My dog is cuter than your dog

I've received many well-wishing condolences since my post about Rug dying - more specifically, the joy of getting to kill your own dog. I appreciate them very much but thought that I should throw in a post about "Big Boo" so it doesn't seem like I am crying myself to sleep at night on my huge pillow (we'll see how many people get that reference).

Maggie is am 18 month old Olde English Bulldogge.

No, she isn't an English Bulldog and yes I can spell. Basically she is a taller healthier version of the English Bulldog. As for the title of the entry let's cut the crap - you know it's true. As I type this she is sleeping next to me suckling in her sleep. A 65 lb bulldogge suckling in it's sleep is just below bunnies sneezing and above baby deer on the list of the world's cutest things. Don't be too jealous, I said cuter not better. She is afraid of her own shadow and frequently mistakes my loft for a fire hydrant. Her taste in chew toys ranges from designer clothes to remote controls to walls. But she is my dog and I wouldn't prefer any other.

She is named Maggie after Margaret Thatcher but I soon realized that Maggie is the most common name of dog. Didn't see that one coming. So Bulldogge was gradually shortened to Boo. Not too macho, I know, but I didn't get my dog to look tough.

Strange animal in many respects. Having a face that looks like she was hit with a shovel makes her sound like an 80 year old man during his afternoon nap much of the time. Flatulence is something else she borrows from 80 yr old men. She rarely makes a sound (besides snoring), in fact I've never heard her yelp. I've seen her fall from the couch and crack her head on the coffee table yet not a squeak. Once hiking with me I noticed that she wasn't at my heels which was unusual. I turned to see her hanging from a 10 foot drop by her front legs. But she patiently clung waiting for me to come get her - not one sound. You can walk her up to a chicken coop or herd of kittens and she shows no interest. During a car ride she just sleeps on the floor.

Many people think she's retarded. It's not a bad theory. But she was the star pupil in her obedience class. She just doesn't care about chickens or cats or physical pain for that matter. She only cares about people. She enjoys the Discovery Channel - especially dog shows. Only one major allergy thankfully - the planet Earth. Every day is a battle against some rash or infection.

And again I wouldn't trade her for the world (although all reasonable offers will be considered). Here's a little wisdom for you: Never trust someone who doesn't like dogs. Think about it, a dog-hater is someone who finds no value in unconditional love and endless entertainment and instead sees only inconvenience and a cramp on their style. You have to have some wires crossed to think that way. Entering a relationship with someone who doesn't like dogs is knowing that it is more important that you provide convenience to the person than love as this is how they prioritize. They can fake it for a while but in the end their true self must come out. Maggie makes me laugh everyday. Put a price tag on that.

A Newfound Appreciation for Electricity

Phoenix has many things that people in other states do not realize. Running water, paved roads and cable Tv to name a few. One little gem I had not experienced is an ice storm. Educational I admit, but I could have died happy without ever having cracked open my car like an egg.

Last week was a joyous romp through the (God-forsaken, frigid) breadbasket of America. I'm not built for tundra having grown up in a sandbox as you might assume. Upon arriving in Oklahoma City Sunday I had the joy of chipping my rental car from a solid block of ice (picture above provided for illustration purposes only). Driving on ice reminded me of when I was 6 and I would get a running start and hit the kitchen linoleum wearing only socks to see how far I could slide. Unfortunately most of those memories end in tears - this one promised to end in higher insurance rates. I tobogganed my way down the highway until I was out of it and had a day and a half reprieve working south of the storm.

Tuesday I had to go north to Tulsa, or as I call it "The Heart of Darkness". The drive to Tulsa was just creepy. For those of you who haven't seen the after-effects of an ice storm I'll explain. Ice is much heavier than snow. Therefore many of the things it builds up on such as tress simply crumble under the strain. Entire groves of trees looked like a giant had stepped on them. Having confirmed that my hotel had electricity I picked my way past the convoys of service trucks heading into the city and made it to safety in one piece. As I stood on my balcony I wondered at what people without power were doing to stay warm. I thought perhaps the decent thing to do would be to offer to share my room with someone less fortunate - like the Oral Roberts cheerleading squad perhaps. How can they stay warm in those little skirts? My magnanimity was soon dashed and my heart lurched when I heard the tell-tale sounds of all electricity leaving the premises. Not good.

Sun going down and no place to sleep. Fortunately my hotel in Wichita did have electricity and was willing to let me come early. It was highway time. Driving in ice at night is not something I would recommend but at least when you can only see the highway in front of you you cannot see the frozen waste that surrounds you and it is oddly comforting. I drove like a 15 year old with a learners permit taking my first lesson with dad. At least for the first hour or so. I had already driven for several hours to get to Tulsa and my patience is not the stuff of legends. Eventually I was moving down the highway at a good clip. Not a lot to occupy your mind for hours on the highway with nothing to see but Jesus billboards. I couldn't help being struck by the fact that Jesus was the only Palestinian Jew I'd ever seen that looked like a Bee Gee. I think the point they were making was lost on me.

