From City Life to the Holler: THAT'S Legal Transportation 'Round Here?

I'm loving visiting here in the country. It's quiet, it's quaint and.... what the hell is that noise? It sounds like a.... no. It can not be. Whaaaaa? On the road??

Since my makeshift office is in the front of the house I have a front row view to what and (once I learn folk) who is coming in and out of town (a 2 lane highway makes it easy). Imagine my surprise when I see this chugging up the road:

(Yes, there are items in the attached little cart)

It is, indeed, a riding lawn mower WITH a little trailer. My jaw dropped. I started laughing. The Vince Gill song 'One More Last Chance' when he jokes his wife took his car keys but 'forgot about his 'ol John Deere' shot thru my mind causing me to chuckle more. I shook my head and thought that would be it so I went back to unpacking my office crap (btw, I have a lot more office crap than I should). Soon after I saw this coming:

(Can't keep me from town-I got my serious hat on)

And then this going: 

(Mow, mow, mow the street...)

All within, probably, half an hour. I had to stop and just... I was laughing so hard I could hardly contain myself. When my host came home I asked him about it. "Oh yeah," he says serious-like. "People drive their riding mowers to town and back all the time. There was a tag sale Uptown* and she probably brought the trailer knowing she was going to buy stuff. Oh, and people DO get DUIs on them."

He had read my mind.

"And before you ask, yes my nephew will drive mine to his house to mow their lawn & then back to mow mine. But we don't drive ours into town, oh heck no," he informs me. Before I can breathe a sigh of relief he adds, "That's what the golf cart is for. It'll be back from the shop tomorrow."

The golf cart arrives at the house in the morning. Being a city girl I'm sure you, my friends, can picture what I was thinking. Cream colored, non descript golf cart like any normal golf course has. Noooooo. What pulls up on a trailer is a big wheeled, bright green, loud mini-bike sounding honkin' BEAST of a golf cart. So it's not a golf cart, it's a GOLF CART.

(See our riding mower in the back. It doesn't go to town cause, you know, it'd attract too much attention)

The guys  are stoked to get it back and mess around on it for the next while.  My host took me on a ride and despite the loudness of the engine it was fun (of course!) And then I saw it--or them. The one thing (two things) that I had hoped upon all hope that would never, ever be on one a vehicle I was riding in. But there they were in full on solid steel just a swangin':

(BALLS!)

From the city to the holler, nothing I experience is ever dull and things here are not normal as I know them. And I dig it-it's kinda fun (temporarily.)

Pardon me, I have to go for a cruise on the golf, er excuse me, GOLF CART.

*Uptown - Downtown Union City as Uptown even though it's the Downtown area (I guess 'cause we live south of it?)

Polish Vodka + Dooley's Irish = I Love My Client & My Career

Help! I'm stuck in a beer cooler!

I'm giddy. Or drunk, I'm not sure yet. But I'm really thrilled with my new client--the chain of Dooley's venues. As their Social Media Stategist & PR girl I've been having a blast just 3 days into the position, and it's been a pleasure working with a partner who knows what's up in the realm of bars/restuarant need-to-happens. It's such a breath of fresh air, especially since I take what I do seriously... and with a shot of vodka.

Plus it's like going home, since I started my redic little career (read: amazing big job) back in '99 with Wild Woody's, which is now a Dooley's since it's the same owners. I've got mad respect for Frank--he's responsible for training me in almost all my marketing/pr/event planning glory. Plus he had the good sense to bring me back for all this Social Media wonderfulness I'm about to impart on the 3 venues known for pointing the fun bazooka at patrons. All the managers --especially 1 in partic (short for particular)-- have been wonderful and the staff is so sweet. How could I not want to be in these bars touting their awesomeness with my, well, awesomeness? 

It's all your fault, Frank, hiring me in 1999.

So yeah, permasmile is on my face. And vodka is on my breath. Go to Dooley's Roseville, Sterling Heights or Mt Clemens & get ready for a night o' fun, festivities &, in my case, vodka. I'll see you there, peeps.

Great times with greater friends-Dooleys is IT!

My Chick Independ-Dance of Cocktails & Cartwheels

Sleep hath forsaken me for a Slurpee & a Slim Jim, and Night Ranger's '4 in the Morning' is carousing thru my skull since, well, it's 4 in the morning. Since I've been sleeping single-ly for 2 1/2 months now, I'm taking great excitement in being able to just turn on the light & get online at this unGodly hour... because I CAN.

