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Another Tuesday has trickled down the pipeline… here it is. Roads seem fine today, which surprised me: I’d sort of expected to find nothing better than molten rivers of lava where roads once were, given our heat lately (yesterday, some of the Inland Empire hit 108 degrees, but with the wind chill, it felt more like 108). Maybe the night air just sort of cooled the asphalt down to re-solidifying temps. I don’t know. Whatever the case, the drive this morning has no hazards to report.
At the office where I work, the restrooms are supplied with “Royal” brand toilet paper… as a poker player, I smile every single time that, with nothing but a pair of deuces, I still get a Royal flush. I rarely walk away with much, as the hole card is always lousy, and there is rarely very much in the pot. Besides… in a squeeze play, I’ll either push, or just send everything down the river. Those are poker terms, by the way… not to be confused with craps.
Today is National Root Beer Float day. Indeed, that is a fine delicacy… but might I take this opportunity to suggest some great alternatives? A float made of vanilla ice cream and orange soda is pretty amazing. And, floats made with crème soda are another tasty variation. And then, if you start trying different flavors of ice cream, well, you have opened yourself up for all kinds of good experimentation. So, sure… use National Root Beer Float day to try all kinds of things other than just root beer floats!
Mrs. Kdog and I recently stayed at a Super 8 motel. Let it be known, that while we’ve considered doing so for a while, it is now official: from this day forward, we shall refer to these as “Section 8” hotels. This moniker won out over some close contestants, vying against entries such as, “Stupid 8,” “Urinate,” and even, “Suction 8.” Perhaps I am a slow learner, but the last FIVE rooms (over some time) at Section 8 have been bad… really bad. Whether it’s air conditioners that do NOT work (especially in 100 degree weather!), pillows that smell like urine, or actual freakin’ mice running through the rooms, we’ve lost all faith. One Section 8 hotel we recently stayed in was a repeat. (I may have mentioned my propensity for slow learning.) We’d last stayed at this one TWO years ago… but I figured it wouldn’t STILL be that bad. Like, the ice machine couldn’t STILL be broken, right?
Well, I checked in… the attendant even gave me the quick rundown of where to find various amenities, and carefully noted the directions on how to locate the ice machine… he even used a marker on the little map sheet, and took the time to draw an arrow to the ice machine. I was pleased… at least we’d have ice!
However, upon my subsequent location of said ice machine, I was amazed to discover that the very same “OUT OF ORDER” sign (only now yellowed, and looking very antiquey!) is STILL on the machine… the exact same sign that was there two years ago! The tape holding the ancient parchment (possibly even of Egyptian or Sumerian origin) is yellowed and elderly, but it is certainly the same sign that inspired dismay in me two years ago. If I recall, the sign even looked somewhere between “geriatric” and “archaeological” way back then! And yet they STILL tell guests where they can find the ice machine.
Oh, sure… they aren’t lying. It IS an ice machine. It simply doesn’t make ice, is all. It hasn’t done THAT since the last Ice Age. So, I suppose that after two plus years of not making ice, they still feel that it’s appropriate to inform guests regarding where to find the non-functional relic. Damn, though… ice would have been nice in any of the rooms that HAD NO FREAKIN’ AC.
On the other hand, I must also mention that we recently stayed in some different Motel 6 rooms… and were extremely pleased. Nice, new, clean, and just as cold—or warm—as we wanted them to be! I never thought I’d give Motel 6 so many stars, but they damn sure earned them. From now on, if I have to choose between the 8 and the 6, believe me, I’d happily pay TWICE the rate for the 6.
That’s all I’ve got… see, you’ve got to know when to hold ‘em… know when to fold ‘em… know when to walk away, know when to run. Of course, you are welcome for planting the seeds of a Kenny Rogers song, to provide background music in your head all day long. But, sorry if that whole poker paragraph seemed to have ended up sounding vulgar somehow… even though my intent was certainly not that, I guess I always end up sticking these things right up the ante and then out my manhole.