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The Most Evil Toilet

September 1, 2010 – 8:30 pm

While in Japan I had my first ever experience with what I’ve come to call the “Robo-Loo”. Much like everything else there, it was very much shorter than the standard toilets I’m used to but it was beige, felt plastic (not porcelain), and had a control panel on the side with symbols – not the kind that tell you “danger” or “push to summon Godzilla” just kanji. I knew this was going to be a spiteful hate filled relationship the moment I laid eyes on it.

When nature finally called (and after that food and water, it was a violent call to arms) I rise from my hotel bed and go and have a seat. I stood back up and almost pulled a Tabby[1]. When I sat down a grinding noise happened, vibrations shot through my butt cheeks, and water started to flow into the bowl. No one warned me that I’d be getting an ass massage. I’m pretty military about that business – it’s in, out, done, all in less than 2 minutes. No use in hanging out in bathrooms when I could be doing something else. It’s not a time for me to relax, read a book, phone a friend, play games on my blackberry, or do anything but produce waste, clean myself, wash my hands, and leave. Done and done – and this was complicating things.

After a few seconds when the vibrations stopped my ass started to get hot… pet peeve number two (ha, pun) is I hate (as much as wet socks) having a warm toilet seat. It makes me feel like some ass has recently been there and the germs are still fresh. I don’t know – it’s just weird. So now this plastic toilet that just shook my ass is trying to heat it. I’m not pleased, but even for me 15 seconds isn’t enough – so I endure.

Fast forward 90 seconds and I’m done, I go to get up but see an interesting button that to me was “off” – like “turn off all weird J-Toilet functions and just leave me alone” – it was not. It was “shoot a jet of water in my ass and watch me act like a cat who has just been hit with a squirt gun. Allow me to set the scene. This bathroom is tiny – I can walk in the door (which is up a step) and it’s like walking into a camper bathroom – everything is premolded and plastic – my arms (and I’m only 5’8″) can touch from wall to wall in both directions – it was claustrophobic at best. What happens to me? Well as this jet of luke warm water hits my cheeks and I stand up like I’m being attacked by a tentacle monster (which in my mind isn’t far fetched in Japan) and start to stumble forward with my boxers around my ankles I trip out of the door and catch myself on the wall with a very loud “THUD”. I’m trying to diagnose what happened (after all, it’s after 11:00 at night and my body is out of whack from the time zone changes – I was exhausted) to me – my phone rings. I haven’t yet finished the process (though my ass was wet) so I waddled over to the phone (why didn’t I take the boxers off? Who knows) and in very broken English the night attendant in the lobby wanted to know if everything was alright.

How the hell would she know if something was amiss? My first though – toilet cam. I was having a mild stroke that this lady just watched what happened from a very weird angle. Turns out she said someone (I’m assuming the neighboring room) called and was concerned because of a loud sudden noise.

I wanted to explain to her about the jet of water on my ass and how it startled me and that I tripped over my own undergarment and nearly fell through the wall because I didn’t have enough room to catch my balance. I didn’t. I said I over packed my suitcase and had it in the top of the closet and it slipped when I tried to pull it down. No way in hell I was going to tell her the truth that I’m still there naked (except for my ankles), unclean, embarrassed, and angry at Robo-Loo for being a dick. Once she believed me (or didn’t – she just wanted to make sure there was no dead gaijin in her room) and let me off the phone I had to go finish.

Wet toilet paper is fucking awful, just fyi.

I go to flush and the water only trickles. Great. I’m fucking OCD about flushed toilets. None of this “yellow let it mellow” shit (ha, pun) – it’s waste and needs to be gone. After 3 minutes of repeated flush attempts I feel the handle start to gain resistance after each flush – I have to pump it like a well handle to get enough water in and the “big suck” (no whirl, just suck) to make everything go away (except my wounded pride and moist ass). Apparently, after some subtle investigations – you have to sit on the pot long enough for the proper water to trickle in – apparently I was on long enough for a woman to 1/2 way pee or something, else you have to manually load the water.

So I never did push any of the other 11 buttons – I’m sure one summoned a real tentacle monster and one would summon Pedobear to go loli hunting – so I didn’t bother – but I did end up sitting on the toilet (that warm plastic vibrating bastard) so that the water would go to appropriate levels.

Seriously Japan, first it’s my feet – then it’s my ass… why couldn’t you just hate my face and make me wear a wrestlers mask or something?

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By kxpx | Posted in RKDC Blog | Tagged evil, humor, japan, toilet, travel | Comments (1)

Oh no! You have the gay! Get out!

August 25, 2010 – 4:05 am

It’s very typical behavior for me to take a sideline “wait and see” approach with most hot topics in the media. It’s my opinion that each side will argue their point with bias and that the media will cover it with whatever slant it wants. Over time a more balanced picture is painted with good and bad from both sides (or however many sides exist) of a particular issue. Once the facts are presented in that way I feel I can make a more informed decision.

One hot button that’s not really recent but that’s getting quite a bit of coverage is that the church groups are openly campaigning against gay couples. Evangelizing in front of their homes, their workplaces, or even at military funerals. Since when did Jesus say it was okay to be a bigot? Do the teachings of the New Testament mean nothing to these “Christians”? Why do they crusade against this but never against domestic violence? Rapists? Murderers?

