Hamptons Summer, Farewell

end of Hamptons summer

The Hamptons summer is over. Another chapter scribbled into to the comic book of life and Dan’s Papers.

The official conclusion of a Hamptons summer is marked by the Tuesday after Labor Day, known as ‘Tumbleweed Tuesday’.

end of hamptons summer tumbleweeds

Do I have to explain everything? The rest of the stragglers, hanger ‘onners roll outa’ here as if they were tumbleweeds! Hence the phrase ‘Tumbleweed Tuesday’. Oy vey!

We local folk are like, thank you, and leave now! We had enough of the traffic, the attitude (‘tude’), crowds, yada yada yada.

And Just Like That…

And just like that, summer is over. So sad. Not really.

When the summer peeps roll out of the Hamptons, it is like loosing your bloat after a menstrual cycle.

Girlfriends, ya know what I am talkin’ ‘bout! It’s like hallelujah, I can finally fit in those pants again!

Now that summer peeps are ensconced in NYC, I can finally score a dinner reservation at the posh restaurant Bistro Ete and make a left hand turn onto Montauk Highway.

Thank you summer peeps for not being here!

Hamptons Summer Memories

As I reflect on my summer of 2022, here are just a few quintessential Hamptons moments I will share with y’all.

COVID, Hamptons Summer Style

Well, we all thought COVID was over, but I got COVID in June. Despite getting four vaccines, having a great immune system, still got it.

That she-devil COVID decided to hang out with me in the Hamptons for the better part of the summer. You know what I am talking about. I am cool with any guest staying a few days, but for several weeks with no end in sight? COVID knows no boundaries.

COVID is a horrible house guest. That girl is a user and a taker. She sapped all the energy from me… I was exhausted from hosting her. She just barged into my life, unannounced. What a Biatch! She used me to stay in the glamorous Hamptons for a summer experience. Her plan was to invade the Hamptons and party every night. Boy, that girl has big balls!

Not on my watch Sistah! I caught her right away, and never let her out of the house.

And I ask you…Why me? I did everything for her. Let her sleep as long as she needed; did not ask her to help around the house; and I fed her great meals. And you ask, what did she do for me? That biatch gave me post-COVID migraine headaches that promptly started every day, for several weeks at 5pm. NO cocktails for Gay. I was drowning my pain and agony in Excedrin for Migraine Headaches with Advil chasers.

That Biatch finally lost her hold on me…and she packed up and left. I was just shy of getting an exorcism.

Share the Hamptons Summer Roads

Nobody, no one shares the road during a Hamptons Summer. Cyclists, bicycle riders, runners, joggers, walkers and cars do not share the road. It is all about ‘me me me’, losing weight, and fittin’ into that speedo.

Who knew the Hamptons attracted so many weekend warriors who take to the streets! The sheer number of fitness enthusiasts are staggering! So many Hamptons peeps are passionate about breaking a sweat. Go figure…

There are the fitness peeps – the runners (not joggers) and the cyclists (not bike riders). The runners and cyclists are athletes – they are on a mission. They are determined to get their mileage logged in for the day. They are on the road early, so as to avoid getting hit by a car. Smart.

The bike riders, who I fondly call ‘idiots on bikes’, and the walkers, are herded together side by side as if they were in a parade. They pretend to be blissfully ignorant of the line-up of Range Rovers, Ferraris and Bentleys trailing behind them.

Just a battle of egos… these are the same peeps who did not share their toys in Kindergarten. I did not like them then, and I don’t like them now.

Bid Adieu

On Tumbleweed Tuesday, we bid a fond adieu to our neighbors. The Hamptons roads are less congested, which is such a relief. However, the skies are filled with helicopters akin to taxis, taking all the summer folks back to the city. And of course the flight pattern is over my house.

Excuse me? Drive back to NYC in all that traffic with the peasants?

See y’all next summer!

Honey, Who Shrunk the Toilet Paper?

So small… (credit: miniadventures)

I am a victim of ‘Shrinkflation’.

According to Investopedia, “…Shrinkflation is the reduction in the size of a product in response to rising production costs or market competition. Rather than increase the price of a product, the company simply offers a smaller package for the same sticker price.”

And by the by, not only is the package smaller, but the price increased.

Gay’s definition of Shrinkflation: Pay more for less. Such a deal! NOT!

Charmin Ultra Soft Toilet Paper Super Mega Roll

About a month ago, I purchased at our local Super Market King Kullen, The Charmin Mega Roll. This was not one roll, but a humongous package of 18 rolls.  Definitely more toilet paper sheets than even I could go through in 3 days.

