men? Uh, no, not having it, not having them around, not goin’ with they have the equality and right too…yep, not havin’ it.  And it’s kinda funny considering…

After all, I do not much care if any of my doctors are male or female, including my Obgyn  (current one is actually a dude).  I don’t care when making porn if the person holding the camera and yeah, er, right up in there, is a man or a woman- I’ve worked with both.  Tattoos?  I don’t care if my artist is a man or a woman….but…when I go and get waxed, as in, the dreaded and insanely painful Brazilian- which I do not only cause the Pat tells me and all, but because I have come to loathe body hair and dammit, it is summer and hotter than the hinges of hell in full humidity here…well yeah, when it comes to the waxing?  Uh, the person I am paying to rip hair outta my body has got to be  woman.  Granted,I have never heard of, much less seen a male waxer…anyone I know who gets waxed, female or male, well, the waxers are all women, but should I show up at the salon sometime and the waxer was a guy?  I could not do it.  Nope, no way.  I just couldn’t pay a dude to rip hair outta any part of my body, especially well, that part.   I can see a male obgyn and do porn and get inked by and be comfortable nekkid around men folk, even sleep with them and all….but no way in hell I could get waxed by a dude…

and I cannot even explain why.  It would just make me insanely uncomfortable.  So, there ya have it- when it comes to waxing, I am a reverse sexist asshole. 

 

Ayep, I have boldy gone…

SO, yesterday amid all my doctor crap, it became evident that Mr. Evolution was in serious need of a hair cut.  I am pretty sure Mr.E has worn his hair in the same style since birth, or at least actual observation and photo evidence has led me to beleive so.  And that style is military short…not buzz cut or flat top, but I guess what one might call “officer hair”..short in the back and on the sides, very short actually, and a bit longer on top and in the front…hell, kinda like this dude, but even a wee bit shorter.  And I will also say this, for a dude who is in his 40′s, Mr.E still has ALL his hair, and it is thick and kinda wavy and has a mind of its own, so once it gets past the Officer Hair stage, it becomes…well, very special really.  Well, yesterday it was in special stage, so whilst between doctors he decided to get it cut, and went into what I now know is a Man Salon.

Now, they would NEVER call it a “Man Salon”, because that would be girly and shit…but believe you me, that is exactly what they are, and have been, I suspect, since their inception.  They code and hide themselves under the name “Barber Shop”, and while others have taken the term, there are a few indicators that a Barber Shop is indeed that and not some prentender, a few signs include:  The Pole.  They do not cut Women’s hair.  The presence of several well-groomed fellows about the shop, and at a least one well-groomed or about to be well-groomed fellow outside the shop, often smoking some kind of tobacco product.  So it was yesterday that Mr. E found himself in a Man Salon…er…I mean barber shop, and since I did not feel like roasting in the car, I went in with him.    Now, I have been in a salon or two in my time, and I know what occurs there: hair cutting, hair dying, manicure and pedicures, waxing, facials, sometimes tanning, pampering, things of that nature.  And while the Man Salon, er, Barber Shop, is different, the level of pampering is…dare I say it…even higher?

So I sat and bore witness.  Mr. E and one other fellow were in there at the time.  Mr.E was merely there for a hair cut…and sure enough his hair got cut…but with the hair cutting service he also got  a hot towels on the neck, head and face to relax him and work on his skin, his hair styled beyond the cut, offered coffee and…a head and neck massage…that was like for 15 minutes…and this all just goes with the 16$ hair cut!!!  But Mr. E was totally getting the slack treatment compared to the other fellow in the shop.  He wore his hair…ok…wrong term, he had his head shaved, which was then followed by a cleaning solution for his scalp, hot towels, a lotion for the skin, more hot towels, the head and neck massage, more hot towels, then he got a full shave, with the foam lather and a straight razor and then conditioner for his skin…more hot towels, then his nails clipped and filed to look nice (yet still manly)…dude, this AIN’T a mere place men go to get hair cuts…the old school shaves, the hot towels, the massages….this is a damn Man Salon…and believe you me…all that man-pampering?  A heck of a lot cheaper than the woman-pampering that goes on a Woman Salons!