Church groups will visit a murderer in prison to save his soul from his sins before he dies – but they won’t be civil to someone who’s only crime is a same sex relationship?

I don’t see any of you “saved by law” folks out there admonishing people for eating shellfish. I don’t see any of you kicking your wives out of your village for being “unclean”. I don’t see any of you offering your fatted calf up to the Lord as a sacrifice. Why, then, would you continue to try and punish these people? Why keep condoning and casting judgment? It is not your place or mine to judge other human beings or punish them for perceived crimes against God. I’m pretty sure he can handle himself.

Why no outrage over child molestation within the Catholic church? Why no strong outrage against these ministers who get caught with gay lovers? Why is your message of hate so strong toward this one particular demographic? Your job as men and women into the cloth is to save souls, bring in the lost sheep to the flock, and preach the gospel – you know, in the spirit of Jesus.

You can have your opinions but when your personal feelings of hate begin to alter the message of love that Jesus preached you’re simply turning more and more people away from God. You people are held to higher standards in the eyes of the Lord yet you act like the Pharisees that Jesus so often preached against. Not only are you turning people away from God but you’re making it harder on the rest of us. I am not ashamed of what I believe but now, thanks to the televangelists and hatemongers, I’m grouped into either being a nut job or hate anything or anyone that doesn’t share my beliefs.

Letting your children hold signs that says “God Hates Fags” – are you serious? You’re instilling hate generation after generation, you’re giving fellowship in general a bad name because “normal” people don’t associate with hatemongering assholes. Instead of a unified church movement it will stand further divided and each will continue to preach based off agenda and that truly breaks my heart. There is a beautiful message in the Word that is being lost and never told to the people that need to hear it. A message of love and peace in this day and age is what’s called for rather than further conflict and strife.

Your message causes hate crimes in the name of God.
Your message causes abortion clinics to be bombed, innocent people killed.
Your message causes segregation among the flock.
Your message causes people to walk away from the church.

What good are you doing out there in the world? What positive message are you spreading? Are you so certain you even have a relationship with God with all that hate in your heart? Why do you insist on fueling the fires of bigotry and spit in the face of basic human and civil rights?

I am disgusted by each and every last one of you who preach this message of hate and violence. You’re glorified KKK members in my opinion. What’s worse, the further you fall from relevance and into the realm of a punchline of a social joke – the further the perception of Christianity falls with you. People will make the conclusion that they don’t need God if he’s going to simply smite them all with hellfire, brimstone, and hatred. There is enough hatred in life, enough social outcasting, enough pain, enough suffering and you’re giving them one less place to turn to.

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By kxpx | Posted in RKDC Blog | Tagged argument, bible, church, gay, God, homosexual, jesus, political, rights | Comments (2)

150,000 Patriots

August 24, 2010 – 12:12 am

I often find a sense of smug humor when people bash the south. (For you international folks, I’m referencing the Southeastern part of this country) Typically it paints a picture of back woods, bible thumping, no teeth having, redneck, cousin fuckers. I was born and raised here in the South and not once have I ever had sex with my cousin. I have all my teeth. I’ve traveled around the world. I work in corporate America in a job a ton of people would love to have in a pay grade well above the average 30 year old. Along side the very southern things I like to do (watch the race, cook pigs, drink sweet tea, etc…) I also attend the theater, cook several different cuisine types, and enjoy reading. (Yes, some of us down here know how to do that too)

This post, however, is not to defend or make excuses for my bible thumping, cousin fucking brethren – but to illustrate something that I think is lost in all the Jeff Foxworthyisms and Larry the Cable Guy’s stupid ass. It was highlighted at the Bristol race that I was lucky enough to attend. At the pre-race ceremony there were some military personnel on hand – they happened to arrive by jumping out of a plane. This, of course, is all part of the spectacle but it did set up something that caused me to choke up a little with pride.

After each branch landed with their flag (Army flag, Marine Corp flag, etc..) someone jumped with the American flag. After he landed, a giant flag was run out on the track by some folks and just held there. The PA announcer introduced some local families who had recently lost loved ones over seas. They also introduced the wounded warriors as guests of honor. The applause was nothing like I’d ever heard. When they started naming the names of the fallen soldiers/marines and the wives, sisters, and children were getting emotional – looking around you could tell people were getting misty eyed. You couldn’t help feel for these very exposed and obviously in pain families – and then in unison, 150,000+ people did something that I haven’t seen since grade school – we said the Pledge of Allegiance. Without prompt or fail, all hats were taken off, everyone was standing, and everyone was looking at this big flag on the track. There was a fly by of some very fast moving fighter jets and then 150,000+ people sang along to “Proud to be an American”. A group of school children were up next to sing the Star Spangled Banner. It was at that moment people from all over the track started taking out flags, some little ones on a stick like at the 4th of July parade , some that took 3-4 people to hold open. Everyone sang along and cheered just as loud when that was over, for the kids singing, for the warriors down on the infield, for the veterans in the crowd that were previously called out than they did for “Drivers, start your engines” call made fifteen minutes later.

