A 'lil HooHaa

Messing with the blogging world since 2005

real life

Positive vibes needed on The Book

There really isn’t anything that should shock me in regard to Facebook and what people post anymore.

As social networks continue to grow, people put more and more information freely out there. It might be where you’re eating dinner, or what event you are watching, or photos of friends, animals and others.

There are rants about politics and religion. There’s bigotry, racism, and hate. There’s good news, love, and things to make you smile.

Social media is basically a one-stop shop, so to speak.

One thing I’ve continually noticed, though, is it’s harder and harder to hide from negativity on Facebook. If anyone happens to look at my timeline, there’s nothing Earth shattering. Basically, I post a lot of photos. Sometimes, if I remember, there are links to blog posts. Occasionally, I’ll have a post about something I’ve done or places I’ve been. And though I haven’t put one on Facebook in a while, sometimes you’ll see some food shots. I’ll share things occasionally from other places, but for the most part – it’s just my little world.

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But I keep it positive.

It’s not a recent trend by any stretch, but maybe I’ve noticed it a little more. Over the past few months, I have been in a “blah” place. Whether it be work-related stress, personal things, or whatever else – I just haven’t felt like myself. That’s changed over the past three weeks or so, which is good. But I’ve also opened my eyes to a lot of other things – such as, what I will now refer to as, Facebook Spew.

What is Facebook Spew, you might ask?

Facebook Spew is all the junk that comes from those typing away about anything and everything and having no filter.

Remember – if you put it out there, it can be seen. It doesn’t matter if you are jeering or celebrating our President elect. It doesn’t matter if you are talking about a neighbor or somebody else. Or if you are complaining about weather, the schools, or whatever else one can think of. The reality is people use Facebook as an uncensored place for people to say whatever they want and not think about consequences of their actions or words.

Now, understand this – I firmly believe in freedom of speech. This isn’t a post saying people should stop. Heck, if it’s your thing, keep it up.

It doesn’t, however, mean I have to keep reading. And yes, I know there’s the “unfollow” button that allows people to be friends and not see the other person’s feed, but what’s the point of that? Isn’t the point of social media to want to see other people’s news and updates? That’s how I look at it anyway.

So … sometime before the end of 2016, I’m going to go through my Facebook account and I’m going to look at people’s accounts. Some people I might already not “follow.” Some I might. But I’m going to look and see.

Is there a lot of Spew? If so, I might have to say goodbye. It doesn’t mean I don’t like you anymore. Really, it doesn’t. It just means I don’t want to see Spew.

I’ve noticed recently I’ve lost a few friends (by the number) in the Facebook world. It actually made me smile. I have no idea who the people were, and that’s OK. But why smile? Because that means somebody might not like what I am posting (which, again, is just usually photos) and decided to say … I don’t need to see it anymore.

That’s fine and I respect it.

Facebook is a wonderful platform when used how you see fit – be it a place to complain or give opinions; or a place for sharing good things and such. But Facebook is also a place where people need to have the courage to say … we are friends and will continue to be in the real world, but when it comes to here … I’m saying goodbye.

I might only do it to 2-3 people. Maybe it will be a dozen. Who knows? But as we come into the holiday season, I want to feel positive vibes, not people complaining about this or that.

Feel free to leave a comment, or e-mail P.J. at hoohaablog@gmail.com. Also, please “Like” A ‘lil HooHaa on Facebook! You can also follow me on Twitter @softball29!

People watching can make a dining experience even better

Look, no matter what you think about a place such as Hooters, the reality is it makes for some great blogging.

Seriously.

Whether it’s fictional — such as my Life With Earl post a while back — or real life, there’s countless stories that can come out of a place such as Hooters.

Going to Hooters is all about the burgers. For real.

This past weekend, I attended two college hockey games in the Capital District area. It’s was nice to see my alma mater earn a couple of victories, including one over a top-10 ranked team Friday.

It was after that game that a trip to Hooters happened.

Look, while people may think the only reason to go to Hooters is the skimpy clothes, I can assure you the burgers and wings are actually good. And with so many televisions, it’s easy enough to catch a game before heading home.

That being said, this will be my last trip there for a long time — at least this one. The burgers weren’t great, the service was slow and some of the things I witnessed made me shake my head.

This story is about that experience.

I’m a realist when I go to a place like this. I realize what the skimpy clothes are for. They make the girls working there quite the eye candy. Whether you think this is sexist or not, remember these girls choose to do this job. They know people will stare at them, flirt with them and get all giddy when the girls pay attention to them.

And, usually, they are tipped accordingly.

Still, it’s hard not to laugh at a lot of the things that happen at these places. I truly believe if you are a writer and have writer’s block — go to a Hooters. Have a burger or some wings and a beer and just people watch.

It’s worth it’s weight in gold.