Needless to say, Mr.E loved this place and will be going back.  And it made me think of the stunning loyalty my father and brother both have to their respective Barber Shops….and now I know why.  It’s not merely about a good hair cut  (ffs, both my father and bro wear flat tops, not much artistry needed there), it’s about the man-pampering:  the Old Fashion shaves, the hot towels, the friendly service, the chat and massage….hell, if gals could spend under 30 bucks and get equivalent woman-pampering we’d have such strong and fierce loyalties to our barbers…er, I mean stylists…too.

But believe you me, the sign may say “Barber Shop”, but what those places really are is Man Salons…and the pole and manly sorts hanging about shall never fool me on that matter again!!!

Greetings from the Swamp…

Posted: April 20, 2011 in Personal, The Funny

So, well, I’m down in FL taking a vacation and staying with my parents.  My parents have lived in the same house here in FL since 1986 or so…bought it for REAL cheap (65,000) because…well…previous owners?  Murder/Suicide- amazing how that shit will drop property values!  Anyway, this house is one of those places I have a love / hate relationship with.  My folks talk endlessly about selling it and moving to something smaller  (going price these days in this part of FL would be about 120…which for 5 bedrooms, 3 full baths, a two car garage, a pool….and something very very few other houses in FL have- a basement- seems like a freakin’ steal to me, but hey, I live in North VA where shit is just too dang expenesive period.)  And Mr. E and I have also long disucssed figuring out a way to, er, take it off thier hands when they do decide to sell…because face it, having a place in FL- considering how often we come here and how often folk we know come here- could be kinda cool…but so yah, there is the love.  I like a lot about this place….its big, my folks have over the years have done a lot of work on it- new floors, new roof, new pipes– but a lot would still need to be done- the pool needs work, the deck needs to be replaced, and while I live for that shit…well…it would end up being a lot of time and money….

There is also the killer almost deal breaker for me…location.  My folks place is about 40 minutes North of Orlando…about 5 minutes into the “Snakes and Rednecks” portion of FL, but WAY TOO CLOSE to the “Tourists and Disney” section of the state for me…sure enough- great for guests, hell, yer 40 minutes from Mickey Mouse (ugh) and Sea World (not so ugh) and Universal (great rollercoasters), and about 30 minutes from Daytona (beaches and racing and motorcycles, woohoo!) …if I were ever gonna come back to this state, I’d prefer to live in the Tampa area or…further north  (more snakes and rednecks, less Disney and Tourists…and well, a much shorter drive to Rooties  hahahahaaha!)

Anyway, I have always laughed about this house….and when we first moved here, there was an instance where my father, my brother and myself had need to get up on the roof to fix something….and now I got a visual for ya….

Note edge of roof…note deep end of pool  (12 feet deep, also a rarity in FL)….well, you KNOW we had to do it…it seemed like a BRILLIANT idea at the time…and there were no injuries…until my Mom got word and nearly killed all three of us….so far as I know, no one has made that leap since for fear of a 5’3″ 120 pound woman with a killer maternal instinct….oh, and in case you EVER had any doubt that FL, even near the Disney Parts, was still just a big ass Swamp full of snakes, bugs, and gators…a photo of the Non-Concrete part of their backyard….I am convinced there may actually BE Japanese in there who do not know the war is over….

O’Canada!

Posted: March 6, 2011 in The Funny

Okay, this one goes out to my Canadian readers, namely Xena, who cracked my shit up by compairing the relationship between Canada and the US to one between a quiet, nerdy little sister (canada) and her older, moonshine swilling, loudmouth asshole brother (USA) who is constantly out picking fights and being a dick and leaving her with all the messes to clean up and explaining to do.   I guess Canada is the Lisa Simpson of the world.  SO, anyway, in honor of Canadians, I share the following tale.

Myself and Mr. E have a very good friend who, well, since we have known him, have refered to offhandedly as The Toronto Kid  (its like his Super Hero Name  lol).  TTK has been a friend of ours for years- good guy, funny, smart, knows everything one could ever possibly know about music, so on so forth, we like the TTK.  Well, at one point and time TTK and his girlfriend came down from Toronto to visit us here in…Virginia.  TTK has lived in the states before, but far prefers Canada.  His lady had maybe been to the US once before (School trip when she was a tweener, I think) and did not, in any way, have a high opinion of the US or Americans.  Anyway, they wanted to go to this big ass industrial music club in DC, so we made arrangements to go, and I was like “We are leaving at 8:30, I want to BE THERE by 9 so we can get decent parking.” 