So 3 hours later I arrived in Wichita as the happiest (perhaps luckiest) man in the city. I honestly fought to keep the grin off my face. The girl checking me into the hotel eventually asked, "Ummm why are you smiling?"

"Because you have electricity and...and.....I'm just happy."

"We're glad you're happy sir (you creepy freak)"

Now in Wichita I found myself with 2 days to kill. Caught up on my beauty sleep and found myself bored so I left to explore. I made it two steps out the door of the hotel before finding myself in near splits for the first time in a loooonnnnggggg time. I was sort of impressed with myself actually. It's amazing how flexible you can be when you're trying to avoid breaking your ass on frozen concrete. The next 5 minutes was Ryan learning how one walks (strong term) on frozen concrete. It wouldn't have been so bad if not for some smart ass rabbit named Thumper mocking my lack of dexterity as he skated around me. "We'll see who's laughing when there's a fire asshole!" I made it down to a pond where I was accosted by 50 very hungry ducks. The guilt eventually got to me (I'm such a sucker) so I went to the store and learned that there is no duck food aisle. There are hot dog buns though. Advice for you would-be duck saviors out there - break the bread into crumbs BEFORE they know you have it. Especially if there are geese. If you don't feed them fast enough they will search for food in places that are uncomfortable to say the least.

Two bad movies and an oddly eclectic museum (ever seen a T-Rex skeleton and a Martina Navratilova autograph in the same place?) later I was on a plane home. A little bruised, a little smarter and a lot more appreciative of the little sand box I call home. I now posses the greatest gift a trip into the Midwest can give you: A little smile every time I write my mortgage check.

The Land that Taste Forgot

Hello loyal readers. This post will be more upbeat. Of course after writing about putting your dog to sleep dental surgery is upbeat. Last week was a trip to the Jersey shore. Never been and was looking forward to it.

Flew into Philadelphia (don't ask why) and hit the road for Somer's Point just south of Atlantic City. Learned that my GPS had somehow confused the Philadelphia Airport with a sewer map of Taiwan. After 15 minutes of frustration I turned it off and tried the coin toss method of navigation. Three 50/50 decisions all made incorrectly later I decided "Bridge = Leaving" and made for the green monstrosity in the distance. 15 minutes later I was in Jersey. Just as I crossed the state line KISS came on the radio. It was a sign, "Abandon Taste All Ye Who Enter Here."

The next day I drove up to Seaside Heights (sounds scenic doesn't it?) by way of Atlantic City. I wasn't really in a casino mood but I couldn't drive right through without even stopping. Las Vegas it is not. I went to The Trump Plaza to play some poker. Problem - there is no poker at the Trump. Are you kidding me?! It was like finding out there is no 6 foot rat at Disneyland. Walked a while and made my way into Caesars. If there was no poker there I would have called it a day. Unfortunately there was. Important poker tip: Diamonds and Hearts look very similar when you are seated on the end. Trip queens don't beat flushes no matter how surprised you are to see that the guy you raised three times has an Ace high flush. The whole table looked at me like they didn't know whether to laugh or give me a hug and a medal. My ego didn't need that. Took my last $12 in chips and limped away.

On to Seaside. My only real experience with coastline is California. There the general rule is the closer to the water the better so I booked my hotels according to this philosophy. One glaring difference between California and New Jersey however - California coastlines don't close for the winter. As I drove up to my hotel I thought I had wandered into a Stephen King novel. The whole place was empty. On the bright side parking wasn't an issue. I had to ring a doorbell to get the guy at the hotel to wake up. He looked up at me through his sleepy haze with the expression, "Seriously?" Only guest at a 4 story hotel - gave me a room at the far end of the fourth floor. Not a problem if not for the fact that the elevator was broken! I was about to go wake up Haji to share my opinion with his decision when I realized that it's a bad idea to accost people who have your credit card number. Glad I didn't because upon entering the room I got the best laugh I had all week (see pic above). Yes folks, that is a heart shaped jacuzzi for two. Complete with fully mirrored walls. As it turns out there really isn't a right way to sit in a heart shaped jacuzzi. I could have done with out the mirrors too - there are some angles one need not ever see of one's self.

Off to Brunswick. Away from the coast - "Hey, there ARE people in New Jersey". Actually there are a lot of people. Not enough roads unfortunately. Hard lessons in Jersey "roundabouts". Nothing I can't handle - once you've driven a while in Tijuana you can parallel park the space shuttle in Manhattan.

What I learned in New Jersey:

1) In New Jersey it is perfectly acceptable to sing along with Journey. In fact you can use it to introduce yourself to the person sitting next to you. "Actually I hadn't planned to stop believing sir, but thanks for the positive remarks. Please stop looking at me because I am not going to take the next verse."

2) In New Jersey if it's your turn to take the next verse in spontaneous karaoke and you fail to do so the bartender must take your turn despite whatever he is doing and you have now made yourself a pariah.

