Phone's for you...

and it's Fabio. Not the muscleman stud muffin who graced many romance novel and video game covers; who "wrote" his own line of bodice-shredders; who whispered the virtues of I Can't Believe It's Not Butter...Spray; and recorded the amazing spoken word album After Dark? Yes, the very same Fabio.

He called me today. Well, my husband actually, but I got to touch the phone during the call.

Why did Fabio call Mr. Ameliabee? Because I asked him to. And you can ask him too, on the Fabio Fone website.

In what appears to be some sort of promotion for I Can't Believe It's Not Butter, Fabio will call you with a pre-recorded message. Using your name and other information you supply, he'll chat with you and end by plugging for a vacation contest, which is also somehow linked to my disbelief that this tub of shortening could possibly not be in point of fact, butter.

Each section is accompanied by a short video of Fabio, explaining what to do. While the video is downloading, Fabio is looking heavenward with eyes mostly closed, in a pose that I imagine is supposed to appear somehow thoughtful and sexy. But since he is sitting astride a stool, it mostly looks like he has to go to the bathroom.

Come one, you know you want to.

A phone call is just a click away.

One click, and then....FABIO!

Blogger is hungry...

It seems that Blogger has eaten a few of my posts. Or, and more likely, I did something to make them disappear.

Either way, if your favorite post, the one you want to read over and over and over is suddenly missing and you just can't live without it, let me know and I can email it to you.

Since we all know that my blog is a mainstay in any intellectual household.

Especially that last post about the bathroom. I truly am a member of the cultural elite...

Meeting in the Ladies Room

Do you remember that song? I got a meeting in the ladies room, I'll be back real soon.... It was by Klymaxx, the only all-girl funk band.

Apparently, there is quite a bit of a turf war going on in Klymaxx-land. There are two camps--the "original members" camp which is exactly what it sounds like, the original band members, and the "new Klymaxx" camp, which is led by one member of the original group and several much younger women. Quite intersesting. My favorite Klymaxx song was "The Men All Pause." Dang. Reminds me of my cocktail waitress days at the Cadillac Club. *sigh* So young, so young.

Anyway. About my new meeting in the ladies room, which occured at Kroger this evening.

If you've ever had to take a car trip of more than 2 blocks with me, you know that Ameliabee must visit the restroom on a fairly frequent basis. By fairly frequent I mean every 20 minutes or so. This has helped me develop what may be my greatest superpower--an encyclopedic knowledge of every decent public restroom in the state of Ohio and most of Central and Southern Wisconsin. I know exactly how many miles it between rest areas on I-71 North between Columbus and Cleveland. (for the record--starting with the rest area about 8 miles out of Columbus, 48 miles, 20 miles, and 26 miles) I can tell you every decent place to stop between the Wisconsin State Line and Columbus, OH. I also know which grocery, convenience, book and and shoe stores have passable public restrooms, and which don't have public restrooms, but will let you go in the employee restroom if you look really desparate. A very valuable super power indeed.

So, my superpower told me that the Great Big Giant Kroger (home of the horrible marketing photos) has very nice restrooms, and my wee tiny bladder told me it was time to pay a visit. I was happily taking care of business, when I heard the door open and another shopper enter. No problem--there are three other stalls, none of which are occupied.

As I sat, finishing up the rounds as it were, the new visitor approached the only closed door, mine, and pushed on it. Ooops! I thought. Now she'll go into another stall. But Houston, we had a problem. Apparently, I was in the Sacred Stall. The Only One. The Best One. Or something. She did not go into another stall, but pushed again at my door. Then, seeing as things were not giving way, she put her hand over the top and shook the door.

I decided she just didn't know I was inside, and so proceeded to loudly spin the toilet paper roll. Listening to the metallic whir echoing off the tiles, I was sure she'd realize her error and move along.

Nope.

