WonderBlog

This is a story I did for the Highland Park News.

Colorado Boulevard has the spot for good food, friendly smiles and amazing entertainment. Colombo’s bar and restaurant, open 7 days a week, has been around since 1954. It has become an Eagle Rock institution. Regular Mary Duffy-Petersen says, “It’s almost like a party every Friday night.” Autumn Hays, who works in Glendale, comes in with her co-workers for lunch several times a week. She says her favorite night is Monday. There is a lot of excitement about coming in to Colombo’s any time.

It is true; Colombo’s has great food. The original owner Sam Colombo is the one who developed their hand-rolled lasagna recipe, along with the other Sicilian-inspired Italian dishes. Chef Raul Villasenor has been serving the people’s favorites for 16 years. But Colombo’s is more than just food.

When entering the restaurant, the smoky-mirrored walls and romantic gold-framed paintings on the wall invite pleasant relaxation. The red overstuffed upholstery and crisp white tablecloths bring to mind the glamour of Hollywood. Pretty beaded lamps light the booths, and management makes sure to put fresh flowers on every table.

The evenings are filled with music—jazz music. Every night features a talented line-up. As manager Vic Parrino said, “One of the things we are trying to offer is entertainment that you don’t have to pay for. We don’t have a cover…We hope people will be willing to drive a little farther than they would otherwise just for dinner.”

They have live music every night of the week. On Thursdays, the Fiaumara Armbrewster Quartet takes the floor. Friday and Saturday nights Linda Lopez tickles the ivories. Eric Exstrand’s trio plays Sunday and Monday, and Wednesday is the performer wildcard, featuring various local talent.

Customers love to hear the band play, and often join right in. Linda Lopez has a steady stream of vocalists coming to the mike stand at the piano. Eric Exstrand leads his band in a jam session, with all kinds of drop-in musicians joining. As one patron said: “You don’t have to be a great singer. You don’t even have to be a good singer. Everybody’s part of the party at Colombo’s.”

For those who might not be swept away into the music, or those who just want a place to talk and laugh with friends, the bar has a lot to offer. Separate from the dining area, it is a place to belly up and socialize. Tony the bartender is generous with the liquor; he makes a mean key lime martini. The TV at the end plays sports, and the painting of a lounging female nude behind the bar reminds everyone to get flirty.

Mrs. Ann Colombo still comes to the restaurant every day. When her husband Sam passed on about 5 years ago, nephew Vic Parrino took over the business. He is proud to be part of it: “It’s a tradition my aunt and uncle worked very hard to establish. There aren’t a lot of family owned businesses.” His pride is evident in the way things are done.

When Vic came to Colombo’s he brought Yolanda Nagueira in to assist. She is the one who started the entertainment line up. She made a lot of nice touches to the décor, and her friendly smile really lights up the place. More than one person can tell how Vic and Yolanda have done great things at Colombo’s.

Colombo’s is located at 1833 Colorado Boulevard in Eagle Rock. They are open 7 days a week. Monday through Friday, they are open from 11 a.m. to 11 p.m. On Saturdays, they open at noon and close at 11 p.m., and Sundays they are open from 2 p.m. to 10 p.m.

Posted by Murphy Horner at 09:14 PM | Permalink

Hyperbole:
"A figure of speech in which exaggeration is used for emphasis or effect, as in I could sleep for a year or This book weighs a ton.
"

I finally figured out what's wrong with L.A.

I've been here six months, and I've been having a little trouble making friends. I have gone out and systematically met with people. I take advantage of the opportunities that are out there.

But somehow, it's been falling flat. A lot of people don't really want to get together again, and I'm not that disappointed.

I haven't really met anyone that I made a connection with.

I went swing dancing a few weeks ago for the first time at a place called the Derby. I was worried about going alone, I thought people wouldn't be friendly.

I couldn't have been more wrong! Lots of people were there, lots of nice men asked me to dance. Some people even sat and talked with me.

But I came away feeling a little flat. At the time I was thinking, "L.A. boys are too nice."

Boy that is not something I would imagine myself thinking. I'm not the "bad boy" type. I really enjoy respectful, intelligent well-dressed men.

Something was wrong.

My brother Chris came to visit me yesterday. He just got back from a world tour of Orthodox monasteries.

I was really worried that our conversation would be really heavy.

I did not want to spend the evening being very serious.

