Susan's Scribblings the Blog

A writer from the Philadelphia area shares the week online.
Susan's Scribblings the Blog
  • Who the Heck is Kayewer?
  • Monthly Archives: September 2013

    • What’s With These Guys?

      Posted at 2:21 am by kayewer, on September 29, 2013

      I have some great women friends, but many of them seem to have the same problems in common: with men.  Sure, some are happily married, and I’m thrilled for them, but I know so many who have gone through multiple marriages or messy marriages and/or divorces, and I wonder if I lucked out by being a contender for the woman with the longest unlucky streak in the world when it comes to the opposite sex.

      I think it might be better to join a convent than deal with some of the card-carrying members of the Testosterone League out there.  Some of the best-dressed men I’ve encountered seem too full of themselves to consider as a potential date.  Some of the casually dressed ones seem too obsessed with jobs and money earning to want to date, and those with the beer bellies the size of pregnancy bumps usually take themselves out of the running just be being disgusting (as if being fat is a license to belch, cuss and act barbaric).

      Now before anybody writes in and take umbrage, let me make it clear that I am well aware that decent men of all three types I’ve described above are actually out there and likely looking for love, too.  Unfortunately we are both in the wrong places, because I haven’t seen you yet.

      On the season’s first episode of the CBS show “Undercover Boss,” Randy DeWitt, the CEO of a restaurant chain called Twin Peaks–another idea in line with the Hooters concept (and in partnership with that place’s former CEO Coby Brooks, who was also a former show participant)–heard directly from his staff that his concept of staying within the limits of decency in a sexy dress-up food joint didn’t always work as planned.  For example, the patrons can sometimes cross the line when they come to see the slim, curvy and abundantly busty women in tight clothing serving them beer, and a performance ranking system designed to empower the women to do well and earn privileges such as the best tables to wait upon was actually abused by the male senior staff. The undercover CEO actually brought in his Hooters buddy to test the waters, shaving his head and arriving disguised as a patron to harass his bartender and see what would happen.  Fortunately it did make the staff and other patrons uncomfortable, and the owner asked him to leave.  What I don’t understand is why this whole concept of letting women be pretty in a customer service environment makes some men think that it’s permitting them to be jerks.

      Men seem to like pretty women, but then they go about destroying what makes them pretty.  They grab, they paw, they aim their hands and potty mouths for where it will do the most damage. As humans we stink in the way we destroy what we love, but this whole affair with denigrating women has to stop.

      Some places go way overboard, shrouding women in head-to-toe cover-ups to lessen the urge.  Some places have succeeded in allowing topless bathing without having a flood of newscasts about women being inappropriately handled while getting the best tan. Somewhere in the middle of it is the solution to the problem, and men need to take a step back and find out what it is. We women will thank them for it.

      For one thing, we are more than two chest appendages, just as you men are actually more than the appendage further down the torso.  Second, if you admire us for looking nice, leave it at that: don’t invade our space and put your grubby hands where they don’t belong (at least not until after the first date or so).  Third, if we don’t look like that centerfold model, it’s probably because we didn’t have makeup artists and dressers and highly trained cameramen making us that way: besides, when those models go home, they wear tee shirts and jeans just like you do, and the smoky eyes and pouty lavender lips are smeared all over a cotton ball in the trashcan.

      Let’s all look nice, be nice and get along. Appreciate what is good and suck it up when things aren’t going as planned.  There is always something new coming up, but the kind of loyalty to what you already have is more valuable. We’re just too fickle a generation anymore.  But that can be changed.

       

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    • Euro (And More) Part Two

      Posted at 12:46 am by kayewer, on September 23, 2013

      To quote William Conrad in “Bullwinkle:” last time if you remember, I was ranting about a Euro coin I received as change and was having trouble getting rid of it.  Well, I was in New York City yesterday, and figured I could try some of the international currency exchange venues there to see if I could get something for it.  I was hoping at least for some sympathy or advice, and I went to three different facilities (one in a gift shop), and they all looked at me with that combination of world-weariness and pity that comes from a story they have heard before and for which they have no solution.  The problem is that no place takes coins for conversion, because they take commission for exchanging bills and paper currency, so one Euro coin is not worth their trouble.  It’s not even worth an iota of human kindness.  Two places suggested I keep it for a souvenir.

      A souvenir of what? incompetence? My own lack of attention to what change I should have been given honestly and in good faith? Were they trying to shame me or make fun?

