April 23, 2008
W sucks
No. Not that W. I’ll save that rant for another post.
This one is targeted at The W hotels in general and the Atlanta-Perimeter W in particular.
The W annoys the crap out of me, from the Eurotrash music that throbs in the elevators to the dark hallways to the copies of Wired magazine in the rooms. They’re just trying too damned hard to be hip. And generally, if you have to try that hard, you ain’t. Though I realize the real issue here could be that I’m a decidedly middle-aged guy who’s in bed by 10 every night and more interested in the quality of the fitness center than the hipster cocktails at the bar. But I’d sooner think it’s The W’s problem, not mine. It’s easier that way …
As for the W Atlanta-Perimeter, we decided it’s merely a V after staying there for several nights this week. The offenses were small and great, ranging from a hyperhip coffee bar that shutters at 11 a.m. to a fitness center that totally sucks despite its hipster name, “Sweat.”
The V appears to be a failed attempt to transform a stereotypical suburban Atlanta hotel into something special. They got halfway there.
The ultimate strange event was when one of my cohorts returned to his room late one night to find all his stuff was gone. Well, it wasn’t gone. His cloths were wadded up in a bag and his computers were over in a back corner. Apparently, a computer problem led the staff to believe he’d abandoned all this and they were gathering it up. Not sure what they would have done with it from there, and it was only after being insistent that he convinced the hotel it needed to iron the clothes they’d wadded up in the bag so he could wear them the next day.
On the bright side, the V delivered pretty well for the meeting we were holding. The food service was good and they did a solid job of planning it. Few things are more nightmarish than having the hotel facilities crumble before your eyes while 50+ meeting attendees are sitting there waiting to get started.
Posted by Bob Benz at 11:23 AM | Comments (2)
April 20, 2008
An ode to Otis ...
Condolences to Howard Owens, who lost a friend this weekend. Howard had to put down his rottweiler, Otis, after he discovered the dog had bone cancer. I've had to say goodbye to a lot of dogs over the years, and it's always difficult. Hang in their, Howard, and remember the good times ...
Posted by Bob Benz at 9:14 AM | Comments (1)
April 14, 2008
Bootleg Butthole Surfers ...
I was wondering if Butthole Surfers classics like "Hairway to Steven" and "Locust Abortion Technician" were available somewhere on the Internet. I'd lost my copies long ago when I abandoned my cassette deck. So I started Googling around and quickly found the official site of Gibby and the boys. It has the perfect proportions of creepy, bizarre and off-the-wall to reflect the Butthole Surfers experience. And even better, it has free MP3s of several classic bootlegs.
I highly recommend the bone-crunchingly psychedelic Double Live, recorded sometime around 1988. And while you're at it, download a copy of the bootleg Tejass for a taste of their mid-'90s incarnation.
Boy howdy. They don't make music like that no more ...
Posted by Bob Benz at 10:51 AM | Comments (1)
April 13, 2008
Spring scene
The other morning as I was dealing with the dogs and feeding the angry, vindictive cockatoo, I noticed the cove was blazing in a spring sunrise. So I grabbed my camera and blasted off a few HDR shots to see what I'd come up with. This is a view of the stairs leading down to the dock. In a few more weeks, you'll barely be able to see the water.
I've been doing a little fishing off the dock, catching mostly small bluegills, one tiny bass (smallmouth, I think) and a catfish. Xena was particularly interested in the catfish.
I can't wait for it to get warm enough to swim in the cove. We've bought a boat to put in the dock. Just need a lift now. The water is up, but apparently winter is going to slap us upside the head one more time this week ...
Posted by Bob Benz at 9:19 AM | Comments (0)
April 12, 2008
The Ninja Dognapper
During a recent business trip to Atlanta, I met the Ninja Dognapper. She's a gorgeous blonde who can't stand to see a dog in distress. It bothers her so much, in fact, that she goes out in the dark of night, dressed in black and armed with hotdogs, to liberate canines who are living lonely lives at the end of chains.
As we were driving around Atlanta in her dogmobile (complete with a dashboard that has been chewed by one of her grateful pooches), she detailed how she can't resist the temptation to sneak into some half-wit's yard to liberate a dog who is being abused or neglected.
I asked her if she was afraid of getting shot by some pissed off weasel, and she didn't even flinch. The dog's welfare is just too important to pause at such peril. She's not even worried the dog might turn on her. Enough hot dogs will appease even the most savage of beasts.
