Linda Gray Performs in "Bette Davis Speaks"

Last night I went to the opening performance of "Bette Davis Speaks", starring actress Linda Gray. Based on the book of the same name by author Boze Hadleigh, it is the account of his interview with the legendary actress of stage and screen. The stage production of "Speaks" presents the exact words of Ms Davis; providing the audience with an insider view of Ms Davis' thoughts and feelings on her lengthy career. The  set featured three actors seated on stage, reading manuscripts. The audience is immediately drawn into the script, often hilarious and always reflecting the sharp wit of Ms Davis. It's no wonder she is still regarded as one of the most iconic movie stars in motion picture and stage history. 

Linda Gray performs admirably as Bette Davis, drawing on her own encounter with Ms Davis over cocktails and dinner many years ago. This production actually showcases two actresses who each read lines from Ms Davis, and another who reads the role as the author. While enjoyable, this switching back and forth was somewhat distracting at times. I would have preferred to see a single spotlight on Ms Gray, against a dark stage with just her own reading. Regardless, the subject matter was rich in witticisms and wonderfully raucous stories from old Hollywood. Her unfiltered thoughts and recollections of scores of names through Hollywood history; from Tallulah Bankhead, Clark Gable, Joan Crawford, Lana Turner, to Marilyn Monroe are nothing short of titillating at times. Mr Hadleigh captures the essence of Bette Davis and recounts numerous stories that will delight any fan of Ms Davis.

A review I read describes the show as follows: "From her famous feud with Joan Crawford to her delightfully wicked comments on her contemporaries, "Bette Davis Speaks" is sure to be one of the most delightful evenings you will spend in the theater this year".

The show runs through March 20th, 2011 at the Indian Wells Theater in Palm Desert California. Located within the California State University San Bernadino, this Palm Desert campus boasts an impressive theater, ideal for this presentation. It's a marvelous example of arts thriving in our desert community. I was delighted to see my friend Ms Linda Gray appear in this role, she seemed to relish the opportunity to bring Bette Davis to life once again.

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A Bit of Wednesday Humor: 'The Haircut'

My brother sent this to me yesterday, I thought it was worth sharing.

One day a florist went to a barber for a haircut. After the cut, he asked about his bill, and the barber replied, 'I cannot accept money from you, I'm doing community service this week.' The florist was pleased and left the shop. When the barber went to open his shop the next morning, there was a
'thank you' card and a dozen roses waiting for him at his door.

Later, a cop comes in for a haircut, and when he tries to pay his bill, the barber again replied, 'I cannot accept money from you , I'm doing community service this week.' The cop was happy and left the shop. The next morning when the barber went to open up, there was a 'thank you' card and a dozen donuts waiting for him at his door.

Then a Congressman came in for a haircut, and when he went to pay his bill, the barber again replied, 'I can not accept money from you. I'm doing community service this week.' The Congressman was very happy and left the shop. The next morning, when the barber went to open up, there were a dozen Congressmen lined up waiting for a free haircut.

And that, my friends, illustrates the fundamental difference between the citizens of our country and the politicians who run it.

BOTH POLITICIANS AND DIAPERS NEED TO BE CHANGED OFTEN AND FOR THE SAME REASON!

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LSS: One of those little annoyances

Have you ever suffered from LSS? LSS is the term that refers to Lazy Sock Syndrome. Symptoms are typically when a sock looses its elasticity and slides down one's ankle. Despite multiple efforts to return the sock to its intended position, it gradually slides back down. This is what is known as Lazy Sock Syndrome. It can be quite annoying and a modest inconvenience. Its one of those things that you notice all day, leaving a nagging sense and causing feelings of sloppiness, and being unkempt. There is no easy cure for Lazy Sock Syndrome- it would require an old fashioned treatment of darning socks, replacing the elastic, quite an intricate procedure. Ironically not a treatment embraced by modern society. Often we simply discard the socks or donate to a local shelter. Fortunately LSS is easily diagnosed. Socks will appear wider at the top, with a "stretched out" appearance. Upon close inspection one can detect that the sock(s) will have LSS. This morning I ignored the warning signs of LSS, in favor of a pair of socks that I've been attached to for some time. I put them on in a rush, and dashed out the door. Before I could put my foot on the gas pedal I knew it was going to be an LSS day. I picked the socks and I put my foot right in it, so to speak. It may be time to purge the sock drawer. Or perhaps channel Betsy Ross and have a sock-darning seance.
-Rick Rockhill

I think I May Have "Jumped The Shark"

Last weekend while in Sonoma Wine Country, we passed through the nice little town of St Helena. It has a great main street with all kinds of interesting shops, cafes and interesting sites to get you to spend your money. In order to defend my honor and pride, I feel it is necessary to explain that by this point, I had been away from my dogs for four days and really missed them a lot. So fast forward back to St Helena Main Street. I was tired. There was a little bit of cash burning a hole in my pocket and I felt compelled to buy something. We moseyed into a shop with an interesting array of stuff...a crazy statue of an Egyptian woman caught my eye. I feigned an interest in it and mumbled something about it being perfect for the front foyer (it wasn't). I just wanted to see if John was paying attention (he wasn't). Then I saw it- a wall of linens, towels and such...but behind the counter was a massive embroidery machine. I was fascinated watching and listening to it hum along, the machine whirring as it stitched various patterns, letters and designs into towels, sheets, and pillowcases. I started to dismiss it as completely ridiculous until I saw the sample patterns hanging ever-so-conveniently within reach. Instantly I spotted the Standard Poodle design. I thought about my poor poodles sitting at home pining away for me to return. Without hesitation I beckoned the sales girl and asked her embroider two dish towels for the kitchen. One with a black poodle and the name Sheldon and another with a brown poodle and the name Duncan. After paying a ridiculous price for these novelties, I waited as the machine did its thing. I'm not sure why but it really held my attention. I was so pleased with myself for finding something to buy that day. I was smiling just thinking about my dogs and how much they would appreciate their new dishtowels when I got back home. (think about what I just typed there). The day continued...

above: I stopped at Woodhouse chocolates and paused in front of their display-window. It featured a number of hand made chocolate lollypops shaped as flowers. It was so nifty. For a brief moment I felt like I was the Mayor of Lollypop Land, wherever that is. I was still thinking about my dogs back home alone, with just the pet sitter to keep them company.