3) Air guitar, seated or otherwise, is a perfectly acceptable in public. If, however, you failed to sing your karaoke verse do not expect an invitation to play dueling guitars. This is too bad because air guitar, like yawns, is instantly contagious.

4) Although air guitar is acceptable public expression staring at those doing so is rude.

5) Although close proximity to 3 Jersey women using the volume of their voice to do battle is physically painful there is no amount of discretion that makes covering your ears and putting your head on the bar socially acceptable.

6) If a guy who looks like Dog the Bounty Hunter asks you if you think that a bar with a chainsaw theme has an unbeatable competitive advantage the answer is an emphatic "Yes"

7) When trying to communicate with someone from Hong Kong who learned English in New Jersey skip straight to charades. All attempts in verbal communication are futile.

8) People in New Jersey have no accent - the rest of the English speaking world just speaks incorrectly.

9) If someone asks you if you want their input in New Jersey they are not actually "asking" per se.

10) Smart: Bring plenty of change for the tolls in Jersey
Not Smart: Forget why you put a bunch of change in you bag and spend it on vending machines.


Overall I had a good time. Beautiful country, sociable people, expense account - all else is detail. Enough travel for a while though. Three weeks at home to look forward to. Happy Thanksgiving everybody!!!!

R.I.P. Rug (1832-2007)

So today sucked. I had to put down one of my dogs, Rug. We don't know how old she actually was - I met her 15 years ago. It wasn't exactly a surprise but I had thought that maybe she was part cockroach and could survive a nuclear winter. This is a dog that went over a year without eating any dog food. True story. She was my Dad's dog and he took her to work everyday where she just stole food from the construction workers. She was nothing if not resourceful.

It's hard not to just remember the good things about her right now since I feel like someone donkey kicked me in the gut. Rug earned her name by having hair that rivaled Bob Marley when grown out and having a gift for sprawling exactly where you needed to step. When she was younger she could amuse herself for amazing periods of time by playing fetch by herself. She could chuck a golf ball about 15 yards given the space to do so. A 6 foot fence was merely a speed bump and she often got into my Dad's truck through the window. That athleticism probably had a lot to do with why she lived to be ummmm.....175? She could climb ladders - unfortunately only up. The best thing about Rug was that she was thrilled to be alive everyday of her life. She would roll around in the grass and then pop up covered in so much grass she looked like a sniper stalking a kill in a wheat field and just wag her tail. Not unusual I know but she did that EVERY DAY. She was thrilled to be alive.

Not a perfect Dog. She pissed wherever she pleased. Didn't like kids. Breath like napalm. Had chronic separation anxiety until I got my other dog. Whenever there was a thunderstorm I got zero sleep. She would shake violently and lay on my chest breathing her fire breath on me until I woke and tried to calm her down. Fireworks and gunshots got a similar reaction. I know that sounds endearing but not at 2am for YEARS on end!

Today Maggie (other dog) was searching the house for her. She would try to catch her scent and searched out all of Rug's hiding places, then she would come to me confused with her head cocked questioningly. I wanted to slit my wrists. I comfort myself in the knowledge that she is now in Doggie heaven rolling around in a pile of milkbones and......wait, scratch that, I don't believe any of that bullshit. Would be handy right about now.

She made me laugh. Sometimes I think on purpose. She had as good a life a dog could ask for. I'll miss her.

Ohhhhh Oklahoma!!!!!.........

Those of you who are too young or are not gay and therefore have never seen any showtunes the title is a reference to a Broadway musical/showtune from the 50's. Why do I know it you ask? Ummmm.......let's move on.

I have to admit that I was less than enthusiastic when I was given the task of working in eastern Oklahoma for a week. I've driven through parts of Oklahoma before and frankly it was similar to staring at a wall except that I had a steering wheel. I was pleasantly surprised when I got to far east Oklahoma to learn that it is very different than western Oklahoma. 1) There are trees 2) It's not flat. It actually reminded me of pictures of New England in spots. I kid you not, rolling hills and trees everywhere.

The people are ummmm....similar. To each other that is. Their idea of religious and political diversity is the chasm between baptists who love Rush Limbaugh and Episcopalians who favor Hannity. They will tolerate Catholics but only for yard work. So after an early blunder in common speech that suggested that there might be people not necessarily destined for eternal hellfire living outside of Oklahoma I kept my mouth shut. My ears I kept open.

Here's a bit of trivia for you: You might think that being the creator of the universe might mean that you have what most would deem to be "important" or "substantial" issues that might occupy your day. Not the case. As it turns out, after God created light and earth and all living inhabitants of the known universe he then turned his attention to the more trivial aspects of Oklahoman life. If you're late for work, just drop the G-Man a line because he is waiting by the phone. Want your son's report card to go up a bit - doors always open. Don't like the rain - well why didn't you just say so? God sits around all day with nothing to do like handle the astro-physics of planetary orbit or prevent genocides - he wants to know exactly how you want the local school board election to go. I didn't know this until I went to Oklahoma and found out just how many things get prayed for. I felt bad when a prayer was offered to get me to my hotel safely. "Look, I don't want God manipulating traffic lights for me while a meteor slams into Greenland. Let's just leave his dance card open so he can do his job and I'll just buckle up." It's was a lovely gesture though.

