For years I have wanted to experience the Harvest Howl event. For one, the name is cool. I always imagined an adult Halloween with booze when I heard the name. Two, it is a fundraiser for Camp Rotary, which I would not mind supporting. Finally, after all these years I got a ticket, somebody fun to go with, and was excited to sample the food, and hear some good live music.

Once we entered the door, the “greeters” stopped us and asked if we knew where our table was. Table? Then they asked, “Do you belong to a group?” Uh….meaning? Once they figured out we had “individual” tickets our directions were clear. “You are allowed to sit at the seats to the right of the stage.” In other words, the chairs lined up next to the speaker. The chairs missing a table to be placed around. It was actually a group of chairs in a row like they were going to force us to play musical chairs in front of everyone. Once the music stopped they would pull a chair away to watch one of the “individuals” fall to the floor.

You mean to tell me I paid the same amount as somebody sitting at an oh so special “group” table, but they are making me balance a plate of ribs on my lap as my seat shakes from the sound of the speakers? Is this highschool all over again and they are sending the uncool kids to the corner so they can mock them? Is this how they treat people they are trying to get money from to support their cause? Just because not everyone in the world has a fancy “group” ticket, we don’t get a table cloth…we get to sit at the kids table, only we don’t get the table.

I was so upset at the fact that we were being shoved in a corner (Nobody puts Baby in the corner.), that I didn’t pay much attention to the fact that we had to stand in line over an hour for the food. I have been to the restaurants individually, and I KNOW they are much better than what was represented on a hot plate of luke warm food. I wasn’t even that concerned about the fact that I was not as impressed with the music as everybody around me was. I mean they LOVE this guy. I love the blues, but this is not the old school version that I appreciate. Nope, nothing annoyed me as much as that lonely group of chairs that represented the short bus to all the big wigs in the room.

I watched these young highschool kids stand holding hands in a doorway for hours. All I could imagine was this poor kid paid $70 to take this girl on a date to impress her. Once they got to the door, they were stopped abruptly and told they had to sit in the “special” corner because they didn’t belong to a group. They chose to stay on their feet and not eat as opposed to sit at that awkward group of chairs.

Later I found out that a friend of mine also didn’t have a “group.” She had to stand in the back…alone, ALL night. This doesn’t seem like a very inviting environment for people trying to raise money. I admit that there is NO way I could match a donation made by somebody big like D.A.Davidson. But, that doesn’t mean my money to get in the door is any less valuable. Don’t we deserve a table to go with the chairs? You can withhold the table cloth if you think we are going to muck it up.

The first dance I learned, was not really a dance. All I know is I thought I was cool when I could skate backwards and flail my arms around forming the letters Y.M.C.A. At my young age I thought it had a dancey beat and I figured “You can get yourself cleaned, you can have a good meal, You can do whatever you feel … ” sounded like a good deal.

I had no clue there was any controversy about what side of the fence the Village People were on, and I didn’t care. They dressed like macho men, so I assumed they WERE macho men. I have recently discovered a gem that has long been buried in the archives under a heap of hideous musicals like High School Musical, Hairspray, or even the Lion King. None of them can compare to the Village People musical Can’t Stop the Music for pure 80’s cheese. I have to admit I have watched it 3 times in the last month.

As of today, the dance party group of my youth is getting a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame sandwiched between Liberace and Betty Grable…just a block away from the YMCA. Even if you don’t think the Village People have had an impact on your life, you know, even if you won’t admit it…at least once in your life at a prom or a wedding you danced to Y.M.C.A. and waved your arms around like the rest of the idiots. C’mon, you know you did.

So if you are brave enough to admit you have grooved to “In the Navy” at some point in your life, you might be brave enough to rent Can’t Stop the Music. If you need a giggle, and you want to see Bruce Jenner in shorty shorts and a half shirt, please rent it.

We don’t have a plethora of choices when it comes to cell phone companies in Great Falls. I have stuck with the same company for over 7 years, and don’t really have any complaints. I REALLY am dying to have an iPhone, but who knows when or if that day will ever come. As a special treat, when I replaced my old phone, I went for a Blackberry Pearl. I was thrilled to have what they call a “smart phone.” Only thing is, it isn’t so smart. I have had nothing but trouble with it since I took the shiny red goodness out of the box.

