whitegirlridingthebus

Sex, Love, Murder

2012-01-23T16:14:00.000-06:00

A rainy Saturday morning in Houston...perfect time and weather for a Metro ride. It has been ages since I have had a bus adventure, so I thought I'd head to the Heights for coffee and a Chinese New Year shindig. As soon as I approached my first bus stop, I saw a nicely clad man with all of his teeth holding a sign. Not your usual Westheimer panhandler, so I thought I'd find out his story. His name is Doug, and he shared with me that he has a business degree from Columbia University. His 14 year old son was at home watching t.v. as Daddy Doug was trying to make the rent. Doug had recently lost his job, so he decided that the River Oaks area was the place to be to make a little money. What an entrepreneur!Next weekend, I'm making a sign that reads Help A Teacher Out; Thanks To Rick Perry Budget Cuts, I Can't Afford Quality Sushi!. Rode the #81 to catch the #27. As soon as I approached the bus stop, I saw Crazy Crocs mumbling to himself and smoking a cigarette. I didn't take his picture merely because he scares me to death. Crazy Crocs is a 50ish white dude that has few teeth and smells of pee, but sports a really rockin' pair of black crocs. He got upset at his imaginary friend and wondered off at the same time a different looney came over to talk to me. Polo Bitch kept telling me that he has lived in his house for 35 years and that he has a lot of broken bones. Then he would laugh and tell me that he knew he was a bitch with his Polo shirt and Steve Madden shoes. Really? Where the hell is the bus? Another fresh smelling young man started telling me that waiting for the bus would be much more fun if we had a joint... I don't think so.The bus finally arrived and we learned that it had been rear ended by a car. The wreck made for a bus load of unhappy people, many of which were going to be late for their parenting class. One man told me that he didn't need anymore trouble out of Child Protective Services. I failed to ask him why he was in trouble with CPS to begin with because he began bending my ear about how some crack ho in the class wanted to have a baby with him. She is 24 with 5 kids. Stop! I want to get off! I finally made it to the Heights. After my exciting bus riding morning, I enjoyed a latte and omelet at Heights Ashbury Coffeehouse. Glenna Allen was playing the guitar and singing songs about sex, love and murder. Does life get any better than this? After breakfast, I had a noneventful day strolling and shopping. I got slightly excited when I spotted a trash can that said Bitch In! Unfortunately someone had turned the P into a B.Creativity is alive and well on 19th street. I waited an hour for #26 back to Montrose.No good stories on the return trip, but lots of time to contemplate my new panhandling sign.

Flippin' Sweet Preston Idaho

2011-08-27T15:00:00.000-05:00

Taterland

Tetherball the Napoleon Dynamite Way

Pedro's House

Napoleon's House
After a fun night in Park City, Utah, I headed north. When I decided to take a vacation to the Utah/Idaho area, I had two ultimate must-see destinations on my list of places to experience: Napoleon Dynamite's filming location and the Idaho Potato Museum. First stop, Preston, ID, home of the flippin' sweet tater tots. Preston is off the beaten path in southeastern Idaho close to the Utah border. Beautiful country with lots of chicken farms. I really expected to see Napoleon Dynamite billboards, or signs, or something when I drove in to Preston, but there was zilch. I stopped at the local gas station and asked the nice Prestonite at the counter if they had any N.D. maps for sale. She turned and screamed to Rita that a tourist needed Dynamite info. Rita told me to go to the local Mormon bookstore for a map. So I headed to the Preston Citizen.
With map in hand, I set out on my N.D. adventure. Everything in Preston is old and clean. I stopped first at the bowling alley, and was giddy with excitement remembering that N.D. had a bowling style similar to mine; then to the high school; then to my personal favorite the tetherball playground. The tetherball scenes were shot at the elementary school, so I had to rely on my handy $1 N.D. map to get me there. There was a school bus idling nearby, and the lady busdriver watched me like I might be a child molester as I jumped out of my jeep and squealed with delight at the sight of the tetherball pole. Her eyes never left me as I took a zillion pictures of the playground. That was fun, next! I got out in front of Perdo's house so I could stand on the sidewalk where N.D. and Pedro performed their sweet bicycle jumps. On my tour around town, I seldom saw any residents. I guess they go on their Mormon missions during August or something. I saved Napoleon's house for last since it was a couple of miles outside of town. I took pictures from my jeep since there were dogs barking and a teenage boy staring at me from inside the house. What! No Tina?!?! I drove back and forth in front of the house like a stalker trying to catch a glimpse of my favorite llama but to no avail. What a fabulous road trip. I encourage everyone to visit Preston, Id, and take the self-guided N.D. tour. What a dream come true. If this was so magical, what will the Idaho Potato Museum be like? Next blog I will report my spud findings and give the low-down on delicious Idaho breweries.

Stare Lake City

2011-08-14T15:24:00.000-05:00

School will be starting soon, and I haven't had a real vacation yet since I have no $$$. Have Mastercard, will travel, so I pulled out the map and decided to go west young woman. Utah was a cheap flight, and right next door to Preston, Idaho, the home of Napoleon Dynamite, so I decided that Idaho would be my final destination.
A firm believer in getting by with a little help from my friends, I boarded the plane already high on hydrocodone. I had busted my ass at the bowling alley the day before, resulting in my right arm being placed in a splint to help alleviate the pain. The brilliant doctor gave me a prescription for Celebrex(?) which I said to hell with since I knew my biker/baby boomer friends would have better pain killers for my trip. Definitely better living through modern chemistry. But no amount of drugs could save me from the one year old and her pregnant mommy sitting next to me for the three hour flight. OMG...where's my pills? I survived the flight, barely, then it was off to explore beautiful Salt Lake City. Of course, I knew that SLC was Mormon Town, but I wasn't prepared for an episode of Sister Wives. Everyone was white with at least five kids. No one spoke, they just S...T...A...R....E...D at you. I can't remember the last time I felt soooooo uncomfortable. I called a friend of mine who warned me that the Mormons were going to take over the world, and to get out of Utah as fast as I could. I think she's on to something, so the next day I hightailed it over to Park City. Upon arrival, I immediately found a place at the bar at the Wasatch Brewery. Susie and Kevin the bartenders and Brady the realtor told me that SLC was freakville and Park City was the place to be. So true! Brady told me that even ex-porn star, Harry Reems, lived a semi-peaceful existence in Park City. This town rocked. Beer was good and people were friendly. All tanked up on beer, I decided I needed some whiskey to take my pills with. The High West Distillery was my next perch. Amanda was my gracious bartender. She was originally from North Carolina but had been in Park City for about ten years. She, too, was a little afraid of SLC, and had noticed that those people have a staring problem. She was great fun, and told me that she really liked her marijuana. I can't remember how the subject even came up, but I do remember Amanda was positively giddy when discussing this topic with me.
Enough of Utah, so next day onward to Idaho the birthplace of Sarah Palin. I highly recommend Park City for a fun vacation. Go see Temple Square in Stare Lake City, then get out of town as quickly as possible. Next blog will be about flippin' sweet tater tot country...I LOVE IDAHO!!!

My Main Man METRO Marty

2011-07-15T16:57:00.000-05:00

After a laughter filled night drinking wine and Facebook stalking with my friend Nat the Horny Toad, I decided to be civic minded today and ride METRO for a few hours.I chose the #27 bus because it makes a loop around Houston much like 610 does but on a smaller scale. I boarded the luxury liner at Shepherd and Westheimer. As the bus stopped to pick me up, I snapped a picture of this beauty for my blog. The bus driver and an official looking METRO guy thought it was funny that I was taking pictures. I told them that I was whitegirlridingthebus, and that I had to document my journey. Whatever lady, take a seat! I sat behind a man who had fingernails that could give Howard Hughes a run for his money. Gross! He occasionally would put his hands in the air and perform some Black Swan-type moves. Too bad he got off at 11th street. Fingernail Man was the only crazy to board the bus during my two and a half hour tour. Boring until we got to Cavalcade. Finally the seedy part of H-town. Still only a few drunks walking the side streets. We continued on to Lockwood, when the official looking METRO guy asked me if this was my first time riding the bus.Duh, I'm a pro at this. His name is Marty, and he was on #27 training the new driver, Mr. Decker. Marty is a single parent raising a 9 year old son. Bless him! He starting working for METRO in 1980 and showed me a picture to prove it. Marty left METRO to work for Nabisco, but returned to METRO twelve years ago. He is the nicest, most helpful employee I've ever dealt with. Marty told me all about the Clinton/Wayside community, and even showed me where the new tracks for the rail were being laid. I was sad to see Marty and Mr. Decker get off at the Magnolia Transit Center. We all had to change buses, and a fellow rider named Cynthia helped me out. Hell No! I couldn't take her picture but she was charming all the same. The route took us all over Houston's back forty which is largely industrial until we hit the med center. It was a non-eventful two and a half hours, so I will go back to walking and riding the bus downtown. I hope to visit with my main man METRO Marty again in the future. If you've got three hours to spare, I highly recommend (yawn) riding the Inner Loop Crosstown #27.