Undeterred, she grabbed and shook the door again. I was starting to get a little nervous...and so I squeaked out in a jolly tone, "Sorry! I'll just be another second!" This seemed to get the point across for about 3 seconds then...Shake, Shake, Shake. Bang, Bang, Bang, BANG! I was completely done and ready to come out at this point, but frankly I was scared. I said "HEY! I'm IN here!" as loudly as I could muster, and gave the door a little kick to drive the point home.

Seconds ticked by, as the Bathroom Marauder processed this new bit of intelligence. "Hello?" she yelled. "Hello?" She gave the door a half-hearted shake, turned around and left the bathroom.

She didn't try to use one of the other stalls, she just left. As the door swung open, the blessed clatter of carts and the automated voice of the Self-Checkouts floated in. I was still a little scared that She Who Waits Outside the Stalls was lurking around the corner, waiting to flush me, but Mr. Ameliabee was waiting (as he often is, poor guy) so I plucked up my courage and opened the door. I was all alone in the restroom again.

Stuck in a rut

The promised snowstorm has materialized, and even got its own special 1 hour new show every morning. Toto, we're not in Wisconsin anymore...

High point of the day? I made a car trip without getting stuck in the snow and having to push my car. First time since Tuesday morning!

The major streets and highways are completely plowed and clear of snow and ice. The residential streets, particularly the dinky ones like ours are a different story. I figure they'll plow when they get around to it, but apparently people are jamming the phone lines at City Hall to report that their street has snow on it.

"Mr. Mayor, are you sitting down? Good, because what I have to tell you might be shocking. As you know, we've had a Level 2 snow emergency for the past two days, and road crews have been working round the clock since Monday night to clear the major streets. Right. You will be shocked to learn that my cul-de-sac in a residential development which sees less traffic than an Arby's drive-through has not been plowed. Yes, I know it is indeed shocking. Oh, and I want you to lower my taxes. What do they even pay for, anyway?"

Hear the snow crunch...

I don't know if kids are bunching, but the snow is certainly crunching, and falling steadily.

This storm is supposed to drop about 4-8 inches on Cowtown, as well as a lot of freezing rain and ice. I don't mind snow at all, but the freezing rain I could do without. That is something I really forgot about whilst living in Wisconsin for 7 years--it doesn't snow much here compared to WI, but there is a lot of icy weather. Bleah.

We've been seeing the Winter Storm Warnings on TV since Sunday afternoon--and panic has duly ensued. At the grocery store this afternoon, you'd have thought the dates for the apocalypse had been announced. People were running, and shoving, and grabbing for loaves of bread, containers of milk and snow shovels. I'm guessing when they got home they were breaking up the dining room set for kindling and making flow charts about who gets eaten first when the food supplies run out.

Yeesh. 4-8 inches of snow. Maximum 14 inches. This isn't upstate New York, people.

Big Wheel Keep on Turning

I came across this wonderful feat of engineering while starting out to search for the lyrics to a Ben Kweller song. Do not ask me how this happens, it is the magic of the internet.

At any rate. This is the amazing Falkirk Wheel in Scotland. It connects two canals which once were connected by a series of 11 locks, which had fallen into disuse and been filled over. The top one has been slightly re-routed to run along an aqueduct, and boats are lifted into it by the big wheel. You heard me, lifted.

Here is a nifty time-lapse video showing the wheel in action:

Among the cooler things about the wheel, is that it only uses about 1.5 Kwh of power during each 4 minute trip, which isn't much, considering. The dedication and opening had to be delayed because vandals forced open the bolted upper locks, allowing millions of gallons of water to cascade over the structure and hillside, causing over $600,000 worth of damage. As someone who engaged in a little relatively harmless vandalism in my younger days, I can't conceive of the sort of malice that would do such a thing. We stole driveway reflectors and painted on the abandoned covered bridge--both of which certainly were wrong, but neither of which cost hundreds of thousands of dollars to repair.

Vandals aside, I am completely in awe of this marvel. If ever I am in Scotland, I will make certain to see this terrific contraption.

Four things about me...

