Progress!

Tater Tots remaining: 4.5 pounds.

I know, I know. A pound and a half of tater tots in one day? Sally lent her assistance, but lest you think her a pig, I really did do the bulk of the work.

You know, I wish I were a braver person. I really do. If I were, I could talk at length about nose hair clippers.

But I'm afraid I've already said too much.

That sound you hear is my precious 12-18 year old demographic recoiling in horror. When I check back later today, I'm sure that I'll have maybe three or four people listing me as a favorite. And all because I revealed that I'm an actual human.

Hey, just for the record: My ears are OK. And my back. And, luckily, I don't have to shave my nipples.

At least I don't think so.

OK, now that I've ensured that I will no longer be an object of anyone's filthy internet lust, let's get you caught up to speed on the doin's a transpirin' whereas my cross country drive to Los Angeles is concerned. Unfortunately, it doesn't look like renting a car and driving is all that feasible. Here's why:

($300 car rental) +($391 one way "car drop off fee") + ($300 or more for gas, food, lodging) = I might as well go ahead and rent a U-Haul truck.

Can you believe that car drop off fee? I mean, I understand it, as they need to get the car back to the original store somehow, but good lord. In almost every case, the drop off fee is more expensive than the rental itself.

Shitty.

However! An alternative driving plan is in the works. I may team up with some people. You will be provided details as developments warrant, but, come Monday, if nothing is definite, then it's a one way ticket and inflatable air mattress for me.

How very boheme.

Beh.

Oh, remind me to lead a discussion one of these days on the definition of the Consumer. The other night, AnnFrank and I discussed the various facets of Consumer Behavior. She correctly observed that a consumer might be one who records QVC when they go to sleep at night.

Well done, Dr. Frank. I also had a chance to observe some Consumerism when I went to Osco last night. It turns out that Consumers are disproportionately excited about the new 'pop refrigerator box.'

We will discuss this further, I assure you.

And now, because it came up last night, here is an Anecdote From Days Past:

In the Fall of 2000, Sally and I went to London. I attempted to document the entire trip here in FadeIn, but succeeded in writing only these two entries. Then, laziness took over.

Anyway, we were really excited about the trip, and we researched it thoroughly. We decided that we would like to "take tea" at one of the fanciest hotels in London, the Savoy. I stuffed my suit into my luggage for the sole purpose of the tea, so you know we were taking this part of the trip very seriously, and greatly looking forward to it.

We read all about what a good English tea time entails. We learned that we were in for tasty scones, finger sandwiches, and delectable Savoy truffles. Taking tea, we would learn, was an incredibly expensive experience, but so very worth it.

Resplendent in our finery, we took a cab from our bed & breakfast to the Savoy. It was utterly glamorous from the moment our cab pulled into the car park. Stepping out of the cab and into the outdoor area outside the lobby, I looked around. Out here, there was dark, castle-like masonry. Looking in through the windows, I saw deep cherry wood, colorful yet muted carpets, and a warm glow coming off the lobby chandeliers. Fantastic. It was raining and grey in London that day, which only added to the atmosphere.

Sally and I had actually been arguing that day. About what, I'll never remember. Once we were inside the lobby, and made sure the tea room knew we were there, we talked it out and settled it. We had to. There was no way we were going to go in for this experience with anything like that between us. One of the very best things about the two of us is that we never let anything fester. If there was a problem, we confronted it, talked it out, and moved on.

Good stuff if you can get it.

So, the tea's the thing: We go back to the host, and gain entrance into the tea room itself. It is beautiful. The room is flanked by large marble columns, artwork, and adorned with plush furniture. Palace like, really. They take us to a table near the center of the room. A piano player is nearby, on a platorm, playing softly. Our server approaches. She is amazingly gorgeous, and we soon notice that all of the employees are extremely attractive humans.

She asks whether we'd like coffee or tea. We want tea, of course. She asks what kind of tea we would like.

"Um..." I fumble. "What kind of tea is there?"

"Well, there's the Savoy blend, Earl Grey, Chamomille..." she goes on, naming about a dozen different types of tea.

I reply "I don't know. Whatever you guys normally serve. The house tea."

Off she goes. Sally and I bask in the fanciness of it all. Unfortunately, we feel as if we are basking in the proximity of the piano player just a but too much. We decide that we are sitting too close, very much too close to the piano player. We decide this just as we notice that he is playing the 'Titanic' theme, of which we heartily disapprove.

This simply won't do.

We flag down our server, and explain that we'd like to be moved. Preferrably to something in the corner, away from Mr. Dion (although we didn't cite the piano as a reason, if I recall). Preferrably to those cushy looking high backed chairs over there.

Of course you can be moved (Mr. and Mrs. pain in the arse). It is no problem (you bloody Americans). Right this way (you yank bastards).

So, we get the seating we want, and we are happy. Our new server approaches. Another superhuman. He looks as if, when he was born, God himself said "You! You will be the Perfect One!"

"Coffee or Tea?"

Again, we choose tea.

"What kind of tea would you like?"

And here it is. Remembering the tea options from the other server, and unwilling to again go through the awkwardness of not knowing what the hell I was doing, I speak. As smooth as anything alive, as if I had been coming to the Savoy all my life, as if my ancestors had invented the very concept of high tea, I say:

"The Savoy blend, please."

But, of course.

Ultra confidence masquerading as savoir faire is my personal specialty.

Oh, and damn. It seemed like a natural.