When I returned home I was so happy to see Duncan and Sheldon. They are such happy dogs. I promptly unpacked their new embroidered dish towels and ceremoniously put them on display. Sheldon walked over and sniffed them, and walked away, unfazed. As I stared at the towels, I realized I may just have "jumped the shark" in buying something so ridiculous, especially for a guy. (the term "jump the shark" is an idiom to describe when something went from cool to absurd). Suddenly I had become my great grandmother. Not even my grandmother collects stuff like this. Oh well, there are worse things to be I suppose. Besides, my great grandma was pretty cool. And so are my two poodles, don't cha think so?
-Rick Rockhill

Of Hillbillies and Blabbermouths...

Sometimes its best not to say what one is thinking within one's own head. I was reminded of this twice in the past week. Both times I regretted my utterances the moment they passed my lips. It all started when I was at an event that had a buffet brunch thingy at the former estate of Frank Sinatra here in Palm Springs. I made my way around the piano-shaped pool (yes you read that correctly, Old Blue Eyes had a pool in the shape of a grand piano). Anyway I made my way around the pool toward the buffet. It looked scrumptious. Or maybe I was just hungry. Well at any rate I shuffled along with my plate when suddenly I saw the largest salad I've ever seen. (see photo above left). Now if you look at that photo quickly, it doesn't look so big, but look at the hand of the person in front of me- extending a dinner size plate over the mega salad. It was big. I think I already explained that so I'll move on. Well thinking I was amusing, I looked at the mega salad in wonderment and feigned shock and awe. I looked at the woman charged with serving the mega salad (who was using a small back-hoe to scoop it out) and said to her: "Wow, that is one BIG salad! I don't think I've ever seen a salad that big before". The salad back-hoe operator looked at me, saying nothing. I continued: 'Well I must sound like some kind of hillbilly, never seen anything from the big city before". The woman bristled at my remark. I should have stopped there- it was bad enough. But no, of course it was too late, I had a bad case of the blabbers. Then I gave my best hillbilly impression (aka southerner) and in a somewhat condescending tone exclaimed: "Weyull now, ah've nev-errr seen no salad that beeyugg beee- forrree". While saying it, I modulated my high-pitched hillbilly voice up and down for an uneven pitch rhythm if you know what I mean. The salad back hoe operator glared at me- but before I could process her look it was time to shuffle down the line. As I stood at the next dish of something or other, I could hear her speaking in the distance to the person behind me. Perhaps you guessed it. The salad back-hoe operator was of course A SOUTHERNER with quite a heavy twang. I had obviously offended her with my stupid and insensitive impression. But the damage was done. Live and learn, right? Well maybe not. A few days later at a restaurant I encountered this:

Monster Mac & Cheese. The waiter at Trio warned me their Macaroni and Cheese dish was huuuuggggeeee. I ignored his advice and ordered it anyway, instead saying to the waiter in a rather gruff tone: "Ah c'mon, I'm no pansy, I can handle it". Our waiter, incidentally was seemingly gay, I could see he wasn't crazy about me using the pansy term. Perhaps he realized that I too am gay and he brushed off my remark and moved on. Later when the entrees were served, the Monster Mac & Cheese entree was presented to me. It was huge alright. I gasped at its size. Must have been a pound of pasta, as the dish was quite deep. Well as I stared at the Monster dish, I exclaimed loudly: "What kind of pig would eat this much food anyway?"And as said it I could sense a recoiling of the person at the table next to me. My peripheral vision picked up the couple seated adjacent and sure enough the rather large woman sitting next to me had the same Monster Mega Grande Mac & Cheese entree- but she had consumed nearly all of it. She had a horrified look on her face as I shriveled into a tiny ball at the table. It seems I did not learn from the Hillbilly salad remark to KEEP MY BIG MOUTH SHUT. Maybe now, after two infractions I will begin to practice the true art of discretion.
What about you, you ever made a fool of yourself twice in one week?
side note: my sincere apologies to any hillbilly blogger friends. I just love southern hospitality. And sweet potato pie. And sweet tea. And the Piggly Wiggly. ah, you get it.
-Rick Rockhill

The Amazing Back-Flipping Poodle

You just have to check this out;

Travel Tales, Part V: Phones, What a Drag

I’ve just returned from a week long trip attending the Global Pet Expo in Orlando, Florida. I’ve had a fair amount of travel the past few months, most of which without any unusual circumstances, until yesterday. It was on the flight home when I found inspiration for another installment of Travel Tales.