I decided my introductory period was over. If I hadn’t figured out the difficulties it actually was the phone, not my being too dumb to figure it out. I walked into the store holding my very special phone and I was greeted by a monotone, “What can I do for you?” You knew when he spoke it was only because he was forced to. I described for the guy my frustration with vanishing texts, and a rollerball that worked only half the time. He took the phone, and for the next 45 minutes never spoke another word to me. He was 2 feet across from me, and made no attempt at small talk, didn’t explain to me what he was doing to my phone, and acted as though he didn’t want me anywhere near him.

I spent this 45 minutes trying to explain away what his problem was. Was he in a bad mood because he just get evicted from his apartment? Is he so painfully shy he can’t speak? Has he been hired as part of a program to help “special” people get jobs? Did he miss the day of job training that explained customer service etiquette? Or…could it be that he is just an ass?

I became increasingly uncomfortable with this silence. It was like I was a kid getting the silent treatment from a friend. I tried to say a few things to break the awkward hush hush. No response…nothing. Wow, really? He can’t even answer me? After our shared eon of quiet he decided to speak. “Here’s the deal…your phone is broken. Your are going to get a new one in the mail. When you get it, bring it back in.” After he showed off his ability to string 26 words together, he gave me my old, torn up, sad phone and that was it.

I stood there, looking unintelligent, not sure if this interaction was really over. More silence. I finally just got up and went to my car. Once in my car I realized that EVERYTHING had been erased from my phone. The address book that I had painstakingly plugged in one letter at a time was gone without warning. My charming phone guy never even whispered to me that ALL of my info would be lost, and if there was anything I needed from the phone I had a minute to retrieve it. Nope, he just handed me back a blank slate.

My new phone arrived and I did as he commanded. I brought it back to the store. When I walked in the door, there was Mr. Personality. I did everything in my power to avoid getting his appalling service. I even pretended to be looking at phones so that other customers were forced to endure him. I paced thinking “PLEASE let me get the friendly blond girl.” Sadly, if finally came down to Mr. Talky and I once again. Could I say, “No thanks, I am going to wait for somebody else to help me.” Nope. With my head down, feeling defeated, I walked over to his station.

He said, “Oh, it came it.” He grabbed both of my phones and started working his secret cellphone wizardry. When he looked up from his work, he wouldn’t even look me in the face. He looked PAST me, as if he was trying to avoid looking me in the eyes. Next thing I know, he gets up and walks away. I am sitting there speculating where he went. Was I so unbearable that he couldn’t sit across from me and do his work? Did he go out back to shoot my old phone? 10 minutes passed and he finally moseyed in from the back room. He finished chewing before he sat down, and then wiped crumbs off of his face. Apparently doing his job had interrupted his meal time.

Mr. Charisma handed me my phone, and with his final words of wisdom said, “There.”

There has been much talk in the local bloggy blog world of Great Falls about the wonders of Taco Treat. It seems as though there are some out there who do not appreciate the local marvel that Taco Treat is. I can’t deny a love affair I have been involved in for as long as I can remember…with the Taco Treat taco. If I had to reach back into the dust covered sections of my brain I think Taco Treat is my first memory of a restaurant. I remember pitching a fit in the car outside of the Jack Club because I did NOT want to go in (probably because I wanted a taco). My Mom left me locked in the car with a pouty bottom lip and my arms crossed while she enjoyed a plate of Ravs inside. (I believe that would be considered child abuse these days.) I also recall getting a coin for machines filled with toys from Country Kitchen. But, of all those tidbits from my past, nothing in my life has been a true constant like Taco Treat.

Don’t get me wrong, I realize that it is not “authentic” Mexican food. I don’t go there for bona fide south of the border flavor, I go there for Taco Treat flavor. That is the trick, there is nothing like it. There are people out there who really hate it, but there are those of us who want to be the Grand Marshall of the Taco Treat parade. I get tired of people, mostly those raised outside of Great Falls, whining about how it’s not convincing as Mexican food or it is “fast food.” Good, don’t go there. Leave it to the locals to cherish a beef taco, a cheese crisp with beef, or a plate of cheese fries. If we have a sweet craving we can top it off with Crustoz. Yummm, I want it now.

