The Three Stages Of Embarrassment

The shrimpys.

They just loooooooooooooove to give up their succulent little lives for Rupe’s dining pleasure.

Just last Friday, Rupe and family took a jaunt to Red Lobster to partake of their “endless shrimp” promotion. As noted elsewhere, Red Lobster lost money on that promotion when we went to dine that eve. You see .... when the shrimpys are on the menu and Rupe comes to dinner, you best get comfortable. Rupe ..... he loves the shrimpys.

So, it comes time to retell the tale of ‘The Three Stages Of Embarrassment’ at a buffet. A cautionary, true-life tale both humorous and memorable.

Rupe and his boss had been working all the live long day one Thursday in hot, sunny Las Vegas. They were in town for a Heavy Duty Truck Show. Rupe and boss had ventured out early in the morning, worked and walked the floor of the show a goodly part of the day and finally took off to see what they could see in the way of dinner. Rupe and boss hadn’t eaten at all that day and they were famished. Morning coffee was all they’d had, so the thought of food was all consuming. Suggestions were bandied about and Rupe requested somewhere with seafood as that sounded scrumptious and appealing.

It was decided the Flamingo buffet was the destination. Rupe and boss knew the Flamingo’s buffet was a fully stocked one with a bevy of selections and a reasonably priced one during the week. $18.00 a pop was a good deal for the company budget.

As Rupe and boss took their seats, after having made an initial run through the buffet complete with drinks ordered and the waiter having made certain everything was okee dokey, Rupe asked Jefe: “Hey ... have you ever heard of ‘The Three Stages Of Embarrassment’ at a buffet?”

“Nope. But I’m certain you’re going to tell me, aren’t you?” replied Jefe. “Endulge me: what are ‘The Three Stages Of Embarrassment’ at a buffet?”

Rupe took a sip of his lemon water and began pointing at a passing diner. “Well, there goes the first one right there. See that guy? See the foot-high pile of food spilling over his plate? That’s damned embarrassing, don’tcha think? Especially being this is a buffet and he can go back as many times as he likes. Why the need to shovel a mile of food to overflowing on his dish when he doesn’t appear to be emaciated? That, Jefe, is ‘The First Stage Of Embarrassment’ at a buffet.”

The boss nodded his head in agreement. “Yup. You’re right about that. That is embarrassing. Speaking of embarrassing, you think you have enough shrimp there?” Rupe’s boss asked, noting Rupe’s loaded plate.

“Hey ... you come to a buffet with me with seafood on the menu, you better get comfortable. You know that. So, get comfortable ...” Rupe replied.

Rupe and boss continued eating. They noted the highlights and low lights of the day. The next day’s itinerary was planned. A few more trips to the buffet were committed.

Throughout dinner, Rupe strategically placed table tents and glasses and condiment holders and the like between Rupe and boss. Rupe had a plan. The boss was unsuspecting.

“So ... what’s ‘The Second Stage Of Embarrassment’?” the boss queried.

“Well,” Rupe began, “Our little friend over there with the mile-high plate is about to leave. And check it out: All the food he piled on his plate? Half of it’s still there. That’s ridiculous. Not to mention it’s almost criminal. Thus: ‘The Second Stage Of Embarrassment’ at a buffet.”

“Yikes! You’re right! Why in the world .....” But Rupe’s boss let the questions trail off. Embarrassment was embarrassment and that’s all there is to it. Sometimes, there’s no need to question it ... nor is there a point in doing so.

Dinner was coming to a close. Both Rupe and boss had had their fill and were wondering whether there was any room for dessert. Jefe ordered coffee. Rupe sat back, contented, with his little plan in place.

As dinner progressed, Rupe had meticulously lined up all the little shrimpy tails on the rim of his used dinner plates. They were aligned perfectly on the plates’ edges - tail after shrimpy tail after shrimpy tail after shrimpy tail. Those shrimpy tails, outlining the rims of those plates, looked as if they were in formation, awaiting the commencement of some tune in order to begin a little circular march. There were hundreds of shrimpy tails. Literally.