      So here I am, in the United States of America, where people throw money away on the latest gadgets and alcohol and cigarettes they pee away or stub out when finished with them. America, where the penny is left on the asphalt in parking lots.  I should know better than to think anybody would put any notice of my stinking’ Euro. It’s MONEY, damn it!  Money!

      It’s infuriating that one coin isn’t worth time and effort.  I will hang onto it, but not as a souvenir.  I intend to exchange the blasted thing if it takes me a year or more.  It is money, after all: change which would still have been of use to me did it not come from across the sea to inconvenience some store’s cash register to the point at which it was passed to me as the designated schmuck. So if you’re going overseas and would like a Euro coin, let me know.

      Well, my visit to New York was not solely to get rid of the coin.  I went to the theatre for a second dose of a beloved show (performed by a beloved singer) and had a great time (more on that in the next blog: I’m not going to rant and then try to perk up the same story, so each gets its own spot). Women everywhere know that the best way to revive a day that starts out bad is to work up from the bottom, so I did the disappointing thing first, then saw the show and gave my hormones and spirit a good workout, then I went for some comfort food.

      I visited the Cake Boss Cafe, TLC television personality and bakery owner Buddy Valastro’s latest venture to put an extension of his famous Carlo’s Bakery within the grasp of everybody.  The bakery is at the corner of the Port Authority Bus Terminal, and I stopped there on the way to serving a stretch of prolonged standing for the Greyhound out of town. Perfect place to stop, so you can grab a bite to eat before you get home, and you don’t have to tell the family (just make sure you don’t have cream or powdered sugar on you anywhere).

      The bakery runs like your mom-and-pop anywhere in the country: take a number from the red dispenser of pointy-shaped tickets and wait to be called.  I was twelfth in line, and it moved fast.  Unfortunately the after-matinee crowd on a Saturday evening had snatched up the famous lobster tail pastries, but I did get my hands on Napoleons, which not many bakeries seem to do anymore.  Next time, it’ll be the cheesecake, or the cookies, or cannolis.  I lost a ton of drool just standing there waiting. It is a place well worth a visit and some expenditure for good pastry.  Next time I hope they double their production on those lobster tails and save some for me.

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      Posted in Uncategorized | 1 Comment | Tagged Cake Boss Cafe New York City, currency exchange, euro coins
    • Euro Row Row Your Boat

      Posted at 2:55 am by kayewer, on September 15, 2013

      I have a useless item in my purse. Some of you may be laughing and nodding your heads knowingly, because most of us ladies have stuff in our purses we’d like to ditch but can’t do without, but this is a bit of a puzzler.

      You see, a clerk at the grocer gave me some change a few weeks ago, and when I got home and took the change out of my pockets, I realized I was given what looked like a bus token. I wasn’t mad: tokens get bus rides on SEPTA when I go to Philadelphia.  This didn’t quite look like one of those, though, so I examined it more closely.  Maybe it was an arcade token, in which case I would have felt really ripped off.  Turns out the enterprising doofus had slipped me a Euro coin.

      Dutifully I took it to the bank and handed it to the lady behind the counter, who eyed it as if it had mold spores on it.  They couldn’t do anything with it, she said: even a woman at the customer service desk added her two cents (pun intended), saying they didn’t deal with foreign currency.  But it’s in use in a ton of foreign countries, I argued: surely it is worth something here.  Go to a federal bank, they said.

      Somebody told me the coin is probably worth about three to four times what a quarter would have been.  As soon as I can get to a federal bank with hours during which I can actually go there, I’ll let you know if I can get rid of the thing.  One thing certain: if it is worth more than a quarter, I certainly won’t pawn it off on somebody else. I want the “interest” for pain and suffering, since it (unlike American Express) is not accepted everywhere.

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    • Hair is a Story

      Posted at 3:10 am by kayewer, on September 8, 2013

      I took my mother to a hair appointment, and in the adjoining chair was a youngster getting his first haircut.  His mother and sprightly younger sister of, I would guess, four years of age, was gamely watching along with the proud father.  The mother took the chair and sat her son with her.  He didn’t wriggle too much at all, nor did he cry.  By the end of the event he was quite a handsome fellow, bound to break hearts in daycare.

      Looking at my mother in the other chair, having her white and fragile tresses combed out, I saw time passing between two souls: one getting the first haircut while the other experiences from appointment to appointment what may be the last before passing into an existence beyond rollers and sprays and gaily appointed pneumatic styling chairs.

      Simple moments such as these are what make daily life more poignant.

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      Posted in Uncategorized | 0 Comments | Tagged bably's first haircut
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