Pen Gaaghi Archives

Westin Mission Hills Review

2007-12-17T21:43:00.000-08:00

[taken from my Yelp posting]

My partner and I stayed here on a time share packet where the tour was not required. We paid $150 for a three night stay. We expected a hard sell upon arrival and we were not disappointed. We were directed to the concierge and he was very friendly. He wanted to sign us up for a "90 minute presentation" of the timeshares and offered $125 gift certificate. We repeatedly said no. The friendliness quickly evaporated.

The Westin bills itself as a first rate resort and "...for those who appreciate a higher standard." Westin Mission Hills fails in this regard.

The grounds at a glance are gorgeous and the place is huge. Unfortunately the service is substandard and is nowhere near a first-rate hotel. On a half dozen occasions I tried reaching the front desk. Half the time I couldn't get through to them. One night we ordered room service and waited over an hour. We finally got a call asking if our order had been delivered. No, it had not.

This hotel offers mini-refrigerators to guests upon request. I called down and asked for one. None were available but I was told that I would be put on a waiting list and should have one later that afternoon. The next day I called and was told that my name wasn't on a waiting list!

The place is vaguely dirty. The golf pro shop had an unattended coffee pot in the entrance with a sign charging $2 for coffee (should be complimentary!). Someone emptied a coffee cup in the water fountain and it was backed up with coffee in the basin. The young woman at the counter was more interested in her conversation with a friend.

A walk around the lobby and pool area had trays of food and glasses which should have been promptly removed. Our hallway had windblown newspapers which were not picked up all day.

To top it off, the room had cheap plastic Dixie cups instead of real glasses. Not acceptable for a first class hotel.

The management of Westin Mission Hills should spend a night or two at the Ritz Carlton and see how to do it right. Hopefully they may learn something.

We left a day early and forfeited a night's stay.

Tango!

2007-10-21T19:57:00.000-07:00

Portland is for Lovers

2006-09-09T00:18:00.000-07:00

I took this photo at the Arts & Crafts Fair in the Pearl District of Portland on Labor Day. I really meant to take an innocent photo of these dogs. Fate intervened and all of a sudden one of them got horny. Pugs are such a lovable dog.

Moving on. The wedding on Saturday. It was an informal, outdoor wedding with casual dress. We were lucky because it was quite warm and a jacket would have been very uncomfortable. It was interesting to see how far some people took the definition of "casual." Two men in their forties wore shorts and flip-flops! And to make it worse, one of them had his cell phone dangling like a colostomy bag from his waist. Many women wore strapless dresses which prominently displayed their tattoos.

I did have one wish granted at the wedding. No readings of the pompous, boring prick named Khalil Gibran. Instead, they had some dumb Spanish poem which was much less offensive.

The wedding proved to be a lot of fun as the evening progressed. Everyone got drunk. Except me because I am a lightweight drinker.

One funny Pen Gaaghi moment. The evening before the wedding there was a special dinner for out-of-town guests. We had an informal party at a pizza place in downtown Portland. There must be have been something in the air that caused an allergic reaction in me. All of a sudden my eyes reddened and teared. Jon Dean asked if something was wrong. I said "they [bride and groom] are just two great kids. It really gets to me." Perhaps the funniest statement during the trip.

A Hidden Gem

2006-09-05T18:24:00.000-07:00

Jon Dean and I spent five days up in Portland, Oregon on a late summer vacation. We had a fantastic time! I would have never expected Portland to be a great tourist destination, but it proved to be a hidden gem. On Saturday we attended a wedding for one of Jon Dean's former co-workers. This was the reason for our trip and then built a vacation around it on the Labor Day weekend.

For me, the goal was to recharge my spirit and energy. It was a tough summer, and year so far, and I needed a real vacation. No tv, no email, no computers and no cell phone. No kids to feed and get up at my leisure. I felt so much better upon my return.

Portland can best be defined as "San Francisco Lite." It has great deal to offer without the high expense, filth and crime rate. Even the panhandlers are polite and skip the sarcasm in their pitch. The downtown area had a nice shopping district and the area was vibrant beyond the business day. Portland does an excellent job with maintaining a vital downtown. The native Portlanders (if that is the term) seemed a relaxed and friendly lot.