Heights Ashbury Coffehouse

2011-07-10T18:32:00.001-05:00

Suffering from post-4th of July holiday blues syndrome, I decided that a nice ride on Metro would make me feel better. Boy did it! As I waited on the #81/#82 at Westheimer and Weslayan, I conversed with an urban street dweller named Curtis. I had to pay close attention to him when he spoke since he was missing all but six of his teeth. Curtis used to be a professional wrestler in South Carolina thirty years ago until his heart attack. He had that damn attack because he weighed 305 lbs. Curtis told me that Nutrisystem didn't work worth shit, so he just started walking and riding a bike (sometimes he was forced to steal a bike if someone stole his first). Exercise and living on the streets are the keys to effective weight loss. Note taken. Curtis is a man of faith, and shared with me his belief that Jesus saw to it that people would give him money in his empty Whataburger cup. You gotta love a positive thinker.
Off to my destination in The Heights: Heights Ashbury Coffeehouse. I had read about this hip, new establishment, and wanted to check it out. And I was not disappointed! The owner is Katy Whelan, and she has created a warm, groovy atmosphere for all to enjoy. My latte and breakfast taco were both wonderful, but the best thing about Heights Ashbury is the people. Katy opened this place about 3 months ago with the hope of making it a gathering place for music, coffee, poetry readings and other fun things. She definitely achieved her goal. As I enjoyed the local musical talent, I got to know Katy's boyfriend, Charlie. I liked him the minute he said he was from the Dallas area, but liked Houston much better than the Big D. Go Houston! Charlie is a photographer and beer connoisseur. Now that's a winning combination! He was so friendly that I would have bought a polaroid from him if he had pulled one out. Heights Ashbury is definitely on my list of favorite Houston coffeehouses, and I look forward to a return visit.
Time to head home. While waiting on the #26, a handsome hispanic youth with gang tattoos on his neck came up and asked me if the bus had come yet. I told him no, that it would be coming in a few minutes. He started talking about a nap, a chicken, and his mother, so I inconspicuously put my hand on my taser in my bus bag. As the bus approached, this confused lad told me "that Mexican lady across the street LIED TO ME!!! The bus hadn't come yet!" He was highly agitated about this so I kiddingly replied "you can always trust a gringa". Right when I thought I was going to get shanked, he replied "thank you ma'am". Sometimes the scariest looking/acting people end up being the nicest. Coffee and new experiences make for a memorable Sunday!

Eufreaka Springs

2011-06-20T10:22:00.000-05:00

Finally summer is here. That means road trip time and hopefully good blog material. The weirdest place I know on planet earth is Eureka Springs, Arkansas, so what better place to go and write home about.
My sister, Lila, and I left her palatial estate in Gravel Ridge for our Eureka adventure Saturday morning. Shortly into our trip, we encountered two donkeys pleasuring each other in a pasture by the side of the road. What fun! Before you could say "ass-lickin'" we had passed these passionate lovers and I had been too exhilaratingly shocked to take pictures.Damn it! I had a feeling this was going to be a fun trip.
We stopped for gas in Clinton where we were surprised to see a shoeless woman in the restroom. Lila and I snickered and pointed then ran back to the safety of my Jeep. I love Arkansas! Onward to Eureka. We arrived without further incident and checked into our hotel. We were informed that there was a National Scion Convention headquartered at the hotel, and they had already warned those young people in their souped-up nissans to shut the hell up. OK, maybe we will make some new friends... Eureka is a great place to walk, shop and people-watch. After browsing the Rowdy Beaver and other fine establishments, we decided it was 5pm somewhere and hunted for a local watering hole. We by chance found a scary bar called Rogue's Manor. The bar was dimly lit and you had a full view of the rock and springs underground that made Eureka famous. Our bartender was Stella who was originally from Conway, but has been in Eureka Springs for 12 years. She is married to the local tattoo artist. Stella showed us her husband's latest masterpiece on her arm. It was a zombie Elizabeth Taylor. I must say it creeped me out a little because I always think of Liz in Giant!, not as a decomposed monster. I'll have another tequila with a beer chaser please!!! Stella's tats were beautifully done, but they really contributed to my heavy drinking while we were at Rogue's. To top off my drunken paranoia, Stella told us that she often sees the ghost of Dr.Car and his dead cat at night. Yikes! Eureka is full of ghosts and it never fails to make my neck hairs rise when told about a ghost sighting. I took Stella's picture, then I saw there was a ghostly orb in it. I decided if I kept drinking it would make it all go away...no such luck. Lila and I made it back to the hotel in one piece where the Scion Asylum Car Show was in full swing. I passed out with my 38 close by.
Sunday morning came quickly. I went outside to investigate the Asylum fanatics. A very surly beast from Dallas told me that Scion owners get together once a year to show off their cars. One chulo drove 2200 miles to be there. This calls for another day of drinking I do believe. Lila and I ate, shopped then heard a live band and headed towards it. It was at the New Delhi bar and restaurant. The band was Rachel and the Holy Rollers, and they were set up outside on the patio. We found a table next to a lady with a basket full of prescription meds in front of her. Lila asked her what happened to her and she put her drink and cigarette down momentarily to reply that she had fallen off the sidewalk and broke her foot. She was feeling no pain so we all kicked back to clap along to Rachel's church service. Most of the band's songs praised Jesus, so I suppose this is considered Sunday morning religion the Eureka way. Eddie the Jewelry Maker stopped by to show us his latest creations. He had a cool bracelet made out of copper wire. Too bad I didn't have $150 or that sucker would have been mine. As Eddie showed us how he made his jewelry, he told us that his family was the first anglo family to migrate to this area in 1823. He had some incredible stories, so next time I'm going to buy some of his wares so maybe he can go see a dentist...

Alas the service was over and it was time to leave. Fun times are always had in Eureka. It is obvious why this place is lovingly referred to as Eufreaka. Looking forward to my next road trip here to buy jewelry and attend Sunday morning worship and see some local ghosts. Next week, Houston PRIDE!!!

The Wonderful Biggest BBQ Cook-off and Drunkfest

2011-02-27T10:19:00.004-06:00

Still not being able to quite kill the pneumonia that is roosting in my right lung, I decided that maybe walking thousands of miles around the Reliant Stadium grounds might be exactly what the doctor forgot to order for me. I set off on my bus ride, where we were packed in like sardines, listening to an elderly gentleman scream for 5 miles about everything that was wrong with America today. He wouldn't shut up because I kept interjecting loudly AMEN! every quarter mile. That was fun. Now, off to the rail where I showed a nice lady next to me my cool taser. She was impressed and wanted to know where she could get one. I told her that I was going to buy a bunch of them and sell them on the rail platforms during morning rush hour. She promised she would be my first customer.
Once I got to Reliant, I had to walk FOREVER to get to the drunkfest. Lordy; next time I'll wear Depends and bring an inhaler. Finally I found it, and I knew it was big, but not this stinkin' big. Have we had an influx of asian cowboys recently? Even when I was sober, I saw tons of asians in boots and little shorts.But, I was happy to see that all nationalities enjoy partaking of the Cook-off. It took a few hours, but I eventually found Dirt Road, which is the BEST DAMN BBQ COOK-OFF TEAM EVER. I am biased since this spot belongs to my good friend, Kathy Oxspring and her husband,Bart. It felt good to sit down and drink, and drink,and drink. I talked to the Oxsprings friends, Jay &Kelly Jones. Kelly is a realtor(I think) and Jay kept telling me to buy Jones Oil so I assume he is Jones Oil. Jay's family is from the great state of Arkansas. WooooPigSoooiiieee!!! We swapped Clinton stories ( his mom dated him and I almost slept with him). I had a great time at Dirt Road. More beers later, Kathy's friends, Derrick,Delane and Ryan came by. They were all cute, young and perky, so I guessed we bored them so they left. By the time the sun set, Kathy and friends departed and I stayed to make sure that all the beer didn't go to waste. The band was playing and I talked to many drunken interesting people that I can barely remember. I stumbled around the cook-off looking for my partying friend Lizette, but to no avail. I thought I spotted her half-clad on the mechanical bull...could it have been? Too much fun for one night, but I will definitely put Rodeo Cook-off on my things to do next year. Now I see why they call it the World's Biggest BBQ Cook-off. They should really add Drunkfest to the title ...

Don't Tase Me Bro'!

2011-02-06T14:03:00.000-06:00

Super Bowl Sunday. I can either grade papers or go downtown to the Houston Gun & Knife Show. So, I threw my camera in my bus bag and headed to the killing fields. Of course, my bag was searched at the door and the friendly Houston po-po threatened me with bodily harm if I took any pictures inside the show. What??? How can I blog about such a great event without documenting it on film?
The place was HUGE and it was definitely a man event, but I did my best to look tough and blend in. The first booth I stopped at was Sparky's Tactical Weaponry. A nice gentleman asked me if I needed a taser. I said fo' sho'; whatcha got? He then pulled out the top of the line Cheetah and gave me a lesson in tasing. When Sparky told me I could carry my Cheetah inside schools I was sold. Writing out detention/office referrals is such a waste of my valuable teaching time. I can't wait to try it out tomorrow morning. Oh, you don't want to say the Pledge of Allegiance? ZAP! Oh, you don't feel like bringing a pencil to class? ZAP! Oh, Mrs.Menotti, you talkng to me?ZAP! Next gun show, my friend, Ashley, will have to go with me to speak gun talk to these people because I could only smile and shake my head so much. Everyone was so nice, so I asked a couple at one booth why they wouldn't allow pictures to be taken. In a low voice they told me it was because if anything "went wrong" they didn't want it publicized. With that little tidbit it was time to go.
Once I got home, I thought I'd better check out my Cheetah, so I tased my cat, Mishka, then I tased myself to be fair.What a rush! This was like Valentine's Day come early. I think I'm going to have a good week at school...