So I made a point of poking fun. There is a hell of a lot that is funny about monasteries, once you stop and look at it.

And my brother has a great sense of humor! There were times when I had him cracking up. And he made me laugh, too.

I woke up this morning, and I figured it out.

NO ONE IN L.A. HAS A SENSE OF HUMOR.

That's the "too nice" I've been running up against.

I love to laugh and make fun of things. The aforementioned "Hyperbole" is one of my favorites...To exaggerate something to show how ridiculous it is..I toss those little hyperboles off all the time.

And I've been met with blank stares and nods.

"No! It's funny! I didn't mean it literally!"

You can't explain a joke. Everyone knows that. I couldn't defend myself.

Things that are bust-my-gut funny are taken totally seriously by everyone I've met.

It's starting to make me feel like a crazy person. Stupid little jokes at work, like "Boy, this coffee is so strong I think it just walked out the room and asked the boss for a promotion" don't even illicit a groan or an eye-roll.

When you say outrageous things, and laugh uproariously ALONE, you look imbalanced.

But I suppose it's not a surprise. Being funny is a career in Los Angeles.

Anyone that can crack a half-funny joke is locked in some dungeon somewhere churning out one-liners for That 70s Show or The Simpsons

All we are left with here in the main populace are incredibly earnest and serious peace activists, vegan animal rights people, weight lifters, motivational coaches, yoga instructors and failed actors.

Anyone that wants to laugh has to watch reruns.

Posted by Murphy Horner at 10:18 AM | Permalink

I have a job, and I am pleased that I have a job.

But there are times in any job that are less than pleasant. Times when you are faced on all sides with a Catch 22.

So today, I had a lot of those.

But the thing that took the cake...My Own Personal Point of Pride...Yesterday, a local deity asked me to write some instructions.

I lay aside the fact that to create these instructions is to create and distribute a sharp pointy stick than is meant for poking me.

It had to be done, and I understood why. A global deity needed appeasement, and it took this sharp pointy stick distribution plan.

Fine.

BUT! When I carefully WROTE the instructions, the local deity carefully took the beautiful succinct clear phrases and instructions and made them longer, more confusing and ugly...hoh..

it is one thing to write something badly, and never get around to finishing making the writing better.

I do that practically every day on this blog.

but to take pretty, crafted words and MAKE THEM WORSE ON PURPOSE!

it wounds me.

It wounds me more that I must send them out as if they were my own. It's like wearing a sign that says "i'm stoopid"

SIGH

In desperation, I was avoiding the situation. I was surfing.

I found this letter.

I think it's a very beautiful thought. Beautiful thoughts are good. And I wanted to share it.

Posted by Murphy Horner at 04:07 PM | Permalink

Got this DVD out of the library recently. It's on the AFI list of recommended movies.

I'm not a fan of Westerns. They are such GUY movies. Usually there is no woman in the movie that acts in any way resembling what I might do.
Or even what any female I know might do.

But I thought I would give it a try.

I am pleased to say that this Western was not that kind of movie. There are some kick-ass females in it!

One, played by Grace Kelly, was a really strong female. She was the sugar one, but she had some real backbone.

You know the kind of woman in a movie who just can't seem to do ANYTHING? During the fight scene, her hero will get his gun kicked away from him, and it will land right at the woman's feet.

AND SHE WILL JUST STARE AT IT!

Stupid female.

But this chicky was not like that. She had some strong convictions. She did stuff. She even grabs the gun at the end.

The other female was the spice. She was actress Katy Jurado, and a latina. BEAUTIFUL, and in total control. She is the one I would want to be, much as I admired Little Bo-Peep Grace Kelly. She had everybody in the palm of her hand, doing what she had to do, and doing it better than anybody else.

The story was good, very suspenseful. I like that the story hinged on the relationships between the characters.

I might even buy this one!

Posted by Murphy Horner at 10:48 AM | Permalink

This morning I was cranky.

And for no good reason.

It was the kind of mood where I would think, "I wish I were listening to my favorite CD right now."

Then I would realize that I already was.

Sometimes I drive myself crazy.

Posted by Murphy Horner at 04:11 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

This COULD be giving fuel to the argument that he's forgotten more than I ever knew.