We stayed downtown at the Marriott and had a great corner room at a very reasonable rate. This hotel was superbly run in the manner of the best hotels. Attentive, courteous staff and an understated elegance to the hotel itself. It was definitely old-world service. I felt pampered during this time. All this for $134 a night.

All of our meals in the local restaurants were very satisfying and reasonably priced. One of the great joys of a vacation is sampling the restaurants in a new place. Downtown Portland has its share of upscale restaurants which are moderately priced. Two people can have a fine dinner for under $40 in this city.

Relaxation was the theme. We spent a lot of time reading in our room. This sounds like a strange thing to do but it was better than a massage.

We did some book shopping at Powell's, the well-known local bookstore. I refer to it as the Smithsonian of bookstores. It takes up a whole city block on four floors. Do not try to take it in all at one time. We went back a second time in order to see all the rooms. If in Portland, Powell's is definitely a "must see."

A Weird Shopping Experience

2006-05-16T10:35:00.000-07:00

On Sunday I went with my friend Klara over to the Stanford Shopping Center in Palo Alto. I was in search of the perfect socks and thought that I might find them in this upscale mega-plaza. They have many of the well-known department stores as well as smaller shops. I've done a review of this mall on Yelp and gave it two stars out of five. After Sunday, I'll downgrade it to one.

There is something seriously wrong with this place. It has all the ingredients for a great mall yet is entirely lacking in personality. It is less than just a collection of stores for there is nothing practical at all about it. Sunday was a very hot day and we were very thirsty. We just wanted a simple ice tea. Or even a soft drink from a vending machine. This proved to be a very difficult task.

We walked into Teavana to get a simple glass of ice tea. Here is my Yelp review of this place:

People must be nuts in Palo Alto. Today I was shopping with a friend and it was a very hot day. We strolled in to get a glass of ice tea. Just a simple glass of ice tea. Ok, this is the Stanford Shopping Center and I expected to pay a premium. But $4+ for some strange combination of "exotic" teas? I couldn't even understand the menu, nor could my friend.

We just walked out without getting anything. This was just too weird for us.

No water fountain in sight. We went over to Nordstrom and they have a coffee kiosk in front. The line was tremendous! We ended up in the Nordstrom Cafe and I paid $6 for two iced teas. The worst part was that we weren't given our drinks right away but told a server would get our receipt and bring the drinks. I JUST WANT A FUCKING GLASS OF ICE TEA. I'M DYING OF THIRST. I took the initiative and tracked down a busgirl. I gave her a couple of bucks and apprised her of our thirst. I was desperate.

Oh yes, the socks. I ended up buying a pair of pink cotton dress socks that I could have bought at the local mall in Newark.

Forget the Mall: Buy Your Gifts from the Pen Gaaghi

2005-11-26T18:59:00.000-08:00

For sale: one restored Elgin WWII enlisted man's watch. Fifteen jewels and in great shape. Starting price on eBay is $49.99.

I have bought a lot of stuff on eBay. The majority have been damn good deals and stuff I could never find locally. However, I did make one purchase that didn't work out for me.

Last year I bought a restored WWII watch that looked beautiful and the seller had near-perfect feedback. The watch was beautiful when I received it. Unfortunately there was a problem with the hands coming in contact with each other so I sent it back. The seller did a great job fixing it and even sent back another strap for my trouble. The watch functions perfectly. It keeps time better than my Rolex.

Then I found out the watch was radioactive! Yikes. I read that watches from this era often had radium-filled hands and hour markers. At the time I was working at the scientific nonprofit so I had great access to tests for radioactivity. Tim, the lab manager, placed a geiger counter over the face of the watch and the meter went nuts! I was scared shitless. I instantly thought of contracting all kinds of cancer.

There was a famous study of women who worked in plants that manufactured these dials. Many of them came down with throat cancer. But then you have to consider the circumstances. These women worked eight hour shifts and constantly wetted the paintbrush used to apply radium with their tongues. It is not the common contact that one has with a wristwatch.

The watch generates two millirems per hour. I really didn't know what this meant so I did some research. It really isn't that bad. Millions of people wore these watches during the 1930's and 40's and there has been no correlation with forms of cancer or other disease. Also, there is a low level of radioactivity in the atmosphere. You just can't avoid it. The watch is probably fine to wear. I just don't want to take a chance.