The past few months have been, in a word, fabu (short for fabulous). Single, well, suits me right now. I'm giggly embracing the girliness that's been hiding under being in a relationship, and I love this 'once-was-lost-but-now-baCK' chick with a passion.

It's the little things: I take up my entire queensized bed when I sleep. I've redone my bedroom, living room, & bathroom to be all girly again.  I've whooshed off for a weekend at last minute with about 50 friends, and other weekends get booked up quick to play in Muskamoot Bay, Poormans, Vegas, or wherever the fun is kickin'. Music is on from morning to night and I dance like a goof when I like a song. I wear lingerie & perfume to bed, lost 30 pounds & changed health habits all just for myself.

Put In Bay? OK!

Single-ly it's easier & awes (short for awesome) to do what I want, when I want, how I want with no reprecussions of stupidity or ashamedness because I've come to realize just how much I value myself, my beliefs and what I feel I deserve out of life.  I have an all new set of standards in dating that I've been sticking to as well as a few expectations in the 'Act Like a Gentleman, Not a Douchy Player' department, and dates have truly been quality over quantity which reflects a new 'tude, especially because it frees up nights with the girls & boating with the guys. Ohhh... those nights with my girls.

Girls! Girls! Girls!

Life's been good so far (thank you, Joe Walsh. Now if I could have that Masaretti that does 185 I'd be set).

What Doesn't Kill Me Gets Easier with Vodka

Whiskey Tango Foxtrot, what did I get myself into? I must've hit the crackpipe before I scheduled this lovely line up: The Dating Game at Your Mother's, Hottiefest at The Beach Grill, and Heather's Toga Bday Bash at my place. Yes, back. To back. To back. And the success of all 3 lie on my shoulders. But you know what? Piece of cake. *snaps fingers* I can handle this no problem-it's in my blood. Supergirl in full effect.

More artsy, less fartsy.

What the ass-hander is all the little stuff that comes up that may or may not be event related. Like people backing out of commitments and having to scatter to find replacements. Things are easy to replace, like a lipstick, a hammer, or booze from your neighbor's liquor cabinet. People really aren't.

Or when you break your last favorite wine glass. Or a highball glass from your brand new set. Or drop 20 pounds of cat food on your foot then you SLICE the HELL out of your finger opening the bag with the sharp scissors from your really expensive and fabulous knife set. And then you find out the couches you were expecting are no longer coming because a dog ripped the arms to shreds. And you keep trying to spell shred 'shread.' And then your kitten runs away. And then you get hit on via FB by creepers who used your business as a means to an 'in.' And then you get nasty messaged by some uncouth, know-nothing guy you don't even KNOW because you didn't return a FB message about his hanging a sign about his really idiotic business in places it doesn't belong, calling you garbage. And then you blow a fuse. And then an ex comes on to you because he hears you're single again. You know what? Single is just a word; your heart decides your status, bucko.

So where is that vodka bottle? Let's make this day easier.

Found it!

(This is from a photo shoot for a cigar bar. Photo

cred to my photog in heaven Mia Photo.)

Fish, Clowns, & Going to the Dentist

Right now I'd happily hold the hand of a naked man rollerskating if it would make this pain in my tooth go away & I don't have to go to the dentist.

I'm not afraid of much, but the trifecta of my fear lies in the motley grouping that is fish, clowns and going to the dentist. The fish part is weird because I like being on the water and am known to drown worms on vacation ('being a stripper is a lot like being a fisherman--you gotta get used to the pole to be any good at it.'- me, on Otsego Lake), so I think it stems from my parents making me watch Jaws at the drive in when I was a child. Although I could escape the scene on the screen there was no escaping the sound from the speaker put illogically in the backseat window. Hearing the carnage was worse than seeing it for me.

The clowns stem from yet another This-Is-Fun-Idea my parents had. They decided to take me to a haunted house and after about 20 yards in my father realized their epic fail in guessing what I would find fun in my 7 year old world. Although I squeezed my eyes tight, I could still hear the eerie laughter and slaughter, and when my eyes popped unwillingly open there was the scariest clown I'd ever seen leering at me, arms outstretched. I screamed and practically crawled into my dad's jacket. Flash forward to the movie Killer Klowns from Outerspace that I unfortunately stumbled across on cable one day and that fear was solidified. Oye.

That brings me to my final fear frontier, one that I will have to face mouth-on in about an hour: going to the dentist. It all boils down to the same premise: I can close my eyes, but the sound of pulling, ganking, and drilling is going to be in my ears with me unable to escape the noise.  Add in the reality that the noises belong to my dental pieces being extracted from my mouth is enough to make me pass out before he even numbs the area. This is true, people.

