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Creative Business Names. Or Lack Thereof.

If you were to open a restaurant, say, that made organic caramelized turnips in a spicy pecan sauce, wouldn’t you want to give that place a name to conjure up something in the brain and make everybody want to eat there?

Maybe some of you out there have spent your lives dreaming of opening a business since you were twelve and already had a name in mind for it, right?

Other would-be entrepreneurs agonize and ruminate for months on end creating just the right name.

And then there are those guys who probably discovered themselves at the Articles of Incorporation Office hungover from the night before, not paying attention, filling the form out all wrong mixing up the name with the address and you end up with this: R15. Because it’s at the corner of….yep…R and 15th Streets.

Bar R15, Sacramento

Bar R15 in Sacramento, located at....wait for it.....15th and R Streets.

Or maybe they just stumbled out of the building onto the street corner and prayed for a sign. Or two signs.

Ah, but you see. That’s just it. This is Sacramento. In and around “The Grid”, so named because way back during the Gold Rush days, John Sutter or some such nut designed our downtown streets in a waffle-like grid. And all the east-west running streets are named A through Z. In alphabetical order, no less. You know, so we lame-ass sense-of-direction-deprived Sacramentans would be able to find a street without getting lost, as long as we knew our ABCs.

Can you guess what all the north-south running streets in the Grid are named after? That’s right. Our good old friends, the numbers. Who knows what John Sutter was thinking? Maybe he was just showing off the fact that he had the alphabet DOWN, man! That, or he was hungover.

And so that insulting tradition carries on today, that lack of faith in the people who live here that we will be able to find our way around town, so they name restaurants and other venues after the intersection at which they reside.

Take Cafeteria 15L, for example. It’s a nice place and all, but guess where that is.

cafeteria 15L, sacramento

Cafeteria 15L in Sacramento, located at....um...15th and L Streets.

 

And need I tell you where F65 is ?

 

F65, Sacramento

F65 strip mall in Sacramento

 

Actually, yes I do, because some nincompoop stole the intersection naming method, took it outside The Grid, and like the devil himself, twisted it to suit his own purposes. Because the F in F65 stands for Folsom Blvd.

I mean, this strip mall has a decapitated head, fer Chirissakes! Couldn’t they call it “The Big Ass Decaptiated Head Plaza” or something?

 

F65, Dos Coyotes, statue of head

decapitated head fronting Dos Coyotes at F65

 

I don’t want to hear any excuses about how they named this stuff so that people could remember it, no matter how plausible or true that even is. Especially for the likes of me because if I can get lost, I will get lost.

Creative laziness. That’s what it is.

Having said that however, I can understand why our Capitol is on Capitol Ave. I mean, you throw up a building on a street called Capitol Ave., what else are you gonna call it? Plus, there’s lots of important stuff that goes on there and all the important legislators and the governor have to be able to find the place. And they have to be able to locate much needed nearby services in a short period of time. So of course you name everything in the vicinity Capitol This or Capitol That. Like Capitol Garage. Or Capitol Car Wash. Or Capitol Fried Turkey Neck Waffles & Shoe Emporium.

So, if I were to start up my own restaurant, say, and be forced to conform to such naming silliness, here’s what I would call them:

Under The Bridge: A little soup joint tucked away under the Tower Bridge that would become a full-on disco dance club at night. The great thing about this location is it comes with its own “bouncer” that we’d use to allow entry. This bouncer isn’t a huge guy in big black suit and lots of bling checking IDs. No, our bouncer is craggly, has one eye, schleps around barefoot and requires you to solve a riddle to get in.

Random Curbs: A food truck that serves the best tuna melt sandwiches in town. Follow us on Twitter to keep up on our current location at @random_curbs.

Gutters: A competing food truck. Obviously.

Anyway, you get the idea. As you can see you have to be the first one at an intersection to have that name of H6 or B12 or anything else that sounds like something you’d overhear at a Bingo game. Otherwise, you lose out and actually have to use your creative mind to come up with a good name. And then good luck with anybody ever finding you because it’s not like the people of Sacramento are capable of using maps or anything.

 

NGIP logo

 

By the way, someone just told me about this cool-ass smartphone app called HeyTell. Have you heard of it? It’s just like text messaging only it’s a voice message and it’s free and it supposedly only uses data like an email, so no sudden big cell phone bills. It’s kinda like a delayed walkie-talkie. And those of you breaking the law while driving and texting can at least lessen your chances of killing someone else. Have you guys heard of this?

HeyTell logo

 

Billboards in Sacramento and Buyer Beware

I took a photo of this downtown billboard last week, which, according to my calendar, fell in February (the week, not the billboard).

billboards, billboard ad rates, sacramento billboards

Billboard at 16th and S in downtown Sacramento during February

I took a picture of this same billboard late last summer:

billboards, billboard ad rates, sacramento billboards

Billboard at 16th & S in downtown Sacramento in Summer 2011

 

Actually, I took this 2nd picture last October - we had a very late Fall this year (the season, not the billboard). But that’s not the point.

The point is, do you have the same question I do? Does it involve the words, “seasonal discount”? Does it include the words “KFBK” and “getting the short end of the stick”?

 

Are You A Good Hugger or a Bad Hugger?

The fabulous thing about having a laptop is that I’m peeing right now but you can’t tell because I pushed the MUTE button.

But seriously, the real reason I called you all here today is to say that there are two types of people: those that hug well and those that don’t.