Sooooooo how to approach this subject delicately? What rural Oklahoma gains in natural scenery it sort of gives back in "natural scenery". I'm not saying women in Oklahoma are ugly it's just that......actually that's exactly what I'm saying. Now I'm sure this is offensive to the genuinely attractive women in Oklahoma but look at the bright side - anywhere else you aren't that attractive so just appreciate your circumstances. To those of you saying "Hey Ryan, you're no Brad Pitt" I say you are correct. But put me in a muumuu, shave off the goatee and throw me in a '84 Buick and I'll get cat calls at an Oklahoma convenience store. No make-up.

The highlight of my trip was getting pulled over for doing 73 in a 70. Unlike Inspector Clouseau in Kansas this guy was genuinely a nice guy. We just chit chatted for about 10 minutes in his car. Police cars are pretty neat from the front seat. I just think he was bored.

All in all if you find yourself planning a road trip that cuts through southeast Oklahoma don't avoid it. Beautiful country. But if you are looking for conversation bring a tape recorder and conduct mock interviews with yourself in character. I'll pray for your batteries.

Why my family is FROM Kansas

Hello loyal readers - boredom has driven me to action. Sorry for the delay. Where to begin? Ah yes, Colorado. Flew into Denver and drove down to Colorado Springs. Thanks largely to an hour at the rental car counter that ended with "Give me anything with at least 3 wheels!" I had to make what I'm told is a very pretty drive in the dark. Irritated. Woke in Colorado Springs to two revelations. 1) There aren't many trees in Colorado Springs (wtf?) 2) Yahoo Weather is run either by washed up Grateful Dead roadies with a ouija board or someone with a sick sense of humor. So as I stood on my balcony wearing shorts and all 5 T shirts I brought willing myself not to shiver in 40 degree weather I admired the view. First of all, I really do like Colorado but to be honest I like the view in Arizona better. Anyhoo....after I got work done I realized "Wait a moment - this is a rental car!" So it was off to Pike's Peak. I'm sure there is a reason that Chevy Blazers aren't competitive in world rally racing but it's not from any lack of effort by me. I'm sure the view from the top of Pike's Peak is spectacular - couldn't tell you. All I could see were clouds. And at 14000 feet the hike from the car to the gift shop was a feat. As I walked in I enviously eyed the 90 yr old woman wheeling around her oxygen tank. Don't feel bad for her, she put up a hell of a fight. I don't even think she needed the tank. Half way down the mountain I went for a walk in the woods. Real woods, not the tree farm garbage we get in the "forests" in Arizona. Then I realized that after my knee injury of last year I really couldn't run from anything that wanted to eat me and my only weapon was an oxygen tank. Time to go.

On the way home I stopped at Cave of the Winds. Mainly because the last time I was there I was 4 and it's a kick to relive memories that old. Unfortunately the cave has shrunk drastically since I was 4. Dangerously so. As Captain Caveguide narrated our approach to the narrowest point in the tour, "Tall man's headache, Fat man's misery" his eyes settled on me as he got to the last syllable in "Misery". Fuck you spelunker boy! You better hope I get stuck cuz that's your head start! I made it - with centimeters to spare - and my anger had abated by the surface. Who knew that this would be the highlight of my week.

The next day I hit the road for Kansas. Where exactly you ask? Who cares - it's Kansas. Somewhere between "East Bum-Fuck Nowhere, Kansas" and "Slightly Less East Bum-Fuck Nowhere Kansas" I was pulled over by one of Kansas' finest. You can't help being nervous when you get pulled over. Thoughts race through your head like "Ok Ryan, get your shit together and relax and he'll have no reason to look for the kilo of coke in the trunk. If he does hit him with the oxygen tank, disable the camera and throw the body next to the coke and we make for Ole'Mexico!" Then you realize, "Wait a minute, I don't have any coke." According to Barney Fife he pulled me over because a trucker radioed him to say I looked "sleepy". Ummmmm......what? 8 hours sleep and 64 ounces of diet coke officer. Not sleepy. So he has me retrace my steps from the airplane to that spot about 3 times before he goes to run my information. 20 minutes I sit there freaking out. When he gets back I get to recount my trip another 3 times for him. "Didn't you say you flew into Colorado Springs?" "No, Denver - then I drove to Colorado Springs. Almost had me there Columbo." I should explain that it was 9/11. Can you blame him for thinking that I was an operative of the local sleeper cell of Scottish Muslims looking to strike terror in the heartland by driving a combine into the Dairy Queen? So eventually Ranger Rick let me go and it was off deeper into the Heart of Darkness.