It all started with the belligerent man who would not hang up his cell phone. This was a guy probably in his early thirties; certainly old enough to know how to behave properly. All passengers had been seated, the cabin doors, closed and the flight attendants were conducting pre-flight checks preparing the cabin for departure. The usual series of announcements had been made, including the “Ladies and gentleman the cabin door has now been closed, please put away all electronic devices, cell phones, computers, laptops, blackberries, anything with an on/off switch”. Actually this was the second such announcement, and third if you count the one just before the doors closed stating that it was time to begin shutting down, ending calls, etc. Now for me, when I hear those initial announcements, that’s usually my indication it is nearing take off time. Considering the fact that I chose to be on this flight to get somewhere, I also want to get to my destination on time. So anything that keeps the flight on schedule is good. As far as the concept of not using cell phones or electronic stuff at take-off and landing, I’ve heard it may not actually interfere with airplane communications, but the way I figure it is I’m really not an expert, and besides it’s the airline/FAA rules so who am I to argue? And further, if it helps prevent pilot error or other equipment problems that seems like a good enough reason for me to follow orders, so I have no problem turning it all off. Apparently not for the fellow passenger who is the subject of this first story. There he sat in front of me, jabbering away on his cell phone ABOUT NOTHING. Believe me I know, as I was eavesdropping on the entire conversation- well he was speaking loudly, well that plus the volume on the earpiece was so loud I could hear the person on the other end of the call. A flight attendant walked by and saw him still on the phone and she asked him if he was ending the call, to which he just nodded but continued talking. She walked away and returned a minute later but this time said to him: “You’ll need to say good bye now on that call” and walked away a second time. A full minute later she returned to find him still talking- she stopped and firmly said to him: “Sir, Two words, Good- Bye”. Apparently he must have owned the airline or be king of the Universe because he ignored her and waved her off dismissively. She started walking away but I saw her stop dead in her tracks, as if she processed what he had gestured to her, and decided to herself she was not going to take that from him. She returned to confront him- and he was STILL ON THE PHONE. He looked up and mumbled something to the flight attendant, to which she replied: “Excuse me, sir?” He replied, “You know what I said”. I was thrilled, this was quite titillating, suddenly I wasn’t feeling sleepy anymore. The flight attendant was revving the volume of her voice, yet was still professional and explained that as a passenger of this flight he was required to observe all crew direction and announcements, and if he refused to do so would be removed from the flight. The man was was belligerent and nasty to her, and they continued to exchange remarks. Finally another flight attendant came to the scene, and then a co-pilot. And then finally I heard the cabin door re-open and on walked an air marshal. And with that, the man was ejected from the flight. It was quite swift. I was thrilled. What a fool, all because of some precious phone call that he would not end. This did delay departure a bit to complete some paperwork, but only a few minutes, so I thought it was well worth the wait.

Once the flight was in air and reached cruising altitude, in-flight service began. I had taken a little nap and hadn’t really paid much attention to the attendant who was now working the section where I was seated (this was a different person from the earlier story). She seemed sweet enough and was doting on the passengers darting about from row to row. I noticed her movements seemed a bit jerky, which is what first caught my attention. Before I go any further with this story, I feel compelled to state that I am not criticizing, or making fun of this person in any way. The attendant was rather tall, slender, lots of make-up and had a big poof of dirty blondish hair. She had an awkward smile, and a nervous habit of running her fingers through the puff of hair parted over her forehead. I studied her for awhile, from afar. There was something quite unusual but I couldn’t put my finger on what it was about her. When she began serving drinks, it appeared as if she was fumbling a bit, darted her eyes back and forth between the passenger and the glasses with which she was working. Things were flying in every direction- lime wedges slipping from her fingers, napkins bursting open from the plastic package and fluttering outward like butterflies. She was jittery for sure. But that wasn’t it, there was something else but soon I was pulled into my music playing and distracted yet again. When it was time for the meal service she returned with her little trolley. I took one look and it hit me. She looked like Dorothy Michaels. In case the name Dorothy Michaels doesn’t ring a bell, it was the name of the character Dustin Hoffman played in the film “Tootsie”. I was fascinated. I immediately corrected myself, thinking, no, it can’t be. I must be imagining things. Maybe it was just a hormonal imbalance. That seemed plausible. At all times I maintained absolute discretion, but I felt compelled to look closer. Now on inspection, it was as if everything pointed in that direction. My mind shifted what I was seeing and convinced me that I was right. Now It does not matter to me either way- I always say live and let live. It may not be my cup of tea, but far be it for me to judge, comment or draw attention to the situation. But it struck me how good she did look and I don't think anyone else had noticed anything different about her. What drew attention my to her was her exaggerated movements, seemingly designed to be extra convincing that she was a woman, almost a motherly figure. I began looking up and down the aisle at the other attendants, to observe their movement and manner. perhaps I was just imagining things. Nope, nothing unusual there. Ours was different. She must have been nervous about something, I began to wonder, was this perhaps a first day “out” working again after the change? Or had someone been unnecessarily cruel earlier that upset her? There was no way to know, of course. Then something else caught my eye- her legs. I leaned down to get my computer bag while she was standing behind me. Her stocking covered legs were long and smooth, okay seems normal. But then I saw it. A distinct patch of leg hair, and not just a little stubble, they were full curly hairs. It looked as if these legs recently had full grown leg hair on them and were recently shaved smooth- all but one little patch that was missed. Ah-ha. I felt like Sherlock Holmes, cracking the case of the Flight Attendant in Question. Once I had solved the mystery I smiled to myself, having satisfied my own curiosity. I settled back into my chair, closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep, humming "Maybe It's You" by Stephen Bishop to myself. It was indeed worthy of a Travel Tales episode.