FYI, I have been buying Charmin for years…LOVE IT! I know, to love toilet paper. What can I say. One of the few pleasures in life.

A few days ago I had to replenish my supply of toilet paper. To be clear, I did not use all the paper, don’t blame me. We had a lot of guests visit, and quite frankly, it is shocking how much toilet paper people go through. And I thought I was bad! What a relief that I am not the sole reason for the destruction of the Amazon forest.

ToiletpaperGate

Let’s set the scene:  I am cruising down the Supermarket toilet paper aisle with my shopping cart, looking for my beloved Charmin Mega Roll. And then, my eyes gazed upon a Charmin Mega Roll package of toilet paper that was sitting on a shelf… I was in heaven! Sadly, to my chagrin, it was noticeably smaller and lighter than what I am accustomed to purchase. Back in the day, like a month ago, I needed a forklift to pick up my usual package of Charmin Mega Roll (kidding).

How dare Charmin do this to their followers! This oughta be a crime! Sadly, this does not even rise to the level of a parking ticket violation.

Who do I call to file a complaint? The head of the Federal Reserve, Jerome Powell? He talks about inflation all the time. I am sure he has first-hand knowledge of this scandal. You can be sure he’s been in the bathroom and reached for a roll of toilet paper…he’s just like us. Was the last person who used his bathroom kind enough to leave a sheet or two dangling from the carboard cylinder? Did they leave no toilet paper, because the rolls are too small?  Did they run out of toilet paper at his house too? Was he pissed off? (no pun intended).

The Ad says: Never Run Out!

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I give you Exhibit ‘A’, a roll of Charmin Ultra Soft Toilet Paper Super Mega Roll. Charmin advertises “…1 Super Mega Roll = 6 Regular Rolls* so you never run out (*based on number of sheets in Charmin Regular Roll bath tissue)”.

Charmin also advertises that their Super Mega Roll is “…2X more absorbent so you can use less and rolls last you longer vs. the leading USA 1-ply bargain brand.”

Fascinating, right? So this means, we can use less toilet paper because Charmin is more absorbent. Tell it to the Judge, which is your derriere. In fact, Charmin states “…Holds up so your hands and behind keep clean while you go”. I promise you; I did not write this advertising spiel.  

I realize this is “TMI”: ‘Too Much Information’ for you all to absorb (no pun intended, thank you Charmin!).

As a matter of fact, Charmin is now hawking a new product called their ‘Forever Roll”. Really? Who do they think they are shiatting? (no pun intended).

I kid you not. Charmin says you can “…Go up to One Month before changing your roll*.” Oy vey Charmin! You are making me pee in my pants just laughing. Hold on, I gotta grab some toilet paper!

Charmin does have a caveat: The Forever Roll goes up to one month, “…BASED on 2 person household that typically uses one roll per month”. Excuse me, but I have no idea where Charmin got that information from. Was this from a survey of Martians on Mars? Do Martians even use a bathroom?

Did Charmin survey a family with children? Have you ever seen kids go through toilet paper? They put me to shame!

As an environmentally conscious pe-er, I do not apply unlimited amounts of toilet paper to my derriere. A roll only last for a few days. Nothing lasts forever…relationships, gift cards and toilet paper.

Dissapearflation

The reality is the toilet paper did not shrink in size; it is disappearing. Before we know it, a Pez Dispenser will be spitting out teeny tiny pellets of toilet paper. Oh Shit!

THE U.S. SUPREME COURT HAS NO REGARD FOR THE LIFE OF A WOMAN

THE U.S. SUPREME COURT HAS NO REGARD FOR THE LIFE OF A WOMAN

http://gaytoday.blog/2022/06/27/the-u-s-supreme-court-has-no-regard-for-the-life-of-a-woman-2/
— Read on gaytoday.blog/2022/06/27/the-u-s-supreme-court-has-no-regard-for-the-life-of-a-woman-2/

THE U.S. SUPREME COURT HAS NO REGARD FOR THE LIFE OF A WOMAN

THE U.S. SUPREME COURT HAS NO REGARD FOR THE LIFE OF A WOMAN

http://gaytoday.blog/2022/06/25/the-u-s-supreme-court-has-no-regard-for-the-life-of-a-woman/
— Read on gaytoday.blog/2022/06/25/the-u-s-supreme-court-has-no-regard-for-the-life-of-a-woman/

#prochoice #womensright #proabortion #equality #roevwade #womenshealth #righttoprivacy #freedomofchoice #abortionright #wordpress #blogger #headlinenews

SPILLAGE AISLE 10!

