I am NOT a heartless person.

*phew* ok.

A nice, stressfree lunch is exactly what I needed today. After a somewhat frenzied evening of boozing it up at Camus, the uber-hipster bar at The Clarendon Hotel, where oddly enough I started channeling my “inner-Cher” and loudly proclaimed to all patrons in attendance, “I’m a lesbian exposed to nuclear waster – hoaaaaaa”, Sweet tomatoes was just the answer to soothe the savage beast named “Mother Humping Hangover”. (could that have possibly been the LONGEST sentence ever on Metroblogging???)

After creating my Masterpiece Du Jour, complete with grape tomatoes AND mashed eggs, I sat down to start enjoying solid food. My lunch companion (and fellow Hangover Mary) Chris and I were quietly chit chatting about the previous evening. You know, just two Urban Cats, sporting impressively oversized Jackie O-influenced sunglasses and snarkily commenting on the seasonal Chicken Pot Pie and Buttermilk biscuit entree.
All of a sudden, appearing out of nowhere, a well-dressed woman approached our Booth/Sobering Nook.

“Excuse me. You two gentlemen look normal.” *insert snicker here* My car just ran out of gas and I am SO embarrassed I have no cash on me. I NEVER do this, but…do you think you can spare a couple of dollars. Just two. That’s it. I’m so sorry. Augh….this NEVER happens to me – but well, you know…when it rains it pours, I suppose.”

Trying to peer over the tops of my Jackie O’s,(these bad boys are HUGE I’m tellin’ ya), I replied, “Sure. Things like this happen.” I dug into my pocket, shakily (I was still a tad hungover) handing over two George’s. “Spend it all in one place now ya hear!” I added cheerfully reassuring myself that I had, in fact, done the right thing.
Off Gas Lady went, happily clutching her two bills. I had made her day. My heart filled with warm thoughts (or the vodka was finally reaching it – not sure which).

Finishing up our lunch, Chris and I emerged into the warm Arizona sun. Much like in the opening sequence of the Mary Tyler Moore show, I felt like tossing my hat in the air as if to exclaim, “That’s right World! I can take this hangover with a smile and make my day seem worthwhile!”

Suddenly, I turned in the direction of the car and saw…her. Handing cash over to, what appeared to be, her Pimp Daddy. With a wad of cash in his hand, he ordered, “Now, go try over to AJ’s. See what you can get there.”

What was this? A Sting Operation????

I was astonished. Vilified. Peeee-issed!

How DARE she give me this Cock and Bull story about running out of gas! How DARE she play on my sympathy nerve. How DARE she hit me up while I was still oozey. The nerve.

And then..oh yes..the Frosting on the Cake of the Operation – the car: Yeah…a 1990s Black BMW – that was idling WITH the A/C on! Now that’s just a kick in the head. AND it had just been recently purchased – the temporary license was in the back window.

I stood there. Disbelief on my countenance. Thankfully, Chris brought me back into reality.

“Darin. Get in the car. We’ll put The Cowsills CD on and sing “Love, American Style” and everything will be ok.”
I did get in the car and yes, we did place The Cowsills in the CD slot, and yes, we did sing. However, as we drove away, I gave Miss Money Bilker a little Love, American Style of my own.

I flipped her the bird.

ANYHOOS – after a little altercation here at a local establishment in Scottsdale, Ms Habib moved on to Greener Pastures in the News World and left us here in Phoenix with mere memories of her days on Channel 3, The Place With More Stuff.

As luck would have it, those Greener Pastures ended up as Los Angeles. As well as a new name for Ms. Habib. She’s known to the Los Angeles viewers as Liz Warren. Hmmmm….yeah. GOING ON! Now where does all this fit in with a Phoenix entry? Well, let me walk you thru this:

On a recent trip to Los Angeles, a couple of pals and I toodled over to Grauman’s Chinese Theatre to check things out at Hollywood and Highland. You know, it’s where the Kodak Theatre is – as well as where the Famous Cement Prints of all those fabulous stars from yesterday and today are housed. Surprisingly, in addition to the cement blocks of history which are laying around, there are also a myriad of costumed characters who will pose with locals and tourists alike. You know, bringing that good ol’ Hollywood Experience to reality. However, if you don’t tip them or tip the WELL enough, some tend to get a little testy with you. I had such an experience. You can catch the whole story here.