But my brother once spent a good hour, explaining to me that raw sugar was in need of enhancement in order to reach it's taste potential. His examples were that while things like cotton candy and rock candy were good, the sugar was barely altered and therefore not reaching it's highest taste potential.

But CHOCOLATE was more substantially enhanced and therefore the sugar could achieve the a higher level of deliciousness.

Now, he claims it was my theory all along.

I just don't suffer from early senility, and I reMEMber this conversation.

As I recall, it took place in 1993, and was the first dialogue of the Candy Traditions.

The results of which will be published here at a later date.

Unless Bryan beats me to it.

Posted by Murphy Horner at 09:45 AM | Permalink

BlogCritics took a vote, and came up with a bunch of music awards.

My vote didn't win, but still it's worth a look. A lot of good albums did.

BlogCritics Music Awards

Posted by Murphy Horner at 12:10 PM | Permalink

My wonderfully intelligent book club voted on this book for February. I'd read a lot of Oscar Wilde, but not this one.

As far as I know, it's his only novel.

It had all kinds of interesting philosophical propositions in it. Like, what is the value of physical beauty when compared to beauty of the soul?
And, how much of our motivation to do the right things stems from whether we will be caught?

But one of the things that made this book delightful to read was the razor wit of Oscar Wilde.

Those late Victorians were just fabulous at turning a phrase on a pin. Gilbert & Sullivan spring to mind.

So wicked and most of the time, so true!

The book was a lot of fun, but it was weighty too. It was a good book to have a discussion about.

Posted by Murphy Horner at 09:26 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

She started it. But I only know about her because he was all twitterpated. And I only know him because I'm all twitterpated...

Nonetheless, I have a contribution to the list...

"Make Jokes Not War"

With a graphic of a person pointing and laughing hilariously at some deadpan military types.

Posted by Murphy Horner at 12:04 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

I was supposed to meet someone at the Barnes and Noble in Pasadena. He didn't show.

I didn't really expect him to.

But I didn't want to miss a chance of checking out a new book store. And the meeting supplied a justification for the 6 dollars I had to fork out for parking.

In the bargain bin, for ONE dollar, I found a hardback of Molly Peacock's Paradise, Piece by Piece.

I'd never heard of her before, but the back of the book said, "By exploring her choice not to have children, Molly Peacock discovers what has made her herself."

That seemed worth a buck.

As it turns out, Molly Peacock is a poet of sonnets, and someone I should perhaps be aware of, since I aspire to be a literature snob.

Well, the book is supposed to be about her choice not to have children.

She's from an earlier time than I; to me the choice not to have children does not seem so amazing. This is due in a large part to the battle that 60s and later feminists did to change American culture. Women now are not defined entirely by the female capacity of hatching eggs and lactating.

Not so much anyway.

So for me, the thrust and thread of the stories was how Molly learned to deal with others' expectations for her.

Her mother expected things from her.
Her father expected things.
Her sister expected.

Her lovers, her husbands, her employers and her students expected things.
Random strangers expected things.

But she also expected things from herself.
She had to learn to listen to herself and screen out other people.

It's a very hard thing to do, to choose and shape your own destiny. Deciding on the shape of your life, what you will and won't do, based fundamentally on your own desires and needs takes courage. It is not accomplished in one moment.

I like how she continues to revisit her choices and decisions--sometimes because others challenge her, but sometimes because she herself is completely unsure of what she's doing.

I relate to that.

The books is on sale on Amazon, too. It's definitely worth it.
Good bathtub reading.

Posted by Murphy Horner at 09:40 PM | Permalink

I have been quite disciplined this evening.

I ate a healthy dinner. avoiding my usual dive for the snack food upon coming home.

I made a new recipe involving Eggplant, a frypan, and practically no fat.

I ran on the treadmill for 20 minutes.

I then sat down with my files and papers and started making my papers into files.

Now I have cleaned up those files and papers, proud because I've taken a good bite out of this procrastinated job.

THe next task on the list is to sit at my computer and write something clever, insightful and sure to bring me international renown.

I'm tired!

All I want to do is sit in my hot tub. I think there may already be people from other apartments in it, but that doesnt even deter me.

Creativity doesn't seem to lie on the desk underneath my papers, waiting for me to pick it up.

Too bad.

I'm off to be steamed and gurgled.

Posted by Murphy Horner at 08:44 PM | Permalink

Chris asked me a few weeks ago what I would do if I won the lottery. I immediately answered:

Go back to school.