Louisiana Red Hot Sauce

Dear Ms. Manners,

Last weekend, I shopped for groceries at the King Kullen Supermarket in Bridgehampton, NY.

If you did not know, Bridgehampton is located in the Hamptons. You know, the place where the beautiful, rich and famous peeps frolic.

Well, I go grocery shopping every single goddamn day. Sadly, I do not have a Chef, a Butler, a Personal Assistant, a Personal Trainer, etc. . I know Ms. Manners. Can you imagine? And I live in the Hamptons in the summer. Totally embarrassing.

My shopping experience was different this time. I came upon a major spillage in Aisle 10.

It was a total ‘hit and run.’ A real crime scene. ‘Someone’ knocked over several  Louisiana Red Hot Sauce Bottles. If y’all don’t know, this is one of the ingredients used to make spicy hot chicken wings.

And this really looked like a crime scene. The employees had the aisle roped off with yellow tape, the kind that the Police use. And this was a problem for me, I needed to go down that aisle. I had to get the Grey Poupon Mustard, which was stocked next to the Hot Sauce.

When I arrived at the crime scene, there was not one, not two, not three, not even four broken bottles on the floor… For the untrained eye, it was hard to tell how many bottles were broken. The floor was ‘a sea’ in Red Hot Sauce; broken and unbroken bottles were literally floating in the aisle. This was a job well done!

Ms. Manners, I know you are  wonderin,’ whether the person who crashed into the Red Hot Sauce bottles, which were neatly displayed on a shelf, reported this incident to a grocery store employee?”

I know, such a funny question to ponder.

Oh my oh my Ms. Manners! Girlfriend, this here is the Hamptons. Paleeze!

Hell no! Clearly the perpetrator (“perp”) of this incident scurried away…

Perhaps we should give the perp the benefit of the doubt? Maybe, just maybe, the perp did not know they ‘bumped into the Red Hot Sauce Bottles’ that were so neatly organized on a shelf by a grocery store employee? I just don’t know.

Personally, I try to believe in the ‘goodness of people,’ perhaps, just perhaps, the person did not hear the bottles (note ‘plural’ bottles), crash to the ground.

Ms. Manners, I use the word ‘crashed,’ because there was more than one bottle, and these were large bottles. Not the small table size bottles you would use at a restaurant. Again, you ask yourself “Didn’t the perp hear the bottles crash?

Well, Ms. Manners, all I can say, is that if the perp were profoundly deaf, daft, or did not have their hearing aids in, maybe, just maybe they did not hear the crash of all those bottles. Not to mention the splatter of the sauce, which was everywhere.

But really, we all know the perp who knocked all those bottles down, knew what they did. The perp probably checked the aisle to see if there were any witnesses, and then fled the scene of the crime. Like no one would see this mess? Really? Like the store has no video cameras?

Oh, but then things took a turn for the worse. Then there was the smell. Ms. Manners, Louisiana Red Hot Sauce is hot. The label says, ‘Red Hot Sauce’ for a reason. This hot sauce ain’t for the faint at heart.

Have you ever used Louisiana Red Hot Sauce Ms. Manners? Well, I love it. ‘Specially on my chicken wings.’ Oooooh that smell!

Ms. Manners, I could smell that sauce when I was about mile away near  Aisle 1. That smell was permeating the store. Even though it was 9:30am, I started to have a hankerin’ for some wings!

A Laughing Matter

In truth, employees and customers were laughing. Customers were taking photos; with the hope these pictures would go ‘viral.’ Nah, I don’t think so.

I could see the store employees were in absolutely no rush to clean this mess up. Who in their right mind would be? If you get Red Hot Sauce in an open wound on your fingers or hands, you will cry for your mama! And do not rub your fingers that are covered in hot sauce into your eyes, it can damn near burn them out of your head!

As for me, I told the employees we should all follow the trail of red footprints throughout the store, created by the person who had knocked over the bottles of Louisiana Red Hot Sauce. Just look for the perp whose shoes and legs were decorated with red splatter stains and would smell like a chicken wing.

Oh, and if you were wonderin,’ I prefer wings in extra hot sauce.

TAG! COVID GOT ME!

The COVID Grim Reaper

Oy vey! After 2.5 years of evading COVID, it got me.

