Only in my family would the words Hookers & Vacation be combined into something you reminisce about.

In 1976 we took a family vacation by car and one of the stops was Washington D.C..  After a full day of sightseeing in both D.C. and Virginia we checked in to our hotel and my mother always being prepared, got out the AAA Guide Book for the city to find a place for dinner.  We of course also had a AAA triptik prepared for the trip and a full complement of paper maps – which my father could fold correctly.

A restaurant was found that seemed nice enough but not too fancy given I was 14 and not into fine dining.  If I remember correctly it was called the Steak Joint and turned out to be one of those stand in line, place your order then wait for them to call your number type steak places SOOO popular in the 70’s.

We didn’t take any of our multitude of maps along because my father had been in the military in the early 50’s and stationed for a short time in D.C. so he assured us he knew the area and where we needed to go.

It didn’t take long after we left our hotel in the Capitol Hill area that we were in a less than desireable area of D.C. which back in the 70’s meant one block off any major thoroughfare dominated by government buildings. 

We came to the intersection where the restaurant was located and realized we had passed the pay parking lot that was most convenient to the restaurant.  We of course circled the block in our metallic blue 1973 Pontiac Grand Prix with a white vinyl top.  It turns out going down one of the streets previously, we had passed a group of streetwalkers (hookers) hanging out.  I don’t know if we noticed them but they must have been watching us and when the car came around the block again, this time much slower so we didn’t miss our turn, they started running after us. 

 They thought we were “Cruising Them” and they had work!

They were beating on the car and running up to the windows – imagine their surprise when they finally looked in and saw the Ultimate White Bread Suburban Family looking back at them. 

They ran off laughing.

AWW – Family Memories.

No wonder Huggy Bear didn’t scare me a year later.

As always – 

You can follow me on Facebook at “I am Dazed and Confused” or Twitter – 


I Have An Addiction

February 16, 2010

My addiction is not to drugs.  The picture on the left  is a symbol of my addiction to “Sweet Tea” (I’ll explain in a second).  If you live in Buffalo, New York or some other Yankee type place like south Florida and really don’t know what sweet tea is, here you go.  It is simply Iced Tea that has had COPIOUS amount of sugar added just after it has been brewed while it is still hot.

The picture is symbolic of my addiction because the “Gangsta Rap” name bestowed on me by a former coworker is “SWEET TEA”.  If you live in Atlanta I believe it is mandatory that you have a gangsta rap pseudonym/nickname and mine was given because of my addiction to…… (if you don’t get it now you are not very bright)

Now I have been asked by people “how do you make this sweet tea?”  Actually, I really don’t know.   I buy mine from McDonald’s every morning like most people start their day with coffee.  It costs $1.00 for a 32 oz. serving in a great styrofoam cup which makes it last a long time.  Yeah I know it’s not environmentally friendly, but I like it, so – shut up.

In addition it is served at EVERY restaurant in Georgia – except for a few real Hoity Toity one’s that I am too poor to visit anyway.

Some good alternatives to obtain sweet tea include – Chick Fil A, theirs is very good but it costs more than McDonald’s and sometimes gives me heartburn.  Publix sells it by the gallon as do many fried chicken places including Mrs. Winners. 


I don’t need to know how to make it – I buy it when I am out.  At home I drink Crystal light Lemonade from the mix.

If you want to know how to make real sweet tea at home for some godforsaken reason – check out my friend Kathy Drewien’s Facebook Page that includes a recipe (click here for recipe) or chat her up on Twitter – @kdrewien

As always – 

You can follow me on Facebook at “I am Dazed and Confused” or Twitter – 


Anyone reading this blog should know who Mrs. Robinson is from the movie  The Graduate.  I refuse to even give an IMDB link.  If you don’t know, do your own google search or “go rent it”.