I knew this meal was going to take a life of its own when we initially walked in and the waitress sat two groups at the same time. The two of us were seated at the high-top table all the way to the back of the place. That despite there being many open seats in the front of the place.

We asked to have the table changed because, well, the table was wobbly.

Our waitress performed some repair duties, using sugar packets to “fix” a wobble on our table.

Instead of moving us, which likely meant turning us over to another waitress, our waitress opted to “fix” the wobble on the table by taking two or three packets of sugar and placing them under one of the legs to solve the problem.

You can’t make this stuff up, folks.

Not only was the table wobbly and were we at the back of a wide-open joint, but we were next to the door where the waitresses bring the dirty dishes and such. So they continually walk past carrying dirty dishes. It’s not too appetizing, I assure you of that.

That being said, it gave me a chance to peek at the whole restaurant.

It’s there where I saw the 50-something gentleman at the bar chatting it up with a 20-something waitress. She didn’t leave too often and, of course, giggled at whatever he was telling her. They spoke about whatever was on the television above them and she was coy and “shy” throughout.

My bet is she received a nice tip.

There was also the requisite group of guys jammed into one booth. It started with two and ballooned to five at some point. They were loud, had foul mouths and, of course, whenever the waitress came over they acted all tough and macho and hit on her like they stood a chance. She smiled at them, got them what they needed and did her job. When she walked away and her back was turned, you could see how she really felt.

I can’t blame her.

If she saw the way they reacted when they looked at her backside as she walked away, she would have been even more disgusted.

They fit every “frat boy” stereotype. Loud and obnoxious. When two of them walked away to hit up the restroom, you could see all the normal dress for that “type” of person. An attempt to be “in style” with the odd jeans, tight shirt (despite not being “built”) and that swagger that makes the regular joe, such as myself, shake their head.

I bet that poor gal didn’t get much of a tip from them.

One of the oddest things was the group sitting behind these “gentlemen.” It seemed to be a family. A guy, two gals and two kids. And despite the foul mouth, these people didn’t seem to worry. The kids were in high chairs. The waitresses oggled over the kids. They held them and played with them. And at one point, one of the kids got to crying. There’s something I never thought I’d hear at a Hooters.

Chalk that up to something new.

The group next to us was one of the most entertaining. There were three people — two guys and a gal. The guys had the normal food choices and the girl didn’t have anything.

Smart girl!

When all said and done, the waitress thanked them and said “See you soon!”

Who whips out a laptop after finishing his dinner and paying his bill at Hooters? This guy!

I reckon that’s a normal thing for a waitress to say.

Alas, that opened the door for the one guy, who was a rather big guy. He expressed how they lived about an hour away, but he used the town name. The waitress had no idea where it was. After somewhat explaining where it was, he went into a rant about how they come down this way once a week or so and inquired as to when said waitress worked. I imagine in his mind he figured he was the top customer now.

It made me shake my head. Again.

But, that doesn’t compare to my favorite part of the night.

I’ve traveled solo for work many times. And by doing that, you’re often eating alone at night at some chain restaurant  hoping to have a decent meal and call it a night. Being I was in the newspaper industry, if I had to file a story, I’d find something such as a McDonald’s or Panera Bread or something.

Outside of that, when I go somewhere, I go to eat. I find an Outback or something along those lines. Not a Hooters. I just would feel kind of out of place. Maybe if I sat at the bar and ate or something.

But a guy near us was by himself. A middle-aged guy, he had his dinner and such, which is all good. But when he was done, he turned on the Rico Suave. He hit on a couple of the waitresses with a coy smile. All the while, he was turning on his laptop and surfing the web like he was some sort of big-time guy.

This part of the trip was without humor… it was just a good dessert!

A laptop. At Hooters. After one is done eating.

If I ever do that, I give any of you permission to come up and slap me. Seriously, it’s one thing to play on your phone before or while you are waiting for your bill or something. But after you paid?

Leave.

In the end, our meal was OK. It took a little too long to come out (I wondered if they had run out of burgers!) and the food was, well, OK I guess. I will note that I ended up having some dessert — some cheesecake with caramel. It was excellent. And they even made it look pretty. It was a bit rich, as desserts like that often are, and I couldn’t finish. But it was a nice sweet item to finish.

After we paid our bill, we left. And the gentlemen near us was still tapping away on his computer. Must have been something really important or some excellent wi-fi.

Feel free to leave a comment, or e-mail P.J. at hoohaablog@gmail.com. Also, please “Like” HooHaa Blog on Facebook!

A story many should hear

Kevin Parker tells his story at the Utica Firefly series on July 20.

If you were to pass Kevin Parker on the street, you probably wouldn’t look twice.

It’s doubtful that you’d think there was anything wrong. He’s a normal guy with a few tattoos and some piercings. Nothing too out of the ordinary.

But Kevin Parker has one hell of a story to tell.

A middle-aged man, he’s lived life a lot differently than many of us. It’s a life filled with some amazing tales of overcoming many pieces of adversity.

