Should I Stay or Should I Go?

Mister Smith contemplates the trip back to Seattle:

I've moved about 15 times - big moves, transcon, internationally, etc.  If you include the usual shifts between apartments and houses and such, maybe 35?

I have it down to an art, which is not to say it is not a pain in the ass.

I wish DC had worked out better - of course I am so hard on myself anything less than Brilliant Success falls under I Suck.

But I did have two good jobs and more importantly, I made friends.  The Greek of Falls Church and Laura Walker: Girl Detective.  I also became much closer to my friend Chippy, the sister I never had.

And Now for Something Completely Different, 
a Tune from The Clash:




To Berens, Heather and Summer:  Can I sing this at the next Throwin' Goat?  I really want to belt out the line,

You're happy when I'm on my knees!

Does that require any explanation?  No, no it does not.

Family, the Official Ones, and a Bit of Baseball

My Mom gave me a gift certificate for Ancestry.com.  I've been looking up friends' ancestry left and right, and ordering all kinds a cool copies of records for folks.

Kendall is from Ireland (did the red hair and name give it away?); Chippy is Old-School Brit; Marie is Czechoslavakian.... and Me?  

I am - wait for it - Bohemian.  Bohemian!  Does this shock anyone?  No, no it does not.  I am so thrilled I can dismiss any responsibility for my actions to: Dude, I am a BOHEMIAN.  I have no modern-day morality.  Now if I can work in paganism I AM GOLDEN.

That said, my father's family is a different story.  My Dad never speaks of his father, and as well he wouldn't.  My grandfather was a cruel, abusive drunk who beat his wife and eventually his kids.

I met him once when I was little.  He gave me a fifty-cent piece. 

When off from working the railroad, he played minor league baseball, a catcher.  He never made it to The Show.  Not because of lack of talent but because he couldn't stay sober.  And that's saying something for back in The Day, when no one cared if you were a sot.  Often he was so drunk during games he could barely get out of the crouch - but in the heat of the game, no one got past him at home plate, no pop up was missed.  He was hands down one of the best minor league players in Texas.  

I wonder who he would have been, had he been able to put down the bottle.

If anyone, maybe a man who did not beat his son, my father.

Things You Need to Do and/or Not Do

As I've been a bit peevish and moody lately (I KNOW - since when?  So out of character!  Maybe I should take my 400 dollar-a-month antidepressant meds!) here now, for your reading pleasure, a list to keep handy on what one should and should not do to avoid having your shins kicked by the rest of Polite Society.

1.  At the terminus of the escalator, please move your lost ass out of the line of fire.  The rest of us cannot NOT disembark the escalator and you are in the effing way.

2.  Unless you are getting off at the next stop, or the Metro car resembles a sardine can, move away from the door.  If you are one of the seven people hovering at the car door for no reason, I promise you, this position will not get you to your destination sooner.

3.  Do NOT exit or enter a cab on the street side.  You are asking to get picked off by passing traffic, especially if you are in midtown Manhattan.  There is a reason why this is an internationally-recognized rule of thumb.  Perhaps street-side entry/exit is advantageous in the Darwinian sense (for the rest of us), but otherwise not a good idea.

4.  Tip the wait staff.  I do not care how poor you think you are, you are eating out.  This suggests you have disposable income.  If you cannot leave a 20 percent tip to the poor schmo that just put up with you over the past hour (Can I have a straw?  Can I get this without ice?  Do you have any sliced lemon?) stay home.

5.  Say "Please", and for god sakes learn when to say "Thank you" (When do you say Thank you? = ALWAYS).  If you do not know when to say "Thank you", check your butt for a brand - you were raised in a barn.  Please correct this shortcoming.  You are an adult now.  Choose to be polite.

6.  Approximately two percent of the American population is functionally deaf.  This includes my mother.  Deaf folks are not being rude, or purposefully ignoring you, or trying to offend.  My mother lives in great isolation - conversations are difficult; crowds scare her... and there is little music in her world.  So the annoying person in line ahead of you at the store may be without one of the five senses you give little thought to.  Be patient.

7.  If you choose to paint your face in the colors of the professional sports team which you back, don't get all worked up when people stare and/or snicker.  Lack of pride is fascinating to the rest of us.

8.  While boarding a plane, get the Eff out of the aisle once you get to your row.  Why I even have to list this breaks my heart and brings to the forefront the undeniable truth that people are inherently idiots.

9.  Famous people do not want your attention, nor do they want to hear you natter on about your points of view.  They do not care because YOU ARE A STRANGER TO THEM.  Stop speaking. 

10.  Finally, and perhaps most importantly:  Ignorance is not the same as stupidity. 

Some Law, Some Advertising

In the short history of this ground-breaking blog, I've avoided my professional interests in environmental and civil rights law issues. That should probably be a different blog, where I use my real name and actually take responsibility for my words.

Not like here.