Kindly remember to keep the watch away from your reproductive organs if you want to have kids!!

If you don't want to buy the watch, consider a Pen Gaaghi shirt, lady's thong or canvas tote. Remember, all proceeds will be directly applied to my purchase of luxury goods.

Elgin WWII Enlisted Man's Watch

2005-11-26T09:21:00.000-08:00

A restored Elgin WWII enlisted man's watch. Fifteen jewels and in great, restored shape.

I have bought a lot of stuff on eBay. The majority have been damn good deals and stuff I could never find locally. However, I did make one purchase that didn't work out for me.

Last year I bought a restored WWII watch that looked beautiful and the seller had near-perfect feedback. The watch was beautiful when I received it. Unfortunately there was a problem with the hands coming in contact with each other so I sent it back. The seller did a great job fixing it and even sent back another strap for my trouble. The watch functions perfectly. It keeps time better than my Rolex.

Then I found out the watch was radioactive! Yikes. I read that watches from this era often had radium-filled hands and hour markers. At the time I was working at the scientific nonprofit so I had great access to tests for radioactivity. Tim, the lab manager, placed a geiger counter over the face of the watch and the meter went nuts! I was scared shitless. I instantly thought of contracting all kinds of cancer.

There was a famous study of women who worked in plants that manufactured these dials. Many of them came down with throat cancer. But then you have to consider the circumstances. These women worked eight hour shifts and constantly wetted the paintbrush used to apply radium with their tongues. It is not the common contact that one has with a wristwatch.

The watch generates two millirems per hour. I really didn't know what this meant so I did some research. It really isn't that bad. Millions of people wore these watches during the 1930's and 40's and there has been no correlation with forms of cancer or other disease. Also, there is a low level of radioactivity in the atmosphere. You just can't avoid it. The watch is probably fine to wear. I just don't want to take a chance.

Kindly remember to keep the watch away from your reproductive organs if you want to have kids!!

[Note: I no longer have this watch as I sold it. I did state in my ad that the hands were radium-filled.]

Why I Hate Macs (or How Schooling Can Kill the Passion for Learning)

2005-01-25T07:50:00.000-08:00

When I took my current job, I thought they used PC computers. Well, they do to a small degree but the main network is Apple Macintosh. Today we installed the OS 10 operating system on our Macs.

I hate Apple computers. This stems back to my days from a computer programming class in high school.

Back in 1980 or 1981, the high school I attended had a small number of Apple computers and a few elementary computer programming classes. The computers were those primitive 64k Macs. I was stuck in one of those classes with a roomful of fellow classmates eager to dazzle everyone with their supposed intelligence. There is nothing like a computer programming class to bring out the asshole in someone. My high school programming teacher, Sarah Baker, was a middle-aged, unattractive bitch with no sense of humor.

I couldn't even find solace in the course material. It was run like a military boot camp. "Type in 'x=0,return key, x=x+2'" This is no way for someone to learn the art of computer programming. I hated everything in that awful class. It killed my interest in computers for about ten years.

I did have one good experience. The computers were set up as a lab and there was no assigned seating. At the end of the class, we had to log off of our computers. Well, one day I typed in a message and left the monitor on. I did this on purpose. I wrote "Fuck you, Mrs. Baker." She went nuts! You would have thought it was the Columbine shooting. She didn't know who wrote it. From that day onward, there was assigned seating.

My only regret is that damn class killed my interest in computer applications for almost ten years. It wasn't until 1989 when I got started while working at my cousin's drapery business in Michigan. I would have been much better off by not having taken the programming class in high school.

To this day I am biased against Macs for this very reason. I will always associate them with that horrible class.

Pilgrimage to Israel

2004-08-15T18:16:00.000-07:00

Jesus, every time I think about that trip the word “disappointment” flashes in my memory. When I graduated high school in 1982, my parents gave me a summer trip of their choice as my gift. A trip to Israel. It was a hell of a gift and it cost them a few thousand dollars back then. The trip was for forty days in Israel with a group of my peers. Half were from Arizona and half from New York. The trip was reasonably priced since it was sponsored by Bnai Brith, a Jewish organization.

Damn, I was excited. Eighteen years old. I had such high hopes at the time. A religious awakening? An increased sense of bonding with my brethren? Maybe get laid? At the very least, maybe make some new friends? All these things were on my mind as I left Arizona that summer.