The moral is if you want to scare me try the aural route. If aural was missing the U & R and replaced with an N, well, that'll scare me, too. Look, now I forgot about being scared of the dentist.

For a hot second.

What Doesn't Kill Us Makes a Good Story-Part 1

It has occured to me I haven't blogged in quite some time, and for that I apologize and you can take a beer from Pachenga Rick's cooler.


At the end of February I realized that I have lived through truly the SHITTIEST year of my life, but despite all the adversity I was still alive--and had a story to tell.


Here, in order and in a nutshell, are the proverbial details: Jan 2011 I was officiall divorced, 2 weeks later I had to put my 16 year old cat Stinky down, in February we had to face Hospice for my dad and in April we lost him to Lung Cancer (phucking Cancer sucks). In June I lost 3 of my 4 clients for CKPEP, and in August the nutjob of an editor for the magazine I was working for began his descent into questionable behaviour and in mid September he capped it by being jailed & oweing me money. I slipped into the poorhouse (pretty much) & decided it would be a good idea to start a new magazine w 2 people I barely knew. By the end of January 2012 I knew with blazing certinty that was the worst fucking idea and move in my ENTIRE spectacular life, and by the end of February there was a barrage of fuck you, you two are the worst people on the face of this Earth. Hello, life? Space Shuttle Challenger called and they want their firey explosion & disaster back.

Needless to say, between being dirt poor, trying to make a magazine work when no one but yourself seemed to care, and trying to deal with the emotional scars of losing a pet and your hero, and watching your beloved business slip considerably it was a tough chunk of calendar to deal with. I wouldn't call it writer's block in not being able to blog. I would call it fucking Lindsay Lohaning it.

I'm going to save part 2 for another blog, probably tomorrow even. But when I took a look back over the adversity I faced--me, a strong, smart, loving, goofball woman that takes no shit--I realized that I was still breathing. I COULD deal with it. I CAN survive above the garbage that was being hurled at my psyche & world. What shiny object did I see hanging at the end of the bar?

Grab a beer, and check here tomorrow. I promise it's not churchy, God-y, I-ve-been-saved-by-the-Baby-Jesus sort of thing. That's for people who go door to door. Nope, just good ol' being inspired to aspire once again...

Inside Macomb, Inside CK

Whew! Who knew starting a new business would be a great diet? Between long hours, meetings, legalities, and the work there's been no time to dine. But that's ok when one is excited about a new kick ass project that's going to go places. Welcome Inside Macomb--a monthly magazine that will serve as an all-access pass to nightlife and beyond in our county.

Now let me tell you a quick background as to how this project came about, 'cause there is a lil questioning about the how (I'm part Canadian, so hear that as a-boot).

We have kept underwraps pretty much why we've come to business for ONE reason: it's not our place to tell someone else's story. There are many compelling reasons how we came to be that we don't believe need to be 'put out there' to justify our existence, and that's that.

We saw a way to fill a void cleverly, consisely, PROFESSIONALLY, legally, and entertainingly. We pooled our resourses and came together as partners-- a nightlife noteable with 12 years of experience in all aspects bars, restaurants and nightclubs, a sunshiney tanning salon owner with 10 years of real estate, organization & networking under her belt, and the big muscle rounding out the trio bringing a successful bailbond business and LED screen media companyto the table-- to improve on an idea that had been previously attempted. We are here to put our spin on things happening in Macomb County, to do so in a way that's unique to our brand of craziness & fun. We're here for one purpose: to put out a proper, fun, entertaining & informative paper every month and on time. Ok, so maybe that's a couple purposes. You get the drift, catch my wind.

The first issues ready to be distributed!

We've solidified relationships all over the county (and beyond, spacechimp) and have done so for years. We feel that if our names don't speak for ourselves our product soon will. Score!

We're excited. We're also... raising an eyebrow? We know that there will be those who will mock, disapprove of either the content of how we came to be (of course, without knowing the whole story but we won't hold their simple uneducation of the sitch against them), and try to hone in on the turf... and that's ok. But we have already been posed against threats and rediculous conjecture. Folks taking piles of our mag & throwing them out, only to have them returned by the vigiliant staff watching.

So to all those who support me and my projects and know me, I thank you.  We are super excited about this, and we are poised to handle all rediculous situation with the same reasoning we started Inside Macomb: creatively,cleverly, consisely, PROFESSIONALLY, legally, and entertainingly.

Our first cover: a unique wrap around masterpiece.