In 1980 and 1981 I worked as a delivery driver for a local Pizza parlor in the Town & Country area of Tampa, FL.   It was fun work, decent pay and lots of fun experiences.   There was the private investigator whose house looked like something out of my Big Fat Greek Wedding,  ordered MULTIPLE pizzas and was a good tipper,  there was  the singles party scene at the The Racquet Club Apartments Clubhouse, our two most infamous customers however were older single women, both apparently widows.

Widow #1 had what we would today recognize as OCD and a hoarder.  She had a simple home stacked to the ceiling with magazines and newspapers.  Her weekly order which usually came in late Saturday night consisted of something along the lines of a small pizza, lasagna or spaghetti dish.  No big deal.  BUT it was her add on’s that were unique.  We were located next door to a Circle K and we did her weekly grocery shopping.  The normal list included  Bag of Dog Chow, Cat Food (Cozy Kitten), Two Lighters, Four Bic Pens, Notebook Filler Paper, Elmer’s Glue, etc… None of us knew exactly why she ordered these things or why she needed so many of them each week. We delivered them and she paid us a fair but not overly generous tip.  It was a good deed for a crazy little old lady who probably just needed some Prozac.

Then there was the one I still call Mrs. Robinson.  She lived in one of the better areas of our delivery zone and was the widow of an Air Force Colonel and at the time I thought she was REAL old.  Looking back she was probably a rough mid 50’s.  Large home (at least by 1980 standards) on the waterfront, boat dock with boat on davits (never used), Screened pool.  No carpet all terrazo floors. Pretty cool digs.  Drove a Lincoln Mark IV.  

 She usually answered the door with a cigarette and/or cocktail in hand.  Her cigarettes were the long brown one’s called “More”, her cocktails were always “on the rocks”.  Whether her cocktails were scotch, bourbon or whiskey I never knew, just that they were brown.  She had Marilyn Monroe styled messy Platinum Blonde Hair and was usually wearing one of a coterie of Bikinis including a leopard one and most famously the silver lame’ one mentioned in the title of this post.  Not that she had the body for it but she was proud of what she did have.  Her skin was the texture and color of shoe leather which was so popular in Florida back then. 

 The entire effect was very Cocktail Nation, Aged “Rat Pack”.  She could have been one of Frank Sinatra’s “BABES” back in the day.  Just imagine  an aged Angie Dickinson lying around the house with “The look of Love” playing on the stereo and you have a complete picture.  

She was a GENEROUS  tipper.

You can follow me on Facebook at “I am Dazed and Confused” or Twitter –

This Post is dedicated to Uno Pizza where I proposed to my Wife and Denny Nickerson who kept it open as long as he could.




I’ve been hearing my whole life about the dangers of marijuana.  Primarily how it will lead to hard drugs including heroin.  Never fell for it.  I mean get real, with the name of this blog did you really think I would have an anti marijuana stance? 

Spin is often used to create this perception.  The anti drug people will tell you that marijuana is a gateway drug and that 90% of hard drug users started with marijuana.  That may be true but digging further in to the statistics you find that 90% of  marijuana users never move on to harder drugs.  

If we use the logic as presented by the anti drug coalitions then alcohol should be made illegal because the overwhelming majority of marijuana users start by drinking alcohol.  Once again though the majority of alcohol users don’t use marijuana.  So get over it. 

How is this at all relevant to Hooters? 

A lot of people believe that Hooters is a gateway occupation to becoming a stripper.  The truth as I have discovered over many years of research at Hooters restaurants (I really like their wings.  Ask my former employees who used to call me “Chicken Man”) and various strip clubs (usually in the company of my wife)  is similar to that of marijuana.  While it may be true that a large number of strippers started out as Hooters waitresses, the majority of Hooters waitresses never become strippers. 

Hooters Icon LA


This post is dedicated to Lynne Austin aka LA.  A Tampa hometown girl.  Graduate of Leto High School which means she knows the meaning of the word “Creeker” and –



  You can follow me on

Facebook at “I am Dazed and Confused” or Twitter –