My previous sporting events had taught me that the National Anthem was simply a formality before the first pitch or before the coin is tossed. There are people that talk through it, don’t take off their caps, or in some cases, don’t even stand as it’s being played. I think that’s part of the reason it was such a big deal – this was not just some 3 minute song that people “had” to stand for and endure – this was some good old fashioned Southern manners and respect for tradition.

I rarely get worked up emotionally about public displays of anything. It’s just not worth my time or energy – but there was a charge in the air with this event, this group of people. Looking around at all these “dumb hicks” taking hats off, not having to tell their kids to do the same, singing like no one is around, and displaying flags just because they could – I couldn’t help but be moved and be proud of “my people”.

I know, in the end, that Marine on the infield will never get his hand back. I know the race nor the recognition will give him that. I think everyone down to the last man, woman, and child however, wanted that Marine from Tennessee that his people loved him – for what he did, for what he lost, and for what he endured.

National pride is not a sole possession of the South, but in all the events I’ve been to big and small, there was nothing that’s ever felt like this. This was simply genuine love, genuine appreciation, and genuine respect.

I’d like to thank those 149,999 people that I didn’t know at the race for offering up that little ray of light that I so very desperately (though unknowingly) needed to feel.

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By kxpx | Posted in RKDC Blog | Tagged anthem, bristol, flag, manners, nascar, patriots, respect, south, southern | Comments (1)

Ordinary Life

August 23, 2010 – 9:34 pm

She’s always restless,
she’s over-medicated with the kind of emotion that feels out of place.
Never give your opinion
they’ve got all the answers
follow the leader and remember where you’ve been..

So don’t leave,
its not me you know
can’t control what goes through my mind.
So stay, please understand,
I don’t mean all I said tonight.

Haven’t slept for days and my words don’t seem to come out right,
it’s just a phase that you’re gonna grow out of when you die,
and it’s alright you know, everything’s going to be just fine
is it too much to ask for some kind of ordinary life?

Two weeks clean a vague reality,
from a life time clouded, lost details of your dreams.
the words you eat, the pills you need to sleep,
are things you never think if till they’re always on your mind..

So don’t leave,
its not me you know
can’t control what goes through my mind.
So stay, please understand,
I don’t mean all I said tonight.

Don’t leave!
it’s not me you know
can’t control what goes through my mind,
so stay please understand I don’t mean all I said tonight..

Is it too much to ask for, some kind of ordinary life?
Is it too much to ask for, some kind of ordinary life?
Is it too much to ask for, some kind of ordinary life?

One of those weeks that seems to bring out the harsher sides of my personality and people assume because I am demanding and I am harsh with my opinions of mistakes (more so with myself than others, but harsh is harsh I suppose, no degree to measure it with) that I am this flippant emotionless rock of a man that doesn’t feel sympathy, remorse, or even empathy for those around me and those I love. It’s simply not the case but in this case, like all the others, perception is reality.

That sounds a little emo, but truth be told, I like the way I handle myself and I like the way I do things because people constantly come to me for advice and admittedly try to better themselves not to disappoint me. If it takes me being a hard ass that shows no emotions to get people to excel, so be it, I’m good at it. I make no apologies for who I am or how I handle myself. I’ve done enough in life to earn their respect and make my friends and family proud. I refuse to be ashamed of that.

Deep down though after a day of trying to help people, listen to them, and offer up solutions to problems, it would be nice to come home to something ordinary. This last week has been really tough for a multitude of reasons (mainly all the bad things happening to my friends) but I’ve been craving a taste of family, my family that I had for such a brief flicker, and it’s just not something I can snap my fingers, demand, or wish into existence.

The troubling part is that when I’m listening to a very old friend talk about his marriage falling apart and how I did (or I would) handle things it rehashes some old wounds. When he started rattling off her behavior patterns and got choked up at a few points about how he still loves her and wants it to work, internally, I was taken back and reliving it right along with him.

Could I show that? Fuck no. What kind of self absorbed friend would I be if I started doing that? He was there to get things off his chest, ask for advice, and generally needing a shoulder – I was not going to take an already upset man and compare “war” stories with him. I’m sure I came off as attentive but a little cold – but that’s how things work with me. If it ever comes to what he fears – after it’s all said and done – we can talk “war” stories – but until then, he just needs a venting post. Duty fulfilled.

So my venting post will be this medium. It won’t matter if I get choked up, angry, sad, happy, etc.. because before it’s posted it will be edited to as neutral as possible to simply state my point. Once edited, I’ll get it posted up, apply the social media element to it, and move on with my night. I’m cooking dinner, playing with my dog, and maybe will get in some xbox time. In any event, it’ll go on seemingly business as usual while the rest of the world wonders why I wasn’t more “sympathetic” to my friends in need.

Perception, dear friends, is reality.

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By kxpx | Posted in RKDC Blog | Tagged lessons, life, music, personality, song | Comments (0)

The Japanese Hate My Feet

August 18, 2010 – 4:03 am

I made a few surprising discoveries while I was in Tokyo. First, they’re racist and not shy about it. Second, they hate my feet. I know it seems funny for a W.A.S.P. to be talking racism, but it’s the truth. There are many places over there that are (and I quote) “Japanese Only”. Sure, they call it cultural but it’s just not something I’m used to. I mean, in Hong Kong, I was the outsider no doubt but never was I turned away from anything because I was not a native. Now, don’t get me wrong, it’s not like 1920′s Alabama over there, there are some Japanese that are tolerant and some even friendly, but being told I can’t come into a bar or grab a bite to eat because I’m not a native struck me as odd and a little offensive – until I realized that I simply don’t care and I’ll go eat my beef and noodle bowl somewhere else.