One shining point in the whole Kansas experience that I have to point out. $125 in rural Kansas gets you a jacuzzi suite! I don't mean a tub with jets, I mean Stone-cold chillin, must find gorgeous twins with little to no comprehension of the US legal system to share this jacuzzi with me jacuzzi tub! 3 baths in 14 hours. I was pruny in places I didn't know I had skin. And then the next day it was back on the highway to scout locations for the combine Jihad. Allah Ackbar!!!

I won't drone on about the misery and boredom that flirted with desperation that made up the next few days. I'll just say this: If you somehow arrive hours early for an appointment in Kansas (like me) - GO BACK TO SLEEP! There is no alternative. Want to catch a movie - sorry wait till 4. Wanna have a beer - uh uh, try again. Drug yourself if necessary but just go back to sleep!

Honorable mention: It could be that I was in a good mood because I was about to fly away from Kansas but the last place I ate was a diner in Wichita and those ladies were a kick. I've never seen people have that much fun at work. Funny, relaxed, cool chicks. Don't get the wrong idea, they were ugly as sin so I wasn't influenced by impure thoughts. Just cool old broads. Thank you ladies for sending me on my way on an up-note.

Life Affirming Moments

As my last post mentioned I had a trip to Austin. Work-wise it was a stressful pain in the ass but this blog isn't about work and after 5'Oclock I'm off the clock. I usually do some work later anyway but the night is my own. Thursday was my last night in town and I told myself I was going out no matter what. 5th Street here I come! If you only have one night in Austin (or you pissed away the other 4) you have to go to Antone's. Stomping grounds for Stevie Ray Vaughn, Joplin, Muddy Waters - the joint has history dripping from the rafters. There was a show that night but didn't start until 8 (ish) so I had to kill time. Down 5th Street I wandered looking for a cool bar with music to chill. I had to walk 7 feet. Into the Lucky Lounge. Sort of a hip New York loft feel but no uptight pretense. The word "vibe" is often used and used badly but it really the best word to explain the difference between Austin and everywhere else - It has such a cool vibe. At the table next to me was a couple in their 50's or so having a great time. Standing to the right of me was a 20-something kid covered in tattoos having a great time. Behind me (thankfully) was a black man that looked like he could start on any NFL defensive line having a great time. All mixed, blended and squeezed into into a brick warehouse with lights and a stage. The only way to look out of place in Austin is to look miserable and/or rude. So it's past 8 and I trek back 7 feet to Antone's. Antone's is a stage and a bathroom. Speckled in between is a bar, a T-Shirt counter and a concrete floor. I tried to visualize Stevie Ray ripping it up RIGHT THERE on stage and couldn't fathom it.

"You mean he would just come in and play RIGHT THERE?"

"Ummm.....yes sir, that's what we use stages for here in Austin"

They had a point, I guess I just expected some kind of shrine but what better shrine to SRV can you have than a stage?

Act one: Big Frank Gonzales. The guy absolutely shredded! My jaw hit the floor. I have maybe a tenth the musical appreciation for guitarists that my brother does so I mercilessly texted him "YOU MUST BE HERE" and absorbed the well deserved "Pucker up Buttercup" texts that came back. People don't want to hear how much fun they could be having I've learned. Oh well, he got a T-Shirt. Everyone in there was there to have a good time. No one was there to be seen. Spontaneously couples between the ages of 25 and 65 would dance - and I did say couples, not the 55 year old former Eagles groupies trying to spot anyone in the bar who will still stare at their ass or 25 year old hippies that seem to just spin in circles trying to get the most out of their last tab of acid. Couples. And it was while watching one of these couples casually dancing the night away listening to great music surrounded by a hundred well-wishers that I had one of these moments you should try not to take for granted: "This is how the human condition should be." Drinking - not drunk, dancing - not dry humping on the floor, listening to music - not noises with lights. Any religious, political or any other thought process that disagrees with this is wrong. Note that I didn't say that they are different - I said they are wrong. Humans aren't meant to be miserable. They are made to sing and dance and laugh and then go back to work the next day. If you think your God disagrees then you think your God is an asshole. Your choice, but I don't want to be nearby when you tell him.

Deep thoughts from Texas - Yes That's Irony Folks...

This week my loyal readers (love ya mom!) get a special treat, a mid trip post. I'm all about the fans people. I am in Austin....as in Texas. It is interesting to me that the neighborhoods directly surrounding the Texas capital building are the least "Texas-like" in the state. Cool town. Pseudo hippies, laid back atmosphere, cultural variety (relatively speaking), music everywhere - fun town. Like everywhere else local knowledge is king. With a head full of local recommendations I headed to a hole in the wall Mexican joint I was told was the best Mexican food in the known universe - sorry, "Tex-Mex". So I roll in, partly literally with my rolling travel bag, and I'm immediately struck by the atmosphere. It was a converted feed store complete with wooden plank floors older than my entire state. Killer soundtrack - everything from John Lee Hooker to Soundgarden. Ryan is home. Service was insane (good). They moved a table over next to an outlet so I could plug in the laptop - I didn't even ask. Asked the waiter to bring me his favorite - a good habit. So as I caught up on work I watched the street traffic. Rednecks, 9 flavors of hippies, college students, Mexicans, Blacks, Purples, Greens, off-whites....I sorta lost track. Not your typical Texas fare. Great service, great music, great atmosphere - and then a thought occurred to me - "This taco tastes like Paris Hilton's ass after a 4 day coke binge". Oh, riiiiight, like I'm the only one who knows.