With dinner finally finished, Jefe sat back, declared his gut stuffed to bursting and asked the final question of the evening: “Okay: I’ve heard the first and second; what, pray tell, is ‘The Third Stage Of Embarrassment’ at a buffet?”

“This!”

Rupe removed the table tents and glasses and condiments to reveal the little shrimpy plate frames. “This is ‘The Third Stage Of Embarrassment’.”

Jefe saw the plates and guffawed. Loudly. “Holy Crap! That’s embarrassing!” he exclaimed.

Just then, the waiter came to see what the commotion was about. He spied the shrimpys on the table in their circuitous little formations and shot his hand to his mouth: “Wow! I mean wow! I’ve never seen anything like that in my life! That’s a work of art! I should hang those on the wall for everyone to see! Mario! Get over here! Take a look at this - you’re not gonna believe it!” he yelled in disbelief to a fellow employee.

Rupe’s boss Jefe laughed anew whilst sinking deeper into his seat, not certain if he wanted the shrimpy plates to draw any more attention than they already had.

“Jeez! I think you’ve just added a new stage of embarrassment to your little list!”

The shrimpys.

They just loooooooooooooove to give up their succulent little lives for Rupe’s dining pleasure.

...................... ( STOP )

P Dummy .....

In our current state of affairs, with goofy headlines such as these:

• ... Rove calls Biden 'blowhard doofus'
• ... Pizza guy films Gustav tornado
• ... Raccoon rips holes in wall, grabs food Video T-shirt
• ... Airline removes life vests to save weight and fuel

..... Rupe's trying exceptionally hard to cool his heels, keep his temper in check and not rail wildly about the stupidity of the story below .....

Fuel Prices Hit Rap Mogul P Diddy

Multi-millionaire hip-hop producer P Diddy has been forced to ground his private jet due to rising fuel prices.

The 38-year-old, whose real name is Sean Combs has said he will only fly with commercial airlines until the price of oil has come down.

Combs claims that two round-trips between Los Angeles and New York on board his personal jet now costs him around £108,000.

On his YouTube blog titled "Diddy Blog #12 - Gas Prices Are Too High", Diddy said: "As you know, I do own my own jet and I have been flying back and forth to LA pursuing my acting career.

"Now, if I'm flying back and forth, like, twice in a month that's like $200,000 or $250,000 round trip. F* that. I'm back on American Airlines right now, OK.

"This is proof that gas prices are too high, we need to do something about it, so tell whoever the next president is that we need to bring gas back down."

The successful US rap star who owns his own record label, clothing and perfume line, is said to be worth around £188 million.

Seriously. What an asshat.

There's so much within this blurby little news piece that is head-shakingly obvious it doesn't need to be highlighted.

The utter comedy within this story says it all. Check that: It ain't comedy - it's tragedy.

............................. Ruprecht shakes his head and says ( STOP the insanity )

P.S. "Rove calls Biden 'blowhard doofus" ... ??? Really ... ?!?!? Cool ... !!!

Conversation .....

Harold and Maude had just escaped the heat of the day to refresh themselves with a quick fast food meal at a local Weinerschnitzel. After ordering, both sat down at an empty booth when an argument between two unseen employees broke out behind the counter. One was yelling at the other in Spanish:

“¡Mirar! ¡No me importa lo que usted piensa que sí, no es trabajo! ¡Ese es el tercer cliente del que traté de hacer una cosa y salió otra… después de que usted ha dicho usted fija bien desde la primera vez! ¡Ahora salir allí y cambiar la contraseña de root beer!”

(Translation: “Look! I don’t care what you think you did, it’s not working! That’s the third customer that’s tried to get one thing and it came out another … after you said you fixed it right the first time! Now get out there and change the root beer!”)

Harold and Maude looked at each other and smiled.

“Geez! What was that all about? But more importantly, don’t they have a word in Spanish for root beer?” Maude asked.

“No, they don’t,” Harold responded.

“That’s just dumb. You’d think they could say “root beer”! They have to use English words to say it?”