It was serious business to those guys though, they’d come out with their arms crossed in an “X” across their chest saying “Japanese Only” or on one occasion “No Gaijin”. Gaijin means “alien” or “outsider” but is often used as a racial slur. I learned that while we were at a business dinner and too much sake was consumed and the man was harping on we Americans and told his very frank opinion on us gaijin taking their women out of the country. He implied we were like barbarians. Made me laugh because, well, holy shit, I’ve never ransacked a city nor have I taken a woman from her homeland but if I fell in love with a Japanese woman and she wanted to come to the states to live with me I wouldn’t feel one ounce of guilt, shame, remorse, or “giveafuck” what the Japanese culture as a whole thought of it. How very American of me, right?

Regardless of all that, I have fulfilled my dream of going to Tokyo. I’ve had this dream since I was about 14, so 15 years later isn’t too bad. I did discover though that they hate my feet. Shoes, it seems, are a big deal over there. Most places provide slippers that you change into but my size 13 feet (which are wide like a hobbits) just wouldn’t fit in *any* slippers they had. Even in the data center where it’s a multicultural facility that does global commerce and takes in visitors/clients from all over the globe didn’t have one set of slippers that would fit me. (It’s ok, most of them looked like leather crocs – and my feelings on those are not good)

In the data center I had to put shoe covers on like I was going to surgery. I tore three pair before I found one that would fit over my Dr. Martins. I also found out that they don’t like touching shoes, at least, not mine. When we’d go eat somewhere and have to take our shoes off, they had these little cubby holes to stuff your shoes in – like back in Kindergarten. Once again, they were all too narrow or short for my shoes to fit in – so I’d just leave them in front so I didn’t take up two slots – someone would see them there and go and try to fit mine in with the rest and you’d think they were picking up steaming dog turds – not that my shoes smell or are offensive, it was just the idea of them fucking with someones shoes that were not their own. After a few nights of the “Japanese Only” shtick I started not caring that they had to mess with my shoes, but that was me being American again.

I don’t mean to paint a totally negative picture but the culture reminds me of pre-civil rights America and some weird future where all the girls are as outlandish as possible with short skirts, wild ass hair, and laced in this feudal tradition where I felt like the Emperor himself would have me executed if I tried to flex nuts and go into a Japanese only establishment.

One of the better experiences I had was going into a Shinto temple. They were gracious with me as I performed some of the rituals (cleaning my hands and mouth with some holy water, tossing the coin in the prayer box, the ritual of giving thanks to my ancestors) and I did see a wedding which was awesome. It still amazes me how bipolar one culture can seem with cutting edge everything from cars to electronics but to see something as simple and ceremonial as a wedding look as if it came from the 1502 AD.

All in all, I’m pleased that my line of work landed me in a place I’ve always wanted to go. I sampled some of the finest cuisine they had to offer (and truthfully hated most of it) and saw the whole of Tokyo. I was told next time to go to the south of Japan, Osaka specifically where they’re very “western friendly” and a little more laid back than the corporate laden Tokyo. I do have a story about an evil toilet I battled with all week, but that’s another blog post.

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By kxpx | Posted in RKDC Blog | Tagged culture, feet, gaijin, japan, tokyo, travel | Comments (0)

Tokyo Loli’s and Pedobear T’Shirt

July 17, 2010 – 9:05 pm

For those of you not familiar with 4chan – good, keep it that way. For those of you who are and find the Pedobear Meme to be hysterical, I made sure that we were all getting pictures of the loli or sudo loli – and then discovered (and bought for my good friend t00r) the Pedobear ASCII t-shirt. Sometimes, Japan is good.

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By kxpx | Posted in Photo Blogs | Tagged 4chan, japan, loli, meme, pedobear, travel | Comments (0)

California Climbing

July 17, 2010 – 4:52 pm

There is a story attached to this photo, I’ll finish it out when I get back to the States. However, Jon caught a good pic of my pale fat ass climbing a fairly tall rock at the beach.

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By kxpx | Posted in RKDC Blog | Tagged beach, california, climbing, travel, trip | Comments (1)

Tokyo Drift

July 17, 2010 – 4:49 pm

Just a few pictures from my Tokyo trip. More to come (this is gallery 1 of 3) along with blog posts I never published (why the Japanese hate my feet and the evil toilet monster).

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By kxpx | Posted in Photo Blogs | Tagged tokyo, travel | Comments (1)

Rock Climbing, T-Hall, Frankfurt Germany

July 17, 2010 – 11:50 am

My very first time on the wall. It was terrifying. This happened during a work trip back in 2008.

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By kxpx | Posted in Photo Blogs | Comments (0)

This post is apparently brought to you by LA Gear, AquaNet, and Men in Makeup

July 16, 2010 – 9:47 am

So I’m sitting here listening to some Motley Crue in my Guns N’ Roses “Appetite for Destruction” t-shirt with my hair all kinds of shaggy in a bandana thinking I wish I could have had a chance to date (see also: have sex with) Alyssia Milano or Cheetara (yes, the Thundercat).

