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July 2003 Archives

July 1, 2003

Fear & Loathing in "Lost Wages"

My ex-sister-outlaw…er, I mean in-law Debra Jean asked me for an update this morning. Apparently it has been 12 days since my last post. I didn’t realize that it has been so long since my last entry.

For that, I apologize. You guys need to call me on my slackerdom!

I was in Vegas last week for a whirlwind trip to locate and secure a property for my national convention for next year.

Vegas in June….mmmmmm sweaty.

I visited five properties in one day. Jesus God. If you have been to Vegas at least once you know the scale of things there. Enormahuge. Ginormous. (Shut up, they are too words.)

I thought that Texas had the market sort of cornered on the “bigger is better” rule.

Yes, there is a place in Texas (up in the panhandle) that has this catchy title as its claim to fame. ”If you can finish a 52oz steak in one sitting, it’s on the house!” Or some such bullshit. I am not kidding. 52 Ounces. That is like the size of a small child.

Anyway… I walked about 18 frillion miles in the June heat in Vegas and was still supposed to keep my wits about me enough to wheel and deal with the convention and sales managers at each property. Mandalay Bay is one of the 5th largest convention facilities in the world. The world! And that is where I started my Tuesday morning.

Oh, oh…. Did I mention that I toured all five properties in one day!?!?!?

It took us* two hours just to tour the convention facility at Mandalay. From there we went to Caesars Palace, The Mirage, Rio and then finished it up after dinner with a tour of the Las Vegas Hilton.

I was beat. The long day mixed with getting to bed pretty darn late the night before about brought me to the carpet. (For a nice nap.)

*Monday night when I got into Vegas I met my cohorts Jackie & Nancy for dinner. Jackie hails from Georgia and Nancy from Washington State. They are both members of my Board of Directors for the Association I work for. They are truly salt of the earth people. Kind, generous, witty and very pleasant to be around.

After dinner, (Actually during… I was running late & had to leave Jackie & Nancy at the table.) I met up with a girlfriend of mine who was in town. She lives in Houston and was in Vegas for a convention of her own. I had pulled a few strings earlier the week before and finagled two tickets to see “Mystere” at Treasure Island at 10:30pm Monday night.

Mystere is a Cirque du Soleil production. These people are amazing. If I had known about this company of performers when I was little, running away to join the circus would have been a reality. Sheesh. The balance, the grace, the sheer balls these people have.

I am still awe-struck.

Sure, sure… I know I wanted to be a ballerina… (or a trucker) when I was little… but I will forever dream of the bungee ballet that I witnessed last Monday night. If you guys have seen Tomb Raider, that Lara Croft movie with Angelina Jolie, she does a bungee ballet. Imagine that like a frillion times cooler, higher, faster, more graceful and you may get a jist of the bungee act in Mystere.

:::Sigh:::

You: Back to the present girlie girl.

Me: Hi there, I’m back.

Well, it’s time for me to go. I have to go the courthouse to pay a ticket, I get my stitches out today from my dermatologist. I also get to go to my GP Doctor to let him check my ears. I feel an earache coming on.

It’s either that… or scurvy.

July 22, 2003

Back from N'Awlins!

Oh what a wild ride it has been…

I know, I know, it has been a frillion years since I have updated and I am remiss for letting it go this long. No excuses. Ok, maybe a little one.

For the past week I have been in New Orleans putting on a convention for almost a thousand people. And for the few weeks before that I was putting the finishing touches on said convention. Does that count as a good enough excuse?

It was wonderful. I am exhausted, but it went very well.

I arrived in New Orleans Monday afternoon to have my pre-con meeting with the hotel staff and the production managers from GES. GES is a decorating company that provides the logistics (shipping and storage for my vendors), the pipe and drape for the exhibit hall and the signage for placing around the hotel and at the entrance unit.

If I may say so, the man that they paired me with, Brett, is truly worthless. Sure, he’s cute. But what do I care that he wears great ties and has a devil may care smile? He’s Useless! I have no need for a production manager that cannot manage the production of a show. His boss [who was so sick the weekend before I arrived that he had burst blood vessels in his eyes from the force of vomiting (ick)] was even there when Brett wasn’t. His poor shipping people did all of his work for him.