“What restaurant are you sitting in?” Harold asked.

“Weinerschnitzel,” Maude replied.

“That’s right. And there is no translation for “Weinerschnitzel” in English. So what are you going to call it? You’re going to call it “Weinerschnitzel”, just as you’ve done since you first learned the word,” Harold explained. “Not everything translates ..... and English isn’t the be all, end all …”

Moral: Dogs and root beer usually go together. (That is ... if you can make yourself understood when you order'em .....)

........................................ Ruprecht ( STOP )

If you have a better moral, post it, Diego .....

Andy Prieboy's "Bands" Put To Video .....

A video by Edwin Vacek.

How many bands or individuals can you recognize ... ???

Bands

"And I told her about the bands
And the bands I led, the bands I joined and bands I fled.
Bands I dug,
Bands I knew
Grand old bands and bands brand new

This band that band every damn band
Every damn band known to either god or man
This band that band every damn band
Every damn band known to either god or man ..."

.......................................... Ruprecht ( STOP )

This ... This Is A Hero .....

Would you like to read about a hero? Here you go .....

................................................. Ruprecht ( STOP )

Dream A Little Dream .....

I had an interesting dream this morning. Would you like to share it?

In my dream, a friend and I went to a concert. We parked in a field with hundreds of other cars and I knew it would be difficult to not only find the car later after the concert, but it would be a madhouse getting out of the place once the concert was over.

In my dream, he walked from the car to the venue where the concert was being held and it took a long time to get there. I saw the venue finally and thought, at first, it was the Hollywood Bowl ..... but it wasn't. It was a smallish hole-in-the-wall arena with a curved stage and a single layer of seating, no balcony. But it must have held a good eight hundred people.

In my dream, the lights dimmed and the concert began. Classical music began to swell and the stage lights slowly came up to reveal an odd assortment of performers. More were wearing everyday clothes, shorts, T-shirts, jeans. Some had tuxedos on, some dressed casually. It was an interesting mish-mosh of performers.

In my dream, the arrangements for the music were played similar to that of Peter Schickele and I was pleasantly surprised. It was very enjoyable.

In my dream, the stage began to move backward. The floor was opening up in front of the performers and a pool slowly came into view. Right in the middle of an especially interesting arrangement, the lead percussionists began falling into the pool comically. I don't know why, but it made for a grand spectacle.


In my dream, William Shatner came on stage and grabbed a two of the cellists sitting off to one side and forced them into the pool with him. Water splashed liberally into the audience at those sitting closest to the front. That was their cue to begin jumping in the water. Several did.

In my dream, I saw many in the audience had had enough of this weird concert and they arose to leave. But more and more people decided they wanted to join the fray and leapt into the pool, doing cannonballs and dives. I looked and saw my friend getting wet and undecided of what to do. I tugged at his shirt sleeve, motioning him into the pool. He just looked at me as I dove in.

In my dream, the concert progressed still. I started singing while swimming in the pool. I recall not singing very well, but giving it a go nevertheless.


In my dream, Piers Morgan - judge on "America's Got Talent" and winner of "Celebrity Apprentice" - suddenly swam casually up to me and asked: "Were you singing?" I responded I was. "Don't," he suggested.

In my dream, everyone began exiting the pool. The concert was over. I was one of the last in the pool to get out. William Shatner swam by me. "What a great concert!" he offered, enthusiastically.

In my dream, we made our way to our seats where some of out outer clothing was laid out, drying. I couldn't find the long-sleeved shirt I was wearing. There were several similar shirts, but mine was not to be found. I overheard several people stating the same thing and they decided to just pick one of the pieces of clothing that looked like it would fit and went on their way. I did the same.

In my dream, the audience shuffled out the exits. I couldn't find my friend in the throng. I made my way backstage, but there was no one there but a few of the performers, still packing their gear. I decided to head back to the car.

In my dream, the walk back to the car was lonely. I walked to wear I thought the car was, but no one was there and no cars were present. The traffic had all disappeared and a vast, empty field was all that was left. The car wasn't there.