It caught me as funny that all of this 80′s stuff was all over me like Pam was on Tommy. I’m usually not one to really think about the 80′s, I only really remember the later parts of it and that Fine Young Cannibals sucked and that saying “I like New Kids on the Block, too” let me start making out with girls in the 5th grade. (Yeah, I was in 5th grade too, wasn’t pulling a pedobear or anything)

The more and more I talk to people 5-10 years me elder the more and more I’m happy that the 90′s were my formative years. They had things called “Duranies” (maybe Duranys?) that were Duran Duran groupies. (I personally don’t think they’re all that great until they hit the 90′s and started having “Ordinary World” and “Come Undone” on the radio – as opposed to smelling like they sound or songs about porn (the Girls on Film video was hot though).

However, there are things I feel I missed out on. “Young” Metallica, sure sure I have the CD’s now, but I missed the rise of the band only saw the fall… Load, Reload, Saint Anger… *sigh*. I also missed out on this New Wave thing and some fashion by something called “New Romantics”. (*edit* – I was shown what it was – it’s like an emo kid had sex with someone from the Ren Faire)

One thing I’m glad for, bands that trancended the 80′s to make some good music into the 90′s and are still relevant today. ZZ Top. The Cure. Sting. Prince (and his equivilant symbol). Bad Religion. Henry Rollins. You could argue Metallica on that list as well, I think if they promimsed not to Saint Anger anything, people would show up.

No, I’m thankful I grew up when I did. Aside from Pearl Jam, Nirvana, Dre, Snoop, and some good techno/house/ambient – I was at the right age to appreciate (and still do) Pennywise, NoFX, Social Distortion, MxPx, The Refreshments, Public Enemey, Orbital, The Prodigy, etc..etc.. and now, while I can get behind some music from GaGa and Lil’ Wayne – the music just doesn’t speak to me anymore. I outgrew it, so I’ll enjoy it but when I need music to hit a nerve I always to back to what influenced me the most (at the right time in my life). Plus, the grunge era was awesome, I’m waiting on flannel shirts, torn up jeans, etc.. to come back in style Forget new romantic emo, let me look like I’ve been living under a bridge a week Today, however, it’s all 80′s for me with my jeans, boots, GnR t-shirt, and Motey Crue blaring.

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By kxpx | Posted in RKDC Blog | Tagged 80s, 90s, bands, metallica, music, nofx, orbital, pennywise, prodigy | Comments (2)

Merry Olde England

July 16, 2010 – 9:14 am

Even though I’ve been to my motherland (fatherland? what the hell gender is England?) a few times I still am in awe of just how old it is. The other night my co-worker and I sat in a pub that’s 300 years old. Remind me again, how old is America?

Sadly the awe stops when they serve the food. I keep telling people it’s bad but they never really understand why until they get here and start ordering. See, when we go to places like Hong Kong or Tokyo the food is so different that it turns a lot of them off so in comparison English pub grub is familiar, warm, and safe. I mean really, would you rather have a steak and ale pie or steamed chicken feet or boiled goat head complete with tongue?

Anyways, the food gets served and it’s always the same “WTF is this shit?”. Same goes with the beer, they see these shiny nitrogen taps of Guineess, John Smith’s, Carling, Fosters, etc.. but forgo them (except the John Smith’s – I make them try it) for something a little more “local” – which is served right from the cask at room temperature. London’s Pride, cool tap handle, not a bad beer when it’s cold, but it’s akin to wrapping your lips around the dick of a camel and letting him urinate in your mouth.

Ok, it’s not that bad, really, but I stop drinking my beer once it hits room temp and just go get another round. I’m not accustomed to warm beer nor am I accustomed to small, squishy, funny tasting chicken wings which could have come off of a pigeon… perhaps a low flying raven.. I’m not sure what the hell these things were because they simply did not share any qualities with any chicken wings I’d ever eaten. The consensus after a few bites was that it was not fowl (but they were foul) but bone in dog penis. What else could it have been? We left the rest on the plate. They have things that I’ve never heard of that they proudly serve – gammon with rocket mash. Seriously? That sounds like a headlining tour at the Star Bar in Little 5. “Treacle Sponge”. Does that also live in a pineapple under the sea? “Spotted Dick”. Sorry, not matter how many times I see it, I’m not ordering it. I don’t know of anyone ever having a success story after having a “bit of spotted dick” in their mouth. Sounds like a trip to the clinic is in order to me.

To be fair, Treacle Sponge with hot custard is fucking fantastic. I still don’t know what a treacle is but it tastes like a bit of heaven fell from the sky into my mouth. The same can be said about “Sticky Toffee Pudding”. I’ve had to learn over the years that pudding here is not like pudding at home. Pudding at home is like a thick, chilled, hearty custard. Pudding here is, well, dessert. So imagine my surprise when (after my treacle sponge) I found Treacle Pudding on a menu – ordered it thinking this was going to finally offer a challenge to my beloved banana pudding – and *drumroll* it was the same damn thing. In my inquiry to the bar maid (whom I had to resist calling wench, maiden, lass, or bird) was that pudding does, in fact, just mean cake but is often used to simply describe dessert.