Let's just call this next month a November to Remember.

Cheers!

Event Week Kicks My Ass All in the Name of a Boozy Good Time

Ah, 'tis the life to be an Event Planner. Due to these economic times I don't get to do big events all the time anymore, so when I DO get to jump in and get crack-a-lackin', oh, I don't do it half arsed. No sir.

Hottiefest is this Saturday, and I've been doing this yearly since 2002. Man, it is a great event but like I mentioned above,  the ecnomic times have brought it from HUGE glory at the beautiful Roostertail (where sponsors were Maxim Magazine, and I had co-hosts like Larissa Meeks from 'Average Joe: Hawaii' and DJs like Ozzy Osbourne's son DJ Louis) to a tailored down size but still with ALL the fun now at the Beach Grill. All the celebs are local and it's more intimate. It's awes.

It's Eastside partiers meet Lake St Clair boaters meet Mt Clemens rockers this year, and if the responses that I've been getting about the night come to fruition, well, expect another year of awesome sassy, sexy, hot summer nightlife fun. My favorite part I've always had is the pleasure of handling the event's 'Official Hotties'. Myself and John Schoenith (originator and all around awesome dude) & a couple peeps pick 20 of the areas hottest and socialable chicks we know to add to the ambiance. This year my girls are outfitted by local clothier Crime Shit, bringing a edgier look to the ladies. They will be holding court in the uber VIP area in the middle of the indoor-outdoor action on The Zman's boat, posing, hostessing, and showing you how you should be doing Hottiefest.

I'm going to miss Barbie & Jestin and their crew from The Playhouse Dolls (now Visual Talent) and Jeff Blackburn (of Empire 7), but their memory and images are etched in videos and pictures from years past. <3

Thank you, John, for letting me be a big part of this sick summer event. I love it, appreciate you, and let's keep this party going forever. At least that's my goal.

How Sleepless in Seattle Influenced Crap I Like

Friday night in 'The Clem' and I am left to my own devices to entertain myself this fine Friday evening. With vodka in hand and the MSU victory in the bag (& me on my way to being half in the bag), I surf thru the channels to the free movie channels. I bypassed the porn (honestly, not a fan) and I find I have to choose between 'Fast & the Furious' and 'Sleepless in Seattle.' I tried 'FnF' first but no uh uh. So I go with the tried and true 'SIS'. Plus I have boobs & a vag: I'm gonna watch the chick flick.

As I'm watching, I realize that this 1993 movie has --unbeknownst to me-- had a lot of influence on me through the years. How? Sadly read on.

*The radio she has. It's a Sharp Slimline retro looking one. I had a pink one. I really want another one.
*Her robe. Over Christmas my mom gave me money and the job to buy my brothers, my BFs & my Christmas present. I agonized at Meijers over the red or the pink plush robe that was heavenly in texture. I picked the pink (i <3 pink) but have always wanted a red one, prob because of this movie.
*I always wear slouchy white socks when I'm kicking back at home. At least until my Uggs took their place.
*The megaphone on her staircase. I have one next to my entryway table.
*The one piece PJs and even the white gown. Ok, so my current onesie has the Playboy logo all over it and an assflap, but still... it looked comfy (as did the white gown) and I owned one of those, too.
*The soundtrack. I still love that music, and I still swoon over Perry Como.
*I don't like older guys, but Victor Garber is hot even in this movie and I'd go AARP for him.
*I'm a freakin' journalist like 'Annie' is in the movie. WTF.
*I always live my life not wanting 'What if' moments. I do what I want cause I don't ever want to think 'What if I would have...'
*Her Barnum & Bailey retro poster in her kitchen? Well, I have 'Gentlemen Prefer Blondes' & 'Where the Boys Are' vintage original movie posters on MY walls, along with 'Bikini Beach', 'Surf Party', and one other one that's escaping my mind.
*The annoying little girl's abbreviations? Yeah, I have those for my clients. While my clients are NOT annoying, I find the abbreviations helpful. Plus typing out Teddy's Times Square, Dooley's Irish Pub, or Your Mother's Food & Spirits are way more time consuming & cut into beer drinking time than TTS, DP or YM do.

Gentlemen Prefer Blondes movie poster, as promised.

Ok, I'm sure there's more. But I haven't blogged in a month and felt it necessary to get back into the groove. I'll never blog about something that isn't silly or entertaining at the very least. So you are welcome for that.

I'll probably never know why the influence happened. I'm sure it's not because the nutbag guy I was dating at the time had a thing for Meg Ryan and I soooo wanted to impress him and be like HER just to make him like me more.... stupid early 20s.