In my dream, I turned left and discovered a long brick wall with an archway opening. I walked toward the opening and when I got to it, I looked thorough it. It opened up into another field with a huge party of Mexicans playing softball and pitching horseshoes. In the distance were canopies where food was being served. I scouted to see if my friend was there, but he wasn't. I did, however, see a rather large, boisterous crowd beneath one of the canopies and decided to make my way over to it.

In my dream, as I approached the canopy with the biggest crowd, I noticed former president Jimmy Carter in line, holding a paper plate and plastic utensils, waiting to be served. I was thrilled to see him there, a white man in a line of Mexicans, just as hungry as the rest. He was speaking with the others in line and smiling. I wanted to meet him, but I didn't want to disturb him.

In my dream, I decided to leave the mass of people and continue looking for my friend and the car. I retraced my steps back to the brick wall. I went out the way I came in, through the archway, and I was in a long hallway made of brick. I proceeded down the hallway.

In my dream, I suddenly saw Jimmy Carter turn off the hallway into a room and I followed him. I took my a while to get to where he had turned, but I finally made it there. I was afraid I would miss him somehow.

In my dream, I looked around the corner where Jimmy had turned and there he was, sitting on a couch comfortably. I went up to him and stuck my hand out, introducing myself. He gripped my hand warmly and told me it was pleasure to meet me. I explained I saw him in the crowd below in a line, but didn't want to disturb him, but now that he was alone, I thought I would say hello. I noticed my speech beginning to become more and more strained as I spoke with him and my words becoming sluggish and unintelligible, but I forced my sentences out as best I could. I told Jimmy of my concert that evening. He seemed pleased with this information. I switched subjects and thanked him for his service to our country and to people in need. My words slurred horribly and you could see Jimmy become more and more uncomfortable with each passing moment. I stopped talking, stood up, waved to him in realization that I knew he knew I was no longer understandable and took my leave of him.

In my dream, I knew that my friend hadn't abandoned me because that is not who he is. Something had obviously happened to the car and he was obviously locating transportation.

In my dream, I heard a loud honking. I turned to see it was my friend. He was driving a silver-colored, interestingly outfitted Jeep which was towing an open-air rail passenger car with wheels suitable for the terrain. Each and every seat in the car being towed was filled. He drove past and thumbed at me to get in. I noticed the Jeep he drove had multiple passenger cars hooked up to it, each one loaded to the brim with people. Eight cars passed before the line of vehicles finally came to a halt and I was able to find a seat on the ninth and final car.

........................................... Ruprecht ( STOP )

................................

Vampires In The Sun, That Is What We Are .....

Look: Everyone makes mistakes.

Yup. Me too. I make’em by the boatload.

Matter’n fact, I made no less than three of’em with my recent venture into Stephanie Miller’s mega-popular novel (and coming-soon-to-a-theater-near-you-this-fall film) Twilight.

Naturally, you want to know more about the mistakes I made in delving into this piece of popularity, right? Well, read on, McDuff … read on.

I didn’t get a real taste of this tome 'til I hit the San Diego Comic-Con this summer. Twilight was a subject that came up often. Fans roaming ‘round with copies of the book tucked ‘neath their arms. Talk of the Twilight panel could be heard in the air whilst perusing the Comic-Con aisles and waiting in lines. People with Twilight T-shirts. It was everywhere.

So, when I returned from the Con, I decided to pick Twilight up and give it a read. After all, it seemed popular, much talked about and - if tons of web blogs had any truth to'em - an exciting pastime.

Oh, sure … I saw the title of the book over and over again in various locales. Wal-Mart. Borders. So-n-so's internet site. A casual aside in the paper. “On Sale!” in a Sunday ad flyer.

Though, while plastered out there everywhere, I didn’t truly take notice of it until The Con. I didn't even know it was a vampire book. I never got the meat of what Twilight was and never gave it a second thought. Apparently, as far as this book was concerned, I was living in a cave.