San Francisco - Expensive for a Reason

Hello kids

This weeks adventure lands our fearless globetrotter in beautiful San Francisco. What a town. Let's start with a little theme of mine: It's not 110 degrees in SF! Why do I live in an oven? Anywhoo... I reached an epiphany in SF while sitting in an incredible Italian restaurant being spoiled rotten by the owner watching seedy strip clubs across the street try to attract customers. This would never happen in Arizona - or almost anywhere. Do San Franciscans not care about their city? Quite the opposite. You won't find more protective citizens. So why do you see such extremes mixed together? Because they practice what so many others preach- "You do your thing and I'll do mine", "Live and let Live" - call it what you will. You have millions of people who are truly sold on the idea that the more flavor the better. You can't get more American than that. Here's a message for all of you midwest, tight-ass, closed borders, lilly-white, Christian or nuthin' mindless dolts: "KISS MY RED WHITE AND BLUE ASS!!!" California liberals are more American that you are - and so am I. Yeah, I said it.

Added to the spice of San Francisco culture I had a little company on my little escapade. Never underestimate the mood lightening power of the company of the fairer sex. Especially when she's much much fairer than you are. I'm working with personality here folks. I felt like Michael Jordan's 10 year old son trying to take the old man one on one at the family picnic. I could hear the women courtside saying, "Oh look, isn't that adorable, he's trying so hard." But like that 10 yr old I told myself "That old man doesn't stand a chance" and pulled out all the stops. Drove down the PCH to Monterey/Carmel. Holy sh*t beautiful! If you take a woman to 17 mile drive to watch otters play and nothing happens she was hoping to run into Rosie O'donnell in Carmel.

And how's this for timing - they ran the Concourse Rally right up the main drag in Carmel while we were there. So let us clarify: I was in 70 degree weather in August with a beautiful woman draped over me drinking free vodka tonics (beautiful women attract free drinks) watching near priceless cars raced by me as I overlooked perhaps the most beautiful bay in the world. How did you spend your Friday? The list of things I won't do to become disgustingly wealthy is getting frighteningly short. I'll be down to a post-it soon.

When in Rome....Cowboy up....errrr something

And so Ryan lands in Oklahoma City. Jealous? I know. In fairness, not a bad town. Airport was functional - with words and everything - unlike San Antonio. Nice people. Felt my drawl coming out inch by inch until I was about to throw in a "Yee-diggity" and caught myself. Earned hero status at a bar where (I kid you not) a patron was throwing change at every opportunity into the bartenders cleavage. I asked her, "Is this guy an owner?" She said, "He's been in here every day for 3 years." To which I said (loud enough that everyone could hear it) "So how does that make him less of an asshole?" This apparently was the magic statement that made him leave and gave me free drinks and back scratches (helloooooo Heaven) for the rest of the evening. I can't wait to try it somewhere else. If it works for you I expect royalties. The downtown area is a nice micro-version of San Antonio. Plenty to keep you busy. I even found a techno Euro-trash club that had the fortune of being nearby when I really had to find a bathroom. My sense of obligation meant that I had to endure the "Music" through a vodka tonic. I left it half full.

Honorable mention: In Oklahoma "Cafe" can mean strip club. And "Dance" can mean "treat me like a 9 year old Macaulay Culkin dipped in honey butter with a twisted ankle and dropped into the Vatican." Laws are sort of guidelines in Oklahoma gentleman's clubs. I didn't know whether to tip extra or press charges. I decided to go to Amarillo.

Off to Amarillo! Wind. Did I mention wind? And then there was wind. If the wind ever stopped in Amarillo every man, woman and child would simultaneously fall over and be rendered immobile having now idea how to walk without a lean. The first day I looked like a Nick Nolte mug shot. The next day I prepared with the hair gel helmet that snared low-flying birds now and then but was a reasonable trade off. And who can forget 10 Cadillacs buried face first in the dirt. To me this is a metaphor of the Texas political mindset. No matter how stylish you may be, if your head is buried in the dirt you never really know who is responsible for the limp you have in the morning. Quote for the Amarillo trip (at a movie theater waiting 30 minutes in line):

Me: "Do you think there any other ticket machines inside?"
Kindly patron: (dumbfounded look) "You aint from Amarillo are ya?"

And that sums it up.