Starting day of the show was he there? Not until 11 am. Ending day of the show when all of my vendors have to break down their booths and ship everything back ‘from whence it came’ (love that… eh heh)… was he there? Not until 11 am again.

::: Sigh :::

I wish I had his schedule.

Monday’s pre-con meeting went pretty well. I met all of the managers from the different departments at the hotel. My main concern was the security staff and the banquet or catering staff. I had about $150k in meals to be served to my attendees, my vendors and my board of directors over the next five days. Things needed to go smoothly. The security concern stemmed from the fact that I had about 12 vendors bringing in several million dollars in merchandise. The “vault” that I arranged HAD to be tight. No exceptions.

Monday night we all met up at a restaurant called Mullate’s for the P.O.B. wrap up dinner. The P.O.B. is a Harley ride by a bunch of members of my association. They go on a 300 mile ride every year before the convention. The dinner was great. I love the camaraderie.

The board of directors meeting was Tuesday, that went well. I set up a great lunch for them while they were electing the new executive offices. I am quite intrigued to see how the next two years will go with the new president that they elected.

GES set up and added more booths than were on the schematic and delivered a few vendors’ freight to the wrong spots. No problem, I handled that.

To be honest, there were several problems this week. Not that any of my attendees ever knew. I ran about like a little fairy putting out fires quietly on a daily basis.

I had to fire my main door security and request replacements for my guard in the vault. I do not like to fire individuals, but if they insist on reading the want ads while on post at the front door of my exhibit hall, walk around begging for freebies from my vendors and basically giving off the impression that they are from the shallow end of the gene pool then I have to get all firm and stuff. If security guards do not give my attendees or vendors a feeling of being secure, then is it just me? Or are they not doing their job?

I don’t like wielding the power or anything, but if forced, I can get all Xena on your ass.

The convention days went very well. Many a vendor would stop me on my “rounds” to tell me what a great convention it was. The traffic was high, the faces were new and the business was being written. It was great!

Monday was for tying up loose ends, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday were my convention days, Tuesday and Saturday were my Board of Directors meeting days, and Sunday was for driving home.

Did I tell ya’ll that Mister came to get me?

He drove all night Wednesday night to get to New Orleans so I could wake up Thursday morning and see his sweet face. Isn’t that precious?

I was excited that he got to come of course because I was missing him terribly but also because I got to show him off at the Mardi Gras Party and Dinner on Friday night. He looked so handsome in his pretty suit with his new shoes.

He got a haircut and trimmed his beard really short.

I tell ya’ll what… that is one handsome man.

On our drive home Sunday, we went through Nacogdoches, TX. I lived there for so long but I hadn’t been back in over three years. Mister wanted to see where I lived and where I went to college. My old place of employment and the bar(s) [shut up, I lived there a long time] where I used to go dancing. And to top it off we went into the scariest place on earth. The Super Wal-Mart in Nacogdoches, TX. We had to tinkle.

About six years ago I saw a girlfriend of mine, Stacey the ‘Possum Killer, in said Super Wal-Mart. She said to me…

Stacey: Yanno Suz, Greg wants to live here when we get married.
Me: The Super Wal-Mart?
Stacey: No goober*, in Nacogdoches. But I don’t think I could live here.
Me: Why not? Would you be too far from your family? Is it the poor economy?
Stacey: No, it’s the language barrier.

Bwahahahahahaha!

*She probably did not use the term goober… gimme a break, it was a long time ago.

Aaaaaaaaannnnnyway, the point I was trying to drive home (like frikkin Miss Daisy) was that Nacogdoches is not on the cutting edge of technology, fashion, music or even dental hygiene, and the Super Wal-Mart is crawling with barefoot babies. Ick. Why in the world would people let their toddlers walk around a public market with no shoes on?

So I showed Mister my past and drove out of that town feeling like I was walking (driving, whatever) on air. I was done with that part of my life and realized I would never have to drive approximately 20 miles to get a gallon of milk again. Yay!