And she looked at me like I was nuts.  “Why so early?” she asks, “nothing gets started in Torono ’til at least 10.”

So I explain to her that this place is in a part of DC where you do NOT want to leave your car just out on the street and well, I want to be there for open bar, which ends at 10.

She gives me a perplexed look and asks what open bar is, so I explain that open bar means until 10pm, drinks are free, just tip the bartender.  She is stunned.  SO we leave at 8:30, get good parking, are in the door when it opens at nine, and are headed directly to the bar.  I light up a smoke and she looks at me, once again, stunned.  “You can smoke in here?”

I nod.  Yep, you can. She lights up and follows me to the mythical Open Bar.

So, about an hour later I see her, third very strong screwdriver and cigarette in hand, and she grins at me and loudly proclaims “I LOVE AMERICA!”

I turned to Mr. E with a sage nod and said “See, building World Peace through Open Bar.”

So see, sometimes even the asshole loudmouth older bro can show his little sis a good time, even though it did involve swilling moonshine   :)

Money for parking, reservations, and silver bullets…

So, not too far back (think, oh, November 20th or so, in the year 2010) myself and my parole officer…er…friend…Shen headed north to Baltimore for a much needed all chick night of merriment. Our plan was simple…pack some shit, get in a car, head up the road to Charm City, go to our hotel room, chill, eat, chill, then hit probably the best industrial goth club in the area…via a taxi so we could drink and not worry about driving OR parking…have fun, come home, sleep, return South the next morning.

And so it was supposed to be…hell, I even booked a room in advance and shit.

So Friday afternoon arrives, and along with it, Shen. We wanted to leave early so as to miss the absolute terror that is Friday Rush Hour traffic in the to, through, in and around DC/Baltimore area. So I toss my bag in the car, have some tunes in hand, and off we go…

And for a moment there, we felt a bit like the Winchester Boys…We have AC/DC blasting on the stereo, cool jackets on, did I mention Shen drives a red Mustang? No? Well, Shen drives a red Mustang, we are on the freeway…and going about 30 miles an hour because even though we left early- specifically- there is so much traffic the road is a parking lot. So goes the

In case we needed to pray...

Winchester moment and sets in the annoyance with civilization. The AC/DC stayed.

Anyway, we eventually arrive in B’more, and with surprisingly little effort, find our Hotel, which is this old Historical Thing that SHOULD be a bed and breakfast, but isn’t, is close to the Inner Harbor, but, oh, a block or three into SCARY Baltimore, and across the street from a HUGE, very cool looking old church….Shen and I looked at it, shook our heads, and in unison said “Lutherans” (turned out to be Presbyterian…not that we went in and prayed, but I looked at the sign). So, we note right off…no parking. No way in hell we are parking the ‘Stang on the street, so I, looking much like my camo wearing self, go in and inquire about parking. Turns out they have a deal with the…get this…hospital… down the street. So, we go park in the hospital parking garage then hoof it the block and half of so back down to the hotel and check in.

The place was certainly historical…and they had a big grey cat who lives in the lobby. We check in and head up to our room (third floor, no ‘vators, winding staircase). The key for the room is an actual…key. We go in and laugh…wall to wall old school silk wall paper, rustic furniture, little table with china for eating…it did have a tv with cable though! All that was missing was the claw foot tub. We both decide we dig it. At this point, out comes the flask with the JD in it, and we proceed to chill watching Law and Order until food motivates us to move.

So, back out we go. We find a sub shop down the road and decide that will do. We go in. Amid the customers are a homeless dude talking to himself at a table and a gal we were pretty certain was a smack addict who was on the nod. We order our food, and the woman making the sandwiches whips out with this knife to cut them and we are like…woah…it was a sandwich machete. We get our food, head back, eat it…damn good sandwiches I must say…then chill until it is time to head out.

So I'm a hick, deal with it.