Accomodations really sucked on the trip. The first few days we stayed in a half-star rated hotel in Jerusalem. Four of us in a small room meant for two, at most. Little did I realize that these were to be the best accommodations of the trip! One week was spent on an Israeli army base, where I didn’t go to the bathroom for a week. That was a trying time.

My first contact with Israelis was not positive. The first thing someone told our group was that Israel didn’t need American money. This sentiment was repeated throughout the trip. That really hurt. My dad contributed generously to the country by buying bonds during the ’67 and ’73 wars. I vowed never to give them a penny after I got home. I quickly discovered the reason for the bargain trip: the Israeli government was looking for immigrants, especially healthy teenage Westerners. This preyed on the weakest of the group and one girl I knew might have actually moved there.

Israeli arrogance was overwhelming. They told us that they were better than us. Well, when your competition is weak, like the surrounding Arab countries, you are bound to get an inflated sense of self-worth.

By Western standards, the country was clearly second-rate in terms of sophistication. I remember one army officer ridiculing our group for our daily showering habits. Ridicule us all you want, I thought. Judging by the stench, the local populace didn’t share our bathing concerns.

My best memory of the trip was the time spent watching the World Cup games that summer. While in Tel Aviv, I watched the USSR v. Belgium game in a hotel lobby. Even though I’m a staunch conservative, I liked the commie team. Oganesian scored the only goal of the game in the second half for the Russkies and I jumped up in celebration. “Yeah!” I screamed. Uh-oh. The locals all shot evil looks at me as I quickly realized the USSR was not well received in Israel. This memory always brings a smile to my face.

By the way, I didn’t get laid on the trip. Perhaps that might have resulted in a religious awakening!

Give Me the Summer Olympics of Yesteryear

2004-07-30T08:33:00.000-07:00

I keep forgetting this is the year of the summer Olympics. Seems like everyone else has too. The Olympics just doesn’t carry the importance it once did. I started following the Olympics in 1972 when I was a mere eight years old. I didn’t give a damn about the hostage situation, I loved the sports! Dave Wottle winning the 800m with a strong finish while wearing his golf cap. Mark Spitz won seven gold medals in swimming. And last, the American basketball team getting screwed by the referees in an undeserved loss. What really made the games exciting was the rivalry with the Eastern Bloc. They were the bad guys. The games aren’t fun any longer without the bad guys.

Montreal in 1976 was a bit of a let down. Even as a kid, I knew Bruce Jenner was an asshole. His motivation to turn a profit from his medal was so transparent. Thankfully, there was a saving grace to those games: the East German women swimmers. I was in love! Those “she-men” were incredible. At that point, I should have realized some things about my sexual leanings. I didn’t even care if their performance was chemically enhanced. I just thought they were gorgeous There was this photo of Kornelia Ender in the Guiness Book of World Records...........(I digress).*

The games in 1980 and 1984 suffered from boycotts. These games were not up to standard in terms of performance. By 1988, the Eastern Bloc was no longer a viable threat and the rivalry was just no longer there. I stopped following the games at this point. The times for heroes had passed.

__________________
*not the photo pictured

The First Date

2004-06-13T09:00:00.000-07:00

My first date with Jon Dean. It was on a Saturday night, April 1, 2000 in Phoenix, AZ. Earlier in the week, I was in Chicago and drove back to Arizona a few days later. We met through a personal ad I placed on Yahoo (see the June 5th entry) while I was in Chicago and then corresponded via e-mail and chat. We would chat online every night after he responded to my ad. When I got back to Phoenix on Friday we spoke for the first time. He told me that he has a slight Southern accent. It was very charming.

We arranged to meet at the Merck, a bar in the better part of Phoenix on Camelback Road the following night at 7 pm. I remember getting ready for the first date. It was a cool night for Phoenix at that time of the year and I wore my lucky rainbow-striped rugby shirt. I ran a few minutes late that evening and parked across the street from the Merck (free parking on that side). Damn, I was five minutes late! I am known for my punctuality.