Plus it's funny when Tom Hanks & my pretend BF Victor Garber make fun of Rita Wilson's character. Trini Lopez. Yeah, I'll go with that.

A Family that Farts Together, Stays Together

"Aunt Kiki, pull my finger."

Nothing's funnier than a fart joke, and I'm sorry--the hilariousity factor just doubles when you discover your 11 year old nephew has inheritated the family 'pull my finger' gene.

My only nephew, Tyler, is one funny kid. His father is a funny kid. His grandfather, Papa, is, well, a funny kid. His aunt  (btw, any of you address me as Aunt Kiki in public and I will fistf*ck, double suicide bukake shriek you into next year) is clearly a goofball. Hell, you read my blog & follow me on FB & the Twit--you know what you're in for. He's a well adjusted, adorable, acute, artistic, athletic wee dude. He plays AMAZING hockey. He's fast as screaming diahrhea on the ice, and his hockey bag kinda smells like it. He ran a Fantasy Football League this year (kicking his Aunt Kiki's arse resoundly), and the bugger even WON $50 in squares at Super Bowl. He loves Stat-O-Matic baseball, football & hockey, fishing,boating and he's a pretty mean baseball player, too. Ty's been rockin' out to Eminem since he knew what music was.

His sixth summer we had a family picnic at the 'rents and he suddenly stopped playing with his legos on the picnic table. He looked up, looked around with an excited look on his face, and said sincerely: "My ice cream senses are tingling." We were like huh? Then we heard the far away tones of 'Pop goes the weasel' and we could do nothing but laugh our collective arses off and pull out coins for a push-up.

He was five and being picked up from school. He was almost to the car when he suddenly stopped. He looked a little distraught and as he sighed deep and shrugged his shoulders simply stated: "Shit. I forgot my colorings." Ya can't discipline him because he used it in proper context, but it sure makes for difficulty trying not to laugh.

He just celebrated his birthday and my gift was a lame $20 bill. I didn't even wrap it. Bad, Aunt Kiki. So this is my nod of my cap to you, my dear nephew. I may not come to all your hockey games, but you mean the world to me, kiddo. You're a spitting image of everything your daddy was your age and it's neat watching you grow up. Now go... I think Papa has a finger that needs pulling.

Big Game, Meet My Big Mouth: Who to Cheer for Today

It's my Christmas, my New Years, my 4th of July all rolled into one holiday: Super Bowl Sunday is HERE!

I'm a big football fan. I love college ball, the NFL, and even Arena Football (after all I was a cheerleader for the Detroit Drive 'back in the day'). College ball is different from the pro leagues. There's the excitement of the marching bands, the cheerleaders, the school spirit, the boosters. On Super Sunday, it seems like the NFL takes on that same atmosphere.

I have been resigned to never seeing my beloved Lions in a Super Bowl, so each year when it comes down to the head to head hero match up for all the marbles, I'm forced into a precarious pick between two teams I'm usually not a fan of. Bring on the Packers vs the Steelers.

Do I cheer for the Lambeau Leap (which I love), the cheese head, Miller beer, and Aaron Rodgers of the Packers? Do I cheer for the Terrible Towel, Heinz ketchup and Clark bars, and the team that brought legends Terry Bradshaw and Jerome Bettis?

Do I cheer for the flowing blonde locks of Clay Matthews or black curls of Troy Polamalu?

I do know what I AM DOING: after years of having to take care of every aspect of hosting a party for a client, I get to be a pure spectator at Your Mother's in Mt Clemens. I am going to watch all the commercials. I am going to stuff my face with pizza and wings (they have the biggest BEST wings evah!), drink copious amounts of beer, and yell my head off for every good play, no matter who made it. I'm a cheerleader at heart and always will be.

But since I DO have to coordinate an outfit, I'm going to go with one of my favorite fun peeps in the world and her family (thank you, Michelle Urben & mom & dad Urben) I am leaning towards the Steelers. Besides, blondes rock the color black.

Either way, drink lots, eat lots, cheer lots, and celebrate the beauty that is professional football. Then go hang around the locker room exits and try to snag you a rich player.

One Stink I Wouldn't Mind Having Around Forever

I had to put down my beloved cat Stinky on Sunday.

I knew Stinkster had been sick for awhile; at least 3 years. He had kidney failure, a hyperthyroid, & an upper respitory infection--a triple whammy for a 15 year old furbaby. He'd had some 'episodes' the past few months and I knew his time was coming, but it doesn't make it anymore easier.