Head out time arrives. We suit up. Shen looks like a dang gunslinger…I think it’s the leather duster, and I..well, look like the lost Tremor Brother as is typical…but yes, I will wear this belt and buckle (the buckle was my B-Day present from Shen, oddly enough) to a goth/industrial club. So we head out to get a cab, we do so, and the cabbie is surprisingly nice We get there. Where, you might ask? Well…here…

I know all the classy places!

Dude do I totally take my friends to all the nicest places or what??? And we are early. And it is cold. So we hang outside smoking, waiting for the place to open, when this gal comes flying around the corner looking a bit paranoid. Kind of a rockabilly looking gal, and obviously younger than us. She asks if she can hang with us because she thinks someone might be following her (gotta love Charm City), we say yes. So the three of us are now chillin’, turns out her friend is DJ’ing there, we’re chatting, and then the bartender arrives…and gets his car kicked and yelled at by some passing Urban Youth as he is trying to park. It was a bit surreal, actually. He makes it inside, yelling a bunch of shit most of us would not say but were thinking, then one of the DJ arrives and asks Shen and I to make sure his gear does not get stolen as he is running it inside, we do so, then we finally go in and head directly to the bar…

The bartender apologizes for his tirade, we say we can understand why he was pissed…then we go sit somewhere, and come to the horrible realization that while for eons untold Friday Nite has been industrial/goth nite at this place…they have changed the format to Rave Music. That’s what I get for not checking their website and just assuming things would be as they should be in the goddamn universe just ONCE. This does not please us, but not much we can do- and truth be told, it was pretty obvious everyone else there knew the Gunslinger and the Lost Tremor were there on the wrong night…we did not blend amid all the color and glow sticks and baggy ass hippy meets the early 80′s clothes (parachute pants, I shit you not). So we do what we can do at this point…hit the flask (ah yes, no metal detectors), the bar, and snark at people. Which we can apparently do with impunity, as the girl from the door (Lara) comes to join us because she is being harassed by some dude, and it has been determined amidst the amazingly colorful (and most of them high as hell on X and blow) ravers in attendance that we are scary and best left alone…

This never fails to amuse me, ffs, I am 5’2″ and I was not wearing heels.

Anyway, Lara heads off to speak with some of her friends, and Shen and I notice something…she and a couple other folk are wearing tails. Like animal tails, attached to their pants, so it looks like they have tails. This perplexes us. We are wondering what the tails stand for or mean. We ponder on this, then finally (after hitting the flask again) I say “Maybe they are Furries?” And I cannot think of furries without thinking of that episode of CSI…we ponder on this for a bit, then Lara returns, and Shen says “hey, what are the tails for?”

And Lara says, grinning and no hesitation. “I’m a Furry.”

Shen and I do not crack up. It took some willpower. We ask if all the tailed people are Furries. Yep, seems they are. She is telling us about the Furry thing when this woman, who either has five years on me, or looks like she has 5 years on me, and is dressed like Cyndi Lauper from the 80′s, when she really should not be, comes by and pet’s Lara’s tail.

Well, poor Lara looked like a Furry in headlights I tell ya. I figure its kinda like people touching my hair without permission, but Lara says “Oh god, I just pictured her naked…” Shen loses it and tells her “Honey, don’t visualize.” Lara calms herself, attempting to erase the thought from her head, then looks at me, noticing my necklace and says…

“Are you wearing a necklace with live rounds on it?”

Ren arches a brow. “Maybe.”

She asks to see it, questioning about what type of bullets and what they are used for then she notes one of them, a .9mm…is…Silver.

Why yes, I do have a silver bullet…..

The Tails! It's a sign!

And I have never seen a person step away from me like I was Satan faster than that. It was FUNNY. I promise her that I have never shot a Furry in my life, its strictly for werewolves. Okay, no, I mostly have it because I think it is funny and cool. She accepts this answer, continues to speak with us, and Shen and I learn that Baltimore, believe it or not, is like the Furry Capitol of the Mid Atlantic…

Now, I knew that both DC and Baltimore had decent sized BDSM scenes and such, but this was something I did not realize, and Shen and I come to know we are surrounded by…Raver Furries!