Crime Scene

How did I get COVID? Who gave it to me? Who can I blame? Do I call the Police to track down a suspect?

I have not knowingly been near anyone who has COVID. Unless …someone has been lurking the streets with COVID. Hmmmm.

COVID was an uninvited guest who entered my life without permission. Yesterday morning, was like any morning. I noticed my throat was a tad bit scratchy. I do have allergies, so I popped a Zyrtec (allergy pill). Then I noticed my nose ‘felt funny’ (no better way to describe), and since COVID is literally everywhere, I took a COVID test for the hell of it.

COVID Tests

I just love a COVID test. Don’t y’all? Just the thought of shoving a long Q-tip up not one, but both of my nostrils, is so incredibly sexy. Then waiting for the results… this is akin to a pregnancy test. I mean the dipstick test. But you still wonder if you are positive or negative.

I have previously taken rapid COVID tests, PCR tests, and each and every one came up negative.

But not yesterday. Oh no, no, no. My luck ran out, and COVID tagged me. My COVID stick had two red lines, and no, I was not pregnant.

I just don’t get it. I am armed with 4 COVID shots, take a ton of supplements to boost my immune system, eat healthy and wear a mask inside all stores. Oh, and I also take hydroxychloroquine twice daily for an autoimmune illness. No, not to prevent COVID, to prevent swelling in my fingers. And… my positive COVID test proves hydroxychloroquine does not prevent COVID.

Despite taking all the above precautions, I still got COVID. Maybe if my arsenal included an AR-15, then COVID would have stayed away? Nah, I don’t think so.

COVID Friends

Well, my friend Michele had COVID and tested positive for 21 days. She got COVID from her granddaughter. So cute, right? The kid shared her COVID with the entire family a month ago. Today is the day Michele finally tested negative. Her husband never got COVID. She even slept in another bedroom to not infect him. Wow, what a mama. I have spoken to her so often the last few days, maybe COVID is transmittable via text and phone? I just don’t know.

My friends Andy and Mike recently got COVID. They are getting better. But I did not get it from them. They got COVID from a birthday party. What a fun party!

So where did I get COVID from? Who knows? Such a pity. I wanted to blame someone.

COVID Health Status

Today is day two of my COVID experience. I now have a cold and I am a bit tired. Although, I did workout this morning, picked 5 pounds of strawberries, and baked bread. I have to prove I am Wonder Woman, and COVID will not stop me.

Leper in the House

Stay away from Gay! No one wants to touch me. So sad.

Good thing it is almost summer. I sit outside, cough and gag away from everyone in my family. In the house, I wear a KN95 mask, and sleep in my son’s bedroom. He is a practicing adult, and lives in California, so I can use his bedroom.

My drugs of choice are Advil, Mucinex and AYR nasal spray. I am holding off on taking the Paxlovid, the COVID antiviral drug, because I don’t know if I need it just yet. Only time shall tell!

What is fascinating, is that I do not have brain fog, and can author this article. I have brain fog every day, except today. Go figure.

COVID Response from Friends and Family

It is just fascinating. When you tell people you have COVID, the response is very sullen. No, I have not heard the line “sending you prayers,” but the “Oh NO! You got COVID”! response. And “Where did you get it from?.” “Are you ok?”

I am taking each day as it comes. Glad I have four COVID shots, and hope I have a mild case of COVID. One never knows with this virus.

To be continued…

Working 9–5 is a Drag!

The Virtual Office

Like omg! I was watching the news the other day. No, this was not ‘the news,’ like CNN, MSNBC or that ‘other’ station that rhymes with ‘lox.’

This news segment was about people, specifically ‘Twenty-Somethings’ who were returning to work in a Post-COVID World.

Indeed, everyone has to go back to work in a ‘Real’ office. No, you can’t continue to work out of your ‘home virtual office,’ which is in your bedroom. To clarify, the ‘real office’ is located in an office building where grown-ups go to work 5 days a week. Real life. The pre-COVID era. Ah, the good ole’ days.

Apparently, not everyone is happy about returning to the real office. So sad.

Well. Excuse me. Sad is not the appropriate word that expresses the ‘twenty-somethings’ that were interviewed on this show. These women emphatically did not, not, want to go back to work in the ‘real’ office.

I mean really. After listening to their compelling stories, like duh, who could blame these educated, professional women for wanting to work ‘virtually’ from home.

The first woman who was interviewed, quit her job as a paralegal because in the post-pandemic real world, she was required to go back to work in the real office. My word! You go girl!