That said, recent developments in California's fight regarding Proposition 8 (initiative barring gay marriage) bring to light one thing on which I'd like to comment.

I'm not going to go into the facetiousness of the argument itself (claim that the judge who overturned California's ban on same-sex marriage had an obligation to recuse due to his alleged conflict of interest - said judge is gay).

But you do have to wonder how many BILLABLE HOURS went into that action - formulating the argument, researching, writing, filing, obligating the opponent to respond and do the same; sucking up valuable court time. Did no one over at Righteous Nuts Against Civil Liberties the Protect Marriage Coalition stop and say, Gee guys, is this action really a good idea?

Bringing us to the Groupon Super Bowl ad.

Even if you are a civilian (i.e., not in the advertising industry) you have an idea of the expense, exposure, pressure and stakes of running an ad on the Super Bowl. It can establish a brand where there was hardly one before, while fully and fundamentally changing the landscape of broadcast advertising.

So no mistakes, Please. Edgy yes - Idiocy, No.

Digression: I tend to only pay attention to the more novel brands that advertise on the Super Bowl. Although women are over 50% of the population and make 80% of the buying decisions, according to the majority of advertisers we don't have much sense when it comes to purchasing automobiles, beer, liquor, snack foods, electronics or dinners at mainstream chain restaurants. Apparently my breasts (magnificent though they are) interfere with my disposable income decision-making processes.

End of digression.

The Groupon ad's pay off was along the lines of, Hey, sucks to be an oppressed society - but those Tibetans still make one mean bowl o' Pho! Or something like that.

My first flummoxed response was, Did I miss a crucial verb, or phrase, that totally redeemed that Steaming Pile of Steaminess?

Then I thought - Wow, how the hell did that get produced. From the fool creative team that took it to the ACD (who approved it), to the CD (Id.), through internal review (Id.), then to the client.

No one at the client noticed how awful the creative concept was. Nor the directors who sold their souls to pitch it, the one who 'won' it (I landed a Super Bowl ad!). I guess because of the Malibu mortgage and three alimony obligations?

Weeks of pre-production, casting, courting Famous Actor (Famous Actor, who read the script as well as his agent, manager, assistant, wife, mistress, other mistress, and two cats. All approved - "Let's DO THIS!"). Further weeks of principal photography, post-production, and daily painful approvals throughout.

And within minutes of its airing - on the sporting event that delivers the largest broadcast audience each year, every year - customers walked away, the general public was somewhere in the spectrum between dismayed and outraged....

And of course client and agency are both, Wait, What? Folks are offended? Why goodness gracious, that possibility never crossed our minds! And even if folks were offended, it was a joke! And if it was a joke, we do actually support the causes of those we belittle in order to further our brand! And, uh, yeah.

So many emperors, so few clothes.

Regarding Father's Day

A tribute to dads, in an odd way, so bear with me. Also I have no patience whatsoever so this post is early.

My friend Kendall: Who I have written briefly about before. Kendall has been a dear, supportive friend for about eight years now. A loving and intuitive man with wonderful children, grandchildren Kendall's father never had the chance to know.

My friend Burns: A man who is cynically funny, can play the guitar BY EAR, and is a friend of the first order. He also lost his father too soon. He has two beautiful kids and has been through his share of challenges this past year.

My friend Ridley Scott*: A truly Upright Guy, insane talented director and maybe the funniest person I've ever met. I was crazy-nuts about him when I lived in CA. He was not so much The Crazy about me, but always kind and respectful. That truly showed when he came through for me when I was in one of the darkest times of my life. I met his folks once or twice and his dad was so great, so proud of him.

My friend John: An incredible illustrator whose work touches many. I kept emailing him insightful and funny missives (well, I think they were) until I finally wore him down and now we are friends. An amazing man - sweet, open, and full of kindness. He also has so much integrity I think it leaks out his ears, a potential problem for his pillowcases I would imagine. I've had the pleasure of meeting his father twice, so I now know where he gets his charm, generosity of heart, and awesome fashion sense.

My friend Christopher: An intelligent, passionate young man who had a very challenging childhood. Another man with great integrity. He just recently lost his father and my heart aches to know that his father will not be here to see how successful and influential Christopher will be. Witty, smart and informed to the point of being irritating, I am so lucky to know him.

My friend Daniel: Daniel is husband to Marie, dear friends I have written about before. Daniel is more the parent-at-home than Marie, as she is out successfully conquering the international world of advertising. Their kids are terrific and will grow up to be loving and giving adults.

What is my point? Bring it back around, Elle....

These 6 guys have been great to me in their own ways. Some in very narrow windows of time; some give what they can give; others have supported me throughout my adult life.

Although their fathers surely had faults and fallacies (like you know, people), those fathers ultimately gave me the gift of loving friends.

So Thanks from Me, to my friend's dads. Happy Father's Day.


Postscript: I really wanted to work in the phrase, "Besties With Testes", but maybe next time. Sorry Burns.