We are suddenly glad I actually have a Silver Bullet! At this point we go out to smoke, snark about Ravers, and play spot the Furries. After a few coffin nails, we go back in, Shen is chatting with Lara, and a fellow in a tail comes to talk to me. Not my type. I show him the Silver Bullet. It works. The bartender laughs at me and says “I KNEW you two were here on the wrong night!” I reply that this used to be industrial night! He nods and says they changed over about two months ago. I grumble about driving all the way from Manassass in Friday Traffic and getting a room to come here for my B-Day to hear some dang Ministry and its goddamn hippy raver night. He looks at me, notes my belt buckle, notes Shen (who is standing near by) in her gunslinger coat, laughs again…and then gives me a shot of Jack and a beer free of charge. I like this bartender…

So, the night winds down and we head out, folk are gathering up their things and heading out. Lara and her DJ friends invite us to come to their after party, we decline and call a cab. I am amazingly amused to learn that one of our raver DJ’s work name is DJ Twitch. So we wait for our cab…and wait, and wait, then Shen calls back and gets medieval on them…the cab arrives, and I tell you this…

That freakin’ cabby should be in NASCAR.

So, we get back to our hotel, sleep, get up, I learn hot water is fleeting in our hotel, pack up, and head home…and realize we never got charged for parking! Score!

And snicker about Furries, Silver Bullets, Ravers and humans in general, while listening to AC/DC doing maybe 50 in the ‘Stang all the way home.

So yes, if you are going to Charm City? Make sure you have money for parking, reservations, and silver bullets.

How does one define “fun”?

Posted: July 8, 2010 in The Funny

In my case, it is simple.

Something that needs a bit of work with a sledge hammer and a crowbar…like my master bathroom.  In this house, Ren is in charge of demolition…

Getting started…

This is way too fun…

Phase one- complete!  (ah, the pitfalls of living in house made on a loooow budget,,,in the 70′s. See that mold…eww, hence, the need to kill my bathroom with a sledge hammer (not like i NEED a reason, but…)

Wall 0, Renegade 1

THANK YOU ENGLAND!!!

Posted: June 4, 2010 in The Funny

For making me LAUGH MY ASS OFF!!!

Mr. Noir & Mr. Moon make Ren Laugh-

Y’all are well aware that I like strong women characters, right?  Both good ones (ahem protagonists as it were) and bad ones (hell yeah antagonists)…well, see, I also play this game and…

Anyway, I made videos of both my heroic and villainous women characters, doing their thing…you know, strong woman kickin’ some tail, but, but, see even of one does not PLAY the game, in these there is something for everyone!

For Rootie- guns, a mysterious Old West Figure in Black Type, and well, explosions!

For Trinity- a very, very scary HERO with claws and cool armor, and a tiny little gal with short hair  in a black leather kicking the crap out of a bunch of dudes! Oh, and Mechs, did I mention Mechs?  And a woman with extra bladed cybernetic arms?

For Snowdrop- a reason why we are all sooo very happy the UK has very strict gun control laws!

And of course, for Lisa-  Aggro…lots and lots of Aggro.

and for people who have been keeping up with the Scary Southerners, well, two of them are in there…and you can TOTALLY tell where little sister Sammy got her moves from!

Plus, of course, all the music is by…women.

Heroes First!

And now, of course, the Villains  :)

….

(is it just me though, or do some of my heroes look way scarier than the villains???)

Ocean City!

So, I have returned triumphant, victorious (sunburned) from Ocean City! I have also now found a place where I am convinced myself and various others of my friends could have a seriously good time and not feel…odd. We (we being me and Vlad) headed out long about 10:30 Thursday morning. We took the scenic route up through VA, MD, and why yes, even Delaware to get there rather than the Rte. 50 way which involves, ahem, driving over a 5 mile bridge and probably a lot more traffic. We had good tunes, Red Bull, and sunglasses, what more did we need, really? I am also fairly certain we saw, if my Scary Southerners have relatives in Delaware, the house in which they live. It was a thing of terror and beauty. We also saw the outside of the state police headquarters, which looks like a bed and breakfast…we pondered going in and asking for tea and scones, but decided against it.