That's What She Said!

2011-01-03T16:52:00.000-06:00

Oh, the miracle of Facebook. It's been fun this past year finding old friends along the digital highway, but even more fun when all can come together in person to celebrate the past. So, it was great when Paula said she would organize a little get-together with a few of the old Cabot crew from 35 years ago. Bama Belles ain't got shit on the Cabot Belles From Hell! Our raucous group consisted of Paula, Shelly, Renee, Pam, Kim, Jodie and whitegirlridingthebus. It was nice to see that we were still 12 year olds at heart, but thank goodness we could now add alcohol to our already sick minds. Being well-bred Arkansans, it's against southern rules to spread gossip first, so Paula had the grand idea to play charades so someone else at the table would speak the unspeakable first. I'm pretty sure the hottest piece of Cabot gossip EVER had something to do with a gay shoe salesman and thumping headboards. I was still discussing with Renee why everyone was talking about Ms. Puss...like who the heck was she? I think I missed something in translation. Booze usually makes my hearing more acute, so I ordered more wine. The more I drank the funnier Paula and Shelly got. Paula continued to hold her shoe in one hand, and a wineglass in the other. Shelly was fully loaded while waving a knife and a wineglass. Pam and Kim were drinking beer, so they weren't as fermented as the winos. Thank goodness for Jodie who didn't drink. Every group needs a mature adult...

I don't know who mentioned slashing tires first ( I'm sure it wasn't me), but hell has no fury like a Cabot mommy scorned. Shelly began to grow horns and a tail as she talked about wanting to get the lil bitch ex-girlfriend of her son's because that tart had broken his heart. This is a prime example of why I love my Arkansas friends. Texas women choose guns for due process, and Arkansas women grab the closest knife. These girls are up close and personal. We were all in agreeance that Shelly had every right to inflict harm on that girl and/or her car, but Shelly was out of control with her wine and knife, so Renee suggested that I call my spiritual advisor, Dr. Thumper, to help Shelly find enlightenment. Shelly would have no part of it. I tried to get Dr. Thumper on the prayer line many times during the evening but to no avail. Paula suggested I fed-ex an autographed book to Shelly when she was calm. Hopefully Santa delivered the good news to her Christmas morning. Thank G-d for the fruit of the vine which our wonderful waitress, Audrey, poured liberally. We had a blast playing charades and sharing prison stories. YaYa's probably won't remember us, so we are all looking forward to round two next year. Pam, you're in charge of bringing Ms. Fureigh because I'm dying to see that old bat. Revenge is definitely a dish best served cold. Ladies, arm yourselves, because that's what she said!!!

Insane Clown Posse

2010-12-08T20:43:00.003-06:00

I love it when people my age jump around and act like fools, so I was thrilled when my BFF, Charlotte,told me that her boytoy could hook us up with free tickets to the Insane Clown Posse concert at the Warehouse on 12/6. Although it was a school night, I thought it was well worth losing a few hours of sleep for.
I got on the internet Sunday night to listen to the ICP Christmas cd. OMG!!! It was the most disgusting thing I had ever heard. I couldn't wait for the concert. This was going to be epic.
As I walked up to the Warehouse to find Juggalette Charlotte, I came close to getting puked on by a rabid, wheelchair-bound ICP fan. Fast thinking saved me from sporting vomit soaked jeans, but my luck wouldn't last. I saw a line full of insane clowns and decided to talk to a few. The first dedicated fans I interviewed were Candace and Gary from Louisiana. They had even driven to Florida last year for an ICP throwdown. They were a lovely couple, and I hope they survived the melee. As I spied a rowdy, drunken group to talk to, a gang of juggalos ran past us, spraying coke/bourbon/? all over us. Better than puke...I guess. Everyone was having a high 'ol time when Boytoy Jay took me inside for the bloodbath. By the time Juggalette Charlotte arrived, the party was in overdrive. I've never seen so many saggy pants in my life. We downed some drinks and tried to blend in.
The opening act looked and sounded like they would probably eat a litter of kittens for Sunday dinner, but Charlotte and I had a good laugh over them and the audience in general.The later it got, the more scared I got. What's a middle-aged school teacher doing in a place like this? I was obviously not in the spirit of the evening, so I got another drink. I attempted to look as high as the rest of the fans, but since I was able to stand upright I knew that wouldn't work. My BFF and I threw our hands in the air and acted as stupid as we could. No one bothered us and all was well.

Jay and Charlotte left to get something to eat, and I had to fend for myself. ICP finally came on stage and the crowd went ape-shit. I kept waiting on the sound of gun fire, but the fans were too drugged-out to bust a cap in anything. I longed for a shower and had seen enough for one night, so I bolted for the exit and prayed I'd make it out alive. On my drive home, I sent Charlotte a text that I had left. About 30 minutes later, that juggalo sent me a text saying that ICP had just gotten on stage and it truly was INSANE! Hahaha-I have no idea who I was watching but it was enough craziness for me. From now on I'll stick to riding the bus. It's safer!

Born To Be Wild

2010-11-07T17:12:00.003-06:00

I haven't had a good blog since Buffalo, so I thought the Lone Star Motorcycle Rally in Galveston would make for interesting fodder. Since I don't own a motorcycle, my Jeep sufficed for the journey to biker land. I'm thankful I went while the sun was still high in the sky, because a billion drunken bikers would be too much for me to experience after dark.
My first stop was the NRA tent, where they were running special rally discounts on memberships. Sign me up! Not only did I get a year's membership for a mere $25, I got to pick from a hat, t-shirt or knife for my membership gift. It took me about one second to decide on the kick-ass NRA knife. This will come in handy on my future bus rides. Armed and happy, I continued my walk through the vendors. I stopped to talk to Bill from West Virginia. He was selling custom made hammocks. Every biker deserves a siesta after a long day of beer brawls and blood-lettings. Go to www.wiskybilt.com to get yours today. After many sightings of beautiful bikes and biker outfits, I stopped to talk to Bob of Howling Helmets in California. He and his dad make custom helmets topped with various dead animals/roadkill. For a mere $2, I had my picture taken wearing a dead fox helmet. There were plenty of varmints to choose from, so email Bob at ajnbob13@aol.com today to order yours. April of Cheeky Chaps was kind enough to model some handmade, styling chaps for me. People are so friendly here. Nothing says happiness like cold beer at noon on a Sunday. The later it got, the more toothless grins I received from biker prison dudes. I thought Gatorfest had some toothless people, but Lone Star Rally was running a tight second place in the missing teeth race. Still, bikers are so nice that a person could overlook the lack of enamel with these road hogs. While shopping in the Sons of Anarchy tent, I overheard some ex-cons reminiscing about their days as hired killers in Cali. Holy shit! What is a little school marm like myself doing in a place like this? In order to blend in, I bought some skull license plate holders, and nodded my head like I could relate to their Life in the Big House memories, then ran as fast as I could, with NRA knife in hand ,back to the family friendly booths off of The Strand. I think it's time to head back to Houston.

I talked to some more easy riders, and was surprised that these bikers came from all over the USA to party in Galveston. It was truly a sight to behold. I'll go back next year...with reinforcements.

Buffalo: Go Big, or Go Home!

2010-10-06T20:22:00.000-05:00

I love an underdog, so it makes sense that I would love Buffalo, New York. I traveled north to a convention on 9/29, and ended up getting a first-class education. When I arrived in the big Buff, it was overcast and about 60 degrees. I checked into the Hyatt, and proceeded to walk down Pearl street to the Pearl St. Brewery. Whenever I travel, of course, I map out the bus/rail/walking routes to all the cool beer joints. Google Earth never quite prepares me for the scary sites I'm about to see. Everything looks pristine from the heavens. Flashback! 1970, downtown Memphis, TN. My walk was through a bombed-out war zone. So sad that I needed some drinks. At the Brewery, my delightful barmaid, Carmen, told me that whatever you do in Buffalo, go big, or go home. At that moment, I fell in love with this tough city. After I was thoroughly hydrated, I walked back to my hotel along scary-ass Main Street. A couple of blocks into my walk, I spotted a vandal carving something into a tree. A strange man wielding a knife in the second poorest city in the USA...looks like a party, so I stopped to question this criminal. He was Dave the Painter, and he was carving the name of his youngest daughter, Jena, into a sycamore tree. I asked him a stupid question like WHY??? and he said it was like she was there, but wasn't there. These Buffalo natives speak in strange, little snippets, but I told Dave he rocked so he asked me if I wanted my name carved in the tree. HELL YES! Who needs children to achieve immortality when Buffalo Dave can etch your name into a living, breathing part of a city? As I continued my drunken stroll down Main St., I was blessed to meet Buffalo hobo natives, One-Legged, Retarded Jimmy and Mentally Ill Mike. They begged me for $$$ and told me that they loved Buffalo, so I gave this dynamic duo a fiver and took their pictures for my blog. This city just gets better and better.