Former local photographer, Emmy Award-winning Kevin Horton whose haunts have included KPHO and PNXV was interviewed by Liz about his experience with one of the characters: Elmo. His haunting recollections seem to have been echoed up and down Hollywood Boulevard and finanlly the HPD came onto the scene and took care of business. Mister Incredible, Scream, and Elmo were all taken down to the Graybar Hotel and booked on Illegal Vending of Services (aka Being a Big Prick to Tourists and smelling like Old Cheese).

During the story, my picture was used to help illustrate the typical scenario of what tourists were subjected to. I may need therapy to get over the whole ordeal. However, if my story will help others get thru the pain and suffering – then my life will have not been in vain.

The report was put on the Wire and shown all over the U.S. Liz, Kevin and I are all Super Stars.

So if you see me on the street, don’t hesitate to come up and ask for an autograph.

I won’t charge you for it…much.

“30 days FREE for all Katrina Victims”

Uhmm….they are here because everything they own…is now gone.

Isn’t that just a little slap in the face?

All of my weekly plans, agendas, routines have been turned around and upside down. It’s amazing at how my life is structured and once that gets a little skewed – how I become somewhat discombobulated. I’ve always thought of myself as a very spontaneous person. However, after these past couple of days, I’ve come to realize that I’m more structured and “set in my ways” than I realized.

Yesterday’s adventures included driving out to Apache Junction to basically “find” some cousins of my mother who live out there. Apache Junction, known to the rest of the Phoenix area as “AJ” sit nestled against the Superstition Mountains. It’s nice, quiet, small, deserty. I have been out there once before in all my five years of living here – and that was enough for me.

This trip was decided upon as Mom, Dad and I were shopping at the Biltmore Shopping Plaza – in the snooty Biltmore district here in Phoenix. It was kinda warmish outside – like…103….and Mom said,

“Hey, let’s go stop by and see Orville and Helen. I’ve got their address. How far is that from here?”

“Where do they live?”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s close.” Thumbing though her address book, she produced a phone number and physical address for the AJ Cousins.

So we stopped by the Apple store at the Biltmore and I Mapquest’d the addy.

“What’s all that brown area?” asked Dad.

“That’s what we locals refer to as Desert Dirt, Pops. Yeah, there’s NOTHING out there.”

My Dad – ever the consummate gentleman – gave me the Rolled Eye – just out of vision of Mom. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

Off we went!

We finally found the place. Classy. It totally reminded me of National Lampoon’s Vacation – when the Grizwold’s stop by Randy Quaid’s pad in the middle of Kansas (or one of the Square States). Fenced in yard, dirt lawn, five dogs running wild, an old rocking swing that was missing the cushion. I tell you – I come from a classy background.

After chatting for about an hour – we were off. And I was starving.

“Let’s just eat out here.” I suggested. “It’ll be good, local color for us.” Everyone agreed. So we set out on the Main Drag in town to find something that would be suitable for dinner.

We opted on a place called Chubby’s.

Yes. I know. The marquee on the outside of the place proudly announced Hair, Beer and Scrapbooking along with the daily special of All You Can Eat Chicken Fried Steak. As we were walking into the smoke-filled 1950’s style dinner, my Dad leaned over to me and whispered, “There HAS to be interesting stories here!” What? Is Dad a Closet Blogger???

The interior of the joint was nicotine stained Navaho White walls complete with flowery drapes that hung carelessly low to each table. Turquoise-painted cowboy boots adorned each table with plastic flowers propped in them. Naugahide blue booths called out to us as if to say, “Come on down, sit a spell…take your shoes off.” We did all that – except the shoes part.

Our waitress, who I nicknamed Flo Casselberry, was more than gracious. She even brought me a side of applesauce – because, in her words I looked as if I were “hunkerin’ for a taste of the sauce.” Perhaps I was. I’m not sure what look that would be….