As a loyal customer, when I didn’t live in Great Falls, it was the first place I went when I got off the plane. I still drive friends straight from the airport to the Westside Taco Treat. If those fans out of state are really desperate I mail them a bottle of sauce, and if you mix it with your hamburger meat you can fake a Taco Treat taco. A friend of mine once had his Mom drive tacos to Seattle for him. If you need a fix, you will get it anywhere you can.

We used to joke about a secret added ingredient with addictive properties. My friends and I could never explain our taco habit, or why we could never get enough of a restaurant that nobody outside of the state has heard of. In a attempt to curb my appetite for tacos, my Mom forced me to work at Taco Treat during the State Fair. She thought after a week of lingering over a vat of grease and smelling like tacos I would never want to eat them again. She was oh so wrong. With that stint I discovered the art of perfecting the taco. If you get the correct balance of meat, cheese and lettuce, it is like a party in your mouth. Soon, we started inventing concoctions, wrapping them in tortillas and shoving them in the deep fat fryer.

For some reason I tried to calculate a number of times I have been to Taco Treat in my life, and my guesstimate is at least 1000 times. Now that is dedication.

If Annie Leibovitz asked me to get naked, I would do it. And I won’t get naked for ANYBODY. The difference being, I am not a 15 year old. Going after Annie Leibovitz is a witch hunt. I highly doubt Miley Cyrus was there alone. Any teenager should have a parent with them, and any “star’ working for a company like Disney should have a representative with them. If they didn’t want the picture taken they should have said no. Duuuhhhh. Annie was thinking in terms of art, she didn’t card her when she walked through the door. Don’t blame the artist, blame stupid parents. Remember Whoopie naked in the tub of milk? Demi Moore naked and pregnant? John Lennon naked with Yoko Ono? All Leibovitz. So is it that out of the norm that she might ask her to pose like that? No. Her dumb ass mullet head dad or manager should have controlled that situation if they didn’t want it. I’m just annoyed.

I inadvertently attended a Red Hat Society meeting. It just so happened they were having a gathering at the restaurant I was eating my lunch at. They were seated so closely I could not help but be drawn to their crazy feathered hats and purple grandma sweaters. I was staring at them with the same disgusted look on my face that I am sure they have given a thousand times to the floppy haired kids with tattoos and piercings. I don’t think I ever imagined that these groups really existed. I am not much of a “joiner” but I thought if these ladies enjoyed assembling in the name of looking foolish, more power to them. With much observation I realized that none of them were smiling. Their faces were outright despondent. The body language of the ladies started making me uncomfortable, and I became a little worried about them. Did they really want to be there, or did somebody just dress them up and prop them in those chairs?

The Queen Mother of this batch of ladies (yes, they call the leaders Queen Mother) was quite the grandstander. Not only did she want the attention of her minions, but the entire restaurant. She was so loud, you could not even stop yourself from staring if you wanted to. In her giant feather hat and matching boa she hollered, “Everybody say hello to Clara. Clara came all the way from North Dakota on the choo-choo to have lunch with us.” I was wondering if Clara regretted her decision yet. Next she made an offering to all around the table. They could take home some of her second hand purses that matched the necessary wardrobe. Gee, could I have one of your old dirty handbags with a used plastic comb to tease my hair, a crummy mint loose on the bottom, and the bonus of a recycled tissue?

Next thing on the agenda…voting on where to have lunch for their next fancy affair. The kingpin made her announcement of the choices. Judging by her bravado, I had no doubt that 60 years earlier she was head cheerleader and prom queen, and she was still fighting to be the center of attention. She was really pushing for a particular restaurant, and I am not sure that her followers were comprehending. She let them raise their hands for the first restaurant, and I counted the votes in my head. Second vote, hands raised…I count. Now, by my numbers, the second restaurant won, by the chiefs numbers, the first restaurant won. I am not kidding, I swear she fudged the vote so she could have the buffet of her choice!! By the expressions of the wait staff in the eatery I was currently in, I think they were just thankful they weren’t coming back to visit them any time soon.