Dave the Painter

One-Legged Jimmy

Hobo Mike

The next evening I hit a couple of touristy bars and was not impressed, so I asked my Buffalo native bartenders at the Hyatt where I should go for drinks and maybe a tattoo. Richard and Jen highly recommended Elmwood Avenue and Cowpok Tattoos. So, the next afternoon, after a crack-dealing city bus ride to and fro Niagara Falls, I hopped the #20 bus to Elmwood. I grabbed a beer and some chips for my late lunch, and proceeded to window shop along the avenue as I hunted for Cowpok Tattoos. Once there, Buffalo Donny said he could certainly sear a really righteous buffalo into my lower leg. Sounds good. Once I got back to my hotel, I looked at Donny's masterpiece. It looked more like a chicken wing than a buffalo to me.That's ok since Buffalo is the birthplace of chicken wings. Since then I've been told it looks like a flower, furry squirrel and a pile of dirt. Whatever, because it's the journey, and not necessarily the outcome ,that makes life worth living. And, like they say in The Queen City, go big, or go home!

Texas Gatorfest

2010-09-12T17:35:00.000-05:00

Thanks to my Aggie friend, Ashley, I decided to drive out to Anahuac today to partake in the festivities of Gatorfest. Ashley said she thought I should venture out to hell's half acre to see what all the hype was about. Never listen to a pregnant woman. I'm convinced that the fetus just sucks the ability to think rationally out of the mother's brain. I'm lucky to be alive.
It was about 150 degrees, with little shade in sight, when I arrived at the Texas Gatorfest. I was dying of thirst, and felling dizzy, so I decided that an airboat ride would cure me. What a blast! That's the only way to travel on water. On to find a cool drink. I decided to try some alligator nachos with a gallon of water. Now that's the rub. Feeling refreshed, I was drawn to a tent with lots of knives and a couple of sparsely-toothed men. Mike was from Brenham, and Dan was from Bell County. Mike makes knives out of stone and deer antlers. They were very knowledgeable about primitive weaponry, so I asked Mike if I could put him on my blog. He said he didn't know what that was, but he was certain he didn't have one. After much explanation, and help from semi-computer literate Dan, Mike said, sure, put him on this blog thing. Wait a minute, Obama's not on my blog, is he? I assured Mike that the federales really weren't interested in my blog, yet, so he was safe. On to the Gulf Coast NRA tent. They were selling $5 raffle tickets to win one of three exciting gun packages. The one I bought a ticket for was the home invasion package. My eye was drawn to this bad-ass shotgun that looked like a machine gun. I can't even remember what other firearm was included in this package because I was so enamored with the assault shotgun. Hope I win!
Time for the Great Texas Gator Roundup. I couldn't decide if the old fossil doing the announcing was cajun, or if I was just losing my hearing, but I could barely understand a word he said. But who needs commentary for this stuff. There was a parade of trucks that would drive up to the scales, stop, then the gator killers would jump out and heave their bounty onto the ground from the truck beds. The announcer kept incoherently yapping as the swamp people would show off their kills. What family fun for a Sunday! These people rocked. I want to go on a gator murderfest soon. I think I'll be an Ice Road Trucker during the winter, and a Gator Cowgirl during the summer. Note to self: lose some teeth soon.

Everyone loves a dead gator

The Texas sun was taking a toll on me, so it was time to head back to H-town. I'm looking forward to my first gator hunt. Still awaiting word of my home invasion package delivery. A big thumbs up the Anahuac, the Gator Capitol of Texas!

Beer, Quail and Chapstick

2010-09-06T11:31:00.001-05:00

The hardest labor I wanted to do this Labor Day weekend, was hoisting that full glass of beer to my mouth, and clicking the up/down channel button on my tv remote. All the right college football teams won Saturday, so what to do the rest of the holiday? Duh, drink more beer. What better place to do that than at the Galveston Brewfest at Moody Gardens. Since I am a patriotic American, I felt it was my duty to give back to my community by volunteering to be a pourer at Brewfest.

Galveston was beautiful and packed. Got to Brewfest, and was assigned to work the New Belgium table. I've never been a fan of their beer, but I am now! The Houston rep for New Belgium, Andy, was there explaining to the drunks all about the beer. He moved to Houston two weeks ago from Fort Collins, CO, which is the home of New Belgium Beer. Andy was a cool, laid-back guy. I liked him because he made frequent trips around Brewfest to drink from the other breweries that were represented. I poured; Andy drank. Everyone wanted to ride the cool Fat Tire bicycle. Sorry, it's for looks only. By the end of the evening, Andy told anyone that stumbled by to take a ride around Brewfest on it, and they did. I was surprised, and a little dismayed , that no one was taken out by the Fat Tire Gone Wild trips. Andy was handing out New Belgium chapstick as a promotional item, and I was fascinated that drunk people got super excited over that shit. Hotel Galvez was set up next to New Belgium. They were serving the most heavenly quail I've ever had. Mothership Wit beer, quail and chapstick were the belles of the Brewfest ball. By the time Brewfest ended, the volunteers were as inebriated as the paying customers. Jennifer, the sales and catering executive of The Tremont House and Harbor House, was kind enough to hook me up with a room at The Tremont. The po-po was out in full force, so I thought it was best to stay on the island and continue my partying.

It took forever to get from Moody Gardens to The Tremont, but it was well worth the hassle. The Strand was rockin', and so was harborside. Shouldn't these people be at Sunday night church services? Every place was packed, so I strolled back to The Tremont to enjoy the rest of my island vacation at their bar. The bartender looked to be about 16 years of age, and acted it, also. She had the bar tv on Extreme Home Makeovers, and seemed really into it. I was about to tell this idiot that this was a bar, not a sorority house, when she became a genius, and switched stations to Nancy Grace. Never judge a book by it's blondness.

The Tremont House was a fabulous place to stay, but it was time to head back to reality Monday morning. The valet guys at The Tremont were friendly. Jay told me he had turned 21 this summer, and partied down in the Bahamas at Atlantis. To be 21 one again...what am I thinking? At 21, I probably couldn't have fully appreciated the tasty pairing of New Belgium Beer, Hotel Galvez quail and a hearty smear of chapstick.

Andy the New Belgium Dude

Leah the Fat Tire Race Winner

Jay the Valet

Senseless in Seattle

2010-08-04T09:46:00.004-05:00

It was sad to see Oregon Brewfest end, but my heart was joyous knowing it will be back again next year. With that in mind, I loaded up the rent-a-Volvo and headed to Washington. I felt like I was back in elementary school since George Washington's silhouette is on all the road signs. At first, I panicked thinking I should be writing my A,B,Cs or something, then I realized it was just post-traumatic stress syndrome and calmed down. The drive to Mount Saint Helens set me on edge again. Memories of it blowing it's lid in May, 1980, came rushing back. The drive to the volcano was scary good, but I believe finding a good therapist back in Houston is in order. I certainly see why Seattle has one of the highest suicide rates in the U.S.A. Where's my xanax?
On to Tacoma, land of the beautiful lattes. One thing I noticed about the Northwest is that every latte I got had the most lovely artistic designs on the top of the foam/milk. With an aestetically pleasing latte in hand, I toured Stadium High School, which is where 10 Things I Hate About You was filmed. I raised my cup to toast Heath and Julia, then broke out singing Can't Take Me Eyes Off Of You. That didn't last long. Security had no appreciation of my public singing skills.
Off to Seattle to look for the crew of Grey's Anatomy. No luck spotting them, but great luck finding cold beer. I was blessed with the company of an old friend, Gale Hermandorfer, that I had not seen in 34 years. Good beer and good conversation; what could be better? We were tossing them back at Pike Brewing Company, which had marvelous food and beer. The original Starbucks is only a couple of blocks north of here, so you can get every kind of buzz on in downtown Seattle.

Goodbye Heath

The next day, Gale and I met for round 2 at Harmon Brewery in Tacoma. More fun and laughs ensued. It must have been the elevation because I can't remember the last time I had this much fun, and fun is what my life is all about. It was sad to leave Washington in my rent-a-Volvo but therapy was calling my name. I will be back for round 3 as soon as I get my xanax refilled.

Dead man in Seattle

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Creepy St. Helens

Keep Portland Weird

2010-07-29T12:42:00.003-05:00

Finally, it's time for my summer vacation. I love Portland, Oregon, so I decided to plan my Portland visit around the annual Oregon Brewfest. It's always the last full weekend in July, and this year 78,000 rowdy drunks were in attendance during the four day swigfest. What happens in Oregon, stays in Oregon (and goes on my blog).
I took Metro's Airport Express to IAH and loved it. My bus driver was Joseph, and he's been driving for Metro for over 25 years. He was great. I encourage Houston to hop the bus to the airport next time you leave Space City because Metro is the only way to travel, especially if you have been drinking...
Portland was cool and sunny. I got on the #15 bus to ride to drinks, I mean dinner, and was acosted by The Busdriver from HELL. He screamed at me for not filling my bus- pass out correctly. I was so amazed that anyone screams in Portland, which seems to be Let's Get High City U.S.A., that I rode for 2 blocks then got off. I thanked The Busdriver from HELL for his helpfullness as he continued to yell at me, so I then called him a rude-ass motherfucker and told him he should thank his lucky stars I didn't shank him.