And it was off to Santa Fe. I have no specific recollection of the drive. Nothing to recollect - except stopping in the dinosaur museum in Tucumcary to get pictures for my dinosaur fanatic nephew. I'm such a cool uncle. Anyhoo - Santa Fe is camouflaged. Like most camouflage it doesn't actually prevent you from seeing the object, it just irritates you because you cannot differentiate between objects. Like restaurants. Everything is tan and squared off!!!! Ok, I get it, there were Indians here and they had pueblos before you raped and murdered them and tossed in some smallpox for spice. I don't think a proper monument to the glory of the indigenous peoples is to make the Applebee's look like a truck stop where I can buy an "authentic" rug and a Slurpee. Here's another news flash: Coyotes are not and have never been aqua blue. They are scrawny looking dogs that chase prairie dogs - not wear bandannas and hold my door open. I know - I checked. And so the good news - it's 75 degrees in July and I'm from Phoenix. All is forgiven. I'll buy your ornately turquoise encrusted shoe horn if it means that I can stand here and not fear spontaneous combustion. Ahhhhhh cool wind. And the smell. Assuming there is no patchouli from hippies are walking by it actually smells of sweet mesquite. Not nearly enough is said of the smell of a place. To me it's important. New York smells like a floor mat in a 30 year old cab and I can never live there. The repression of one's gag reflex is for getting promotions - not for choking down a bagel in the morning.

Pain, thy Name is Suns Fan

http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/page2/story?page=simmons/070722

A fellow genius of the modern era, Bill Simmons can explain better than I. You'll never guess....I was right! Again!!! It's scary sometimes how often I'm right. NBA referees control the game. As in the outcome of the game. It is undeniable. Stern and his apologists will spend millions trying to downplay impact of officiating but any NBA fan knows the truth. The question that I have been screaming for 25 years is WHY? WHY? WHY?WHY?WHY?WHY? I apologize for the tantrum - it's been building a long time. I cannot fathom why is it allowed. Shaq does things that will get a man solitary confinement and loss of yard privileges in prison but it is not a foul. That is unless he misses the shot - then it's a foul on the other guy. Every NBA fan knows some things as certain as they know Oprah will put on 20 lbs after a diet

• A defensive foul is twice as likely to be called if the shooter misses
• An all star need only lunge in the direction of the basket and it's a foul (especially on home court)
• Home court means 10-15 points - and it's not the crowd
• There hasn't been a jump ball called by the rules in 40 years
• Lane violations are called every third eclipse or if the ref finds out their favorite hooker is a tranny (kind of funny when you know there was no eclipse)
• If a bad call is made a ref will never correct another ref but he will give you a call back within the next two minutes (unless the mob is involved apparently)

I could go on - but I need the hair I have left. WHYYYYYYY?????????? Deep breaths Ryan. I am just hoping that from this debacle a silver lining shall shine - NBA officiating will be put under a magnifying glass and they will be held to the same performance accountability standards as the players.......or the hot dog vendors for that matter. If you suck, you're out. The games (and hot dogs) will be better for it. And I will live longer.

Everything is (a) Bigger (pain in the ass) in Texas

In my business travels I found myself in "H-Town" as the locals call it. Humid-Town, Hell-Town, How-The-Hell-did-I-land-here-Town; who knows. The map says Houston. In case I've been too subtle I did not enjoy it. As I was taking a nap waiting for a red light to change I contemplated why. Waiting minutes on end (there is no rhyme or reason as to red/green in Houston much less timing) has one advantage - you are not moving roughly over an ENTIRE CITY made of grated concrete roads. Bush's "Plan" for Iraq made more sense after seeing Houston - there is no organization whatsoever. Driving takes you through various shades of ghetto pock-marked by oil buildings. God forbid you want to get out of your car - you can drive by 11 closed parking garages at 8'oclock at night before you find a dirt lot 200 yards from the restaurant you're hoping has anything edible, as you've been driving for 2 hours and are 5 miles from your hotel, just to be greeted by the friendly neighborhood Armenian extortionist. $8 (negotiated) for parking later you have to run the vagrant gauntlet where 17 perfect healthy adults tell you to give them a dollar. It is best that you don't because you are about to pay $14 for a vodka tonic. This won't bother you too much because there is a suprisingly good jazz trio. You assume they have family held at gunpoint nearby to get them to live here but the guilt fades quickly. Back through the gauntlet and back onto a freeway with a 45 mph speed limit, which is all the suspension of your car can handle on warped concrete anyway, through a few neighborhoods resembling Beirut with pawn shops and you find yourself back at the hotel......where you are paying $6 to park. The upside of the $6 parking is that since you are one of 8 guests in the hotel you can have almost any space you want. I comforted myself with this knowledge as I woke from my nap, groggily looked up to see the light still red and went back to sleep.