We made it to our hotel around 3 pm ish and checked in. This was an interesting experience. Not enough people working check in for the amount of people actually checking in, but hey, shit happens, right? Also, it is now proven fact if you are gal in camo’s, boots, with a big ass scar on and a .44 round hanging off your neck and holding a big ass black bag, standing next to a 6’1″ dude in camos, a black Team Ireland jacket, and a couple of big ass black bags, people will stare at/step away from you….

So, we put our shit in the room, busted out some Jack Daniels, then decided to go eat. First stop of vacation eating: Kirby’s pub. Small, nice little place, where we found out that the actual boardwalk part of the beach started around 7th street…our hotel (while on the beach of course) was at like, oh, 120th street. So we ate, grabbed some Red Stripe, then headed back to the hotel, and figured out how the buses worked…two dollar fare for all day- good deal IMHO.

We found Jesus!

So then we headed out to conquer the boardwalk, only to learn that on a Thursday night, when it was damn ass cold and windy and still sorta the off season- not much going on. We hit a bar or two, I got a sweat shirt, we found Jesus, were annoyed by people from Philly, took some pictures, then ate at Denny’s before going back to the hotel. Had more Jack…bad move on my part.

Went to bed, woke up the next morning aware of the fact that Jack had in fact decided to make me his prison bitch and when he is of that mind, the last thing one should do is eat greasy gross food from Denny’s. Once I stopped being sick and felt human again, I noted that the weather was awesome, so back we went via bus to the boardwalk…right around noonish- it was a gorgeous day for it: we strolled the boardwalk, Vlad got a funnel cake, I had fun people watching- because just like with most non-super snotty

Um, nope, salt water don't kill it...

 beach towns- there is an interesting mix of folk to watch- from the beer-enjoying red necks in the camo shorts and gun hats to the families to the college kids and everything else you can imagine. We went down on the beach and into the water (which was cold, let me tell you). Down at the end of the boardwalk we stopped in at a little bar, and I mean little, with a great view and had a beer…the place was called “The Frog Bar” and well, there were frogs everywhere, including Kermit, who appeared to be doing bad things to a surf board. Then we headed back up, stopped in an arcade to play some Ski Ball and Video poker (for tokens, alas)- Vlad proved to be the champion of ski ball. Poker was my domain. We wandered around a bit longer, then went over to main street and had an early dinner, then back onto the bus and to the hotel.

There had been talk about hitting the One Big Club in OC, a place called Secrets, but we decided we did not want to do that. Instead, we took up the mantel and went out to play the sport

Ocean Lanes, Here we will summon the Devil!

 of Kings: Bowling. Which turned out to be a good idea and a lot of fun. Vlad who is not a bowler held his own against the Renegade, who was on her high school bowling team, for 3 out of five games, winning two of them, but then I came back big in the last game. Much fun was had bowling- it was quiet, kinda low key, and full of awesome…and the people working there cracked us up- turns out they too are Supernatural fans and well, play catch with bowling balls.

After bowling ,went back to the hotel, had a beer, walked down the beach at night, which was nice, then watched Viking movies until it was sleep time.

Saturday morning, we were up early and headed back down to the boardwalk, still fun though we’d already seen it. We wandered around for a bit- I had to get new sunglasses, having broke mine the previous day, then long about 11:30 we decided to have a beer in a bar that had been closed the previous day: The Parrot bar, 1.50 drafts. In we went. This place was cool…in that awesome Tiki-Tacky way that I dig, but lacking on the tacky, actually- hardwood bar and stools, brass rail, decent sized tables for dining in the back, nice staff. We had a laugh thou, it was not yet noon when we went in, and we were the only ones there, but minutes later the place filled up…it was like no one else out there who wanted a beer before noon wanted to be the first drinker in the bar…but once the seal was broken and all…game on! We hung out there for a bit, then back out on the boardwalk…Vlad had decided he wanted a frozen drink with an umbrella in it, so we made it so…hit a little outside bar up on a hotel- nice view of the ocean and boardwalk, and ordered frozen drinks (alas, no umbrella’s)…where we had a Ren and Vlad hahahahah at the stupidity of the universe moment…the people next to us were a story as old as time itself: the late 40′s business man being self important and rude to the bartender, macking on the early 20-something blonde girl in the tiny bikini who was workin’ it hard enough I think I could actually hear it! Eh, I guess she got free drinks outta the whole deal and he got to be seen with a cute young blonde, but damn did they so deserve each other! After that, I found myself in need of cigarettes (which are too damn expensive in MD), so we, er, went to a head shop that was run by two nice older hippy ladies. Smokes as well as pins for hats were purchased. (Hey, sometimes you need those things!) Then we wandered a bit more before heading back to the hotel.