Slightly out of breath, I walked into the Merck and saw a man with his back to me at the bar. I knew it was him. He turned around and I think we were both impressed. A great smile, nice build, and a pleasing face. We had a few drinks and talked about what people talk about on first dates. Afterwards, we went across the street to the bookstore at the Biltmore and discovered each other’s reading interests. He was into roses and I was partial to a Heinrich Himmler biography. However, we did share a mutual interest in fountain pens while looking through the magazine selection.

We finished the evening with some drinks at Harley’s, a quiet gay bar in downtown Phoenix. Naturally, we made plans to meet again. Like the next day.

Success in the Electronic Dating Age

2004-06-05T17:20:00.000-07:00

I met Jon Dean over four years ago through a Yahoo personals ad. Back when Yahoo personals were free, of course. I just finished a short, turbulent relationship with the horse of a woman I met in a Prodigy chat room. After having discovered my bisexual side in this tumultuous affair (a story in itself and then some), I placed a personal ad in both the “men seeking women” and “men seeking men.” At the ripe old age of thirty-six. I finally realized the important qualities to look for in a girlfriend/boyfriend. I started to place an emphasis on someone with a similar upbringing and interests. Not identical, but similar.

I posted the ads on March, 27, 2000. As you can see in the ad for men, it was a serious listing. On the hetero side, I placed a similar ad for women. The results: zero responses from the ladies and about a dozen from the guys. I received only one decent response, and that turned out to be from Jon Dean. The other guys invited me over for gang bangs. Sorry, not interested. Jon Dean’s response was very thoughtful and well written. Almost too good to be true. I had a feeling this was the guy for me.

We exchanged some great e-mails and I even had him chatting for some time on Yahoo. That was a major accomplishment. We decided to take it slow (i.e., wait until the weekend for the first date). After much discussion as to the proper venue, we agreed to meet at a very upscale bar called the Merck in Phoenix on Saturday night, April 1, at 7:00 pm.

Details of that date to follow in future postings. Its worth many columns in itself!

“We Don’t Have to Take Our Clothes Off”

2004-06-01T10:17:00.000-07:00

I loved this song back in the 80’s. Even Jon Dean likes it. It has a nice rhythm and pleasing, nonsense lyrics. Something about the title though………..

Memories of the nudist camp! Ever since I was a kid, I wondered what it would be like where everyone wandered around in the buff. Think of the eye candy. I did, and one time when I was about twenty-eight or so, I went to a “naturist resort” called Shangri-La in Phoenix, AZ. It was way out on the far edge of the city. They advertised these coupons in one of the underground papers for a discount pass. Some discount. As soon as I got there, they told me the coupon was no longer good. So you are out there, having driven a long ways, and see a bit of eye candy. Are you going to turn around? Like any red-blooded guy (and shmuck), I reached in my wallet and shelled out $50 for a three visit pass, the cheapest pass available.

A resort it was not. A trailer park with a budget motel-style swimming pool and a few tennis courts. Many of the guys there wore these large, mirrored sunglasses. Also, a lot of fat people. A lot of very fat people. So fat that the folds covered their private areas. No wonder you see a lot of fat people at nudist camps. There were some families with little kids there, but it was mostly straight-acting guys and old, fat couples. Unattached women were virtually non-existent at this place.

You will often hear people say that nudist camps are not sexual. "Oh, how could you think any such thing," is what the enlightened will tell you. I talked to a lot of guys there who repeated, ad nauseau, the story about some young blonde girl who was absolutely gorgeous and graced the men with her presence the previous week. Also, they kept asking me if I knew any women that I could invite to the camp. How pathetic. It sure sounded sexual to me. While I didn't see any overt sexual acts, the sexual undertone here was very strong based on my conversations with other men.

Shangri-La quickly became boring. Very boring. Most people really do look better wearing clothes.

Would I go back to another resort? All I can say is that with the three visit pass, I only used two.

The Graf Zeppelin Stamps Are My “Maltese Falcons

2004-05-29T09:38:00.000-07:00

For those who haven’t seen “The Maltese Falcon” with Humphrey Bogart, let me provide a brief summary of the movie. It was made back in the 1940’s with old time stars Sidney Greenstreet and Peter Lorre. Sidney Greenstreet is chasing the elusive Maltese Falcon, a heavily jeweled sculpture made hundreds of years ago. It is virtually priceless. The mystique and beauty of this bird consumes Greenstreet’s life and can only come close once to getting it.