Next morning was the beer brunch and parade where I only talked to shiny, happy people. I loved that the mayor of Portland, Sam What's His Name led the parade of drunks to the waterfront for Brewfest. What a trip! Who doesn't love a parade? Houston needs a brewfest. Everyone was thrilled to be strolling the streets of Portland with beer mugs in hand. Once we got to Brewfest, I was like a kid in a candy store. So many beers, so little time. People came from all over the globe for this experience and it was well worth it. I met many interesting characters, and partook of tons of great brews. I attended Brewfest three days, so I do believe I'm a beer expert now. After Portland, it was time to hit the brewpubs in Tacoma and Seattle. More on that after I've convalesced a couple of days. Remember, when it's time for a beer, like for breakfast or something, think Oregon then drink Oregon!

Thou Shalt Not Covet Beads

2010-06-27T10:58:00.000-05:00

What better way to start off the morning of Pride than with a trip to the Kemah farmers market. I road tripped over to Laporte to catch a ride with my friend Charlotte down to Kemah. Hotter than a mofo, but we managed to have more than a few laughs while on this shopping extravaganza. The Ghost of Bob Marley sold us some hippy hats which Charlotte got us the teacher discount for. My hat and bracelet came to a grand total of $17. I handed the Pride of Jamaica $20, then I had to tell him how much change to give me. Please, kids, stay awake in Math class or this will be you one day. Or... just don't smoke your breakfast before going to work. We finished the morning with a detailed tour of Laporte. I had no idea there was so much to do there(yawn). Main street was a buzz with Pride fever(not). Still I enjoyed my outing(?) with Charlotte and look forward to our next excursion.
Later I stopped by W2W to be the bead fairy, then off to Empire for an afternoon ,then night, of debauchery. They started my day off with a 2010 Empire Cafe Pride t-shirt and some sort of alcohol filled coffee drink. Wow! 4pm and it's time for a Pride stroll down Westheimer. After my stroll I was back on my Empire bar stool. What to drink now? Tony suggested a dirty martini and I agreed since I like anything with the word dirty in it. Double WOW! I was privileged enough to warrant a seat outside with the Empire Pride crew and their swinging families. Mary, Shannon and Cory all had the coolest moms EVER. Families that Pride together stay together is my motto. Mary's mom, Mary V., told me stories about the Sting concert the night before (thanks a lot Mary). Hopefully I can attend a concert with Mary V. and her friends in the future. Conversing with the Slokars and the Pipers was a great kick-off to Pride.

At 7pm we all had our own Pride parade down Westheimer to Mary's brother Cedomil's place. Croatians certainly know how to have a good time, so after another martini and a shot of tequila it was parade time. My mistake was standing at the street barricade. Stupid Drunken Bead Whore and her boyfriend spent the first 30 minutes of the parade hitting me in the back and head while grabbing at flying beads. At one point I looked at her and said "stupid bitch" and her slurred reply was " what bitch?". I contemplated beating the shit out of this skank but decided that jail was not an option, and Pride promotes peace and understanding, so I backed away from the street and showed my Pride in Cedomil's front yard.
I decided to make my way back to Empire for more martinis. Along the route I stopped to talk to friends, students and parents. Nothing like having a PTA meeting during the Gay Pride Parade. Safely back at Empire with my martinis, Jeff entertained me by reading the Houston Press personals aloud. What's a regular Chinese girl? Is there an irregular one? The martinis were clouding my thinking and the parade was over, so I headed home looking forward to another successful Pride celebration in 2011. See y'all next year!

Willie Green, Discovery Green, We're All Green!

2010-06-25T09:35:00.001-05:00

Time to redeem my St. Arnold's carriers for precious points. Thursday at Discovery Green , St. Arnold's will give you double points for the carriers you turn in to be recycled, so now my beer account has 50 points in it. I can't wait to go shopping! Since I was wearing my Keep Portland Beered shirt, a lovely, beer drinking couple, Richard and Susan Nelson, stopped to share with me some places to swig beer in Portland and Seattle. Although Richard is an Aggie, and Susan is from Mizzou, they had lived for several years in the Northwest. I'm looking forward to next month when I am in Portland and Seattle, lifting a cup of brew in honor of the Nelsons.

The sky looked ominous, but that didn't deter the drunken crowd from dancing and having a good time as Joe King Carrasco played tunes that took us all down Houston memory lane. All ages were cuttin' a rug under tornadic conditions. It takes more than a little turbulent weather to make Houstonians stop partying and go home. On my way to my bus stop, I stopped to read the sign donated by BP about what a green, wonderful company they are. Ha! That's the funniest thing I've read this summer. Onward to catch the #82 where I met a great downtowner, Willie Green. He has lived downtown for 14 years and is a native Houstonian. He was well versed in the law and spent quite awhile explaining to me the difference between a class c misdemeanor and a felony. In fact Willie told me he had just gotten out of the city jail for a class c misdemeanor which was for enjoying a few beers on the streets of Houston. Po po don't like that shit! Hide your beer unless you are stumbling out of a swanky Main St. club then the po po looks the other way. Average citizens like me and Willie will be sent to the big house for having a little public fun. He shared with me the pros and cons of city, county and state lock-ups. What an eye opening education I received from Mr. Green. I think I'll do my darndest to be a law abiding citizen because no incarceration sounds like a picnic to me. I liked Willie and will have to talk to him in the future. His parting pearls of wisdom were to stay away from those Pierce Elevated folks because they is crazy! Amen Brother Green.

Will Road Trip for Peaches...and Beer

2010-06-11T23:12:00.001-05:00

Nothing says summer like a road trip to Fredericksburg,TX. My friends On Golden Pond were dying for some fresh peaches, so that gave me a good reason to make a run for the Hill Country. With orders in hand, I loaded up the Jeep and hit the road. I was helping Blur sing Girls & Boys when I realized I had taken the wrong exit off of I-10. Oh well, surely this road will hit Highway 71 somewhere up ahead, and, besides my favorite song Drunk Girls by LCD Soundsystem was on and needed my full attention. It's so hard to clap and steer at the same time. I'm pretty secure in being lost, since I've spent a good portion of my life in this state and have lived to tell about it. Sure enough, I found the road to Austin after a few(dozen)miles.
Had to stop At Ruta Maya in Austin for a latte. I talked to the coolest barista named Nathan. He lamented about the fact that Austin had gotten a little too commercialized over the past 10 years. He also talked about why we call it an "alarm" clock instead of something a little more soothing. The world has gotten faster, which Nathan and I think is sad, so I grabbed my latte and ran to my Jeep! I am 100% American and proud of it.
Got to Fredericksburg and stopped at Silver Creek for lunch. There was a local songstress serenading the customers. All of a sudden, she quits playing her guitar, stands up and yells "OMG! I'm in pain! It's my period!" Don't hold back sister. Gloraline then grabbed her tip jar and went inside for a beer. Who could blame her? Later I headed out to Chisholm Trail Winery where I imparted the story of Gloraline to the Wine Mistress. I thought she was going to pee her britches and I got a nice laugh retelling the tale myself. Everyone is happy in the Hill Country. Wine Mistress recommended the Crossroads Saloon for a drink. You don't have to tell me twice, so I headed back in town to check this place out. I had a great bartender named Jon who could pour a mean Pinot Noir. I struck up a conversation at the bar with John and Susan Hever from Johnson City. They told me the best place to buy peaches, and also told me stories about drinking wine with Lyndon and Lady Bird Johnson's youngest daughter, Lucy. The Hevers brought a tear to my eye when they said that the highway from Johnson City to LBJ's ranch in Stonewall was lined with people on both sides to pay respect to Lady Bird when she was taken home to be buried. We then toasted the Best First Lady Ever! John raises longhorns and asked me if I knew anyone that wanted to buy one. I said my friend Ashley wanted one. I forgot to mention that she was a crazy Aggie and would use that poor steer for target practice. The Hevers rolled out to a party, and I rolled out to another bar. I then drank wine at Lincoln St. with the manager, Danny, and some unnamed strange guy that appeared out of nowhere and talked about Idaho for 2 hours. Maybe I was slightly inebriated...maybe not.

After peach shopping the next afternoon, I decided to make a detour home and tour the Real Ale Brewery in Blanco, TX. What a treat. It was nice to see the place full of drunks at 2pm on a work day. Gabrielle, the Mistress of Brew, was serving up wonderful samples of Real Ale as fast as she could. I always support Texas and Arkansas breweries. OK, I support any brewery but Real Ale is definitely in my top 5 .This road trip was a success, and I'm hoping The Ponders will ask me to go back this summer for more peaches...and beer..