I checked the website for the Red Hat Society, and was surprised to see the conventions and functions all over the U.S. Somebody is making a killing on hideous red hats, and purple fabric. You can buy everything online, even kazoos. What do those women do with kazoos? I cringe at the thought. I was still trying to convince myself that this roundup of old ladies was a positive thing. Then I read on the website,

The standard answer to the question, “What do you do?” is… Nothing.

Nothing? Really? You are going to tell me your entire organization is pointless? That is, unless you are collecting money for the wardrobe, chapter dues, or Decade of Sparkle convention. Damn, I remember growing up my Mom warned me about groups who wanted all my money, and to blindly follow their rules. They were called cults.

I realized I haven’t written anything for a week. That doesn’t mean I haven’t wasted time wandering the internet aimlessly. I thought I would share with you two sites that have sucked an hour or two out of my life. I stopped by sleeveface.com to glance at the portraits of people using sleeves from LP’s (you remember actual records, right?) to conceal their face. Just go peek so I don’t have to explain it.

The second site would not be appropriate to visit at work, or if you are a youngster. That is your warning. Apparently Jay Leno said something stupid about looking at the camera and giving “your gayest look” to a guest. Some people decided to send a rebuttal his way. I was pleased that so many people participated. Jay is NOT my favorite talk show host. He is not as funny as David, and no way near as cute as Craig. (Craig makes me swoon.)

OK…I have Dancing With The Stars on in the background. The first thing I heard was a strange, tango remix of “Roxanne” by the Police. I was only slightly displeased when I heard one of my favorite bands used in such a way. It didn’t take long until I heard Adam Ant’s “Goody Two Shoes” and got all huffy seeing them jump around to one of my 80’s favs. There was no way it could get worse. As if the show was mocking me, the cheesiest version of “Rio” was playing and I couldn’t even force myself to open my eyes. How could they do that to Duran Duran?!! Has enough time passed that the music of my youth can be turned into a hideous version of elevator music? Should I be grieving for my precious Duran Duran? I guess if Simon has given up, and can’t remember the words to his songs, maybe it’s time I recognize that the music I love is being played on the oldies station, and used for has been’s who want to learn to tango.

They have been advertising the Festival of the Book around town for a while now. They had cushy full color posters printed, and Pete Fromm and Jamie Ford were the festival rock stars. My hope is that the library would not want to deprive these authors of the biggest possible audience. Admittedly, I was not there at 7 p.m. on the dot. But, in none of the advertising or the Great Falls Library website did it say you would not be allowed in after a certain time. There was also no direction as to where in the library the reading would be held. I assumed when I arrived at the building, a friendly librarian would greet me with a smile and say, “Are you here for the readings? Well, right this way. Please enter quietly because it has already started.”

It looked dark as I approached the doors. There were cars parked in the lot, so I expected people inside. I try to open the front door, no luck. The next person tries, in case I wasn’t smart enough to open it on my own. Nope. If you pressed your face against the glass, you could read the dry erase board inside the entry that said there was a reading going on, as well as the poster. OK…OPEN SESAME. No, didn’t work. There is another book enthusiast trying to call somebody on the inside. That attempt was another failure.

Defeated and annoyed it was back to the car. One girl pulled up and asked where to go. Hell of we knew. Our last effort seemed to involve something criminal. Trying the back doors of the library. Sure enough, we went in the exit and had to sneak downstairs. From the look on the woman’s face behind the table, she was startled to see us.

There wasn’t enough seats for everyone so people were sitting on the floor like a confused kindergarten class. So, were they purposely trying to limit the number of people? It seemed strange to shun people who wanted a little literary culture. Especially after the effort they put into promoting it. Was putting a sign up that said Enter Through Side Door OR Sorry, Lecture in Session, Please Join Us Again Tomorrow too much strain? Anything would have been a help. So, to all of those that turned away before me, and those who tackled the door after I was gone, it will forever be Festival of the Locked Door.

I miss Gilda. This always makes me laugh.