She stated ‘…when you go from full remote to office, it was like, why am I doing this? It seems like pointless? I was so much more tired, I would come home exhausted, and you know, I wouldn’t want to go to the gym, and wouldn’t want to read a book, like I wouldn’t really want to make dinner. 5 days a week in office, 9–5, which is just unreasonable.’

I hear ya sistah! Oy, too much stress, and being tired is just a total no-no. Clearly, working from 9–5 as a paralegal at the real office, located in the office building prior to the pandemic must have been a heavy burden.

Can you imagine, going to work every day, day in, day out? Tsk, tsk, too much to bear for a twenty-something.

Fortunately, this is a woman of the 21st century who knows how to take care of herself.

The good news is that she found another virtual paralegal job. Yes, she gets to continue to work at home! I am thrilled for her! It is wonderful that she will not be subjected to the demands of working in a real office. Best of all, she will now have the strength to go to the gym, read a book, and cook a meal. Although why cook a meal, when Postmates can deliver dinner in half the time it takes to cook. This of course frees up more time, so you can go out with your friends for cocktails. Which you can do since you will not be tired anymore. Just another perk working from home.

Another person who was interviewed, a 25 year old woman, echoed similar sentiments. She stated, ‘we are more productive at home, we are happier at home, we’re doing what the company asks of us…and going back in is really a form of micromanaging, We don’t want any part of it.’

Wait a gosh darn minute! I have a few questions with regard to this second woman who was interviewed. She used the word ‘home’ several times and said she was ‘happy.’ Was she living at home with mommy and daddy during the pandemic? Was she more productive at home because mommy gave her three meals a day and did her laundry? Is home better to work at because you can sneak in a work-out when you are working virtually? Or binge on a Netflix show? Just wonderin.’

One more thing…this twenty-something essentially said she doesn’t want to be micromanaged at work. Is that right? Stop the presses for a moment and get me off this merry-go-round.

As an adult, in the real world, everyone’s life is micromanaged by someone. I know, there was no college course on this subject. Sad.

Such grievances! These twenty-somethings remind me of my kids when they were teenagers and would yell at me “you are not the boss of me.” Not to be the bearer of bad news, but in a professional work environment, someone is the boss of you. Sad reality check.

Clearly, these twenty-somethings set forth compelling arguments to continue to work virtually from home. Right? Oy vey. Tell it to the Judge Judy.

I mean really…what kind of people are we to require educated professionals to work at oppressive office jobs, which make you so tired at the end of a day, that you can’t even go to the gym. The nerve of employers!

Can you imagine being a twenty-something college graduate and subjected to working at a real job, in a real office, from 9–5? Like what was the point of going to college anyway? Again, college did not prepare students for real life.

When these women were interviewed for this show, their parents must have been so proud of them!

I have kids who are in their twenties. If my kids told me this tale of woe, I would have laughed at them and rubbed two fingers together to show that I was playing the smallest violin in the world, playing the saddest, saddest songs.

I don’t know about y’all, but back in the day, I worked as an attorney. I had to get up very early in the morning, wear a suit, uncomfortable high heels, and get to the office or courthouse.

Oh, and by the by, my ‘work hours’ were not 9 am to 5 pm… that would be like going to Day Camp. My hours were leave the house by 6 am and get home late at night. And then, work some more at home. Everyone micromanaged me and was up my arse. And I never got a ‘thank you.’

Just wait till you have kids of your own… that 9–5 job will be remembered as a vacation!

To be continued…

Writing College Essays is NOT Rocket Science!

An Applicant Does Not Have to Be a Rocket Scientist!

Today is December 30, 2020, and there are just a few more days left to finalize college applications. How exciting!

As we live and breathe, students are staring at 15–20 college applications, and confronted with the daunting task of writing 2–3 required college essays per application. This adds up to a total of 60 essays.

CALM DOWN and BREATHE! You do not have to be a genius to write the college essay. #TRUE

Colleges Pose Similar Essay Prompts

Let’s face it kids, we are not reinventing the wheel with college essay prompts. At the end of the day, the wording of the essay questions may vary from college to college, however, the same question is being asked. #TRUE

Since we will not be reinventing the wheel, if an applicant applies to 20 colleges, 60 different essays need not be written. They just need to be ‘tweaked’ to conform to a specific college essay prompt.

Essay Prompt Examples from Duke University and Princeton University

Below are required essay prompts from both Duke and Princeton Admissions. Even though worded slightly differently, the essay prompts pose the same question to the applicant.