Fortunately, I don't have to win the lottery to attend the occasional class. I already tried the community college nearby. It was kind of disappointing.

I am a GRADUATE now. This high horse has a nice view.

So I thought I would pay real money for a class, and take an extension course. UCLA was calling.

UCLA seems so cool! The campus is beautiful, and they have so much going on all the time.

My class is very short, eight meetings of "Telling on Yourself: Self-Revelation through Memoir Writing"

That's what I seem to be doing lately, in my reminiscent pieces about Alaska.

I fear, however, that this class will be full of blue-haired women wanting to tell their life story. We'll see.

It doesn't start until April, but only 20 people were allowed in. First come, first served. I got in.

Plus, it's for credit. Maybe I'll work my way all the way to a masters eventually.

Now all I need to do is figure out how to park without paying for it.

Posted by Murphy Horner at 09:21 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

I went to see the Hours. I'd read the book before seeing the movie. What that means is that I ought to have remembered kleenex.

But of course I didn't.

I think that reading the book spoiled a certain amount of surprise at what was going to happen. But then, reading Mrs. Dalloway prior to reading The Hours had kind of spoiled some of the surprise.

It didn't matter, though. The movie was very true to the spirit of the book. The same feeling I had while reading the book, the feeling of being set adrift to revel in the details of the moment, were in the movie.

I could not help noticing all the small facts of decoration for the women. Their jewelry, their hair. Their clothes, yes their clothes. And the textures of their homes.

I don't know if it is something innately feminine or not, but many many women take great pleasure in the little pretty details of their dress and decorations. The Hours was so much about women.

Being about women, it is of course, about all of us. We all come from a woman, after all.

The title refers to the moment. The Hours, the hours that go by and the hours that stay. Life is nothing more than the hours that you inhabit. Not the days, because an entire day is far too full to live at once.

The story in this movie takes a single day in the life of three separate women and traces how it unwinds. The story shows the experiences they have and the choices they make. It celebrates the fullness of life, in a beautifully honest way, revealing how terrifying, glorious and precious life is.

Obviously, I loved it. I especially loved it because it was not sweet or happy. It was just true. I hope it wins some recognition.

Posted by Murphy Horner at 04:19 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Sunday, I finally made myself do something I had been wanting to do for what seems to be months.

I went to see a movie at the Vista Theater.

I'd seen the theater in my many excursions and it is beautiful. A single theater on the corner of Sunset and Prospect, with a huge brick red facade with a huge white scrollwork all over the front. I mentioned it to someone and she said, "Oh the Vista! That's a great theater!"

So I was even more eager to go.

There was another local theater the Los Feliz 3. But people didn't say the same sort of nice things about it. And it didn't have scroll work!

Little did I know, the scrollwork was just the beginning!

The interior was beautifully decorated in Egyptian art. Men with towels around their waists did two-dimensional activities around the back walls of the snack bar. Inside the theater, though, was amazingly spectacular.

The bright red curtains (when was the last timeI saw real curtains in a theater?) were topped with hissy snakes. The corners were ornately molded with more snakes and other creatures.

Around the sides were gold-painted disembodied heads, regal in blue headresses. Under each was its own light. Lit from beneath, the heads were especially eerie. When the lights went down for the movie, the lights did not go entirely out for the heads. They glowed in the darkness.

But the seating was quite luxurious. The rows were very far apart. While I was sitting, I could stretch my long leg forward, point my toe, and still not touch the seat in front of me.

It was nice to have that much space. It occurred to me that I could have brought a tavle in with me, if I had wanted to.

The Vista is my new favorite local theater. Anyone making a trip to LA and wanting to see a movie in Hollywood (tm) ought to go.

I felt like it was worth the eight bucks. And for me, that is saying a lot.

Posted by Murphy Horner at 04:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

My good friends came down to L.A. and stopped to see me. We were going to have dinner here.

I was excited to have them come, so I wanted to pick a nice place to eat. I am a restaurant reviewer, after all. I ought to know places.

Well, maybe.

I thought it would be fun to go to the Tam o'Shanter. The place looks like it could have been dropped straight out of Stratford-upon-Avon.

The Tam o'shanter is a fairy tale looking place. Walt Disney used to hang out there.

But when I called, they didn't have room for us.