I’ve decided I’m going to befriend an independent pub owner (it may surprise you that all these little quaint cottage shaped old ass places are owned by some ownership group, serve the same frozen/heated food, beer, and jukebox selection – but there are a few independents around) and ask to work with him for two weeks and see if they’ll let me introduce some “real” versions of what the hell they’re serving – in exchange for recipes/demonstrations for sticky toffee pudding, treacle sponge, a proper set of pint glasses, and a few bar towels.

They just stick an American city on something and that gives them an excuse to make these culinary abominations.

“NY Cheeseburger – 6oz of beef topped with cheddar cheese, mayo, sautéed onions, bbq sauce, bacon*, cole slaw, and fried egg, topped with fried onion, served with chips and salad*”

Let me translate to you what this really means.

6 oz beef topped with imitation/processed cheese, mayo, wet onions that taste boiled in nothing but water, bbq sauce that is buttery and overly sweet, a piece of ham that’s been fried, cabbage and more mayo, sunny side up egg still runny on a soft roll with an undercooked onion ring on top served with french fries and a burger garnish in case you still want more shit on this abortion we call the “NY Cheeseburger”.

One week of proper burgers and this country would start taking over fucking countries again. The weather and the food are all that’s holding these fine Brit folks back from having an empire again. If I can introduce them to gumbo, banana pudding, proper bbq, and sweet tea – these people would be unstoppable because they all want to get the fuck out of this miserable weather they just don’t have the energy from sucking down warm beer and eating terrible food (even if they don’t realize the food is terrible, but they have to have a clue since they eat stuff called “mushy peas” or “spotted dick”.

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By kxpx | Posted in RKDC Blog | Tagged dick, england, food, pubs, pudding, spotted, travel, treacle | Comments (3)

Delta Customer Service is a Joke

July 10, 2010 – 2:11 pm

So I’m headed to London in a few hours. I’m flying Delta, this is nothing new for me. I’m a decent level frequent flier and use them (or a partner) for just about all my air travel needs. This time, something was messed up though – I couldn’t select a seat. I called Delta and she said she wasn’t sure if I had a seat but she could only give me 40D – and then did it, without knowing if I had a better seat. (Usually when I book though AMEX travel they rock me out w/ exit row seats where I have some leg room). After talking with a woman who clearly could not (and did not) help me, I decide to send an email just as a frustration thing. I was hoping they’d respond with why I couldn’t pick my seat – just looking for an explanation. First, my email – then the response from Delta.

Comments:

Hello, I booked my ticket apprx. 3 weeks ago (confirmation number:
DXKN59) and was unable to choose a seat on delta.com – KLM just sent me
back to delta. I ended up calling customer service a few days ago and
they were unable to put me in a seat until (after being on hold several
minutes) she tells me that she “should” be able to, but “can’t” – but
confirmed I had a reservation. Eventually (after putting me on hold
again) she says “I can manually put you in 40d – good luck getting a
better seat when you get to the airport”. Having this ticket so long and
the inability to pick a seat is very, very frustrating. This flight is
over 8 hours long and I’m in the back of the plane in a middle seat.
When I checked online today, it showed my seat, but the rest of the map
was still blank – this close to my flight and I still can’t select a
seat. I then noticed the flight was oversold (how does that happen?) . I
did inquire with the customer service rep about upgrading seats using my
accumulated mileage and she had no idea if I could do it or not and then
quoted me a cash price to upgrade.

I’m really not asking for anything out of the ordinary, just a chance to
chose a seat like I do with every other flight. You guys are my airline
of choice and typically I never have trouble with your customer service
or flight bookings. The one time I do, I get assigned one of the worst
seats on the plane without the customer service rep even knowing where
my previous seat was (I booked through AMEX travel, they usually put me
in an aisle seat near an exit row). If this were a typical flight from
ATL to ORD or ATL ot MSY, fine, that’s ok sitting cramped in the back -
but I choose you guys for my international travel because until now,
I’ve had a choice. I am quite dissatisfied with the customer service
rep’s lack of ability to give me a straight answer and then stick me in
40D. I’m sorry if this comes off sounding like i’m whining, however, I
am fully disappointed in the service for this trip.
Would you like a reply to your e-mail?:yes

—-Reply—-

Dear Mr. Phipps,

Thank you for contacting Delta Air Lines regarding your upcoming travel.

Our information indicates that you spoke to one of our Customer Service
representatives. Please let us know if you have any further concerns.

We appreciate the opportunity to review your concerns and hope your trip
is pleasant in every respect.

Sincerely,

Keron Keith
Online Customer Support Desk
http://www.delta.com

Lovely, isn’t it? The latest experiences I’ve had with Delta have been delayed take off due to

-Inability to find a crew
-Aircraft Maintenance (that never happened, they made us wait and then “marked the plane for repair in the book”
-Weather (I’m not so pissed about this, but it happened)

and on top of that broke my luggage but have a “strict 24 hour reporting period” which I failed to meet – could have been that staying up all night thing and passing out when I got home thing.