Then it was down to the beach…which was both windy and sandy. True enough, the sand on the beach was that nice, soft kind, but when it is pelting you at 15 mph it stings a little. Also,

view of the beach...and some concrete.

 seeing as sanity is not a trait Vlad and I always possess…we went in the water. And I am not talkin’ stick the toes in the 50 degree surf kinda thing, but one of those charge down the beach dive into the waves kinda went in the water. Dude, it was cold y’all. And then the wind with the sand in it was even worse! We hung out down there for a bit, Vlad built a strange recreation of the Coliseum or some such thing in the sand, avoiding the horseshoe crabs who disliked him renovating in their neighborhood, then we went upstairs. Where, alas, I did have to wash my hair- greasy I can deal with, ocean and sand, not so much. So, we cleaned up, then it was back on the bus.

Big Peckers...the burger was good thou...

In our previous wanderings, we had seen a sketchy little place called Booty’s House of Crabs. Sure, it had a Pirate theme, but that is one of those names that is just unfortunate. Despite the bad name and sketchy appearance however, Vlad had noted an important thing about the place, and that was the sign which read “Dollar Beer all weekend”. It was decided we must look it to this! So, first we went to dinner, and another place with a sketchy name- “Big Peckers”- their sign had Foghorn Leghorn on it…and damn, did they have good burgers, then we headed down towards Booty’s, seeking dollar beer.

The bus ride to Booty’s was, ahem, a little surreal and tense. Why, you might ask? Well, one, in our various bus rides, we had come to the conclusion that we were really happy we had not gone to Secrets, because just about everyone we had seen on the bus coming from or going to there had been an ass and the sort of person I generally would like to beat with a tire iron…and two…

We get on the bus. We look, er, well, like we lost our way to the militia meeting because generally, well, that’s how we look. Next to us, there is a family with a little girl, trying to do the family vacation thing. Across from the family are three women- terms- like them or not- such as “cougar” or “milf” might apply. Dressed up and in to be seen, obviously have some money, married, doing that “girls vacation sans the men” thing…loud, and drunk, headed to Secrets. Across from us is a couple. She’s dressed up, looks nice, he is neatly dressed, clean cut, but one would have had to be blind not to notice his ink. Which there was a lot of. The kind a person gets in prison. Including 4 certain numbers discussed here a lot in blog land recently, right on his neck. He is chatting quietly with his lady, minding his own business, all that. The bus stops at Secrets, the drunk loud married women get off, to be replaced by six or so drunk loud college boys- the frat looking type, from Virginia Tech. Two are so wasted they pretty much pass out the second they sit down. Two are drunk but sober enough to try to ride herd over their friends. They are making comments about the Married Women when they get on the bus…some stop when they see the family with the kid sitting there, others do not. They are loud, drunk obnoxious loud, swearing, and dude with the Ink is sorta glaring at them (he had shades on, but you could tell), and sure enough, one of the college boys, the one non-white one of the bunch, steps on the Lady of Ink Man’s foot. Hard. Like honestly hard enough that she shouted. He apologized, but really over did it on the apology. More like he was daring ink man to get up and start something (on the middle of a crowded bus) than he was actually sorry. Bus ride continues, College Boys still loud, Ink Man and his Lady depart, once they do, guy who stepped on Lady’s foot starts going off on how he would have kicked Inked Man’s ass…blah blah blah, until one of his friends tells him he really needs to shut up. Why am I telling you this? Meh, it will play into More Observations from The Bus which will come later…

Booty's House of Crabs!

Anyway, we get to Booty’s House of Crabs, and we have found our Destiny! Dollar beer, all kinds, from Guinness to Coors- no beer over a dollar, and dollar Red

Sam Axe, is that you???