Duke University Undergraduate Admissions poses the following required essay prompt for all 2020–21 applicants: essay prompt: Please share with us why you consider Duke a good match for you. Is there something in particular about Duke’s academic or other offerings that attract you? (200 words maximum).

Princeton University Undergraduate Admissions poses the following required essays prompts for A.B. Degree Applicants or Those Who are Undecided: As a research institution that also prides itself on its liberal arts curriculum, Princeton allows students to explore areas across the humanities and the arts, the natural sciences, and the social sciences. What academic areas most pique your curiosity, and how do the programs offered at Princeton suit your particular interests? (Please respond in about 250 words.) Princeton poses the following required essay prompt for B.S.E. (‘Bachelor Science Engineering) Degree Applicants: Please describe why you are interested in studying engineering at Princeton. Include any of your experiences in, or exposure to engineering, and how you think the programs offered at the University suit your particular interests. (Please respond in about 250 words.)

The general essay response would be the same to both colleges. However, each essay response would be tailored to the specific college academic program, courses, and campus community.

The Dean of Undergraduate Admissions is Your Audience

College essays are written for an audience of one person, the Dean of Undergraduate Admissions.

The Essays are the vehicle to show your love for the college and is the student’s personal letter, albeit self-portrait to the Dean. In a meaningful, direct manner, an applicant must communicate to the Dean throughout the required and supplemental essays who they are as a person. The student must describe how participation in extraordinary activities created a unique person who overcame challenges to pursue innovative concepts and ideas that impacted their community and beyond.

The Essay is how an applicant shouts aloud to the Dean to #PICKME #COLLEGEACCEPTANCE!

College Essay Advisors

I always recommend high school students work with a college essay advisor. You do not have to be a genius to write a college essay, however, you need to know ‘how’ to write the essay. There is a certain way of writing the essays, to pique the attention of the Dean. The Advisor does not write the essay for the student but can provide priceless guidance as to how the essay should read to garner the attention of the Dean.

According to Lauren Chattman, an accomplished author, columnist, and college essay advisor, ‘essays are where the student is permitted to boast about themselves and their legitimate accomplishments to effectively increase their chances of admission to top institutions’. Chattman further states that “the key to successful college essays is where the student utilizes a specific writing style to sincerely convey in their own words why they are unique and how they would contribute to the Dean’s College Community.’

#WISEWORDS: Read the prompts and provide a response in your own words.

Even though New Year’s Eve is tomorrow, where are you going? We are still fighting COVID, so this is the time to focus on finalizing college applications. Check each college application deadline!!

For additional insight on the college admissions process, please check out my book on Amazon!

MAUI HIBACHI, COVID STYLE

MAUI HIBACHI, COVID STYLE!

The Hibachi restaurant in Lahaina, Maui is dining at its finest! Home of “Mo’ Butter Mo’ Better.” 

Shhh… it is the secret ingredient.

Stranger Danger

When you dine at a Hibachi restaurant, the host smushes you into a table that seats upwards of twelve people. Did I mention this is indoor dining only?

Back in the day before COVID, you would always have to share a hibachi table with peeps called strangers.

I barely remember those pre-COVID days, but if my mind serves me correctly, we would just sit down, and simply ‘grin and bear it.’

In those days, my greatest fear was the stranger who sat next to me who was either too loud, too drunk, elbowed me too much, spat food when they spoke, had not so subtle fahrt slippage, or all of the above. 

Kinda kills the ambiance of fine dining. Don’t ya think?

At a minimum, if I knew the person sitting next to me, I could make a big stink and complain. 

By the way, I wonder…can you get COVID through a fahrt?

On second thought, perhaps this was not the best dining choice during COVID.

Whatever. The salted butter sprinkled with salt and a side of grilled shrimp is to die for girlfriends!

Love Thy Table-Neighbor

I know, you are thinking, ‘she is such a biatch!’ Excuse me sistah! Oh my, what short memories you have. Perhaps even worse than mine!

There is COVID in Hawaii. And even though there may not be COVID in Florida, Arizona or Texas, I do not need to be literally sittin’ on top of a stranger. Then again, if my table neighbor is gorgeous and super-hot…there is always an exception to every rule! Shhhh. don’t tell my husband.

COVID Dining

The big question of the evening: Would we be lucky and get a table alone, or would we have to dine with strangers? 

No more guessin’! We were escorted to the table, which was empty. Hallelujah! Alone at last! 

And then… came the other family.