A real hugger wraps their arms around you and makes it feel like they are really glad to see you. It feels warm and good like hot cocoa and wool socks in front of a stone fireplace with a fat glittery Christmas tree in the corner.

Then there are those that make a half circle with one arm around you and if you’re lucky, their hand will barely touch your back. Like you have cooties and if they had their druthers, they’d rather not have to participate in such a barbaric nasty germ-spreading ritual. They are probably the same people who would give you one of those limp fish handshakes as well.

Me? I’m a hugger. A real huggity hug hugging hugmeister. They call me Huggy McHuggenheimer. I like when people hug the crap out of me. That’s a figure of speech by the way, I don’t mean I hope that there’s a pile of poo afterwards. And I don’t want the wind squeezed out of me. Or broken ribs. I just like a good firm and friendly hug with pressure applied. A REAL hug. Not one of those mamby pamby I-have-touching-issues-so-you-get-a half-assed fake hugs.

Why is that? Are they afraid it’s too intimate? Like when it’s a co-ed hug, for example. A straight man vs. a straight woman. Is the guy afraid of feeling boobs against them? Like it’s not allowed? Is hugging too sexual for them?

Or is hugging seen as lower-class? Or blue-collar lumberjacky. It’s not sophisticated. You don’t see rich people or members of royalty bear-hugging each other. They lean toward one another and maybe purse their lips to the side while air kissing and lightly resting their fingers of one hand on a shoulder maybe.

I don’t get it. Can someone please explain this to me? Because for me, hugging is an innocent thing we are taught to do with everyone we like when we’re children.

Now, I realize there are exceptions. Like people with back problems or fibromyalgia who can’t hug beyond the limp fish level because it’s painful. Hugs should not be painful. So they get a pass.

Also? There are people I don’t want to hug. But these are the same people I don’t want to touch for any number of reasons. Primarily because they DO have cooties or a banana in their pocket or something like that.

But what’s everyone else’s excuse?

So tell me, are you a hugger? I mean like a real hug-o-rama huggity hugger? Or a limp fish? And do men have different views on this than women? What’s your hugging etiquette?

P.S. Today I am guest posting on mystery author Cindy Sample’s blog. Her latest book is called Dying for a Dance. I give a few blogging tips on her blog today and if you go over there and comment according to her instructions, you’ll be entered into a drawing for an Amazon Gift card. Wow! What are you waiting for? Check out her blog post today entitled: “Improving Your Blog: Helpful Tips and Reminders from an Award-Winning Blogger.

 

Goat Thing of the Day: Apples, Accents and Massages

Still Life With Goats

Pricilla (of The Maaaaa of Pricilla) wants you to know how much she enjoys her apples.

goat, goat picture, goat eating apple

(Thanks, Patty!)

Goats in the News

Reports came in to Nanny Goats in Panties from all over this week about how goats bleat.

Did you know that goats have accents? (Thanks, Sandy!)

They really do. (Thanks, Shannon!)

No, seriously, kids grow up sounding like the other kids they hang out with. (Thanks, Erin!)

A British study found that goats can indeed develop accents. (Thanks, Pam of “Bloomers“!)

 

Goats on Video

And now, goats can give massages…

 

(Thanks, Nellie!)

 

Got Goat? Submit your goat thing.

 

Did I Ever Tell You About the Time I Met Gary Carter?

It was November of 2000 in New York City. We volunteered at some Keith Hernandez benefit thing. My job was to walk around with a clipboard and collect payment information from the auction winners.

So some guy wins a Dinner For Two or whatever and I walk over and get his name and credit card info and walk back in line with the other volunteers waiting with their clipboards.

The girl next to me leans over and says, “You know who that was?”

“Who?” I say.

“That guy you just helped. That’s John McEnroe. Isn’t that John McEnroe?”

She leans toward someone else and asks her if it was John McEnroe. Then she leans back toward me.

“That must be John McEnroe. How did you not know that was John McEnroe?”

“I don’t know.”

“Check your papers.”

I checked my papers.

Well, would you look at that. John McEnroe. Right there on the paper. His signature and everything. Huh.

“Yeah,” I say, “I guess that was him.”

“You idiot. How could you not know?”

“I don’t know - I wasn’t paying attention. I was just getting his information.”

“Like his name, you mean?”

“Right.”

I was an idiot. Although in my defense, it wasn’t like I asked him what his name was and he said John McEnroe and I just wrote it down and walked away. I handed him the clipboard and made him fill it out himself and then didn’t look at the name.

In retrospect, I’m glad I didn’t recognize him because it served him right when I later asked for his autograph and he rejected me. Even though he had just finished giving someone else his autograph. Like ten someone elses. He pretended he had to leave and had no more time for people. So the only way I could get back at him was to not recognize him in the first place, of course.

Anyway when it was all over, a group of us walked to a nearby bar for a drink and somebody in the group told us that two famous baseball players were going with us. They told us their names and that they were awesome and a bunch of other sports-related statistic impressiveness.

I had no idea who they were.

 

gary carter, gary carter photo

Me, Gary Carter and my friend, Meg.

 

But we drank and hung out with them and posed with World Series rings and I knew that I had to take pictures because … well, because they were famous and somebody would be impressed even if it wasn’t me.

bobby ojeda, world series, world series ring

Bobby Ojeda and me and his World Series ring. (Nov 2000)

 

===

I bring this story up because Hall of Famer Gary Carter died yesterday, February 16 at the age of 57.

Here’s an article from ESPN.

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