I left Atlanta with a newfound faith in humanity and wishing I had the balls and bravery to do the same, especially after reading the plight of the forlorn St. Bernard that some piece of shit redneck had on a chain in Tennessee. The poor thing got tangled in its chain and chewed its own leg off to escape. Thank god the Ninja Dognapper is out there, moving stealthily through the night, saving Man's best friend from Man.
Posted by Bob Benz at 8:13 PM | Comments (4)
April 8, 2008
Looking for an angry fix ...
OK. Now I know I have an addiction.
I've often heard the Blackberry referred to as a "Crackberry," to the point where it got a little old. Then my Blackberry died a horrible, unfortunate death. And I came to realize what an utter, hopeless junky I've become.
I was on the porch last night trying to kill a wasp that had wandered in. I took a mighty swing ... and missed, leaving a pissed off wasp streaming toward me. My survival instinct kicked in and I started hopping around, trying to get out of the way.
That's when my Blackberry popped out of my breast pocket, flopped through the air and crashed onto the wood decking.
I picked it up, praying it would still work. And it did. Or so I though. But it wasn't able to find the network. I was cut off. No e-mail. No calls. Just a constant, nagging "Searching for CDMA" note on the phone.
I knew I had to go to Atlanta the next day, and the thought of being out in the world without the cool comfort of my Blackberry really rattled me. I started to twitch. I called Verizon and begged them to show mercy on me. Their advice was to take it to the nearest Verizon store and see if it could be resurrected.
So this morning that's what I did. But by that point, I was sweating profusely and I kept looking at the Blackberry's screen in the hope of seeing some sign of life ... a new message, a Facebook alert, a Gmail notice. Nothing.
The Verizon folks were great. I think it was refreshing that I actually admitted the Blackberry's demise was my own doing. Or maybe they saw what a mess I was and realized it would be better to feed my jones than deal with the consequences. They offered to replace it for 50 bucks, which I eagerly agreed to. Phone service restored, I sped home to re-establish my Blackberry's intimate relation with the Maroon Ventures Exchange Server. Mission accomplished. And in crisis, as is often the case, I came to self-awareness. I'm an addict. And maybe the stupid Crackberry joke isn't so stupid after all. Just make sure I have my fix and there won't be any trouble ...
Posted by Bob Benz at 4:28 PM | Comments (3)
April 4, 2008
Miracles on the border
During my trip to Austin last week, I managed to find time to hit a few art galleries. The Mexic-Arte Museum on Congress is featuring an exhibit called The Huge and the Small, where several pieces caught my eye. The exhibit mixes large and small works, including Gustavo Monroy's "Totem," a large five-pieces work that appears to be a meditation on the Garden of Eden myth
On the small side of the equation, I flashed back to some of the tiny Dutch paintings I saw in the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam. Xavier Esqueda's "La Fertilidad Incipiente" was excellent and I really liked an ipod piece by Jose Antonio Hernandez Vargas. It was called "A Negra," and featured a swirl of flies buzzing around the screen of a video ipod forming the letter A. It was the music playing in the background that first drew me to it. Never figured out what it was, though. Haunting. Or maybe hypnotic is a better description.
And then I drifted into an exhibit called "Retablos: Miracles on the Border." Great stuff. The retablos are done on wood or metal by people who want to thank a saint for a miracle. The retablos range from the poignant to the rough-hewn. My favorite told the story of a man who petitioned St. Michael the Archangel so the documents for his pickup truck would come through. The retablo, on metal with spots of rust showing through, thanks the saint for interceding and ensuring the paperwork was delivered. Behind the steering wheel of a pickup truck sits the petitioner, a pleased smile on his face.
There were numerous retablos of this sort. It was amazing to drift through them and read these people's tales of personal miracles, many of which were tied to immigration to the U.S. from Mexico.
The museum itself is strange in a good way. It's small, almost claustrophobic, with low ceilings that often forced me to duck lights when I was standing in front of the retablos. It has a very cool gift shop that managed to liberate a few dollars from me. Definitely worth checking out if you happen to drift through Austin ...
Posted by Bob Benz at 5:38 PM | Comments (0)
10 reasons your travel blog sucks ...
From Gridskipper comes this amusing top 10 list. I'm afraid I'm guilty as charged on several of these counts ...
Posted by Bob Benz at 5:35 PM | Comments (0)
April 1, 2008
Just when I thought I'd seen everything ...
Via BoingBoing, here's one of the most bizarre things I've seen in a while: A Finnish new wave band and the Red Army Chorus belt out a pretty bodacious version of "Sweet Home Alabama." Go comrade, go.
Posted by Bob Benz at 10:58 AM | Comments (1)