-Rick Rockhill

Nitwits, Ninnies & Nincompoops

How silly of me. I realized yesterday that I've been overlooking pure comedy from someone who leaves comments that typically just get deleted. This person is what I would consider a Nitwit. A Ninny, or a Nincompoop. In case you are wondering, here is how dictionary.com defines each of those terms:
Nitwit a slow-witted, stupid, or foolish person. Synonyms: fool, blockhead, dolt, dunce, booby.
Ninny: a fool or simpleton.
Nincompoop: a fool or simpleton.
Doubtless some of you have your share of such witless wonders. In the case of this blog, it is one fool who is either so enamored by me or secretly loves the content of this blog that they visit regularly and leave foolish comments. Or should I say hateful comments. I think they are quite amusing actually, but I delete them none-the-less. As I delete them I wonder to myself, doesn't this person have anything better to do in their life than read blogs they dislike? It reminds me of those ultra left wing nut jobs who listen to Rush Limbaugh and scream and yell- when in fact they should just change the channel. Even my friend Cher agrees with me on that. With all the millions of blogs out there I am flattered that anyone even takes the time to read this blog- especially those who claim to hate me. In fact it means even more that someone who hates me continues to read this blog. So for those of you who are friends of this blog, thank for your continued support and friendship. And for that nitwit/ninny/nincompoop who likes to leave negative comments, I sincerely thank you for the continued visits here, I always welcome visitors, they help drive site traffic metrics.

The Adventures of Sheldon & Duncan: The Cracker Calamity

The past few days I've been quite busy entertaining at home. Nothing huge, but a few nights in a row I hosted wine and cheese type thingies for friends and business associates. Needless to say I went through the house each day cleaned, tidied up and made sure everything was immaculate. After Friday's reception, I wrapped up the remaining cheeses, veggies and placed them back in the refrigerator. The miscellaneous crackers seemed best in a gallon zip lock bag, to keep them fresh for the next night when I was expecting another group of folks for wine and cheese once again. Saturday afternoon I ran a few errands-taking me out of the house for an hour or two at most. When I returned home I discovered what shall henceforth be known as The Cracker Calamity. No doubt you recall other such adventures, such as The Spanish Moss Incident, The Paper Towel Massacre, The Hapless Happenstance, or even The Mud Bath Muddle.

The poodles were trying to greet me, bouncing all over the place- that is until I gazed upon the sofa, which was covered with crumbs of crackers. It seems that I forgot to "poodle proof" the kitchen before I left, and one of them managed to pull the gallon zip lock bag of crackers off the counter and proceeded to shred the bag to get to the crackers. I yelled loudly at Sheldon and Duncan as I stood in front of the sofa. They knew they were in trouble, and sheepishly walked over to the sofa with their heads hung low. I spoke loudly and firmly, addressing them with the rhetorical question: "WHO DID THIS?". Without missing a beat, Duncan stepped forward and sat down in front of the sofa and looked up at me. Sheldon stayed far behind his younger brother. I could almost hear Sheldon thinking "This one is all yours Duncan, don't get me involved". Owen, the kitty sat even further away, and he was thinking: "I told you, I told you not to touch those crackers." As I inspected the shredded plastic bag, I realized most of the crackers were still in the bag. I guess they didn't care for the crackers...of course they must have been dry and flavorless to the poodles!

above: its difficult to see it in this photo, but there were cracker crumbs all over the floor as well..

above: Duncan and Sheldon stared at the evil vacuum cleaner as it whirred and hummed. Owen remained safely under the bar stool where errant machines with suction could do no harm to furry little kitties. In not time at all, The Cracker Calamity of 2010 was but a distant memory.