The Astros=Bad Sex

2010-05-31T20:52:00.000-05:00

So far it's been an unmemorable Memorial Day weekend. What better way to chase away the blues than a baseball game. But it's the Astros..oh well. Jumped on the #82 headed to Minute Maid Park Monday morning. A gentleman in his 50s or 60s got on carrying what looked like to me a vintage phonebook. I thought what is this freak doing reading a phonebook that was like 40 years old? Then I spied diagrams...bomb making diagrams! You've got to be kidding?! In Houston effin' Texas! Our bus barrelled up Louisiana Street. I felt like I was a bus riding extra in the movie SPEED! This was The Best Bus Ride Ever! Suddenly the Dennis Hopper-wanna-be must have realized we passed the federal building, so he pushed the stop requested strip and got off dazed and confused about 7 blocks north of his target. Read about you in My Yahoo! News manana.
Minute Maid park is a beauty, but why is the top on? That sucks, but so do the Astros. Thank G-d for Angela the Mistress of Beer. She made my day by carding me when I got an adult beverage. Go see her across from sections 124-125 at The Union Station. The friendly employees make up for the disaster on the field.

Houston played like shit. I am the biggest fan of the guy that hopped out of the right field boxes during the 7th inning, ran straight across the outfield. cleared the center field fence, then was dragged out of the ballpark by security. Marry me?!?! Another disgruntled fan attempted this feat in the 8th inning but was tackled in center field by the waiting po po. Fans aren't getting their $$$s worth from the players, so we might as well be entertained by the fans. Jon and Kate minus eight sat in front of me and were interesting for a little while. She nagged her cuckolded mate as he surfed porn on his phone. What a happy American couple. I paid 40$$$ for this? Astros need to teach some fundamentals at practice if they expect to win and get any people to pay to see them play. Some drunk ladies in the restroom said "you know what the Astros have in common with bad sex? ...Everything! hahahahaha". So, I thought about it and came up with this-it starts out fine, then starts to go down hill from there; you hang in there hoping things will improve until you just have to scream STOP THE MADNESS!!! Happy Memorial Day!

For The Homies By The Homies

2010-05-22T11:02:00.000-05:00

What better thing to do at the end of a grueling work week than to treat myself to some excruciating pain in the form of a new tattoo. I saw where Reliant Center was hosting a humongous Tattoo Expo this weekend, so I figured that would give me a chance to ride the rail AND meet interesting people. My friend, Jamie, of Wes & Jamie, has been telling me for months what an adventure riding the rail is. Jamie has reminisced many evenings at Water2Wine about the ambiance of of her rail commutes to and fro the med center during her work week. I couldn't wait to experience the smell of rotting garbage(and people), and the pimps attempting to cut their hoes...or is it hos? I'll ask Monday at school.

The rail ride was uneventful to Reliant, so I could only hope for better luck once the sun went down. Reliant Center was filling up with Houston's finest tattooed citizens. Artists were there fron TX, Louisiana, NV and Cali. The air was electrified with the buzz of the tattoo guns. I began my stroll around the expo, stopping to chat with varied artists about their creations. I then spied lots of hemp necklaces, Bob Marley t-shirts and glass pipes and knew that was where I needed to be. The purveyor of these delicacies was Chambah the Rastafarian. He sells his goods on South Congress in Austin. He said Austin had more hippies than Houston, so he made more $$$ there. Since I speak only English, and a smattering of Spanish and Hebrew, his Rastafarian lingo was lost on me. I liked King Chambah, and told him I would see him in Austin one day. On to the tattoo contest. It was just like Miss America. Contestants lined up and waited for their names to be called. They then sashayed up and down the runway, stopping to graciously pose for pictures. I got great shots of Brad from Houz Of Ink on FM 1960 and Crack Girl from Shreveport, LA. This really made me hungry for some new ink, but I only had $60 bucks...what's a girl to do? As I eventually made my way back to the starting point of the expo, I talked to David of Penitentiary Ink out of Long Beach, CA. Cholo Dave immediately asked me for some shrooms and/or pot, so I figured I could trust these guys. David told me the Big Lou would be honored to give me a new tat for $60. Oh boy! What a great night! I told Lou to remember he wasn't still in the big house, and please be gentle with this little, white school marm. After a relatively painless 15 minutes, I was sportin' a brand new tattoo. Life doesn't get better than this. I'm now an official homie since Penitentiary Ink's motto is For The Homies By The Homies. The band was rockin' some Stone Temple Pilots when I bid a sweet adieu to the Tattoo Expo. Now for the rail ride uptown. No crazies at the rail platform. At the first stop, a couple of unsavory gentlemen got on, then half a dozen smellies boarded at the next stop. I had my camera poised for shooting, then, all of a sudden at the med center stop, the stinkin' Metro po po jumped on screaming Get out your tickets! Get out your Q cards! It was like a Chinese fire drill but with homeless ants. Po po always spoils the fun. Sorry Jamie! I'll try again in the future. It was only 10pm when I got off the rail, so I went to Khon's for a few drinks. The Cory Wilson Jazz Group was playing. I was impressed, so if you ever get a chance to hear these young guys then do so. You won't be disappointed. No better end to a Friday night than sharing drinks and stories with my buds, Shannon and Cory and Khon. Like the great Chambah told me about age, I'm not getting older, I'm just getting more exposure.

High Priestess Christine and the Enchanting Times

2010-05-16T17:29:00.000-05:00

Friday marked the end to probably my hardest week of 2010. Time to welcome the queen of shabbat, and what better way to do that than drinking at my friend Jill's house. I love lapsed Catholics. Jill made sure I had an adult beverage at all times, while her husband, Brett, painted upstairs, consequently tripping on fumes for most of the evening. I told Jill I needed candles, bread and wine for the start of shabbat. She did pretty good for a goy. We had a Lady of Guadalupe candle, unkosher white wine and some kind of berry-nut bread. Since G-d has a sense of humor, I thought this would do in a pinch. I look forward to more shabbats at the Williams.

Saturday was dull and rainy, so I decided Sunday would be my bus riding day. I hopped on the #81 line around noon and transferred to #27 heading north to the Heights. No bus action, but I found plenty of interesting people once I got to Psychic Sunday at Temple's Gate. Once I walked in, I discovered that Temple's Gate was now Enchanting Times. They had only been open a couple of days, so I really lucked out. My favorite tarot card reader, Joelle, was there. She offers enlightened spiritual solutions to people. Joelle has read my cards several times, and she has always been right on the money with her readings. She told me my health and life in general was good. Exactly what I thought, especially after some crazy bitch fortune teller at the Renaissance Festival told me I would die of a heart attack soon. I want a refund! I then talked to Reverend Christine. She has been a studying and practicing witch for 22 years, and teaches Eclectic Wicca classes to the public. Teresa, the store's owner, told me that she took a class from the good reverend, and that's how she ended up buying Enchanting Times. Her daughter, Holly, works with her at the store. They were all friendly and extremely informative. I then conversed with Feather the Good Witch. She gave me a real education on Paganism and Wicca. I had no idea they were so involved. I wouldn't mind taking a class from Feather to learn more about her practices. Her husband, Dancing Rabbit, is an accomplished author. They suggested some authors and books that I should read to learn more about the worship of Mother Earth. I feel empowered to start the work week tomorrow knowing that I'm not going to drop dead any time soon.

GONZO247

2010-05-09T15:46:00.000-05:00

Looking for something different to do Saturday, so I got on Artshound.com to see what I could find. I saw that the Aerosol Warfare Gallery had an exhibit called American Women. Hey, that's me, so I decided to give it a shot. I looked up bus routes and figured I'd ride #81 or #82 to Pierce, then board #88 to St. Emanuel. Since is was a semi-nice, breezy day, I thought I would skip riding #88 and walk from Louisiana and Pierce to The Aerosol Warfare Gallery at 2110 Jefferson, Ste 113. What a scary, friggin' walk! If Houston has 4 million residents, I would say that 1 million of them on living on the streets around the Pierce Elevated/St.Joseph's Hospital area. The downtowners I've talked to never threatened me for $$$ like the Pierce Elevated folks. I think it's the first time I've jogged since volleyball practice my senior year in high school.

Finally I arrived at my destination. The gallery is about a block southeast of Kim Son's in the shopping center where Jenni's Noodles used to be. It was well worth the trip once I met the owner, GONZO247. He is the friendly, talented artist/owner of The Aerosol Warfare gallery. This is a street/urban art gallery and resource center. They invite artists to show their artwork in between quarterly featured exhibitions. Aerosol Warfare is closed on Mondays and Tuesdays; open from 11am-7pm on Wed, Thurs, Fri; and open from noon to 8pm on Sat and Sun. GONZO247 has been a part of the urban art scene since the early '9os. He started out having grafiitti art parties in abandoned buildings/warehouses. I wish I'd known since 17 years ago I could have still been into a little breaking and entering in the name of art. I'm too old to out run the po po now, so I'll just hang out with street artists like GONZO247 in a safe environment. He has had Aerosol Warfare Gallery for three years, and Carolyn Casey of CKC StART conducts youth art classes here when there's a need. All teenagers and tweenagers who are interested in urban art should contact CKC StART for more info.

GONZO247 gave me a tour of the gallery. I was so impressed. I will definitely make a return visit to make a purchase. Some artists that were showing were GONZO247, PILOT(my favorite), Dirk Strangely, Tommy Castillo and Jim Mahfood. Google Aerosol Warfare Gallery and check out the upcoming events. Call 832-748-8369 for directions and more info. See y'all May 15th at the Haters Make You Famous dvd release party!

