This blog post is all about signs. And like the mutherfucking Five Man Electrical Band said, “Sign, sign, everywhere a sign, Blockin’ out the scenery, breakin’ my mind, Do this, don’t do that, can’t you read the sign?”
Read it.
And hell, I saw a lot of them on my recent trip to the Whale’s Vagina. Or as you normal folk like to call it, San Diego.
I was there for business but had much pleasure of the writerly variety. Everywhere I went there were signs. Some bad, many entertaining, all had the whaaaaaaaa? factor that makes my blood boil in anticipation.
The hotel I stayed at provided much amusement. From the odd signage, deceitful trickster elevator shaft, and then a random red spider chandelier.
Oh, silly Hilton. Trying to make me believe the 13th floor is really the 14th.
I stayed on the delightful 13th/14th floor, where three teens informed me that since I was on the top floor I’d be the one to burn to death should a fire hit the hotel.
Whaaaaa
The
FUUUUUUUUHHHHH-
The chandelier looked like it belonged in a Harry Potter novel. Or Liberace’s bedroom.
I will crush you with red glowing audacity.
The bathroom scale taunting me was un-ironically named, giving females everywhere even more of a complex than they probably already have.
Bring forth an eating disorder. Or Stephen King.
I brewed coffee on the toilet.
It tasted like shit.
Also, the restaurant at the hotel was oddly named. It was named Stish, accompanied by a fish replacing the “I”.
I do not make this connection.
Clearly they mean to make a fish reference by the “get hooked” tagline…so why not just name the restaurant “Fish”? Why is the ST- necessary? Can someone explain this to me? HUMANITY? PATRICK SWAYZE? ANYONE?
Venturing out into the world of the Whale’s Vagina, I was met by even more awesome signage. As if the “almost caught on fire” would be an enticement, management felt it necessary to add, “Do not use.”
I wet my pants a bit over this, so much for dvd replication.
Albie’s [Hot] Beef Inn was a place I SQUEED over.
Channing Tatum lives here.
So vintage, I almost expected the Rat Pack to be chilling in the corner. The piano player played all the classics. I want to go to there. Every night, cigarette in hand, swilling liquor like a baller, staring at boobies of the bouncy variety.
Your mom says hi.
They did have one minor fault. A menu filled with grammatical errrors. Hors d’oeuvres has an apostrophe, Albie’s, not a hyphen. LEARN IT. LOVE IT.
TYPO FAIL FRICKERS
When we weren’t drinking indoors, we were drinking outdoors. We commanded a boat across San Diego Harbor (I think. I don’t even know where we went) and there were wonders in the bathroom stalls. Viagra abounded, many mentions of head…I guess of the sailor variety?
This. This was hanging in the men’s bathroom.
Avast ye boners, mateys…
How exactly does one “choke” on a “hank” of hair?
The girl’s bathroom was no better. Clearly, we’re all on the rag and need numerous warnings.
TAMPONS FOR EVERYONE
Our manly captain drank TAB.
Your Mother’s Cola.
I did learn that you are not allowed to birth babies at the San Diego pier.
Nor do they have life vests for them.
More for me.
I was so enthralled with the new design of the Budweiser can I took 10 photos of it. Here is the best one.
“You wanna be a star, don’t you, Bud?”
There is nothing better than to end this photo recap of a Whale’s Vagina, then to let you enjoy this little snapshot I accidentally took while I was peeing.
Toilet light looks good on me.
Yes. I did that.
you tell a great story and I love the idea of signs leading the way – the scales still make me laugh – how cruel is that!
thank you so much. yes, the scale is a cruel torment.
I love your quirk and the way you see the world.
Thanks for taking us along on your crazy sign ride.
Always, HM. Thank you.
I have to tell you: I laughed the rest of my butt off at this entry. I needed this. Signage absolutely defines the writer in matters like hors-d’oeuvres. God knows that “Eats, Shoots and Leaves” should replace all Gideon Bibles in hotels, right? You haven proven that there is still some laughter to be found in me after way too many years living in SW Germany. You have NO idea what living in this damned city (Stuttgart, Germany) does to one’s laughing mechanisms: it destroys them. (Laughing is only to be done in the cellar in this part of Germany, lest someone on the outside should hear you). You are brilliant! By the by, when you do find out how the hell you choke on a (what?) of hair, can you post it?
Happy to have made you laugh. You made question taking any future trips to Germany (even tho I am German). They don’t laugh? Do they not like kittens or candy either?? Anywho…thanks for reading and I’m getting on that “hank of hair” thing.
The bath scales and the red chandelier looks great! Who thought that name for a bath scale was a good idea?
And your comment about no birthing and no life vests.
Sorry, I meant: Your comment about no birthing and no life vests are great too!
Hoping the ‘Mother’ references are not Freudian.
Mother, they are not. Rest assured.
I love you. I love this. Don’t ever change.
I won’t. XO.
[...] mentioned in last year’s San Diego blog post, I’m a sucker for signs. I see something on the street corner (no, not that call girl) and I’ll [...]