Travel Tales: Journey to My-Yammy

*The following is true account.*
Travel has always been a component of my job throughout my career. When you combine my work-related travel with my personal enjoyment of "people watching" plus my side hobby of writing and blogging, travel provides a seemingly never-ending supply of content for my blog. Thus was born my Travel Tales series. Today I am in Miami, Florida speaking at a Global Conference on Pet Nutrition. I flew out of Palm Springs on an early flight, still half asleep but resigned to bag a few zzzzz's on the cross-country journey. The moment I sat down I knew I would not be able to sleep. Partly due to some distracting passengers, and partly my strange desire to hear it all. I was comfortably settled in my seat, observing these representatives of humanity slowly crawl down the narrow aisles. I looked down at my Blackberry momentarily to check e-mail when I heard the voice of an excited and bubbly woman chatting. She was overwhelmed with excitement of being on a plane. I glanced up at her as she approached-she looked to be in her mid-thirties. Her perfectly-coiffed blond hair sat on her head like a helmet. She was dressed as though she had put a great deal of thought into what she picked out to wear that day (see photo of actress Pat Priest for a visual image). I made the fatal mistake of making eye contact. "Hi my name is Connie!" she boomed. "This is my first flight and I am SO excited". I feigned a smile and immediately dove for my carry-on bag to find my headphones and iPod. Much to my horror, she was sitting right behind me. It could have been worse, I thought, imagine if she were in my row. Already seated next to her was a big burly man, middle-aged with a dyed mustache that resembled broom bristles. His eyebrows looked like giant caterpillars. Through my head phones I could hear Connie introduce herself to the big burly man next to her. Turns out she won this trip in a contest and it was her first time ever traveling. As Connie chatted with the big burly man next to her, he launched into small talk, except there wasn't anything small about it. In fact he had a big huge voice that bellowed several rows in every direction. I watched his caterpillar eyebrows move up and down as he spoke. Then suddenly, I looked to my left, and standing next to me, signaling that she wanted into the row was "Amazon Woman". I started to remove my headphones and stood up to move out into the aisle, but before I could do so, she lumbered in, past me, stepping on my toes. I winced in pain as I felt my toes meld into one piece of flesh. My eyes watered. As Amazon Woman sat down next to the window, even she turned around to see what all the noise was from Connie and big burly man. Before I could get my headphones back on, Amazon Woman sparked up a conversation: "Are you going to My-Yammy too?" I thought for a moment, this woman can't be too bright, because in fact we were all going to Miami. But I gave her the benefit of the doubt and just nodded. I'm not sure why I didn't actually speak, but no words came out. Perhaps because her appearance scared me some. She was very very tall, with a wild black hair, and enormous hands and feet. Meanwhile Connie kept chatting away endlessly pressing all the buttons and admiring the blankets provided. Later, when the in-flight service began, big burly man ordered a vodka and tomato juice, which he immediately justified as a cure for his "restless leg syndrome". This seemed utterly ridiculous, but fascinated Connie which led to a two hour conversation about health issues. Turns out big burly man not only suffers from restless leg syndrome, but also sleep apnea, erectile dysfunction, allergies and what he called "carpet tunnel syndrome". As soon as I heard him say that, my eyes shot open. Carpet tunnel syndrome? He must mean carpal tunnel (as in the wrists). Well not only did he continue to explain it, but Connie kept repeating it back to him: "Ooooohhh that carpet tunnel syndrome sounds just awful, how do you catch it?" She asked. Big burly man replied that he caught it from his job. When she asked what he did for a living he told her he was a truck driver for guess who- Shaw floors and carpets (honestly what are the odds?). Connie drew the conclusion that he must have caught it from the carpets he was delivering. Big burly man agreed (although in all fairness I think he meant from the repetitive pressure and movement, but not actually FROM the carpets. Anyway, I tried to contain my fit of giggles and managed a fake cough instead. Amazon Woman looked over toward me and asked if we could use the restrooms "up there". I gazed back at her. Within a millisecond I decided to have fun with her, so once again I didn't respond verbally, I just shrugged my shoulders in a quizzical manner. She quickly stood up and banged her head on the ceiling- I immediately thought of Herman Munster, except if it were an episode of The Munsters, his head would have gone through the overhead cabin and he would have exclaimed "Uh, Lily!!" By the time my mind came back to the moment, Amazon Woman was walking past me, but I was still seated, and of course she stepped on my other foot this time. I reached down to hold my foot as it throbbed in pain. Amazon Woman grunted as she made her way down the aisle, knocking into an elderly woman's head who shrieked loudly.

Meanwhile Connie was helping call the flight attendant over so big burly man could order another vodka. Connie explained to the attendant that her friend has restless leg syndrome and the vodka really helps him. The flight attendant was nonplussed and returned with the mini-bottle. 'Ahhh, perfect", barked big burly man. By this time he was three vodkas into it, and he was guffawing loudly at virtually everything Connie said.

Amazon Woman returned- this time I pulled my legs up onto the seat, Indian style. "How soon until we get to My-Yammy?" she asked me. I figured, why start talking now, so I just twisted my face into an expression that indicated I didn't understand English. So she asked me a second time, but more loudly, and slowly: 'WHAT TIME TILL WE GET TO MY-YAMMY?" I just shook my head and raised my shoulders, still saying nothing. I was having fun with this now.She finally gave up asking me and I secretly smiled inside. I watched her out of the corner of my eye. She was studying me, as if I were a rare species she had never seen before. Amazon Woman leaned back in her seat and the combination of her weight and the fact that the big burly man was himself large, her seat hit his knees. He leaned forward and asked her to move forward a bit. As she adjusted her seat, she pulled and tugged at her head rest, and suddenly, off it came- the entire blue leather head rest came off in her hands. Again, I thought, she is Herman Munster. Big burly man shouted "Whoa now that's some strength you have there, honey". Amazon Woman turned deep red and continued to fumble with it, attempting to reconnect it in place. Connie called over the flight attendant for another vodka for her friend with restless leg syndrome and to ask for help with Amazon Woman's head seat malfunction. Frustrated with not being able to reconnect it, she just handed it over to the flight attendant. I watched the expression on the face of the flight attendant who was clearly intimidated by Amazon Woman. She sheepishly walked away with the head rest and exhaled deeply. Amazon Woman called out to the attendant, "Am I going to have to sit here all the way to My Yammy without a head rest? she asked. The flight attendant replied: "Well this flight is completely full, so we don't have any other seats for you".Amazon Woman grumbled and then in frustration jerked her head against the window shade, which let our a slight crack sound from the impact of her massive head. Herman Munster had struck again. I turned up the volume on my iPod and squeeze my eyes shut tightly as a heaved and laughed uncontrollably. Sometimes reality is better than fiction. And then I realized, this just was all-too deserving of a blog post.
-Rick Rockhill

The Mysterious Case of Missing Socks

I have a mystery on my hands that has me stupefied. It's the Mysterious Case of Missing Socks. Its one of the chores I dread most- folding socks. I don't mind sorting and washing them, that's no problem. Its when they come out of the dryer that I hate these knitted foot coverings ever so. I'm wondering if you have the same problem that our household has- an ever-growing pile of single-socks. Yes, socks with no match. I'm at the point that I could probably open a sock shop for one-legged men. I can't figure out our how it is that so many socks just go missing. Before you move on, look at this photo above. It is the pile of clean socks from the dryer (ok so its a few loads, but they are all clean). I start the folding process by sorting them out by color on the bed in one of the guest rooms, so I can see them all. Then I begin to find pairs and fold them...that is until I have to chase a few socks down the hall...