So I decided we should go to the Dresden. I hadn't been there before, but I had wanted to go inside and try it out.

It was beautiful. "It looks like it's from a movie!" they said.

Cream-colored booths arching in an art-deco swoop filled the room. There were wooden beams reaching from the floor to the very high cieling, and lights that spiralled up through the middle of them.

To our surprise, the Dresden served Italian food. It was pretty and we had a very good time.

Posted by Murphy Horner at 11:43 PM | Permalink

Happy Valentine's Day!

For you, my readers, loved and cherished by me.
I don't know all of you, but it is a tremendous delight to know that you exist and that my writing is not a forest tree falling in solitude.

I have chosen a poem for you, by Emily Dickinson. She is also beloved by me. She was insistently creative, prolific and terse. She pondered her experiences and captured them in words. Here is one of her poems for you:

Come Slowly
by Emily Dickinson

Come slowly, Eden
Lips unused to thee.
Bashful, sip thy jasmines,
As the fainting bee,
Reaching late his flower,
Round her chamber hums,
Counts his nectars -alights,
And is lost in balms!

Posted by Murphy Horner at 09:29 AM | Permalink

Hey everybody! I found this massively nerdy post from this other blogger

For those of you with a fondness for using equal signs in conjuction with letters on the extreme ends of the alphabet, go look at and see what you think.

Basically, it's a model for how bloggers can become seen in cyberspace. I like the idea of good content being immediately rewarded.

Posted by Murphy Horner at 04:56 PM | Permalink

My Travelocity Fare Watcher says that prices from LAX to Moscow have dropped to $441. That's pretty darn good!

When I went to Russia the first time, in 1991, I had to pay $1200.

For some reason, I was talking to my bus friend Rufina about Russia today. I was telling her about how we carried eggs home from the market.

It is my impression that supply lines in Russia have always been bad. This was especially true when I was living there, 91-93. There were rations in effect for us. FLour, salt, sugar, tea, candy, you had to have ration stamps for all this.

After a few months, the rations stopped. But that didn't mean that supplies were readily available. One of the commodities that was hard to find was eggs.

Eggs were precious.

They weren't around very often. I took me a while to realize how long they weren't around. We'd been there for a few months, and I think I asked about where to buy eggs.

"They will be coming later."

So I waited. I didn't really think about it, but one day I was walking down the Prospect, and there was a huge line.

THe natural thing to do when you see a line in Russia is to get in it. You have to be prepared to take opportunities when they arrive.

I asked the people in line what was being sold, and it was eggs.

The line was amazingly long. I was surprised, because I hadn't seen this kind of line before.

I had already learned to carry a string bag in my pocket. You had to be prepared to buy enough of what you needed whenever it appeared.

But how do you carry eggs home?

They didn't have then in dozen cartons like in America. We were only allowed to buy 20 eggs each, because it was only fair that everyone got a few.

Believe me, I had my doubts about carrying those 20 eggs back to the apartment. First, would the mesh of the string bag let the eggs slip out?

Apparently not. I watched all the people ahead of me walking out with a string sac of eggs, gently laid together.

I guess the point was to walk slowly and carefully.

Neither of which I am good at.

But these were eggs! Eggs were precious.

I purchased my eggs, and slowly and tenderly laid each one in the sac. I held the sac carefully away from my side, to avoid bumping into it.

Visions of the mess and tragedy that would ensue if I tripped and fell kept me very focussed.

One foot in front of the other, I walked the few blocks to our home.

I believe we ate our last few eggs that night, the ones from the last shipment.

I wonder if they sell eggs in cartons there now?

Probably.

Posted by Murphy Horner at 10:14 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

My vote for Song of the Year 2002 goes to Elvis's "A Little Less Conversation".

Before that song came out, I really didn't have any feelings about Elvis at all. He seemed to have had some kind of place in history, so I meant to find out about him. But I was never that inspired.

I got the Elv1s album for Christmas, and then I got a chance to get up close and personal. The whole album is great, I enjoy it a lot. It gets me grooving. There are a lot of stupid songs, like Teddy Bear. But stupidity in pop music is ubiquitous, really.

Being a fan of both the swing scene and electronica music, i LOVE what JXL has done with this one song. There is so much that is interesting and exciting, I could dance to it forever.