We ate, joked, laughed and chatted through the entire meal. It was just like old times with my parents. Like when I was younger and the whole family (including my sister) would pile in the 1972 yellow Chevy Truck with Camper and head out across the country on summer vacation. The highlight for me was getting to stop at the Stuckey’s Gas Stations and load up on Fun Books and markers. I checked in the “gift section” at Chubby’s for the coloring books – but alas – they didn’t seem to carry those in the merchandise. Bummer. All I spotted were postcards of cactus and a stuffed roadrunner (fake of course).

As we were leaving the city limits of AJ, mom piped up from the backseat of the rented Toyota corolla and announced, “I feel like an overachiever in this town. I have all my own teeth.”

I cracked up. Oh – Lois Ann – you are a snarky one.

Their flight left today about 2:45pm. I was sad to see them go but glad that a surprise visit was had. I love my parents. They are about the coolest kids I know.

Thanks for the messing up my Daily Schedule. I’m glad you did.

Luckily the wonderful man in the next pump over offered to jump the battery. Jim. Great guy. He drives a super sweet BMW. I’m thinking..ok..this baby will be powered up quick. Opening up the hood, Jim admitted that he had no clue where the battery was located. Heh. That’s funny. So we got out the Owner’s Manual and started thumbing through the index. We came across the index entry. 12-5. Ok…now we’re in business. Yeah. Not so much. The picture looked NOTHING like what we were staring at in real life.

Fortunately, MICK from Champman BMW just happened to be filling up a fleet car and stopped by to see what he could offer up. Mick informed us that the battery for BMW is…in the trunk. WHO KNEW? Clearly not Jim or I! But he said you can jump the car by placing this…here…and that…there.

The VW roared back into life! Mick informed me that he just started school last week on VWs.

I guess my point is this…even though Phoenix is a huge city – there are still TONS of great, helpful people who live here.

I hope I can return the favor one day to someone who needs help.

I officially started my training for the Rock N Roll Marathon today. It’ll be my 4th marathon and I’m looking to improve my time this year – by leaps and bounds. In the past I’ve just kinda trained…not really taking it very seriously. I merely wanted to “get through” and finish without dying. So far – I’ve succeeded.

I put on the ol’ iPod, rolled over to “Running Music” which consists of disco and Broadway. You know – something that has a little kick to it – but doesn’t make me angry. Running through the gayborhood, it was very quiet as most people are are work. Dogs barking and lawn mowers from all the landscaping crews out tidying up all the faggotyhomo’s lawns. A great morning here in Phoenix. I’m not minding the overcast-ness at all!

Without fail, when I get into the “zone” of my run – I stop paying attention to my surroundings – you know – enter into my own Runner’s World which means..I start singing out loud. Heck, I’m on a frikken street and no one should be listening to me. Jive Turkies. I guess I kinda got a little out of control during my set of Helen Reddy tributes as Angie Baby garnered a few honks from passing by cars.

Bringing it down a couple of notches, I finished my run in about 45 minutes. Not bad. But that was only half a mile. Kidding. I was surprised at how much easier it was since I’ve lost about 20 pounds. Who knew that 160 could feel so good?

We’ll see how far I progress in the upcoming weeks. This is REALLY gonna cut into my drinking time.

Last night, as I was curled up on the couch watching Sex and the City on TBS (I’m gay…ok?…leave it alone) the wind started howling. I don’t mean a typical howl – I mean – this humdinger was having the ride of a lifetime. Then the rain started. I swear to heck, I have never, EVER seen rain like this in my life. It was pelting down on the street like bombs raining down on London during the German attack.

Cool. Monsoon is here. I thought to myself. I hope the cable doesn’t go out – I’m really digging this episode. I know, right? I’m all about caring for Humanity. Never once did my thoughts go towards those who are stranded in their cars. The homeless trying to remain somewhat dry. The stray kittycats in the downtown alleys who are running for cover under blue, smelly trash bins. I’ll have to work on that in the future.

The thunder that accompanied this storm was what legendary storms are made of. It was freakin’ loud. It was freakin’ near. It was so close… it was Glenn Close! I can assure you this storm will be on everyone’s lips around the ol’ water cooler today.

But I digress.