Also while at The Con, I was given a free copy of Dead Until Dark, the novel by Charlaine Harris that's being serialized by none other Alan Ball (“Six Feet Under”) for HBO. (Yes, there was a panel on this adaptation as well.) Yikes! Even more vampire stuff! (This one, at least, I'd heard of.) Them creatures of the night sure are popular of late, aren’t they?

So. Even though I had Dead Until Dark in my back pocket, I decided to pick up Twilight at my local library. (In fact, I had it reserved. The six copies they had were checked out and I was next in line. Popular book indeed!)

Retiring one evening, I had a conundrum to overcome. Which to begin with? Dead Until Dark? Or Twilight?

And here, dear readers, was the First Mistake: I began with Dead Until Dark. I got a couple chapters of that one in. Spiffy book, right from the get go! Nifty characters! Intriguing introduction! Out of the gates and right into the thick of things! But, I realized, if’n I didn’t get motoring on Twilight, my time would run short before I had to return it to the library.

So I retired Dead Until Dark temporarily and committed to Twilight.

The blurb on the back of the book sounded rather promising: “About three things I was absolutely positive. First, Edward was a vampire. Second, there was a part of him – and I didn’t know how dominant that part might be – that thirsted for my blood. And third, I was unconditionally, and irrevocably in love with him.”

But ... this blurb was a bit disturbing to me. Would this be my first venture into "trashy novel" territory? That made me pause, if only for a moment of consideration.

Then, I noticed the label applied to the spine of the book: "Teen Center". This was a "teen" novel? Another potential flag. But these things were to deter me not. I dove in.

What I got, in the first two thirds of the book, was a lot of this: “Every one of them was chalky pale, the palest of all the students living in this sunless town. Paler than me, the albino. They all had very dark eyes despite the range in hair tones. They also had dark shadows under those eyes - purplish, bruiselike shadows. As if they were all suffering from a sleepless night, or almost done recovering from a broken nose. Though their noses, all their features, were straight, perfect, angular.”

Those few lines are highly indicative of Twilight. Pages and pages and pages of gunmetal gray description of looks and touches and wants and emotions and facial tics and thoughts that just don’t matter to the story. Well … to be completely fair, they just didn’t matter to me.

Couldn't we have just "bitten" into some action within the chapters? (Pun definitely intended there, people.) Vampires come with fangs and garlic and horror and chills and bats and coffins and stakes and spells and fog and gloom and doom and wonder and creeps and surprise and evil power. Right?

Evidently not.

I'm not going to carry on about what is and what isn't within this book, but suffice it to say I was rather bored for the first two thirds of it. It just wasn't turning my crank

Then, all of a sudden, things got a bit interesting ... some intrigue came about. And this is where my Second Mistake came into play.

I got "nipped" and became interested. It would be short lived, however.

Because, after a few chapters of too brief breath-holding, the story drug on once more. And, quite simply, it became boring all over again and too quickly.

Oh. There're a few nifty turns in this read. It's not all description. But a lot of it is - a big majority of it. The initial set up just

. . . s . e . e . m . s . . .

. . . t . o . . .

. . . g . o . . .

. . . o . n . . .

. . . f . o . r . e . v . e . r . . . . . . . . . .

With Dead Until Dark, the introduction is quick and the action takes off like a shot. It pulls you in immediately. And this book's premise will make for a fine, fine series. Especially with Alan Ball at the helm.

Oh .... Twilight will make a fine flick for its fans. The story will be the darling of its followers, no doubt. But the book, in and of itself, doesn't deserve the hoopla everyone has given it.

And that's just my opinion.

Which leads to my Third Mistake.

I tried hard to enjoy the book. And I did enjoy it, despite the fact it felt like I was dragging along with it as if it was tied to my ankle, ball and chain like.

You see ... my Third Mistake was going to the library today and checking out it's sequel, New Moon .....

First, however, I think I'll get Dead Until Dark relaunched. It's been calling to me, waiting patiently. Bidding me come, to where the real vampires are.

..................................... Ruprecht ( STOP )