Guns n Run for the Roses

2010-05-02T16:56:00.000-05:00

Get under the bar! Tornadoes everywhere in central Arkansas this Kentucky Derby weekend. This native Arkansan knows to stop, drop and roll under the nearest bar when those screamin' demon sirens go off. So, might as well go out happy with one last drink. I was in Little Rock for my friend Christian's graduation from grad school/Kentucky Derby party. I get the warm fuzzies when I go back home to be surrounded by my gun-totin', Jeffersonian friends. These people are the salt of the Earth, but I would never want to piss them off since they can shoot much straighter than myself.

Saturday was the Run for the Roses. Christian and Brad had a kick-ass party. All guests were welcome to drink and/or play with Brad's extensive gun collection. The honorary viking was the first to get into the spirit of Derby Day by wielding an AK-47 for the camera. Brad then showed everyone the true way to hold this mofo of a gun. After several party goers ran around with these bad boys, Brad checked to see if the guns were loaded. They weren't, but we were! Maggie and Christian know how to make a mean mint julep.

Race time! Christian got us all teary-eyed during the singing of My Old Kentucky Home when she reminisced about smoking her first cigarette in '93 at Churchill Downs. What precious memories. Then the horses ran, I lost, time for another mint julep; time for the real party. All of Little Rock's finest turned out in their derby hats. My favorite guest was Bama Buff who wasn't afraid to hoist a big-ass rifle and toss back some mint juleps. Put these Little Rock wild women on our country's borders and we will all be able to sleep well at night. The Kentucky Hot Browns were delicious, and the atmosphere electrifying. Lila told us that Alabama was known as the S and M center of America, and Arkansas was #1 in transgenders/sexuals...I forget which one exactly but #1 in trans-something. Jenn amazed us all with her knowledge of Skirt Man and Spandex Man. They are both LR icons. Jenn even helped Skirt Man try on skirts when she worked at Chico's. Who says that Little Rock isn't a liberal hotbed? I've actually seen Spandex Man with his big boner in several central Arkansas eating establishments. Gross! Too much viagra will kill you Spandex Man. Stop the madness.

With more killer tornadoes approaching central Arkansas, I bid adieu to Christian and the gang and headed to Jan and Charlie's to take cover. I always enjoy my visits home especially when parties are involved. All weekends should include guns and horses!

Khon's Suck Fest

2010-04-26T15:50:00.000-05:00

Another weekend of Houston International Fest, so I thought I'd make a return visit Saturday since I had such a rockin', good time the week before. Bad decision. The line to get in was as long as the line at the DMV office, and the people were equally as customer friendly as they are there. The elderly, leathery woman behind me snarled " you know you have to have a ticket to be in this line?". Thanks Captain Obvious. I could only hope with her recessive genes that she would leave Ifest with one helluva sunburn. Bitch.

It was too boring for this swinger, so after listening to Los Pistoleros and Zydepunks, I rode the bus to Khon's. This is a great bar on Milam at Drew. Beer is cold and the people are friendly. I told Khon that I would be back on the sabbath to booze it up. Khon said he would be having a crawfish boil after 3pm. Wow-a totally unkosher thing to do, so count me in.

When I returned to Khon's on Sunday, there was Houston's hottest indie musician, Mr. Cory Sinclair of The Manichean. I was elated when hottie Cory invited me to sit at a table with he and his friend, Mark. Mark was a mudbug virgin like me, so I was a little less nervous about my first time sucking head. Cory sucked like a pro. Mark and I started catching on until someone told us we were eating crawfish shit. That sort of took the wind out of my sails. Elation returned upon the arrival of my buds Mary and Shannon. Mary is the Croat, and Shannon is the Bowling Alley Slut. A fun time always follows these head suckers. With the appearance of Justice, Josh, Austin, Ashley and Mo, the suck circle was complete.

Khon's is a great hang-out, and lots of major crawfish sucking went down Sunday. Not that I'd do it again, but I enjoyed the experience and especially the company at the Khon's Suck Fest.

got shrooms?

2010-04-18T08:33:00.000-05:00

April means that it's time for the Houston International Fest. This weekend and next weekend, tons of Texans will head downtown for music, food and libations, as we salute the Caribbean. In staying with the Ifest theme, I wore my "got shrooms?" shirt. It always makes for good conversation, and my METRO driver was the first to get a nice chuckle from reading it. Line 82 always has pleasant drivers who seem to enjoy the diversity of their clientale.

I got to Ifest around noon, and headed straight to the beer tent. Something about the sound of steel drums makes me thirsty. I think the beer tent workers had been doing a little quality control with the kegs before I arrived because they were way too happy to see me. Maybe beer just brings out the best in people. I then went shopping and stopped at a cool place called Just Pop It! Debbie and Dan from Kingwood sell these super wonderful bottle poppers with college mascots on them. What a great idea! I bought six of them since that's how many bottles are in a six pack...actually they make great gifts so I stocked up for my friends.

I then headed towards the Louisiana Stage since The Mark May Band featuring Miss Molly was going to play in a little while. Miss Molly brings back blissful memories of the early 90's and Party on the Plaza. Miss Molly used to wear a tiara and crack a huge bull whip over the audience as she sang. Good times, good times. I got sidetracked heading to prepare for Miss Molly, but ended up watching the MacGregor Elementary Steel Band. These kids were awesome. They were so good I had to get another beer. Once again, I was headed to the Louisiana Stage when Justin the King of Ifest grabbed me and told me I could win some shrooms if I made this hellacious putt. He tricked me! But I did get a fabulous conciliation prize of a bottle of Citracal. Now I'm a winner with strong bones!

While waiting on Miss Molly to begin, I talked to a nice lady named Glenda. She told me she was a METRO driver. She's my idol! I believe she said she drove the #20 line, so I will have to check out Miss Glenda's bus one day. As the music started, there was a man wearing a pirate hat with a fake parrot on his shoulder rollerskating to the beat. He was really good. I would have busted my ass several times attempting this guy's dance/skate moves. His name is Cliff, and you can see him rollerskating around Houston often along Westheimer. Who says Houston's not a green city??? FINALLY, the still marvelous Miss Molly was on stage. What a voice, but where's the tiara and whip? I guess she hung those up with the 90's. Miss Molly is still the best in my book. All that music made me thirsty again so I meandered back to the beer tent then off to shop on Bob Marley avenue. Those vendors really enjoyed my shirt which had more than a few beer stains on it by late afternoon. The Caribbean and shrooms make for a perfect Saturday in downtown Houston.

Isaac and the Promised Land

2010-04-11T09:01:00.000-05:00

A beautiful Saturday once the storms blew away. Decided to visit Discovery Green to see what Yuri Day was all about. It's great that such a dynamic capitalist city like Houston can pay tribute to the first communist in space, Yuri Gagarin. My bus ride was swell. Marvin the Bus Driver even pulled over to let one of my bus buddies lean out the bus door to hand one of his street buddies a cigarette. I bet the Phillip Morris company loves METRO. Downtown Marvin told me to have a fun, safe day, and I told him I would pray for him once the sun went down.

At the Yuri booth, our own NASA gave me tons of material about space flight. I hope our liberal congress will keep funding NASA because they certainly support our schools. Yuri Gagarin was the first human to go into space on April 12, 1961. Thanks to him the USA decided we'd better beat those russians to the moon, so, in short, that gave birth to our glorious NASA. Thanks Yuri!

The Astros were at home, so Minute Maid Park had the roof open on this sunny spring day. Nice and breezy on my walk through downtown. The corner of Main and Walker is like the epicenter of weekend action. As I was watching a few downtowners get tossed out of the convenience store, I was intrigued by one gentleman who seemed to know everyone and tried to keep the peace. His name is Isaac, and I do believe he is the most interesting downtowner I've interviewed to date. Isaac is 48 and has lived in various locations around the downtown area for 20-plus years. He is a native Houstonian, and he loves his city. Isaac told me he can find up to $200 a weekend along Main St. since all the drunken bar patrons drop money as they are stumbling from bar to bar. Isaac told me that he considered downtown Houston to be the Promised Land. He told me this several times in our conversation so I know this revelation was close to his heart. Isaac pointed out several buildings and told me what was there now and what was there 20 years ago. He showed me the place where his parents bought him his first bicycle when he turned 5 years old. Everyone knows him downtown. Even after his three stints in prison, he would come back home to downtown and his clothes would be waiting for him. Isaac told me that the downtowners take care of each other. He also said that when the bars all close down at night and it's quiet, downtown gives him peace of mind. Isaac is a prodigious reader siting Kellerman, Patterson, Grisham and Cook as some of his favorites. He was a wonderful tour guide. Isaac asked if he could buy me a beer, but I wanted to check out Flying Saucer, which ended up being a little too fake for me. Next time I'll toss one back outside with the prophet of the Promised Land, Isaac!

Houston is a Small City

2010-04-04T10:56:00.000-05:00

Rode #82 downtown to Discovery Green on April 3rd for an Earth Day celebration. I thought Earth Day was always April 22nd, but knowing how Houston likes to be a trend-setter, I assumed we just wanted to get a jump on the rest of the USA. Only one rider was threatened by the bus driver to be tossed off if he didn't turn his music down. Now that I think about it, the bus driver looked a lot like Snoop Dogg. Knowing that Snoop Dogg worships plants that are grown naturally from the earth, I think he would make for one helluva fun bus driver on Earth Day.

