Happy Thanksgiving!

Mmmmm. Turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, veggies, gravy, biscuits, gorging myself until I waddle: these are only a few of the things that I miss about not being back home today.

Instead, I stopped by the post office this morning to ship some stuff home. I've used post offices around the world for years. Friends and family are postal workers. They're not all Newmans. Hell, I haven't seen anything like that in real life.

Then there was today.

In the UK, the royal postal service does more than just deliver mail. They also exchange currency, sell insurance, etc... I saw this gentlemen in the post office earlier in the week. Maybe I was a little short with him, when I said that I wasn't interested in getting flat insurance or holiday insurance. I have no idea. All I know is that I saw him again today, as I was going about my daily post office business:

• Find the box that I need
• Put in my books, clothes, stuffed animals, board/card games, whatnot
• Put in clothes, whatnot to pad it out
• Address the box
• Secure it
• Cart it over to the big scale to figure out the weight to save time
• Cart it over to the queue to wait to be called to a window
• Sign, pay and out the door

That sounds simple enough. I've got it down by this time.

Or at least that's what I'd think. The guy made me schlep back to the big scale to re-weigh things while he watched (because nothing helps the customer experience than to feel that you're being accused to lying), schlep back to the window and go over every piece of the paperwork to be positive that they were all filled out correctly. It took forever.

That said, he was also as anal-retentive with my package. He took time to tape up all the edges for me to be sure there would be no problems with anything getting inside.

Gay Paree

I know that it's called Gay Paree, but did they have to make the Eiffel Tower look like a gay bar? (And if anyone knows how to rotate the damned video, I would be most appreciative.)

Reaper Review

I had been waiting for this show to come to iTunes, so I could finally get a gander at it. Kevin Smith mentioned it when he was here in London for one of his "An Evening with..." monologue and Q&A sessions.

The early reviews that I heard about it were pretty solid. And it's got Ray Wise, who I've loved since seeing him on Twin Peaks.

I got all the episodes so far and just laughed my ass off. The premise is a little silly, Sam (the titular character) works at the equivalent of Home Depot and seems to be going nowhere with his life. It starts off on his 21st birthday and, as any writing teacher recommends, right in the heart of things.

That's the day that he finds out that his soul was sold to the devil by his parents. And that's the day that he meets the devil himself. The devil (played by Ray Wise) is smarmily perfect as a hands-on manager/mentor/tormentor. Sam is now a bounty hunter for the devil, chasing down lost souls for Satan and returning them to hell.

The shows are a bit formulaic with monsters of the week, but what makes the show stand apart is the light-hearted camaraderie between the main characters: Sam and his best friends, 'Sock' and Ben.

Enjoy the ride.

Another Tale from the Dating Pool...

Just before Halloween, I had a date with a nice guy. He was a working medium and talked a bit about how the spirits share information with him and about the differences between clairvoyance, clairaudience, and the other extra-normal senses. He talked about himself a lot, but I chalked that up to nerves or something.

He finally got back to me a week or so after I said that I had fun and looked forward to another coffee date or something. Unfortunately, he didn't think we had any chemistry.

I'm not sure whether I should be happy or annoyed that someone that speaks with the dead doesn't have any chemistry with me.

Things I Learned In Paris...

I'll be posting more once I upload the pictures from the camera, but here's a few of the random thoughts.

• Talking louder and more slowly doesn't make what you're saying any more comprehensible.
• Prefacing it with 'how you say....' in a French accent also doesn't help.
• Miming things does work, interpretive dance doesn't. (Which surprised me, because I thought that left leg, right leg, butt wiggle, head cluck and arm flap was the International dance for I'd rather the chicken than the veal.)
• Tourist hotels trade online reservations as easily as grade school kids trade baseball cards. I had two different hotels in the two nights that I stayed in Paris.
  
• The French clearly have a different idea about bathroom plumbing than we do. (The first hotel had a tub with a shower attachment about a foot above the top of the tub—roughly below waist level for me. The second hotel looked like a normal shower until I turned on the water and the shower head flipped up from the force of the water and sprayed over my head, drenching the towels on the rack behind me.)
  

And now Mesmo loves you, too...

I always love weird viral marketing or oddball posters.