Posted by Murphy Horner at 04:16 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

In November 2000, I had a chance to visit Manhattan. It was for work, and no one else wanted to go. I was thrilled at the chance to spend what amounted to a week in New York City, on the company tab. They put me up in a Madison Avenue hotel, right below Rockefeller Square. While I was there, all the Christmas decorations were put up. The streets were bustling and beautiful.

But I was alone.

I got off the airplane in JFK and made it to the taxi line alone. Me and the cab driver talked as we drove to the hotel, and I checked in alone. My beautiful hotel room was filled with only me.

I found dinner alone, and I walked to the office building where I would be working. The dark streets were lit and the tall mirrored building waited for me.

It's easy to work fast when you work alone. After I did my day's work, I went alone through the subways and stopped to hear the street musicians play. I could stay and listen as long as I wanted.

I went alone to the empire state building and looked out at all those millions of light across the sky.

I went to the U.N. just to see. I went to Central park, and bought a knish, and later a hot dog.

I loved Manhattan. The kinetic thought-energy was electrifying. It helped that I knew my time was limited, and I had so much I wanted to see.

But it was very strange to be so alone in this huge mass of people. I wanted to strike up conversations with strangers, just to hear the sounds of my own voice, and to know that I was still there.

People were streaming all around me; passing on sidewalks, sitting on the subway--people seemed to be piled up on one another like iguanas in a pet shop. I breathed the air that millions exhaled, and walked through the space their forms had blocked milliseconds before.

New York is a big city.

Posted by Murphy Horner at 11:27 AM | Permalink

Humans are social animals, so they say.

I am a very social animal, I think. I like having lots of people around me. That's one of the things I like about California. There are simply more people to be around.

Being a teenager is a time when you are especially concerned with the social aspects of life. Boy, I sure was. I was like a throbbing antenna, aware of every shift in social winds.

When I was forced against my will to be homeschooled, I knew my social status would plummet and never recover. My parents, excited about how great teaching me at home would be, didn't believe me. "You'll be fine!" Mom said.

Thus began my four years of jockeying for a position in the tight cliquey circle of teenagers from the small private school I had left. Any position. I had to make sure not to lag too far behind when the group was lining up to file into rows of chairs at events or in church. I felt humliation and self-loathing as I pushed my way forward in the line so that I did not get stuck on the end of the row. You could not hear anything or be included when you were on the end.

Teenagers can smell self-loathing like wolves smell fear. My insecure position did not go unnoticed.

Since my days were long and empty, the catty comments and cold-shouldering doled out by my "friends" were constantly on my mind. Which were intentional? What did they really think of me? How could I win back favor and be respected?

Once, after a few years of this wore on, an occasion arose. We were going in to a church event. I say "we"; in reality, my group of friends were already lined up with a few new people to make things lively. For some reason, I had been left behind the group. I stood at the door of the auditorium and looked at the girls lined up in the pew. They were already sitting down. I was filled with shame at the thought of squeezing in, unwanted, to be tagged on at the end. I would inevitably spend the time looking at the back of some more fashionable shirt as its wearer turned away from me to talk with the rest of group.

I hated feeling this way. I wanted nothing more than to be included. But experience had taught me that I could only expect humiliation.

Suddenly, I was mad! Those girls had no right to treat me this way. I might not be able to be included in the conversation, but as least I could be excluded with dignity:

I COULD SIT ALONE.

The idea was as revolutionary as the apple falling on Newton's head. Fear and excitement shot through me--my heart was pounding. Did I really dare to be alone? If I sat alone, would the girls then be so relieved to be rid of me that they would forever more exclude me?

But the idea gave me so much more self-respect. I did not have to walk in and take the blows to my feelings. NO! I could be alone.

I marched down the aisle, past the group and sat alone near the front. I felt my back prickle, sure that they were all staring at me. I stayed for the service. I watched everything, finally able to notice what was going on. Once the absorbing distraction of my friends was gone, I realized that a lot of other things were happening.

I felt somewhat exposed, as if I were naked. Like a hermit crab rushing from one discarded shell to a new larger home. At the end of the service, I felt renewed. I learned that there was the option of being alone.

Posted by Murphy Horner at 10:07 AM | Permalink

My friend Leena has a blog too!

Go check her out.

She always makes me think.

Posted by Murphy Horner at 02:39 PM | Permalink

SO my book club was meeting at a new place this month.