And it’s a life filled with drugs.

I’m sure that many of you who read this won’t have a clue who the hell Kevin Parker is. Until this past December, I barely had a clue who he was, either. I knew him as Jack Trades, a crazy dude who worked for Squared Circle Wrestling (2CW), an independent wresting promotion based out of Syracuse. We had seen him a few times at cards and never spoke a word to him.

Kevin Parker dumps a bag of used “bath salt” packages.

A geocaching buddy of mine, Mike, told me he was pals with “Jack Trades” and said to say hi to him at a card we attended in Syracuse.

We did and chatted with him for a few minutes.

That night, I took a pretty sweet image of him in the ring talking to the crowd. I texted it to Mike, who, in turn, sent it along to Parker. From that point on, I got to know Parker – both as himself and his alter-ego Trades. What I found was one of the most interesting people I have ever met.

He had such a story and I was enthralled.

I’m working on a much larger project with Kevin and soon enough, his full story will be told. It’s something else. But a few weeks ago, he was going to tell a portion of this story — a recent story — at the Utica Firefly Series. This series is a storytelling one where people gather in a coffeehouse setting and have an “open mike” type situation.

The week Kevin spoke had no theme, so it was anything goes. He also led things off, and what a way to start.

The setting was the Tramontane Café – or The Tram – an intimate coffeehouse in Utica, New York. The lights were dim and the people were close to the front so they could really get a feel of the people speaking their stories.

Some were funny. Some were serious. Some were too long. And some, well, left you wanting to leave. That’s how things are with open mikes, though. Some of the stories seemed like they were off the cuff. Some a little more prepared. There was even an appearance by, who I was told was a well-known Utica person named Rainbow. And he told a story about getting hit by a bus. Crazy.

Some people were nervous and rambled. Some were sharp, crisp and to the point. Some just kept talking and talking, not even thinking about the 5- to 10-minute time limit on things. And you could see what happened when that happened as other people in the crowd started to look around and lose interest.

In situations like this, if you go over the time limit, you have to capture the crowd. If they are bored, you need to end and move on – not continue.

Especially with the intimacy that the Tram offers.

The place is perfect for an event like this. Most of the chairs were mismatched. There are couches and comfy chairs. Folding chairs and others that look out of place. But the ambiance was excellent.

Before the show started, people sat around with their coffee, mingling or playing on their laptops. Some surfed Facebook, others appeared to be working. It had the feel of a new-wave hippy sort of place.

At the back of the “stage” was an old piano and other knick-knacks that fed to the ambiance of the place. Photos and signs of “The Tram” were spread around the walls. Inside, a news reporter for a local TV station set up a camera and tried to figure out the lighting so she could get things rolling when Kevin got on stage.

He was the opening speaker. In the end, he would prove to be a hard one to follow.

See, this story goes behind rolling a doob here and there. It goes to something that is overtaking the news when it comes to drugs, recently. Bath salts.

I have to be honest – I have heard of bath salts and knew it was some wacky drug that made people do odd things in some cases. But overall, I have no idea about these things. But I do know they are apparently legal because of how they are made and packaged.

And that’s scary.

Kevin Parker reads a text message from his son, which he keeps on his phone.

According to Wikipedia, bath salts (which are a designer drug, not the things you actually put in a bath) can have the effect on people like amphetamines and cocaine. These items can be swallowed, snorted, smoked or injected, giving a drug user many ways to get the drug into their system.

Finally, the real scary part is what can possibly come from these drugs. Things from hallucinations and paranoia to violent behavior, heart attacks, kidney or liver failure and suicide have occurred. There’s also an increased tolerance of pain.

Even more scary, right?

Well, Kevin was on bath salts. And he got bad. He was homeless. Doctors told him if he continued on this path, he wouldn’t live much longer.

He was ready to cash it in. He was ready to leave this life. He wasn’t eating. Basically, he was going to die.

Then something happened. There was a reason to fight. He wanted to get off these things.

And despite working on a bigger project with Kevin where I hope to help him tell his story, I think in this situation, it’s better to let him tell this particular story.

Do yourself a favor and watch this 10-minute video. It’s well worth your time.

The crowd was mesmerized. People, including me, were on the edge of their seats. There were looks of shock when Kevin fessed up and said he was “Jack.” And when he dumped out all those used packages? More stunned looks. And there were tears in the crowd, too. People dabbed at their eyes.

This is real life.

In a world where movies and fictional books are ways to release, this is real.

Way too real.

But the best part of this is the hopeful happy ending. July 4 will be his 75th day away from this crap. He went cold-turkey and he’s staying clean. Many props to him and here’s to him staying clean and helping others get away from this ugly drug!

Feel free to leave a comment, or e-mail P.J. at hoohaablog [at] gmail.com. Also, please “Like” HooHaa Blog on Facebook!