Get Lost Crazy Purple Pants!!

Before I had my gallbladder surgery, B and I decided to head over to our new restaurant find, this small Mexican dive a couple blocks away. Like most of my friends, we love to find some good authentic yummy Mexican food. Before this find, we would have had to travel miles downtown or miles uptown to get something great. No more. The Mexican place, combined with the Thai place we found, is quickly making this neighborhood the BEST PLACE TO LIVE EVER. Now if we could only find a quality Chinese place...

I digress.

So we headed to the restaurant about an hour before they were going to close and much to my delight, the place was deserted. So I dreamt of chips and salsa and peace and quiet. The waitress, the same waitress as always, brought us HOT chips and noted to the bus boy that she was going to break down in tears any minute while watching the latest Extreme Makeover. All was good.

And in came purple pants.

Purple pants thought he was something else. Obviously from the snootier* side of town, I imagine he considered his travels into this place "slumming." The waitress told him and his wife/girlfriend to sit anywhere they wanted. So they sat in the booth immediately behind us.

Of course they did.

And then the crazy ensued:

CPP to lady friend: Do you think they have a liquor license?

CPP to bus boy: Do you have a liquor license?

Bus boy: No.

CPP: OHHHH NOOOO....we just came here for margaritas and chips.

Bus boy: Well, I can get you the chips.

CPP: No. I really want a margarita.

CPP: We already ate. I just want a margarita.

[pause]

CPP: Do you have a take out menu?

Waitress: It is the same as the real menu

CPP: I cannot believe you don't have margaritas. We were driving by and saw the sign and thought "let's get a margarita."

(Note: Saying it/requesting it/demanding it will not make the liquor license they do NOT have suddenly go into effect)

CPP: Okay, well I guess we will come back when we are less....thirsty.

Exit crazy purple pants and his girl stage center.

I have never been so happy that a place could not sell liquor in my life because if I had to listen to that man drone/bray in my ear for five minutes longer, I was going to need a margarita.

Oh, and B says he was wearing a denim jacket too.

Perfect.

*Is snootier a word? If not, it should be.

A Three Hour Tour a/k/a These Old Houses... Part 1

Every year, a neighborhood in a big city by us has a walking tour of the homes. B and I try to go every year because the homes are phenomenal. They are old, like our house, but three and four times the size. Plus, you get to go in and see all of the features, the remodeling, and hear the stories of past owners and how much it cost to build the house originally (usually between $10,000 and $15,000).

Typically, it is HOT when we do this. One year I thought I was going to die. In fact, my memory of that tour involved me crying out inside my head every two minutes I AM GOING TO DIE while sweat dripped all over me. Sexy.

This year, however, the weather was perfect. It was sunny with a breeze. Perfect walking weather.

Take a walk with me and see what we saw.

A view of the street and those huge gorgeous trees. Also a view of a line to get into one of the houses. The good houses always have long lines:

Some houses from across the street:

A picture of B acting exasperated at my picture taking:

Beautiful dark red plum looking tree. This photo courtesy of B:

This house was owned by Jack White of the White Stripes. Apparently they recorded one of their albums in the foyer. Yes, it is that big. The latest owner renovated and changed a lot of stuff that Jack had done to the place. They had before pictures throughout the house showing what it looked like when Jack White was in it. Most of the rooms looked better after, however, B thought the study looked better before. Jack White liked a lot of reds and whites (no surprise) and dark rooms. B likes dark rooms too. I prefer light and airy.

I don't think any one in that line knows the house used to be owned by Jack White. We sure didn't. It was not listed in the book.

Below is a house not open on the tour. They rotate houses year to year. Sometimes the same ones are on the tour; other times they are different. Some houses that are not open still have signs in front of them telling you famous owners of the home and some history.

Look at those columns:

This house even had singing boys and a man with a cello. I think. I am so not musical. Then again B thought they sounded like they were screaming.

The VERY long line we were standing in:

We are getting closer. Also, notice the woman on the stool. Can you even see the stool? I think it was getting closer too:

B and I liked this tree. We both took a picture of it:

Tours are fun. Tours are also annoying. Just like in school, there are always some people who want to show off. In our case, it was a 90 year old man who must have read up on the history. That is fine. It was fine when he informed his companions all about the house we were waiting in line to see. No big deal. You know what was NOT fine? This:

Docent: This house was owned by the same man that founded the zoo.

Old Man: Contrary to popular belief, you are right.

Okay, I have no idea what he just said. Did he mean we all didn't believe she was right? Did he mean we all didn't believe the zoo man owned the house?

Old Man: The man that founded the zoo owned this house.

Hi redundant. We covered that, remember?

Docent: [Pause]

Docent: In 1918...

Without missing a beat, God bless her.

Then we went inside. Once inside, the next docent started talking about the pewabic tile around the fireplace and how the blue glazed tile was a secret recipe that was lost over the years and cannot be replicated.

Old Man: That's not true!

Docent: Oh? You have the recipe?

Old Man: No, but I can tell you where it is hidden.

At that point, I turned to B and said "You have GOT to be kidding me!" followed by "We have got to get the hell out of here before I kill this man!" And we did. Thankfully, no one else was quite as disturbing on the rest of the tour, except for maybe the twins...

*to be continued with pictures on Thursday!

Catch Me If You Can Copper!

The latest edition of the Crime Watch Chronicles in our paper involved a drunk driver who nearly collided with police, but not in the way you would think.

You see, Ms. DUI was driving erratically giving the police the impression she might be intoxicated. Thus, they attempted to pull her vehicle over. Like a good soldier, the woman slowed down gradually and came to stop on a residential road. However, she mistook "reverse" for "park" thereby causing the officer that pulled her over to have to quickly reverse his vehicle as well as call the backup vehicle and tell him to reverse. Gives a whole new meaning to "backup" doesn't it? The woman reversed a full two car lengths before the officer put on his siren and she stopped.

Needless to say, she was arrested because she was too intoxicated to even perform any sobriety tests.

As soon as I read this story it reminded me of my own story about being pulled over by the cops, although I was not drunk at the time. This story is legend in my family and even B knows it.

You see, I was a young 17ish girl driving like a fool down a busier-but-still-residential street when I spotted a police car heading toward me. At that exact moment, my car actually caught air from the huge bump I hit and I knew I was in trouble. Sure enough, the cop was attempting to do a U turn to pull me over. So I did what any rational 17 year old would do.

I ran.

Yep. I put the pedal to the medal and took off! What was I hoping to accomplish you wonder? I just wanted to get home which was a few blocks away. Why, you ask? Because my Dad worked in law enforcement and I was convinced he could get me out of this. You know out of the whole fleeing and eluding the police and everything (see fingers, I told you I mostly elude and not allude).

So I sped and make totally erratic and dangerous turns until finally I stopped about one house away from mine as my Dad was walking out of the front door. Gold!

The cop was PISSED! My Dad was PISSED! I was 17 so I was surly and foul. But, I did not get a ticket. I did get grounded for over a week and a lecture on being nicer to cops that pull me over when I am FLEEING THEM.

But I didn't get a ticket.

Many years later and just a few months ago at a family dinner, B asked my Dad about this story. We all laughed and then my Dad said "it was actually rather smart of her."

Gold!

*Please note that I never would endorse fleeing or eluding a police officer for any reason let alone something as stupid as speeding. However, I was 17 and stupid and hormonal and ...enough said.