above: of course, having two mischievous sock-bandit poodles in the house doesn't help. Here is Duncan caught red-handed. Ahem, red-mouthed, I guess... escaping with a sock! He practically tip toes over the the side of the bed, carefully pulls off a sock with his front teeth and runs away, trying not to be noticed! But in all honesty, I know the poodles are not all to blame. I eventually find the socks they steal. So where do the rest of them go??

above: Check out the very first photo at the top. Those were ALL the socks that I washed. Now look at this immediate photo above. All the single socks lined up at the foot of the bed have no match. It's a case for Sherlock Holmes. In an effort to keep better track of my socks, once I have them folded, they go into special drawers by type of sock, color or pattern:

above: strictly casual socks, cotton/wool blends from black, green and tan...

above: more casual socks, in cotton, from black to grey to tan...

above: wool dress socks, in green, olive and khaki...

above: wool/cotton dress blue socks

above: wool/nylon/cotton dress black socks
All my colored socks get folded in half like these above. Despite my cataloging system, I somehow lose socks. Where could they all disappear to? Is it the sock monster? The black hole? A cosmic rift? A time-space continuum Perhaps some other mysterious force of nature? At times, I'm tempted to throw out all my socks and just buy one color and call it a day. Or maybe I should hire a sock detective. Hmmmm.
What's the story with socks in your home?
-Rick Rockhill

Travel Tales, Part III

Note: Travel Tales are true observations witnessed by The Palm Springs Savant while on the road. Truth is, (as they say) stranger than fiction. Read these for yourself:
Yesterday's air travels yet again provided fresh fodder for my budding new series called Travel Tales. The first leg of my journey was an early morning flight from Providence. I boarded quickly and settled in to observe my fellow passengers make their way to their seats. Southwest has the easiest boarding process. Their open seating really speeds things up- not having to squint to find a row or seat number makes things substantially easier for everyone involved. Yet even this apparently proved too difficult for one chap who was confused and befuddled from the moment he stepped onto the plane. It all stemmed from his boarding group number, which was C 10. He seemed to think that he was entitled to seat C, in row 10. Somehow he missed the memo that Southwest was open seating. And somehow he didn't catch the point that he did not have a boarding pass stub indicating a seat number, or that no one else was sitting in assigned seats. Anyway he approached the seat marked 10C and proceeded to shout at a rather scantily clad woman who was already seated in 10C. She was clearly startled when he accused her of being in his seat. After they traded barbs and choice words, she flipped him a double-bird (two hands) and told him she wasn't moving. He responded by turning his backside to her and rather ceremoniously released a long trumpet sound of noxious flatulence in her face, turning his head back long enough to shout one last expletive at her. Unlucky for me, I was a bit closer to all this than I would have preferred. Let's just say the after-effects of his gas-passing hung in the air and lingered for what seemed like the entire flight. It was utterly gross.

The incident on my second flight was a dose of pure physical comedy at its finest. Once again, it was during the boarding process. The final group of passengers were making their way down the aisle, in search of any open seat. The flight was full, so there weren't many options available. I spied a guy approaching who was busy multi- tasking like I had never seen. He was talking on the phone with his head tilted to one side, while texting on another wireless device, while holding a Starbucks coffee and pushing his roller bag down the aisle! He approached the row where I was seated and saw an open seat across the other side of the aisle. He lifted his bag up into the overheard bin, still talking non-stop on the phone. He didn't stop to think. He lifted one side of the bag with one hand and "balanced" it with the other hand that held a cup of coffee and his BlackBerry. As he glided the bag into the overhead bin, he turned his coffee hand counter-clockwise, still never pausing his phone conversation. He was completely unaware that he was emptying the contents of his coffee down onto the passenger below, a Southern woman with a big poofy hair-doo wearing a flower on her lapel. It was a sticky mess; coffee dripping from the ovehead storage, all down the seats and into the aisle. The Southern lady with the big fancy hair-doo shrieked in horror and cried out "Sweet Jesus, my perm!" I was just across the aisle and tried to help by tapping the guy on the arm to signal that he was dousing the woman in coffee, but he jerked his hand back which caused a backlash motion sending more coffee in the direction behind him. It all happened so quickly I couldn't react any faster. By this time the Southern Lady was sobbing, her makeup running down her cheeks, from a combination of coffee and tears. It was quite the mess. Lucky for me I escaped any of the coffee splattering which was a good thing because I needed to head to work directly after my flight. The flight attendant made her way over and helped remedy the situation  as best she could. As soon as the plane was above 10,000 feet I whipped out my laptop and documented these two incidents while they were fresh in my mind. Nothing like some new Travel Tales to kick off the week, eh?

After re-reading both of these, I still they are worthy of a Travel Tales installment, don't you agree? At least no one was eating food off the floor this time. There's something to be grateful for anyway. Thanks for stopping by today, I greatly appreciate it.