Oy. A million meshuga (Yiddish for crazy) thoughts were racing through my rather unstable mind. This family could be from Mars for all I knew. Actually, I could deal with a family from Mars. Mars instituted mandatory COVID vaccinations.

A family from Mississippi Arizona, South Dakota, not sure. Red States, conspiracy theories, vax chips implanted in your body…yada yada yada.

But really. Humor me. Just imagine, we actually had to share a table with strangers! We have never, ever done that during COVID! Shiat!

My word! What was a girl to do? Where could I run? The good news was that the restaurant stuck us with only one family.

Phew, what a relief. I suppose due to COVID, we did not get a third family literally thrown in our laps!

As it was, we were literally sitting on top of each other. No joke. However, I had to laugh because I believed the air I was breathing was laden with COVID spikes, and they were infiltrating every orifice of my body.

Rather than totally lose my mind, I needed to put my thinkin’ cap on. What would my Spiritual Advisor Dr. Fauci tell me to do?

Like duh! He would have told me not eat indoors at a restaurant. Hmmm. He sounds like my ‘ole big mama! 

If he only knew the COVID mess I got myself into. Where was the social distancing? Where was my mask?

And then, I did what any COVID paranoid lunatic would do: I moved my chair and table setting to the very end of the table. My plate was hanging off the table. A useless effort to maintain a teeny-tiny bit of air space between myself and the stranger next door.

Rest assured it would have been easier to just sit away from the table facing the corner.

I was plotzing. FYI, Yiddish word for ‘collapsing or fainting.’ The translation: Sistahs, I thought I was gonna die! It was over; yep, right there in the hibachi restaurant. Sayonara folks.

Why the worry? First of all, no one wore a mask at the table. Why should we? We had to show our I.D. and vaccine card.

But wait. This is COVID. Where is this family from? Mississippi? Did they really get vaccinated? Was their VAX Card legal? How can I find out this information?

Vetting Process

You know it sistahs! I looked over this family with a keen eye. Oh please. I was in stealth mode. I was not blatant. You know me… I am the most subtle person ever! Just like a bull in a China shop! But I had to be careful. If they were from Texas, were they packin’ a pistol? I just did not know.

The Chef

At a Hibachi restaurant, it is the luck of the draw who is your Chef.

And we scored big.

The Chef, who happens to be a part-time comedian and part-time knife magician, finally came on stage to his grill.

He brought the hibachi ingredients: about five pounds of salted butter and three pounds of salt. Grilled salted butter with a dash of shrimp, steak, chicken, and vegetables was the cuisine for the evening.

Knives Out

The Chef entertained us with a show of flippin’ and spinnin’ sharp knives. One false move, and adios to your table neighbor. At least that would have created more space at the table.

Mo’ Butter is Mo’ Better!

What can I say, I love hibachi! I love grilled butter sautéed with salt, and a hint of shrimp, steak, lobster or chicken. I loved grilled butter with a side of garlic and a hint of fried rice.

The dinner was great, as always. I suppose due to COVID, the Chef did not throw shrimp at us to catch with our mouths. Too bad. I loved watching someone get shrimp thrown in their eye!

Oh well, maybe next year.

Smelly Feet? Schweatty Balls? A Maui Vacation!

Paradise in Maui!

Smelly Feet? Schweatty Balls?

Maui is a natural oasis. Beautiful flowers. Spectacular waterfalls. Breathtaking sunsets.

Total Zen.

Our arrival to Maui was flawless. Airplane was right on time. Rental car was brand new. Drive to Hotel was fast. Arrived several hours early to hotel check-in, and the room was ready. Incredible.

Oh, and that room! High floor, sweeping ocean views, more square footage than a NYC apartment!

Late lunch was delicious. Pool side was heaven.

What more could a girl ask for? Oy. As the mamas say at the Mahjong table, don’t ask.

The Smell!

Somethin’ was rotten in Maui… at least in the master bedroom of this magnificent condo.

I noticed a ‘smell’ wafting from the master bedroom. Definitely not Chanel No. 5.

At first, we could not place that smell. Oh, and by the by, yes, I have a terrible stomach. However, I can assure you I was not the culprit of that odor!

Smelly Feet?

In truth, we just unpacked from a long flight, and at first sniff, the odor had a hint of ‘smelly feet.’ I literally was smelling ‘gently worn’ socks. Not long snorts, just a quick sniff.

You know it sistahs, just what you want to do upon your arrival in Maui.

Well, no one had smelly feet or socks or shoes. What a relief. Right?