I'll skip the details on how I found him Sunday, but here's how I found him in August 1996. I got him from a vet who had walked up to the office that morning and found a box at his door containing a litter of kittens and a bigger cat who obviously was placed in the box after it was dropped off. I wanted boy kitties, so I took Stinky and the bigger cat. As it turns out, the bigger cat was only a few months older than Stinky (oh! That would be Mr. Meow-gi) and they've been as thick as thieves from beginning to end.

He got his name cause he'd fart if you picked him up and he didn't like you. And believe me, this cat can float an air biscuit.

Stinky & Mr. M have traveled with me for 15 years, through apartments, through boyfriends, a failed marriage... I even came home once and found my apartment screen popped open (by them) and realized they had gotten out. Luckily the next door neighbor found them and kept them for me. Either way, these two fur balls of fire have brought me a lot of entertainment and unconditional love for a long time, and I cherish them.

I brought another furbaby in with Hank. He's 3 now and I found him 3 years ago on the side of Groesbeck just north of 16 Mile Road in a puddle on a rainy day. Yes, all my pets have been rescues, but to me they have the perfect pedigree to receive love and a good home and so much more.

Stinky was an odd looking guy. He looked like he was always dishelved and he'd always been skinny, and he had the most oddly looking, long and thin tail. He was always beautiful to me. He would join me in my office, sitting on my work or wanting to sit on my lap while I was on the computer. Stinkers also had an affinity for bathtubs. He'd even climb and sit on the rim of the tub while I was having my bubble baths ('Stinky! It's baftime!') He was my buddy through and through.

He also liked to sleep on my pillow on my head, and more recently on B's pillow on B's head (probably cause he knew B was allergic to him.) I can also honestly say B is the only boyfriend I've had who's been allergic to cats... and he's the ones my kitties have been the coolest to. Especially Stinky.

I'm dealing, I'm coping. I feel like he's still here and isn't gone. Is that wierd? I also know he's on one side of the Rainbow Bridge, 'kooking out' against a tree or in a valley, begging for table scraps (seriously, what cats beg?), loving some catnip, and probably meeting up with Rookie and Osh Kosh (other family pets chillin' til we get there on our side). I keep second guessing my decision, keep seeing his eyes when they took him... but I know he was in pain. I was being selfish keeping him here. It's up to us as furparents to make the best decisions for them, to be their voice. I hope I've done my best for Stinky the past 15 years. When he's missed his box because of his kidney failure, I've simply said 'It's ok, bud. You keep poopin' and I'll keep cleanin'.' I've given in and made sure he's had plenty of canned food, dry food, rotisserie chicken, cheese, yogurt... whatever he's wanted. And love. Lots and lots of love.

So tonight, give your pet a little extra hug, a little extra treat. Pets are precious, they are our buds... unconditionally.

You'll be missed, Stinky. This is for you. It's your song... and I know you know it, bud. Miss you.

(Aerosmith has a song called 'Pink.' I came up with lyrics on the fly one day just for my furbuddy and renamed it 'Stink'. He somehow always responded to it when I sang it for him, silly kitty.)

Stink-is my little kitty.
Stink-likes to roll in his litty.
Stink-likes to lay on wet towels.
And Stink likes to clear out his bowels.

Stink-his brother is Emmy.
Stink- cause he is so very.
Stink- begs at the refrigarator.
And Stink is the cat flagulatorrrrr... Owwww!

Stink-it was love at first siiiiiight
Stink-when we turn out the liiiiiight
(and that's as far as I got... but it was ok with him.)

Mayor McCheese Doesn't Rule Mickey D's; I Do. Foursquare Said So.

Hold on -- I gotta check in.

I love Foursquare. It's the closest thing to a videogame addiction I've had since I met the Ms. Pac-Man machine in my youth.  Foursquare is part competition, part fun guide, part marketing tool. You 'check in' at locations via your cell phone. How? Your phone's GPS tells the Foursquare app where your location is.

You also have a choice of letting your friends see your location or you can go 'Off the Grid' and uncheck the 'show your friends' box. Now no one knows you're trolling the 8 Mile and Woodward corridor for a lady-of-the-night, and your stalkers have to work that much harder at finding you.

Foursquare users can earn badges by checking into certain places. For example, after five 'check ins' to a Starbucks one can earn a 'Barrista Badge' or by 'checking in' to a certin number of bars in one night one can earn a 'Crunked Badge.' Then there are Mayorships. Simply check into a venue the most times and you've become the Mayor (I currently hold 19 Mayorships including 2 bars, a tanning salon, a Mc Donalds, & a Tim Hortons. And of course where I live.)

