Thursday, November 22, 2007
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
The Hilton's go to Houston
I write to you from a La Quinta Inn and Suites in The Woodlands, Tejas.
Yesterday morning started when I was awoken by the phone call at 5:30am from my car service telling me they were waiting in front to pick me up. I had overslept, and I had obviously not even packed. I left the house wearing, literally, the clothes i slept in, and without brushing my hair. Normally I try to look my best when flying, because you never know who you might see/meet on a flight, but clearly, this time it wasn't going to happen. OF COURSE, this was the time that my flight to NOLA there were about 100 tall dark and handsome dreamboats, and also the flight where I ran into someone I knew in from HS.
As soon as I landed, the family and I embarked on a 9+ hr drive to Houston in the Katrina Minivan. In order to fill time, the Hilton family did what they do best, and my mother and I engaged in debates as Dennis moderated. You might think I am making this up, but I am not. We have rules of debate, rebuttals, topics, and time limits. My father, of course, came up with only the most logical of topics like, "old people or young people....who is better?".."what is a woman's place? the home or the white house?"...and "is Britney Spears an unfit parent, or just misunderstood?". That killed about 30 minutes of the ride. Then, for the last 8+ hrs of the ride, I came up with some general observations about parents i'd like to share with you.
Parents Love Talk Radio
Can anyone explain to me why parents LOVE talk radio? I can't STAND talk radio...if only because the AM frequency it broadcasts from is grating to the ears. I feel like my parents would listen to someone reading a tv manual if it came on Talk Radio.
Two Types of Dad
I have also discovered that there are 2 types of dad -- the stoic, un-talkative types who never show emotion, and the emotional mess Dads, who cry all the time, ask retrospective questions like, "do you think you had a good childhood growing up?" and talk to ANYONE and EVERYONE. My father, clearly, falls into Category B. Every stop we made on the torturous journey here to Texas, my father stopped to talk to someone. Usually, it was to ask directions, EVEN THOUGH we already had directions, and he always asked the most unsuspecting people. Example: Stop 1, my father asked a 15 year old who was wearing a Mickey Mouse Shirt, and flip flops. Yes dad, I'm sure this girl from outside Baton Rouge, LA who can't even drive is going to know whether there is much construction on the road between Beaumont and Houston. Next Stop, he asked this senile old man who was part of some group home outing. The man couldn't even remember that he had ordered 2 petite cheeseburgers at the mickey d's, nor could he remember his name, or how he even got to the mickey d's...but my father decided to ask him, "When do you think they are going to open up that patch of highway that they closed because of the oil spill?"
After arriving, I fell asleep on the bed in the La Quinta, and woke up 20 min later to find that my ENTIRE FAMILY had left me there, by myself. So, I decided to venture to the Denny's located conveniently next to our roadside motel, and I got a table for 1. Let me tell you something: There is nothing more depressing than a table for 1 in a suburb of houston the night before thanksgiving at a roadside Denny's. I think every person in the place pitied me SO much. Meanwhile, I was pitying them because I am on vacation, and that was their reality. Anywho, this co-ed approached me and told me that I looked like I wasn't "from around here". I, of course, started batting my eyelashes and was like, "i'm not..you're so right.." Then it dawned on me to ask him how old he was, not because I was concerned he was young, but because I was trying to figure out if he was some sort of 27 yr old engineering grad student from Rice, who was going to be the man of my dreams, and rescue me from my Table for 1. As it turns out, he was -- wait for it --- 17 years old. After sitting there quietly for a few painful moments, I was like, "oh, I'm almost 24...I should actually get going...you have a nice holiday", and I ran out of there with a quickness. Comforting to know, however, that should I want it, and should law school not work out, I could have a career as a Mary Kay Latourno (sp?) in Texas. Read more
Yesterday morning started when I was awoken by the phone call at 5:30am from my car service telling me they were waiting in front to pick me up. I had overslept, and I had obviously not even packed. I left the house wearing, literally, the clothes i slept in, and without brushing my hair. Normally I try to look my best when flying, because you never know who you might see/meet on a flight, but clearly, this time it wasn't going to happen. OF COURSE, this was the time that my flight to NOLA there were about 100 tall dark and handsome dreamboats, and also the flight where I ran into someone I knew in from HS.