I poo-pooed the smell (no pun intended). Thought we just needed to open the sliding glass doors to let in fresh air.

Several hours transpired, and a reasonable person would have believed the master bedroom was successfully ‘aired out.’

Cold Shower

Well…oh my gawd girlfriends. Don’t get me started! Then again, y’all know me.

I am not one to complain, but it would have been nice to have a hot shower. Not too much to ask for. Like, hello, this mama does not prefer, but wants, a hot shower.

Do you kinda get the feelin’ this hotel condo was all downhill from this point?

After I took my cold shower, I went into the bedroom to dress for dinner. And I was overwhelmed with a sickening odor. Damn! What was that smell?!

Clearly, airing out the room did not work.

Odor Patrol

I simply could not define that odor! What was it? Really smelled like sweaty feet; but was not. Oh, I know! Schweatty balls! That’s it! The room smelled like a locker room! Ah ha!

And so began the calls to the Front Desk, Housekeeping, and…the Hotel Manager.

The Front Desk

And the call went like this: ‘Hello, I have two issues. First, no hot water in my shower.’ The front desk person, politely apologized, and said ‘there is a problem with the hot water heaters. All of them.’

Well then, okey dokey. The solution: Grin and bear it. But really, she gave a little ‘chuckle,’ said ‘they were being fixed, and hoped to be repaired by the next day.’

Then I said, ‘My second issue is that my bedroom smells like smelly feet and schweatty balls; it really does.’

And the reply? Silence at first. Sistahs, think for a moment…how does a hotel employee respond to this select choice of words that I used to characterize this problem?

Surely, the front desk person thought I was out-of-my-mind.

Pardon Moi. Girlfriends, am I asking too much? A mama is entitled to a hot shower, and a room free from eau de parfum schweatty balls.

Oy vey. Clearly, that conversation was goin’ nowhere. I requested to speak to the Hotel Manager.

Hold your hats, we be goin’ for a ride!

The Hotel Manager

Poor guy. He never had a chance. I had him at ‘hello.’

Ask yourself: Was he blindsided by my call? Probably.

Did this Manager believe my accusation that the room smelled like schweatty balls? I don’t know. Although, he did laugh and remember the SNL skit! He said he would examine the matter. Not the balls, the odor.

Face to Face Meeting

As a skilled attorney, I prefer to discuss topics such as schweatty balls face to face. Once again, no pun intended.

I schlepped my skinny arse to the front desk, and asked to speak to my new friend, Manager Number 1. Oh, there will be another Manager that got pulled into this drama.

The housekeeping inspection confirmed the room smelled. What a relief! See… I told the truth!

But where was the smell coming from? The carpet? The armoire? The bed? The Manager winced at the bed option, which I agree is kinda gross.

Now it is Manager Number One’s turn to tell the truth. Or at least to start revealing some truthful details. Apparently, the condo sustained ‘some water damage’ from the Epic Storm that slammed Maui a few days prior to our arrival. The wall-to-wall carpeting in the Master Bedroom ‘got a little wet.’

The Remedy

The Manager deemed it best to clean the rug to get rid of the schweatty balls odor. Ok, maybe that will work. I am ‘up’ for that.

Masking the Problem

The rug was cleaned with a ‘cleaner/deodorizer/schweatty balls remover’ when we were at dinner.

Talk about making a bad situation worse.

The moldy carpeting was now doused with chemicals. And again, not smellin’ like a bouquet of roses. I wanted to go to bed with not a COVID mask, but with a gas mask.

Room Change

Here we go. Manager Number One is not working the next day. Meet Manager Number Two. He had a great idea…change your room.

Sistahs, this hot mama is on a very high floor. The only room available is on the third floor.

The nerve! I shan’t stay on a low floor.

Finally The Truth!

Once again, I schlepped to the front desk to talk to Manager Number Two.

Poor guy. My sharp cross-examination skills had him confess to the real issue. When the epic storm hit Maui, the room we were assigned at check-in, was not secured for the storm. At that time, the room was vacant, and the sliding glass doors were not locked. The master bedroom was soaked from the storm.

Last Ditch Effort

Other than ripping out the carpet, Manager Two worked with Hotel Engineers to dry out the rug and eradicate the odor.

Huzzah!

Mission accomplished! Finally, I can breathe. Not perfect, but no mo’ schweatty balls and smelly feet!

The Concierge

Bless the Concierge. They keep leaving me messages. They want to welcome me back to the hotel and to stop by their desk to pick up their complimentary beach bag.