I have been tagged by the incomparable Ms. KT, so here goes!

FOUR THINGS YOU MAY NOT KNOW ABOUT ME: (or maybe you do???)

Four jobs I have had in my life (only four? I have Sooo many to choose from!):
1. Car Hop at a Drive in Restaurant
2. Bra fitter
3. Christian telemarketing
4. Admin assistant

Four Movies I would watch over and over:
1. Strange Brew (Take off, eh)
2. Mitchell (MST3K version)
3. Mystic Pizza
4. The Big Lebowski

Four places I have lived:
1. Columbus, OH
2. Madison, WI
3. Chestertown, MD
4. Canton, OH

Four TV shows I like to watch:
1. America's Test Kitchen
2. The Simpsons
3. CSI
4. Forensic Files (but we don't have cable, boo)

List four places I have been on vacation(outside of the continental US):
1. Niagara Falls, Canada on my honeymoon
2. Sadly, that is it.

Four of my favorite foods:
1. Quorn patties
2. Kraft macaroni and cheese
3. Potato Chips with Blue Bunny Onion Dip
4. Ice cream (although Mr Ameliabee says this list is a Lie if it doesn't include pizza.)

Four places I would rather be right now:
1. on the Satellite of Love with Tom, Crow and Mike
2. reading in bed
3. someplace that has a housekeeper and cook
4. in Chris Isaak's underpants

So, there you have it. Ameliabee in four easy payments of only $19.95!
Er...I mean four easy questions.

Barrel Fever, by David Sedaris

I listen to NPR sometimes, and therefore I have heard of David Sedaris. I’ve heard some of his funnier commentaries, and many have told me his writing is funny, hysterical even.

So, I was excited to have been given Barrel Fever a collection of short stories and non-fiction by Mr. Sedaris for Christmas. Since I really like short stories, non fiction and humor, seemed like a shoe-in.

It wasn’t a shoe-in. Some of the non-fiction really caught my attention and tickled the funnybone—The SantaLand Diaries, which is validation for anyone who has ever worked in a department store—but most of it seemed kind of, well…bitter. Working as an apartment cleaner, he almost burns someone’s apartment down because he is slacking in front of the TV when he is being paid to work. I know that this last sentence makes me sound like I’m 125 years old and grouchy, but really—if you are being paid to work, work. Detailing how you almost burned a house down instead of working just doesn’t strike me as funny, or irreverent, just kind of irresponsible. But again, this is possibly me being old and grouchy. Most likely just me.

The fiction was okay to a point. The basic ideas of the stories were interesting, and most were about gay men which was an interesting change-up for straight midwestern broad like me. But I think Sedaris could have used a good editor—there are several places where the same descriptive phrase is used only paragraphs apart (and not for effect) and there are some bits of story that could have been edited out altogether. That’s the thing with short stories—they are short, you don’t have much room to work, so each image, each word has to count. Also, in After Malison the story I liked least, he takes a crack at Flannery O’Connor. Now, this isn’t the reason I liked this story the least, it seemed unfocused and was too obviously trying to hard to get at something, but it certainly didn’t help. I do see that Sedaris was playing with the O’Connor setup of smug self-satisfaction, then terrible consequences, which lead to a moment of grace and salvation--but I couldn’t see the grace in this story, only an empty thud as a sense of self is shoved out of the way by disappointment and humiliation. Give me Davy Rothbart’s fiction any day.

Several of the stories were interesting and bordering on bittersweet, if that isn’t too cliché to use. “We Get Along” was my favorite. A kind of tender story about a kid trying to grow up and into his mother’s sadness, while carving out tiny childish revenges against his Aunt. The title story was also interesting if a little too broad for a short story. Several I just either didn’t get, or didn’t like—Glen’s Homophobia Newsletter, Don’s Story and Music for Lovers just weren’t my cup of tea.

While not a shoe-in, Barrel Fever was enjoyable and poignant by turns, especially The SantaLand Diaries, and We Get Along, both of which I heartily recommend.