I’m back ya’ll. Let me hear from ya!

July 25, 2003

Rollins In My Eye

In the year of our Lord 2001 I was dating a whiny little princess named Marcus. I don’t know if you could call it dating. It was more along the lines of me trying to run him off with a stick and him thinking I was trying to play fetch. He just showed up one day and wouldn’t leave until I got him his own apartment and moved him myself.

Marcus was good for several things: dancing at gay bars, movies, introducing me to View Askew Productions and the joy of Henry Rollins Spoken Word comedy. He also had a fabulous fashion sense* except that his hair was trapped in the 80’s.

*I swear… this guy was so in denial about his sexuality.

But that is neither here nor there.

On a balmy Tuesday night in March of 2001 we went to a seedy place in Deep Ellum [a clubbing area in South Dallas chock full of all things punk, pierced and alternative] called the Gypsy Tea Room.

The line for admission was out the door and wrapped around the corner at two hours before show time. There were about 300 chairs set up theater style inside the darkness of the club and people were even stacked up in the back of the room, lined along the walls and sitting Indian-style in the front “mosh pit” area.

The Fire Marshall would have had a coronary if he could have seen the insane raping of the occupancy laws that were being committed in the club that special, special night.

I perched Marcus on a seat with my purse next to him and headed towards the bar to get each of us two beers. I had no idea when I would be able to get back to the bar, the line was sheer craziness and it was about 20 minutes until show time. I made my way back to my seat and handed Marcus his beers. I looked around at the crowded room. The din of noise was almost deafening. I heard something coming through the chaos of hundreds of voices.

Could it be?

Yes, it was, Al Greene’s Greatest Hits Volume I. I knew right then, that this Henry Rollins guy was a shade on the all-right side.

I had only heard of a few things that were related to the name Henry Rollins. I knew of the Rollins Band, a hard-core metal band that was pretty large in Germany and several other countries over yonder. I knew of Black Flag, another hard-core metal band that Henry was a part of back in the 80’s. And I knew that he was the thick-necked police tough guy in that retarded film starring Charlie Sheen, “The Chase”.

I did not go into that spoken word concert expecting anything. I had been to many comedic performances in my day, but this was not billed as stand up comedy, or even funny in any sense, it was billed as spoken word. Did I find it Pretentious? Sure. But I was game for just about anything at that point in my life. [Hence the Pomeranian I called my boyfriend.]

Right on time the lights dimmed and the crowd hushed immediately.

Yes, I was impressed.

This stocky no-neck walked onto the blank, black stage with a stretch black silk t-shirt, faded, denim jeans that fit like skin and black motorcycle boots on. Go ahead, take a look. Not the tallest man in the world, but JesusGod he exuded such an incredible presence. He immediately launched into a four-hour rant that covered everything from mullets to the English language. I swear to you people. I had never laughed so hard in my life.

Henry had just celebrated his 40th birthday and was showing a little gray. What can I say? Sexy. Even the strength with which he held and seemingly attacked his microphone (with sweat dripping off of him constantly) was somewhat erotic.

I learned several things that night.

1) That the English language is taken very literally all around the world. That an American may say to another American, “Get your shit together.” But a Russian fellow, upon hearing that phrase may repeat it as, “Your shit is all apart.” How beautiful is that?

2) That we are so used to having choices. Look at menus for goodness sake. When in a foreign country Henry and his band received a menu that said, “Your choice is fish.” Basically saying, you have no choice, live with it and be happy. I think “Your choice is fish” are words to live by.

3) Clitoral Bulge….. I think I’ll just leave that just the way it is and let you ponder.

A new band on the scene called The Ataris have redone the song “Boys of Summer” by Don Henley.

In the last verse the song changes the words to say BLACK FLAG sticker as opposed to the original lines that read:

Out on the road today, I saw a DEADHEAD sticker on a Cadillac
A little voice Inside my head said, "Don't look back. You can never look back."
I thought I knew what love was
What did I know?
Those days are gone forever
I should just let them go but-

I can see you-
Your brown skin shinin' in the sun….. et al.