I don’t have many of the same complaints with Delta that some of you do – my FF status means I get 2 free bags, can go over the weight limit, get to board quicker, etc.. so my perspective of “having to sit in a middle seat in the back” may seem petty – but when you’re in the air over 8 hours and you do this several times a year you tend to be accustomed to basic things like seat selection. 4″ of leg room makes a *huge* difference as does having one whole side of your body to yourself.

The best news of it all is that they’ve oversold the flight and “even though you have a seat reserved, you may not be allowed to board, but you will be compensated”.

I can’t tell if it’s the ATL airport, Delta, or a combination of the two but this is getting really old really fast.

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By kxpx | Posted in RKDC Blog | Tagged airline, customer, delta, email, service, travel | Comments (0)

A Touch of Class

July 8, 2010 – 2:32 am

Sometimes reddit comes up with some epic stuff.

Slight variation of the same thing.

You’ll need a browser that supports tabs, so remember, right click “Open in New Tab”, don’t just click.

Tab 1 – This - Volume about 15%
Tab 2 – This - Volume about 85%
Tab 3 – This - Volume at 100%

….instant classy feeling that makes you want to watch/write noir, have fantasies of bearskin rugs, and you can imagine being able to appreciate a good single malt.

Now for your reading pleasure, head back over to that reddit site and read the comments. Epic win.

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By kxpx | Posted in RKDC Blog | Comments (0)

A Week in Northern California – Part 2

July 7, 2010 – 6:36 pm

So where were we? Landing in Oakland. Right.

I’m off the plane and on to baggage where I do the obligatory “wait for 30 minutes on my luggage” and suddenly find myself in a need to rush to catch a 1:00 bus from the airport up to Sonoma County. I ask the lady at the desk where to go and her response is:

“Cross three streets, make a right, wait around 4D, the cost is $32″

I stood there blinking in amazement that I have to walk what sounds like a mile to get to this place, but when she said “street” she meant “lane of traffic that goes in front of the airport”. So I make it in time to find that the bus doesn’t accept Visa (or anything other than cash)…. in this day and age when I can buy peanut M&M’s at 37,000 ft via visa, why can’t I ride 60 miles on plastic? I can buy a milkshake, a 3 pack of condoms, shoes, a pencil, or a freakin’ Mt. Dew on my visa… but I can’t ride the bus on one? Why even have a ticketing window if you’re not going to wire it up?

So now, I’m stuck. The goal of this trip was to surprise a life long friend with a visit to his neck of the woods. His wife arranged it all in secret and it was based off strategic timing that had to be precise. So I can’t really call them up and be like “Yo fools! I’m in Oakland! Come get me!” That would, you know, ruin the surprise.

So I drag my 200lbs of luggage around until I find a service called “door to door” and they have the glorious visa/master card sticker on the back of their old ass minivan.

A man approaches looking very similar (but much more clothed) to the man that jumped out of the back of the car in the movie “The Hangover”. Very soft spoken but with a harsh accent. I tell him where I want to go, that I have a visa, and ask him if he can get me there by 3:00. All of this is agreeable so we’re off.

About an hour later he says “what exit we take?”

….oh hell no.

“I really don’t know, I have their address I can give you”

“Do you have GPS?”

“No… do YOU have GPS?”

“NO, no GPS – what exit?”

Seriously… is this happening to me? I start calling Melissa (the wife) and going to voicemail. I’m holding out on calling Jon because, well, I don’t want to ruin the surprise.

“WHAT EXIT WE TAKE?!”

Seriously, the guy is yelling at me, the guy from Atlanta, for not knowing his way around fucking CALIFORNIA!

“DUDE! I DO NOT KNOW, I AM TRYING TO FIND OUT! I’M USING YOUR TRANSPORTATION SERVICE AND OPERATING ON THE BASE ASSUMPTION THAT YOU CAN GET ME DOOR TO DOOR JUST LIKE YOUR VAN SAYS YOU CAN! HOLD ON A MINUTE!”

I typically don’t yell at asian men. It’s not a policy or anything, just not something I find myself doing often, if ever.

“Look man” I tell him “Just get off at the exit for downtown, I’ll get a hold of someone and if nothing else you can just drop me off somewhere here and they’ll come get me, ok?”

“We need to find ATM”.

“Why, why do we need to find an ATM? Your sign says you take Visa, I have Visa, seems like a match to me”.

“I don’t want to write it all down”.

Seriously. I’m in CALI-FUCKING-FORNIA – does NO ONE use plastic out here? Am I so surrounded by hippie freaks that we trade in glass beads and pot leafs?

“Look, if you see an ATM, stop at it, fine, otherwise you’ll have to write it down – I need to make a call so you have to be on the look out”.

He pulls into the first open parking space and I’m not even kidding, the dude walked into restaurants, stores, shops, and asked people where ATM’s were. I finally break down and call Jon.

“Dude! Hey! Guess what? I’m in downtown Santa Rosa,…. I uh…I’m here to surprise you…but I don’t know where you live”

This is met with some skepticism as the rouse the whole week was that I’d be at the beach with my family in Florida.

“Yeah” I continue “I’m at this hotel… by some outdoor art show… and some hippies… fourth street I think…am I close to you?”

Jon, for all his kick ass qualities, should not be relied on as a navigator. I’d forgotten this fact.