We read The Portrait of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde. I really enjoyed the novel.

And I LOVE my book club, they are all such smarty people. This time we were going to meet in a bar. I figured it might be even more fun, with alcohol to loosen our tongues.

Walking down the street trying to find the address, I was stopped by a sale sign in front of a rack of clothes. I had to stop.

The girl came up and told me that everything must go, and she would give me a good price on anything I saw.

I asked her if she knew where the bar was.

"Ummm...No, I don't think so. But there is another rack of clothes inside if you like."

An offer I couldn't refuse!

There was another lady looking at the shirts, too. She was talking to the proprietor about travelling to Europe. "I just got back from Rome. I was lecturing there."

"Oh really?" the man said through his thick Armenian accent. "What about?"

"I'm a make-up artist. I do special effects, like wounds or disembowelment."

"Not the sort of techniques you can use at home." I said.

"No," she said. "Not really. But I've gotten awards every year for the past 10 years. I'm really good at it."

"That's fabulous! Congratulations!" I said.

Then we talked about the different shirts for a while. She held one up. "I think I like this one."

"Yeah, it's cute."

"See, it has indian inspired designs on the front and back. But on the sleeves, the pattern is more American Indian."

"Ooh! An Ironic shirt! You should get it."

"I think I will."

I had to get going to my book club. I walked off, thinking about award-winning disembowelment artists.

A Hollywood moment.

Posted by Murphy Horner at 09:34 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

So, the Head Being Over All held a conference today.

No, not the higher technology, higher maintenance video conference that I usually deal with.

This was just a regular phone conference.

But he is not a regular guy. He's the Head Being Over All, let's not forget.

The boss asked me to make sure that the conference went well.

"You mean check the phone to make sure it works?"

"Yes, and do whatever it takes."

I would make sure that phone dialed. It was in a video conference room, which means they would call me anyway. Fine, I went up there. I pressed the button.

BUZZZ

yep, the phone works. But hey, I'll go the extra mile. I'll even dial the number for the Head Being. Why not?

I punched in the phone number. All good. Everything's fine.

The Head Being and all the sub-beings entered. Naturally, the Head Being did not acknowledge me. Some of the lesser beings did.

It was funny to hear them make fun of each other's ties.

Well, the Head Being was apparently appeased. The phone worked. Good for me.

And he has another call tomorrow. In a different city.

The boss wants me to go help with this other conference.

"You realize that I am not a phone expert. All I can do is punch in the number."

"That's fine. You should go."

After our boss left, my cube neighbor said, "Now your're stuck with it, Murphy. They'll never be able to use a phone without you.

This could work out for you. If they have a telephone conference in London, you could get a trip out of it."

I smiled maniacally and air-dialed a phone.

"I am the Corporate Finger."

I'm putting it on my resume.

EXPERIENCE:
Corporate Finger for Head Being-30% travel

Posted by Murphy Horner at 07:52 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

So this Friday, I had to set up a conference for a committee meeting. This particular committee was not internal to my company. They were just using the room.

It's a nice room, really. The guy who was there to set up for the committee was quite impressed with all the bells and whistles. Ooh! A dvd player! Ooh! A touch panel to control all the different A/V equipment in the room! Ooh! an electronic whiteboard.

I'm pretty used to it, so it doesn't seem exciting to me. But I was eying the food they'd brought in. Yummy deli sandwiches, salad and cookies. But what really caught my eye was the deli pickles. The kind that are light green and extra dilly.

But I they hadn't started eating yet. I figured I'd bide my time.

THe presenter was late, she came in with a rush. She emptied her bag on the table, throwing out the CD and the DVD that she was using for the show.

whoops. The DVD was not in the case. Thus followed a panicked attempt to find the movie clip on the internet. She was too panicked to really stop and choose her clicks.

Well, she finally got settled in. The original guy had asked me before what they should do if something went wrong mid-meeting.

I told him I'd give him my card. Well, I realized I had forgotten my card. I wrote my cell down on a little yellow sticky. And I thought this was the intro to my move on the yummy pickles.

I handed the sticky to the guy, and I whispered, "Can I have a pickle?"

He accepted the sticky, and in response to my question he reached into his pocket. He very carefully opened his wallet, searched through it, and gave me his card.

There are times when all you can do is say Thank You and walk away.

Posted by Murphy Horner at 06:16 PM | Permalink