“Write about the last time you stayed in a hotel.”- A prompt from Mama Kat.

Earlier this month, my family and I went to Miami for a college visit.  Unfortunately for us, it was Spring Break for many schools and we had a difficult time finding a hotel room.  In desperation we used Priceline’s Price Negotiator for the first time.  Our bid was excepted and we got a great deal on a swanky hotel right on South Beach.  We were thrilled….or was this deal too good to be true?

Problem #1:  There was only one bed in the room.  No fault of the hotel; we didn’t read Priceline’s small print that only guarantee’s a room to accommodate 2 people.  There were 4 of us, so this was a problem.  Luckily the hotel was helpful and we were able to upgrade (for a fee of course) to a room with 2 beds for 2 of the 3 nights we stayed there.  On the third night, my son slept on the floor.

Problem #2:  The bathroom.

This is the bathroom.  With the door closed.  See the toilet?  That was our view from any angle in the room.  The bathroom had a transparent door!   I guess this is supposed to be sexy?  It is not.  Maybe the designer had some kind of sexual/bathroom fetish?  There is no way to explain this design.  I do not want to see anyone use the toilet, not even my husband.

The situation called for some creative Ma-Gyvering by me: I took a walking umbrella and hooked it on the door handle and laid it across the door.  Then I hung a towel over the umbrella.  This maneuver could only be fashioned once inside the bathroom and took quite a bit of skill.  So much so, that it wasn’t worth it if we were just using the toilet for peeing.  In that case, the person in need yelled, “I’m peeing!” and everyone else in the room turned away.  Then they yelled, “I’m done!” when they were finished.  This lasted for 2 days and nights.   Thankfully we didn’t spend too much time in the hotel room!

Problem #3: We moved to the room with one bed for the third night.  As we entered the new room, we were happy to see that while the bathroom still had a transparent door, the bathroom was around the corner from the beds.  We could now use the bathroom without someone staring right at us.   Unfortunately the bathroom door was left open and I ran *smack!*  right into the invisible door.  I almost passed out from the pain as a very large goose egg immediately appeared on my forehead.  I still have it.

Wait…are you laughing at me or with me?

I’m linking up with Mama Kat, you should too.

© 2012, Funkidivagirl.com. All rights reserved. Republished only with permission.

I met Whitney Houston once or twice.  I know her family, so it wasn’t a surprise when I met her, but it was still a thrill.  She was normal and down to earth, but I don’t think I said two words to her because she is after all, Whitney.

Like everyone else in the world, I thought she was a phenomenal singer, but more than anything I remember her as the skinny-legged, pretty black girl on the cover of Seventeen.   As a skinny black girl too, I didn’t see myself often represented on the cover of teen fashion magazines.  She was an inspiration.  Only much later did I connect the dots between the girl-model and the powerful voice.

I’m linking up with Mama Kat by answering the prompt: Share a Whitney Houston song that meant something to you.

© 2012, Funkidivagirl.com. All rights reserved. Republished only with permission.

Today I am participating in Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop by answering the prompt:  3.) Something that scared the Hell out of you as a child.

The Isley Brothers’s song “Footsteps In The Dark”  scared the Hell out of me as a child.   I love the song now–and Ice Cube’s sample of it in “Today Was A Good Day”–but when I was little the haunting melody and the words “dark” and “footsteps” sent chills up my spine.

When I was little, I used to visit my aunt.  She had  a teenage son and my other cousin used to hang around the house as well.   The boys had turned the family room into their music listening room–complete with big speakers, a black light and a big red furry lounge chair.  I would lounge on the chair while my cousins listened to The Isley Brothers.  They didn’t know I was scared or they would have run me out the room.  I wanted to hang out with the big kids, so I pretended to be cool, but as I lay on that big furry chair in a dark wood-paneled room,  I was silently freaking out.   Theirs was an old house with long corridors, dark corners and creaky old house sounds.  After listening to The Isley Brothers I would lie awake at night, sure that monster footsteps in the dark were coming to get me.

Of course now I can appreciate this song, but just listen to it from the ears of a little girl; SCARY!

Visit Mama Kat’s Losin It to write a prompt of your own.

© 2011, Funkidivagirl.com. All rights reserved. Republished only with permission.

Real Simple is one of my favorite magazines and not just because I am Ma-Gyver.   The essays are very good; they are funny, poignant or just dead-on.   I could really relate to the Life Lessons essay in the October 2011 issue.  In Get Me Outta Here, Judith Newman writes in (hilarious) detail about why it is painful for her to be a guest in someone’s home.   Judith, like me, it just a wee bit too particular and quirky to live in someone else’s world, if but for a weekend.   Here are just a couple of Judith’s The Many Ways Things Can Go Wrong When You Stay With People:

People hide the items you need most.   Where’s the coffee? No, not that decaffeinated imposter; the real coffee. No wonder everyone in this house is still asleep at 6:30 a.m. Fine, I will just go out and buy coffee at the corner store. Oh wait, there’s no store at the corner—that’s a pond.

It’s 6:30 a.m. and all I want to do at this point is run home.

I will be repeating the same interior monologue at midnight, only this time it will be about gin cocktails. I mean, what kind of people don’t keep their limes in plain sight?

People in other houses eat things that are not, in fact, edible.   I think the idea is that when you’re having guests, the experience must involve “special food,” and “special food” nine times out of 10 is completely horrifying. Seriously, if octopus really tasted that good, wouldn’t there be Octo Shacks dotting America?

Of course, I also despise people who make a big to-do about their precious little eating habits. So I say nothing. Instead, now and then, I bring little treats with me that I like and, naturally, intend to share. Occasionally this goes over well. “How thoughtful!” the host exclaims. More often, though, she shoots me an icy stare: Oh, my cooking isn’t good enough for you?

I agree with Judith; I like my stuff and where I put it.  It makes perfectly good sense to me.  Your stuff and it’s placement does not.  Lest you think I am only quirky one in my family (that is usually the case, but not this time) my husband has a rule: he doesn’t drink milk in anyone else’s kitchen.  He says that other people’s milk taste funny.    Sounds about right to me, although I’m sure this makes us terrible houseguests.  Refusing to drink your milk even though you say “it’s perfectly good milk” would likely offend you.

And that is why we stay in hotels.

It is also why we still have friends.

What about you; are you a good houseguest?  

© 2011, Funkidivagirl.com. All rights reserved. Republished only with permission.

Poking around in an old school candy and toy shop in Idyllwild, California, I found some new additions for my bookshelf toy collection: Speed Racer and Racer X, racing nemesis (and brothers! gasp!), together at last.

© 2011, Funkidivagirl.com. All rights reserved. Republished only with permission.