Terror: No One Understands it and Bush Can't Pronounce it

Ok, I warned you I might irritate you. Let's talk about "Terrrrrrrr" (Bush-speak). "Terrorism" - Perhaps the most miss-used miss-interpreted term since "amicable divorce". Stop kidding yourself - a "Terrorist" is a very specific person. They are an adversary facing a far superior enemy that cannot face said enemy on the battlefield so they choose the coward's path and seek to cause the most impact they can by striking not the strength of an enemy militarily but it's weakness - it's civilians. If they cannot cause military loss they can at best cause fear. It is the tragic real world equivalent of a high school football team that loses the big game but slashes the tires of the other team's bus before they leave. Now I admit that this isn't a simple 6 word definition that is black and white but let's cut the crap - you get it - you understand what a terrorist is. It's not a difficult concept to grasp. The reason I drive this point home is to stop everyone throwing around the term. Listen close: "Terrorist" doesn't mean BAD GUY. Even if you find an entire country full of people who look and sound like the bad guys you are looking for that doesn't make them "terrorists". We didn't attack Korea after Pearl Harbor. To use a broad moral brush labeled "terrorist" to paint any corner of the earth in which we want to remove ethical accountability from ourselves is intellectually and morally lazy. A practice of convenience used to subdue our conscience as we, the military mighty, lumber through the innocent masses as a belligerent dim-witted giant with "Right" on our side. My two cents.....

A Road Trip Through the Midwest - or A Waste of an Expense Account

As mentioned before I travel a lot. I don't have much to say about where I go unfortunately. So last weeks adventure was a leisurely jaunt from Omaha - deeper into Nebraska - up to South Dakota and eventually back to Omaha, or as I like to call it "Thank God for civilization" Nebraska. I have always hated snobs so you can imagine my discomfort when faced with the brutal reality that I am one. Nebraska has it's good points. It's green for starters, and for someone who grew up in a blast furnace (with swimming pools) I can appreciate that. It's centrally located - handy if you need to fly the the east or west coast often and also gives you the ability to flee in any direction.

Day one - Omaha: Holy sh*t baseball! Ok, the College World Series is in Omaha. I GET IT! Can I just buy some hair gel without talking about baseball please. And it's not like I'm a communist, I like baseball. So I fled (right past the stadium) to Council Bluffs to check out the "Casino". Can't go wrong at a Harrah's right? Not the case. A "Casino" in Council Bluffs is a cross between the waiting room at the MVD and a bingo parlor. No poker room! What's a casino without poker? Unless you feel like plunking quarters into the idiot machines there's not a lot to do (a theme for the week). So I figured I'd at least get some free drinks so I went to the bar to play video poker - problem being they charge you for drinks anyway! Are you kidding me? So a $23 beer (why do I play video poker?) later I left. Lesson learned.

Day two - Columbus, Ne: 2 hour drive with the only stop being a "convenience" store. I was given the evil eye when I pointed out that waiting 5 minutes for someone to get to the register was other than convenient. When I asked for the nearest fast food joint I started something of a debate among the locals who couldn't decide which of the two thriving metropolises big enough to support a Jack in the Box was closer. I left them to their debate as no breakfast Jack is worth a 45 mile round trip.

Day Three - Mitchell, SD: It was with a heavy heart that I left Nebraska. Upon settling into Mitchell I asked the locals what the nicest restaurant in town was. The votes split between Ruby Tuesday's and the local Chinese buffet. In fairness I did stumble onto a decent steakhouse but this leaves me questioning the culinary wisdom of locals.

Day four - Up to Huron and back down to Mitchell. Who can take in all the delights of Mitchell in one day after all. Found another steakhouse. Excellent service, excellent rolls - found a way to screw up surf and turf. Did not know that was possible. Stolly and tonic to the rescue. Glad it wasn't my money.

Day five - Sioux Falls: Well it's no Mitchell but lets be fair. I do dig the old buildings since everything in Arizona anything over 80 years is declared a historic site. Had a slight personality conflict with three gregarious Indians - sorry, Native Americans. Apparently "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you" is Sioux Falls speak for "I bet I can take all three of you so let's take it outside". Luckily for my fragile facial structure the restaurant staff was paying attention and escorted the gentlemen to the sidewalk before I had to go into my patented fetal position defense technique. I call it "The crying turtle".

Honorable mention - Sioux City: Don't ask me what's there other than a charming young bartender named Mickey who restored my faith in Indians - dammit, I meant Native Americans.

And back to Omaha. Hey, more baseball. In truth I'm just bitter because ASU choked - again. Being in Arizona sports fan is like being a French military fan. I'm sure they exist. And I'd pay money to see them try to throw a curve ball.

Punchline - I still managed to have a good time. I have fun travelling anywhere, especially if I fly first class. And meeting people is a riot. In Mitchell I was complimented on my teeth. This was a first. I can only surmise that the best part about my teeth is that they are all still in my head. That, in a nutshell, was South Dakota.

All the cool kids are doing it!

The innaugural post. I'm so excited! I feel great things coming on....of course I'm hardly an impartial observer. I will try to give this blog the most range possible. Some posts may make you angry (often at me). Some posts may make you laugh (often at me). Most will make you wonder whether the first amendment might need to be fine-tuned a bit. I travel (involuntarily) a lot so I will try to give reports on some of the lesser-desired vacation spots of this great country of ours. I have a licensing exam to take in about 5 hours so I have to go hang out in the real world for a bit. Sucks. More to come......