 Bull, and good music on the Juke Box, and the staff are all cool as hell. The place had just been bought out, and they needed to get rid of all the previous owners booze… it was a thing of beauty. Though I do note, even on vacation, even when all beer is a dollar, Vlad and I drink cheap beer. Sure, there was the occasional drunk idiot, but for dollar beer and red bull, these things can be tolerated! The place was a little hole in the wall, but one with serious character- the owner/manager of the joint (“Call me Chief!”) bought us shots, decided that I had invented a new sobriety test (I was heading back from the ladies room, passing a table set up for…I shit you not…beer pong…and caught a rouge beer pong ball left handed with zero hesitation or difficulty), and well, while there were tourists like us in there, and the occasional group of college kids, it seemed to be more popular with the locals. We were on first name bases with Chief and his bartenders (Jessie and Lindsey) early on, they were serving grill food (dogs and burgers, 2$/3$ a piece) and Vlad and I were bemoaning the fact we had not come to Booty’s earlier. If we ever set up a Meet & Greet for our CoX buddies, it WILL be at Booty’s Crab House, Ocean City MD.

We headed home later than planned, and went to bed, because we were headed home the next morning. Obviously, we made it. I kinda dig that place.. A lot.

Now Then…

Ren blends with the other Cripsy Crackers!

Observations about OC: Whilst OC might be a Mecca for crackers, it is pretty dang diverse. A ton, and I mean a ton, of the people who work there in the stores and bars and such are from the Former Soviet Union. The tourists are a huge mix of black, white and Hispanic. The age range is wild- lots of college aged folk, lots of 30/40′s, lots of retired folk. Lots of people with kids, and lots without. There is stuff for families to do, and stuff for adults to do…I think I saw both more liquor stores and mini golf places in OC than I have ever seen, anywhere, ever, in my life. Our hotel was nice, but I think a good way to do an OC trip-depending on funds- would be to rent out a condo, and there are TONS of them. Also, there was a wide range of social strata going on there- from people who obviously had a lot of money to people on family vacation budgets to blue collar sorts. The boardwalk was one of those places you could find shops with a Confederate Flag Shirt in one window and a Kenyan Flag Shirt in the other…and people both working and shopping there might be likely to buy and wear either, and no one seemed to care. I grinned whilst standing outside one ice cream place because well, there was a group of sunburned white dudes in camo’s & hunting caps with thick good ol boy accents next to four or so African American women who I am guessing were family (sisters and mother), all chatting about how nice the weather was and how ice cream was good idea. It reminded me of VA Beach, Myrtle Beach, and even Daytona in many ways, but honestly seemed a bit more low key than any of those.

Observations about the Origins of Crackers who go to OC: Okay, not just the crackers even- but I think (and yeah, I ask people this shit- esp over dollar beers) most of the tourists who end up in OC come from Virginia, West Virginia, Maryland itself, Pennsylvania, and Delaware.

Food: Heh, neither Vlad nor I eat sea food, especially shell fish. In OC (and Maryland in general) crab is popular. However, you can get beef and chicken that tastes good in OC.

And now, More Observations from the Bus: First, the bus is pure genius- 2 dollars a day to ride all day? Genius. They have air condition! But what I noted most on the bus was this: regardless of race, gender, age, or language spoken, or any of that other shit, the people who were the biggest assholes on the bus- the ones who were drunk, loud, rude, inconsiderate, pains in the ass were…the people with money. It wasn’t the Russian gals heading home from their shift at wherever, it wasn’t the younger Uzbek guys heading out for a beer, it wasn’t the older Harley people going down to the boardwalk, it wasn’t even the guy with the racist prison tattoo. It was the people with money- the drunk college boys, the drunk married women, the group of sorority girls who we witnessed on Saturday afternoon…it was people like the Barbie and the Older Skeevy Dude we saw in the outside beach bar. That seemed more than anything to be the driving factor behind the who was an asshole factor….and this was plainly evident while riding on the bus.

Overall- I liked Ocean City and would certainly go back. Oh, and FYI, booze is illegal on the beach- Thongs aren’t.

Quote of the day…

Posted: April 11, 2010 in The Funny

In context…. Ren has down on their luck friends over….

Fridge is close, but Ren packs up all the beer into a cooler and brings it out back…

“Girl, you are the greatest hick..er, hostess…EVER”.