Everyday I hear that song at least one time and so Mr. Rollins… you have been on my mind lately. Thank you for the entertainment and the education. I pray you come back to the Dallas area really soon!

July 29, 2003

Flock o' Flamingos and other niceties

I love Nora Jones. I have a girl crush. Pretty, long, flowing, thick, night-dark hair falling just so under her jaw. Full, pouty lips and the ability to sing with the sultry ‘too wise’ voice of a woman three times her age.

It was almost like discovering Bonnie Raitt for the first time again.


The following goodness was brought to us by Mimi Smartypants and the number 18.

THE BEST TYPO EVER
I am working on an article for a psychiatric journal, and the title mentions a treatment for "mooed disorders." Doctor, I am just so depressed. Hay sucks. Jumping over the moon sucks. Giving milk sucks. Moo.

What other diaryland diaryist can come up with two (count them TWO) verses of an impromptu song called dung beetle disco? I ask you… who?

She is so random. I really love to read her stuff.

Sometimes after work, or when Mister and I are on a road trip a nugget of Mimi goodness will come to the surface of my brain and I will giggle. Mister always asks what I am chuckling about and I try to tell him, I really do. But apparently he doesn’t find much humor in Mimi procuring a rhinestone setter and having the urge to make her own sparkly socks and maybe a t-shirt with the slogan “Gee! Your Hair Smells Ironic!” on them.

Is it just me?

Ok… fine.


Over this past weekend Mister and I went to my parent’s house for their 40th wedding anniversary. My sister, her husband (BIL), Mister and I planned to treat them to a full weekend. We planned 5 meals; breakfast, lunch and dinner on Saturday along with breakfast and lunch on Sunday. We brought them a cake from Central Market that looked like a tiny wedding cake (mmm butter creamy goodness) and a dvd player with two dvd’s for their present.

Sounds sort of over the top huh? Well, it was wonderful and they deserved every moment of it.

Last week my mother called my sister. They were talking about our plans for the weekend and my mother (due to the relationship* she shares with BIL (*scroll down)) said, “I can’t wait to see what you guys have in store for us this time!”

My sister called me to tell me what my mother had said. We did not have anything “gotcha!”-like planned for them. BIL’s powerful brain went to work and he came up with the perfect solution. He called this lady and arranged to have my parent’s flocked.

When I get the pictures developed, I will post them.

I was so excited Friday night that I didn’t sleep a wink. The flock was installed in my parent’s back yard Saturday morning at about 5 am. I stumbled out of my couch bed from hell (at about 6 am) and out onto the porch. My dad looked up from reading his paper and burst out laughing. He could barely contain himself from going to wake up my mother. She got up an hour or so later and went out on the porch to freshen my father’s coffee and squealed with delight when she saw the flamingos. She started calling all of her friends in the neighborhood an hour later* to come see her yard.

*We asked her to wait until it was past the ass-crack of dawn.

Gray (the nephew) was so excited. He was calling them a “buncha’ mingos!” How precious is that?


I am such a dork.

I had a dream last night that Henry Rollins was on the Tonight Show with David Letterman. And for some reason, David Letterman had an awful lisp* or stutter with the letter F.

David: So, Henry Rollins… hee heee! How do you like being FFFFFFFFamous with an almost rabid fffffffffffffffffffffollowing?
Henry: Well, David, I don’t see my fans as rabid followers.
David: Is that a ffffffffffffffact?
Henry: That is a fact David, I see them as more of an interesting and intelligent crowd that do not rely on fart and boobie jokes to make them laugh.
David: …… boobie…hee hee!
Henry: Take for instance this bright young woman in Texas who saw one of my spoken word concerts a few years ago. She still remembers the bit about my weightlifting neighbor who was so hopped up on steroids that she had a clitoral bulge. She even mentioned it in her diary online. The website is….

Then I woke up………. sweating.

Scary.

*Isn’t it cruel that lisp is spelled that way?

About July 2003

This page contains all entries posted to Suzanna Danna in July 2003. They are listed from oldest to newest.

June 2003 is the previous archive.

August 2003 is the next archive.

Many more can be found on the main index page or by looking through the archives.

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