SO I’m watching Sex, when all of a sudden, I spy two small water drops on the screen. Interesting. Hmmm. Bo and Elphie were just in here – maybe one of them sneezed and well..you know. They are classy that way. Not thinking much more about it, I continued on with Sex. The Storm of ‘05 wailed on outside. Oh well – it’s just the Monsoon.

*buh doop*buh doop* Something just hit me on my head. HUH? Wha? Looking up at the ceiling I literally screamed. CRIPES! There, above me, was a 6 inch by 4 inch water leak! The rain was coming in the roof! INCREDIBLE. Placing a bucket underneath the drip, I peered outside. HOLY MOLEY. The entire backyard was flooded and the water was standing about 3/4 of an inch high. The dry “riverbed” in the backyard…now a running river.

A call to the insurance company was in order. Giving them all the information that they required and answering all their questions as honestly as I could:

“Sir, has anything valuable in the house been damaged beyond repair? asked the competent Customer Service Agent.

“Just my virginity….but I don’t suppose you cover that?” I asked.

“No, sir. The policy does not cover that. However, in the future, you may want to check with Lloyd’s of London regarding that issue.” she snarked back at me. Well. I like you. Let’s get martoonies next time you’re in town.

After about 45 minutes, the Storm let up for most the part. The drip subsided. And everything was calm.

The insurance adjuster is to be coming out today and inspecting the damage. To be honest, there isn’t much. It’s had to see where the drip was coming from since it’s all dried up now. Perhaps he’ll be hot – and well, you know. A love interest thing will develop. Sh’yeah. Right.

Lesson learned: Never scoff at the misfortunes of others – even if they are blogged about. You never know when it may happen to you.

PS: Thank God for Sex and The City DVDs – I totally missed BOTH episodes last night.

I love electricity.

I don’t love rain when there’s no electricity.

Odd, no?

My name is Darin.

And I am a Blogger.

I’ve had my own blog for about 6 months now – but just recently started to take it somewhat seriously. I mean, yeah sure, I’ve posted alot on there but never really thought much about it. Do people actually read my musings? I guess so – since they left snarky comments which clearly were shameless attempts to get me to Blog more. I obliged.

NOw that it’s hottern snot outside, I find myself enjoying the A/C more and more – allowing time for my Blogging Habit to increase at an alarming rate. So much in fact, that I can’t seem to go out to a bar without someone coming up and asking, “Hey…aren’t you Darin..from All Preparation and NO H?”

Guilty. I am. Thanks for asking – and please – don’t stop reading!

I’ve lived in Phoenix for about 5 years now. Yeah, in addition to being a Blogger – I’m also a transplant to the Valley. Whodathunkit? Before Phoenix, Honolulu was my place of residence. I know..I know..why move to Phoenix? I get that question all the time. And all I can say is…well…Phoenix just has the certain je ne sais quoi quality about it. It’s big, flat, deserty, cactusy, gridy, pink underwearsy (thanks Joe!) and all around fun. All this attracted me as well as a job transfer and a Significant Other. Ironically, I am no longer suffering with that job or with that Significant Other. A Win/Win on both sides! Go ME!

However, I still have my Phoenix.

Over the past few years I have grown to appreciate the following:

The 84 year old Winter Visitors who feel the need to join in the morning commute on the 202 in the HUGEASS Winnies. Uhm..really..honest..if you waited until 8:45am – the 51/202/10 Hecktobottleneckmess clears out nicely. Trust me. I know this.

I celebrate Freeway Closures for Rubberization.

I am amazed at how slow the Airport Rental Car Arena is progressing and yet the 60 has been widened what…say..4 times…in the same time span?

I giggle at the Governor when she says she’s not lesbian and claims not to know what GLBT stands for. Sweetie..please. If the Birkenstocks fit…slip into a pair. (and don’t forget the flanel!)

I smirk when The Arizona Republic prides itself on being the Voice of Arizona – and yet daily circulation is declining. Sue Clark-Johnson are you reading this? HI POODLE!

I love Phoenix – but like most single 30somethings, I’m not sure where I’ll eventually call home but for right now it’s here. And I’m planning on making the most of it.

And why not? It’s really just a dry heat. Honest.

Now….where’d I put my margarita?