We get Melissa on the phone and she says she can turn by turn me to where I need to be. I relay the info to the cab driver and we’re off again. When we get to the street that we have to turn left on (into the neighborhood) he keeps driving.

“Dude, hey.. we were supposed to go left back there, that was the road.”

“No, we need to find ATM.”

At this point I was doing everything in my power not to reach up and choke a bitch ala Wayne Brady. I took a deep breath and in my calmest voice said

“Listen, I’ll write down the information to save you time, whatever, the surprise visit is all fucked up now and you’re making it worse driving in a town that you obviously know nothing about. Just hand me the card slip and I’ll write it down, turn around, and get me where I need to be”.

“No, there is an ATM up here, gas station or something”.

I snapped, something inside me decided that this man needed to die a horrible death. Thankfully for him, we found a liquor store before I grabbed the wheel and steered us into oncoming traffic.

“How much do I need to get out?”

“You make me drive over 70 miles, you pay me $180″.

“$180…. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?! WE DROVE THE EXTRA MILES BECAUSE YOU WERE LOST! THAT’S LIKE 5x WHAT THE BUS COST AND YOU GOT ME HERE LATER!”

“$180″

I went inside this ghetto ass store and pulled out the cash got back in the van. He then looks at me and says

“Now, where we go?”

“You should be paying me for this trip” was all I could say before I told him how to get where we needed to go.

So we arrive, he jumps out of the van and starts taking my stuff out, like I’ve made him late for something. I hand him the money, minus $20 and tell him “$160″

This is apparently an acceptable level of rape from this bastard and he gets in his van and drives off. I’d bet that $20 it took him about 45 minutes to get back to the bay area.

Thankfully the trip got much better, not nearly as much anger.

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By kxpx | Posted in RKDC Blog | Tagged california, delta, lost, taxi, travel, trip | Comments (0)

A Week in Northern California – Part 1

July 7, 2010 – 4:51 am

All quiet on the blog front for a while. It’s travel season. Part of it, like these last 10 days have been, is vacation – the rest, work. I decided to try and detach the ethernet cable that’s typically plugged into my brain 24 x 7 this trip. I only brought my phone with me because, well, it’s my phone.

The trip started by me staying up all night. My flight was at 7:35 a.m. EST, which means I had to be at ATL (Atlanta Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport) at 5:35 a.m. and since my normal sleep schedule is somewhere around 4:00 a.m. EST, I didn’t want to risk it. I catch a ride to ATL and per my usual routine, curbside check in. One good thing about Delta (and there aren’t many, but it’s my airline of choice) is that with my frequent flier status, it’s free. I have two bags to check at the curb and my xbox to carry on. (Don’t judge me, it’s my vacation.) After the guy checks me in hooks me up with my upgrade ticket (seat 2B, hell yeah first class) he says “I’d gladly accept any gratuity”.

Now, typically, I carry a $5 on me to give these guys. They get treated like crap by the customers and buying them lunch at McDonalds or some cheap beer is the least I can do for them. Except this guy. I didn’t even have a chance to reach in my wallet and pull money out before he says that. I don’t know why but after being up all night it rubbed me the wrong way.

“Dude, seriously?” was all I could say to him. He would not be denied! “You know, we normally charge $3 for this fee, the only reason you’re not paying is because of your status with Delta”. Now I don’t think he meant it to sounds a douchebaggish as it came out, I’m going to believe in my heart he was just telling me I’m an appreicated customer and this is a perk and he’s reminding me of that because the food is bad, the planes break, the flights are late, and they use planes that I think were around for the Korean conflict.

I said “Sorry man, not this time”. In true “fuck you without saying “fuck you” style” he says – “No worries my brother, you can catch me on it next time”.

What a way to start my trip, first class upgrade and a first class asshole.

I have one stop, in Salt Lake City, before I get to Oakland. Thankfully, uneventful. No delays. No broken planes. No gate changes in the massive fortress of sucktitude that is ATL. I’m asleep before we take off and awake right as we start our descent. SLC is a new airport for me so I’m hoping to take my hour there and see something cool. I still hold out hope right now that there is SOMETHING there worth seeing because in my two times there this past week I saw people dressed like hippies, nuns, and soccer moms. Not one good looking woman in that airport and the “spicy” food there (I ordered buffalo wings at 9:30 in the morning) was pitiful.

Second hop under way, once again, I’m passed out before we taxi out. I’m not one for idle airplane chat. I get too nervous when I’m next to a cute girl and really don’t want to hear about some business traveling pole smoker who wants to compare “my (blank) was worse than yours”. Hotels, rental car experiences, flights, trips, clients, etc… I’ve made the mistake enough times to know now that it’s not just a “one off” thing when people who have to travel for business want to have this pointless pissing contest. So I sleep.

I wake up as we’re about 5,000 feet off the ground, nose feeling straight down, and my first thought is “fuck, I don’t want to die in Oakland”. We’re on this little regional jet so the feelings are a little more exaggerated than on a 767 or the Airbus 300. Once I realize no one else is in any sort of a panic, I decide that we might stick this landing and I can start my vacation. Obviously, I made it… and my adventure to get up to Sonoma County was just beginning.

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By kxpx | Posted in RKDC Blog | Tagged california, delta, travel, trip | Comments (0)