-Rick Rockhill

Travel Tales, Part II

You may recall back in July I wrote a post called Travel Tales. It chronicled a few incidents I observed while on the road. This past week, while I was in San Francisco I witnessed another episode that I thought was worth of a fresh Travel Tales follow up installment. I should start off with the admission reminder that I am somewhat of a germ-o-phobe. That being said here is the scene: I'm at SFO airport, waiting for my flight home. I'm at the gate area, relaxing with my Wall Street Journal newspaper when a woman sits down in the open seat next to me. She has a white bag with some food she had just purchased. As she settle into her seat, she pulls out a white carton of hot soup, and a piece of French baguette. All of a sudden, the whole piece of bread falls out of her hand and onto the floor. As it was sudden movement, naturally it caught my eye. She was still fiddling with her things and there the piece of bread sat on the filthy airport carpet at our feet. And then, the UNTHINKABLE occurred. She reached down, picked up the piece of bread and yes, you guessed it- she proceeded to EAT THE BREAD that had been on the FILTHY AIRPORT CARPET. I discreetly pulled out my camera and took these photos moments after. The top left is her hand, dipping the scum-laden, bacteria covered piece of bread into her soup.

above: The circle indicates where the piece of bread landed on the airport carpet. As if this were not enough, at one point, her plastic spoon fell onto the floor as she was eating. So keep in mind, the spoon was wet with soup. And yes, once again she reached down, picked up the spoon from the airport carpet and continued using it. SHE DIDN'T EVEN WIPE OFF THE SPOON. So there must have been carpet fibers, dust or worse- fecal matter or something like that on her spoon. God only KNOWS what that spoon picked up. Ugh, so utterly disgusting. While slurping her soup, the woman proceeded to strike up a conversation with me, so I used the opportunity to snap those photos. I pretended I was "experimenting" with my camera, trying to shoot a photo of a plane on the tarmac. That allowed me to get the photo of her hand with the bread and the soup. Oh it was so gross. It reminded me once again, how disgusting people can be. Now- all that being said, I should state that I fully understand that there are people in far worse situations, hungry, destitute and desperate who do not have food to eat. I have full sympathy for such people and would never judge someone in that situation eating and not wasting something just because it had fallen on the floor. But I differentiate between someone in that situation compared to this business woman who should have better judgement. So tell me, am I crazy about this? If your piece of French bread and soupy spoon both fell on the floor at the airport, would you eat the bread and use the spoon? Leave a comment, I'm curious. Thank you for stopping by.

-Rick Rockhill

Just When You Thought You'd Seen It All..Here Comes Aspray

I ran across this video on my friend Stephen's blog yesterday, and it was so ridiculous that I just had to share it here on my humble little blog as well. Mind you, it may well be a fine product but the video is just too bizarre. Then again I suppose how else does one tackle delicate issues such as this? Take a look-see for yourself at Aspray and tell me what you think.

I suppose the makers of Aspray are genius in a way. After all, people like me are posting this video on blogs an giving them free advertising. So who has the last laugh? I suspect they do.

Travel Tales

I've been meaning to write a post about this but keep forgetting to do so. With all the air travel I've had lately, one tends to see a lot of bizarre behavior at airports and in flight. I've long been a student of public behavior, or "people watching" as it is more commonly called. All I can say is people do the darnedest things. Before proceeding any further, I should disclose a few things up front: 1) I am somewhat of a germ-o-phobe, 2) I am a bit of a traditionalist when it comes to manners and conducting oneself as a gentleman or lady, and 3) I have a tendency to be a little judgemental. That being said, I feel compelled to share these Travel Tales here with you. The first is the Tale of the Dirty Sandwich. Our flight had taken off and we had reached cruising altitude. I'm settled in, wearing my neck pillow and prepared for the journey. My eyes were closed in an attempt to block out the surrounding distractions, and maybe even catch a wink or two. All of a sudden I hear a rustling of plastic and start to smell food. Out of curiosity, I open my eyes and glance over to the seat across the aisle. There is a woman unpacking the contents of a plastic grocery store bag and laying it all out on her tray table. I watched, fascinated by what she had brought onto the plane. Truth be told, I have no issue with the fact she brought her own food, as airline food is nearly inedible if you are even lucky to get any at all. Anyhow, she starts an assembly line, which I now realize is to feed herself and two others seated nearby. But then she does something that really grosses me out: she lays out all the food components DIRECTLY ONTO THE TRAY TABLE, with no napkin or plastic. Picture this: a stack of sliced deli cheese, sliced cold cuts, sliced bread, PICKLES, all sitting there touching the tray table. She whips out a jar of mustard and begins making sandwiches. Apparently she must have the one completely sanitary tray table in the universe. Or perhaps she and her guests were already riddled with deadly bacteria and didn't mind a bit more from the tray table. They all happily consumed their lunch. When she was finished- she found a glob of mustard on the tray table. And yes, you guessed it, she swabbed it with her index finger of the tray table and licked her finger! I nearly vomited right there and then.
Next story: The Tale of the Dirty Diaper
I'm sitting in an airport, waiting at the gate to board the flight. We had easily 30 minutes to go before boarding started. Plenty of time for anyone to use the restroom which was 30 feet away. A mother and father stood nearby with their young toddler who was running around terrorizing everyone. The mother decided it was time to change the boy's diaper, so she calls him over, puts him on the floor, right at the gate, removes his pants and dirty diaper, and begins the usual process of changing a poopy diaper, right there in front of everyone- ON THE FLOOR AT THE GATE. Everyone watched in horror, especially me. What is it with people, couldn't she walk to the restroom to do this? Then once finished, she helped herself to a bag of potato chips, never having washed her hands.
My final story is the Tale of the Silly Songstress. Just my luck, I sit next to the future American Idol contestant who thinks she is better than she is. I was in my seat, feeling a bit grumpy so I kept to myself and didn't chat with anyone as I sat down and organized myself. I began reading my newspaper when the person sitting next to me begins singing, just loud enough that I could hear it. I stopped for a moment, and tried to figure out what was going on. I kept my face buried in the paper, not wanting to encourage her further. She wasn't wearing headphones and unknowingly "singing along", she was just sitting there singing. After two minutes I put down my paper, turned to her and said, "Would you mind not singing aloud, I find it rather distracting." She started to giggle and said "Aw you are sweet, let me try a different song for you." To my horror she continued to sing on and on. I finally had to break out my sony noise cancelling headphones and play my iPod. She actually had the nerve to ask why I needed to listen to my own music when I had her sitting there. I let her have it. She finally shut up and didn't say a word to me for the rest of the flight. Sometimes the direct approach is best.
Anyway those are my Travel Tales for today. Do you have any to share?
-Rick Rockhill