Ever since I was a kid, I’ve had a strong interest in stamp and coin collecting. I know it seems like an old man’s hobby, but I really find these hobbies fascinating. To me, its history in the flesh. There is usually an interesting story behind the stamp or coin, and at the very least, you can imagine the era in which these items circulated. Combine the intrinsic beauty with the history and it makes for a great hobby. The only problem is that it doesn’t make for a good investment unless you buy the expensive items in great condition.

The Graf Zeppelin stamps (U.S. airmail) printed in 1930 are my “Maltese Falcons.” While clearly not as valuable as the Falcon, these items of incredible beauty have always been just out of my price range. There were three denominations in the series (65¢, $1.30, and $2.65) and they featured zeppelins traveling the globe. The artwork is amazing and the colors are incredibly vibrant. Moreover, it represents a mode of travel which is long gone and was truly romantic in its time. Most of these stamps were destroyed by the government due to poor sales in the Depression. The stamps generally start at about $300 for the green 65¢ Zeppelin and $800 for the blue $2.60 Zeppelin. Top condition brings the price up dramatically.

I came close to purchasing the green 65¢ stamp one time many years ago in Scottsdale, AZ. The stamp dealer had the most pristine example. Perfectly centered, color so fresh it looked like the day it was printed, and full gum on the back. He wanted $400 and although I didn’t have the money, I thought about selling some of my other possessions. I decided to pass on it. Good idea. These stamps haven’t shot up in price. Also, my taste has changed to cancelled covers with commemorative postmarks. It makes for a more interesting piece.

Jon Dean, when you read this, I just gave you a great idea for my next Christmas gift. [The Pen Gaaghi does celebrate Christmas.] Pics of the stamps are righthere.

My First Girlfriend and How We Broke Up

2004-05-20T14:24:00.000-07:00

Last night I was at a party with a mixed group of people. Mixed in every way: age, sexual identity, and interests. I spoke with a young man of about twenty-two who dated a girl that I met some time ago. She was arrogant and rude when I met her. I asked how it went, and being a chivalrous fellow, he declined to say anything bad about her despite the poor outcome of the date. Fortunately for this column, your Pen Gaaghi has no such constraints!

My first girlfriend. That bitch. I met her when I was twenty-two at a Jewish singles party in Phoenix back in 1987. Lets call her Gillian. We ended up going out for about two years and even considered marriage (at her urging). This woman nagged the hell out of me and made my life miserable. Especially work issues. I had to be striving for Donald Trump status or else she was all over me. Money – career. Career – money. She constantly attacked my parents (verbally). It seemed that anything I did wasn’t good enough for her. Please note these despicable traits are not unique to Jewish women, for I’ve known many others to be this way. Nor are all Jewish women money-hungry gaaghis.

Gillian wasn’t the best looking woman. Far from it. Quite heavy, not that pretty, and definitely not the swimsuit calendar type. Looks didn’t really matter to me (til I met Jon Dean) so this wasn’t an issue. Ever since my high school days, I just wanted someone nice. I’m only mentioning this for illustrative purposes. A few years ago I looked her up on the internet and found a recent picture of her. Girl, you have to get to the gym and start a diet, just for your self respect.

So you are probably thinking: Alan, if she was so bad, why did you go out with her in the first place? At the time, I was like a catfish. Taking whatever scraps of womanhood available on the bottom of the ocean. You have to understand that your Pen Gaaghi, despite being very good looking and fit, is 5’6” in height and not blessed with money or a desirable occupation (like being a doctor or titan of industry). Couple these facts with the Arizona dating scene and the result was a lot of Saturday nights watching tv.

The best memory I have of her was how we broke up. I call this Independence Day. She started nagging me about my failure to get a job where she worked (Best Western corporate headquarters) as a reservation agent. I didn’t even want the job, but merely tried to please her. One particular day I was watching some old episodes of the Three Stooges on VHS and she told me to turn it off, and get serious with my life.

That was the final straw. I’m not kidding. You can put me down, put down my parents, nag me to hell, but do not mess with the Stooges. I have loved those guys since I was a little kid and always will. To me, it was like messing with someone’s religion. “Stooges, oh akbar” to paraphrase the Muslims. In the name of Moe, Larry and Curly, I terminate this relationship.