Mayorships are a hot competition among some groups of friends. Hell, my cousin has to fight for not only the Mayorship of  'The Rec Bowl's Secret Basement Shitter' but his friends gleefully keep after the crown for 'Kotila's Crapper' at his house. Poor dude.

Then there are the 'Fauxsquares'. Those are douchebags who try to be the Mayor of everything and 'check in' at places they aren't at. This one dude was doing just that and it so happened that 2 of the places he was perpatrating were the 2 bars I represent--and he was checking in when the place wasn't even open. I may be a nerd for busting him out, but how big a douche is he for even doing it in the first place? Please...

Anyhoo, businesses can utilize Foursquare for marketing by encouraging users to 'check in' to their venue. This does a few things. 1-It is showing their friends where they are (free real time marketing). 2-If they have it linked to Twitter or Facebook it shows up in their newsfeed (and usually these social butterflies do because they think everyone wants to know every facet of their highly interesting lives) (oh, more free real time marketing to a now bigger audience). 3-Everyone likes something for nothing, so if you offer a free coffee or soft drink, 1/2 off an entree, a percentage off a service just for checking in it's like a coupon without spending $800 for a Valpak circular. Plus repeat customers are a nice commodity.

If you check out http://www.foursquare.com/ , you can get a buttload of information: what badges you can earn, what big name places are offering specials (Chili's give free chips and salsa for checking in & there's a TON more places offering cool stuff), and more on the hows.

As for the whys, speaking for myself, well I think everyone wants to know every facet of this social butterfly's highly interesting life. And that 'Socialite Badge' is just one check in out of my reach...

B's Rediculous Girlfriend and Time Travel

I woke up this morning a legally single girl, so yes, there was some celebrating last night. As I pried open my eyes and tried to ignore the classroom-sized globe of pain that seemed to have lodged itself behind my eyes and in my gray matter (which is quite uncharacteristic for me), I realized I sort of, well, time traveled to that point. I stumbled to the bathroom, evacuated the swill from the night before from my bladder, gobbled a couple Tylenol (who am I kidding; non-asprin generics), and shuffled back to the bed.  My boyfriend opened his eyes and bid me a good morning with that sort of look that meant I was about to receive some verbal souveniers of my little time travel. Uh oh.

"Didja have fun last night, honey?"

I just decided to own up to whatever embarrassing escapade I made myself the center of. Besides, I figured it would throw him off. "You have a rediculous girlfriend."

All of us have those nights that we just let loose, have a few too many, and end up time traveling. For the uninitiated, 'time traveling' is what you do when you remember up to a point of your night before... and then you wake up in the morning. It's ok, and don't fret. Just know that you'll more than likely find out exactly what you did via camera phone pictures or innuendo on Facebook statuses. Or your better half will gleefully fill you in on your mini vacation from the land of the coherent and concious.

Which is what B did, further propaganding that he, in fact, has a rediculous girlfriend.


(Thank you, B, for loving me no matter what. You are an absolute angel with the strongest shoulders of anyone I know.)

Overpromoting Your Event Makes People Want to Punch Babies

Let's not lie; we're addicted to Facebook like a fat kid to cake. Personal-wise folks use it to catch up with friends, find old pals, and play Farmville. But businesses use it, too, to promote their products or services. As a marketing peep, one avenue I'm both a fan and detester of is when it comes to 'Events.'

I love that bars, restaurants and people can create events -- say a wine tasting called 'Hollywood & Wine' or a fundraiser to Save the Bottlenosed Platypus-- and invite their peeps. It's a GREAT central hub for the event to communicate with attendees, answer questions, keep track of who's coming or not, and so forth (keeping in mind that not everyone is on Facebook, those silly clueless dinosaurs. You still need an old-fashioned source of organizing, say a notebook and pen.)

What makes me want to punch babies is this situation: one club/event enlists multiple promoters. If you're 'friends' with each one, you get a seperate invite from each one. Then in the newsfeed for the two weeks prior you see each person's version of 'Dude! THIS party is going to be OFF the HOOK, yo!' or 'If you're not at THIS party you're nowhere, bro!' or --my personal eye claw out -- 'HeY! hitme up for tx if u wana come this parteee is goin to be of the HiZzY banging models popin bottles you whut im sayin so cum on out be sumone.'

Really? THIS person is representing your venue or event? But I digress.

Even though the above situation is abhorrent, there is one more heinous abuse of our beloved Facebook when it comes to the multiple promoter event at a venue. It is the 'Photo Tag'.

