the ocean

Did I mention that we're going to Tampa for a short break soon? Well, we've actually discussed rebranding it as a a trip to Sarasota, but at the end of the day our airport code is TPA. (I note that it is an international airport, though, so I shall treat it as the Paris of Florida.)

What motivated this trip? Principally I would have to say having flight credits from our COVID-cancelled trip to Mexico. Also hating Chicago winter, to be sure. Should I pretend I've heard they've got a thriving alternative music scene or something? Mainly I just want to lie in the sun.

Fun facts about Tampa, per Wikipedia:

-- In the early 1900s, Tampa was considered "The Cigar Capital of the World," although there is shockingly little information on what other cities vied for that esteemed title.

-- The highest point in the city is only 48 feet (15 m) above sea level, which kind of blows all the mountaineering plans I made for the weekend.

-- The only snowfall officially recorded in Tampa occurred on January 19, 1977, with local accumulations ranging between a trace and 0.2 inches (0.5 cm). If time travel is invented while we're there, I'm definitely going back to that day just to fuck with people.

-- Most of Tampa's high rises demonstrate post-modern architecture, which I assume is a euphemism for "whatever makes developers the most money."

-- Overall, Tampa is 50th out of the largest 51 metropolitan area in the percentage of the populace that attends religious services of any kind, with less than 35% of the population regularly attending services. Mainly I just want to know why they decided on a sample of 51 metropolitan areas; were they really just itching to stick it to Portland, OR as #51?

-- Companies headquartered in Tampa include Greenway Health, College Hunks Hauling Junk, Arturo Fuente, J.C. Newman Cigar Company, Masonite International, Sykes Enterprises, Cott Corporation, The Melting Pot, Checkers and Rally's, and The Mosaic Company. So if you want to get an MRI while paying strangers to move your glass tiles and grout, it might be the place for you!

Another fun fact about Tampa, per me: my iPhone really wants to autocorrect it to tampon. Which seems like a branding issue, to be honest.

Anyway, we're going! Sometimes going places is better than not, so here's hoping.

I'm not one to "pile on" to criticism, unless Sarah Jessica Parker is involved, but I do have to say these winter Olympics have been hard to unreservedly enjoy. As regular reader(s?) of this blog know, I love Olympic weirdness, like sports no one cares about the other three years and fifty weeks of each four-year period and human interest stories about athletes whose parents died in combine accidents or something. But you know what I don't love? People who make bizarre claims that they accidentally ingested performance-enhancing drugs by sharing a glass with someone, which strikes me as roughly equivalent to the "pregnant from a toilet seat" theory. You know what I also don't love? Having the only live footage be late at night and early in the morning, when it conflicts with my Murder, She Wrote reruns. I am perhaps the least spoiler-averse person I know, but even I don't see much point in watching a curling match at 2 PM when the outcome is a foregone conclusion. Unlike with a Murder, She Wrote rerun, since those frequently change on a second or third viewing. I think they're still adding new footage.

Which is not to say there haven't been some good aspects. I find it very therapeutic to watch people snowboard or ski over strange obstacles, which I can't help but view as kind of a metaphor for life. And it kind of makes me feel hopeful to see people enjoying themselves in such cold temperatures, since that has not really been my experience of things once I passed the age of sledding down the hill by our house until near the point of gangrene. Also, I like the Olympic mascot. Yes, I assume he is a communist, but he is still a panda, and they are cute, although deadly as I understand it. There are always tradeoffs in life.

I've just rescheduled my show that was supposed to debut on March 17, 2020, otherwise known as the week lockdowns hit Chicago. So if we end up with another round of global disaster prior to April 3, 2022, we'll know this whole thing was my fault. 

I will admit that I did initially take the first cancellation rather personally, as though the waves of severe illness and death worldwide were just an elaborate plot to derail my promising performance career. Sort of like when Willa Ford blamed 9/11 for the failure of her musical efforts subsequent to "I Wanna Be Bad." I mean, maybe? But also, like, maybe the pitch of "like Britney, Christina, Ashlee Simpson, Mandy Moore, and the rest, but hornier" wasn't destined to have staying power regardless of Osama and company? But as it turned out, several months at home with limited human contact were a pretty good reality check. And not just a great opportunity to try and fail at bangs. Anyway, I shelved my impending stardom in the interest of, like, not killing people by convincing them to watch me sing song parodies where I rhyme various things with "balls."

But now the case counts are dropping and, let's face it, people are doing much stupider things than spending an hour at my cabaret show. (I mean, Lollapalooza happened, and somehow did not herald then end of mankind, just civilization, as usual.) So if you're in the area and so inclined, I'm doing a thing: