Good Grief!

Have I mentioned lately how great it is that the Lititz Record Express is online (and RSS-ified) after all these years? Some recent commentary:

While walking home from the linear park this week I nearly collided headlong with a discarded, individually wrapped pat of butter. This innocent little representative of dairy grandeur had been violently slammed against the cold and unforgiving concrete sidewalk that borders Lititz United Methodist Church…Apparently, someone was very angry, and as a result, a promising pat’s life was snuffed out in brutal fashion.

Last week, Whitebait tagged me for the “meme of four” that’s been going around. It’s a dilemma. As someone who was always picked last for the kickball team, I appreciate getting tagged; however, I’m not big on memes. Therefore, I present a consolidated meme, narrowed down to one question: name four jobs you’ve had in your life.

1. Bus person at the General Sutter Inn in Lititz, PA
2. Monorail operator, train driver, and general all-around ride jockey at Lancaster’s Dutch Wonderland
3. Inspector #71 and clothes scanner at the QVC returns warehouse in Lancaster, PA
4. Evening proofreader at a printing company in Lancaster, PA

I applied for the General Sutter job at the request of my high school friend Loopey J, who thought it would be totally cool if we, like, worked together. Without informing my parents, I walked down to Lititz’s oldest fine dining establishment, filled out an application, and was immediately offered a job by Drunky and Uptight V, the couple who then owned the restaurant/inn.

Drunky V had some serious alcohol issues. He started each dinner shift reasonably sober but usually had a stumble to his step by the time we were resetting the last table. Unfortunately, his impaired gait wasn’t the only clue that he’d spent too much time up at the bar; by nine or ten o’clock he would begin standing extremely and uncomfortably close to any female staff unfortunate enough to cross his path, and the smell of booze was unmistakable, even to someone as naive as I was. But the worst part about Drunky J at the end of the night was his habit of walking the birds.

Uptight V loved birds. She decorated the Inn’s coffee shop with empty birdcages and bird wallpaper that featured huge, terrifying–possibly carnivorous–indigo birds with eyes that followed innocent buspeople all around the room as we folded napkins and prepared for the dinner crowd. Three steps above the coffee shop was the Inn’s main lobby, which also featured birdcages. Except that the lobby’s birdcages contained real birds. Loud, squawking, dirty little monsters who lived disturbingly close to the main dining room. The only hope they had for a change of scenery was at the end of each evening, when Drunky V grabbed one from among their ranks, perched the chosen creature on his shoulder, and paced from the lobby to the bus station to the bar to the kitchen and then back again, over and over. By the third or fourth loop of this ritual, the back of Drunky V’s jacket was invariably covered with bird excrement.

Despite the escapades of Drunky V, it was a good year at the General Sutter Inn. As Loopey J predicted, it was totally cool to work together. We snuck downstairs and bought Benson and Hedges from the cigarette machine, hiding them in a doggie bag that read “Becky and J’s–DO NOT TOUCH.” Naturally, the head busperson found our stash, even though we’d hidden it on top of the coffee machine, and laughed her ass off at two silly high school juniors who smoked Benson and Hedges on the sly. On slow nights we went out back to hang with the cooks, who sat on the hood of an El Camino and alternated between treating us as comrades in the war against Drunky V and threatening to dunk us head-first into the fat barrel. Luckily, Unstoppable B, the shrewd and streetwise senior server and fifteen-year General Sutter veteran, was usually there to defend us against cooks, head buspeople, and inebriated proprietors.

Thanks, Whitebait, for inspiring this walk down memory lane. Those who did not like this walk down memory lane should feel free to e-mail complaints to Whitebait.

I should also mention that Drunky and Uptight V sold the General Sutter Inn many years ago. The birds are gone.

Good Grief, did someone take my Jesus flogging photo and turn it into an animated gif?

Last year I posted The Life of Jesus in Christmas Lights, photos from a truly bizarre neighborhood holiday light display. Every year some folks in Blue Springs, MO use the medium of lights to tell the Christmas story. And the Easter story.

I am happy to report that my coverage of this exhibition has brought Blue Springs the recognition it deserves: the number one spot on the 12 days of Kitchmas.

At least in Blue Springs, Missouri, they’ve gone beyond the usual fare. Passing motorists are invited to rubberneck the blood-soaked scourging of Christ – a Mel Gibson-inspired Bible belting of truly epic proportions. Like it or loathe it, it’s a discussion starter and earns this year’s top award.

The Jesus lights beat out the likes of the Miracle Wheel and some faith poker chips, so that’s a pretty big honor.

The Life of Jesus in Christmas Lights is now on Flickr, complete with bonus shepherds and patriotic finale.

Very busy on super-secret skunk works project! In summary:

• 2005 Animation Show: not as good as the 2004 version. Don Hertzfeldt is possibly losing his mind and should return to the days of Billy’s Balloon. My favorite piece was Jonathan Nix’s Hello, It’s online, and it’s worth 10 minutes of your time.
• Complain about cooking, and the bloggers deliver. After following the link to Estelle’s food weblog, Luna made the vanilla cake recipe and delivered half of it to the office for Scott and me to sample. Delicious!
• Clumsy Lovers: best show I’ve seen in a long time, even though it was at the Tin Angel. The Clumsy Lovers are a Canadian countryish rockish band with a lot of energy and funny shirts (see above).
• Boss-across-the-hall is coming to campus this week, and we are having lunch. No doubt he will tell me how the soulless office park has fallen to pieces since I left and will beg me to return.
• Still working on a half bushel of Stayman Winesap picked at Linvalla Orchards: apple bread, apple pancakes, apple and sweet potato casserole, baked apple. What else?
• Type E reports that the celebratory Ben Franklin special ale is now on draft at the Yards tasting room. His verdict: “interesting, but I wouldn’t pay for it.”

Lastly, thanks to people who have e-mailed because they saw Lititz in the news. Lititz, where shoe man sits and the fire department rescues ducks from the sewer and the big crime is vandalizing a lion’s head carved into the park wall. Not so anymore, if it ever was.

Philadelphians are having a bad time with the ongoing transit strike (which by the way still isn’t making my butt look smaller, perhaps because the walk from University City to Fishtown contains obstacles such as bakeries, bars, and one or two Auntie Anne’s pretzel franchises).

But did you know that a far more devastating event is happening in Pennsylvania? The Lititz, PA Freeze and Frizz is closing. And do you know who’s closing it? A group of local Brethrens, which has apparently become an “insensitive industrial monster.” Someone must reign in these Brethrens, lest they creep eastward into Philadelphia.

And speaking of Philadelphia again, I would like to extend an invitation to SEPTA management and union officials. Drop by my house tomorrow afternoon, and we’ll have some drinks. No pressure to negotiate—just good beer and good conversation and maybe some cookies. Seriously, my cookies are pretty good, maybe even good enough to be a uniting force.

Finally, the 2005 Animation Show is coming to Philadelphia. And by Philadelphia I mean the ‘burbs, but you have to take what you can get:

• Monday, November 7th: Doylestown, County Theater
• Wednesday, November 9th: Bryn Mawr
• Thursday, November 10th: Ambler

All shows are at 7 PM, and as far as I know, these theaters are accessible by SEPTA regional rail. The Animation Show is Mike Judge and Don Hertzfeldt’s continuation of various animated shorts festivals (e.g., Spike and Mike) and is a great way to see everything from “forgotten classics to the very latest in computer animation.” Usually there’s one horrible short, several pretty good pieces, and one or two outstanding pieces that make the trip worthwhile. Not that a trip to beautiful downtown Bryn Mawr isn’t always worthwhile.*

The website has the complete program and links to the individual animators.

UPDATE: The Animation Show was one of last week’s City Paper Screen Picks. Can’t wait until Wednesday night!

*I used to live on the Main Line, and sometimes it’s like another planet. Like when I had to help a woman in a fur coat pump her own gas. And just last weekend, I overheard the following conversation in a Wayne coffee shop:

Barista 1: I never heard of them!

Barista 2: I just tried them, they’re awesome!

Barista 2: They’re hotdogs wrapped in bread.

Barista 2: They’re called pigs in a blanket!

Clair, resident Good Grief! heckler, asks about last week’s Gumby posts and wonders was I really out of town? Well, yeah, unless you know of a Philly In-N-Out Burger with palm trees in the parking lot.

I was lucky enough to attend a Macromedia convention in Anaheim with about a dozen of my new, super-secret coworkers. Some of those geeks actually blogged about the business part of this business trip, but would I do that to you? Instead, a tragic tale about a humiliating Beverly Hills bathroom.

On the Sunday prior to the convention, seven of us piled into a hideously obnoxious Yukon for a day of touring organized by super-secret coworker Dan, who clawed his way out of a Los Angeles ghetto to attend school here in Philly. The agenda was action-packed:

1. Venice Beach. Like Philadelphia’s South Street, except with an ocean view.
2. Malibu tidal pools. The best part of the tour, despite Gumby’s narrow escape from the clutches of a nefarious sea anemone.
3. Lunch at Gladstones, a seafood restaurant. The mashed potatoes are highly recommended.
4. Sunset Boulevard all the way into downtown Los Angeles. Sprawl, big houses, and the club where River Phoenix died.
5. Beverly Hills and Rodeo Drive. I got sort-of kicked out of a store. Big Mistake!
6. Hollywood Boulevard. Freaks, freaks, and more freaks.
7. Delicious margaritas and guacamole at a downtown Mexican restaurant where parts of Wag the Dog were shot.

By the time we got to activity 5, activity 3 was kicking in, and several of us needed to find a restroom. I followed some of my female coworkers into the Beverly Wilshire, looking around to make sure Hector Elizondo wasn’t lurking behind a pillar, ready to kick us out. As expected, the Wilshire lobby restroom is posh: lounge area, good lotion, and thick, wooden stall doors that stretch from floor to ceiling.

After taking care of business, however, I was shocked to discover that my stall was out of toilet paper. My fault, really, for being an amateur and not checking the supply first, but aren’t fancy hotels supposed to keep well-stocked restrooms for the benefit of people who sneak in off the street? The wooden stall door that had been so attractive a few minutes prior was now a menace, muffling my calls for help. I had no choice but to open the door—this is a family blog, so I won’t dwell on the logistics of this operation—and call out to my coworkers, who were by this time tidying up in the lounge.

Or maybe the buggy driver escaped via rollerblade. Thanks to Moon Pappy for scanning this article from the Lancaster New Era.