Discovery Green was filled with earth loving Houstonians, and lots of organizations were there promoting clean/green living for our city. Of course, I had to stop and chat with my peeps at the Metro booth. They were so friendly until I suggested they hire more vegetation loving rap stars to commandeer their busses. Metro had no comment...

As I was leaving and walking to my bus stop, I saw a cool dude wobbling down the middle of the street talking to himself. It was 80 degrees and he was dressed for a heavy snowfall. He made it through the intersection unscathed, so hopefully I can find him next weekend for an interview.

Walking down Milam, I spotted a barefooted gentleman sitting amongst a dozen trash bags. His name is Raul, and he has lived in Houston for 14 years. I asked if the bags were his home, and Raul replied that they housed his winter wardrobe. He said that we might have another cold snap, so he was going to haul them around for another week then dump them. I wonder which bag his shoes were in??? Raul was quite adamant that Houston was a small city and that the biggest city ever was 4 hours east of here. It doesn't have a name, and Raul got a little agitated when I asked if he was talking about New Orleans. He began wildly gesticulating towards the east and proclaiming that HELL NO, it's 4 hours that way! When I asked if I could take his picture, Raul told me no ma'am because his shirt was dirty. He was then fixated on this utopian city 4 hours that way, so it wasn't long before I told him he'd best invest in a good pair of shoes if he was going to walk down the yellow brick road to the biggest city 4 hours that way. Bye Raul...send me a postcard!

Breakfast of Champions

2010-03-27T23:11:00.000-05:00

Another beautiful Saturday in Houston,TX. I decided to go downtown to the Anjelika to see the documentary The Art of the Steal. It was great! Took a stroll over to City Hall and met Nathaniel on one of the park benches. He has lived in various locations in downtown Houston for the last 30 years. At dusk, the friendly HPD tells the local park dwellers to move along, so Nathaniel spends most nights under various I-45 bridges. He eats a lot of his meals at the downtown missions, but they don't serve beer for breakfast, so Nathaniel has a couple of favorite convenience stores he stops at to grab two 40 ounce beers every morning. He lived in downtown Boston for awhile. Nathaniel said he liked it better than Houston because he had a job. He said he worked at a research facility that did animal testing. I couldn't make out what he was saying when I asked him exactly what his job was, and I do believe I am thankful for that. I wished Nathaniel well and headed to the bus stop. I boarded the #81 and was the only rider on it, so I thought I'd ask the driver how long he had been driving for Metro. Wrong question! He replied with a snarl that he didn't have to give personal information to NOBODY. I told him that he was correct and took my seat quickly. Most Metro drivers are nice, so I looked on the Metro website to see if it mentions anything about drivers and customer service. Sure enough, it says that bus operators are expected to interact with passengers in a courteous and helpful manner. So, to whomever was driving the #81 route, bus #3614 @ 7pm on 3/27, you're an asshole!

A Streetcar Named Woo Pig Soooiiee

2010-03-17T15:20:00.000-05:00

New city, same great characters. I went home to my birthplace, Little Rock, Arkansas, March 13th for spring break. My friend, Jan, and I decided to check out Diamond Bear Brewery at 3rd and Cross St. The #1 bus runs by it, but there's no bus stop close to Jan's house so we drove instead. The first thing I saw when we entered the brewery was a badger skin sitting on a table. Then a large, happy drunk man loudly proclaimed that it was his badger and he was Mark the Professional. Professional what I don't know, but I have my suspicions. He grabbed Jan with a huge badger hug and kept repeating 'badger, badger, badger'.The brewery tour hadn't even started and I had gotten my moneys worth (it was free). The tour and tastings were fabulous, and we were only reprimanded for bad behavior a couple of times. I highly recommend Diamond Bear Brewery if you are ever in Little Rock and want to experience the local color and flavor. Beware the Ides of March! My friends Kelly and Julie told me I should ride the streetcar in downtown to see the sights. What an excellent idea! So, on March 15th, I visited the LR Convention and Visitors Bureau kiosk in the River Market. There I talked to Charlie O the Transplanted Yankee. Charlie O was from Boston but moved to LR a few years ago. He was very friendly, and extremely helpful to this ex-Arkansan. Charlie had that great accent that I imagine confuses some tourists asking for directions in LR. Charlie O went over the streetcar info with me then sent me on my way. I hopped on the Green Line that makes a rectangle around downtown LR. My driver was Jerri L. the Steetcar Conductor. Jerri is a native Arkansan who has lived all over but has driven for Central Arkansas Transit for three years. She, too, was very friendly and helpful. A big thumbs up to the LR streetcars. Later I rode the Blue Line. It takes you over the creek to North Little Rock. Talked to some nice people from Des Moines, IA, who enjoyed the streetcars,also. Back at the River Market I had the pleasure of conversing with Dennis the Shoe Shine Man. Dennis is 60 years old and has been shining shoes all his life. He also makes his on jewelry. Dennis had great stories about shining shoes all over the world.He has never been a convict and has always worked hard to provide for his family and himself. Dennis had some great stories about some well known Arkansas politicians, but these can't be printed until all the old cronies are dead and buried. Little Rock is the place to go if you are looking for beautiful scenery, extraordinary people and fun public transportation.

Give Peace A Chance!

2010-03-07T10:22:00.000-06:00

The sun always brings out Houston's finest. I decided to contribute to global warming today and take my car, instead of the bus, to the Quakers Peace Festival on West 26th street. I parked out of sight so the hippies wouldn't slash my carcinogen-spewing, gas-guzzling vehicle. My good friend, Tammy, joined me at the festival. It was way too sedate for two party girls like us, so we said Happy Trails to the vegans and jumped in Tammy's luxury, fossil fuel burning car and headed to Cedar Creek. A couple of blocks away we encountered this cool dude riding a cooler. We had to talk to this American patriot. Anyone riding a cooler down a Houston street while proudly displaying our American flag is tops in my book. His name is Bobby the Surfer and he restores antiques and keeps the neighborhood supplied with beer. Flashback to 1971! Make love not war! I'm pretty sure his shorts were vintage Vietnam war era. Bobby gave me a tour of his cruisin' cooler and it rocked. Tammy and I look forward to our next visit with Bobby the Surfer. On to Cedar Creek where I spied some fellow co-workers relaxing on Peace Day. Then we met some cool dudes that were fans of whitegirlridingthebus. They gave me some suggestions for future bus adventures. They also told me that James and I would make a smokin' hot couple...we'll see. Either #26 or #27 will take me close to this happening section of town, so stay tuned for when I ride the bus and make new friends.

*** Bobby the Surfer's cruisin' cooler was actually motorized!!! ***

Yeehaw! Let the rodeo begin

2010-02-27T18:05:00.000-06:00

A perfect day for a bus ride downtown. Sunny with a temp around 50 degrees. Jumped on #81 at 1pm to see the movie Shutter Island at the Anjelika. Good movie. At Pease and Smith I talked to a very interesting man named James. He is 44 and lives at various locations in downtown Houston. James told me that he used to work in Washington,DC developing the top-secret Mars satellite. He still has high level security clearance but couldn't tell me more than that because the military police might snatch him up. James also is friends with the President. He was too busy to attend the inauguration last year, but he hopes to be visiting his buddy in the White House soon. Right when my bus arrived, James asked me if I had a boyfriend. To be continued...
What an exciting day! On the way home, there was a rockin' protest at Westheimer and Montrose. Of course I had to hop off the bus and investigate. First I talked to the people of Bulldog Ministries who were crazy enough to come to the heart of gay Houston proclaiming that G_d hates homosexuals. They just weren't as festive as the gay side of the street. I really liked the Honk if you support GAY sign. My ears are still ringing from all the honking. I must say that the rainbow supporters had the most creative and aestetically pleasing posters. The gay-bashers should really do something about their drab signs and wardrobe. It's just another fun-filled day in the 4th largest city in the USA.

Holidays are boring days on Metro

2010-02-15T14:21:00.000-06:00

Sunny, windy and 48 friggin' degrees at noon in Houston. Hopped on the #81 down from Lamar High. Only 6 other people on the bus. No drunks or loud, obnoxious people. No fun, so I hopped off at Empire Cafe for a latte and scone. Alicia and Tiffany filled me in on the Obama/communism plot to take over public education. No sleep for me tonight. Then my teaching cohorts Hasina and Jessica gave me tips on scary bus rides and titles for my future blog posts. A fun time is always to be had at the Empire. Then I hopped on the #82 home. I think my next ride will be Friday around midnight. That should be highly entertaining. Thank you Shannon for your kindness to myself and my friends.

2010-02-15T10:32:00.000-06:00

Happy Presidents Day. I'm about to look up Metro's holiday schedule so I can see downtown in style . #81 & #82 are my favorite routes. Never a dull moment on these busses. Holidays bring out my favorite bus buddies. Hopefully I'll have some good pics to post tonight.

2010-02-14T21:27:00.000-06:00

White girl riding the bus will debut on Monday, 2/15/2010. Chinese Year of the Tiger. That's me motherfuckers, so it's time to meet downtown Houston,Texas. I LOVE this city!