The Great Mollie Sugden has Passed On

The great British comedic actress Mollie Sugden has passed away at age 86. She was well known for portraying the the hilarious saleswoman Mrs. Slocombe in the popular BBC sitcom, Are You Being Served? that ran from 1972 to 1985. Being a retailer, it was one of my absolute favorite TV programs. When I lived in the Boston area I used to watch reruns of Are You Being Served? on PBS twice per night. Yes, I was a little obsessed with it. I could probably recite every line from every episode. Mrs Slocombe was so much fun. One time she was in Boston for a PBS membership drive and I met her. She was such fun. A naturally funny woman who had everyone in stitches wherever she went. We have not seen much of her in years but I shall remember and honor her wonderful humor.

Below is a naughty compilation of her character from Are You Being Served? when her character famously talked about her cat, in deadpan language....enjoy!

Mollie- Rest In Peace, the world lost a wonderfully talented comic today.

-Rick Rockhill

Can You Guess What This Is?

Since it is nearly the big holiday weekend I thought I would have some fun today with a little game for you to play along. All you have to do is venture a guess what you think this is. Just leave a comment. Go ahead, have some fun with this one.

Update 7/3: The Correct answer is a Galileo Dog Chew, made by Nylabone. It is a long lasting chew. As a reminder, this was just a game, not a commercial or paid post.

Thanks to everyone who guessed!

A Tuesday Chuckle

A lady goes to the bar on a cruise ship and orders a Scotch with two drops of water. As the bartender gives her the drink she says,

'I'm on this cruise to celebrate my 80th birthday and it's today...'

The bartender says, 'Well, since it's your birthday, I'll buy you a drink. In fact, this one is on me.'

As the woman finishes her drink, the woman to her right says, 'I would like to buy you a drink, too.'

The old woman says, 'Thank you. Hey bartender, I want a Scotch with two drops of water.'

'Coming up,' says the bartender
The old woman says, 'Thank you. Hey bartender, I want another Scotch with two drops of water.'

'Coming right up,' the bartender says.

As he gives her the drink, he says, 'Ma'am, I'm dying of curiosity. Why the Scotch with only two drops of water?'

The old woman replies, 'Sonny, when you're my age, you've learned how to hold your liquor. Holding your water, however, is a whole other issue.'
Happy Tuesday!
-Rick Rockhill

Fond Memories and a Joke From Joe

I've been missing Koshimi lately and dug up this photo from last August when we drove up to the wine country in Northern California. Here we are amid the vineyards at Ledson Winery in Sonoma. Sheldon was just five months old, and was nearly the same size as Shimi. I remember this day as if it were yesterday. We had so much fun with both dogs. This particular day we went to Ledson to enjoy some wine and for lunch. I'm so happy we stopped for this photo. Sheldon and Shimi had so much fun running through the vineyards and looking at the grapes nearing harvest time. Fond memories indeed.

By the way, I sure had a lot of fun with my "What Movie is This?" posts the past two days. I want to thank to everyone who left a comment or sent me an e-mail with their guesses to the film titles. Either I picked really easy films, or y'all just know your 80's movies! I'll try that again sometime. OK so now here's a little joke that my brother Joe sent to me. I should warn you- if you are very religious or a strict Catholic, skip over this joke.
Hope you have a great Wednesday. Now here's my brother Joe's little joke:

While driving home, a neighborhood priest saw a Nun walking along the road, and decided to offer her a lift.

The Nun got in the car, sat down and crossed her legs, forcing her gown to reveal a leg, causing the priest to nearly have an accident

After regaining control of the car, the priest steadily slid his hand up her leg. The Nun said: "Father, remember Psalm 129?" The priest removed his hand.

But changing gears, he let his hand slide up her leg again.
The Nun once again said, "Father, remember Psalm 129"

The priest apologized and said "Sorry Sister, but the flesh is weak"

Arriving at the convent, the Nun sighed heavily and went on her way.

On his arrival at the chursh, the priest rushed to his Bible to look up Psalm 129.

It said, 'Go forth and seek, further up, you will find glory."

Moral of the story:
If you are not well informed in your job, you might miss a great opportunity.
-Rick Rockhill

Friday Funnies

Yesterday was a super long day at work. Sheldon and I were in the office by 6:00 am and we finally left at 8:15 pm. Sheldon had a few walks and of course had plenty of snacks, toys and treats available at his whim. Anyway I was way too tired to write much of a blog post, but I thought it would be fun to share a few funny pet photos I've been hanging onto. I can't even imagine how upset the person was who owned the laptop in this photo! I'm not sure you could ever get that dog pee out of the keyboard! Anyway, here are two more funny dog photos. Hope they make you smile too.

above: Sheldon dreams about being able to drive himself someday.

above: This Chihuahua with the toupe is just way too funny. Happy Friday all.

-Rick Rockhill