It's great and convenient that we get to tag our friends in photos from that day on the lake or New Year's Eve. That's what the 'Tag' function is made for. Individuals that download a flyer for the event as a photo and then proceed to 'tag' everyone in their network in it is absolutely, hands down the most grotesque lack of respect of their friends. There is one situation where it is OK--and that's if who is 'tagged' is involved in the event somehow. That makes sense. So now we have the 'Photo Tags' of the offending flyer clogging the newsfeed  along with the way earlier mentioned invites.

There is a respectful solution. Have ONE person create the Event. Make the others 'Organizers' and give them access to be able to invite their peeps. Promoter A will go down his list and invite friends, but when Promoters B, C and Fred come to the same name in their network, THAT name will already be shaded to clue them that that person has already been invited by someone else. Racous joy! And just say no to the 'Photo Tag' unless you're tagging the other organizers or peeps involved.

Or prepared to be blocked.

Marketing is not a cure for sucking

God, I love that phrase.

When I saw the quote (it's from a gentleman named Mark Schmulen) I did my best Macauley Culkin in 'Home Alone' fist move puncutated with an enthusiastic YES! No truer words could be spoken when it comes to marketing. I mean really: no matter how you gift wrap it, crap is still crap.

Marketing, in simplest details, is the art of creating an enticing buzz about something to try to get you to buy it.

As a marketing person, I have to believe in the venue or product I'm marketing, as I have these wierd things called standards and something called business ethics. I won't say or push something that isn't true or I don't believe in. I feel a responsibility to the people who follow me and my opinion, and I really do feel pride when folks say, "Well, if CK says it's a groovy place then it must be a groovy place." It warms the cockels of my heart to know my judgement is trusted.

I mean seriously, how many times have you seen posts/ads/marketing pieces on a venue claiming they're 'the HOTTEST new club,' 'the HOTTEST staff,' 'EVERYONE parties here.' Oh please. The world is huge; you can't possibly know everyone, let alone fit them in one venue.

If a restaurant doesn't produce quality food or a business doesn't provide quality service or product, HOW can one feasibly create a marketing campaign for that food, service or product?

Before starting a marketing campaign, make sure what you're about to market is at the top of its game and have enough inventory. Sure, you may be able to pull folks in with the campaign, but imagine what will happen to your bottom line and invested dollars if they get crappy service/product and then turn to their network of people and spew about how awful it was or the let down they encountered. No es bueno.

Word of mouth is really WORLD of mouth, thanks to the internet.

Sites like Yelp and Urbanspoon allow people to post their opinion in real time on places, services or products and other people can read them. Don't even get me started on what opinions posted in status updates on Facebook can do to make or break your business.

Hey, opinions are like assholes: everyone has one. Just do your best to make sure what you're marketing is quality and not crap to ensure a positive opinion and proper representation. And keep some Preperation H or Desitin on hand just incase.

Ok. All this damn talk about blogs...

I really need to call my mom. I haven't talked to her in a couple of days, but there's this nagging thing called 'getting a blog' that I've been meaning to do and haven't. Guess I went and do'd it what with this entry, so here it is. Blog.

I recently scored a dream position as a reporter for Patch.com in St Clair Shores and in the Utica/Shelby Twp area of SE Michigan, and I get to report on entertainment, bars, restaurants, bands, and other fun stuff surrounding nightlife. How cool is that?! Anyhoo, a Social Media maven buddy of mine said I next needed to get one of these blog things. He was right. He said that people will want to follow me and where I'm reporting on and a blog was perfect for it. He was right again. So thank you, Joe Barnes, for being the dynamite under my puckered starfish to get this moving.

What lit the fuse is that I'm about to re-embark on hosting trivia. Yeah, yeah... I got in on the 'live trivia' bandwagon back in 2004 when I started hostessing a night at a bar I was working at. I turned their dead night into a live one, more than tripleing their night's take. Yay for them... didn't score me any more moolah. But it was fun and ran for quite a few years. I've moved my show around a little, and 'retired' for a hot sec. Now I'll be back Thursdays at Your Mother's (hahahah! You read right. My client is actually named Your Mother's! And once I learn how to link to their FB page, I'll do so.) and I want to add a bit of 'unfair internet advantage' to it by blogging some secret answers or hints or something. I don't have it exactly fingered out yet (hell, look at how long it took me to get here, dear reader), but I'm sure I will very shortly.

So that's my first blog. I promise to entertain or at least make you smile with each read. Cheers!