As soon as I landed, the family and I embarked on a 9+ hr drive to Houston in the Katrina Minivan. In order to fill time, the Hilton family did what they do best, and my mother and I engaged in debates as Dennis moderated. You might think I am making this up, but I am not. We have rules of debate, rebuttals, topics, and time limits. My father, of course, came up with only the most logical of topics like, "old people or young people....who is better?".."what is a woman's place? the home or the white house?"...and "is Britney Spears an unfit parent, or just misunderstood?". That killed about 30 minutes of the ride. Then, for the last 8+ hrs of the ride, I came up with some general observations about parents i'd like to share with you.
Parents Love Talk Radio
Can anyone explain to me why parents LOVE talk radio? I can't STAND talk radio...if only because the AM frequency it broadcasts from is grating to the ears. I feel like my parents would listen to someone reading a tv manual if it came on Talk Radio.
Two Types of Dad
I have also discovered that there are 2 types of dad -- the stoic, un-talkative types who never show emotion, and the emotional mess Dads, who cry all the time, ask retrospective questions like, "do you think you had a good childhood growing up?" and talk to ANYONE and EVERYONE. My father, clearly, falls into Category B. Every stop we made on the torturous journey here to Texas, my father stopped to talk to someone. Usually, it was to ask directions, EVEN THOUGH we already had directions, and he always asked the most unsuspecting people. Example: Stop 1, my father asked a 15 year old who was wearing a Mickey Mouse Shirt, and flip flops. Yes dad, I'm sure this girl from outside Baton Rouge, LA who can't even drive is going to know whether there is much construction on the road between Beaumont and Houston. Next Stop, he asked this senile old man who was part of some group home outing. The man couldn't even remember that he had ordered 2 petite cheeseburgers at the mickey d's, nor could he remember his name, or how he even got to the mickey d's...but my father decided to ask him, "When do you think they are going to open up that patch of highway that they closed because of the oil spill?"
After arriving, I fell asleep on the bed in the La Quinta, and woke up 20 min later to find that my ENTIRE FAMILY had left me there, by myself. So, I decided to venture to the Denny's located conveniently next to our roadside motel, and I got a table for 1. Let me tell you something: There is nothing more depressing than a table for 1 in a suburb of houston the night before thanksgiving at a roadside Denny's. I think every person in the place pitied me SO much. Meanwhile, I was pitying them because I am on vacation, and that was their reality. Anywho, this co-ed approached me and told me that I looked like I wasn't "from around here". I, of course, started batting my eyelashes and was like, "i'm not..you're so right.." Then it dawned on me to ask him how old he was, not because I was concerned he was young, but because I was trying to figure out if he was some sort of 27 yr old engineering grad student from Rice, who was going to be the man of my dreams, and rescue me from my Table for 1. As it turns out, he was -- wait for it --- 17 years old. After sitting there quietly for a few painful moments, I was like, "oh, I'm almost 24...I should actually get going...you have a nice holiday", and I ran out of there with a quickness. Comforting to know, however, that should I want it, and should law school not work out, I could have a career as a Mary Kay Latourno (sp?) in Texas. Read more
Sunday, November 18, 2007
SERIOUSLY?
So...I just googled myself, and I discovered this site. I can't decide what is more disturbing: that I appear on this sort of IMDB database for theater at all, or that my only credit is when I played the role of "Bear" in the Jungle Book when I was in third grade? Oh, BTW -- "Bear" was one of those roles like "Tree" or "woman in village" that they added when they had too many cast-members and not enough roles. Maybe one day I'll add the rest of my roles from my esteemed career as a New Orleans thespian. Or is that pathetic? Difficult to say.
Read more
OF COURSE
Well, I've suffered another drinking related injury. We all remember when I broke a rib when falling down on a step at a bar, and had to go to Mt Sinai at 4am in tears. Well, it appears as though I may have now chipped a tooth. It doesn't LOOK chipped, but it feels chipped. AWESOME.
Okay back to Law School Applications. Read more
Okay back to Law School Applications. Read more
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