* Not the real one. Come on People - Really? I would've bragged about that a long time ago.

Have a Funny.

So most of you are aware I am enamored with the Michael Cera.

I KNOW. I don't get it either.

The man-child is still damp with afterbirth, that's how young he is. I also tend to go for big strapping Alpha males, preferably with beards. Dudes: if you can grow a beard, do. It will serve you well.

So I don't know why I like Michael Cera.

Although if I did have a chance with him I'd probably accidentally crush his bony self and completely dehydrate the poor boy. Let's be honest.

Anyway, here he is as Alexander Hamilton in the first of the Drunk History series, brought to you by the talented folks at Funny or Die.

Note the shoes he is wearing in the wide shot after he is gunned down by Aaron Burr. For some reason that cracks me up to no end:

Drunk History Vol. 1 - Featuring Michael Cera from Michael Cera

I also like, "There's a bucket under the fridge."

Can anyone give me an idea as to how to edit out of the html, the ads and pop ups and bullshit? That'd be awesome.

My Grandmother

My Mom's mom. From a German family, poor as dirt. My great-grandparents settled in Anahuac Texas (yep, real place, look it up). Population 300.

When my grandma married my grandpa and moved to Po-Dunk (pop. 80,000), she was shunned by the folks in Anahuac - she'd 'gone all Town.'

She pretty much raised me, and all the good things of my heart came from her.

Some Grandma gems:

"Your Great-Grandpa deserted from the Kaiser's Calvary. Well it was either World War One or your Great-Grandma. Otherwise you wouldn't be here, so don't judge."

........

Discussing burial plots.
Me: You've been going to The Methodist Church of Po-Dunk, maybe you want a plot there?
Grandma: Oh No, I don't want to be buried there - I want to be down Anahuac.
Me: Why? What's wrong with the Po-Dunk cemetery?
Grandma: Well I don't know all those dead people!

...........

How to cook Cajun food.
Me: Grandma, can you tell me how to make gumbo?
Grandma: Oh it's easy! You make your roux, then put in your onions and all, and cook it for six hours. Then you add your shrimp and it's done.
Me: What? What do you mean 'make your roux'?
Grandma: You cook down your lard and flour and make your roux. It only takes an hour or two.
Me: WHAT?
Grandma: If you don't know how to make your own roux, I don't know who you are related to.

..........

On moving to Austin to attend university.
"Now you listen to me!", as she grabs my hand.
A statement that always made me sit up when coming from my Grandma.
"Now I want you to have a good time, but you use those condoms!"
WHAT?
"Well you just make sure those boys keep it bagged!"

...........

On my moving to Australia in 1991.
Note the year.
"Now you listen to me!"
What - wear clean underwear? "Okay Granny, lay it on me."
"Don't you go getting the AIDS!"
Er, okay Grandma, I'm on it. Good advice.

.............

Living in Manhattan around 93, Grandma comes to visit.
We are walking through Times Square - and this is back in the day before Disney took it over - a dicey area.

Grandma, linking my arm and pulling me close: "You think folks will think we're the lesbians?"
THE lesbians? Sounds like a lot of pressure.
"Grandma, if people think we're lesbians I'm sure they're gonna think you are one lucky old broad."
"You don't know, I have a good bosom."

............

Living in Southern California around 97, Grandma comes to visit.
We go to Shutters, a hotel in Santa Monica, for its fantastic brunch which includes free and generous Mimosas.

As we leave, Grandma slips on the highly-polished marble floor and completely wipes out. A bloody nose, swollen eyes and a twisted ankle. Of course the whole hotel staff is hovering in fear of law suit.

Us: Jesus Grandma, are you okay?
Staff: Mrs. Muller, what can we do for you?
Grandma: Oh I'm fine - bring me another Mimosa! That'll help!
Me: Grans, that won't help.
Grandma: Oh well give it a minute and maybe I'll look beat up enough for ALL of us to get Mimosas!

...........

And my favorite story, one ya'll have heard before but I really must include:

After graduating from UT-Austin I moved to Dallas and one weekend she and I went antique shopping. There's a long stretch down I-35 between Dallas and Austin with lots of old warehouses selling antiques. The flat prairie of Texas' I-35 offers a whole lot of nothing to look at.

We passed several billboards advertising a retirement community in
Austin which if you are from Austin, you know it. Don't recall completely, but the boards read something like "Be Your True Self at Happy Living".

By the fourth billboard, Grandma asks, "What's this 'Happy Living'
place?"
Me, wincing a bit: "Well, it's a retirement community, I think folks over 60, who, um...are nudists. It's a nudist colony for old folks."
....
"Well that's just disgusting."
"Well I don't know, Grandma, some people think being nude is natural, and, uh..."
"Oh no," she says, "I don't mind naked people, it's naked OLD people. Who wants to look at naked old people all day?"

...........

I have so many great stories about my grandmother, all in my own head, because Alzheimer's took them from her.

So lucky to have had her in my life.